Time for a change of subject, she told herself, searching for something safe. “Elizabeth mentioned you were moving to L.A. permanently. Is that true?”
“I’m ready to give up my traveling ways. I’ve seen the world, found plenty of exciting gemstones.”
“You’ll have cocktail party conversation for a lifetime.”
“You don’t think people will get tired of hearing about the time headhunters had me trapped?”
“Unlikely.”
He leaned toward her. “I have a favor to ask.”
Was it possible he wanted to see her naked? Because that would totally work for her.
“Which is?”
“You’re not going to blindly say yes?” he asked.
“Do I look stupid?”
He grinned. “No. You look good.”
She thought about her ratty clothes and messy hair, but decided to take the comment in the deranged spirit in which he must have meant it.
Their eyes locked. She felt and heard an actual click as they stared at each other. Jayne told herself to look away or at least blink. Somewhere in the complex, a door slammed. She jumped.
“The, ah, favor?” she asked, reaching for her wine.
“I’m buying a house.”
“Okay.”
“Apparently this isn’t something a man should do on his own.” He pointed at her wrist. “Based on what Katie said last night, you won’t be going back to work for a while. Would you mind helping me? Looking at property with me and giving me your opinion?”
She said the only thing she could think of. “Why do you care what I think?”
He looked puzzled. “Why not? You’re smart, you have good taste, and I think it would be fun.”
How did he know this about her?
He sighed. “My mother wants me to have a woman along,” he admitted. “She’s not on my short list, but she trusts you.”
Now this was making sense. “So you’re using me to keep your mother at bay.”
“I’m asking you to help me buy a house because I also trust your judgment, and I would enjoy spending the time with you.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. He was good. Better than good—he was a Worden.
“Sure,” she said. “I have a few weeks off.”
“Excellent.” He flashed her another smile. Had she been standing, she would have been fighting weak knees.
“I have to go into work tomorrow morning to fill out paperwork,” she said. “After that I would be happy to offer my opinion on the real estate front.” She picked up her wine. “Do we know what I’m supposed to stop you from buying?”
“Not a clue.”
“Okay, I’m sure Elizabeth will be in touch to let me know.”
“I have no doubt.” He grinned.
She smiled in return. “Have you picked an area you want to focus on?”
“Something close to a nude beach.”
“There are places in the Valley where they film porn.”
“That works, too.”
* * *
Elizabeth poured tea into a thin china cup, then passed it to Jayne.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, eyeing the bright pink cast with only slightly concealed horror. “Weren’t there any other choices in color?”
Jayne took the tea and did her best not to smile. “Several. I wanted something cheerful.”
“I see. Perhaps something less obvious next time, dear,” Elizabeth murmured. “Although you’re still relatively young. I suppose it’s better than plain white.” She offered the plate of cookies, then leaned back in the cream-colored wingback chair in her office.
Three large windows allowed a view of the side yard, where roses bloomed. The desk was antique, having once belonged to Queen Victoria. The sideboard, where Elizabeth kept her office supplies, was Italian from the eighteenth century. Or seventeenth, Jayne could never remember.
“David is back,” Elizabeth announced. “Permanently, or so he says. He’s a man, so one can never be sure. Still, this is excellent news. He says he’s interested in buying a house and getting married. I’d like you to help him with that.”
Jayne knew Elizabeth meant for Jayne to help with the house hunting, but she had the brief, humorous thought of saying, “Yes, of course. I’ll sacrifice myself and become David’s wife.” If only to be able to stare into those blue eyes every morning, she thought, remembering how nice the man had looked sitting across from her last night at dinner.
“I intend to influence him,” Elizabeth continued. “The house hunting is frightening enough, but God knows what kind of woman he’ll want to date. Men, as a rule, are idiots when it comes to picking the right kind of woman to marry. Especially the rich men. So I’ll want you to tell me if he mentions anyone.”
“I’m not going to spy on him,” Jayne said.
Elizabeth’s thin eyebrows raised slightly.
“I can’t,” she added, hoping she wasn’t blushing. “If he knows I’m giving you information, he won’t say anything. Besides, he’s gone this long without making a mistake. I doubt he’ll suddenly make a bad choice now.”
“I suppose,” Elizabeth said grudgingly. “I don’t need details, but if he’s about to propose to someone completely wrong, you have to tell me.”
“I’ll mention disasters, nothing else.”
Elizabeth didn’t look pleased, but she nodded anyway.
Jayne picked up her tea. The truth was, David was unlikely to tell her anything about his personal life. Too bad, in a way. Hearing about the amazing beauties who cluttered his bed might help with her peace of mind. Once she got over the heartache.
“Now about the house,” Elizabeth said. “He hasn’t given me any hints as to where he’s thinking he wants to buy. You know what areas to avoid. Nothing too big. He can always trade up when he starts a family. Ignore the carpet and paint color. That can all be fixed. Go for large rooms that flow well. A decent kitchen. But location is key.” She sighed. “I just wish he would take me along. But he’s stubborn. He gets that from Blaine.”
