The Best of Friends

by Susan Mallery

  “Like Blaine did with you?”

  Elizabeth froze in place. Her eyes widened, as color exploded on her cheeks. David immediately felt like a jerk.

  “I shouldn’t have said that,” he told her.

  “No. And you shouldn’t have thought it, either.”

  She walked out of the room, her head high, her shoulders stiff. David thought longingly of escaping somewhere less complicated, like the Australian Outback. Right now blinding winds and burning temperatures seemed like a reprieve.

  As that wasn’t an option, he returned to the party, determined to get another drink. But as he walked into the living room, he realized that dealing with his mother might be the lesser of two evils. Rebecca stood by the patio, Jonathan reaching for her.

  “Stop,” she said, stepping back. “Just stop. Stop following me, stop talking to me, and stop touching me.” She grabbed his hand and pushed it away.

  “Rebecca,” Jonathan pleaded. “Don’t do this. You’re important to me.”

  “Too bad, because you’re not important to me. I told you this was nothing but a fling. Why can’t you listen?”

  Jonathan glanced around at the interested guests. “Please. Not here.”

  “This is as good a place as any.” Rebecca tossed her head. “It’s over, Jonathan. I don’t want to see you again. Ever. Don’t call. Don’t stop by. This was a mistake from the beginning. You’re too old and too boring for someone like me. Now do us all a favor and go away.”

  Twelve

  THE SILENCE THAT FOLLOWED seemed to fill the large living room and press down, as if everything had suddenly gotten too heavy.

  Jonathan turned white. “You’ll regret that,” he said with an anger Rebecca had never heard before. His eyes flashed with a fury that made her take another step back.

  She became aware of the people around them. Watching. Listening. For the first time in a very long time, an uncomfortable sensation poured through her, making her feel small and foolish. She read judgment in the gazes of the guests and finally identified the emotion as shame.

  Dumping Jonathan was one thing, she admitted. Doing it in public might have been a mistake. Not that she would let anyone know she had regrets. Instead of cowering or disappearing, she tossed her hair over her shoulder, smiled, and took a glass of wine from a passing server. She toasted those still watching her, then took a sip.

  Conversation slowly resumed. Rebecca glanced around, looking for someone to approach, a safe conversation to be had. Then the skin on the back of her neck prickled in a way that had her instantly on edge. There was only one man on the planet who could get her attention simply by walking into a room.

  It wasn’t possible. He couldn’t be here.

  She turned slowly, bracing herself for the inevitable. Then she saw him. Tall, tanned, and ruggedly handsome. Like an actor out of a commercial featuring cowboys and cigarettes. Nigel moved toward her, his walk more swagger than stride.

  His dark hair was too long, his eyes burned with desire and appreciation, his mouth turned up with the hint of a smile.

  “Becca Blue,” he said as he got closer, as always his Australian accent making her weak at the knees. “You do have style.”

  She told herself that he was married and that she had to be strong. That whatever brought him here and whatever he wanted, it couldn’t be good. Not for her. But when he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, she felt like she’d found her way back home… for the first time in months.

  For Elizabeth, rage was hot and white and burned in her chest and her stomach. If she had a gun, she would have cheerfully shot Rebecca—consequences be damned.

  It wasn’t just that her daughter had once again ruined David’s party, it was how she’d done it. Publicly, and to Jonathan.

  Good manners demanded that she go to him and apologize for Rebecca’s behavior and somehow try to smooth things over. But her own affair made her hesitate. Twelve years ago, she’d been the one to end things. Was he thinking, Like mother, like daughter? She didn’t want to anger him more and risk his telling Blaine out of revenge. She’d always trusted Jonathan to act like a gentleman, but Rebecca was capable of pushing anyone past the breaking point.

