“We’ll talk again when you have all your figures together,” he insisted stubbornly. “I want to be part of this, Bree. What matters to you matters to me. That’s the way it is with people who love each other.”
She stilled for an instant, apparently absorbing his words. Then she slowly nodded. “Okay, we’ll at least talk about it.”
“Do you have all the contacts you need to pull together this information?”
“I think so. I’ve met a few regional-theater directors from around the country. I’ll call them. And of course, there’s the manager in Chicago.”
His heart sank. “You’re going to call Marty?”
“No. He didn’t manage the theater. He was the director for a few productions and the resident playwright. I’ll talk to Rebecca. She ran the company.”
Jake tried not to overreact. “Don’t you think she’ll spill the beans to Marty?”
Bree shrugged. “What if she does? He’s out of my life, Jake. I’ve made that clear to him. I’m certainly not going to invite him to be a guest director here, and until we’re some huge success, he won’t even consider having one of his plays produced on our little backwater stage.”
Jake wasn’t convinced. For one thing, he knew how men’s minds worked. For another, he couldn’t imagine any man getting over Bree without taking at least one stab at trying again.
“One call out there might convince him you’re opening the door again,” he warned.
“But I’m not calling him,” she said, obviously frustrated by his refusal to believe her.
“Won’t matter,” he said stubbornly. “I may not know him all that well, but I know men. He’s going to be on your doorstep if you make that call, even if it is to Rebecca.”
“Well, I think you’re wrong, but I’ll tell her specifically not to say anything.”
Jake knew he was probably overreacting, but he didn’t trust the man. Still, he knew it made sense for Bree to go to someone she probably knew as well as she knew Rebecca to get information. He held up his hands. “Okay, handle this your way.”
“I intend to.”
“Have I just destroyed all the goodwill I gained by coming up with this idea?”
She grinned at him. “Not all of it,” she said, kissing him.
“You taste like chocolate,” he murmured, sighing not just with satisfaction, but relief that the argument hadn’t gotten too far out of hand. “I’ll be thinking about that the rest of the day.”
“Me, too,” she said softly. “Now, go to work. You probably have a million things to do today. I know I do.”
Jake was reluctant to go. “Meet me for lunch,” he suggested.
“I can’t get away,” she said with obvious disappointment. “Besides, what about Will and Mack?”
“They’re not as pretty as you are, and they don’t kiss half as well.”
She gave him an odd look. “And you would know that how?”
“Gossip, of course,” he said with a laugh. “Nothing’s sacred in this town.” He still couldn’t bring himself to leave, not without making some kind of plan to see her again. He had this feeling they were very close to getting everything back. “How about dinner, then? Something quick and easy at my place?”
Her eyes sparkled at that. “I can do that.”
“Is seven okay?”
“I’ll be there.”
“You know where I live now?”
“Of course I do. Connie told me. Jenny has pointed it out. I’m surprised someone didn’t leave directions on my doorstep.”
“I suppose they were leaving that to me,” he said.
“Not necessary,” she told him. “You know what I’m starting to think?”
“What?”
“That I was destined to find my way back to you.”
Jake stood rooted to the spot. He wanted to believe she was right, needed to believe it, because even the slimmest possibility that she was wrong scared him to death, especially now when they seemed to be so close to having it all.
Rebecca Moore had been with the Lake Shore Playhouse since its inception twenty years before. She and her husband had been among the five founders. She had dozens of helpful suggestions for Bree when they finally connected early that afternoon.
“I’ll fax over some budgets for the past couple of years, as soon as we get off the phone. They’re public information because of the city and state funding we get, so it’s not a problem for me to share them with you.”
“Thank you so much. You’ve been a huge help,” Bree told her. “I really appreciate it. I don’t know yet if anything will come of this, but I’m excited.”
“I thought you’d opened a flower shop. That’s what Marty’s told everyone. He said you didn’t have what it took to deal with criticism.”
“As annoying as it is to hear he’d say something like that, he was probably right,” Bree admitted. “But no more. My skin’s thicker now, and I’ve gotten a lot of things in perspective.”
“Including the fact that Marty’s not the good guy you thought he was, I hope.”
Bree gave a rueful laugh. “Yeah, that, too. Don’t tell him about this call, okay? The last thing I need is for him to call me and start planting a million little seeds of doubt in my head.”
“He won’t hear a thing about it from me,” Rebecca assured her. “The only time we communicate is when we have to. I didn’t like the way he treated you. If he weren’t an asset around here most of the time, I would have pushed the other partners to send him packing.”
“I can’t believe I was so blind to it,” Bree told her.
“Hero worship,” Rebecca concluded. “Happens to the best of us at one time or another. Sooner or later, though, we discover those feet of clay. Whoops, I hear the Dark Force approaching, so I’d better cut this off. I’ll fax the material as soon as he’s gone.”
Bree chuckled at her nickname for Marty. She wondered if others had always called him that, just not around her. The Dark Force suited him. She could see that now that her blinders were off.
