It had been a long time since she'd felt this comfortable in a public place. Granted, her exposure was somewhat limited. She was hardly alone. The wedding party had all but taken over the small restaurant. And besides, with all of Cindy's friends from the probation department and Ted's friends from the police force, how much safer could she have been?
Her gaze shifted across the room to Jake Hayes. He was the only stranger and the only one there who made her uneasy. However, the reason he made her feel uncomfortable had nothing to do with the fact that he was a stranger.
She thought about her awkward performance at the wedding rehearsal and cringed. Why had she acted like that—so cold and unfriendly? And why was she so awkward? It wasn't as though she'd never caught a man's attention before. She'd dated often in college and would even go so far as to say she may have fallen in love a time or two, or at the very least, experienced several episodes of very ardent "like."
Of course that had been before she'd realized just how vulnerable love made a woman, before she'd learned how emotions could be used against you. That had been before Blake.
So instead of thinking about love, she had decided to focus on a career. It wasn't as though she'd started out looking for a career in broadcasting. After graduation, her focus had been on establishing a counseling practice and expanding her patient base. When she'd agreed to do a quick guest appearance on a local morning-radio program it had been to promote a new counseling hot line for teens. She wasn't sure why, but she'd been a natural behind the microphone and soon calls began coming in to the station for her. Dear Jane and "Lost Loves" had grown from there. It had all happened so fast she really hadn't thought about where the show was going or what the potential was—that is, until Blake Murray came into her life.
It was at a local broadcasters' awards dinner almost four years ago—her first—and "Lost Loves" had been up for L.A.'s Best Talk Radio. Winning had been a thrill, but meeting Blake had changed her life. Tall, handsome, charming and full of self-confidence, he came at her with both barrels and she hadn't been able to take her eyes off him. They became inseparable from that moment on.
As the manager of a small radio network, Blake had been a strong supporter of her radio show and she'd been thrilled when he'd shown an interest in promoting her career. But even beyond that, he had a way of looking at her that made her feel as though she were the only woman in the world. She had thought it was love she'd seen in his eyes. What a dope! It hadn't been love—it had been dollar signs.
To Blake, she must have looked like an innocent, ripe for plucking. He'd swept her off her feet with talk of building their life together. Thinking about it now, she honestly couldn't remember which had come first, the marriage proposal or the partnership proposal.
Blake had been concerned that the local radio network that broadcast "Lost Loves" wasn't doing enough for her, that they were taking advantage of her and holding her back. She needed someone to look out for her interests, to steer her career in the right direction, someone who cared about her, who had her best interests at heart. He had told her she deserved the best and he was going to see to it that she got it.
Kristin shook her head. How foolish she had been. She realized hindsight was always twenty-twenty, but how could she have ignored all the warning signs? How could she have let herself be taken in?
Only she knew why. That was what love did to her—it made her blind and stupid and made her forget all about common sense. That was a lesson she'd had to learn the hard way. Back then she'd been too starry-eyed, too much in love to see what was so painfully obvious now.
Even though she knew things were moving fast, she'd accepted when he'd asked her to marry him. It was only by coincidence that she'd stumbled across those papers on his desk, those papers dated weeks before they'd even met, papers outlining his plan to negotiate a merger with a national radio network. Of course, the merger was dependent upon him acquiring control over "Lost Loves" and control over Jane Streeter and her career.
She shuddered. It had been a lie from the very beginning—the romance, the relationship, the proposal. He'd set her up and she'd never seen it coming. Like a fool she'd trusted him, believed him when he said he loved her, when he said he wanted to help. But Blake's idea of helping her had been helping himself. He had set his sights high, and Jane Streeter and "Lost Loves" had been his ticket to the big time.
