Who else did? Were some of the guys here clients of hers?
Was the sergeant?
Bryan had to scrub that image out of his head, praying that kickbacks were all Benton was getting from Jenna.
The waiter approached. Another kid. Was he one of Jenna’s students, too?
“Hi. I’m Richie and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you something to drink?”
The stiffest drink in the house probably wasn’t a smart thing to order given what they were going to be discussing.
“I’ll take a cola.”
“Very good.” The waiter turned but then spun around. “By the way, Coach just showed the tape of the state game. That last play you called was awesome right before you… well, you know.”
Bryan smiled thinly. Yeah he knew. Right before he’d blown out his Achilles, his ACL, and his college dreams. “What position do you play?”
“Tight end. Got a few schools looking at me.”
“Hey, good luck.”
“Thanks. I’ll be right back with that soda.”
Schools looking at him. Bryan had had that experience. Had gotten a couple of offers and been trying to decide between them when the sack had taken the decision out of his hands. Surgery and rehab hadn’t been worth it to the scouts. The offers had been pulled before he’d even come out of anesthesia.
So he’d fallen back on becoming an electrician like his father, and if it wasn’t as exciting as football, at least it was a steady job and he could run his own business. He wasn’t getting rich—he was hoping BeefCake, Inc. could help out in that area—but he’d been able to come up with ten grand when he’d needed to.
He and Jenna needed to come to some kind of understanding. She couldn’t carry on with this profession anymore. She had to see it wasn’t a good life for Trevor—hell, it wasn’t a good life for her. Hopefully, she had other skills she could fall back on, but if not, he’d find some way to pay for her to go back to school.
As long as he got to raise Trevor.
***
Jenna took a deep breath before opening the heavy glass door to Tosco’s, praying for the mental fortitude to do this. Everyone in town had to know what he’d accused her of by now. What he thought of her. Tongues would be wagging the moment she sat at his table. Memories would be dredged up, the whispers starting again.
Her teenage heartbreak had been a big scandal; the straight-A, class president was the last person who should have committed the sin of premarital sex, let alone gotten pregnant because of it. Her stellar resume and professional references had earned her the job at the high school; she didn’t need any new scandal undoing all the work she’d done for her reputation.
“Ms. Corrigan?” Sheila Brady opened the front door. Jenna had forgotten she worked here.
“Hi, Sheila.”
“There’s a guy waiting for you in the far corner.” All the awe of extreme puppy love accompanied those words.
Though, actually, Sheila was nineteen. Not exactly jailbait any longer, and if Bryan found her attractive —
Jenna shook herself. She was stalling.
“Thanks, Sheila.” Jenna straightened her shoulders and entered the restaurant.
“He’s really hot,” Sheila whispered more to herself than Jenna.
But Jenna heard. And, yeah, he was.
She had a few seconds to study him as she approached the table where he was studying the menu. Those black curls that’d been mussed during the game today were slicked back as if still damp from a shower, and the navy golf shirt he’d changed into was stretched just right across broad shoulders and the sculpted chest she hadn’t been able to forget from his run this morning. He was a big man, but not hulking. Good-looking. Was good with Trevor. It was a royal shame she hadn’t met him under better circumstances.
Her steps faltered. Maybe… Maybe they could start over. Maybe she could come clean tonight—not out him publicly and open him up to ridicule. They could laugh about the misunderstanding. He liked Trevor enough to offer to play football with him again tomorrow. Maybe they could—
No. He thought she was a hooker. And he’d hired her because he thought she was a hooker. The man hired hookers.
She had no clue why, but it didn’t matter how gorgeous he was on the outside, the inside didn’t reach her standards. And how funny was it that that word should come up again in relation to him?
No, Bryan wasn’t the man for her.
Then he looked up and Jenna’s breath caught. No sunglasses and that, plus the slow smile that spread across his face, made him even more gorgeous. She needed to have a serious discussion with her hormones.
He stood and met her at the chair opposite his, a mix of soap and Bryan that sent those damn hormones into Snoopy-dance mode. It was the first time she’d seen him without the glasses. His eyes were… gray? Light blue? It was hard to tell with the muted lighting of the Tiffany sconces and tea lights flickering on the table, but they didn’t seem to have any problems she could see that would necessitate sunglasses. Maybe he was sensitive to light.
Which was a shame. His eyes were as gorgeous as the rest of him. And they stared at her as if they could see through her.
Or her clothing…
He held out her chair. “You look beautiful.”
Jenna ran a hand down the mocha dress she wore, waiting for some comment about the tricks of her trade. Or just her tricks.
When he didn’t make it, she muttered a self-conscious, “Thank you,” and sat in the chair he held for her. He wasn’t behaving like a man with a hooker—not that she’d ever really considered the whats and wherefores such an interaction entailed, but she would’ve thought that pleasantries and dinners at nice restaurants weren’t part of the normal arrangement.
The waiter approached. Another of her past students. “Hey, Ms. C.”
“Hi, Richie. How are you?”
“Good. Going to check out a couple of colleges next week.”
“More scholarships?”
