by Shirley Jump
“Hey! You can’t leave. You’re my witness.”
“Listen, I’m exhausted and I just want to get home.” She raised her arm higher, waving her hand, hoping to see at least one available cab. Nothing. Her feet screamed in protest. Soon as she got home, she was burning these shoes. “I’ll give you my number. Call me for my statement.” She fished in her purse for a business card, and held it out.
He ignored the card. “I need you to stay.”
“And I need to get home.” She waved harder, but the lone cab that passed her didn’t stop. “This is Boston. Why aren’t there any cabs?”
“Celtics game is just getting over,” the man said. “They’re probably all over at the Garden.”
“Great.” She lowered her arm, then thought of the ten-block hike home. Not fun in high heels. Even less fun after an eighteen-hour day, the last four spent dancing and socializing. She should have drunk an entire pot of coffee.
“I’ll make you a deal,” the man said. “I’ll give you a lift if you can wait until I’ve finished making the accident report. Then you can give your statement and kill two birds with one stone.”
She hesitated. “I don’t know. I’m really tired.”
“Stay for just a bit more. After tonight, you’ll never have to see me again.” He grinned.
He had a nice smile. An echoing smile curved across her face. She glanced down the street in the direction of her condo and thought of the soft bed waiting for her there. She weighed that against walking home. Option two made her feet hurt ten times more. Stupid shoes.
She glanced back at the misshapen silver car. “You’re sure you can drive me home? In that?”
“It runs. It’s just got a little junk in the trunk.” He grinned. “Sorry. Bad joke.”
A laugh escaped her and eased some of the tension in her shoulders, the pain in her feet. “Even a bad joke sounds good right now.” No cabs appeared, and that settled the decision for her. “Okay, I’ll wait.”
Not that it was going to be a hardship to wait with a view like that. This guy could have been a cover model. Whew. Hot, hot, hot. She should get his contact information. She had at least a dozen clients who would be—
You’re always working.
Marnie could hear her mother’s voice in her head. Take some time off. Have some fun. Date a guy for yourself. Don’t be so serious and buttoned up all the time.
What no one seemed to understand was this buttoned-up approach had fueled Marnie’s success. She’d seen how a laissez-faire approach to business could destroy a company and refused to repeat those mistakes herself. A distraction like Mr. Suit and Tie would only derail her, something she couldn’t afford.
The man opened the passenger’s side door. “Have a seat. You look like you’ve had a trying day. And I know how that feels.”
She sank into the leather seat, kicked off her shoes and let the platform heels tumble to the sidewalk. The man came to stand beside her, leaning against the rear passenger door. He had the look of a man comfortable in his own skin, at ease with the world. Confident, sexy, but not overly so. A hot combination, especially with the suit and tie. Her stance toward him softened.
“You’re right. I have had a long, trying day myself.” She put out her hand. “Let’s try this again. I’m Marnie Franklin.”
“Jack Knight.”
The name rang a bell, but the connection flitted away before she could grasp it because when he took her hand in his, a delicious spark ran through her, down her arm. If she hadn’t been seated, she might have jumped back in surprise. In her business, she shook hands with dozens of men in the course of a week. None had ever sent that little...zing through her. Maybe exhaustion had lowered her defenses. Or maybe the accident had shaken her up more than she thought. She released his hand, and brushed the hair out of her eyes, if only to keep from touching him again.
The police arrived, two officers who looked like they’d rather be going for a root canal than taking another accident report in the dent and ding city of Boston. For the next ten minutes Marnie and Jack answered questions. After the police were gone, Jack turned to her. “Thanks for staying. You made a stressful day much better.”
“Glad to help.”
Jack bent down and picked up the black heels she’d kicked onto the sidewalk when she’d sat in his car. He handed them to Marnie, the twin heels dangling from his index finger by their strappy backs. In his strong, capable hands, the fancy shoes looked even more delicate. “Your shoes, Cinderella.” He gave her a wink, and that zing rushed through her a second time.
“I’m far from Cinderella.” She bent and slipped on the damnable slingbacks. Pretty, but painful. “More like the not-so-evil stepmother, trying to fix up all the stepsisters with princes.”
His smile had a dash of sexy, a glimmer of a tease. “Every woman deserves to be Cinderella at least once in her life.”
“Maybe so, if she believes in fairy tales and magic mice.”
She worked in the business of helping people fall in love, and had given up on the fairy tale herself a long time ago. Over the years, she’d become, if anything, more cautious, less willing to dip a toe in the romance pool. When she’d started matchmaking she’d been starry eyed, hopeful. But now...
Now she had a lot of years of reality beneath her and the stars had faded from her vision. She knew her business had suffered as a consequence. Somehow she needed to restore her belief in the very thing she touted to her clients—the existence of true love.
Jack shut her door and came around to the driver’s side. The car started with a soft purr. “Where to?”
She gave him her address, and he put the car in gear. She settled into the luxury seat. The dark leather hugged her body, warm and easy. Damn. She needed to step outside the basic car model box because sitting in this sedan made it pretty easy to fall for the whole Cinderella fantasy. It wasn’t a white horse, but it was a giant step closer to a royal ride. Having a good looking prince beside her helped feed that fantasy, too.
