Make Me

by BETH KERY

  She hadn’t heard from Jacob all afternoon, but assumed they were still on for diner at seven thirty. There was still no sign of him in his bedroom suite when she went up to get ready. While she was in the shower, she reflected on everything that had transpired over the past month: starting a new job as an editor, upending her entire life and moving to a strange town, agreeing to write a screenplay with a world-renowned director . . .

  Meeting Jacob on that beach.

  She certainly was coming a long way in emerging from her shell of grief and shaking up her life. Even if Jacob decided to end their relationship tomorrow, he would have had a permanent effect on her.

  But she wouldn’t think about their relationship ending now. Not when she felt so invigorated about her life. Not when she was anticipating the evening with Jacob so hugely.

  She’d saved a new dress for tonight: a stunning green silk that fastened around her neck and left her shoulders and arms bare. She wore her hair down, adding some soft curl to the waves. When she examined herself in the mirror just before seven that evening, she smiled at the result. The color of the dress looked striking against her skin and hair. Her eyes shone with excitement. Her loose hair felt good, spilling down her back and sliding against her bare shoulders and upper arms. She felt sensual . . . sexy. She owed all that to Jacob’s influence.

  The sound of a door shutting in the distance got her attention. Was it Jacob, returning? A few seconds later, she heard another door shut quietly, and was pretty sure it was the one to his private bathroom. Her heart racing, she chose a pair of long, dangly gold earrings and finished her makeup. When she walked into the suite five minutes later, she thought she’d have to wait for him to finish showering. He was coming out of his bathroom at the same moment as her, however, looking freshly showered and devastating in a black suit and black striped tie. He glanced up and noticed her.

  “Hi,” she said.

  He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he approached, his gaze sliding down over her.

  “What? Why are you smiling like that?” she asked. She sounded breathless. His tiny, sexy smile and smoldering gaze had made her that way.

  He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a black leather box.

  “I was just thinking it was serendipity. I thought they’d look pretty with your hair, but I didn’t guess . . .”

  He faded off, shrugging, and handed her the box. Harper’s pulse began to throb at her throat as she opened the black Bulgari box.

  “Oh my God,” she muttered, stunned.

  “You don’t like them?” he asked. Guilt swept through her when she saw the flash of disappointment and worry on his face.

  “Are you kidding? They’re gorgeous,” she exclaimed. She looked down dazedly at the emerald pendant earrings. The oval drop stones were enormous—almost an inch wide at the base and glittering with inner fires. They looked like they’d come from the royal family’s cache or from the treasure chests of some Arabian prince.

  “Then put them on,” he said. She blinked and looked up. He’d come close, and he was wearing that deadly small smile again.

  “Jacob, I can’t,” she whispered, but he’d taken the box and was removing the earrings from their fastenings.

  “Of course you can. I got them specifically for you. They’re insured, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said, fluidly sidestepping the issue by focusing on a topic she hadn’t even thought of, as yet. He held the earrings up next to her face and hair. His smile grew slightly in smug satisfaction, but then he sobered.

  “What?” she wondered.

  His fingers touched her hair. Nerves along her neck danced with pleasure at the light caress. His gaze ran over her face. “You’re beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” she said shakily, her heart squeezing tight in her chest at something she read in his expression.

  “Put them on? For me?”

  Of course she couldn’t say no then. She came out of the bathroom a moment later wearing the earrings, her heart full in her chest. She beamed at him at the same time she shook her head in remonstrance.

  “I shouldn’t accept them. They must have cost you a small fortune,” she murmured.

  He leaned down, brushing his lips against her temple and spoke quietly near her ear.

  “It would have been worth a much larger one, to see that smile.”

  • • •

  The restaurant he took her to that night was in the Mission District and was called Geb. It served Mediterranean, Egyptian, and Moroccan fare. Because Jacob knew the chef-owner, they were given a prime spot on the terrace next to an outdoor stone fireplace. Thick palms and ferns surrounded their table, making Harper feel like they were the only couple dining in the exotic setting. The chef, a man by the name of Jason Savoy, came out to the table to greet Jacob and describe his favorites on the menu.

  The food was decadently good—rich and aromatic—and only added to Harper’s sensual mood. She couldn’t take her eyes off Jacob, finding him compelling and sinfully handsome in the firelight.

  She asked him about the status of his meeting with Lattice lawyers and the copyright claimant to the company he wanted to buy. He talked openly about the man’s claim, and ideas his legal team had for dealing with the issue. There wasn’t a hint of suspicion toward her in his manner. She recalled how he’d been much less worried about her coming into contact with the secretary of defense in his home than Elizabeth had been. The realization that he did trust her with confidences—with certain key things, anyway—heartened her.

  He wanted to know all about her meeting with Cyril and Ellie, and the progress on the film project. They were finishing their main course and laughing over one of Cyril’s many acerbic comments that afternoon, when a breeze ruffled the surrounding ferns. Harper shivered.

