“Wow.” Griff stared at her. “That’s quite something.”
“It could have been. Except that when I started to show him the five different types of rings that I’d designed for his store, he grabbed my bag and took off.”
“With the rings,” Griff said. “And what else?”
Claire squirmed. “Materials, including gold and diamonds. A few emeralds, that I’d bought for a special order wedding ring. A gorgeous amethyst that was meant to be a center-piece between two cut diamonds for an engagement ring.” She stopped, shook her head. “And my computer, of course.”
“What was on your computer?”
“Oh, mostly stuff that I have saved elsewhere. Order forms, customer correspondence, invoices. But it’s a major hassle, and I hate the idea of my customers’ private information being out there. I had to contact them all this morning and tell them what had happened.” She bit her lip. “But I also had this program that I’m getting designed… that’s gone now, though of course the guy I hired can send me everything again. I just didn’t want anyone to see it before it was ready.”
“What is it?” Griff asked. “The program?”
“A design-your-own ring type of thing,” she explained. “People can use the software to create a ring. They can choose stones, and the cuts, and the sizes. They can play with the spacing and the location of each stone, and they can choose the settings and the ring itself. Once they do all of that, they can place an order with me, and I’ll make the ring that they designed.”
“Huh. Sounds cool.”
“It is. It’s also a cheaper option than having me produce sketches and proposals, so people can still get the ring they want without the added costs. I just really want people to get their ring, you know?” She sighed. “The program isn’t close to being done, though, and the guy is also designing a website for me. The site will have the ‘make your own ring’ feature, a gallery of rings I’ve already done, and a link to my shop. But now that my materials are gone, I’m going to have to halt the program and site design, and use what cash reserves I have to buy new materials. Not that my reserves are nearly enough to replace what was taken.”
“So what will you do?” Griff said, genuinely concerned despite himself.
“Cole will front me the money,” she said quietly. “But it’s a major financial setback for me. Those materials were for rings that have already been ordered, so they have to be made and delivered. Buying everything twice… it’s a serious chunk of change. It’s – it’s going to hurt me.”
Griff was surprised that he didn’t have the urge to sneer at Claire as she talked about being short on money, or how tough it was to have financial hardship. And he didn’t have that urge because he actually believed her. He believed that she was devastated, financially and emotionally, by having to start all over again.
His sympathy confused him and made him angry at her. He stiffened his resolve, then resolved to get the hell back to work.
Get to her, man. Get into that pretty little head of hers now, while she’s being so open and unguarded.
“And what possessed you to think that carrying gold and diamonds and emeralds around the city was a great idea?” Griff asked, maybe a touch more severely than necessary. “And then deciding to go meet some random guy in the woods? I mean… isn’t that covered in ‘Shit Not To Do Ever 101’?”
Not even slightly intimidated by his tone, she glared at him. “You sound just like Cole. He kept nagging at me to leave everything in a safe at the bar where he works.”
Not at all happy with that comparison, but deciding to let it slide for now, Griff carried on. “Well, he ain’t wrong. Why didn’t you keep the materials in a safe place?”
“Because…” Her voice trailed off, and suddenly, she looked like she wanted to bolt right out of the restaurant, never to be seen again. “Because… I don’t really trust anyone but me. I mean, I used to trust people easily, but – but that was a big mistake. I just – I learned the hard way to not depend on people with really important things.” She started to look angry now, and her tone was hard as she added, “And those materials were the most important things in my life… no way I was letting them out of my sight, not even for ten seconds.”
Right away, Griff dialed it down a bit. No sense getting her back up or shutting her down – even if she had been breathtakingly dumb. Clearly, the woman wasn’t all that savvy about security, and seeing as she’d had a personal bodyguard for years, it wasn’t a major surprise. Still, though… there was naivety and then there was stupidity, and it really looked like Claire Worthington had wandered over the line. Smack into a trap that could have gotten her killed.
He focused on her bruised cheek now. It actually looked much better today, and the swelling around her eye had receded too. She was wearing a scarf around her neck, so no way to see the marks there, but at least she didn’t seem to be having any major trouble talking or eating.
“How you feeling today?” he asked abruptly. “Any pain?”
Surprised at the second lightning-quick change of topic in less than a minute, she gazed at him. “Uh, not really. A bit around my throat, but my face looks way worse than it actually feels, to be honest.”
“Did you take the sedatives that Mike gave you?”
“No. I was OK without them.” She managed a small smile. “Cole keeps an eye on me, so I feel pretty safe at the park.”
Thrilled to be given a segue-way into that topic, Griff pounced. “So… you and Cole.”
She stopped with the fork halfway to her mouth. “What about me and Cole?”
“You two really ain’t an item? Not now, not in the past? No hope for the future?”
“Oh, God, no.”
“How come?”
She shrugged. “Well, one reason is because he’s still completely in love with his ex-wife. He has no clue where she is and he doubts that she’ll ever come back to Denver, but it doesn’t seem to make any difference to him whatsoever. He loves her like I’ve never seen anybody love before, and the man has no interest in any woman but her.”
That made Griff back up a bit. “Ah. Right.”
