by Nancy Bush
His age showed in the slight slackening of the skin around his mouth. It struck her hard. She had been about to issue an ultimatum: rehire Jordan or she’d quit. Now she found the words shriveling in her throat.
“It’s Jesse, isn’t it? Not Jordan.”
He didn’t respond.
“Dad, it was so long ago!”
“Have you told him about Eden?”
Hating herself, April clenched her teeth. “I’m afraid to. I’m afraid he’ll do something terrible if he finds out the truth. But I can’t stand the lies!” she added vehemently.
“That’s why I want him off this job. Don’t you see, April? You’ve just put your life back together. We’ve just put our lives back together. If Cawthorne’s anywhere near you, he can tip the scales. Who knows what could happen?”
The elevator shimmied to a stop. April gazed at her father unhappily. “If I don’t tell him, it’s not fair to either Jesse or Eden. He should know. How would you feel if you found out you had another child, that the mother kept the secret from you? You’d be furious, betrayed. And you would have every right to feel that way.”
Her father had one foot out the door. But he turned and regarded her soberly. “And you know what would be the first thing I’d do when I found out? I’d sue for custody. I’d make sure that my child was with me. By fair means or foul.”
He stalked away and April’s shoulders sagged. She was angry because he was right, and angrier at herself for hesitating, for being afraid.
“What about Jordan?” she called after him anxiously, holding open the door.
“Get someone else. Call your friend Rob at Richard and Richards. Make him a serious offer.”
April slammed her palm against the Up button. The doors whispered closed. She had no intention of calling Rob, or anyone else. It was Jordan she wanted for Hollis’s, no matter what her father said.
And Jesse, whom she wanted for herself.
She pressed her lips together. She could admit it. She was attracted to Jesse. A stubborn, womanly part of herself responded to his voice, his smell, his intense masculinity. Rationalization didn’t work. She could tell herself a million times that he wasn’t good for her and still she wouldn’t listen. She knew there was a small chance for them. She could practically reach out and touch it, if she tried.
April winced. Was that love? She was almost afraid to identify it as such. She was certain that what he felt for her fell far short of that.
And what was Jesse’s capacity for forgiveness? She shuddered to think what his reaction would be when – if – she told him about Eden.
She nearly stepped into Jesse when the elevator opened on the tenth floor. He was standing just outside the doors, his mouth pressed into a thin and uncompromising line. His eyes were strangely opaque, as if he were purposely shutting her out.
“He’s changed his mind,” April lied. “He just overreacted about Jordan.”
“Jordan’s leaving, April. He’s cleaning out his desk.”
“Then I’ll have to stop him. If it takes a formal apology from my father, I’ll get that, too.”
“It’s too late.”
She glared at him. “Jordan can talk for himself, can’t he?”
“Your father hasn’t changed his mind. It’s been set for over ten years. Longer, perhaps.”
She clenched her fists. He had this uncanny knack for being infuriatingly calm, just like the eye of a hurricane. He also was invariably right.
“And what about you?” she asked hollowly. “Did my father scare you off, too?”
His answer was a small, cold smile that was packed full of ambiguity.
She decided it would be easier to live on some remote star than attempt to understand the men in her life.
Ten days later April walked into Hollis’s after lunch to find a circle of people awaiting her. They were standing under the store’s main chandelier, light falling down on them in shimmery teardrops.
Jesse was there, facing her father.
For once he wasn’t dressed in black. Dun-colored pants molded his hips and his shirt was a paler shade. His jacket was a darker brown. The effect was characteristically casual and surprisingly powerful. Or maybe it was just Jesse himself. He had a presence that couldn’t be denied. By the look on her father’s face, April could see he resented it.
“April.” Peter’s greeting was crisp.
Her eyes swept from him to Jesse. The others in the group looked at the ground, each other, or anywhere else.
“Detective Cawthorne here thinks he’s found out who’s responsible for the inventory leak.” His lips curled. “I didn’t realize he had continued with the investigation.”
