by Kate Hewitt
“Deserve a second chance? Some people think they don’t.”
She shrugged, discomfited. “I don’t know. I mean, what kind of ex-cons are we talking about?”
He kept his gaze on the phone as he answered her. “All kinds. Theft. Drug dealing. Armed assault.” He thumbed one last button. “Murder.”
“And are there repeat offenders? I mean—”
“It’s not always pretty, if that’s what you’re asking. I’ve had a little bit of trouble.” He spoke into the phone, and then glanced at her. “Your taxi will be here in five minutes.”
*
Five minutes was a hell of a long time, Jaiven thought grimly as he waited with Louise in his front hallway. She looked both sad and confused, but he wasn’t about to enlighten her anymore.
I wish I understood you.
She wouldn’t have said that if she’d known the truth, Jaiven acknowledged grimly. She wouldn’t be looking at him with those big, hazel eyes shimmering with sadness if he told her about his time with a street gang, his prison sentence, the fact that he’d killed a woman. No, she’d be running a mile in the opposite direction, screaming all the while.
And so really it was better this way. Better for Louise, definitely, and better for him. He didn’t need to see the disgust and condemnation in her face when he came clean. He knew there was no way he could make up for what he’d done, who he was.
And if part of him actually wanted to be understood and accepted, hell, even loved, then too bad.
“Taxi’s here,” he said gruffly, and opened the door for her. He caught the lemony scent of her shampoo as she walked by him, and he almost reached for her. Almost grabbed her, and begged her to admit that she still wanted him.
And that worked out so well before.
“Goodbye, Louise,” he said quietly, and when he saw she’d got into the cab he shut the door.
Chapter Ten
THE FOLLOWING FRIDAY after she’d gone to Jaiven’s, Louise got a call from Chelsea. It was the afternoon, and she’d just finished a tutor meeting. The sun was shining, the cherry trees were in full blossom and she was considering walking through the park on the way home.
“Have you learned anything more about Harlow?” she asked with the now-familiar leap of her heart into her throat. She’d already emailed Nora and Addison and told them what she’d learned from Chelsea, and that she hoped to have more information soon.
She hadn’t heard anything from Jaiven.
“No, I’m not calling about that,” Chelsea answered, her tone breezy. “I’m calling because I want to invite you over to dinner tomorrow night, at my place.”
“Dinner at your apartment?” Louise asked. She hadn’t actually been to Chelsea’s apartment before. They’d been getting closer, yes, but not that close. Yet.
“Yes, Alex and I have been meaning to have you over. A little dinner party. It’ll be fun.”
Her sister still sounded just a little too light about the whole thing, making Louise wonder just what she had planned. But then she decided she was being too suspicious, and she agreed. She didn’t have any plans for Saturday night. What a surprise.
She spent Friday night doing her usual, marking essays with Mallow on her lap and watching her secret vice, bad reality TV.
Lying there, stroking her cat and half watching several people compete in the hairstyling stakes, she realized, with some surprise, that she was almost content. Not exactly brimming with joy, but she recognized that she’d built a life for herself, and it was, in its own way, a good one.
See? You don’t need Jaiven.
And just like that her fragile little bubble of happiness burst, revealing the need underneath. It had been nearly a week since she’d last seen him.
Letting out a gusty sigh, Louise clutched Mallow to her and closed her eyes. What if things had been different? What if Jaiven hadn’t tried to humiliate her; what if he’d told her he cared? What if she’d told him the same, had been brave enough to take that risk?
Thank God you didn’t, because now you know what kind of man he really is.
That was the voice of reason, and yet she didn’t buy it anymore. She couldn’t define Jaiven by a single act, and one he clearly regretted. Yet he seemed to define himself by it. She thought of what he’d said when she’d last seen him: I know I’m not good enough for you.
Did she believe that? Could she really equate Jaiven’s behavior with Jack’s, even if her reaction had been the same? Louise hugged her knees to her chest, her mind seething with questions. Wondering if she possessed the courage to try again with Jaiven, to dig deeper into what drove him, what made him the man he was.
