No problem.
A glitch appeared in her bubble of calmness when a client called in a panic. The woman had finally gotten a look at the stone the builder had installed around the outdoor fireplace, and she was convinced that it wasn’t the stone Mr. Jennings had described. Jane made a note and set it in front of Mr. Jennings, who was deeply absorbed in a conversation about old beech wood.
When she walked back into the reception area, Greg Nunn had appeared like an inexplicable ghost. He stood in front of her desk, hands in his pockets, smiling with all the confidence in the world. Alarm rang through her. Surely he hadn’t come to deliver good news.
“I’ve got good news, Jane,” he said.
Well. She glanced toward Mr. Jennings’s office to make sure he was still on the phone. “What’s going on, Greg?”
“You asked me to take another look at the case.”
“Yes.”
“I decided to do it. For your sake.”
“Oh, well…Thanks.”
He walked farther into the office, stopping to lean against the wall only two feet from her. “I’m sure you’ll be very pleased to hear I’ve recommended that we turn our focus elsewhere.”
“Oh. Really?” Jane made herself smile despite the fact that she’d already heard this, and she didn’t believe for a second that the suggestion had come from Greg Nunn. “That’s great.”
“So how are you going to thank me?”
She watched the shameless smirk twist his lips and could hardly believe she’d ever liked this guy. Chase had been right. Greg was a jackass.
“Why don’t we go out for drinks tonight and toast your good luck?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“You should wear that red lingerie I like so much.”
“Greg, we’re not dating anymore, so I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He winked. “I’m talking about you making sure the heat stays off your brother.”
Jane stepped back in an effort to avoid shoving him away. “Get out of here, Greg.”
Greg stepped closer. “You don’t get to brush me off, Jane. You don’t get to look outraged. Your whole life is a goddamn lie.” He was close to shouting now and Jane looked frantically over her shoulder.
“Get out of here,” she whispered furiously.
“What, you don’t want your precious Mr. Jennings to know about your past?”
His face was pure ugliness now. She should have expected it. On the rare occasions he’d lost a case, his fury would show itself like that. Fury. Disbelief. Petulance at having been bested in public.
He could be petty, and she didn’t want his pettiness anywhere near Jessie.
Jane took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Greg. Thank you for helping. I mean it. But I can’t meet you for drinks.”
“Can’t is a strong word, and one you’d better reconsider. I’ll let you think about it for a few days…Dynasty.”
It didn’t quite register for a moment. She’d heard that name too many times over the past week.
Dynasty.
No. Oh, no. He knew. That little rat knew. He’d snooped around her past, and oh, my God…
“Yes,” she rasped. “I changed my name. It wasn’t dignified. I hated it. So I’d appreciate it if you’d—”
“Have you ever looked up old classmates online?” he purred.
“What?” Again there was a sweet, welcome moment of blankness over his implication. And then the blast of it hit her.
“The social networking sites make it so easy. Type in the name of a high school. Type in a year. Pages and pages of names pop up. And boy, do people love old gossip.”
The air inside her lungs was rushing to get out. Fighting. Struggling. No matter how hard she gasped, she couldn’t seem to move enough air.
He was going to tell. He would tell his friends, her friends. He would tell Quinn Jennings. Your precious Mr. Jennings, he’d threatened.
Greg would tell Mr. Jennings that Jane Morgan was a lie. He’d reveal that she was really Dynasty Alexis MacKenzie. That she’d taken a new name with the sole purpose of covering up her past. That her father and her stepfather were both convicted felons. That her brother was a thief. He’d probably even bring up Jane’s two citations for underage drinking. And he’d definitely tell him what kind of woman she really was.
Quinn Jennings would feel betrayed. He’d feel lied to. He wouldn’t trust her. She’d no longer be Jane, the perfectionist office manager and partner. She’d be that girl from a family of criminals who was probably embezzling money from the business. That girl who drank and slept around. And what if the police report from Denver turned up?
Lori wouldn’t want Jane in the office, wouldn’t want her so close to Mr. Jennings every day.
Jane finally managed to draw a deep breath into her lungs. Some oxygen leaked into her tumbling brain and calmed her down a little.
Okay, maybe she was overreacting.
She took another deep breath.
Probably she was overreacting. Even if Greg found out the very worst things she’d done…would Quinn Jennings hate her? Or was it just fear telling her that?
“You don’t get to end it with me, Jane. I’ll pick you up tomorrow after work,” Greg said. His mouth smirked, but his eyes were cool and grim. “Wear something I’ll like.”
Her mouth was still parted in shock when he turned and opened the door. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t move.
“Oh,” Greg said, pausing for a moment, “that guy you’ve been hanging out with? William Chase? I don’t ever want to see you with him again. I don’t want to see you with anyone until I say it’s over.”
He tried to slam the door when he walked out, but the pressurized hinge kept the landing soft. What an utterly civilized, polite evisceration.
Lowering herself into her seat, Jane closed her eyes.
What was she going to do? She’d hidden her past for so long that she couldn’t imagine people knowing about it. Now she realized just how much trust she had in Chase. She didn’t like him knowing—not at all—but she’d never truly feared he would expose her to the world.