“A second reason is because I…” She hesitated, and Griff saw her thoughts racing. “Well. I haven’t really been looking.”
“No?”
“No.”
“How come?”
“Well,” she stalled again. “I’m not – great at relationships.”
Griff was on full alert now. Whatever she was going to say was going to be all about Wilbur. God knows what or how much she’d give away… but she seemed ready to spill at least a few beans.
And Griff was finally going to get a glimpse into their marriage. A real, honest one.
“Why do you say that?” he asked her gently. “You had a relationship end badly?”
“Oh, God. Yes.”
He blinked at her vehemence. “Uh… boyfriend?”
“No. Husband.”
“Oh,” he said, stunned that she was willing to admit to having been married. “I’m sorry, Caitlin.”
“Yeah, well. I’m not.”
“You’re – you’re not?”
“No.” She took a gulp of wine. “Getting out of that marriage was the best thing I’ve ever done in my life.”
“Oh.” Griff was a bit stumped how to proceed, so he went ahead carefully. “Not a great marriage?”
“No.” The word had a tone of finality, and Griff knew that this conversation was over. “Not even remotely great.”
Looking to slightly deflect her attention now, he said, “But you design and make engagement and wedding rings… so you’re still happy when others get married, right?”
“Of course I am!” She sounded nothing but shocked. “Not every man is my ex, Jack, and not every marriage turns out like mine. I still believe in love, and I celebrate anyone who’s found it. I’m happy to see people who are happy together, and I’m honored and humbled to be included in even one small part of it. I love when a man wants
to surprise his bride with a specially-designed engagement ring, and I love when a woman comes to me with a sketch of her dream wedding ring. I love love, and I love marriage. I just don’t love the love and marriage that I had. That’s all.”
“Right.” Blown away by her sweetness and optimism, Griff stared at her some more. “And you really don’t want to try again? Try for yourself?”
Claire looked over at Jack, saw how the sun caught the blond highlights in his hair. She met those astonishing green eyes, noting that they were a gorgeous, clear-emerald hue right at this moment. God, that color would look incredible on a ring, she thought: the green was pure and strong at the same time.
It was the way that love should be, when it was done right.
She considered his question. Did she want to try again for herself? Try to love again? It wasn’t such a simple question, really.
First, how to fall in love when she was Caitlin Saunders? Being in love was all about honesty and openness, and no way she could offer either one of those things when she was lying about something as basic as her name.
And that lie would only be the first in a long, long line of lies to come. She’d have to lie about her marriage, of course, and her whole life in New York, and what was happening with her ex now. She’d have to lie about anything and everything that could link her to that goddamn mess that Wilbur was in and which she’d fought so hard to extricate herself from. It would be lie upon lie; lie after lie. It would be a tower of lies, and it would just be a matter of time before it collapsed around her, crushing her under the weight of her own deception.
It was no way to love someone. That she knew first-hand, as someone who had so recently managed to crawl out from under the rubble of a collapsed tower of lies.
But that was really only the first problem, wasn’t it? The second problem was the alternative: telling the truth.
What if she met a man that she believed in, body and soul? And what if she thought that he believed in her, too… that he looked past her fake name and past her fake hair color and past her fake glasses, and saw her? Really saw her – saw Claire. Oh sure, he’s be calling her by the wrong name, and he’d be in the dark about so many things – but what if he saw her, as she really, truly was in her heart of hearts?
What if this man appreciated her love of jewelry design, and he knew how much she loved Italian food, and he laughed at the fact that she read nothing but romance novels because, despite it all, she was a sucker for love and happy endings? What if she told him that she preferred red wine to white; that she preferred white chocolate to milk or dark; that she longed to go to Paris? What if he knew that she drank her coffee with whipped cream and sprinkles because that’s how her mother had always drunk it, and she thought about her Mom every single time she sipped a coffee made that way?
What if he knew all these things and so, so many more… and therefore knew the real Claire?
And if he did – then would her fake name really matter? Would her evasion and silence and lies about her marriage and previous life really matter?
And when she told him the truth – the whole, unvarnished truth – wouldn’t he be able to hang on to who she was in her heart… and then forgive her the evasion and the silence and the lies? If he loved her, if he knew her, wouldn’t he want to forgive her?
Claire didn’t know. She did know that it was one hell of a risk – and in the past year, she had met exactly no man that she was willing to take that risk for.
Well… no man until this man. Until Jack Gordon.
His astounding good looks were undeniable, but there was far more to this man than a sexy body and killer smile. He was strong, and he was kind, and he just radiated goodness. But most intriguing of all, he looked at her in a way that both made her shy and pleased her, because for some reason, she felt like he did see her. Those amazing green eyes stared on through her like they were searching for something. An answer to some riddle, or a clue to some mystery.
Jack looked at her like he wanted to know her. Sometimes and for some odd reason, she felt like he did know her. And as a woman who hadn’t been truly known for a long time, Claire responded to that. It made her want to let down her guard, just a bit, and let him in.
Just a bit.