A man who had understood her in a way no one else had, who had made her feel beautiful and sexy and bold. Who had, in a terrible rage, humiliated her. Could she reconcile that? Could she risk her heart, her whole self, again?
With another sigh she flicked off the TV and piled the essays on the coffee table. It was past eleven, and she’d spent far too much of the evening thinking about Jaiven. Again.
Saturday morning was devoted to her usual household chores. By the afternoon she realized she had nothing she wanted to wear to dinner with Chelsea and Alex, and so she hit the shops on Madison Avenue, trying not to remember how Jaiven had taken her to that ritzy boutique, how he’d made love to her in the dressing room.
It was pretty hard not to remember something like that.
Still, she tried, and she spent a week’s salary on an LBD that was just a little bit on the daring side, at least for her. It was made of soft jersey and it clung to all her curves and showed quite a bit of cleavage, as well. She wondered just who she was trying to impress, and then realized she wasn’t trying to impress anyone.
She just wanted to feel beautiful, and Jaiven had shown her that in a dress like this—or in nothing at all—she was beautiful, to him. And to herself. No matter what had happened later, she couldn’t forget that. She didn’t want to.
She splurged on a pair of heels that made her legs feel endless and didn’t actually hurt her feet. That night she hummed as she got dressed, her mood lifting just a little from where it had been in the Dumpster.
See, she told herself, you can get over Jaiven.
And yet she was still thinking about him.
She left her hair loose and wavy and did her usual lipstick and mascara routine before heading over to Chelsea’s apartment.
Chelsea met her at the door, looking glamorous as always and enveloping her in a cloud of expensive-smelling perfume.
“Louise.” She stepped back with a nervous smile that had Louise smiling back uncertainly. Something seemed off.
“Alex is cooking Dominican food,” Chelsea said. “And guess who else is here?”
“Who else,” Louise repeated warily, and then from the kitchen a familiar form emerged. Wearing jeans and a button-down shirt, a beer bottle tilted to his wryly curving lips.
“Hey there,” Jaiven said.
Louise just gaped, her mind spinning like a hamster on a wheel, trying to figure out where to go from here. Then Chelsea jumped into the breach.
“Louise, did you meet Jaiven at our engagement party? He’s one of Alex’s oldest friends.”
“I—” Louise began, stopping blankly, only to have Jaiven stick out his hand for her to shake.
“Jaiven Rodriguez. Nice to meet you.”
Limply she shook his hand, felt his fingers slide across and then tighten on hers. “Louise Jensen,” she said, her voice not sounding like her own at all.
Was Jaiven actually going to pretend they hadn’t met? Hadn’t…
Okay, stop right there.
“So,” Chelsea said, bustling into the living room. “Let me get you a drink. Seltzer? Soda? Wine?”
“Wine,” Louise answered. Definitely wine. Lots of wine.
Jaiven took a step toward her. “I didn’t know about this, either,” he told her in a low voice. “That is, until I showed up and they told me they’d invited you, too.
”
“What is this, a blind date?” she muttered. “A little late for that.”
“A little,” Jaiven agreed, and she couldn’t tell a thing from his tone. Did he find this funny? Irritating? Or excruciating, as she was afraid she was going to find it?
She glanced at Chelsea, who was still getting her drink before turning back to Jaiven and saying under her breath, “So you pretended you’d never met me?”
“I thought that was what you’d want me to do.”
And, Louise admitted, she supposed it was. If she and Jaiven admitted they knew each other, Chelsea would put two and two together and come up with about twenty-seven. And she’d be right.
But pretending she didn’t even know Jaiven after all the things they’d done together—well, if she pulled that off, she deserved an award.
“Here we are.” Chelsea came back with a large glass of red wine, which Louise took with a murmured thanks. This was going to be, she feared, a very long evening.