“And from you,” Jayne said.
Elizabeth smiled. “I’m determined. There’s a difference.” She set down her tea and reached for a pad of paper on the small table next to her. “I’m going to host a brunch in the next few weeks. Invite the right people. Friends, associates. We’re going to tell everyone this is about welcoming David home, but I also want to use this as a chance to let him meet some nice girls. I’ll need your help with this.”
“Of course,” Jayne said automatically. Just how she wanted to spend her day—finding a nice girl for David.
Elizabeth spent the next half hour going over details until Jayne was finally able to excuse herself.
Once she was home, she collapsed on the sofa and wondered how she’d gotten into such a mess. She hadn’t set out to become Elizabeth’s lapdog. The situation had just sort of evolved. And the truth was, while Elizabeth could be a giant pain in the ass, she’d also been the one to take Jayne in when her mother had died.
Jayne had been in her senior year of high school, with no money, no family, just an aching emptiness and total terror. She remembered standing by her mother’s side, staring down at her body, willing her to open her eyes again and say that everything would be all right. One of the nurses, she couldn’t remember which, had led her into the hallway. Jayne had stood there shaking, too frightened and sad to cry.
Panicked thoughts had chased each other, one more desperate than the last. What would happen to her now? Where would she go? Foster care was the obvious solution, and that thought was nearly as horrifying as the death of her mother. She’d been cold down to her bones—cold in a way that had nothing to do with temperature.
Then she’d heard a familiar clicking sound. Expensive shoes on the hospital floor. Elizabeth had walked toward her, looking elegant and completely out of place in the medical setting. She’d put her arm around Jayne and led her to the closest waiting area.
“You’ll
come home with us,” Elizabeth said. “Your things are being moved this afternoon. Rebecca needs your steadying influence, and you need a place to stay. It will work out for the best. We’re practically family as it is.”
Jayne had listened without responding. She’d been so afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing. Of speaking the words that would cause Elizabeth to change her mind. She’d been beyond grateful, but she had known better than to try to express it. Instead, she’d vowed to show Elizabeth by her actions.
Practically family. When the alternative was having nothing at all, practically family seemed like more than enough.
Despite the time that had passed, nothing had changed, she thought sadly. She was still on the fringes, her nose pressed against the window of the Wordens’ world, looking in. Never quite belonging.
The phone rang. She grabbed it.
“Hello?”
“May I please speak to Jayne?”
“This is she.”
“Hi, Jayne. My name is Paula Nichelson. I got your name and number from a mutual friend, Andie Raven. You used to work with her?”
Jayne sat up straighter. “I remember Andie.” She’d left the breast center a couple of years ago when she’d gotten pregnant with her third child.
“Great. I’m a human resources director in Dallas. We’re opening a new breast center here. Construction is well under way, and while we have a lot of staffing in place, we have a few key positions we’re looking to fill. I’d like to talk to you about that.”
Jayne heard the words but didn’t quite understand what she was saying. “I have a job.”
Paula laughed. “I’m hoping to offer you a better one. We’re going to be a state-of-the-art facility. We have public and private funding, the best and newest equipment, and a mandate to make a difference. We’re the reason you got into nursing.”
Jayne smiled. “You’re not, but I understand the sentiment.”
“We’re very interested in speaking with you. Let me tell you all we can offer. I’m hoping you’ll be intrigued enough to want to come visit, at the very least.”
Dallas. Jayne had never thought about leaving Los Angeles, let alone moving to Texas. She didn’t know very much about that part of the country, beyond that the Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders were there, and that the area had big thunderstorms.
While she loved her job, it wasn’t her world. Not completely. There was always a pull toward something else. The Wordens, she thought ruefully. Not that the family was especially good for her.
Moving that far away would mean being completely on her own. As she considered the possibility, she felt a little uncomfortable but also excited. Yes, she would have to start over and make new friends, but she would no longer be Elizabeth’s unpaid assistant. She wouldn’t have to deal with the sense of never being good enough. And she wouldn’t watch David fall in love and marry someone else.
She would always have Rebecca, she told herself. Which was both good and bad.
Moving would mean starting over, and maybe, just maybe, that was the best thing she could do.
“Tell me more about the facility,” she said.
Rebecca wandered through the Century City Bloomingdale’s, trying to work up a little interest in a handbag or scarf. She’d already wasted an hour trying on shoes she had no intention of buying. She was pissed and sad and upset and couldn’t seem to shake her mood.
In her head, she knew she was being stupid. Of course Jayne had other friends. Rebecca had left ten years ago. While she and Jayne stayed in touch through phone calls and e-mails, and they saw each other a couple of times a year, it wasn’t the same as being able to go to lunch or get drinks on a regular basis. She had friends in Italy.
But that wasn’t the same, the angry, whiny voice inside complained. She was allowed to have friends, and Jayne wasn’t. Jayne was supposed to be waiting for her, living a boring little life until she arrived to make it better.
Which made Rebecca feel like the most selfish person on the planet.
She hated feeling bad about herself, which explained why she was now out shopping, hoping to distract herself until the mood passed.
