by Misty Evans
“Friend,” she heard Jacob say. “Hmm, yes.”
The engine noise and the contented feeling brought on by the warmth in her stomach nearly put her to sleep. She drifted for a bit, letting the plane and the liquor do their thing. Mindless drifting where she didn’t have to think about 3 Wishes, or rock stars, or embarrassing limps.
Sometime later, the plane hit an air pocket and she jerked out of her hazy, semi-comatose state to find Jacob watching her. His eyes were half-lidded as if he were sleepy, too, and a shock of fire went from her chest all the way down to her toes.
Not sleepy.
Yearning.
Hungry.
For her? That couldn’t be right.
His gaze dropped to her lips, and oh, boy, the memory of The Kiss—properly capitalized in her mind—bloomed into glorious Technicolor.
Her toes curled in their massage footies and her breath caught in her throat. She wanted a repeat. Not because she wanted to be with him. Hell, no. She just wondered if he kissed like that all the time. And where else he might be good with his lips.
Right. Lying again, Jen.
Scraping her mind out of the gutter, she reached for humor, her constant, reliable companion. “Tell me I wasn’t drooling. Or snoring.”
She wiped at her mouth, hoping to get a laugh, but that was the wrong thing to do. His gaze zeroed in on her lips once more and she automatically licked them. They tasted like lime and cranberry.
And then Jacob groaned, fumbled with his seatbelt, and shot out of the chair, nearly spilling the last of the melting ice in his glass and running into the table in front of them.
“Mary,” he called, skirting around the club chairs and down the center of the aisle. “Time for a refill.”
Jenna was breathing hard, like she’d walked a couple miles, and she didn’t know why. What was going on between them?
She wanted to be scared of it, but she wasn’t. No one had ever treated her like she was precious, except for her parents and Alex. No one had ever told she was beautiful, or taken her on a private jet, or made her feel confident and alive.
Her cell phone vibrated and she checked her messages. Wanda.
Problem with Hawke’s wire transfer. It didn’t go through.
Larry in Financial is checking on it.
That was weird. Hawke had given her a check in front of a bunch of reporters, one of those big, fake ones like Publishers Clearing House so the cameras could see the amount. And then later, his publicist had asked her for the 3 Wishes’ bank routing number. Hawke would be wiring the ten grand to her directly. Make that fifteen after his latest addition.
Something had gotten mixed up for sure. Maybe Jenna had written down a wrong number or something. Larry would get it figured out.
Jacob was making his way back to her, a slight scowl on his face as he juggled his fresh drink and his briefcase. Had she said something? Done something to make him look like that? He’d seemed fine and then…bam. He’d shot out of his chair like she’d set fire to his ass.
He stopped before he reached her and slid into one of the normal seats, facing the front. The chair had a high back and she couldn’t see him.
Jenna sat back and closed her eyes. Whatever. Figuring out the men in her life would have to wait until morning. Right now, she had a date with a massage chair and a couple of fantasies about living the life of a rich and famous nonprofit foundation president.
10
Where the hell was Jenna? She'd completely vanished on him. Or maybe the girl just needed a break from you. They had been together nearly all the previous damn day.
Then she'd gotten that mysterious text last night and vanished as soon as they'd checked in saying she had work to do. She was staying in the penthouse suite with him that was separated into two apartments. He should have been able to keep track of her easily enough. Granted, she had her own entrance and he'd had an early call that morning, but the girl seemed determined to escape him.
During his call, she’d texted to say she was going to run a few errands. Errands? What kind of errands?
They had a walk-through of the venue at ten and a tasting with the caterers at noon. Then she needed to review some paperwork. But that meant they had the rest of the afternoon free and he wanted to—
Fuck, who was he kidding, he wanted to spend some time with her. In a capacity where he wasn't telling her what to do or wear or how to act. Unless it’s the bedroom.
The more he turned her into Jessica Rabbit's twin sister, the more he missed her ugly black Chuck Taylors.