  Jacob stood and waved for her to get up from her chair, as well. “We’ll move the table toward the fireplace. It’s going to get down in the fifties tonight, and that dress doesn’t offer a lot of protection, does it?”

  She laughed at his heavy-lidded, appreciative stare at her breasts. She couldn’t wear a bra with the dress because of its cut, and the breeze had made her nipples tighten. He’d clearly noticed.

  She stood and together they scooted the table and their chairs toward the fire.

  “It’s nice that they have the fire lit. Labor Day weekend is usually pretty warm in San Francisco,” she said when they were seated again.

  “I called and asked Jason to light it when I saw the forecast,” Jacob stated matter-of-factly. He noticed her surprised look. He reached across the table to grasp her hand. “I know how much you like a fire.”

  “I do, you’re right,” she said, smiling as she looked into his eyes. The fire brought out the pinpricks of amber in them. He ran his fingertip across her palm, and she instinctively opened her hand, giving him free rein. They stared at one another for a stretched moment as he stroked her. A bubble of intimacy and security seemed to encapsulate them.

  “A fire means warmth,” she murmured, “but more importantly, it means safety.”

  His lambent stare went suddenly hard. His hand tightened on her wrist. “Why did you say that?”

  She blinked, his question and taut grasp jerking her out of her sensual trance.

  “Why did I say what?”

  He leaned forward, his manner intent. Angry. Hungry?

  “About the fire meaning warmth, but also safety?” he demanded.

  Her mouth fell open in disbelief. She snatched her hand from his hold.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked, utterly bewildered.

  He didn’t reply for a moment. He just studied her with that laser stare, like he was scanning her insides. Harper mentally squirmed under that harsh examination. Almost as quickly as his mood had shifted, he seemed to bring himself under control.

  “It was n
othing. I’m sorry,” he said, leaning back and smoothing his tie, his expression suddenly unreadable.

  “It wasn’t nothing. Jacob?” He looked up and met her stare coolly. An uncomfortable thought swept through her. “Did . . . did what I say remind you of that other woman?”

  “No. It’s not that.”

  He noticed her openmouthed, stunned state.

  “Harper, I’m with you. There is no other woman.”

  There was something about the way he said it, with such bone-deep, forceful confidence. Still . . . she’d seen that flash in his eyes when she’d asked about the other woman, like a window that was opened just for a moment before it was slammed shut again. She couldn’t fathom the enigma of him.

  “Jacob, what are you thinking right now?” Harper probed softly.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking first.”

  She blinked at his quick counter.

  “I’m thinking that you’re a puzzle I can’t work out.”

  He gave a small, incredulous laugh, his reaction unsettling her even more.

  “What?” she demanded.

  He looked up when the waiter arrived to clear their dinner dishes.

  “It just struck me as funny,” she heard him say quietly. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

  twenty-nine

  Twenty Years Ago

  They made a careful return to the front entrance of the cave, Jake guiding Harper step by step on where to stand and walk so as not to leave a trail. After they’d returned, he went back into the second cave and the cliff ledge to retrieve the clothing they’d left there before their dive. When he returned, Harper had pulled their extra shirts out of the pack.

  Once they’d dressed again in dry clothes, Jake insisted on checking Harper’s abraded wrists beneath the plastic bandages she wore. He was pleased to see the signs of Emmitt’s cruelty healing. He thought of suggesting that he doctor her again, cleaning the cuts in the waterfall and applying the ointment and bandages that he’d brought. It was a good excuse to touch her. But she stood close as he inspected her wrists, and he could smell her skin and the soap they’d used in the river, and his body was again reacting like it had a mind of his own. Instead, he gave her the ointment and bandages, and told her to go and wash and dress the cuts. When she returned, he’d steeled himself.

  “I’m going out for a little bit, just to look around,” he said.

  “Let me go with you. Please?” she added when she noticed his stern expression at her request.

  “I’ve got to sweep our trail from the river, just to make sure.”

  “But we were so careful coming back up!”

  “I know, but . . . if you come with me, it’ll just cause the problem all over again,” he stated in a rush of frustrated honesty.

  “Oh. You mean because of my lead feet,” she sighed, looking hopeless.

  “You’re getting better,” Jake offered, to ease the sting. She was looking around the cavern anxiously. The early morning sun no longer streamed into the opening between the rocks, making the large chamber shadowed and dark. He knew she was probably scared of being alone, but would never want to admit it.

  “If you want, I’ll build you a little fire. You can find a stick and toast some Pop-Tarts over it for our breakfast. But you’ve got to be real careful so they don’t burn or fall in the fire ’cause we can’t waste the food. Want to do it?”

  She nodded eagerly. He built a small fire in the stone enclosure he’d fashioned years ago when he first discovered the cave. He left satisfied that she was less anxious with something to occupy her.

  He returned after a twenty-minute scout, reporting to Harper that he saw no obvious indication that Emmitt was in the vicinity.

