"One seashell purse. Two coral earrings. And one cellular telephone." She pulled the last item from the box and placed it on the table next to the others.
Shawna, now dressed in my yellow sweatshirt with her glittering mermaid skirt underneath, scooped everything into her arms with a scowl and turned to me. "Please, let's get out of here."
I handed all the signed paperwork back to the bailiff and led her through the front door and into a waiting cab.
We made a quick stop at the Palazzo so that Shawna could pack up the rest of her stuff, and she was very grateful to be able to change out of her costume. I had picked up a pair of jeans and an overpriced T-shirt at the Palazzo shops earlier that morning.
As we made our way to the airport to catch an eleven o'clock flight back to L.A., I promised Shawna that I'd talk to some lawyers first thing in the morning to see about sorting out all the details of her arrest so she wouldn't have to come back for a court hearing. Then I told her to take the week off and get some rest, but she insisted that getting back to her usual routine as soon as possible would be the only way to keep her sane.
Jamie had called my cell phone around eight-thirty that morning to tell me that he was going standby on an earlier flight back to L.A. and that I should text him my flight information so he could pick me up at the airport when I arrived.
Once I got on the plane, I spent the first half of the flight home convincing myself that telling Jamie the truth about what happened the previous night (or, more accurately, earlier that morning) was the best course of action, and I spent the second half of the flight convincing myself that he would forgive me.
But the moment I saw his face as he stepped out of the car to greet me at the curb, every convincing word that I had spoken silently to myself at an altitude of thirty-five thousand feet instantly vanished into a black hole in the back of my mind.
His eyes were so trusting. His smile was so genuine. His face was so happy to see me. There was just no way that honesty was the best policy here.
It would only hurt him.
And that was something I could not convince myself to do.
Besides, there was no way I was ever going to do it again. So there was really no point in telling him about it. Exigent circumstances. That's all it was. I was dealing with a crisis. Extinguishing the flames of an unforeseen fire. I was doing what the president of any successful company would do. And the bigger deal I made about it, the bigger deal it would become.
So I lied.
"Everything okay now?" Jamie asked as he pulled me into a tight embrace.
I nodded into his warm chest. "Yes. Shawna's fine. A little shaken up, but she'll be okay."
He gave me a quick kiss and a squeeze and then opened the passenger-side door for me. I collapsed into the seat with a heavy sigh.
"So what happened after you got there?"
I shrugged, somehow feeling as though this casual gesture might possibly relieve some of the guilt. It didn't work.
"Not much," I replied. "I mean, I went to the jail, I was too late to bail her out, so I just talked to her for a while. When the guard kicked me out, I booked a room at the Palazzo and fell asleep." I nestled the back of my head against the soft leather of the passenger seat and closed my eyes. Although I admit, it was more out of not wanting to look Jamie in the eye than pure fatigue.
"And so what ended up happening with the second assignment?"
My eyes suddenly flew open and my pulse started to rise. He knew. He had to know. Why else would he ask that?
"What second assignment?" I asked warily, trying to gauge exactly how much he knew and what he was referring to. It's a common mistake when telling a lie—giving yourself away by assuming the other person actually knows more than he does. Amateurs end up falling for that trap all the time. Fortunately, I was no amateur when it came to creating complicated webs of deceit. Something I was not proud of. Especially not at this moment.
"You mentioned before you left that Shawna was double-booked last night. So I was just wondering what happened with the second one after she got arrested."
I was relieved to find absolutely no trace of blame or accusation in his voice. Jamie's response was casual and informally inquisitive. Clearly just the genuine reply of a loving, caring, supportive boyfriend— sorry, fiancé—who was trying to make conversation and fully understand the nuances of his girlfriend's horrible midnight rescue mission.
Which of course made me feel even more wretched than I already did.
"Um," I started, closing my eyes again. "That was the second assignment, actually."
We cruised to a red light and Jamie smiled tenderly at me, reaching out to touch the side of my face. "You look tired, baby."