What the hell is wrong with you? She's beautiful. Yeah, but he may have liked her better when she was cute...hiding under her oversized t-shirts and hoodies. She hadn’t worn a braid once in the week they'd been working more closely together and he missed the ridiculous urge he sometimes had to tug on it.
Oh, you can still tug on her hair. All you have to do is have her naked first and you can tug all you want.
The image in his head burned its way into his skull. Right. She wasn’t on the menu. Not when she still had Hawke on the brain. He knew women. Which meant he also knew better than to think Hawke being a wanker would be enough to kill her crush.
She thought Jacob was perfect and that his confidence came naturally. Well it hadn't. He'd fought for every ounce of respect. Left to his mother's devices, he'd be some academic somewhere tucked away. But he'd wanted this too, and he'd fought for it. Sooner or later she'd learnt he was a fighter and when he wanted something he was going to get it.
Now the only real question was: How badly did he want Jenna?
Enough fantasizing about a woman you're not sure about. Time to get to work. Her not being around was actually perfect for the time being. It would give him a chance to make some visits. Swinton's contributions to 3 Wishes helped the children who were most in need of a miracle. But there were so many other children. Children like his sister Abigail who needed a friend and confidante.
Jacob changed quickly into jeans and texted Jenna to meet him at the venue at ten. In the meantime he had some work to do.
Within ten minutes, he was on the road heading to see Calen Moore. He'd been working with Calen and his family for almost three years now. When he'd first met the little boy, he was eight years old. He'd been playing in his yard when his ball rolled into to street, making the driver swerve and hit him.
The kid was in hospitals for the rest of third and most of fourth grades. That year, 3 Wishes had only had enough funding to help some of the children they heard about.
That little kid's smiling picture was the thing Jacob couldn't resist in his file. He'd decided to help him personally. After all, he might as well spend his money on something. And there was no way he wasn’t helping that kid. His mother might have thought there was a limit to Swinton’s generosity and funding, but he disagreed.
Jacob drove the few miles out of the city to the tiny house with the desert oasis for the garden. A lanky kid threw a ball to a giant black lab. They were clearly taking full advantage of the cooler-than-usual morning. Under normal circumstances, neither one of them could dare to be out and about in the sweltering Vegas heat.
He parked in front of the house and Calen was running before he even had the door open.
“Holy shit. Jake, you're here.”
Jacob's lips twitched, both at the kid taking the opportunity to swear with no parents around, and for the more familiar version of his name that no one used but Jenna when she was irritated with him. “Hi, Calen. I see you're moving around and mobile.” The hitch in his step was only mildly noticeable.
The kid wrapped him in a tight hug and Jacob smiled and returned it. This was what he liked best about helping these kids. There was a personal connection, not an anonymous donation. There were 'residual feels' as Jenna would say. “It's good to see you. Geez, mate, you must've grown a foot.”
The kid released him and grinned. “Almost. I'm the tallest kid in my class. We even had to get me a new prosthetic because I’m gr
owing so fast.”
He'd known that of course. The rehabilitation center was Swinton-owned and he took care of those bills. “That’s brilliant, Calen. Your mom inside?”
“Yeah. And this is Max. We got him six months ago from a rescue. He had a bad leg like me, but he's all better now. Aren’t you, boy?”
The enormous lab sat on his haunches and gave Jacob what looked like a wide, lolling smile. He'd never been allowed a pet. And to be truthful, his lifestyle probably didn't support one now. But the dog's big, brown eyes melted his heart.
Calen's mother stepped out of the house, her voice full of concern. “Calen, who are you talking to?”
Jacob turned and smiled. “Hi, Ruth.”
Her wide grin broke free. “Jacob Swinton! Why on God’s green earth didn't you call first? Rick would have liked to see you.”