  They spent the afternoon holed up in the cave, talking nonstop the whole time. Jacob wouldn’t have believed he had so much inside him to say. Even though they came from very different worlds, they had their school life in common. They entertained each other by describing kids from school and who liked whom. They gossiped about their teachers. He listened with fascination to the activities of a city girl: going with her friends to the mall or to the movies, eating Thai or Italian takeout on Sunday afternoons and watching a movie with her parents, traveling around the DC area and suburbs for swim meets and lacrosse matches. He didn’t tell her he didn’t even know what lacrosse was.

  Despite their differences, he was happy to learn that kids in Georgetown weren’t all that different from kids in Poplar Gorge. There were nice ones, smart ones, jocks, populars, nerds, and loners. Then there were the crack babies and basket cases, names that mean kids called kids that just couldn’t seem to function in the world.

  “I know which ones you are,” Jake said at one point, standing to gather some sticks for the fire. He kept a stash of fuel in the cavern.

  “What do you mean?” Harper asked him from where she sat.

  “You’re a popular. And a brain. A nice one, too,” he added, ducking his head to hide his embarrassment.

  She laughed, and he thought her cheeks had turned pink.

  When he returned, he carefully laid some dampened twigs on the fire to keep it smoldering versus burning high. He was thinking of the animal scat he’d seen in the second cavern. He needed a good fire ready at a moment’s notice. He kept a pretty decent store of fuel in the cavern, but he’d still gather more before nightfall.

  “I think I know which one you are, too,” Harper told him smugly after several minutes, and he knew she was talking about the kinds of kids at school. His stomach sunk a little.

  “A loner?” he mumbled, averting his face as he tended the fire. He hoped she didn’t think he was a crack kid, given what she knew about where he lived and Emmitt’s many crimes.

  “Maybe a little of a loner. A little of a geek, too, but in a really good way. But mostly, you’re the one to rule them all.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, frowning. He laid the last twig and sat next to her.

  She laughed. “It’s from Lord of the Rings. You’re not evil, like the ring is in the book. I don’t mean that. I just mean you’re in a category all your own. You’re different. You’ll probably rule over all of us someday: populars, geeks, and jocks combined.”

  He thought she meant it as a compliment, but wasn’t sure. Maybe she was laughing at him.

  As the sun started to dip in the sky, Jake left the cave again to do a little reconnaissance and retrieve more wood. Harper looked relieved when he returned and said he hadn’t found anything of significance. She helped him stack the armful of wood he brought. For dinner, they shared a can of chicken noodle soup and a sleeve of saltines. Afterward, they drank cool water from a shared cup and continued talking.

  As it got darker, their voices gradually grew more hushed and their laughter died. By the time full night settled, they huddled around their tiny fire, and their conversation waned. Jake wondered what she was thinking as she watched the flames so soberly.

  “Jake?” she asked after a while.

  “Yeah?”

  “What’s going to happen to you? After we get to Barterton?”

  “I’ll go with you to the police station. Don’t worry. I’ll tell them the truth about Emmitt,” he said, staring at the glowing embers of the fire.

  “But . . . what then?” He could tell by the wariness of her hushed voice she hadn’t considered the question before.

  “I’ll go back and live with Grandma Rose.”

  “But I thought you said she was really sick, and they said you had to go with your uncle or into child services.”

  “That was when I was younger and couldn’t take care of myself,” he said dismissively, tamping down his anxiety over the topic. “I’m older now. I can take care of both myself and Grandma Rose.” She didn’t reply. His sideways glance told him she was worried. “They’ll let me stay with Gra
ndma Rose. Don’t worry.”

  “But what if they don’t?” she whispered. “You’ll have to do whatever the police tell you to do.”

  He shrugged. “I’ll run away, then. I’ll come live here, in the cave.”

  “But what about school and everything?”

  “Don’t worry about it, Harper,” he repeated shortly. Guilt immediately swooped through him for snapping at her, but he didn’t know what to say to make her not worry. He certainly didn’t have any good answers for her.

  He stood and went to his pack, returning with an apple. Neither of them spoke as he retrieved his multi-tool from his jean pocket, extricating the sharp, six-inch blade. The tool was a treasured prize he’d found and claimed after a particularly drunken, wild party at Emmitt’s after a vicious dogfight. He cut off a slice of apple and handed it to her. He cut a piece for himself, then for her again, trading off until only the core was left.

  “I’ll tell my parents about everything you did for me,” she said after she’d swallowed her last bite. “I’ll ask them to talk to the police and stuff, try to convince them to let you go stay with your grandma.”

  “Thanks,” Jake muttered. In truth, he hadn’t thought much about what would happen once he got Harper to the police. That had become the period at the end of the mission. He didn’t like to think about the fact that he didn’t have a home anymore, and that he’d possibly enter a world of strange adults and the courts and confusing, cold government organizations like Child Welfare Services.

  Increasingly, he didn’t like to think about the fact that once he got Harper to the police, her parents would soon be there to claim her and whisk her far off to Washington, DC, where he’d probably never see her again.