  Not knowing what to do was nearly as horrifying as the scene itself. Someone needed to teach that little bitch a lesson. To think Rebecca was her child. If only she had been adopted—Elizabeth could blame someone else. As it was, she could only assume there was some mental weakness, some flaw inside of Rebecca. If she were younger, she could be locked away. Something Elizabeth should have thought of years ago.

  But it was too late, and she had a party to salvage.

  She forced herself to smile, as if Rebecca’s outburst had been in her plan all along, and mingled with her guests. As she spoke and waved over servers to refill drinks, she searched for Blaine. Finally she spotted him talking to that drab Marjorie Danes. Why someone with that much money dressed so plainly, she would never know.

  She crossed to him. “Hello, Marjorie. Blaine, I need you to circulate among our guests. Provide a distraction.”

  “All right,” he said absently. “A distraction from what?”

  Marjorie patted his arm. “He was in the restroom and missed Rebecca’s… conversation. I wasn’t going to say anything.”

  Blaine frowned. “What happened with Rebecca?”

  “She broke up with Jonathan in front of everyone,” Elizabeth said, annoyed that Marjorie hadn’t told him and that he hadn’t stopped it in the first place. Rebecca took after him—this was his fault for indulging her while she was growing up. “He was humiliated, and now everyone is talking.”

  “He was too old for her,” Blaine said. “What was she thinking?”

  “God only knows with that girl. Blaine, the party? Can you talk to a few people and act as if everything is all right?”

  “I’ll go with him,” Marjorie said, slipping her arm through his. “My oldest daughter just told me she was pregnant. I didn’t want to take away from David by telling anyone, but under the circumstances…”

  Idiot, Elizabeth thought grimly. “Yes, please. Tell everyone you’re about to have another grandchild. How delightful.”

  She walked away thinking that of course Marjorie was the type to happily announce she was a grandmother. She probably called it “aging with grace” instead of “letting oneself go,” too.

  She left her husband with Marjorie and started looking for Jayne. At least she would understand the disaster and give her an honest assessment of the situation. People tended not to notice Jayne and speak as if she wasn’t in the room.

  Elizabeth spotted her heading into the kitchen and went to catch up with her. As she moved across the room she saw Rebecca with a tall, good-looking man. He was casually dressed, but his clothes were expensive. Not American, she thought. English, perhaps? She walked faster.

  Jayne stood by the large kitchen island with a list in her hands. Probably confirming the entrées were ready to go out to the buffet table, Elizabeth thought, relieved to know she could always count on Jayne.

  “Leave them to deal with the food,” she said, motioning for Jayne to follow her into the pantry, where they would have some privacy. The small room was maybe twelve feet square, with rows of shelves, two freezers, and a long counter and sink for prep work. “How bad is it?”

  Jayne didn’t pretend to misunderstand. Sympathy flared in her brown eyes. “From what I can tell, about ten or fifteen people heard the whole thing. They’re spreading the word.”

  “Of course. I’m sure they’re exaggerating the story.”

  “I’m not sure they have to. She was fairly brutal. Jonathan stalked out into the garden. I don’t know if he’s left.”

  “He’s probably sulking,” Elizabeth said absently, wondering if there was any way to save the party. “Jonathan has always been sulky.” She pressed her lips together before she said too much. “Would you go check on him? If he’s still lingering, pretend concern and get him to leave.”
/>   “Sure.” She moved toward the door.

  Elizabeth grabbed her arm. “Wait. There’s a man with Rebecca. Tall, dark, very nice looking. Mid-thirties. Scar on his chin. Probably not American. Do you know who he is?”

  Jayne stepped back and clasped her hands together in front of her waist. “Um, yes. Probably. His name is Nigel. He’s Australian. I didn’t know he was coming here.”

  “So Rebecca knows him?”

  “They were involved for a while. It didn’t work out.”

  “No doubt my daughter is responsible for that,” Elizabeth snapped. God forbid Rebecca make a relationship work. “What does he do? Is there money in the family? Is it possible she’s found someone wealthy and appropriate? Dare I hope?”