It hadn't exactly been her finest moment. The truth had been a shock, but she had needed a lightning bolt like that to shock her back to her senses. She had allowed her feelings to blind her to the truth and she should have known better. It had been a bitter pill to swallow to find out that the man she loved had cared more about what she could do for him than he did about her. But somehow she'd gotten through it. It had been a painful lesson, but one she would never forget. She wasn't the kind of woman who could fall in love; it was simply too dangerous. It made her lose too much of herself, made her defenseless and left her too vulnerable. Love was just too risky for her. She would never allow her heart to rule her head again.
She took another sip of wine and watched her sister, feeling a swell of emotion in her chest. Cindy had warned her it wasn't fair to swear off all involvements simply because of one failed relationship, and maybe she was right. Maybe the day would come when she would feel safe enough or confident enough to take a stab at love again. But that time hadn't come yet and as Dear Jane, she had listened to so many sad stories she wasn't sure it ever would.
"Care to make a request?"
Kristin stirred herself from the unpleasant memories and looked up, surprised to see that Ted and Jake had moved from the restaurant into the lounge.
"You're going to serenade us?" she asked, smiling up at Ted.
"Not yet, but I think after another couple of beers…" Ted let his words drift, then nodded toward the bar. "What can I bring you?"
Kristin shook her head. "I've had my limit."
"Come on," he prompted with an impatient wave of his hand.
"I don't dare," she confessed. "Another drink and I just might want to try my luck at darts again."
Ted's hand shifted to a gesture of surrender. "Enough said." Turning to Jake, he raised an eyebrow in question. "Best buddy, name your poison."
"Designated driver, remember?" Jake said, lifting his glass. "I've been on mineral water for the last two hours."
Ted shuddered. "I don't see how you can drink that stuff."
"Hey, I'm not going to risk getting pulled over," Jake told him, giving him a sly look. "You know what those L.A. cops are like."
Ted considered this for a moment, then spun around and shouted to the bartender. "Another mineral water for my friend here."
"Do you mind if I sit down?" Jake asked.
When Kristin looked up, Jake was smiling at her and she felt herself becoming stupidly awkward. "Oh, s-sure."
"Turned out to be quite a party," he said, gesturing to the group and Ted weaving his way toward the karaoke stage.
"Quite a party," she agreed. Just then Cindy and Dana broke into another song. "And quite loud too."
He nodded and took another sip of water. It was really too loud for conversation, which was fine with her. She wasn't sure what to say to him anyway. She'd been so rude earlier she was a little surprised he was willing to speak to her at all.
It took a little concentration but she forced herself to focus on Cindy and Dana as they mugged it up onstage, but there wasn't a moment she wasn't aware of Jake beside her. She knew every time he took a drink, every time he laughed, every time he turned to look at her.
Why was she so supersensitive where he was concerned? He was a longtime friend of Ted's so it was obvious he wasn't the type of stranger she needed to be wary of. So why not relax and just enjoy herself? He was another member of the wedding party—no more, no less.
But when she glanced at him as Ted stepped up onstage and joined Cindy and Dana in their song, he was smiling at her and she felt her heart leap to her throat.
"I'll be right behind you," she called back.
He smiled at her and she felt her throat close off again. She quickly turned away in an effort to avoid the danger of any further conversation. She concentrated instead on Ted and Cindy as they entertained everyone with their best Sonny and Cher impersonation while murdering the song "I Got You Babe!"
Despite all the laughter and good feelings, Kristin felt herself becoming angry and frustrated. He was there. Him. That nameless, faceless stranger who had stolen her freedom, and it just wasn't right. As hard as she tried, she couldn't stop thinking about him. This should be one of the happiest times in her life. Her only sister was getting married. Cindy had found the man she loved and they were beginning a wonderful life together. Nothing should be more important and nothing should get in the way. Yet, there was something—someone who threatened to take center stage. The poison that touched her life touched theirs as well, and made her the angriest of all.
From her peripheral vision she was aware when Jake turned and looked at her, and felt a surge of frustration. How much longer was this going to go on? How much longer was she going to greet every new man she met as if he were him, as if he were the stranger who knew her only as Jane Streeter, who had muscled his way into her life and made it a living nightmare?