April flushed. Her father’s words were a cool reprimand, entirely misplaced. She hadn’t seen Jesse at all. In fact, she’d despaired of him ever calling her again. Jordan has left Hollis’s with a simple, “Goodbye,” but Jesse had walked out without a word.
“She didn’t know.” Jesse’s voice was flat. “I took it upon myself.”
“Well, who is it?” April asked.
“You can all go back to work,” Peter told the others. They drifted away in disheartened groups of two and three, looking back at the three of them.
April turned to Jesse, baffled.
“Roger Norville.”
April had always heard that everything slowed down during moments of stress. That was the way she felt now.
“Roger Norville?” she repeated dully. “It can’t be Roger. He’s been with us for years. He never complained when he was moved to another department and he doesn’t have the authority to purchase—” She cut herself off. He didn’t need the authority. The invoices had been initialed by both April and Jordan. “Why? How?” she asked, feeling responsible.
“Roger resented Jordan’s meteoric rise,” Jesse explained. “He probably even resented you, the boss’s daughter.”
April glanced unhappily at her father. His flinty eyes were focused on some distant point. Roger had been her father’s choice for store manager – before his failings in management had been discovered. Before Jordan…
“There’s something else, April.”
She turned back to Jesse, not liking the sound of his voice. Involuntarily she braced herself.
“Roger wasn’t in this alone. He shipped the inventory to your warehouse, but there was an employee at the warehouse who helped him pick it up.
She nodded slowly.
“And sometimes the inventory was picked up by a Richards and Richards truck.” Jesse hesitated. “Your friend Rob signed for it.”
“No!”
“It’s true, April,” Peter said stiffly. “I checked with Richard and Richards this morning. The inventory was signed for, but never put on the shelves. Rob diverted it, and he and Rogers sold it at a cut rate to smaller stores in California, Arizona and other places. They made a tidy fortune on it.”
April head was spinning. Her stomach quivered. Not Rob! Not her friend. Then she remembered the night she’d met Rob at Jake’s. Roger had been there looking for someone. “How much did we lose altogether?” she asked in a strained voice.
“Our best guess is about $375,000. I’ve got accountants checking every single order – and every extra invoice that we’ve found.”
There was an unreal quality to her father’s pronouncement, April thought, as if it was happening to someone else. She wanted to die. She’d brought Jordan in because he’d been good. She hadn’t even considered employee resentment. Why didn’t I see it? April lashed out at herself. Why didn’t I know? She’d been blind to everything because she’d wanted Jordan to work for her, she’d wanted him to succeed.
If she was honest with herself, she could admit it was because of Jesse, too. Jordan had been her link to him. To Eden’s father.
A headache crashed behind her eyes. The silence weighed on her heavily. Her father checked his watch and announced, “Since this has been resolved, I’m flying back to Seattle this afternoon.” His gaze alighted
briefly on Jesse. “I suspect I should thank you. Instead I’ll issue you a warning: your superior knows that I requested you be taken off this case. I called Lieutenant Rothchild myself. I also told him I thought it was a breach of professional ethics for you to be investigating your own brother. Maybe you know this already. If so, I’d like to know why you went against direct orders.”
“Dad!” April was horrified.
“Let him answer, April.”
Jesse said clearly, “Jordan stood to lose a lot if the wrong conclusion was drawn. I didn’t trust anyone else in the department to dig deeper if a perfect scapegoat was offered up on a platter.”
Peter shook his silvered head. “That’s incredibly arrogant,” he declared.
“Rothchild thinks so, too.” Jesse shrugged dismissively.
Injustice swept through April like a hot storm. “Dad,” she began in a shaking voice.
He turned swiftly, cutting her off before she’d even formed the words in her mind. “Roger’s being questioned by the police about this embezzlement. So is Rob. Roger was bonded. Check with the insurance company and find out our recourse if he should plead guilty or be indicted. Let me know as soon as possible.”
He strode away quickly.
