“Why not? It’s not exactly a wild idea.”
Probably not to most rational people, but Fiona was feeling far from rational at the moment. “But if I tell him, I’ll lose him. Not to mention that he’d be furious with his grandfather and how can I do that? Luke has hard lines between right and wrong, and a lie from me is going to fall on the ‘wrong’ side for sure.”
“Hard lines get erased or moved all the time.”
“Not by Luke.”
Laura set her glass aside. “Sweetie, if you don’t tell him, you’ve lost him anyway. You’ll never really have him because you’ll have that lie between you and it will make you crazy.”
She was right, and Fiona really didn’t want her to be right.
“Or worse, what if his family tells him what’s been going on? What if he makes up with his grandfather and the old man brags about how he hired you to make it happen?”
Well, that was a horrifying thought. Fiona didn’t believe Jamison would do that, because he wouldn’t look good, either. But it could happen; her secret wasn’t safe.
“Telling him the truth is really your only shot.”
“And I really don’t want it to be,” Fiona admitted. God, she could still feel Luke’s arms around her. Taste his mouth on hers. The thought of losing him now was almost more than she could take.
“Honey, I know that.” Laura turned and grabbed two still-warm cookies off the tray and handed one to Fiona. “But at least once it’s done, you’ll know where you really stand.”
Fiona took a bite because she felt obligated, but as good a baker as Laura was, the cookie tasted like sawdust. Fiona didn’t have to find out where she would stand when she told Luke the truth. She knew exactly where she would be standing.
On the outside looking in.
* * *
By the following afternoon, Luke was more torn than ever. He left work early because he just couldn’t concentrate. Fiona stayed in his mind all the time now. Not just images of her, or the memories of incredible sex. It was her words haunting him, too. Everything she’d said the night before kept echoing in his brain, forcing him to sort through too many thoughts at once, struggling to make sense of everything and find the right path to take.
It wasn’t just Fiona, either. Since meeting her, he’d become more aware, somehow. He’d noticed how people were attached to their phones. He saw little kids in restaurants, eyes on screens filled with laughing cartoon characters or brightly colored patterns. He realized that technology, while a boon to civilization—which he still believed—also had a downside.
It could keep families from staying connected.
Standing on his patio, staring out at the ocean, Luke had to wonder if his brilliant idea to hook small children on technology was the right path to take. He still believed technology was the wave of the future and that he wanted to be a part of it.
But everything Fiona had said to him the night before had sparked enough concern that he’d done more research of his own—all morning. And what he’d found had him second-and third-guessing himself. She’d been right about all of it. Kids were getting more and more isolated. Teen anxiety and depression rates were up, and toddlers were turning up with language delays after spending too much time with screens and not enough time talking with the grown-ups caring for them.
Scowling now, he took a sip of coffee and watched a lone surfer grab a wave and ride it to shore. “Another thing Fiona was right about,” he muttered. “I’m going to miss being right on the ocean like this.”
But wasn’t that quandary a lot like his other problem at the moment? To live on the beach meant putting up with thousands of strangers staring in his windows or tossing trash onto his patio. Like being too involved with electronics cost a kid his own imagination. His own dreams.
He was moving to a cliffside house to protect his privacy. He was giving up what looked great for the right to make his life what he wanted it to be. Shouldn’t he give his customers the same chance? By pushing tablets and screens on small children, wasn’t he metaphorically tossing trash onto their patios?
“Damn it, Fiona.” He gulped at his coffee and felt the burn as it scalded its way down his throat.
Do you really want to let this keep you apart until it’s too late to fix it?
Her words had been circling his brain for hours.
Of course he didn’t want Jamison to die with this stupid argument between them. Hell, he didn’t want Jamison to die, period. And Luke was half convinced the old man was immortal. He was always so strong. So confident. So totally in control.
And Luke had turned out just like him. No wonder they clashed. Neither one of them was willing to give an inch. Back either one of them into a corner and they’d fight like mad to hold on to what they thought was right. Which meant that neither of them had ever learned how to bend.
On that thought, Luke pulled his phone from his back pocket and hit speed dial for his grandfather’s office.
“Barrett.”
“Cole?” Luke asked, recognizing his cousin’s voice instantly. “What are you doing answering Pop’s phone?”
“Pop’s not here today,” Cole said. “He took a personal day.”
“Has there been an apocalypse nobody told me about?” Luke frowned at the phone. “Pop never takes a day off.”
Cole sighed heavily. “He’s eighty years old, Luke. For God’s sake, can’t the man take a nap without your say-so?”
“He’s napping?” Something was wrong. Jamison lived on about five hours sleep a night. Always had. And he had more energy than any ten men. Naps? Personal days? This was not Jamison Barrett.
“Did you expect him to live forever?” Cole countered. “He’s an old man. You left and that changed everything for him. But I’m still here so I’m helping out.”
That stung. Mostly because it was true. “Fine. Is he at home?”
“Yes, and don’t call him.”
“Excuse me?” Anger buzzed around like a hornet inside his mind.
