by Dara Girard
“That’s not like him to share personal information.”
“I was trying to think of a Christmas gift.”
Adriana accepted the explanation; Cassie didn’t. She flashed a sly grin. “Are you interested?”
“No,” she lied. “Just curious.”
“Stay curious,” Adriana said. “You and Clay”—she cut her hand through the air—“Never.”
Cassie waved her fork. “Again, need I point out the kind of couple you and Eric make?”
“We complement each other. Clay’s too old for her.”
“He’s not that old.”
“Jackie deserves someone polished, refined, upwardly mobile.”
“You’re beginning to sound like Drake,” Jackie grumbled.
“Because he’s right.” Adriana sat forward and lowered her voice. “I know he’s intriguing. And to be perfectly honest, he was my first crush.”
Cassie stared at her, surprised. “You never told me that.”
“I know. You don’t usually tell your best friend you have a crush on her brother. Besides, I was eight.”
“Clay would love to know that.”
Adriana pointed a finger at her and said in a low voice, “Don’t you dare tell him.”
Jackie leaned forward, intrigued. “Why did you have a crush on him?”
“The fact that he was cute didn’t hurt. He always knew the right thing to say. If I felt ugly, he’d say I was pretty. If I felt stupid, he’d say I was smart. He never picked on me like other brothers do. His accent also helped and I fell for it.”
“When did your crush stop?”
“When I discovered Child of Rage.”
“What?”
“A rock and roll band,” Cassie explained. “She fell in love with the lead singer, thus beginning her affection for bad boys.”
Adriana glanced at Cassie. “Yes, as I am constantly reminded, I had my fair share of bad boys and thoroughly enjoyed myself. The problem is Clay isn’t a bad boy.”
“Then what is he?”
“I don’t know and that’s the whole mystery. You should be able to categorize a man so that you know how to deal with him. With Clay you can’t. Besides, you want to marry well and he doesn’t fit the standards.”
Jackie shook her head. “I’ve dated polished and refined. Unfortunately, I’m not refined enough for them. Remember where I come from? I’m not like you two. You’re cultured without effort.”
Adriana laughed. “If you only knew. You can marry well, don’t sell yourself short. Your brothers married up, so can you.”
Cassie frowned. “Did you marry Eric for his money?”
Adriana looked insulted. “Of course not.”
“Then stop giving ridiculous advice.”
“It’s not ridiculous. She can’t afford to marry poorly.”
“Clay isn’t poor.”
“I didn’t say he was.” She squeezed Jackie’s hand. “Marry for love. Just make sure he has money.”
“I’m not thinking about marriage anyway.”
Cassie rested her arm on Jackie’s shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze. “If you do, follow your heart.”
“And make sure your head agrees with it.”
Jackie rested against Cassie and smiled at Adriana, loving them as both sisters and friends. But she felt like a fraud.
***
“Jackie, didn’t seem herself today,” Cassie said as Drake prepared for bed.
He pulled on a T-shirt. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure. She’s usually more lively, more playful. Tonight she was subdued. I don’t know,” she said, frustrated. “I can’t put my finger on it.”
He closed the dresser drawer. “She’s concerned about work.”
Cassie shook her head. “No, she’s been under pressure before. This seemed different.”
He turned off his side lamp and slid into bed, gathering her close. He was exhausted, but always felt most at home in bed with her, with the scent of cocoa butter and her soft curves. “Go to sleep.”
“Jackie’s different about the same way you are.”
He stopped. “What do you mean?”
She gently shook his shoulder. “I know you, Drake. What’s wrong?”
He sat up and looked into the open brown eyes that had captured his heart years ago. She trusted him, he didn’t want to start lying to her now. He opened his mouth, closed it, then shook his head. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I can’t tell you,” he said finally.
“Why not?”
He rested his head against the headboard, his exhaustion turning into worry then guilt. “I just can’t.” He turned to her. “Don’t be angry.”
“I’m not angry. I’m hurt, concerned, annoyed, but not angry.” She pulled up the sheets and turned off her light. “Fine. If you can’t talk, we might as well go to sleep.”
He didn’t move. She grabbed his hand. “Stop that.” He hadn’t realized he’d been cracking his knuckles. “Go to sleep.”
“Right.”
After a few moments she said, “I know what it is.”
He waited. “What?”
“You’re seeing someone else.”
He grinned into the darkness. He could never second-guess what she would say. He released a world weary sigh. “How did you find out?”
“Lipstick on your underwear.”
“How did it get there?”
“How would I know? You’re the one having an affair.” She turned to him, sitting up on her elbow. “You’re not very good at this.”
“At what? Pretending I’m having an affair?”
“Yes.”
He brushed her cheek with his knuckles. “I’ll try harder next time.”
“Do. It will be more fun that way. It even helps if you come up with a name.”
“I know her name. It’s Annette. She’s a beautiful woman with an unfortunate name. Ow!” he cried when Cassie pinched him.
“Say my middle name is beautiful.”
“With a straight face? Ow!” She’d pinched him again. “Okay, your middle name is beautiful.”