Chapter 3
Kristin leaned back against the chair. The last twelve hours had been a glorious blur of flowers, music, tears and wedding vows. It had been a beautiful ceremony, having gone off without a hitch, and with the reception in full gear now, she was ready to relax.
"I know who you are."
The whispered voice in her ear had Kristin's blood turning to ice. Frozen in fear, the champagne flute slipped from her hand, landing on her dinner plate and shattering into a hundred tiny pieces.
"Wha—wha," she croaked, but her mouth was too dry for words to form.
"Oh my God, I am so sorry," Jake said, quickly reaching for a napkin and stopping the stream of wine before it found its way to her dress. "I'm such an idiot. I didn't mean to startle you."
Somehow Jake's voice penetrated the dizzying ring in her ears, silencing the roar. "W-what did you say?"
Jake pushed the debris of broken glass to one side and sat down on the chair beside hers. With the dinner over and the dancing having just begun, the table was empty, except for the two of them.
"I feel terrible," he confessed. "Are you okay?"
"N-no."
Jake's forehead creased in concern. "You're not? What can I do? Can I bring you something?"
"No—I mean, yes," she stammered.
"What," he asked anxiously, reaching a hand out to hers. "Tell me what you want—I'll get it."
"No," she said, giving her head a shake, trying to regain her composure. "I don't want anything."
"How about a drink? Maybe some more champagne?"
"No, I don't want anything to drink," she insisted, pulling free of his hand. "Y-you said…you said you knew who I was. What did you mean?"
Jake pulled his hand back into his lap and felt heat crawling up his neck. Maybe talking to her hadn't been such a good idea after all. He was still having trouble believing all this, was still reeling from learning who she really was. Kristin Carey was Jane Streeter—his Jane Streeter. Dear Jane herself! What were the odds of the two of them showing up at the same wedding at the same time, let alone her sister marrying his best friend? They had to be astronomical—off the charts! The situation seemed almost too impossible to be true, and yet he knew that it was. There was no denying that voice.
That voice! It was unmistakable. The only thing that surprised him was that he hadn't figured out her identity for himself.
"Oh, that," he said with a dismissing gesture. "I just mean that I knew…you know…about…"
"About what?" she demanded, pushing her chair away from the table.
"A-about the radio show," he stammered, feeling a little as he had when he was ten years old and sent to the principal's office for having poured food coloring in the urinals at school. "You're…you're Dear Jane."
She leaped to her feet. "How did you know?" she demanded. "Have you been following me?"
"No, of course not." He rose slowly. He wasn't sure what he'd expected her reaction would be, but this certainly wasn't it.
"Then I demand you tell me how you found out," she insisted. "I want to know how you found me."
"Jane—" He stopped himself, confused and flustered. "I mean, Kristin. Please, sit down. I didn't mean to upset you."
He reached out, hoping to help ease her back onto the chair, but she yanked violently away.
"I am upset and I want you to tell me how you found out."
He drew in a deep breath, utterly and completely baffled by what was happening. Somehow, someway, he'd taken a sudden turn into the Twilight Zone. What other explanation could there be?
"Look," he said carefully, using a voice he hadn't used since he'd been a cop on the street. "Please, just sit down. We'll talk."
When she hesitated, glancing for just a second at the chair beside her, he took that as a sign to move.
"Here," he said, pulling the chair close and holding it for her. "Sit, please. I feel terrible. I didn't mean to upset you."
She slowly lowered herself to the seat, but glared at him suspiciously, as though she expected him to pull it out from under her at any moment. "All right," she said as she watched him take the chair beside hers. "Now tell me. How did you find out I am Jane Streeter?"
At that point Jake wasn't sure what to do. Did he tell her the truth? Should he tell her it was Ted who had told him? He'd said she didn't like talking about the show, did that mean she'd be angry with him?
