by Tina Folsom
“Tara, I’m really sorry. I totally screwed up. About the interview…”
“Oh no,” she muttered. Her heart sank. “They’re not even giving me an interview?”
“No, no, it’s not that. They are.”
“They are?”
“Yes, but I’m really sorry. They sent me the email and it landed in my spam folder and I only just saw it now.”
“Yeah, but you saw it. So I got the interview! When is it?” She wanted to jump up and down.
“Today.”
“Today? Crap!”
“Sorry. It’s at three this afternoon. Are you still in the Hamptons?”
She nodded to herself. “All the way in Montauk.”
“Can you jump on the next Jitney? I think there’s one leaving in half an hour. It should get you into Midtown by two thirty, and if you get into a taxi right away, you could just make it.”
“I’ll be there. Can you forward me the email with the address?”
“Done. Sorry, again.”
“Thanks Paul, gotta run.”
The next ten minutes passed in a blur. She’d never gotten ready in such a hurry. Her heart was pounding as she ran to the shore and through the path to the street where a taxi was waiting for her. Luckily she’d been able to order one with an app on her cell phone. The cab took her to the Jitney stop in Montauk. The coach was already closing its doors, when she jumped out of the taxi and ran toward it, waving her arms to get the driver to re-open the doors.
She gave a sigh of relief when he saw her and waited until she’d gotten on and taken a seat in the nearly empty coach.
Tara looked down at herself. This wasn’t exactly how she dressed for an interview either, but she hadn’t had much of a choice. She was grateful that her hair dried by itself so that she hadn’t had to waste any time on it. She wore casual white slacks and a colorful long tunic that reached to mid-thigh. It would have to do. After all, the company built boats, and the way she was dressed, she looked like she belonged on a yacht.
For the entire three hour ride, she tried to calm herself down and practiced her answers to the usual interview questions in silence. She’d have to try to make up for her lack of experience with confidence in her own abilities. She could do this.
Tara stared out the tinted window. Soon, she’d be financially independent from her parents and could truly make her own decisions. What this would mean for her relationship with Jay, she didn’t know. Maybe she could spend the weekends with him on the boat; perhaps, once the summer was over, Jay could find a job in the city. Only time would tell if the feelings she was developing for him were real and lasting.
20
Jay picked up the receiver of the phone on his desk and dialed his assistant’s extension.
“Mr. Bohannon?” Karina answered promptly.
“Has the last applicant still not shown up?” he asked impatiently, glancing out the floor-to-ceiling windows of his fifty-seventh floor office.
“I’m afraid not, sir, Miss York is still not here,” she replied.
Jay grunted. He had the helicopter on stand-by and was eager to return to the Hamptons. He’d seen several passable applicants today and had already drawn up his shortlist.
“Well, if this Miss York can’t even keep an appointment, I guess she’s not the right person. I’ll be leaving in a few minutes, Karina.” He disconnected the call and looked back at the file still open on his computer monitor.
The portfolio of the woman Paul had recommended was indeed impressive. Her taste was impeccable, but so was that of all the other applicants he’d seen today. However, there was a simplicity to her designs that spoke to him on a deeper level. Elegant, yet understated. Most designers put too much into their designs to show that they had the skills for the job. Miss York’s work was different and fresh. He liked it. It was a shame she didn’t have the professionalism to show up on time. It disqualified her immediately.
He was about to close the file when he heard voices outside where his assistant greeted his visitors. His phone rang a moment later. He recognized Karina’s number and answered it.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Bohannon, but Miss York is here. Do you still want to see her?”
He hesitated and glanced back at the monitor, admiring the designs before him once more. He sighed. “Fine, send her in.” Sometimes one had to make an exception even to the strictest of rules.
A few seconds later, there was a knock at the door, followed by the sound of it swinging open.
“Miss York, you’re late,” he said, without looking up from his computer.
“Jay?”
Jay spun his head in her direction and jumped up at the same time. “Tara,” he choked out.
There was no doubt. Tara stood in his office, only a few yards away from him, seemingly paralyzed. Her eyes bored into him, and her mouth had dropped open. She shook her head as if trying to shake off a bad dream, and he was inclined to do the same.
“You are Mr. Bohannon? The owner of Hannon Boats?” Shock made her voice tremble.
His heart pounded. “I can explain.” Could he?
“How could you? How could you do this to me? After all the things I told you. You lied to me!”
He took a few steps toward her, but her hand came up as if she wanted to physically shove him away. He stopped, not wanting to scare her off. “You didn’t want a rich guy.”
“So you thought it was okay to lie to me to get what you wanted?”
“No, that’s not what it was like,” Jay started again, not really knowing how he could make her understand.
“You were playing me. Every single second you were playing a game with me.”
“It wasn’t a game.” It had been real. More real than any other relationship he’d ever had.
“You pretended to be some ordinary guy just to get into my pants.” She spat the words, disgust evident in them. As if she regretted every single second they’d been together.
“That’s not true. You mistook me for a waiter. I wanted to explain, but then I—”
“Then what? You figured you’d play along so you could tell your friends later how you got Tara Pierpont to slum it with a waiter?”