“And that if there was anything seriously wrong, you would tell me.”
His tone grew serious. “Yes, I’d tell you.”
“Good. So ends your nightly torture.” She pulled up the covers and soon drifted off to sleep. Drake couldn’t do the same.
Chapter Twelve
Clay sat in Eugene’s bar with Drake, Eric, and Eric’s friend Carter, a man with hazel eyes, brown hair, and a deceptively innocent face. Eugene’s was a comfortable place that offered good drinks, an occasional exciting game on TV, and waitresses that weren’t too hard on the eyes—though Clay would never admit he liked coming more for the company than the drinks. He considered few people friends, and Drake and Eric made up that few. He briefly thought about Jackie, then pushed the guilt aside. It would be over between them before anyone found out. However, Drake looked as though something was troubling him. For one sinking moment, Clay wondered if he knew.
“What’s wrong, mate?”
Drake sighed. “Cassie knows.”
He lifted his beer. “Knows what?”
“That I’m hiding something.”
“What are you hiding?” Carter asked.
“The fact that Eric’s doctor’s worried about his lungs.”
Eric scowled. “Nice to know you’re able to keep a secret.”
“I haven’t told Cassie.”
Eric still scowled.
Clay tapped the side of his mug. “Why is it a secret?”
Drake shot his brother a look of disgust. “He doesn’t want his wife to know or mine.”
“Women talk,” Eric said.
“She’s going to break me down.”
“Lie.”
“I can’t lie to her.”
The three men stared at him, stunned.
Carter finally said, “You’re kidding, right?”
Eric grabbed a handful of peanuts and popped one in his mouth. “Th
ere are certain social norms Drake never learned. Like lying to his wife.”
Drake frowned. “You enjoy lying to yours?”
“I don’t have to lie. She doesn’t suspect a thing.”
“Yet.”
“Lying isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” Carter said.
“It’s a means of survival in certain cases. Especially in marriage.” He twisted the wedding band on his finger. “Trust me.”
Clay leaned forward, ready to impart some wisdom.
“There’s an art in lying to a woman. It comes in two forms. One takes careful planning, the other cunning. First you have to establish the situation.”
Drake blinked. “What does that mean?”
“How do you know she’s on to you?” Eric clarified.
“She asked me what was wrong.”
Clay nodded. “What did you say?”
“I said, ‘I can’t tell you.’”
The men groaned as though they’d just witnessed a bad sports play.
Carter rested his hands on his head and shut his eyes as though in pain. “He’s screwed.”
Clay shook his head. “No, no, he can get out of this. Listen closely, mate. She’s going to ask you again.” He pointed at Drake to make the message clear. “Whatever you do, don’t say, ‘Nothing.’”
The other men nodded. “You’re dead in the water if you do,” Carter said.
Drake furrowed his brows. “Why?”
“Women don’t believe in ‘nothing,’” Eric said.
Carter finished his beer. “Yeah. If she asks you what you’re thinking and you say, ‘Nothing,’ she’ll think you’re keeping something from her. She can’t believe you could really be thinking about nothing. Which also leads to the reverse of this.”
Drake stared. “The reverse?”
“If she says nothing is wrong, it’s definitely something, but she won’t tell you what—”
“And that’s a whole other story,” Clay interrupted.
Drake scratched his head but nodded. “Okay, so I don’t say, ‘Nothing.’”
“Right. And this is what will save you. Tell her about a situation she knows you wouldn’t want to talk about.”
“Like what?”
Clay thought for a moment. “Say your prostate’s bothering you.”
Eric shook his head. “No, then she’ll want you to go visit the doctor.”
They grunted, acknowledging this fact.
“Work,” Carter suggested. “Say you might have to fire somebody.”
Drake signaled for another beer. “She’ll ask me who.”
They fell into silence.
“We need a self-contained lie that won’t snowball,” Carter said.
“Does one exist?” Drake scoffed.
“Sure. We just have to think of it.”
Eric snapped his fingers. “You’re worried about Jackie.”
Drake thanked the waitress when she handed him his drink. He took a gulp. “She’ll ask me why.”
“Just say you’re concerned,” Carter said. “It’s an easy out.”
Eric nodded. “It’s easy to worry about Jackie.”
“True,” Drake said slowly. “She said Jackie seemed different when they went out—subdued.”
Eric frowned. “Jackie subdued? That isn’t like her. She must be more upset about her breakup than she lets on.”
“I think I know someone who could take her mind off it.”
“Stay out of her love life, Drake,” Eric said.
“It would just be an introduction. She’s not seeing anyone now and I’m just looking out for her.”
Clay felt his gut twist.
Drake turned to him and patted him on the back. “Then I have to find a woman for you,” he said, his affection for Clay clear in his gaze.
Clay finished his drink feeling like crap. “I’m fine.”
“I think you could use a refill,” Eric said. “Drake, buy the man a beer.”
“Your money isn’t working?” he asked Eric, signaling the waitress.
“He gave you good advice. We’ll see if it works.”