Her strides were fast and confident. She was a far cry from the woman he'd met three years ago who'd hung onto his leg and begged him to help her baby. He liked this version much better. He locked the car and let Calen and the dog lead the way. When she reached him, she gave him a hug so tight he fought for breath.
But who was he kidding? This was the best part. Not only knowing he'd helped people, but feeling like part of their family. He was a selfish prick. Or at least he felt that way. He used to help anonymously, but he soon realized so many people needed things money couldn't solve. Like a hand or a call or a friend. And he got the contact high.
One of the kids he'd helped with his money had done the trick, but what his older brother needed was a mentor. It had become a bit of an addiction for him. These families, his surrogate families, filled the hole and void he had in his life. One that Abigail partially filled. The warmth he'd never really known growing up.
For everyone he helped he had a private phone they could call if they ever needed anything, wanted anything. So far all anyone called for was to say thank you and invite him to things. Like birthday parties, graduations, and weddings. He attended as many as he could. And if he couldn't, he made a point to see them as close to the event as he could.
The only thing he ever asked for in return was their silence. Yeah, he took their gratitude and warmth, but he didn’t want a spectacle made out of it. It wasn't for show. “How are you, Ruth?”
“Better now for seeing your gorgeous British mug. Come in, come in.”
“Okay, but only for a little while. I’m sorry I missed Calen's graduation from middle school, so I wanted to pop in. I figured a surprise would be better.”
“Yes, but Rick’s on a business trip. He would have liked to say hi.”
Rick was her husband and Calen’s stepfather. Good guy, if a little austere. He hadn't been so keen on accepting money from Jacob. It had taken Jacob some time to wear him down. To show that all he wanted was what was best for Calen.
That sort of thing happened often enough that he let the parents take the lead. But he always followed up. He wasn’t just there for the helping feel-good. Money didn’t solve everything. “Ahh, it's okay. I was here on business, so I figured I could get away for a bit.”
She put a cup of Earl Grey tea in front of him and he grinned. She’d started stocking the stuff when they'd met. She assumed because he was British that he liked tea. He didn't have the heart to tell her he really preferred coffee. And that he hated the taste. It was about the gesture and how she made him feel comfortable. He pulled the envelope out of his back pocket and handed it to Ruth, but spoke to Calen. “I understand you made straight A's and you joined the debate and track team.”
He grinned. “Yeah. I mean, I’m slower than most of the other kids, but I like it. I'm competing against myself and I’m not the slowest boy either.”
His grin was so broad that tears pricked Jacob's lids. Fuck he loved the bloody kid. He loved all the kids. He felt like they were all his. “That's amazing. I'm really proud of you.”
“Thanks Jacob. I'm really grateful. I know I couldn't do any of this stuff without you.”
“Yeah, you could. You'd just have taken a different path to get here. That said, I wanted to say congratulations. In that envelope your mom has is something I’m going to need you to work for a little longer. You're in junior high now. It's going to get more challenging. You’re a bright kid though, so I think you can do it.”
“You bet. I'm so excited. And Jacob, there are girls in junior high.”
Jacob groined. “Yes, well, I think there were girls in elementary school, too.”
Calen shook his head. “They look a lot more interesting in junior high.”
Ruth gasped. “Calen Moore!”
Jacob chuckled. “That they do. So your gift in there, it has to do with something you've always wanted to do. You know the Formula 1 driver, Alex McIntyre?”
“Of course I do. Are you kidding? He's awesome. I mean, he raced his way up through Formula 2 and he's huge!”
“That’s true. He's also a friend of mine.”
The kid's eyes rounded and his mouth hung open. “Wow. You know everybody, don’t you?”
“I was thinking in August you might like to go see him race in Atlanta for the exhibition show. You and your parents.”
“Holy shit!” Calen jumped up, startling the dog and waking him up from a sound, snoring nap.
“Calen, language.” Ruth shook her head. “That's too much, Jacob, we couldn’t possibly.”