“No, Tara. I wanted to get to know you. Without the trappings of wealth.” So he could find out if she would be interested in him as a person, rather than in his money.
“You and Zach must have had a good laugh. You’re friends with him, aren’t you? And it’s not his boat, is it? It’s yours. What were you whispering behind my back? How easy I was? What was it? A bet? Did you win?”
“Damn it, Tara! It wasn’t like that. There was no bet. It was all a misunderstanding that got out of hand.”
“Yeah, right! It did get out of hand. What was your plan, Jay? Pick me up at the party and then tell your friends afterward how easy it was to seduce me?”
Jay clenched his jaw. “I didn’t seduce you! If you remember, you picked me up at the party. And you were also the one who came back the next morning. Damn it, Tara, you initiated sex.”
She pressed her lips together, her cheeks flushing now, whether of embarrassment or fury, or both, he didn’t know. “How dare you? You went down on me in the shower!”
“Because you left the fucking door open after I’d warned you!”
“And that gave you permission?”
“No, you gave me permission. The way you looked at me. I did nothing against your will! And I stopped the moment you said no.” He would never force himself on any woman. And he’d most certainly not forced himself on Tara. She’d been a willing participant.
“If I’d known who you were, I would have never let you touch me! I wish I’d never laid eyes on you.”
Jay narrowed his eyes. “What are you saying?”
“You know what I’m saying. You want me to say it out loud?”
He took a step toward her, only a few feet separating them now. “Go ahead.”
“I wish I’d never slept with you. I wish I’d never let you
touch me. You’re everything I despise about rich men. You proved to me that you’re just like all the others. You think you can take whatever you want just because you’re rich and powerful. Guess what: it doesn’t work with me.”
The words cut right through his heart. “You don’t know me at all, do you? The week we spent together hasn’t shown you that I’m nothing like those guys? Tara, wake up, the person you were with the last few days was the real Jay.” He waved his hand around his office, indicating his worldly possessions. “This, all this, is just the outside, the shell. It’s not me. We had something, Tara. Something good. You can’t just throw that away. You felt something in my arms. I know it.”
Tara shook her head. “I felt nothing.”
He grabbed her shoulders, wanting to shake her. “We’re good together. You can’t just dismiss it because you now know that I have money. It doesn’t change who I am.”
She shook off his hands and stepped back. “It changes everything.”
“You don’t believe that yourself. You wanted me!”
Her head went from left to right, slowly, deliberately. “No, I didn’t want you. I wanted to slum it with a waiter. And now that I know you’re not what I thought you were, I’ve lost interest.”
She turned on her heel.
Jay snatched her elbow. She spun her head around and pinned him with a furious glare. “Take your hand off me. You’re never going to touch me again.”
As if burned, he let go of her. Paralyzed, he watched her exit his office and slam the door shut behind her.
“Fuck!”
He shoved a shaky hand through his hair. What had just happened? They’d screamed at each other. Damn it, this was not how he’d envisioned a revelation like this to go down. And, hell, he hadn’t once told her he was sorry about the deception. Not once. Instead, he’d let the argument escalate.
He hadn’t handled this well at all. Tara regretted their time together. That knowledge clamped around his heart like a vice, making pain radiate through his entire body.
Shit, he’d screwed up. It had all backfired. His whole brilliant plan had blown up right in his face, and there was no way of salvaging anything.
Tara hated him.
21
One week later
Paul’s wedding to Holly was a small family affair. After the scandal that had rocked the Hamptons only two weeks earlier, Paul and Holly had decided to keep it private. Not because they were ashamed of what had happened, but because they wanted no intrusion on their happiness.
Less than forty guests were assembled in the tiny restaurant Paul had rented for the occasion: mostly close family and a few friends. All the members of the Eternal Bachelors Club, from which Paul had been officially kicked out, were in attendance.
Jay was sitting at the same table as Xavier, Michael, and Wade. He hadn’t seen his three friends since the night of the Gilberts’ party, and even then he hadn’t had much time to catch up with them. The party had ended too abruptly.
“What’s with the stubble, Wade?” Xavier asked, jabbing Wade in the side, grinning. “You finally had enough of the goatee?”
Wade grunted good-naturedly. “At least I can grow facial hair.” He gave Xavier, whose face was as smooth as a baby’s bottom, a pointed look.
“You call that facial hair?” Michael chimed in. “I call that a failed attempt at looking rugged.”
“You don’t think it looks rugged?” Wade pointed to his face. “It looks positively badass.”
Michael laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. “The stubble look is currently out of fashion. Apparently the ladies don’t like getting a skin rash from kissing these days.”
“Not that you would know that,” Xavier added, addressing Wade. “Since clearly you haven’t gotten any action in a while.”
“Says who?” Wade protested. “Just because I don’t kiss and tell doesn’t mean I don’t kiss.”
Xavier and Michael exchanged a whatever-you-say look.
“And the stubble look is in. You’re just envious that you guys can’t carry it off, right Jay?”
Jay nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah, sure.”
“Besides, I don’t wanna be too handsome and get snatched up by some marriage-crazy woman.” Wade grinned.
“You should be so lucky,” Xavier teased and chuckled.