*
Jaiven watched Louise down half her wine in one go and felt a stab of sympathy. He was guessing she felt the way he had fifteen minutes ago, when he’d arrived and Alex and Chelsea had told him who the fourth guest was.
By the time Louise had arrived he’d had a few minutes to get used to the idea, but she was clearly still reeling.
She looked good though, he thought, unable to keep his gaze from roving—circumspectly, or at least he hoped—over her. She wore a clingy black dress that showed off her generous curves to perfection, and her calves looked long and curvy too, in sheer black stockings. And of course there were the glasses. Those chunky black frames got him every time. Hell, he needed another drink.
He went back into the kitchen, where Alex was stirring a dish of rice and red beans, a beer by his elbow.
“Can I have another one of those?” he asked, pointing to the beer, and Alex nodded to the fridge.
“Help yourself.”
He did, tossing the cap into the trash and leaning against the counter as he watched Alex cook. A few months ago he wouldn’t have believed this cozy little scene: Alex in the kitchen, smiling and stirring a pot of rice; Chelsea in the other room, chatting and laughing. Both of them looking so damn happy.
Being there with them, Jaiven had started to feel a restless ache of longing for the same kind of cozy domesticity. The same kind of easy happiness.
He’d never even thought to want it before, and the irony of it was that now that he did, he knew he couldn’t have it. Not with anyone, and definitely not with Louise.
His glance slid from Alex to Louise in the other room; her arms were folded, one hand clutching her glass of wine and the other holding onto her elbow, just as she’d been when he’d first met her. Holding herself together.
Watching her, he felt that ache of longing intensify, spread through his body with a physical pain. He missed her so much. He wished, oh, how he wished, things had been different. If he hadn’t given in to his anger and hurt that night, maybe they would be dating now. Maybe he’d have the courage to tell her the truth about himself. And maybe she would have accepted it.
Fantasies, all of it, Jaiven knew, from beginning to end. This was the only way anything could have played out between them. His past had seen to that. His own actions had defined and condemned him more than once.
“What do you think of Louise?” Alex asked, his voice low enough that the women in the other room couldn’t hear. Even so Jaiven cringed inwardly. He’d pretended he had never met Louise because he figured that’s what she would want. She wasn’t about to admit they’d had a fantasy sex fling, was she? And Jaiven couldn’t see her stumbling through some stilted explanation about where or how they’d made each other’s acquaintance.
But it soured his gut now to pretend to everyone that he hadn’t known her at all. It felt more than a lie; it felt like a rejection. A dismissal of who they’d been to each other. Who he was.
Which was how it should be.
“She seems nice enough,” he told Alex with a shrug. “But I didn’t think you were serious about the blind date thing.”
Alex grinned mischievously. “Why not?”
“You said she wasn’t my type.”
“I’m not sure you have a type, except to sleep with. And Louise is more of a stick-around situation.”
“But you know I don’t stick around,” Jaiven pointed out. He wasn’t about to get into how he might be changing his position on that point; it didn’t matter anyway. “And I really hope you’re not going to start that sad I-want-everyone-to-be-as-happy-as-me BS.”
“Well…” Alex began, laughing, and Jaiven shook his head.
“You know where you can put that.”
“Hey, there are ladies present.”
Jaiven rolled his eyes. “I bet Louise would tell you the same thing. I bet she’s sick of hearing it from Chelsea.”
Alex arched an eyebrow. “You think so?”
“She doesn’t take crap from anyone.”
“And you know that how, since you just met her?”
Jaiven shrugged and looked away. So this evening was proving to be a little trickier than he’d initially thought. “Just a guess,” he muttered, and drained his beer.
They joined the women in the living area for drinks as Alex’s rice dish simmered, and predictably Alex and Chelsea took the chairs so Jaiven and Louise were stuck together on the sofa.
They were so ridiculously predictable, Jaiven thought with an inward grimace. Why did people who’d found their soul mates immediately try to help everyone else find theirs? His brother had tried to hook him up with some nice Dominican girls, and had finally stopped when Jaiven had told him bluntly that he was only interested in women for sex.
