by J. A. Coffey
But the man didn't leave. Instead he stood beside him, stared at the entryway and said, "It's Jess, isn't it?"
Darius controlled his shocked jump/flinch/whirl.
Just barely.
How was it that a lifetime's training in karate, kung fu, jujitsu and Aikido left him so vulnerable where Jessalyn was concerned? "What? Huh? How, what-" he coughed. "So, you, um, know Jessalyn?"
"Oh, honey," the man took him by the elbow and yanked him towards the street. "I know her better than her own mama. What's your name, hunky?"
Half startled, half dragged, Darius trudged along and said, "Darius Covington. Who are you?"
There was a pause as the man stared at him, mouth open with amusement. "I'm Jeremy Baker, make-up artist extraordinaire for the Baker Funeral Home." He squeezed. "It's my dad's."
"You put make-up on dead people?"
"Who else, darling? Everyone else is all drippy eyed and crying." He squeezed again. "Ooh, nice biceps. Do you curl?"
"Enough." Darius yanked away, a reluctant grin tugging at his lips. "Are you for real?"
"Of course I'm for real." Hands on hips, Jeremy affected a playful pose. "Care to touch?"
At least the man was a break from his dark mood. Mirth bubbled up in him. "Is this some candid camera thing?"
Jeremy clapped. "Oh, I hope so. I love being filmed." He turned sideways. "This is my best side. Where's the camera?"
The man was crazy, Darius thought as he wiped down his bunching cheeks. "I'm going home now."
"Oh, no, you're not." Jeremy lunged and caught his elbow again. "Jer-Bear is treating you to a nice latte," he pointed across the street, "right there, where I take all the panting men Jess tosses to the curb. And there, I'll tell you all about our Little Miss Stargazer."
*****
"I'm dead. I'm a dead man, except I'm not a man." Jess paced hard before the windows, looking out at the street.
Faith eased near her, looking cute with her curly brown hair gathered up in a knot, trying to see where Jess looked. "Is it about the big estate we're getting?"
"Sorta. Well, no. It's about Darius."
It was hard to overlook Faith's blazing smile. "I saw you hugging him. He looked...snuggly."
"Yeah, don't think I've forgotten about your spying episode." She speared her with a glance. "But right now it's way worse than that. Do I charge in there? Should I go home and start my long-overdue vacation?" Through gritted teeth she cried, "This is awful. I mean, I guess on some level I thought I might run into Darius with the estate, but that went through weeks ago and...." she couldn't formulate her thoughts.
"Why? What's going on?"
Jess whirled to face her, hands stopped claw-like in midair. "When you meet someone incredible who totally changes the course of your life, and you judge every other man you meet by comparing him to the guy who was the most amazing person you've ever met, and you dump all these other guys and choose a life of celibacy rather than be continually disappointed by having each date flop in comparison, what do you call that first guy?"
Somehow Faith understood her. Her solemn brown eyes locked to her own. "Um, your one true love?"
Jess grabbed Faith by the shoulders in a stiff-armed grip. "Then...Jeremy's absconded with my one true love!"
With the maturity and understanding that only a teenager could possess, Faith regarded her and calmly stated, "I think you should leave the country. Tonight."
Chapter Five
"Blech." Jeremy spat his brownie into his napkin. "I keep hoping they'll change the recipe, but," he shrugged, "they'll never be as good as mine." Then he winked, quite audaciously.
"You enjoy cooking?"
Jeremy huffed, his shoulders dropping dramatically. "I'm Jeremy Baker." He rolled his eyes, one hand palm up.
Darius didn't give in to laughter. This time. His cheeks were too sore. "Ah, yes. Baker Funeral Home. I passed it on the way in."
"Handsome and smart all wrapped up in one." He crossed his knees with flair and sipped.
Boy, this guy could bait. "So tell me why we're here."
"Because it's called the Bird's Nest. And I'm a pigeon." Jeremy leaned forward. "A big loud gossipy stool pigeon."
Gossipy? Go figure. "What would you like me to know?"