“He needs the rest, Luke. He doesn’t need you calling to argue with him again.” Cole took a breath and said, “Look, I didn’t want to say anything, but Pop’s furious with you. Feels like you deserted him.”
Regret and pain tangled together inside him, but Luke didn’t argue with Cole. What would be the point? Besides, it wasn’t his cousin he had to talk to. It was Pop.
“Just leave him be.”
More emotions gathered inside him, nearly choking him. Since when did Cole call the shots not only for the company but for the family? “Yeah, thanks. Think I’ll talk to him anyway.”
“You would,” Cole said. “Never think about the old man. Just do what Luke wants. That sounds right.”
There was more bitterness than usual in his voice and Luke wondered what else was going on. “What’s your problem, Cole?”
“Same as always,” his cousin said. “You.” He hung up before Luke could say anything.
“Well, damn. Things have gone downhill fast.” He’d talked to his grandfather just before the San Francisco trip and he’d been fine. Pissed off, but fine. A little more than a week later, to hear Cole tell it, Jamison was at death’s door and Cole was the new sheriff in town.
Luke turned his face into the wind, hoping that the icy air would sweep away all the conflicting, troubling thoughts. Naturally, it didn’t work. He had some things to do, but when he was finished, he’d be going to his grandparents’ house to settle things.
* * *
Jamison had had enough. Damned if he’d sit back and wait for the proverbial ax to fall. He had always been a big believer that it was better to know something than to worry or guess about it.
And the last straw had been that contract that he’d supposedly signed. He knew damn well he hadn’t. So what the hell was going on with him?
“I hate doctors’ offices,” he
muttered. Impersonal, almost terrifying places that were cold, clinical, where the pale green walls seemed to have absorbed years of worry and then echoed it back into whoever happened to be in there. He shot a dirty look at the examination table and stayed right where he was in the most uncomfortable chair in the world. “I hate being here.”
“Hey, me, too.” Dr. Bill Tucker walked in, closed the door and then sat down on a chair opposite Jamison. “What say we blow this place?”
Jamison grinned in spite of the situation. Bill Tucker had been his doctor for twenty years. Somewhere in his sixties, Bill had gray hair, kind brown eyes and a permanent smile etched onto his face. Not one of those plastic it’ll be all right smiles, but a real one. And today, Jamison needed to see it.
“What’s going on, Jamie? Didn’t expect to see you until your physical in a couple months.”
“This couldn’t wait.” God, he hated this. Hated thinking he was losing his mind. Hated even more that someone might be trying to convince him he was going crazy.
Jamison had created what he’d always thought of as a family atmosphere at Barrett’s. Had one of the people who’d worked for him for years turned on him? Why? It was the only thing that could explain what was happening to him, though he hated to consider it.
Bill gave him a rare frown. “Okay, tell me.”
Jamison did, and as he told the story, he began to feel better. More in control. He wasn’t being a passive observer to his own destruction anymore. He was finally doing something about it.
By the time he was finished, Bill wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t look worried, either.
“Jamie, that’s a strange tale.” He sat back and seemed to be mulling over his thoughts. “I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about, but we’ll do some tests. Starting with the SLUMS cognitive test.”
“Slums?”
Bill smiled again. “It’s an acronym for the Saint Louis University Mental Status test. It’s fast and will give us an idea of whether or not further testing will be necessary.”
Worry erupted in his belly again, but this time Jamison pushed it aside. He was done agonizing without information. If there was something wrong, he’d fix it. Or find someone who could.
“Fine. When do we start?”
Bill nodded sharply. “I’ll go get the test, and we can start right away.”
Alone again, Jamison went over the whole strange story in his mind and tried to figure out exactly when things had started going badly. He couldn’t pin it down to a specific day, but he knew damn well that he’d been fine a couple of months ago.
“And I’m fine now, too.”
He needed to believe it, because anything else was just unacceptable.
* * *
Fiona had spent the morning tracking down a band that had once played at her client’s high school dance, because the client wanted the same band to play at her wedding. In the last few years, that band had built an audience and, now, it spent a lot of time on the road, opening for bigger acts. Fiona’s client knew the odds of making this happen were long, but she really wanted it because she and her fiancé had met at one of those school dances.
It should have taken forever, but Fiona had a friend in the business who gave her the number of the band’s agent.
Once she explained the request to the woman, she put Fiona in touch with the band’s lead singer. He was so flattered at the request, he not only agreed to do the wedding, but he wasn’t going to charge them a thing. Especially after Fiona pointed out to him that a story like this was publicity gold.
The bride was ecstatic at the news, but once that call had been made, Fiona was left with her own troubling thoughts again. She had to tell Luke the truth. But before she did that, it was only fair that she let Jamison Barrett know what she was planning. She hoped he would understand, though she knew he might not, since Luke would be furious not only with her, but with his grandfather.
But there was no other choice. If she wanted a chance at long-term with Luke, and she did, then she had to remove the lie standing between them like a solid wall.