He sneaked another glance at Louise. She looked beautiful in that clingy dress, but also vulnerable. Her eyes were so dark and wide, and the curve of her cheek was so round, her skin so soft, that it made him want to reach out and touch her. Comfort her.
“So we thought of bringing you guys together,” Chelsea said, “because Louise might need your shipping expertise, Jaiven.” She smiled expectantly, and Jaiven stilled, his second beer halfway to his mouth.
Shipping expertise? Of course. The whole Treffen thing. How were Chelsea or Alex to know that Louise had already asked for his help?
Since he couldn’t admit that she had, he sat through ten minutes of explanations, and Louise managed a few stilted sentences about this Harlow woman, all the while not quite looking at him. She was so obviously worried that Chelsea was going to guess something was up.
Not your problem, he told himself, except that he knew that it was. He cared about Louise, whether he wanted to or not. Whether she wanted him to or not. And even though he knew it didn’t make a damn bit of difference, he couldn’t keep from feeling it. From wanting to help her, protect her, comfort her.
What a joke.
*
Louise felt as stiff and tense as a board as she sat on the sofa, her thigh six inches from Jaiven’s, and tried to make small talk with her sister and her fiancé.
Talk about purgatory.
Or maybe even hell, because all her energy was taken up with awareness of Jaiven and trying to suppress the longing she had to move closer. To slide her hand along the taut muscle of his thigh. Experience just a tiny bit of the ease and closeness Alex and Chelsea so obviously had. With Jaiven.
Ridiculous.
She forced herself to meet Jaiven’s eye—almost—as she told him—again—about Harlow and her internship with Treffen, Howell, and Smith. Listened as Alex suggested Jaiven should look into where the yacht had gone. Nodded as Jaiven said—again—that he would.
“You’ve heard of JR Shipping, of course,” Chelsea said to Louise, and she nodded mechanically. “Jaiven founded it when he was only nineteen years old.”
“Twenty, actually,” Jaiven corrected, his voice toneless. “But I doubt Louise is interested in that.”
Actually, she was. More and mo
re she realized she was interested in getting to know this man who was so much more interesting and complex than she’d ever imagined.
No, no, no. Don’t go there. You can’t go there.
That message, Louise decided, was not being received by her brain.
Or maybe your heart.
“I think I read that somewhere,” she told Jaiven. Maybe on her frantic internet search when they’d first met. “Didn’t you start with just one van?”
“Actually, I started as a messenger boy with another shipping company,” he replied. His voice was easy but his jaw was a little tight, making Louise wonder what was going on inside his head. What the whole story might be. Jaiven Rodriguez, she was coming to realize, had secrets. “Then I decided I could do better on my own.”
“And you obviously did.”
He shrugged, seeming almost dismissive of his own success, which made Louise wonder some more. Jaiven was so obviously a self-made man, a self-made millionaire, and yet he didn’t seem particularly proud of his accomplishments. A man like me. Was he still stuck in the past?
Wasn’t she?
Chelsea and Alex kept the chitchat going a little longer, with both Jaiven and Louise making murmured noises when appropriate. Louise was semiamazed that her sister at least couldn’t guess that something was up.
Then, as she helped her clear the first course, she realized her sister had got rather the wrong end of the stick.
“All right, it’s clear you don’t like him,” she hissed as she dumped plates into the sink, “but you could at least be polite.”
“I—what?” Louise stared blankly.
“Jaiven,” Chelsea whispered. “What do you have against him?”
“Umm…nothing,” Louise stammered. “I’m not… Why do you think I don’t like him?”
“You won’t even look at him.”
“Oh. Well…” Her mind blanked and she just stared at her sister helplessly.
“Have you turned into a snob?” Chelsea demanded.
“A snob?” Louise repeated in disbelief. “How could I, considering where we came from?” Trailer park trash would be putting it nicely.