He couldn’t hide his grin and she didn’t blame him. “Yeah.”
“I told you you could do it.”
“I know. But you gave me the confidence.”
“You have the ability.”
She could feel Bryan’s eyes on her. Maybe he ought to put the glasses back on because his staring was a little disconcerting. So was the thought that he was probably trying to figure out if Richie was one of her clients as well.
Good lord. Richie and Jason were underage. Bryan really didn’t have a high opinion of her at all. More like the lowest anyone could have about another person.
She was so going to enjoy flinging it in his face.
“Thanks. So, um.” Richie put a basket of warm bread on the table. “Do you know what you want for dinner?”
Bryan cleared his throat. “Maybe she’d like something to drink first?”
Yup, very low. And he was transferring it to Richie.
“Actually, Richie, I’d love the veal parmigiana, a house salad, and I’ll take a glass of pinot with it.” She picked up the menu she hadn’t had the need to touch. Dad had loved Tosco’s. He’d brought her here on his custody nights.
“Okay. And Bryan? What can I get you?”
Bryan arched an eyebrow. Hmmm, with those glasses on she hadn’t known he could do that—or how devastating it made him look. Jeez. Was there nothing bad about this man?
Well, other than the fact that he hired hookers.
“I’ll take linguini with scallops, a salad, and another soda.” He handed Richie the menu without looking at him.
“Really, Bryan,” she said when Richie left, “you should give him a break. It’s his first job.”
“We’re not here to talk about Richie. We’re here to talk about Trevor.”
“Actually, we’re not. But I do need to talk—”
“Hi, Jenna.” Cal Mullins stopped by her table. “Don’t want to intrude, but I wanted to thank you for your help. My girlfriend and I are in a much better place thanks
to you.”
She’d helped them fill out the apartment application. “It’s my pleasure, Cal. I’m glad I could be of service.”
“I’ve given your name to a few of our friends. Hope that’s okay. I know we weren’t your usual clientele, but, like I said, you really helped us.”
“That’d be great. Most of my business is referrals so thank you for mentioning me.”
Cal looked over at Bryan. “Treat her right, man. The woman’s a gem.”
Jenna tried not to choke on the look that crossed Bryan’s face. She was going to have to come clean to him soon because if anyone else stopped by they could blow her cover and she wanted her pound of flesh.
Though Cal’s conversation could be taken a lot of different ways.
“You cater to couples?” Bryan asked once Cal had left.
Yup, he’d gone down the wrong one.
“Uh, yes. A lot of people need my services, and sometimes couples do, too.” Because Cal and Julie had met in an adult literacy class, but Bryan didn’t need to know that. She’d helped them with the apartment, some job applications, and even coached them for interviews.
“Is there anything else I ought to know before—”
“Before you pay me?” She plunked her elbow on the table and tapped her lips. “Let’s see. I could give you references if you want. Pretty much all of the football team, a few guys on the soccer team. Coach Leland hired me at one point, and then there’s the town council. At least half of them have used my services. Oh, and I have a standing arrangement with the local relocation service. They’re always referring new people to me.”
Because many of the kids moving into the area couldn’t meet the local school district’s stringent testing standards. She was usually extremely busy the entire month of June getting new kids ready for testing at the end of July.
Bryan slammed his soda onto the table. “I’m starting to think this isn’t the best place to have this conversation.”
“But we’ve already ordered.”
He pulled his credit card out of his wallet. “We need to move this discussion somewhere else. I have a feeling we’re not going to see eye-to-eye on this and I’d rather not cause a scene.”
She just couldn’t resist. “Fine by me. My place or yours?”
“Neither!”
People at several of the nearby tables turned around when Bryan practically yelled it.
“Uh, Bryan? Looks like a scene to me.”
Richie rushed over. “Is everything okay? Can I get you anything else?”
Jenna nodded at Bryan. Let him do his own dirty work. He hadn’t had any trouble doing it when it came to her.
“Bryan?”
Bryan looked at her, then at Riche.
He sighed. “We’re fine. Everything’s good. If you could get our meals, that’d be great.”
“Sure thing. Right away.”
Poor Richie ran off looking like a dog with his tail stuck between his legs.
“You know, that really wasn’t nice. It’s not Richie’s fault—”
“Jenna, can we talk about something else? I really can’t take any more of your client stories.”
She bit back a smile. “Okay, then. What do you want to talk about?”
“Tell me about Trevor.”
Her smile disappeared. “I’d rather not.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s none of your business.”
“You can’t honestly think that.” Bryan set an envelope on the table between them. “This kind of money makes him my business.”
She touched it. Ten thousand dollars. Not a fortune, but it’d go a long way to alleviating some of her stress and if she invested it right, could cover Trevor’s college.
But it didn’t give him any rights when it came to Trevor. She set her fork down and cleared her throat. “Actually, your offer didn’t include my son.”
“Your son? Doesn’t his father have any say in whether he’s in his son’s life or not?”
Yeah, he’d probably said, “Do me, baby,” or something equally as crude, but that didn’t give him any right to be in Trevor’s life.