She didn’t have to meet her next client for an hour, so there was no time like now to get the chat with Jamison over and done.
Fiona dialed, took a deep breath and let it out when a familiar voice said simply, “Fiona.”
“Yes.” As usual, she paced aimlessly in her apartment and for the first time, wished for more space. Wished she were at Luke’s house so she could simply walk out onto the sand and feel the wind in her face.
“Now isn’t the best time.” His voice was short. Tense. “But I’ll be calling you tomorrow to talk about a new job.”
“What?” She hadn’t been expecting that at all. He sounded better than he had the last time she spoke with him, and she was glad of it. But it was the current job she had to talk to him about. “Mr. Barrett...”
“Sorry, Fiona, no time.” He hung up and Fiona was left hanging again.
“Now what?” she muttered darkly.
He had “no time” to hear about the job he’d hired her for? That didn’t make sense. And he wanted to hire her for something else? What was going on with Luke’s grandfather? And oh boy, did she wish she could talk to Luke about all of this. But she couldn’t. Because of the lies.
Which brought her back to: she had to tell Luke everything and try to explain. Just the thought of that turned her stomach and made her regret ever getting into this in the first place. Although if she hadn’t accepted the job from Jamison Barrett, she never would have met Luke at all.
God, she had a headache.
If she didn’t tell Luke soon, he might find out on his own. And that would be worse. But if she did tell him without first telling his grandfather, that wouldn’t be fair to the older man.
She was still caught. Trapped. In her own lie.
Nine
“Mr. Barrett. I didn’t expect you here today.”
Luke glanced at the other man. One of his top marketing guys, David Fontenot, was tall, blond and tanned. As the head of market research for Luke’s new company, Dave ran the focus groups brought in to try out their new products. He knew how to read the kids’ reactions to the tech they were introduced to and knew exactly how to push those products in the best markets.
“I wanted to come and watch the focus group for myself this time.” He’d been getting reports, of course, from Dave himself, the observers, designers, graphic artists. But given the conversation he and Fiona had had the night before, Luke had decided it was time to get some firsthand information.
“Sure.” Dave waved one hand down the hall and started walking. “I’ll show you where you can sit and watch. We’ve got a group of six kids for today.”
“How old?”
Dave winced, then laughed. “This is the toddler bunch. I’ll tell you right off that getting the younger kids to settle down and pay attention is a little like trying to herd cats.”
Luke lifted one eyebrow. “Aren’t the tablets supposed to do that? Engage young minds, get them to learn?”
“Of course. Sure.” Dave spoke quickly, explaining. “But first, we have to get them to notice the tablets. And the truth is, I think the toddlers scare Andy—he’s our guy in the room. They’re a little overwhelming—”
“So get someone else in there.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, that’s the thing. Mr. Barrett, we can’t get anyone else to volunteer to be in the middle of toddlers. The older kids? No problem. Plenty of volunteers.” He shrugged. “Andy will get the job done, though. I promised him I’d buy his coffee for a week.”
“Good bribe,” Luke said, approving.
“Not for me, since I’ll be paying, and he drinks a lot of coffee.” Dave opened a door at the end of the hallway and showed Luke into a tiny room with four empty chairs. “You can stay here. This is one of three observation rooms.�
��
“Thanks.” Luke didn’t usually come down here to the satellite office in Irvine. Marketing, research and design were located here but he was able to stay on top of everything through email and phone calls.
He checked his watch. “When does it start and how long will it last?”
Dave took his phone out to check the time. “The kids will be going inside any minute and with the toddlers, we don’t go longer than a half hour.” He shrugged and grinned. “By then they want a drink or a nap or a banana.”
For participating in the focus groups, the kids would get a toy and their parents received gift cards for any restaurant they chose. And hopefully, Luke and his team would get the information they needed to perfect their toys and tablets.
Dave nodded. “There they are now.”
Luke watched six tiny kids race into the room. The area was filled with beanbag chairs, small tables littered with paper and crayons, and of course, his company’s toys and tablets. For toddlers, the tablets were practically unbreakable and came in cases that were in bright primary colors.
Andy, the volunteer who apparently wished he were anywhere else, did his best to steer the kids toward the tablets, and four of the six complied. They turned on the tablets, and bright patterns and storyboards sailed across the screens. Those four toddlers immediately sat down to study the program playing, and Luke watched as they settled down and focused on the screen pattern.
The other two kids, though, chased each other around the small play area while Andy tried unsuccessfully to corral them.
Luke smiled to himself at the sound of the giggles streaming through the speakers. Two out of six were playing, coloring, jumping onto the beanbag chairs. And he suddenly remembered Laura’s son, Travis, running across the yard chasing a ball while the neighbor kids sat on a porch lost in their screens.
He could almost hear Fiona’s voice in his ear, talking about kids playing, using their imaginations. He could see her eyes, staring up into his, and he heard her telling him to take a chance at compromise with his grandfather.
Jet Set Confessions (HQR Desire) Page 12