  Jayne’s eyes narrowed. “I’m sure the question you meant to ask is, Who is he as a person? Is he good for her? Does he make her happy? Isn’t that more important than any money he might have?”

  Elizabeth couldn’t have been more surprised if the can of beans on the shelf next to her had spoken. “How dare you?” she breathed. “You are never to speak to me like that again. You forget yourself; you forget who I am and what you owe me.”

  “I’m clear on who you are,” Jayne told her, sounding more angry than contrite. “It’s my role that gets confusing. Not the hired help, exactly. I don’t get paid for what I do. As for Nigel, he’s part owner of a diamond mine. So yes, he has some money. From your perspective, I’m guessing that’s good enough. Wealth makes up for a lot. At least for you. Little else matters, right?”

  Fury burned hot and bright, making Elizabeth want to slap her. “Get out,” she breathed. “Get out of my house. After all this time and all I’ve done for you, I finally see the person you are. Ungrateful. Disrespectful. When I think of how foolishly I took care of you. This is my reward? You disgust me.”

  “Then we’re even. And Elizabeth, in case you were wondering, you’re the reason I’m moving a thousand miles away.”

  Jayne walked out of the pantry. She felt oddly disconnected from her body, as if she were floating alongside of it.

  She couldn’t explain what had happened. Something inside of her had snapped. One second she’d been feeling bad about how Rebecca had humiliated her family, and the next she’d wanted to shove a pie in Elizabeth’s unnaturally tight face. It was the other woman’s comments about Rebecca. And, okay, the fight with David.

  Every one of the Wordens was insane, with the possible exception of Blaine. He was too clueless about what was going on to qualify as crazy. David wanted to bring her to the “let’s find a wife” party as his date and then had gotten pissed when she’d refused. Rebecca chose to embarrass a perfectly nice man whose only flaw was in adoring her a little too much and not being the married man she was still in love with. Elizabeth was a psycho bitch determined to maintain appearances, despite whatever reality threw at her. For her, there was only the perfect son and the mistake of a daughter.

  Jayne didn’t have whatever was necessary to live in this world anymore. She’d done her best to thank Elizabeth for taking her in. She’d been an unpaid servant for years. It had to be enough. She was done. Totally and completely done.

  Texas would be better, she promised herself. Quiet and normal. She would find a nice guy to fall in love with. Someone whose idea of a good time was dinner with family or taking his dog for a walk. She couldn’t even care if he liked to spend all Sunday afternoon watching football.

  She wanted normal. Boring. Right now, boring looked really, really good.

  She opened the closet and pulled out her small handbag.

  “You’re leaving?”

  She shut the door and found David next to her, in the quiet hallway.

  “I want to talk to you,” he told her.

  “This isn’t a good time.”

  She tried to move past him, but the hallway wouldn’t allow that, not without their touching. And despite everything that had happened, she couldn’t brush against him without wanting to lean in and beg.

  “This time works for me,” he told her.

  “Then that’s what matters, isn’t it?” she snapped, feeling her temper flare. “Because it’s all about you. What I want isn’t important. You have spoken. Let David’s will be done.”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “The sarcasm is a nice touch.”

  “You like it? You earned it. What do you want? Obviously not to respect my request that we not do this here and now.”

  “I respected your wishes. I wanted you to come as my date, and you refused. I didn’t push.”

  “No. You were sullen and obviously pissed. Not the least bit gracious. You didn’t try to see my side of things. But you didn’t push. Yay, you.”

  “Jayne,” he began, dropping his arms to his side. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “How did you mean it? We’re talking because this is a good time for you. I’m supposed to quiver with gratitude because you didn’t push. Let’s be clear. Your asking me out to something doesn’t obligate me to go with you.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you also know what this party is about? It’s your chance to find the right kind of girl to marry. Your mother has some very clear ideas on that, and obviously you don’t disagree, because you were fine with the party. Then you invite me as your date. What the hell is up with that? Are you too frightened to stand up to your mother? Is some twisted passive-aggressive response better? You won’t tell her no, but you’ll bring someone like me just to piss her off ? That’s mature. And doesn’t it do great things for my relationship with her?”