If she could just find a man to be that father figure Trevor so desperately wanted and needed. Someone she could build a life with to give him the stability of a two-parent home, it might make the truth a little more palatable when she eventually told him.
Bryan stacked the butter patties on the plate in front of him, then did the same thing with the artisan bread slices, reminding her of Trevor. He’d been so good with Trevor today, and Trevor… He’d lit up like it’d been Christmas morning.
She owed Bryan for that. “Okay, fine. What did you want to talk about regarding Trevor?”
He set the last piece of bread squarely on top of the pile. “What… what does he like to do? Play with? Does he have a lot of friends?”
Strange questions to be coming from the man who’d hired a hooker. Maybe he was trying to come up with things for Trevor to do while they—
“He’s into building blocks. You know, those plastic ones that interlock? He likes trucks, too.” Though since his “tr”s came out sounding like “f”s, it could get a bit embarrassing when he saw one. She’d had to correct his pronunciation many times in public.
She answered Bryan’s questions about pre-school—probably trying to figure out when her son was out of the house so they could be alone.
A shiver raced up her spine. If she actually took him up on his offer like Cathy had suggested, they’d need more than the two and a half hours Trevor was in class.
Not thinking about that…
She told him about the Michael Report, grasping at anything to get that image out of her head. Turned out, Bryan had had a kid like that in his class—who’d been named Brian, also.
“You can’t imagine the phone calls my mom had to field over that. I got in so much trouble for things I’d never done until I wizened up and told her about him.”
“Trevor hero-worships this kid. Thinks because everyone’s afraid of him that he’s someone to be looked up to.”
“That’s where a dad comes in, Jenna. We can explain this whole testosterone thing in a way women can’t.”
Again with the dad thing. If she knew who the guy was, didn’t he think she would’ve tracked him down by now? Trevor did need a man in his life and she was working on that. But she wasn’t about to jump on the first guy without an aversion to kids to come along just to give Trevor a father. She wanted to fall in love. Be a real family.
“I could have a talk with the teacher if you’d like.”
She dropped her fork. Seriously, no amount of money would give Bryan that right when it came to her son. “Thanks, but I think I can handle it.”
“You just admitted you can’t.”
Nothing burned her up more than someone questioning her parenting skills. “You know, you’re right. Maybe this isn’t the best place to have this discussion.” Because right now she not only wanted to toss all that money in his face, she wanted to rip it to shreds too and toss it in with his damn linguini—
That Richie was just bringing out.
Great. Her window-of-leaving opportunity just closed.
“Here you go.” Richie took their plates from the serving tray, the clink of the dishware the only sound at their table. “Will there be anything else?” he asked, looking at Bryan.
Bryan scowled.
Oh, right. He thought she’d slept with Richie so Richie wasn’t one of his favorite people at the moment. “Thanks Richie. I think we’re good.”
“Okay, well if you need anything you know how to reach me.”
Another sentence Bryan took out of context.
This would be fun if he hadn’t shouted it from the rooftops in the police station. If no one knew, she could let it go on for a little longer.
But they did and she didn’t owe Bryan whatever-his-name-was anything.
She cut a slice of her veal. “What’s your last name, by the way? I think I
ought to at least know that.”
“I’m surprised you care.”
Ouch. Callous. “I do like to know who I’m doing business with.” Ball was back in his court. Too bad he didn’t realize they were playing a game.
He twirled some linguini on his fork. “It’s Lassiter.”
The veal got stuck in her throat. She reached for her water glass, but Bryan was out of his chair and patting her back before she could get it to her lips.
His lips were right beside her.
Bryan Lassiter’s lips.
“Jenna? You okay?”
No she wasn’t. She so really really wasn’t. But she waved him off, wanting him to back off so she could figure out what the hell she was going to do.
Bryan Lassiter had been four years ahead of her in school. She hadn’t known him personally, but she’d heard about him. Everyone had heard about Bryan Lassiter.
Because Bryan Lassiter had been not only the star quarterback, homecoming king, and class president, but he’d been the town’s resident dreamboat. Who’d been known for one thing in particular.
And right then, Jenna knew. She knew.
Bryan Lassiter had been known for his eyes—his violet eyes.
Just like Trevor.
Chapter Ten
Jenna had tossed her napkin on the table, discarding the thought of forking over her maxed-out credit card for her portion of the meal because Mr. Dreamboat could pay for the dinner that would never have been necessary if he hadn’t made his asinine assumption in the first place, and half-ran out of the restaurant, the patrons’ stares and conversations trailing after her. The rest of the trip home, however, was a blur.
Bryan thought he was Trevor’s father.
She locked her front door behind her and dashed up to her bedroom, trailing her clothing all the way up the stairs, wanting to shed tonight like a lizard shed its skin because she was feeling just as slimy.
He couldn’t be Trevor’s father. Mindy would have remembered him. Anyone would have remembered Bryan. He’d been the stuff of every girl’s fantasy. No wonder he’d worn the sunglasses. It made sense now.
But what hadn’t made sense was that Mindy hadn’t been living—or stripping—in town four years ago. She’d been fifty miles away so the possibility of running into him was remote at best.
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