He suddenly wished he could just rewind the tape on these last few minutes and start all over again. The wedding ceremony had gone off without a hitch. No one had fainted, no one had tripped and—gratefully—no one had thrown up. And given the fact that they'd been seated at opposite ends of the table during dinner, he'd been fairly successful in steering clear of her for most of the day. But dinner was over now, the band was playing, the dance floor was crowded and the reception in full swing. Only the high spirits and good feelings had lulled him into a false sense of security and he'd thought it would be safe to talk to her again.
Brother, had he ever been wrong.
"I really didn't want to start any trouble," he began, choosing his words carefully. "It just happened to come up in a conversation last night. Ted mentioned—"
"Ted?" she gasped. "Ted told you about me?"
"Please don't be angry with him. Like I said, it was just something he'd mentioned. You remember, after the rehearsal last night. He talked about your alter ego. I was the one who asked him about what he'd meant and he told me about 'Lost Loves.'"
Watching her as she leaned back in her chair, he wasn't sure what to expect. Some of the fury had disappeared from her face and it almost looked as though some of what he'd said had sunk in, but he wasn't about to let his guard down. He'd made that mistake before.
"He said you didn't like talking about it," he continued. "I just thought I'd mention it because…well, because I've listened to the program. I'm…well, I'm a fan."
For a moment she did nothing. She just sat there staring at him, and he found that completely unnerving. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she slowly reached up and rubbed a hand across her forehead.
"Look, I'm…I'm the one who's sorry. I…" She breathed out a heavy sigh and shook her head, her voice trailing off. "This is an area of my life I try very hard to keep private." She rubbed her forehead again. "I have a counseling practice. My clients have no idea…I—I can't allow what I do on the radio to interfere or inhibit my work with them."
"You're protective of them, I can certainly understand that," he readily conceded. He rose to his feet. "A
nd again, I'm very sorry to have upset you. Please don't worry, your secret is safe with me."
He turned around, weaving his way across the dance floor and headed for the door.
That definitely hadn't gone at all how he'd expected. He wasn't sure he'd even thought too much about what her reaction might be and maybe that had been his first mistake. He probably should have supposed she would be surprised, maybe even taken aback. He wouldn't have even been surprised if she'd been somewhat flattered to discover he was a listener. But that violent burst of anger had been completely unexpected.
He pushed open the terrace doors and stepped out into the crisp, evening air. If he'd been a smoker, he definitely would have needed a cigarette. If he'd been a drinker, he would have headed straight for the bar. But as it was, he wasn't either of those things. He was a mountain man and what he wanted was a little fresh air to help him regain his composure.
Drawing in a deep breath, he immediately coughed. He'd forgotten just what this city smelled like. The odor of smoke and automobile exhaust hung thick in the air. EPA regulations may have done a lot to improve the air quality in the Los Angeles basin, but it was still a far cry from fresh, especially compared to his mountaintop perch. Still, the urban landscape did have its advantages. There wasn't much good you could say about smog, but it made for some spectacular sunsets.
He walked across the terrace, watching the play of color and shadow across the sky. Not much had changed in the three years he'd been away. Ted was still Ted and the friends he'd had before were still friends now. There were still the good feelings, the easy camaraderie, the comfortable interactions and he was relieved at that. But judging from the reaction he'd gotten from Jane…Kristin…
He shook his head. Whoever she was, judging from her reaction to him in the last twenty-four hours one thing was glaringly obvious. He had completely lost his touch with women.
He thought about her violent reaction—or rather over-reaction just now. Granted, it had been awkward for him, even embarrassing, but that really didn't concern him. What he really found upsetting was his disappointment. She was Jane Streeter—his Dear Jane. She had been his sole companion every night for the last three years. But now, all that had changed. Dear Jane was no longer that smart, warm voice on the radio. She had a name and a face—a face that had looked at him as though he were the worst kind of monster.
Night Talk Page 4
