The Best of Friends

by Susan Mallery

  “I’m delightfully available,” she told him, then noticed the shopping bags in his hand. “You’ve been to the mall? There’s a surprise.”

  “Tell me about it.” He looked around her living room, then walked toward the small table in the kitchen. “You have to see what I have. I went to all the stores and bought samples. Have you seen this stuff?”

  He started pulling out smaller bags and boxes and emptying them onto her table. There were rings and necklaces, bracelets and earrings. Mostly gold, a few silver pieces. Diamonds glittered, chains tangled, and a couple of charms slid to the floor.

  It was like looking at the contents of a pirate’s chest, Jayne thought, unable to believe how much he’d purchased.

  “You’re going to return all this, aren’t you?” she asked, picking up a tennis bracelet. “There has to be thousands of dollars’ worth of jewelry here.”

  David dismissed the question with a shake of his head. “Look at this.” He picked up a slim gold chain and wrapped it around his finger. It immediately bent and crimped. “There’s no quality. You can’t tell me people want something this cheap. It’ll break in a few weeks.”

  He reached for a diamond ring. After pulling a loupe out of his jacket, he handed both to her. “Look at it. Disgusting.”

  She looked through the loupe, and even her untrained eye saw the flaws. A few cracks that looked like feathers, dark spots. “They’re not perfect,” she said.

  “There’s an understatement. These are worse,” he said, tossing a tennis bracelet toward her. He picked up a pair of earrings that were dangling circles. The circles were uneven and not completely attached to the stud. “And these are just plain badly made.” He shook his head. “I don’t get it. Why would anyone buy this stuff ? Sure, these earrings only cost a hundred and twenty dollars, but they won’t last or be wearable. I understand what you meant about making jewelry for everyone else. If this is all they have to choose from, then there’s a big problem.”

  He looked angry and confused, and it was so completely adorable, she just wanted to grab hold of him and never let go. Which would only lead to trouble.

  “I have those earrings,” she said, mostly to distract herself.

  David held them up and flushed. “No way. You don’t. Tell me you don’t actually own these.” He swore. “I’m sorry.”

  She risked touching his arm, ignoring the heat as her fingers brushed against his skin. “Don’t be. I’m kidding. They are really terrible.” She sat down at the table and picked up an engagement ring with a tiny stone she had a feeling was seriously flawed. “I know this isn’t the same as what someone could buy at the Worden boutique, but isn’t there a middle ground? Nice pieces, reasonably priced? I refuse to believe the only choices are spending a hundred and fifty thousand dollars, or getting this.”

  He sat across from her. “What do women want?”

  She laughed. “A question for the ages.”

  He grinned. “Fair enough. What do women want from their jewelry? I’ve spent the past twelve years finding perfect gemstones, but someone else makes the jewelry. I can look at reports that tell me what sells, but that’s just data. What makes you buy or not buy something?”

  “A lot of it is about price,” she admitted. “A good sale helps. Jewelry is difficult, because we don’t want all of it to be expensive. There are fashion pieces that are fun because we can buy new ones every season. Wait here.”

  She walked to her bedroom and grabbed her jewelry box. For a second, she hesitated. There wasn’t anything in there to impress David, but that wasn’t the point. She was helping him. In a way, it was kind of sweet that he’d been so affected by her freak-out at the Worden offices.

  She returned to the table and sat down.

  “We’ll ignore the pieces Rebecca gave me,” she said, setting a couple of pairs of earrings and a necklace aside. “They would never be in my price range.”

  He grabbed an earring that swirled and curved. The thick gold twisted, catching the light. They were substantial, beautiful, and very wearable.

  “If we made these in sterling,” he murmured, rubbing them. “No stones. We usually get our casting work done in Italy, but if I found a cheaper supplier…” He shook his head. “Okay, show me what you’ve got.”

  “Obligatory gold chain,” she said, setting that in front of him. “I have no idea why I bought it, because I never wear it. It’s too skinny to stand out, and I wouldn’t know what kind of pendant to buy. Earrings are easiest. These are gold. I have one bangle.”