April turned blindly to Jesse. As if understanding her emotional needs, he clasped her hand. “Come with me.”
Her legs didn’t seem to be attached to her. They moved, but she didn’t feel them. He led her outside into an afternoon filled with high, gray clouds and a shrouded, white sun. There were people everywhere. The sidewalks teemed. April felt as if her life had been telescoped into this one moment. She wanted to turn into his arms and bury her face against his chest.
Jesse seemed to understand. Wordlessly he held her arm, guiding her in the direction of a small bistro where they were swallowed up by afternoon shoppers. April stared blankly around. “I have to get to work,” she said. “I said I’d be there this afternoon.”
“I don’t think you can work.”
“But employee morale,” she protested weakly. “I need to be there.”
“April, you wouldn’t be any good to anybody. Here. Sit down. I’ll get you a cup of coffee.” He urged her into a chair, but she resisted.
She met his gaze, her throat aching. “Could you take me home?”
Whatever he read in her eyes must’ve convinced him, because he nodded. They walked back to the car park. No Dodge Charger today, April realized distractedly as Jesse opened the door for her. This car was blandly white with no markings. A different car from the police motor pool.
The ride home was a blur. April felt ridiculous. She told herself she was overreacting. It wasn’t as if someone had been in an accident. Nevertheless she felt betrayed. A close friend had betrayed her, and it hurt her.
At the door, Jesse hesitated. “April, you look like death,” he said softly.
“Don’t leave,” she said when he moved to step back as the door opened. “Please.”
Jesse couldn’t refuse her, but had no wish to cross the threshold into her home. He sensed it was a mistake even as he held the door for her, inhaling her sweet, fresh scent.
She walked straight to the back of the house and he followed more slowly. Through swinging double doors she entered the kitchen. Its wooden floor shone dully. A small woven carpet lay in front of the sink. The room smelled of pine. The counters were light granite with a metallic subway tiled border.
Jesse held the doors open with both hands. He looked across the room at the gleaming stainless steel sink, the pendant lights hanging above the kitchen island, the metal pulls on the cabinets, and felt a sense of déjà vu. Money, the kind his family had never possessed, showed in the understated appointments of this decorator’s dream. He glanced at the room through the archway to his right; indirect lighting, paintings, a marble fireplace, crystal candlesticks, lush carpet.
April had seated herself on a stool at the island. The sun threw weak fingers of light through the paned window, striping the arm of her jacket and highlighting the curve of her cheekbone.
“I don’t know why I feel so awful,” she said.
“You’re in shock. You should be in bed.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I just need to pull myself together and go to work.”
“April, you just learned that people you trusted betrayed you. You feel terrible. Take it easy. Give yourself a little time.”
She pressed her hands to her mouth. “I just feel so helpless and angry. Why would Rob do that? Why? Why would he do that to me?”
“He didn’t do it to you. He did it for himself. Maybe he needed the money.” Restless, Jesse walked across the room, searching for a coffee pot. He turned to April whose eyes were huge with misery. “Let me make you a cup of coffee.”
“No, I’d rather have tea. Never really learned to drink it.” She climbed off the stool and opened the cupboard. Jesse’s hands gently closed over her shoulders; he pushed her back onto the stool, staring into her eyes.
“Go upstairs and lie down. It may only take a few minutes, but I guarantee you’ll feel better.”
She nodded.
“I’ll bring you your tea,” he added.
She marched upstairs, turning blindly toward her bedroom. She lay down on the bed, fully clothed, gazing up at the ceiling. When had Jesse become so gentle? So sensitive? She longed to curl up in the comfort of his arms and make the world stop for a little while.
A few minutes later she heard him hesitate on the landing. “I’m in here,” she said, sitting up.
It was strange to see him carrying a delicate china cup like some kind of rebel manservant. April smiled crookedly.
“What?” he asked, as she accepted the cup.
“Sit down,” she invited him, indicating a spot at the end of the bed. “I just never pictured you in this humble a role.”