Feeling his hand on my skin made me want to cry.
He didn't doubt my story for a second.
He didn't even blink.
He trusts me blindly.
The rock that seemed to be growing in the pit of my stomach started to pulsate. I closed my eyes and willed it to stop. It's not cheating if you didn't enjoy it, I told myself, feeling rather resolved in my logic even if the pulsation refused to cease.
"I am," I finally said after a few moments of silence as Jamie continued to speed down Sepulveda Boulevard toward the freeway.
"Am what?"
I turned my head and looked out the window, watching the gray November sky follow us home. "Tired."
Jamie dropped me off at my place so that I could rest while he went home to unpack his bag, promising to come back later around dinnertime. Except I didn't rest. I didn't even try. I knew that it was a lost cause. As soon as I dumped my suitcase in the bedroom, I took a quick shower and changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a T-shirt that didn't have the Palazzo logo emblazoned on the front. Then I grabbed my keys and was back out the door in a matter of minutes.
I had to keep myself busy and my mind occupied. I feared idleness would be my worst enemy right now. So I drove around town, making up errands as I went. I definitely needed some more dental floss and toilet paper from the drugstore. And maybe an oversize bottle of Advil and some sunless tanning lotion. And oh, one of those master chopping mechanisms that I saw on TV. And I was sure I had at least something at the dry cleaner, even if the old Chinese man insisted that I picked everything up on Friday. I made him check again. Then I swung by Whole Foods and kind of just wandered the aisles for a good thirty minutes, picking up random items, examining the packaging thoroughly, and then throwing them into my basket regardless of whether or not I ever planned to consume them.
When I finally ran out of things to do around seven in the evening, I reluctantly headed back home, praying that something interesting would be on TV so that I could continue to distract myself from my thoughts until it was time to go to bed. At which point I had every intention of employing a prescription sleep aid.
I pulled my Lexus SUV into the garage and noticed that Jamie's Jaguar was already occupying the second parking spot. I fought hard to take a steady breath as I placed the car in park and killed the engine.
I didn't really want to face Jamie tonight. I wanted to be alone. But at the same time, I knew that not being around him would cause me pain. My mind felt as if it were being tugged in a hundred different directions.
But there was one thing I was sure of: I had to work past this. I had to learn how to swallow the guilt and keep it from regurgitating in my mouth in the form of a confession. Jamie was a big part of my life. The biggest. And he was going to be around. His car was going to be in that parking spot every day that I came home. I couldn't not get over this.
After a cursory glance in my rearview mirror and a disturbing shudder at my tired reflection, I clasped my house keys and stepped out of the car, promising myself that this would get easier. Eventually time would do its job and I would forget.
And then things would slowly return to normal.
All I had to do until that day came was pretend everything still was normal. That nothing had changed. Be
cause to Jamie, nothing had changed. I was still the same Jennifer Hunter he had fallen in love with and asked to marry.
So I would have to pretend to be her.
No matter what it took.
"Hey, where you been?" Jamie called from the kitchen, eyeing my armful of superfluous purchases.
I stumbled past the dining room and struggled to place everything on the counter. "Just running some errands for the week."
He reached into one of the shopping bags and pulled out a mysterious blue carton. "Hemp milk?" His face twisted in confusion. "What'd I miss?"
I shrugged, refusing to meet his questioning eyes. "Everyone says it's better than soy milk. And it supports the hemp farmers. It says so on the box."
"So," he said, placing his arms around my waist and pulling me close to him. "We have something to celebrate tonight."
"Hmm?" I mumbled, looking down at his shirt collar and fiddling with the edges. "What's that?"
He nodded toward the hallway that led into the bedroom. There were two suitcases and three small cardboard boxes sitting there. "Where'd those come from?"
He grinned. "I figured if I bring a few things over every day, I'll be fully moved in by the end of the week."
