by Raquel Belle
“Shit.” I just let the word out without thinking.
“Guess that’s him,” Beth says, a huge smile on her face. All three girls are grinning like Cheshire Cats.
“No wonder you fell for him, Cara.”
“What a hunk.”
The girls are chattering and giggling around me but I’m barely paying attention. I feel like I can barely breathe. After having just thought maybe it was too late to make amends with Jason, here he is, in the flesh. I thought I’d know how I felt once I saw him again but my emotions are a tornado of conflict right now. The sight of his smile makes my heart jump, but the thought of his deceit makes me ache—and in the pit of my stomach there’s still suspicion and distrust. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself as he steps back from the window and makes his way to the door of the coffee shop.
“Ladies,” he greets us all as he strides confidently up to the table.
“Hi Jason,” Jazz chirps.
“I see I don’t need to introduce myself,” he says with a grin.
“We may have heard a thing or two about you,” Grace says with a giggle. Jason looks at me but I don’t know what to say, there’s an uncomfortable silence which Grace—thankfully—fills. “I’m Grace by the way,” she says, extending her hand, “Nicholas Parker is my fiancé. I believe you two know each other.”
“Wow, small world,” Jason says, taking Grace’s hand. “Good to meet you. Please give my best to Nick.”
I still can’t make eye contact so Beth intervenes. “I guess you’ll want to steal Cara away from us for a chat, hmm?” She prods, elbowing me sharply.
“Yes. I’m afraid so. If you ladies will permit it—and if she’s willing to come with me.” He looks at me as he says this, his eyes clear and his gaze direct. I’m still mute and all I can do is nod. “Cara, I know you’re pissed. And you have every right to be. I just want a chance to tell you my side of the story—and explain why I acted like I did. It’s not an excuse but… You deserve to know the full story, right?”
I’m still staring at him, speechless.
“Oh yeah, she’s going with you,” Jazz jumps in. “We’ll catch up on the rest of the gossip another time, Cara.”
Beth nudges me in the side, trying to get me to my feet. “Close your mouth,” she stage whispers at me. Jazz and Grace giggle as I snap my mouth shut, realizing that it’s literally hanging open. Grace is already handing me my purse and Beth is practically lifting me to my feet out of my chair.
“Jeez, okay, okay, you all don’t have to shove me out the door,” I finally manage, cracking a weak smile. I take my purse from Grace’s outstretched hand and stand, feeling my legs shaking slightly.
“My car is just out front,” Jason says, nodding at a black town car through the window.
I follow his broad back out the door, giving the girls one last look over my shoulder—Grace pretends to do a dead faint against Jazz’s shoulder as she fans herself furiously with one hand while Jazz mouths the word “HOT!” to me and Beth makes little kissy faces. I roll my eyes but can’t help giggling. Thank god for these girls and their silliness. They know how to lighten my mood.
Jason opens the back door of the huge black car and ushers me inside.
“Where are we going?” I ask, suddenly realizing that I’m blindly following a man I no longer trust. “I don’t want to go anywhere fancy,” I add defiantly. I’m still bristling at the thought that he might have considered me a gold digger—and, I have to admit, I don’t want to be swept off my feet by some fancy billionaire move.
“Maury’s Boathouse, if that’s okay with you?” He pauses, raising an eyebrow as he gives me a reassuring look.
“Yes,” I breathe a sigh of relief as I sink back into the leather seat of the car. Maury’s is a small, low-key restaurant located along the water in lower Manhattan. “Nothing fancy.”
“Nothing fancy,” he assures me. He leans forward as he talks to the driver. “Maury’s Boathouse, Charles.” Then he turns to me. “We can talk there. Just a relaxed, casual dinner.”
“That’s fine.” I lean back in the leather seat and try to contain my emotions. I can’t even look at Jason right now or I’m afraid I’ll jump on him—or start crying. Or start shouting in frustration. Or all of the above.
