by L G Rollins
“Or how many women you call ‘sweetheart’?” she interjected.
He sighed. She had him there. “Yes. No matter how many women I call ‘my dear’ or ‘sweetheart’, I promise I am not a rake.”
A small part of her smile returned, lighting up her eyes once more. At least they had that settled. Had she truly been worried he was going to take advantage of her? No wonder he hadn’t been able to reach her with his compliments and flirting.
Her teasing air was back, though Ju still seemed intent on not letting it show on her lips. They, instead, remained puckered and pulled to one side, looking entirely kissable.
No—no—no. A man did not proclaim himself to be honorable in one sentence and kiss a woman in the next. It was like solemnly swearing you hated soup at supper while picking up a spoon and grabbing a bowl.
From his front foyer came a call. “Jasper!” Ah, lud, he knew that voice—and that tone.
“I’ll be right back,” he told Ju. “And please remind your mother, she works for me, and when I say I don’t want my dirty floors cleaned, I mean it.”
Ju shook her head defiantly. “I’ve seen her wield a floor brush and she’s mightier with that than a wooden spoon.”
With a chuckle, he stalked out of the room and down the long hallway which took him to his front door.
Tressa stood with her arms crossed and what could only be described as a furious expression. Ah, blast it all, what had he done now? Jasper’s step slowed as he reached her.
“Look, Tressa,” he started before she could say anything. “I’ve done supper with you and your house guest like you asked. I know I haven’t shown Miss Rowley all of London yet, but—”
“Shut your trap, Jasper. This isn’t about her.”
“Well what is it about then?”
“I want you to think really hard.”
He was. Tressa had already said this wasn’t about entertaining her unwanted house guest. He hadn’t spoken to any of her acquaintances so she couldn’t be mad at something he’d said. He hadn’t used her in any of his art projects without her consent lately, so that probably wasn’t it either.
“Dunderhead,” she muttered. “It’s Tom.”
Tom? Gads. “Did something happen? Is he all right?”
Her scowl only deepened. “Yes, something happened. You happened.”
“Me?” He was still at a loss, but so long as the boy was safe then at least he could breathe a bit better.
“You don’t even remember!” She looked up toward the ceiling as if beseeching the very gears above for help with him. He didn’t blame her. With him for a younger brother, she probably needed it. When she spoke again her words came out slow and precise. “You promised him days ago you would come over to Westwood, pick him up, and the two of you would go do something together.”
A heavy, pulling weight pressed down on Jasper. “Ah, lud, I forgot.” With everything that had happened lately, who wouldn’t have forgotten? Excuses didn’t help ease the knot of disappointment in Jasper’s stomach.
“Clearly you forgot,” Tressa bit back.
“Well, it’s not as if I have nothing else going on right now, you know.” His sister was one of the few people who did know.
“Doesn’t matter to Tom, now, does it? He’s moping about Westwood like his dog just died. Worse than that, it’s like he lost his parents all over again. I’ve been racking my brainbox trying to figure out what happened and finally got him to confess this morning.”
“Don’t blame me. I told you I wasn’t a good influence for him. I told you he couldn’t keep looking up to me.”
“Too bad. He does. You’re stuck with that. Now what are you going to do to fix the situation?”
Gads, had he really let the boy down so bad? If he had, then it would be better for them both if they stopped spending so much time together. “I’ll do as I told Brox. I’ll tell him to stop idolizing me.”
“Jasper.” Tressa’s tone dropped hard, as in scary hard. “You live any way you want. You do whatever you want whenever you want. It’s time you started thinking about what kind of a legacy you’re leaving.”
Legacy? “I’m not some old, decrepit man trying to decide between becoming an assassin or a philanthropist.” Jasper had never tried to live for the future. The present was all that concerned him. And presently he wanted to stop Leng and find a way to convince Ju that he cared for her. Anything else would have to take a back seat.