“Thanks again, Rebecca. Talk to you soon.”
When she’d hung up, she saw two customers in the shop. She’d been so caught up with the phone call and her plans, she hadn’t even seen them come in.
“May I help you?” she asked, addressing them both.
For the next couple of hours, as she took their orders and then put together arrangements for delivery, she waited for the fax machine to start spewing out pages, but it remained stubbornly silent. It was nearly six when the line finally rang and the machine kicked on. On the cover sheet, Rebecca had scrawled:
Just a warning, but I think Marty overheard my end of the conversation and put the pieces together. I waited till now to fax this, because he’s been lurking around. Call my cell if you need anything more. Rebecca.
Bree shuddered at the warning. Hopefully, even if Marty did know that Rebecca had been speaking to her, it wouldn’t matter to him. Otherwise, if he called or turned up, it would prove that Jake had been right to worry. And, frankly, she didn’t need the likely aggravation that would result from either man.
Jake went from Bree’s shop to his first job. Either because he was exhausted or simply because the stars were aligned the wrong way, everything about it took longer than he’d anticipated. The home owner had changed her mind about the layout of the plants and shrubs. The ground was filled with rocks and stumps from old hedges. He spent most of the day just trying to get it in some kind of decent condition for planting. He’d have to come back tomorrow to finish the job, which would throw off his schedule for the rest of the week.
By the time he got to the nursery, he was filthy and in no mood for one of Connie’s cross-examinations. He didn’t have time for it, either, with Bree coming to his place in an hour expecting to find a meal on the table.
Despite the warning look he cast in his sister’s direction, she followed him into his office.
“Two, Jake? You got my daughter home on a school night at
close to two o’clock in the morning.”
“We had this conversation before I even talked to Jenny about the concert,” he reminded her. “You knew it would be a late night.”
“Midnight is a late night during the week. I said I’d make an exception because she was going to be with her responsible uncle.”
“The concert didn’t let out until nearly eleven,” he said patiently. “It’s close to a two-hour drive home.”
“And yet you found the time to stop for breakfast,” she said. “What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking she and Dillon were hungry. I was also thinking they’re young enough to recover from one late night, especially since they were with two responsible adults.”
“Want to know how I spent my evening? I spent it on the phone with Dillon’s parents, who were freaking out because he wasn’t home yet.”
“I have no idea why. I had the same conversation with them before we left. They knew we were going to be late.”
“Again, there’s late and then there’s oh-my-God-my-kid’s-been-in-an-accident late.”
He realized at last that there were tears shimmering in her eyes. She’d really been scared. He braved her indignation to hug her. “I should have called you,” he said. “Why didn’t you try my cell phone?”
“I did, about a million times.”
He winced. “I turned it off before the concert. I must have forgotten to turn it back on. I’m so sorry.”
She punched him in the arm. “You should be. And you need to call Dillon’s parents and apologize. They’re threatening never to let him see Jenny again.”
Jake regarded her with a grin. “And that would be awful because…?”
“Because your niece would hate you. And because she’d be sneaking out to see him.”
“Okay, I’ll make nice with the Johnsons. Anything else?”
Calmer now, she perched on the edge of his desk. “Tell me about your evening with Bree. How’d that go?”
“It was interesting.” He searched for a better word. “Unexpected.”
She looked intrigued. “Really? How so?”
“I don’t have time to get into it right now. She’s coming over for dinner in less than an hour. I need a shower and I need groceries.”
“I’ll buy the groceries and drop them off if you’ll take two seconds to tell me why the evening was so interesting.”
“I think she’s going to open a regional theater here,” he said, then pressed a kiss to her forehead and two twenties into her hand. “Steaks, wine and something chocolate for dessert, okay? And you need to get it to my house and vanish before she arrives at seven.”
“But I want more details,” she called after him.
“Tomorrow,” he promised.
Apparently his promise wasn’t enough to suit Connie, because by the time he’d taken his shower and dressed, he found her in the kitchen with Bree having a heart-to-heart exchange about the date that wasn’t a date. They shut up the instant Bree spotted him.
“Spilling all our secrets to my sister?” he asked.
Bree gave him an impudent look. “We don’t have any secrets, at least not any really juicy ones.”
“More’s the pity,” he commented and popped the top off a beer. He leaned against the counter and gave Connie a pointed look. “Don’t you have someplace you need to be?”
She grinned. “Bree asked me to stay.”
Jake scowled. “Did she now?” He met Bree’s guilty gaze. “I wonder why. Second thoughts, perhaps?”
“Second thoughts about what?” Connie asked, then gasped. “Oh, right. Gee, thanks for asking, Bree, but I should get home. Jenny’s probably waiting for dinner.”
Jake gave her a satisfied look. “Enjoy your evening. I’ll make that call to the Johnsons in a little while.”
“Thanks,” Connie said, giving Bree a peck on the cheek and him a conspiratorial wink.
As soon as the kitchen door closed, Bree met his gaze. “You didn’t, by any chance, invite me over here with an ulterior motive, did you?”