Oh, right, I thought. He's moving in. I wasn't sure how that could have slipped my mind. Actually, I could. But I was trying to forget about that.
"My Realtor thinks I can sell my place fully furnished, which means we won't have to figure out which furniture to keep."
I forced a smile. "That's great."
Jamie pulled me closer to him, and his arms tightened around me. Then his lips pressed hard against mine, and judging by the bulge quickly forming in the front of his pants, this wasn't going to be just a kiss. It suddenly hit me that this was how he was planning to "celebrate" the boxes and suitcases in the hallway.
I closed my eyes, trying to soak in even an ounce of his intensity. But unfortunately, my passion-o-meter seemed to be stuck at "cold fish."
Jamie, however, was oblivious to this fact. His hands were already digging into the sides of my waist, and before I knew it, my T-shirt was being whipped over my head and he was now kissing the tops of my breasts, moaning with a sound that resembled someone devouring an ice-cream sundae in the middle of a crash diet.
"We never got to finish what we started in Cabo," he cooed as he grasped the bottom of my shirt and pulled it over my head.
"Jamie," I protested, pushing gently at his shoulders. "I'm not sure if we should do this—"
"In here?" he interrupted. "You're right."
And suddenly, my feet were no longer on the floor. Jamie literally swept me off them and was now carrying me fireman style over his shoulder into the bedroom.
I yelped and clung desperately to his shirt. "Jamie! Oh, my God! Put me down!"
And he did. Right smack in the middle of the bed. Then he was on top of me. And his hands were everywhere. Except I couldn't feel them. I mean, I could feel them on me. But they weren't Jamie's hands.
They were Benjamin Connors's.
And the lips that were sweeping along my stomach, making their way down to my top of my jeans, weren't Jamie's, either.
My breathing started to quicken. Jamie interpreted it as a sign of arousal and moaned into my abdomen.
But the only moaning sounds I could hear were the ones still stuck in my head from last night. The ones that I thought I had effectively extinguished with pointless errands and internal monologues. But there they were, louder than ever. And they seemed to be echoing from all corners of the room. Like Benjamin Connors in stereo.
I heard a voice whisper, "You are so sexy." But for the life of me, I couldn't figure out whose voice it was. Was it Jamie's? Was he the one saying that? Or was it part of my Saturday night flashback, presented in Dolby Digital Surround Sound?
"I can't believe how sexy you are."
Who the fuck is saying that?!
Apparently, what happens in Vegas doesn't really stay there.
Jamie was unbuttoning my jeans and kissing the skin just below my waist. Beads of sweat were appearing across my forehead, and the room was starting to spin. Slowly at first and then much faster. Like a merry-go-round gone postal.
Someone stop the spinning! I want to get off!
And then I looked down at the top of Jamie's head, trying to focus my attention on the man I loved. Trying to regain control over the situation. But my vision continued to blur, and the cloudiness in my head continued to hover. And then finally, he stopped and looked up at me. Except I could no longer see his face.
The only face that appeared in front of me belonged to Benjamin Connors.
"Stop!" I screamed. "Make it stop!"
Frantically, I pushed Jamie off me and bounded from the bed, nearly kicking him in the face in the process. I stood helplessly in the middle of my bedroom in my bra and unbuttoned jeans, not knowing what to say or where to look. So I chose the floor.
I didn't know what I was doing. My body didn't feel like my own anymore, and my mind seemed a million miles away. As if it had completely abandoned me to fend for myself and I was failing miserably.
When I found the courage to look up at Jamie, I caught sight of his wide-eyed gaze and quickly looked away, feeling ashamed and embarrassed.
Who was this person? Certainly not me.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. Jamie was too stunned to say anything, and I was too freaked out. The merry-go-round in my bedroom eventually started to slow down, and I felt my heart rate return to normal.
"I'm sorry," I finally offered in a quiet, feeble voice.
Jamie wrinkled his forehead and ran his fingers through his hair. "Urn. What was that?" The tone in his voice was searching for patience, but when it came up short, it seemed to settle for slightly annoyed.