Jacob lowered his voice so he could convey that he wasn’t taking it back. “You don’t have to worry about expensive tickets and the like. I have a plane. It will pick you up, take you to Atlanta, you'll stay at the Swinton Hotel and the race entry is on Alex, so really, there's nothing to pay back. I already have a plane. And whether I use it or not I still pay, so someone else might as well use it. And the Swinton Atlanta keeps a room for me whether I’m there or not.” He shrugged. “So you might as well.”
Calen looked like he might jump out of his skin. “Mom, please say yes. Please, please, please.”
The smile tugged at her lips. “Jacob, you do too much for us.”
“It’s what you do for family.” He didn't share with her that doing things for Calen did more for him than it did for them. No, he'd kept that as his little secret.
An hour later, he was on his way back to the hotel when Jenna called. He navigated the streets of the strip as he answered the call on the car's Bluetooth. “Jenna, hi.”
“Hey, where are you? I came back an hour ago and you were missing in action.”
“Sorry. Didn’t you see my text?”
He could hear her rustling around. “Oh, I guess it's right here. Sorry. I just thought...”
She thought he’d abandoned her. In the middle of a random city. He was going to kill that wanker. “I'll be there in ten. If I get through this traffic. Where did you run off too?”
She was silent for a beat. “Oh, you know. I wanted to keep up the hard work you put in and grabbed an early morning spa appointment.”
He frowned. He could hear it in her voice. She was lying. Why?
“Where have you been, Jake? Gambling? Seeing a friend?”
Shit. He also hesitated for a moment. He didn’t want anyone knowing about his family. “I, uh, had a meeting.” He changed the subject. “When I get there we’ll check out the venue and the caterers and then head out for some fun.”
“Fun. I like the sounds of that. See you soon.”
11
Jenna hated lying. Hated it with a passion. People had lied to her nonstop since her accident in order to spare her feelings and keep her hopes up. It was what they did, and she appreciated the fact they loved her enough to pretend things were okay when they weren’t; she despised blatant lying for no good reason.
I have a good reason, she told herself. Jacob wouldn’t understand.
She’d unfortunately not spent her morning at the spa. Instead, she’d sat in a vice president’s office of the most private banking institution in Las Vegas asking embarrassing questions about Hawke Thorn.
Larry, her financial guru at 3 Wishes had texted her at the penthouse the night before. The wire transfer from Hawke was a bust. The bank it was drawn on, Elite Vegas Financial, catered to the very rich and very famous only and had canceled the transfer with no reason stated. Larry had called them, but they’d insisted for security purposes they would only talk to the head of 3 Wishes. Larry had told her it was probably like she thought—she’d written down the wrong routing number on their form or, because of the large sum, they needed her verification. She’d called the VP, but he’d told her the reason wasn’t because of the routing number. He wasn’t allowed to say why the transfer had been canceled.
Stupid, Jenna. She’d already been planning what to do with that money. There was a group of kids always asking for riskier adventures than going to Disneyland or riding a horse. They wanted to try mountain climbing, white water rafting, race car driving. She’d talked to Alex about starting a High Adventure Club for these kids with specially trained supervisors who would keep them safe while also letting them experience their dream.
Hawke’s hundred thousand dollars was going to be the foundation of that club.
If she got her hands on it.
First thing this morning, she’d put on her best suit, snuck out of the penthouse, and caught a cab. Elite Vegas Financial had towered over her as she stood on the sidewalk, waiting for them to open. Once inside she insisted on speaking to the person in charge. His assistant had tried putting her off, but with her newfound confidence she’d pulled a Van and landed in the VP’s office a few minutes later.
She wanted her money, dammit, so she asked Mr. VP to get Hawke on the phone and straighten the snafu out.
The VP only managed to raise Hawke’s publicist. Jenna couldn’t hear both ends of the conversation, but what she’d heard on her end turned her stomach. The promised money wasn’t available. In essence, Hawke’s check had bounced.