Drake grinned. “I’m not worried. I trust him.”
Clay glanced away, unable to meet his gaze.
***
Faye came into Jackie’s office on a morning when Jackie had gotten little sleep. She hadn’t been able to speak to Clay since the previous Sunday. “Did you read the Metro section?”
“No.”
“That Winstead guy suffered some sort of freak accident in his car. There was an acid-like substance on his steering wheel and he singed his hands.” She tossed the paper on the desk. “They look like lobster claws now.”
Jackie looked at the photo and grimaced. “Ouch.”
Faye laughed. “I’m sure he used a stronger word than that.” She surveyed the cluttered desk. “How are things coming?”
“They’re moving.” From one pile to another.
“Good. Keep at it. We’ll be back on our feet in no time and you’ll be happy to hear that I convinced another client to join.”
“Do you think we should?”
“We have to. With our present grant we have to serve a certain number of people. If we lose three more clients, we’ll be in serious jeopardy. The more we have, the better we look, plus those numbers will help with the grants you’re writing.”
Jackie tapped her chin pensively. “Do you think we should warn the new client?”
“About what?”
“The man Melanie talked about.”
Faye folded her arms. “Has Melanie called you?”
“No.” She wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or bad.
Faye shrugged. “Then in all likelihood you’ve convinced her to stay with us and that guy was a passing infatuation. There are men out there that can charm you blind.”
“He called me once,” Jackie said quietly.
Faye looked at her, stunned, “What?”
Jackie became unsure. “At least I think it was him.” She shook her head. What he’d said sounded silly and he hadn’t called her since. “Never mind. You’re probably right. So has Nicolas called?” Jackie asked, curious about the blue-eyed stranger they’d met at the funeral.
“We went out last weekend.”
“Did you have a good time?”
“Yes, it was nice. Well, I won’t keep you.”
“Wait a minute. I would like a few details, please.”
Faye shrugged. “There isn’t much to say. Dinner and dancing. The usual.”
“Oh”
Faye turned to the door, then tripped on a stack of books. She caught herself on a chair.
“I’m sorry,” Jackie said, moving the stack to the wall. She glanced around her cramped, messy office, then back at Faye. She looked out of place in her stylish clothes—as though she belonged in a multimillion-dollar corporation. “Why do you do this? I mean, I know why I’m here, but you grew up so far away from this. You could be at a job that makes a lot more money.”
She took a while to answer, her face slowly lighting up as she pondered the reasons. “It’s in my blood, I guess. My parents were always involved in charities and I loved helping them. I loved the feeling that I was contributing to making the world a better place. I just followed in their footsteps.”
“I’m glad you did.”
She grinned. “So am I.”
After Faye left, Jackie sagged against her seat. For the first time she felt beaten. She’d tried contacting other possible investors and failed; she’d considered putting a fundraiser together then thought of all the effort that would entail. Her social life was also uncertain—she hadn’t heard from Clay in days. Perhaps Adriana was right. They were all wrong for each other and fate was trying to give her a sign.
Suddenly Faye’s pleased greeting caught her attention. “Hello, Clayton! What a nice surprise.”
She heard Clay’s low grumble and rushed to the reception area. He couldn’t be here. He wasn’t supposed to be here. What if he told
Faye about the investigation?
She halted when she saw them. Faye turned to her and smiled. “This is Jackie Henson, our vice president.”
Clay shook Jackie’s limp hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“This is Clayton Dubois, he’s interested in the program and—”
“I’d like to speak with you,” Clay smoothly interrupted.
Jackie found her voice. “Yes, of course.”
She led him to her office then shut the door. “Why haven’t you called me?” She held out her hand and lowered her head. “Wait. That wasn’t the question I meant to ask you.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Are you asking out of curiosity or an accusation?”
“If Faye discovers you’re a private investigator—”
He sat. “She won’t. She thinks I’m a reporter doing an article on nonprofit organizations. But thank you,” he said sarcastically. “You have this very clever knack of insulting my intelligence.”
“It’s not hard.”
His eyes darkened.
She waved a dismissive hand. “I didn’t mean it that way.” She was glad to see him, yet annoyed he hadn’t called. She shouldn’t be because this was a casual relationship, nothing more. “It’s just a surprise to see you here, Clayton.”
“I had to think of a name similar to my own in case you saw me and called me by name.”
“I see.”
He stretched his legs out and stared up at her, his voice quiet “Do you trust me to do my job?”
“Yes. What have you discovered?”
“Well, I know one thing.”
She leaned close. “What?”
“It’s a man.”
She playfully hit him and kissed her teeth. “You’re annoying.”
“When I have anything interesting, I’ll let you know.”
“So why are you here?”
He took out an envelope and handed it to her. “This is Winstead’s contribution.”
Jackie took the envelope, confused. “But he didn’t offer to contribute anything.”
“He paid us off. I thought you could put it to better use.”
“Oh, thank you.” She opened it and looked at the amount. “Goodness.” She glanced up, amazed. “Don’t you want any for yourself?”