She left the scarves and found herself by the jewelry counter. There were necklaces and earrings. Bracelets and a couple of pins. She studied the designs, scoping out the competition. A pink-pearl-and-diamond necklace caught her eye—the pearls were perfect. She was about to ask the saleswoman to take it out of the case when she heard someone talking behind her. She couldn’t place the voice, but it was oddly familiar. As if she should know who was speaking.
She turned and saw a tall man looking at a pair of earrings. He was fit, with graying dark hair. She moved closer, then stopped when she recognized Jonathan Mooney, a friend of her parents.
Jonathan was younger than the Wordens by eight or ten years, but still much older than she. She’d had a crush on him when she was twelve. Not that she’d ever told anyone. She vaguely recalled that he had two daughters and that his wife was an avid gardener.
She approached the counter. “Jonathan?”
He looked up, then raised his eyebrows. “Rebecca? Rebecca Worden?”
“Hi.”
“Hello.” He smiled. “I haven’t seen you in years. Did I know you were back in Los Angeles?”
“No, and neither does my mother. You won’t tell anyone you saw me, will you?”
“Of course not. How are you? You look great.”
His gaze traveled her face, lingering on her mouth. The attention surprised her. Jonathan had never noticed her before. She glanced at the display of earrings on the counter and the saleswoman patiently waiting.
“Buying something for your lovely wife?” she asked. Male attention was fine, but married men annoyed her. They should either stick with what they have or leave. There shouldn’t be middle ground.
“No. Liz and I are divorced. It’s been a couple of years now. I’m looking for something for my oldest daughter. Her twenty-first.”
Better, she thought, finding the attention more interesting. “That’s a big birthday. What have you picked out so far?”
He pointed to the diamond earrings, some with pearls. She leaned over the selection and studied them.
“Not pearls,” she said. “They’re traditional and might be too old for a woman her age. These diamonds are nice enough.” She fingered a design of three twisted circles, then asked for a loupe from the clerk.
After studying the small stones through the loupe, she put the earrings back. “Not really what you want,” she said, linking her arm through his and leading him away. “Why don’t you go to the Worden’s store in Beverly Hills?”
“I should,” he said. “I was in Century City visiting my attorney and thought I’d stop by to see what they have here.”
She pulled a piece of paper out of her purse and wrote down two numbers. “Go and ask to see these. They’re by a new designer they’re carrying. Her work is brilliant. These earrings are young and fresh, and the stones are excellent quality. Canadian, actually, so they are conflict-free. You’ll pay about the same, but she’ll love you a whole lot more.”
“Wonderful. How can I thank you?”
They walked out of the store, and she pointed to the coffee stand a few feet away. “You can buy me a latte.”
“Is that all?”
“I’m low maintenance.”
Jonathan laughed. “I know that isn’t true. You’re a Worden.”
“What does that have to do with anything? I’ve been on my own for a long time.”
“Fair enough.”
They stopped by the coffee cart and placed their orders. After Jonathan paid, they moved aside to wait for the lattes.
“Where have you been all this time?” he asked.
“Here and there. Australia. Asia. For the past few years, I’ve been living in Milan.”
“Doing what?”
His dark eyes flashed with interest. He leaned toward her as he spoke. All the signs were there. The question was
, did she care?
The only thing wrong with Jonathan Mooney was that he wasn’t Nigel. Other than that, he was successful, intelligent—and based on how much he was spending on his daughter’s birthday present, still wealthy. More important, he was a distraction when she needed one, and any contact with him would seriously annoy her mother. No, annoy wasn’t the right word. It would crash around her like a meteor and drive Elizabeth crazy.
All the better, Rebecca thought.
“Can you keep a secret?” she asked.
“Certainly. Who are we keeping it from?”
“Everyone, but most especially, my parents.”
“Intriguing.” He took the finished lattes and handed her one. They started walking.
“I design jewelry. The pieces I recommended are mine.”
“That’s the family business,” he said. “Why don’t Blaine and Elizabeth know?”
“For a lot of reasons that aren’t particularly interesting. You won’t say anything?”
“Of course not.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry to hear about your divorce.”
He shrugged. “It happens. I was too busy with work; she was too busy with her garden and charity work. We grew apart.”
“Did you remarry?”
“No. I’ve dated some. That was interesting, after over twenty years with the same woman. The rules have changed.”
“Not all that much.”
He laughed. “They have for me. Women have changed as well. They’re much more powerful and interested in their careers.”
She glanced at him. “Does that intimidate you?”
“Actually, I like it. I dated the obligatory inappropriate young women for a while before realizing that I enjoy conversation with my eye candy.”
“Who are you seeing now?”
“No one.”
She leaned in and linked arms with him again. “I find that very hard to believe.”
“The last woman I was with worked more hours than I, which I could understand, but when she was home, she was still at work.”
“Kind of like dating yourself?”
He laughed. “Almost, although she was much prettier.”
“And now?” she asked.
“Now, I’m looking.”
The Best of Friends Page 6