  She reached for the fashion jewelry. There were colored-bead necklaces, a couple of faux-pearl necklaces, different dangling earrings in various colors.

  “Changing out a wardrobe every season is impossible,” she said. “But a new pair of earrings or a chunky necklace makes me feel like I’m keeping up without spending a fortune. Most regular women don’t want to spend a fortune. We want fun and easy. Pieces that go with nearly everything in our wardrobe.” She showed him a sterling necklace with fake diamonds. “I love this one. If you hate it, I don’t want to know.”

  He picked it up and studied it. “So you want choices and classic pieces with a sense of style.”

  “Maybe. Everyone is different.”

  He grinned. “So asking you for the definitive woman’s opinion isn’t going to work?”

  As always, she found herself wanting to get lost in his dark blue eyes. He was so damned good looking. Some quirk of fate gave godlike status to a few and left the rest of the world wandering around wondering what life was like for greater mortals. A quirk with a sense of humor.

  “I couldn’t stand the pressure,” she said, hoping she wasn’t drooling.

  “We work with an ad agency. I could ask them about a focus group.”

  “You’re serious about pursuing this?”

  “Sure.”

  “Then don’t go to an ad agency. I have friends I can invite over. Katie and a few others, if you want. They can bring their favorites and what didn’t work, and you can ask all the questions you want.” Assuming he was interested in her friends’ opinions, she thought, wondering if she’d just made a mistake. Maybe an ad agency would be better.

  “That would be great. I could bring some inventory and get their opinions.”

  “Okay, then. I’ll call them and get some dates.” Her friends and David in the same room. It would be interesting. Scary, but interesting. “Now, what about everything you bought? You’re not keeping it all.”

  He shrugged. “I might. It gives me a place to start.”

  “You’re seriously thinking about selling jewelry that doesn’t cost more than a house?”

  “Why not? It makes good business sense to expand. Some companies worry about tarnishing the brand name with inexpensive products, but that won’t hurt us. We’re already the best. Everyone knows that. We’ll have to run the numbers. There’s a financial break-even point, and we need to stay on the side of profit. One of the reasons I’m back is to start taking over the business. I’m not interested in more of the same. To grow the market, we have to expand it. You had a good idea. Did I thank you for it?”

  “No.”

  He stood and then pulled her to her feet. Still holding on to that hand, he tugged her close, then cupped her face, and stared into her eyes.

  “Thank you,” he murmured, right before he kissed her.

  His mouth was warm and tender, yet firm against her own. Even as she absorbed the sensation of his lips on hers, his fingers lightly stroking her cheeks and the heat of his body engulfing hers, the rational side of her brain told her that this time she couldn’t blame the kiss on his slipping. He’d been pretty damned deliberate about the whole thing.

  She raised her arms, then dropped them, not sure what she was supposed to be doing. This wasn’t a real boy-girl kind of kiss. She wasn’t going to react. Except it was very difficult not to lean in when he kept his lips against hers, moving slightly, sending those tingles racing through her body.


  When he dropped his hands, she prepared for him to pull back. She wasn’t going to whimper or beg. She would be a total adult and—

  Both his arms came around her and drew her against him. Suddenly, they were touching from shoulder to knee, and her hands were on his shoulders—lightly, so she didn’t bang him with her cast. Involuntarily, before she could even stop herself, she tilted her head, as if this was a real, honest-to-God kiss. Then his mouth was moving against hers. She felt the light stroke of his tongue against her bottom lip. Her lips parted because that’s what was supposed to happen next.

  Then they were kissing like in the movies, and she felt herself slipping into passion. David was solid and safe in a world that was melting from the inside out. She hung on because she was afraid of falling, although she was careful not to clunk him on the head with her cast. He slid one hand to her hips, then down to her butt. Instinctively she arched against him, shifting her belly closer. She brushed against something hard and thick.

  It was him.