“Oh please, just this once, think about more than yourself and your art and go patch things up with Tom.”
“Fine. I’ve got something else I need to do this morning—”
Tressa’s glare hardened yet further.
“—but as soon as I’m done I’ll swing by Westwood and talk with Tom. Maybe we could . . . go . . .”
“Maybe you could go now. He doesn’t want some special trip to go see something neither of you care about. He wants to spend time with you, doing whatever it is you do all day long.”
“I’m teaching Zhi ju to shoot a gun, if you must know.”
“The ghost’s daughter?”
“The one and only. Now, what kind of activity is that for a young boy to get mixed up in?”
“Sounds perfect to me. I’ll let him know you’ll be right over.”
“Are you serious? You want me to let that little boy hang around while I teach someone to use a gun?” Tom seemed far too young to be around guns and the like. Then again, that might be just the reason he needed to convince Tressa to let him fix this later. “He’s only going to want to try shooting it himself. What kind of a worthy idol would I be if I let that little boy around guns?”
“That’s exactly what he needs.”
Gads, she was serious. Jasper rubbed his eyes.
“Listen.” Tressa’s voice finally softened. “I don’t believe in the ideal. I know these children are bound for a rough life after they leave Westwood. If Tom can leave knowing how to shoot, all the better. Truth is, Tom’s at the age that, if his father was still living, the man probably would be teaching him how to shoot.”
Now she was grouping Jasper and Tom’s dead father in the same category. That was the exact opposite of what Jasper wanted. He let out a defeated sigh. “Just do me a favor and do not ever compare me to Tom’s father again.”
Tressa shrugged, but didn’t promise anything. “Finish up whatever it is you’re doing and hurry over. Tom will be waiting.”
Jasper waved her goodbye and then turned to find Ju watching him from the kitchen doorway.
“Oh, is Tom coming, too?” she asked. “He’s such a sweet boy.”
“What? Not going to pretend innocence and then wheedle your way into my confidence?”
Her nose scrunched. “I hope you never accuse me of such insincerity again.”
“Well then, my anything-but-insincere friend, you should know that Tom is a young boy I helped last spring that has stayed rather attached to me ever since. And now it looks as though he’ll be joining our shooting practice today.”
“Helped? In what way?”
Jasper opened his mouth to explain, but then thought better of it. “Perhaps you should ask him.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“And then Jasper careened around the corner in Brox’s motorcar.” Tom, with hands on an imaginary steering wheel ‘drove’ in circles in front of Jasper, Ju, and Mrs. Zhi as they walked toward Wei shu’s dancing school.
Jasper chuckled. It wasn’t as though Tom had been conscious enough when Jasper had brought Brox’s car around to remember any of this part of the story.
That didn’t seem to stop Tom from recounting it though.
“He slammed on the brake at just the right spot,” Tom continued, pumping his ‘brakes’ egregiously. If ever Tressa offloaded teaching Tom to drive onto Jasper, he’d have to bring extra cushions to protect himself from Tom’s stops.
“Tressa and Brox jumped in the motorcar, carrying me. The vampire was right behind them, clawing and screaming that
she would die before letting me get away.”
Jasper didn’t remember the clawing and screaming part, but who was he to argue with a young boy’s story?
Ju and Mrs. Zhi were an excellent audience. They ‘ooh’ed and ‘ahh’ed at all the right places. As Tom continued, Ju gave Jasper more than one sideways glance, eyebrow raised as though asking if this truly was how he and Tom met.
Jasper just shrugged and nodded. It was. Mostly.
“Jasper laid on the gas.”
More egregious pedal pumping.
This boy was bound to either be a motorcar racer or the kind of driver that crashed during his first attempt at driving.
“We zoomed down the street. I was in the back, leaking blood all over the seat.”
“Tom,” Jasper said. “You are speaking to ladies, remember that.”
“Sorry,” Tom said in an upbeat tone. “I mean, I was in the back, um, trying not to die.”