“I’m sorry for being grumpy earlier. That accident was the icing on a tough day. Thanks again for staying and talking to the cops for me,” he said. “I can’t believe you remembered all those details about the driver.”
She shrugged. “My father used to make me do that. Whenever we went someplace, he made sure I noticed the waiter’s name or the cab driver’s ID. He’d have me recite the address or license plate or some other detail. He said you never knew when doing that would come in handy, and he was right.” She could almost hear her father’s voice in her ear. Watch the details, Daisy-doo, because you never know when they’ll matter. He’d rarely called her Marnie, almost always Daisy-doo, because of her love for the flowers. Kat had been Kitty, Erica had been Chatterbug. Marnie missed hearing her father’s wisdom, the way he lovingly teased his daughters. “Besides, the cab driver had his hands on the GPS more than the steering wheel, and that made me doubly nervous. If I could have, I would have jumped in the driver’s seat and taken the wheel myself.”
He chuckled. “Nice to meet a fellow control freak.”
“Me? I’m not a control freak.” She wrinkled her nose. “Okay, maybe I am. A little. But in my house, things were a little...crazy when I was a kid and someone had to take the reins.”
“Let me guess. You’re the oldest? An only?”
“The middle kid, but only younger than the oldest by nine months.”
“Oh, so not just the driver, but the peacemaker, too?” He tossed her a grin.
He’d nailed her, in a few words. “Do you read personality trait books in your spare time or something?”
“Nah. I’m just in a business where it’s essential to be able to read people, quickly, and well.”
“Me, too. Though sometimes you don’t like what you read.”
“True.” Jack glanced over at her, his blue eyes h
olding her features for a long moment before he returned his attention to the road. “So, Cinderella, what has made you so jaded?”
The conversational detour jolted her. She shifted in her seat. “Not jaded...realistic.”
“Well, that makes two of us. I find, in my line of work, that realism is a must.”
The amber glow of the street lights and the soft white light coming from the dash outlined his lean, defined profile with a soft edge. Despite the easy tone of his words, something in them hinted at a past that hadn’t been easy. Maybe a bad breakup, or a bitter divorce? Either way, despite the zing, she wasn’t interested in cleaning up someone else’s baggage. Stick to impersonal topics, Marnie.
His cell phone started to ring, and the touchscreen in the center of his dash lit up with the word Dad. “Do you mind if I answer this?” Jack asked. “If I don’t, he’ll just keep calling.”
She chuckled and waved toward the screen. “Go right ahead. I totally understand.”
Jack leaned forward, pressed a button on the screen, then sat back again. “Hey, Dad, what’s up? And before you say a word, you’re on speaker, so don’t blurt out any family secrets or embarrassing stories.”
“You got someone in the car with you?” said a deep, amused voice on the other end. “Someone pretty, I hope.”
Jack glanced at Marnie. A slow smile stole across his face and a quiver ran through her. “Yes, someone very pretty. So be on your best behavior.”
His father chuckled. “That’s no fun. The only thing that gets me out of bed in the morning is the potential for bad behavior.”
Beside her, Jack rolled his eyes and grinned. Parents, he mouthed.
Seemed she wasn’t the only one with a troublesome parent. Jack handled his father with a nice degree of love and humor. That tender touch raised her esteem for him, and had her looking past the suit and tie. Intriguing man. Almost...intoxicating.
She didn’t have time, or room, in her life for being intrigued by a man, though, especially since her business took nearly every spare moment. Even one as handsome as him.
She could almost hear her mother screaming in disagreement, but Marnie knew her business and herself. If she got involved with someone right now, it would be a distraction. Maybe down the road, when her business and life were more settled...
Someday when?
She’d been saying “someday” for years. And had to find the right moment—or the right man—to make her open her heart to love.
“I called because I was wondering when you’d be home,” Jack’s father was saying. “You work more hours than the President, for God’s sake.”
Marnie bit back a laugh. It could have been her conversation with her mother a little while ago. She half expected his father to schedule a blind date brunch, too.
“I’m on my way.” Jack flicked a glance at the dashboard clock. “Give me twenty minutes. Did you eat?”
“Yeah. Sandwiches. Again. Lord knows you don’t have anything in that refrigerator of yours besides beer and moldy takeout.”
“Because I’m never there to eat.”
“Exactly.” Jack’s father cleared his throat. “I have an idea. Maybe...you should bring your pretty companion home for a—”
“Hey, no embarrassing statements, remember?”
His father chuckled. “Okay, okay. Drive safe.”
Jack told his father he’d be home soon, then said goodbye and disconnected the call. “Sorry about that,” Jack said to Marnie. “My dad is...needy sometimes. Even though it’s been a few years since he got divorced, it’s like he’s been lost.”
“My mother is the same way. She calls me every five minutes to make sure I’m eating my vegetables, wearing sunscreen and not working too much.”
He chuckled. “Sounds like we have the same parent. Ever since my dad sold his house, he’s been living with me, while he tries to figure out if he wants to stay in Boston or high-tail it for sunny Florida. He thinks that means he should comment on everything I do and every piece of furniture in my apartment.”