  Not that Elizabeth was going to be speaking to her anytime soon, but that wasn’t the point.

  She slung her purse over her shoulder, then planted her hands on her hips. “Where do you get off using me like that?”

  “I’m not using you,” he growled. “I wanted you to be my date because I wanted to spend time with you.”

  “At this party? Does anything about that strike you as smart? Or even reasonable? You told your mother you’d come home to L.A. to get married. Were you lying?”

  “No.”

  “Then go find a wife. I’m busy.”

  She started to push past him, but he wouldn’t let her. He shifted in front of her, blocking her exit.

  “That’s it?” he asked. “You don’t care that I’m supposed to find my future bride here?”

  “It has nothing to do with me.” She might be wild about him, but she wasn’t an idiot. Unlike some others she could name.

  “We slept together, Jayne. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  It meant more than he could ever know. The night had been magical, but not as perfect as the man. It wasn’t just the things he’d done to her body—it was the way he’d made her laugh. How they’d talked until two, then made love again. It was him in her shower, yelling that her shampoo was going to make him smell like a girl.

  She stared into his impossibly blue eyes. “It was meaningless.”

  A muscle in his cheek twitched. “To you.”

  “No, David. It was meaningless to you.”

  He swore. “Because I’d have sex with anyone who was convenient?”

  “I’m sure there are standards.”

  “Are you?”

  She flinched. “I know we had a good time together. But I’m not going to pretend I believe the sex is significant to you.”

  “I’m not sure who that speaks worse of,” he said. “Me or you.”

  She watched him walk away. Part of her wanted to call him back, to say that she hadn’t really meant it. That if he thought there was even the slightest chance they could make it work, she would sell her soul for the opportunity. Then she reminded herself that she’d already given the Wordens plenty over the years. They could manage very well without her soul.

  The garden smelled sweet. The air was cool, but not unbearably so, although Rebecca had a feeling she wouldn’t notice the temperature even if she was standing in the center of the sun.
She was with Nigel, and little else mattered.

  He sat next to her, on a low stone wall, his arm around her. She could feel the steady beat of his heart and breathe in the familiar scent of him. It had been so long, she thought, both thrilled and apprehensive about his presence. Too long.

  “The whole sky is different,” he said, staring up at the clear night. “The stars. It’s freaky.”

  “It’s a different hemisphere. Besides, you should be happy to see any stars at all. This is L.A. We don’t get to see the sky very often.”

  “Then I’ll enjoy the view down here.” He leaned in and kissed her. “Hey, Becca Blue.”

  She could so easily get lost in him. She’d done it a thousand times, giving up everything about herself in the effort to please him. Then it got to be too much, and she had to leave. The first time, she’d run clear to Italy. He’d found her, and she’d succumbed again.

  And so it had been, through nearly a decade of loving and wanting, pulling back and then missing him. Until finally she’d been ready to let him win her once and for all. She’d been willing to say the words he told her he needed to hear. That she loved him. That she would marry him. That had been six months ago. Three days later he’d arrived in Italy and told her he was marrying Ariel.

  Now he angled toward her and cupped her face in his hands. “God, I miss you,” he said, his voice low and tempting. “I can’t go an hour without thinking about you. I made a mistake marrying Ariel. I know that now. You’re the one for me; you always have been.”

  The words eased pain in places she hadn’t realized hurt. They made her want to fly and dance and sing. Everything about her life had been off—black-and-white in a world of color. Everyone had been happy but her. Without Nigel, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t create. But with him, she could do anything.

  He leaned in and kissed her. Just a light touch at first, then deeply. His tongue plunged into her mouth.