But I just stood there, my body shivering slightly, despite the fact that I was far from cold. "I don't know."
Jamie fell onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. "You don't know," he repeated numbly.
I shook my head and awkwardly ran the tip of my toe across the hardwood floor. "I'm sorry. I guess I just freaked out a little."
"Apparently."
Once the shaking had subsided and the feeling returned to all of my limbs and extremities, my mind was nagging me to find an excuse. To make something up. I couldn't just leave it at that. I had to make it better. I had to fix it.
"I'm just stressed," I attempted, feeling less than confident about my cover-up.
Jamie rolled onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow. "Stressed?"
Clearly he wasn't confident about it, either.
But I couldn't back out now. I was committed to the lie. So I nodded. "Yes. With work and Shawna's arrest and Katie out on that nanny assignment and Sophie's wedding in two weeks, and you know she's been calling me every fifteen minutes with drama and . . ." I let my voice fade away as I inhaled a deep breath.
Jamie studied my face, seemingly deciding whether or not he was going to believe me. I struggled to maintain eye contact with him. Any waver or shift would surely give me away.
"And that's it?" he asked, his voice full of doubt. "It's just stress? It has nothing to do with anything else? Like, say, my stuff in the hallway?"
I swallowed hard and shook my head. "No, of course not. It's just stress. I promise."
Jamie considered this for a moment. And then finally he pulled himself off the bed and went over to me. Cautiously, he placed his hand on my waist and kissed me on the forehead, his lips lingering on my skin for a good five seconds. As if he were trying to suck the truth right out of my brain.
I closed my eyes and prayed for finality. That we would never again have to speak of this moment.
When I opened them again, Jamie was already in the kitchen making dinner.
14
sentencing
By the time I got to work on Monday morning, the dark circles under my eyes were starting to resemble ominous caverns. I'd barely slept at all last night
. . . again. And the Ambien I had taken around two in the morning did little to remedy the situation. Apparently, it's only effective if your conscience is completely clear. Something that I firmly believe should be indicated on the label.
So it was safe to say I was in no frame of mind to deal with the appointment I had in fifteen minutes.
"Ashlyn?" Hadley's voice came through my intercom after a startling buzz. "Darcie Connors is here to see you."
Make that right now.
Damn it. She was early. Not that fifteen minutes would have made any sort of difference.
"Okay, send her in," I replied into the speaker. Then I stood up and pulled my suit jacket taut around my shoulders, as if this simple act might help pull the rest of me together as well.
With my eyes glued to the door and my fingers gripping the edge of my desk, I waited for the moment I had been dreading since I'd walked out of Benjamin Connors's hotel room less than thirty-six hours ago.
Breaking bad news to a client is never easy. In fact, it's always been one of the hardest parts of this job. But today it felt worse than I'd ever remembered. I don't know if it was because of the guilt that I would forever associate with this assignment or because I knew that in just a few seconds, I would have to tell this woman that her dreams of having the child she's always wanted with the man she's always wanted to have it with were now officially shattered.
There was just no easy way to do that.
The door creaked open and Hadley announced my visitor. Then she stepped aside, allowing Darcie Connors to enter.
"Hello," I said, still maintaining a death grip on the edge of my desk. "Mrs. Connors," I sang. "Lovely to see you again." I could hear the obvious falseness in my words, and I quickly attempted to cover it up with an even falser smile.
After stabilizing myself on the desk, I slowly made my way to her and held out my hand, which I prayed wasn't as cold and clammy as it felt. She shook it.
"Would you like to sit down?" I gestured to the sofa.
Darcie Connors took a seat, staying perched on the very edge of the couch, almost as if she were afraid to get too comfortable. I didn't blame her. Clearly, I was now living proof that you should never get too comfortable. Because something is always waiting around the corner to turn your life upside down.
The Good Girl's Guide to Bad Men Page 14