“I hope you don’t mind me just showing up,” Jason goes on. “Laura told me where to find you. And after you ignored all my notes and flowers…”
“Yes. I mean, no. No, I don’t mind.” I turn to look at him for just a moment before averting my gaze again. “It’s good to see you,” I say softly, keeping my eyes fixed out the window. The car starts moving and I feel my heart jump yet again as I watch the New York City streets slip by. Seeing this tiny bit of Jason in his day-to-day life—clad in an expensive suit with a big watch, being chauffeured around in a black town car—is unreal to me. At least Maury’s Boathouse will be a simple, familiar setting. I’m not about to let Mr. Billionaire wow me with some glitz and glam. I breathe a sigh of relief.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jason
When Laura called me out of the blue and told me where to find Cara, I didn’t waste any time. I called Charles, my driver, immediately and had him bring the car out front. I was still supposed to have a couple conference calls this evening but I cancelled them all. When I pulled up to the Manhattan coffee shop Laura had specified, I recognized Cara immediately, even from the back. That blonde halo of hair on her head was shining as bright as ever and she was sitting with the same group of girls I’d seen her with that night at Edgar’s.
Now, on the entire car ride over, she’s quiet. I notice she seems visibly relieved when I tell her where we’re headed. Maury’s Boathouse is a nice seafood spot near the water in lower Manhattan. It’s a good, decent restaurant. It’s not red-checked tablecloths but it’s not white linen table cloths either. It falls somewhere in between in terms of fanciness. Of course, I didn’t tell Cara the real reason I had settled on Maury’s Boathouse.
It’s not until we enter the restaurant that my secret is out of the bag. “Holy fuck,” Cara exclaims as we enter. She turns to me with an almost accusing stare. The restaurant is empty. Normally it would be bustling with the after-work crowd of bankers and lawyers this time of the day. I took care of that. For the right amount of cash, you can get the place cleared out—even within a couple hours.
A single table in the middle of the broad open space is set with plates, cutlery, and wine glasses. All the other tables are empty except for a single, long white tapered candle sitting on each one, burning gently and casting a magical glow over the entire space. The room is lit only by candles and by some strings of white fairy lights pinned up on the walls. I watch as Cara takes in the room, her eyes glimmering with the reflection of the candlelight.
“Care to sit down?” I ask, gesturing towards the table in the middle.
“Sure,” she replies gruffly, striding ahead of me to the table. I pull out her chair for her and then take the seat opposite her. “Just a ‘relaxed, casual dinner’ huh?” she asks, arching an eyebrow.
“I wanted a quiet place to talk in private. It didn’t seem appropriate to invite you to my private residence…”
“So you cleared out an entire restaurant?”
I shrug. “I wanted you to be comfortable.”
“Always the gentleman,” she says, with a hint of sarcasm.
“I try.” I clear my throat, not sure where to start. I’ve been so intent on trying to get Cara to talk to me that I hadn’t even really thought about what I’d say if I ever got the opportunity. Now, the opportunity is staring me straight in the face. I’ve never seen her blue eyes look so steely. Even the candlelight can’t soften her gaze. I’m starting to get an idea of what it’s like to square off against this woman in a courtroom.
“The oysters, sir?” Mario’s gentle voice interrupts my train of thought.
“Yes, please.” I nod at him with a smile, regaining my composure.
“Is…that..
.” Cara stops, staring dumfounded at Mario—the owner and chef of Mario’s Bistro in Boston, where we had our first date.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Miss Conley,” Mario greets her with his warm smile and bows quickly. “Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Yes, please,” Cara says faintly, sitting back in her chair as she looks from Mario to me in confusion. Mario, totally unfazed, busily pours two glasses of white wine and then bustles off to the kitchen. “Did you…bring him over?”
“I know how much you like oysters,” I say with a smile and a shrug.
“But how did you get him here so quickly? I mean, how long have you been planning this?” Again, she eyes me with suspicion.
“I just found out from Laura a couple of hours ago that you were at the coffee shop, so I decided to try and find you there. On the off chance that you’d agree to hear me out, I went ahead and had this set up. With some help from my assistant, of course.”