He regarded her with an unblinking look. “Yes, I did.”
She returned his look, then nodded slowly. “Then you’d better feed me first.”
Well, well, well, Jake thought. His plans for the evening were definitely looking up.
From the moment Jake had all but tossed his sister out the door, Bree’s senses had been in a state of high anticipation. She went through the motions of helping him to get their meal on the table. She scrubbed a couple of potatoes and put them in the microwave, tossed a salad and set the table, while Jake was outside cooking the steaks on the grill. When he came back in, they sat down opposite each other. He poured the wine, then met her gaze.
“Mind if I offer a toast to us?” he asked.
Unable to look away from the intensity of his gaze, she merely shook her head.
“To whatever the future holds,” he said, then touched his glass to hers.
“To the future,” she murmured, wondering why it suddenly looked so promising after weeks—no, months—of uncertainty.
They managed to make small talk as they ate for about fifteen minutes, but then Jake pushed his plate away. “Food’s the last thing on my mind,” he admitted to her.
Bree nodded. “I’m having a little trouble concentrating on my meal myself.”
His eyes glittering, he warned, “If we stand up from this table, you know what’s going to happen next, don’t you, Bree? There’s still time for you to tell me no.”
“I’m not going to say no,” she said, shoving back her chair and standing to prove the point.
That was apparently enough of an invitation for him. Jake was around the table in a heartbeat. His work-roughened hands, the hands of a real man, framed her face with such tenderness it made her want to cry.
“I love you,” he said solemnly. “Always have, always will.”
“Back at you,” she said, trembling with need. “If you don’t kiss me soon, I think my knees are going to buckle.”
He grinned. “We can’t have that, now, can we?” he said as he scooped her into his arms and cradled her to his chest. “I think we need to hold off on the kissing until we make it to the bedroom. Otherwise, I’ll have to break all these dishes getting them off the kitchen table to make room for us right here.”
“Hurry,” she whispered, her hand on his cheek. Though he’d showered and washed his hair, there was still a faint stubble on his cheeks. She loved the way it felt to her touch. Jake was one of those men who looked even sexier at the end of the day than he did when he was clean shaven in the morning. She loved the masculine textures of him…his cheeks, his hands, the dark hair on his bronzed chest.
She was so absorbed by all the familiar yet excitingly new sensations he stirred in her that she barely noticed anything about his house or his room as he took her down the hallway, then lowered her to the king-size bed with its fresh-from-the-laundry sheets still smelling of sunshine.
“You hung these sheets outside, didn’t you?” she asked, surprised and delighted.
“It’s a pain, but they smell better,” he admitted. “It’s the way my mother always did them.” Laughter glinted in his eyes. “Are we really going to discuss my laundry techniques?”
“Just until you come up with a more fascinating alternative,” she said.
“How about we don’t talk at all?” he suggested, lowering his mouth to cover hers.
That suited Bree. She lost herself to the kiss, to the magical caresses that were setting her skin on fire, to the rising tide building to a crest inside her.
Jake made love the way he did everything else, with total concentration and confidence. She’d forgotten how treasured she’d always felt with him, as if there was something astonishing about every single inch of her, as if he’d never tire of learning all her secrets.
For all of their rush to get into the bedroom, he seemed more than willing to take his time now, lingering over a kiss, savoring the taste o
f her skin, taunting her until she was ready to beg him to stop, then plead for him to go on.
She remembered with absolute clarity why she’d been so sure they belonged together. It was this, the perfection of their intimacy, the way Jake gave her everything, the way he exulted in what she gave back. Together they soared.
Even as the last shuddering waves of a climax died down, Bree wanted more. She wanted moments like this again and again, enough to fill a lifetime.
But as she glanced across the room and spotted the first few chapters of her book tossed on the dresser, nearly hidden by a pile of laundry, she wondered if they could have it all without really dealing with the past. And that half-buried manuscript told her that Jake still hadn’t dealt with it at all.
22
J ake saw the suddenly dulled expression on Bree’s face and followed her gaze to see what had put it there. He spotted the manuscript almost immediately, even as she rolled away from him and tugged the sheet more tightly around her.
“You haven’t read it, have you?” she asked, her tone condemning.
After all the heat they’d just shared, it was like having ice water tossed over him. “No,” he admitted. He’d taken it out of the drawer in which he’d hidden it, but had been unable to make himself read so much as a word.
“Why? You were the one who said you wanted to in the first place and I’ve told you repeatedly how important it is to me.”
“I told you I wanted to before I realized you were dissecting our past,” he said irritably. “I lived it. I don’t need to read about it.”
“Then you should have had the guts to tell me that to my face.”
Jake sighed. “Yes, I should have, but you and I haven’t exactly been in step since you got back.”
“What the hell were we a few minutes ago?”
“Where we probably should have been weeks ago,” he conceded. “Maybe then everything would have made more sense.”
“Sex doesn’t resolve anything, you know that,” she said with exasperation.
“No, but it does clarify what’s worth fighting for, don’t you think?”
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