He hesitated, then slowly sank down beside her. There was a space of about three inches between their thighs. April could see the taut muscles of his legs beneath his cotton pants. Jesse glanced around the room, his gaze narrowing on the highly polished chrome lamps. In the mirror April could see their reflections.
She drank the tea in silence. Each moment that passed seemed packed with tension. Jesse drew a sharp breath and said, “I think I should go.”
“Stay.” His gaze swung her way. April was amazed at her own forwardness. “I don’t want to be alone,” she added awkwardly. “Eden won’t be home for a few hours.” She got up and set the cup on the nightstand, then sat down again on the end of the bed. Jesse was frozen in rigid silence.
“Tell me about Jordan,” said April, breaking the spell. “What’s he doing now? I suppose he hates me.”
“Jordan’s working at a place called Touché. Have you heard of it? It’s in Old Town.”
April looked at him with interest. Old Town in downtown Portland had been undergoing renovation for the last few decades. Touché was smack-dab in the middle of dilapidated warehouses with broken windows, so extensive grill work had been put into the store as a theft deterrent.
“Is he happy there?” April asked.
“Reasonably so, I think.”
“I’m sorry about my father.” When Jesse didn’t respond, she added, “I hope I didn’t get you in trouble at work.”
“No more than usual,” he said dryly.
April darted a quick glance upward, meeting those lazy, golden eyes. His lashes were unfairly thick, she thought, his gaze uncomfortably direct. Her throat felt constricted. “It’s really silly of me to fall apart like I did.”
“Your color’s come back,” he said, his gaze dropping to her mouth.
She didn’t know how it happened. One moment they were staring at each other, the next she was wrapped in his arms, or he was wrapped in hers. Her heart beat in an excited, uneasy cadence.
He turned her gently toward him, until she was half sitting on him, her skirt billowing outward, covering his thighs. His mouth was near her ear; she could hear his unsteady
breathing.
“Tell me what you want, Princess.” His hands roamed sensually all up and down her back.
“I don’t know,” she moaned. Beneath her, she could feel the stirring heat of his masculinity pressing hard against her. Her mind spun backward. All too vividly she remembered loving him. His kiss. His touch. The consuming hunger.
His mouth found hers. His tongue made its way between her lips, probing possessively. Each loving thrust thrilled her. Her mind was a blank. She’d lived for this moment. Only this moment.
His heartbeat clamored against hers. Slowly he lay back, taking her with him. She was stretched out against him, her legs tangled with his, her mouth demanding as much as his.
He groaned deeply. One hand crept beneath her jacket, lightly brushing against her breast. It was so soft, so sweet that she responded instantaneously, her nipples tautening beneath the sheerness of blouse and bra.
April desire to move against him was so powerful that it shocked her. She’d had no other lover. Jesse, and the terrible guilt and trauma that have followed, had been enough. Rarely in all those years had she even been moved by romance. Her dates had been sporadic and entirely platonic. But now she hungered for Jesses like a starving woman, and it took all her willpower to lie still, to wait.
It was Jesse who gave in first. He dragged his mouth from hers in the same moment as he clasped her hips with his hands, bearing them down onto his straining rigidity. “April,” he groaned between clenched teeth.
His mouth found her ear. His tongue sent shock waves throughout her body. She moaned briefly and lay limply atop him, wanting so much, afraid to ask for it.
“Help me,” he urged, gently pushing her away.
She glanced at him blankly. His hands began undoing her buttons, one at a time. She was enraptured to see how his fingers trembled.
She could call a halt to this at any time, she knew. Jesse half expected it. The swift, deep glances that swept her face time and again told her so. But she was flushed with desire. Before he could finish removing her blouse, she slid her fingers around his neck, greedily bringing his mouth back to hers.
Somehow he managed to undress her. When he twisted away from her to remove his own clothes, she closed her eyes and drew a long, shuddering breath. She heard his belt drop, then the softer flutter of his shirt. Panic seized her. History was repeating itself.