She looks around the room in wonder. “But how did Mario get here so quickly from Boston? If you only put this plan into action a couple of hours ago, there’s no way you could book him a flight and get him on a plane—and get him to and from the airport in Boston and New York—that quickly.” She narrows her gaze, clearly convinced that I’m bullshitting her. “He must have already been in New York.”
“Cara, I swear, my assistant just made the arrangements to get him over here a couple hours ago. Mario has known me a long time so he’s willing to undertake some inconveniences. And as for the travel, I have a contract with a chopper service for emergencies. They picked up Mario and brought him here.”
“Oh,” she exhales the word, sinking back in her chair again, her eyes round with shock. “Emergency, huh?” She arches an eyebrow. Mario bustles in just then, setting down a huge mountain of oysters in front of us. Without hesitation, Cara reaches for one and digs in. I smile.
“Well, when my dream woman has blocked me and won’t even talk to me, yes, I consider that an emergency.”
“Dream woman, huh?” She averts her gaze, busily working on an oyster. “So I guess you have some things you’d like to say to your dream woman.” She places a sarcastic emphasis on the last two words. Her voice sounds authoritative but I recognize the slightest tremor in it and see a hint of what I saw on the boat the day the storm caught us—fear. She’s nervous but determined not to show it. My heart swells at the thought.
“Yeah, I do.” I pause as I take her in, sitting there across from me. It’s only been two days since I last saw her and seeing her now, in the flesh, I realize with a jolt how much I’ve missed her. She looks slightly tired—as if she hasn’t been sleeping much—but she’s as gorgeous as ever. She clearly went from work straight to meet her girlfriends and is still clad in attorney-appropriate work-wear, a slim-fitting grey pencil skirt and a light blue blouse. She’s pushed up the sleeves and undone the top buttons to cope with the muggy August weather, but a thin veneer of sweat can still be seen across her forehead and her chest. The pendant necklace, sparkling as strong as ever, remains in place, where it always is, guiding my hungry eyes briefly to the line of her cleavage.
“So?” As if well aware what I’m thinking, she looks up from the oyster she’s been wrestling with and stares at me.
“Cara, I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am for the way everything went down. I never wanted to cause any strife between you and Laura. I just couldn’t...” I clear my throat and look away for a moment, unable to meet her piercing gaze. Then I square up my shoulders, meet her eyes, and give it to her straight. “I’ve never felt about a woman the way I feel about you. This was far from just a physical thing. Like I told you, you’re a woman I can really see myself with. If I’m going to be completely honest, you’re the woman I see myself with. I just hope there’s still a chance.” Her eyebrow shoots up sharply at the word “honest” and I immediately kick myself for the word choice.
“I just don’t get why you lied.” Her voice falters. “I had such an amazing time with you. I also thought there could be something real, something more, once we got back to New York. But then to find out that our bond was built on a lie...” She pauses and shrugs helplessly. “How can I start a relationship on a foundation of deceit?”
“I wasn’t trying to lie. It wasn’t some big awful plan—”
“And then when you were caught in the lie, you basically called me a gold digger!” She cuts in before I can go on.
“I definitely don’t think you’re a gold digger,” I hurriedly assure her. “I’m sorry if I gave that impression. But you have to understand that relationships aren’t easy for people like me. I’ve seen other girls sort of change after they realized I had money. Like they try to become this perfect version of a woman they think I want. And I didn’t want that to happen with you. I should have known better—I should have known that you’re not that kind of woman. I just freaked out. I didn’t want my money to influence your opinion of me in any way, for better or for worse. I wanted you to want me, for me. You thought I was a construction worker and you went out with me anyway. I didn’t want money to be an issue...” I conclude.
“But it is an issue,” she retorts, putting down an empty oyster shell with a clatter and taking a sip of her wine. “You are the one making it an issue.”
I pause in surprise. “I am?”