Well, it was an improved way of stating the truth. Thus far, Jasper had enjoyed listening to the boy’s version of what happened several months ago. But that phrase, “trying not to die” caught at him. It pulled him back to that dark night and Jasper’s brainbox kicked up the memory in vivid detail. His hands clenched against the cold, leather steering wheel. Tom’s small, deathly-pale frame slumped across the backseat. Driving down one street and then the next all the while checking over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t being pursued.
Ju pulled gently on his arm.
Jasper blinked. Tom was apparently done. Jasper had missed the end of the tale. Now the boy was several steps ahead talking with Mrs. Zhi about interesting rocks he’d found by the river last week.
“Did you truly rescue him from a vampire?” Ju asked.
“All I did was force-start Brox’s motorcar since I didn’t have the key, and drive Tom to the hospital. Tressa did most of the saving.”
Ju’s hand didn’t leave his elbow. He liked having it there. Now that he’d convinced her he was not a rake—the memory of their conversation earlier that morning brought with it a bit of bitterness—perhaps he could convince her to see him as more than an acquaintance as well.
“Either way,” Ju said as they turned down the street the dancing school was on. “I’m glad you were there that night. Tom is such a sweet boy.”
“That he is.” Now that the time had come for Jasper to speak up and tell Ju what he’d been thinking the past few days, he found it immensely intimidating.
“Is that bracelet new?” All right, so maybe he wasn’t quite ready.
Ju smiled down at the wide, thick bracelet which had slid halfway to her elbow when she had rested her hand on him. “It was a gift.”
A gift? As in, from an admirer? Heated jealousy flared up inside him.
Before he could say anything, Ju continued. “My father bought it for me before I was even born.”
Oh—well. Jasper suddenly felt far less defensive. The strong emotion subsided and in its place he felt foolish and a tinge guilty.
“After learning what really happened to him . . .” Ju shrugged. Her voice dropped low. “Between you and me, I feel terribly guilty that I’d always just assumed he didn’t want me or Mama.”
Jasper pulled her arm closer to him. “Don’t feel bad, dearest. How could you have known?”
She smiled up at him.
For a while they walked, arm in arm, not saying anything. It was comfortable, at least it seemed comfortable for Ju. Jasper was vacillating between enjoying the moment and tongue-binding panic over what needed to be said.
But, if he didn’t say it now, when would another opportunity avail itself? Right now they were alone; Tom and Mrs. Zhi were far enough ahead to not overhear, and Wei shu, Dapo, and any other of Ju’s friends were nowhere around to cause interruptions. Ever since it became clear Ambassador Leng wanted Mrs. Zhi dead it seemed there was always someone else around. Jasper appreciated that the Zhis had so many loyal friends, but it meant conversations between just the two of them were few and far between.
He needed to speak up. Now.
“Ju, sweetheart,” he said. “You remember how earlier today I called you my friend?”
She glanced up at him, her expression puzzled. Then she sighed and her features fell. “I’ll admit,” Ju said, patting his arm, “when we first met, I couldn’t figure you out. You were quite the puzzle. However, these past few days have allowed me to get to know you well. Please don’t worry. I understand.”
She understood? Understood what? And judging by the sigh and small slump to her shoulders, whatever she “understood” wasn’t making her happy. That either meant she didn’t know what he wanted to say, or worse, did know and didn’t want to hear it.
Blast. Well, Jasper was always in for a penny in for a pound. If he was willing to open his mouth, he was willing to stick his hole foot inside. The only thing he wasn’t willing to do was leave words unsaid.
“I’m not sure you do understand, my dear.”
“Oh, yes, I assure you I do,” Ju stated, quite emphatically. Again, though her words were sweet there was an edge of sadness to them. “I am sure you’ve run into this problem many times in the past.”
Great—not only did she “understand” but now there was a “problem” of his that she also supposedly knew all about. He was suddenly feeling quite at a loss.