But Greg? She’d made him feel stupid. First by breaking up with him, then by revealing that she’d lied about who she was. She’d hurt him and used him and he was angry.
It seemed as if the whole world were conspiring to reveal her for who she was. Even her own body was pushing her back toward the past.
She stared at the door. The clock on the far side of the office ticked loudly, the second hand counting down to disaster. What the hell was she going to do?
Just as the question threatened to overwhelm her, an Outlook window popped up on her computer with a little ding. The meeting with the accountant. It was time for her to head over.
She gaped at the computer. Going to this meeting seemed an impossible task in her current mind-set. And yet, as she stared at the familiar shape of the Outlook alert, her frantic pulse slowed. This was something she could do. She could meet with the accountant for Jennings Architecture. She could do her job. Calm down. Think.
Jane had a big decision to make. Would she continue to run from her past? Or would she turn around and face it?
She had no idea. So in that moment she made an easier decision. She gathered her papers, picked up her purse and headed to see the accountant. Her past would still be there when she returned.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE PLEA DEAL WAS ARRANGED. In two days Jessie would plead guilty to ten misdemeanor charges of theft. He’d do nine months in County. He wasn’t going to prison.
And in her family this meant they were having a party.
“Seriously,” Jane muttered to her mother. “This is ridiculous.” Her shoulders burned with tension. The deal wouldn’t be final for two days, and Greg was acting like a wounded bear. He was going to show up at her office the next evening, demanding a date and rabbit sex, and she was going to turn him down. What would that mean for Jessie?
Jane rounded on h
er mother. “He’s going to jail, Mom. It’s not something to celebrate.”
“You know how close he came to something far worse. We are celebrating, Jane, and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”
Jane glanced over to where her stepdad was carefully coaxing the briquettes to a perfect glow in his grill. He didn’t look happy, but there was a less rigid line to his shoulders. He was relieved. He’d even allowed Jessie to set foot on the property, but only for this special occasion. After he’d served his time, Jessie would have to find his own place to live. Mac would never let him live in his house again.
But for tonight, the men of her family had called a truce. And Jane felt like a traitor in their midst. Did she really have the right to put her nonexistent virtue above Jessie’s future? She’d spent years having sex with men she barely knew. Why was it so hard to consider sex with Greg?
Her gut burned. She wanted to get out of here. At least it wasn’t crowded. Who did one invite to an “our son is going to jail instead of prison!” party, after all? Grandma Olive was there, of course. And Arlo. And that girl named Eve who was apparently a girlfriend of Jessie’s. But his best friends weren’t there, because Mac wouldn’t allow it.
This was her whole family. How could she let them down? She could either sleep with Greg one last time—just enough time to finalize the plea deal—or…
She looked down at the bright green shoots of spring grass poking through the brown mat of dead leaves. Maybe Greg wasn’t as smart as he thought he was. Maybe she could turn this around.
For the first time all day her heart beat hard with an emotion that wasn’t fear. She couldn’t stop Greg from ruining her reputation, but she could stop him from ruining her family.
Raising her chin, she looked up to see Mac taking a long swig from his bottle. When she walked closer, the glow of the fire pressed against her skin. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. I’m gonna break down and buy a new grill one of these days.” He’d been saying the same thing for eight years.
“You’re not mad at Mom?”
He shrugged. “She meant well.”
“Regardless, you can still be mad at her.”
He shot her a measuring look. “Yeah, I know that. I’m plenty mad. But she does her best. She’s a good woman.”
This was uncomfortably close to a conversation they’d had years before, and Jane’s neck tightened with remembered tension. She’s a good woman. She might not have been the perfect mother, but she did her best.
Her best.
Across the yard Jane’s mom pulled Jessie into her arms and held him tightly. When Jane had been little, her mom had held her like that, too. Then Jane had discovered anger and bitterness and rage, and a good portion of that had been directed at her mom. And after the bitterness and rage had gone, there’d been guilt.
Somehow Jane had never been able to bridge the gap she’d created. “I know she’s a good woman,” she murmured. “It’s just hard for me.”
“I know.”
She’d never understood how Mac could comfort her with so few words. He was a simple man, yet he’d always understood her most complicated feelings.
“You want a beer?” he asked, divining her deepest need once again.
“Heck, yes,” she said with a sigh.
He reached into the cooler, twisted off the top and pressed the icy wet bottle into her hand. Mac to the rescue once again.
“Thank you,” she breathed.
Before she’d gulped a quarter of the bottle, she heard the sound of a door slamming above the Eagles music blaring from the kitchen window. When the two new party guests walked around the side of the house, Jane was darn glad she had a beer.
“What is he doing here?” she gasped.
Her mom shouted a hello from the far side of the yard. “Oh, the Chases are here. I’m so glad you could make it. Thank you so much for everything you did for Jessie.”
Chase made the rounds, shaking hands, introducing everyone to his dad.
He looked right at home as he strolled past the skeletons of dead bikes lined up along the shop wall. Totally comfortable as he shook hands with Mac.