  Pleasure filled her. Not just liquid need, but satisfaction. No mercy kiss ended with an erection. He wanted her. David Worden wanted her.

  Later she would tell herself it was just a guy thing. Pavlovian and meaningless. But for this moment in time, it was magic.

  She gave in to the kiss, losing herself in the tingles and desire surging through her. When he finally stepped back, they were both breathing hard.

  “Nice,” he said.

  She smiled. “I’d say the same, but the last time I said you were nice, you got all hysterical on me. You were practically shrieking.”

  The corners of his mouth turned up. “You’ve got attitude.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Want dinner?”

  What she wanted was sex, but apparently that wasn’t going to be offered. He was sensible, as well as nice. Who knew?

  “Dinner sounds good,” she said.

  Time in his company, she thought happily. She would take as much as was available, enjoying every moment, until she left for good.

  Jonathan pushed in deeper. “Are you close, baby?” His eyes were wide and slightly glazed, his mouth open.

  Rebecca could feel his hot breath on her face. She squeezed hard, hoping to force him over the edge and get finished already.

  “I’m there now,” she breathed, forcing herself to pant slightly, then moaned. She squeezed again, pulsing in what she hoped was a good imitation of an orgasm.

  Apparently it worked. Jonathan thrust one more time, then collapsed on top of her. She endured the dead weight for about ten seconds, then pressed on his shoulders. He rolled off her.

  “God, that was great,” he said, stretching out next to her, then reaching for her hand. “You’re amazing.”

  It was all she could do not to snort. Amazing? At faking it, maybe.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t like sex—she did. And Jonathan, while not the best in the world, was perfectly adequate. The problem was her. Or, more precisely, Nigel. Ever since he’d walked away, choosing Ariel over her, she hadn’t been interested in anything close to intimacy. Something else Nigel had to answer for.

  She had a feeling that if she closed her eyes and pretended she was with him, she could get over the top. But thinking about him while doing it with someone else seemed too much like letting Nigel win.

  Jonathan released her hand, but before she could get out of bed, he pulled her close and began stroking her arm like she was a cat.

  “Where do you want to go out to dinner?” he asked. “Somewhere around here? Or we could go to your place and order in.”

  “I’m not that hungry,” she said, forcing a smile. “You’ve exhausted me. I think I’m going to go home and make it an early night.”

  He smiled at her, then bent down and sucked on her nipple. “I could change your mind.”

  Not in a million years, she thought grimly. “You could,” she said instead. “But I am really tired.”

  “Sure.” He stared into her eyes. “We should go away. Fiji’s great this time of year. Or Hong Kong. You’d love the shopping. I could buy you a new wardrobe.” He touched her throat. “Diamonds that sparkle like your eyes.”

  Gag and double gag, she thought, sitting up. “While I appreciate the offer, travel isn’t on my agenda right now.” She angled away from him, ignoring the fact that he was hard again. “Jonathan, you know this is just for fun, right? You and I? There’s no relationship.”

  His face registered shock, which he covered, but not quickly enough. “Sex and fun,” he said, the erection fading.

  Her instinct was to run as hard and fast as she could, but she wasn’t ready to be done with him. Being with Jonathan made her mother crazy, and where was the bad in that? Unless he got to be too much of a pain in her ass, in which case it was over.

  “I was involved before,” she said, thinking how strange it was that the truth was now her friend. “It ended badly, and I’m still dealing. This isn’t about you.”

  He managed a smile. “I went through a divorce. I know about breakups.”

  “Including the fact that they take time to get over.” She bent over and kissed him, putting as much passion into her thrusting tongue as possible. Then she nipped his lower lip and ran her hand over his penis. “I just need a little time.”

  He got hard again. “Sure. I’ll be here. Waiting.”

  A needy man. That was attractive. She stood and collected her clothes. He got up and pulled on his monogrammed robe, then followed her into the bathroom.

  “If you need more than time, I’m here for you,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  She dressed quickly and let herself out. Once she was in twilight, she inhaled deeply and wondered if Jonathan had been a mistake. Life always exacted a price. Dealing with him might become more trouble than annoying Elizabeth was worth. Which meant she would have to get the most out of ending things.