“Look at this!” She waves her hands around the restaurant—at the candles, at the pile of oysters—and at me. “Are you now trying to rely on your money to catch my attention again? You already bought Laura’s trust back, upgrading her to some fancy first class flight tickets and a honeymoon suite!”
“Cara!” I cut in before she can go any further, feeling hurt and shocked. “That’s not what that was! I wasn’t trying to buy your sister’s approval. I was genuinely sorry for stressing her out on her wedding day. It seemed like the right thing to do. I was just trying to give them a wonderful honeymoon—not buy my way into Laura’s affections.”
“Well, it certainly worked out that way! Now she’s vouching for you. And so are all my girlfriends. And I’m just the fool who couldn’t see you for what you really were all along, with nobody on my side.” Her voice is rising slightly and getting a throaty sound to it. She looks away from me but not soon enough—I see a single tear run down on her cheek before she hurriedly shakes her head and brushes it away. The sight of her like this is killing me.
“Cara, please,” I stand up and step around the table towards her. She’s staring down at the ground, insistently refusing to look up and make eye contact with me. I kneel down in front of her so I can look up into her face from below, placing a hand gently on her knee, urging her not to look away. “Cara, nobody thinks you’re a fool. I certainly don’t. You’re strong and sexy and sassy and self-sufficient and smart as hell—those are some of the things that make you so amazing. It’s part of what attracted me to you from the beginning. And…” I take a deep breath. “It’s part of the reason I’m so fucking head over heels in love with you now.” The word slips out without my thinking about it and for a moment, even I’m surprised. But then I realize that it’s the truth. And doesn’t she deserve to know the full truth, after what I’ve put her through?
She stares down at me, her eyes widening, a single tear still streaked down her cheek. “What did you say?”
“I said I love you.” I look up at her and shrug, feeling helpless under her steely blue gaze. “I didn’t plan this, Cara. I didn’t see you walking into my life. But the more I think about it, the more I’m wondering…if maybe it was fate. Remember the conversation we had on the boat?”
She nods, silently.
“I told you how I’d seen you at Edgar’s for the first time—and was then totally shocked to find you again in Boston. I mean, what are the odds of that alone happening? And then to find out about Jared and Laura… I mean. Like I said. I’m normally not the kind of guy to buy into that stuff but in this case, maybe it is fate that led me to you—to a woman who I can
finally, truly love.”
“Do you mean that?” Her tone is demanding and her face is fierce, but I can see her bottom lip slightly trembling.
“Yes, Cara. I mean it. I love you.” Her blue eyes blink rapidly, once, twice, and a thin mist of tears builds up in them. And then without a word, she leans down and kisses me, sweet and soft.
“Get up off the floor,” she says softly. She won’t make eye contact with me and she won’t say the words—pride is holding her back—but I can see it in her eyes. Cara Conley fucking loves me. I sit down again opposite her, feeling a smile spread across from my face. “Now help me with these oysters,” she says, finally cracking a small shy smile. “You haven’t eaten a bite.”
“I was too busy groveling,” I say with a grin, digging in.
“It was warranted,” she replies with a sidelong glance. “And I just want to be clear. I’m agreeing to date you. And to see where this goes. That’s all. For now.”
“For now.” I give her a wink.
“But you need to cool it with this kind of stuff,” she gestures around the restaurant. “Private dining and helicopters and expensive bouquets of flowers.”
“Anything you say,” I tell her. “It’s just that…” I pause. “Well, I had planned one more thing for after dinner—I mean, in case you would agree to hear me out.”
She rolls her eyes but she’s smiling. “What now?”
“Well, my boat is at the marina here, just a five-minute walk away. I thought we could go there for some private time after this.”
She laughs aloud. “How did you manage that? Have your assistant charter it over?”
“No, I did that myself,” I reply with a smile. “Why did you think I was just sending flowers and stuff to your office? I was bringing the boat back to New York—otherwise I would’ve been pounding on your door long before now.”
“It’s only been 48 hours,” she points out practically.