When his father stopped to grab a beer and stand over the grill with Mac, Chase continued the last few feet toward Jane. “Hello, Miss Jane.”
“Did my mom invite you?”
“Yep.”
“I’m sorry. This party is kind of…inappropriate.”
Chase opened his mouth as if he’d say something, then glanced toward Jessie and seemed to change his mind. “Your mom is relieved, and she should be. Your brother has the chance to turn his life around.”
Jane shook her head. “I don’t know. He’s a convicted thief now. I worry that…My stepfather was wrongly convicted. The state never acknowledged it, but the evidence is clear. He didn’t do it. But Jessie did. He’s a criminal. A thief. I’ve never known any thieves who went on to good futures, have you?”
“I…” Chase’s head cocked as he frowned down at her. “I’m sure…”
Jane waved her hand. “Don’t worry about it. It could’ve been so much worse. Thank you for bringing your father in to help us.”
He took a deep breath. “Dad was happy to do it, and it was good for him.”
They both watched as his dad twisted open a second beer. He’d made quick work of the first. Jane winced. “Maybe he could work for Ms. Holloway as an investigator.”
“Maybe,” he said, then shook his head. “He doesn’t have a driver’s license, and he can’t do that kind of work without one. Anyway, it would get boring after a while, and then…You know what? I’ve come to realize that I can’t fix him, so I try not to think about it.”
“How did you manage that? Getting over his drinking?”
“I don’t know if I’m over it. I guess I…A few years ago I was in a long-term relationship. She needed to move to Utah and I let her go, because I was afraid to leave my dad. I’d taken care of him from the time I was nine, and I couldn’t leave.”
Jane just nodded. She had no idea what to say. It felt strange to imagine Chase in love with some unknown woman. Holding hands and watching movies and taking her out for explosion dates. It felt more than strange. It felt awful.
“Frankly, I was kind of a mess last year. I was so worried about my dad that I couldn’t sleep. I felt guilty when I didn’t see him, but when I did he’d ask me to bring beer. Then my stomach would hurt at the thought that I was helping him kill himself. I went to a few Al-Anon meetings, and things have gotten clearer. Now I see him, but I won’t bring beer. I don’t feel great about it, but I feel better.”
“But how do you…? Aren’t you mad at him? How do you get over the anger?”
“I haven’t gotten over it. Sometimes it sneaks up on me and I just want to shake him, yell and scream. I used to have a real dad, you know?”
Jane took a sip from her beer so she wouldn’t cry.
“But now this is the dad I have, and I can either accept it or kill myself fighting it.”
She nodded again.
“You must’ve had a lot of anger toward your mom.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“So how did you get past it?”
Jane looked at him as if he was crazy. Couldn’t he see the truth about her? “I didn’t. I never have. Every single day I think about what my life would’ve been like if I hadn’t been raised within spitting distance of razor wire. What it would’ve been like to be normal, not the girl who got dressed up once a month to visit scary strangers in scary places. To have had a real father instead of a pen pal. I think about what kind of choices I would’ve made and…”
She swallowed hard. “I was mad at her for so long, but it’s past time to let it go. And I just keep thinking once I have everything I want, it’ll be easier to reconnect with her.”
“Will it?”
“Probably not. I keep pushing her further away.”
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and the touch swept over her
like sunshine. “Is that what you want? To push her away?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” She honestly had no idea anymore. Run away or get closer? She’d didn’t know.
“You were right,” Chase said. “You are a mess.” That startled a laugh out of her, and Jane was grateful for that. He did that often, she realized. Made her laugh when she was close to crying.
“Say there, boy!” a voice wobbled from across the lawn. They both turned to see Olive looking right at Chase.
He raised his hand in greeting. “Hey, Grandma Olive!”
“Get me a beer and come over here.”
“Oh, shit,” he breathed. “Wish me luck.”
Grinning, Jane watched Chase jog over to get a beer before he headed for Olive.
“Where’s my beer?” the old woman yelled before he’d made it halfway across the big yard.
“It’s right here,” he answered, holding up the bottle.
“Then where’s your beer?”
Jane followed casually behind him, eavesdropping, and heard him say “I don’t drink.”
Grandma Olive’s eyes snapped to narrow slits. “What kind of man doesn’t drink beer?”
Chase shrugged.
“You a mean drunk? Can’t hold your liquor?”
“No, ma’am. I just don’t drink.”
“Pansy?” she snapped.
“Um, no.”
“Hmph.” She snatched the beer from his hand and eyed him up and down. “Well, I suppose, considering the size of those hands, a woman can forgive a few flaws.”
Jane jumped in before Olive could explain her theory about the relationship between the size of a man’s hands and his “private pieces.” “There’s nothing wrong with not drinking, Grandma Olive.”
“Thins the blood,” she replied, as if thin blood were the epitome of good health.
“No wonder you almost bled out from that cut the other day,” Jane muttered.
“Never been sick a day in my life.”
Jane rolled her eyes. “You were in the hospital with pneumonia last year.”
“Hmph,” Olive grunted in disgust. “That was asbestos poisoning from that dust I inhaled when they remodeled the supermarket.”
Lead Me On Page 20