“Meaning what?”
Xavier motioned to Paul who was whispering something into Holly’s ear, making her smile.
“Look at Paul. He didn’t think it would happen to him either. And look at him now. And in a few months he’ll be a father. Way to flunk out of the club!”
Jay smiled wistfully. The way it looked right now, he was going to be the last member of the Eternal Bachelors Club and collect the sizeable bounty that was sitting in the club’s coffers. As if he needed any more money.
He rose from the table and walked to the bar.
“Bourbon, please,” he told the bartender and looked back at Paul and Holly.
Paul’s parents sat to one side of them, Daniel and Sabrina to the other. Even Paul’s mother seemed to have come around and accepted Holly, particularly now that she was carrying her grandchild. In the end, all that mattered was love, not what other people thought.
“Your bourbon, sir.”
“Thank you.”
Jay brought the glass to his lips and took a sip. He enjoyed the burning sensation as the liquid ran down his throat. It was numbing his senses for a moment. Still, he couldn’t look at Paul and Holly any longer. Seeing other people happy right now made him even more aware of what he’d lost with Tara.
He’d tried everything to get her to be reasonable: voice messages, text messages, emails. She’d responded to none of his attempts to make it up to her. He’d said sorry in so many different ways, but Tara had ignored him.
“Hey, who pissed in your drink?” Zach asked, slapping him on the shoulder and leaning against the bar.
“Who says anybody pissed in my drink?”
“Your sour face is kind of a dead giveaway.”
Jay shrugged. “We all have our off days.”
Zach lifted an eyebrow. “Okay.” Then he motioned to the bartender. “A glass of champagne, please.”
While the bartender poured a glass, Zach turned back to Jay. “How are things going with Tara?”
“They’re not.”
“Ahh, I see, hence the bad mood.”
“I’m not in a bad mood.”
“Could have fooled me.” Zach accepted the glass of champagne and took a sip. “What happened? Did dating a waiter finally lose its luster?”
Jay growled and kicked back the last of his bourbon, before slamming the glass onto the bar. A few heads turned in his direction. “You know what? Why don’t you stay out of my business and go play with the others?”
“That bad, huh?” Zach clicked his tongue. “Never thought the Ice Maiden could get under a man’s skin like that.”
“Don’t call her that! She’s not cold! She’s…” He stopped himself. Tara was hot blooded, passionate, wild. Not only their sexual encounters had taught him that, but also their fiery argument. Make-up sex would be scorching, but unfortunately, it didn’t look like there would be any make-up sex. Not until hell froze over.
“She’s what?” Zach probed. “Driving you mad? Yeah, some women have that effect on men. So what did she do? Dump you, because the novelty of sleeping with Joe Ordinary was wearing off?”
“I’d advise you to shut up. It’s nothing like that.”
“What then?”
“You can’t let it rest, can you?”
“Apparently you can’t either, or you wouldn’t be moping around like this.”
“Who’s moping around?” Paul suddenly asked from beside them.
Jay turned to the groom. “Nobody.”
“Jay is,” Zach said simultaneously.
Paul’s gaze ping-ponged between Jay and Zach. “I’m inclined to believe Zach. Is something wrong? Are you still pissed about yo
ur designer getting poached? Man, you really take things too seriously sometimes. Didn’t you like any of the applicants?”
Jay tilted his head. “Oh, yeah. About that.” He paused for an instant. “Why the fuck did you not tell me that Jane York was Tara Pierpont?”
Paul shrugged. “I didn’t want you to be influenced in your decision. Besides, she wanted to remain anonymous.”
“Huh?” Zach threw in.
Jay ignored him. “I would have never given her an interview if I’d known it was her.”
“Why not? Didn’t you see her portfolio? She’s actually good!”
“Hey, would somebody fill me in here?” Zach asked.
“I recommended Tara Pierpont for a job at Jay’s company,” Paul offered.
“Ah, now I get it. That’s how she found out. And then she got pissed at you,” Zach said, looking at Jay.
Before Jay could reply, Paul asked, “Found out what?”
“That our friend Jay here isn’t the poor waiter she was sleeping with.”
“Poor waiter?” Paul stared at Jay in disbelief. “Why would she think that you’re a poor waiter?”
Jay raised his hands. “Why don’t I let you two sort this out, since you’re both obviously so interested in my private business?”
Paul’s hand on his forearm stopped him from stepping away. “Not so fast, my friend. What did you do to Tara?”
Jay went toe-to-toe with Paul. “Nothing! I did nothing to her. She mistook me for a waiter at your parents’ damn party, and I played along.” He stabbed Paul in the chest with his index finger. “And then you have to destroy it all by helping her figure out who I am. Thanks a lot!”
Deep ridges formed on Paul’s forehead. “What do you blame me for? Why didn’t she know who you were anyway? What were you playing at?”
Zach jerked his thumb toward Jay. “Lover boy here thought he could win Tara’s heart by pretending to be poor and ordinary.”
“That’s just sick,” Wade chimed in from the sidelines.
Jay huffed. “Well, that’s just great. Why don’t we air my dirty laundry in public so that everybody can voice their opinion on what a jerk I am?”