“And what is or isn’t in your fridge.” Marnie’s mom stopped by Marnie’s condo almost every Sunday after church, but less to visit than to do a responsible child check. You need more vegetables, her mother would say. Or you should cook for yourself more often. And the best, if you had a man in your life, you wouldn’t have to do that. Marnie loved her mother, but had realized a long time ago that a mother’s love could be...invasive. “I get the whole you should make more time for homecooked meals and a personal life lecture on a weekly basis. I think my mother forgets how many hours I work. The last thing I want to do when I get home is whip up a platter of lasagna.”
“I think they go to school for that,” Jack said. “How to Bug Your Adult Kids 101.”
She laughed. It did sound like they had the same parent. “Maybe you should get your dad involved in something else, something that keeps him too busy to focus on you. There are all kinds of singles events for people his age. Some of them are dates in disguise, get-togethers centered around hobbies, like cooking or pets,” Marnie said, unable to stop work talk from invading every second of her day. My lord, she was a compulsive matchmaker. And one who needed to take her own advice. First thing tomorrow, she was going to look into dates for Ma and someday soon, she’d nicely tell her mother to butt out.
Yeah, right. Marnie had yet to do that to anyone, especially her mother. But she could tell others what to do. That she excelled at, according to her sisters.
Jack nodded. “I tried that before, years ago, but it didn’t go so well. But you’re right—maybe if I try again, now that some time has passed since all that upheaval, my dad will be more open to doing some activities, especially ones that get him dating again.”
“And if he meets someone else—”
“He won’t have time to worry about my fridge or my hours.” Jack laughed. “Ah, such a devious plan we’ve concocted.”
“As long as it works.” She grinned.
Jack turned onto Marnie’s street. A flicker of disappointment ran through her as the ride came to an end. “It’s the fourth one on the right,” she said. “With the flowers out front.”
Invite him in? Or call it a night?
He slowed the car, then stopped at her building’s entrance. “Nice looking place. I love these brick buildings from the early 1900s. It’s always nice to see the architecture get preserved when the building gets repurposed. Not every owner appreciates history like that.”
“Me, too. Coming home is like stepping into history.” She smiled, then put out her hand. Impersonal, business-like. “Well, thank you for the ride.”
That zing ran through her again when his large hand enfolded hers. For a second, she had the crazy thought of yanking on his hand, pulling him across the car, and kissing him. His broad chest against hers, his lips dancing around her mouth, his hands—
Wow. She needed to sleep more or get extra potassium or something.
“It was the least I could do after you stayed,” Jack was saying. He released her hand. Darn. “Especially after you had a long day yourself.”
Focus on the words he’s speaking, not the fantasy. She jerked her gaze away from his mouth. “It was no trouble.”
He grinned. “You said that already.”
“Oh, well, I’m just really...tired.”
“Yeah, me, too. I had a long day, made longer by someone who dropped the ball on some important paperwork. I got everything back on track, but...what a day.” He ran a hand through his hair, displacing the dark locks. “Anyway, I’m sorry again about losing my temper back there.”
“I would have done the same thing if my trunk looked like an origami project,” she said.
He glanced in the rearview mirror and shrugged off the damaged rear. “It gives my insurance agent something to do.�
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She laughed. “True. Anyway, thanks again. Have a good night.”
“You, too.” He reached for her before she got out of the car, a light, quick touch on her arm. But still enough to send heat searing along her skin. “Would you like to go get a cup of coffee or a drink? We could sit around and complain about our jobs, our meddling parents, bad cab drivers and whatever else we can think of?”
A part of her wanted to say yes, but the realistic part piped up, reminding her of the time and her To Do list, and her no-men-for-the-foreseeable-future resolve. Besides, there was something about that zing, something that told her if she caved, she’d be lost, swept in a tsunami. The mere thought terrified her. “I can’t. It’s late. And I have an early day tomorrow.”
“On Saturday?”
She raised one shoulder, let it drop. “My job is a 24/7 kind of thing.”
He chuckled. “Mine, too. And even though every year I vow to work less and play more...”
“You don’t.”
He nodded.
“Me, too.” Because work was easier than confronting the reasons why she worked too much. Because work was easier than taking a chance on love. Work she could control, depend upon. Love, not so much. But she didn’t say any of that. She released the door handle, and shifted to face him.
Despite the fear, she didn’t want to leave. Right now, with Jack looking at her like that, his eyes lit by the street light above and his strong jaw cast in a dark shadow, her resistance was at an all-time low. Desire pulsed in her veins. She wished she had dragged him across the car and kissed him silly when she’d had the chance. So she delayed leaving a bit longer.
“What do you do for work that keeps you busy late into the day and also on weekends?” She put a finger to her lip and gave him a flirty smile. “Let me guess. Lawyer?”
“Hell, no.” He glanced down. “Oh, I get it. Pinstripe suit, power tie. Screams waiting to sue to you?”
“Well, if the Brooks Brothers fits...”
His smile widened, ending with a dimple. Oh, God. Dimples. She’d always been a sucker for them.