  Interesting possibilities, she thought as she got into her car and started the engine. There were always interesting possibilities.

  Three days later Jayne found herself crawling through traffic. The café was by the Beverly Center in a trendy, crowded, and expensive part of town. Parking was impossible, so Jayne pulled in front of the valet sign, then groaned when she saw the price—there went twenty dollars she would never see again.

  She got out and made her way past the crowd of people waiting. Inside, the hostess eyed her with a combination of indifference and superiority.

  “The wait for lunch is over an hour,” she said, looking over Jayne’s shoulder, as if hoping to see Jennifer Aniston or Madonna come strolling in.

  “I’m meeting someone,” Jayne said, used to being dismissed in places like this. She didn’t have that air of polished wealth or cutting-edge fashion. She was a regular person. This was not a regular-person part of town. “Elizabeth Worden.”

  The hostess immediately came to attention and smiled warmly. “Of course. She’s here and expecting you. Right this way.”

  She led Jayne through a maze of tables, each covered with organic cotton tablecloths and matching napkins. The wallpaper was probably hemp or bamboo; the overhead light fixtures proudly displayed their low-energy lightbulbs. The scent of cinnamon and ginger hovered in the air.

  Elizabeth’s table was in a quiet alcove. It was larger than most. There was no bread basket—the truly rich and thin didn’t do carbs—although a martini glass sat in front of the older woman.

  Jayne hadn’t wanted to “do lunch.” She was still recovering from her last meeting with Elizabeth. But saying no was difficult, so she’d made a couple of feeble excuses and then had accepted. Plus, she needed to tell Elizabeth about her new job. Her only concession to self-preservation was a promise to herself that if Elizabeth started getting mean, she would walk away—avoiding a scene be damned.

  “Jayne,” Elizabeth said with a welcoming smile. “Thank you so much for joining me. Please, sit. Timothy has already told me about the specials, and there’s a ra
violi you are going to love.”

  “Thanks.” Jayne sank into the chair opposite Elizabeth’s.

  “It’s gorgonzola and walnut with a sweet curry sauce. But you’ll want to look over the menu first. How are you feeling? Is your arm better?”

  The friendly questions and concern were almost unnerving, but Jayne knew Elizabeth could be charming when it suited her. She did it just enough to lull people into a false sense of relaxation, then pounced.

  “I’m great,” she said.

  Timothy appeared with bottled water and a menu. He listed the specials, which included the famous ravioli. Jayne refused an offer of a cocktail or wine and chose the ravioli. Elizabeth got the salmon salad, no dressing, no cheese.

  When they were alone, Elizabeth leaned forward. “I’ve been thinking,” she said. “I want to plan another party for David. The brunch was a disaster. Rebecca completely stole all the attention, and he barely had a chance to talk to the young women I’d invited. So I’m thinking of a dinner.”

  “Your dinner parties are always events,” Jayne said.

  “Yes, and you know I prefer elegant. But to give David a chance to talk with as many people as possible, I’m considering a buffet.”

  Jayne couldn’t hide her surprise.

  Elizabeth chuckled, then sipped on her martini. “I know, I know. Not my style, but sacrifices must be made. He swears he’s back to settle down and get married. I need to make sure he finds the right sort of woman. If I leave him to do that on his own, disaster will follow.”

  “The ladies do like him,” Jayne said, thinking how much she had enjoyed their last encounter. The man knew how to kiss. Probably from years of practice. Dinner had been amazing, too. Three hours of great conversation. In fact, she wasn’t sure which she enjoyed more—the kissing or the talking. She would need a lot more of both before she could decide.

  She reached for her water, then paused. Wait a minute. If he was home to find the perfect someone and get married, what was he doing kissing her? She wasn’t his type. And even if he had a fleeting thought that she might be fun to get to know, he had to be aware that his parents wouldn’t consider her appropriate.