And anyway, what possible harm could it cause to spend some time with Jack? Claire wasn’t talking about love or long-term here. No, she was thinking about fun and short-term. A way to beat back the loneliness and the fear; a way to just be with a man who was attractive and attentive. A man who made her feel good – and what was so wrong with wanting to feel good again?
Just for a little while.
What harm can it do? None… so long as I keep him at arm’s length.
Arm’s length for now, anyway.
How to see him again, though? Now that she thought about it, she’d been out of the dating world for – what? Ten years? No, more. Good God… fourteen years. Ever since she’d met Wilbur at the age of twenty-two, and he’d just swept her away in a whirlwind of attention and lavish gifts and a dream wedding.
Was she supposed to ask Jack for his number, or for coffee tomorrow? Was she supposed to wait for him to ask her? And if he did ask her, was it just about sex? And if it was just about sex, did she actually mind all that much?
Wrenching her mind firmly away from the fact that (a) she hadn’t had sex in about four years, and (b) the sex that she’d had four years ago had been soul-destroyingly awful, Claire drank some more wine, then blinked as Jack’s face swam a bit. Oh, shit. She was getting tipsy. She hadn’t had a drink in over a year, since alcohol had no place in her tight budget, and boy, was she ever feeling the wine now.
Maybe it was the wine that gave her the guts, or maybe it just made her not care anymore, but she decided to just go ahead and ask to see him again. The worst he could say was ‘no’, and if he did, she’d suck it up like a big girl. After all, being rejected by a guy that she’d met fifteen hours earlier wasn’t the worst thing to enter her life lately, huh?
She’d just opened her mouth, when that husky, hot voice rasped, “Caitlin?”
“Uh,” she said, then thought, yeah, that’s me. “Yes, Jack?”
“I was wondering… would I be able to see you again?”
She damn near stood up and tap-danced on the spot, but she played it cool. “Um… well, sure. I think that’d be great.”
“Do you?” he said. “For real?”
“Yeah. For real. Maybe coffee at The Web sometime? On me?”
He smiled that smile, shook his head. “I was thinking more like dinner. Maybe tomorrow?”
“Dinner tomorrow? On me?”
“Yeah. Dinner tomorrow.” His smile widened, and her breath caught. “But on me.”
“Oh. Oh, no. You’re getting lunch today. Dinner’s my treat.”
“No way,” he argued. “You save up your cash for buying what you need to get your business up and running again. I got dinner. Clear?”
“Yes,” she said, so damn touched. “Jack. Thank you.”
“No problem, Caitlin.” The way that he said that name made her wish that it was really hers. “No problem at all.”
Chapter Nine
Nigel Ramirez pursed his lips and stared at the rack of dresses in front of him. He was devastated to see that tulle had made a comeback for early-summer weddings this year, and he was hoping against hope that Beth didn’t love the stuff to excess. In Nigel’s opinion, it just made a woman look like she was draped in mosquito netting.
“Well?”
Nigel turned to face the owner of the sexiest voice that he’d ever heard. Yeah, women were not his thing, but every single time he heard Elise Jordan, owner of his favorite bridal boutique, speak to him, Nigel felt a frisson of – well. Not arousal, exactly, but definitely something.
Elise walked over to him now on the highest heels known to man, and she moved that lush, curvy body as gracefully as a wave. She was warm and bright too, with hair and eyes the color of molasses. She was all g
olden and brown, like the purest sunshine mixed with the purest whisky, and damned if Nigel didn’t catch his breath at her approach. He’d seen Elise a thousand times, and she still had this effect on him.
God help the average straight man when she shows up.
“Well?” Elise repeated. “See anything that Beth might like?”
“Definitely,” Nigel replied. “She ready to try a few things on?”
“Yes. She and the ladies are in the private viewing room.”
“She got the super-classy one, huh?”
“Of course.” Elise grinned. “Only the best for your client’s, Nigel. You know that.”
Nigel nodded. Beth was, indeed, his client – and that was thanks to Olivia Jameson, now Olivia Foreman. He was Olivia’s former personal assistant from her modeling days, and when her career had ended at the hands of a stalker with a knife, Nigel had started his own wedding planning business. It had been Nigel who had planned Liv’s wedding to the walking-sex-on-a-stick Dallas, and Liv’s wedding gift to Beth was Nigel’s full service.
He didn’t know Beth well, and he didn’t know her future husband Jim at all, but Nigel was determined to give them an amazing wedding day. What he knew about Beth’s past broke his heart. If anyone deserved good things, it was Beth, a woman who had survived years of being hunted by her violent, abusive rapist, the man who had first fathered her child and then killed that unborn child. She’d been alone and frightened for a long time, and all that Nigel wanted to do was help her and Jim have an incredible start to their married life together.
Elise nodded at Colin, her assistant, and the other man dragged the rack of dresses down the hallway to where Beth sat, wondering just what the hell she’d gotten herself into when she and Jim had agreed on a wedding for 150 people. There was just so much to do, and over the past few days, she’d become increasingly grateful to be able to hand things over to Nigel. He’d told her that his role was to source everything – from the dresses to the cakes to the reception venues – and all she had to do was show up and either accept or reject what was on offer.
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