Luckily, Ju continued. “With how often you banter the words ‘sweetheart’ and ‘my dear’ around, I am certain many a young lady has misinterpreted your interest in the past. But you don’t need to worry on my account. I understand you only mean it in a brotherly, friendly sort of way.”
Jasper’s heart sunk.
As in, sunk past his stomach, down his legs, and dribbled out his feet onto the pavement below.
A brotherly, friendly sort of way? That’s what she “understood”?
Nothing could be further from the truth. When he had said those sorts of things to other women, yes, that had been what he’d meant. But this time . . .
Hang it all. Of course Ju wouldn’t have known that when he said those things to her he meant more.
Ju’s steps slowed. Jasper paused mid-step and glanced over. She watched him with a creased brow and what looked like uncertainty.
“It is true that we’re friends, right?” she asked.
Now she even felt unsure if they were friends. Devil take him. Devil take his short-sighted actions. Devil take his stupid, stupid self.
“Of course we’re friends,” he said, pressing the hand she had against his arm closer to him. It was all he could do, according to propriety. Still, it felt woefully inadequate. “We will always be the very best of friends.”
Well, at least now he knew why she never showed signs of wanting more from their relationship. She was convinced he would never want more. It was something, if a painful, heart-dropping sort of something.
Fine then, Jasper would just have to change her mind. Prove to her that he didn’t see her as just another pretty face. She was dedicated, strong, fiery; everything he could want in a woman and more.
Well, if he had his druthers, he’d have a woman who “understood” he cared. But at least now he saw where she was coming from. Now he had something to work with. And work for Ju he willingly would.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Wei shu was right. Jasper Wimple was an unrepentant flirt.
Ju’s hands moved as though on their own, folding the square joss paper into lotus flowers, but her mind remained otherwise occupied. She and Jasper had spent several hours together, shooting blanks out of the gun Jasper had lifted from the would-be killer yesterday. Jasper had called her ‘sweetheart’ and ‘my dear’ just has she’d heard him do to nearly every other woman at the dancing school a few weeks before.
He’d stood close to her when showing her how to aim, and often left his hand against the small of her back when she shot.
Ju finished the flower, set it aside with the rest, and pulled another sheet of paper toward her.
> There was no denying that she’d loved every minute of it. Ju’s hand, halfway through a fold, dropped to the gun still strapped to her thigh, hidden beneath her long jacket. She’d loved it, except for those few minutes halfway through their practice when the reality of why she was learning to shoot had bubbled up and sent a tear down her cheek.
Jasper had held her then. His large arms had wrapped around her and pulled her close. Ju closed her eyes, breathing in the memory. It had been as though all the troubles of the world were pressing in and threatening to suffocate her but couldn’t get past his strong arms and broad chest. It had been heavenly.
That was, until Wei shu’s voice pipped up inside her brainbox.
“You need to be careful.”
“He is an unrepentant flirt.”
“You are a hopeless truster.”
“I worry he will break a heart or two.”
Ju let out a long, sad breath and saw the small paper flower in front of her for the first time. Was that all she was to Jasper? Another heart to break? Another woman to flirt with, and then walk away from? She had told him as much during their conversation, she had even convinced him that she was all right with them only being friends. Except, when she took time to truly think about it, she wasn’t all right at all. Ju glanced over at the pile of finished lotus flowers.
Holy gears above. When had she done so many? She must have utterly been lost in thought. Gracious, if she continued on like this it would be her heart that he broke next. Ju, being alone in her and Mama’s small home, tsked at herself aloud. She was far more level-headed than this.
Ju quickly finished the flower in front of her and tossed it into the pile with the rest. She wasn’t going to be one-of-many. She had no desire to pine for a man who saw her as such. Next time she was with Jasper, she would keep her head. They were friends, just as she and Dapo were friends.
Nothing more. Never would they be more.