He pouted, even crossed his wrists. "Aren't you going to ask me? You know, like, 'Bachelor Number One, have you ever experienced love at first sight?'"
"Is this a game show?" Darius eyed him over his coffee cup. He had reclined fully into his chair, ankle on knee, finding the space between them necessary for breathing room.
Jeremy should have been a comedian.
"Oh, poop, you're no fun." He tossed a sugar packet at Darius, making him chuckle. "Okay, you like Jess, Jess likes you, so-"
"How do you know that?"
"Look," Jeremy leaned forward, wide-eyed and blinked once, fingers pointing at his orbs. "See these? They're twenty-twenty."
Darius unfolded himself and leaned forward. "You've never seen us together, so don't try to pull that one off."
With a dramatic huff, Jeremy swatted his hands. "Oh, you are too smart. Okay, it goes back to high school, all right?"
"High school?" Darius leaned back, regarding the man with renewed interest. "You've known Jessalyn that long?"
"Yes. We were both shopping for the same men. Poor honey," Jeremy pouted as he licked his fingers, "she wanted me most of all." He flipped his hands in the voila gesture. "And now she has me. I made her promise six years ago to let me be her maid of honor if she ever marries."
Well, that stopped him short. "You cross-dress?"
"No, silly." Jeremy waved again, leaning forward, and Darius wondered if they were truly friends. The man would keep someone laughing, that was for sure. "I just want to stare at all the men in suits." He waggled his brows, then hopped into a closer chair. "Like this one. Is it Armani?"
"It's custom."
Jeremy whistled in appreciation and managed two or three pats before Darius swatted him away. "Back to your chair, Jer."
"It's Jer-Bear," he pouted as he reclaimed his seat.
"High school?" Darius prompted.
Jeremy fell straight back into his topic without pause. "Jess had the best best friends. They were always so much fun. It was just a matter of time 'til we met. Follow the laughter, I always say." Jeremy pushed away his cup and leaned forward. "But for about a year, Jess was all mopey and dreamy and outer-spacey. Thus the 'Miss Stargazer' title. She kept talking about Jupiter all the time." He rapped his fingers on the table. "And furniture. All the time." He grinned with a secret joke. "We were going to call her Queen Ann, but that was already taken." His lips twitched.
The tea had cooled, but Darius sipped anyway, wanting to know more of the girl he had met so long ago, the one that led to the woman he had just held. "Go on."
All humor left Jeremy's eyes. "I remember seeing her outside shop class for months, all giggly and girly. Until prom night. After that, I didn't see her. And, since I'm enough of an egomaniac to realize the chit wasn't panting after me anymore, I asked around."
"And?" He had a feeling he would like this part.
Jeremy dug his nail into his napkin. "I heard Cinderella had danced a midnight waltz with Prince Charming. Right before her shoes turned to mice and her car a pumpkin." He eyed him. "And when she wasn't daydreaming, she was crying."
His face fell. "Over me?" No.
"Is there another Darius?"
He felt like a heel. Needing to defend himself, he said, "My father yanked us apart. I didn't--"
"Honey." A firm stare. "I don't care about the past. I care about now. Jess has worked her whole life to attain the dream. The one Prince Charming introduced her to. The one no one thought she could ever reach. And she did." Jeremy leaned back, and Darius watched as his expression turned from earnest to deadly. "She's living the dream, Darius. Don't turn it into a nightmare for her."
The thought of never seeing Ollie's belongings again made his eyes burn.<
br />
The thought of ruining Jess' livelihood made him nauseous.
He stared into his empty mug.
Jeremy must have mistaken his silence, because he said, "Darius, even when I'm the cuddliest pussycat, I still have claws."
Chapter Six
"Emergency meeting." Jess raced through her store, tapping her employees as she found them. "Tonight. Six-thirty."
Faith watched everyone smiling and got confused. She frowned and asked, "Where?" Weren't people supposed to hate meetings?
"My house."
Bizarre. "Where do you live?"
"Londonderry. About fifteen minutes southwest of here."
Faith knew little of directions, but knew Londonderry was far enough away she'd rarely been there. Panicked, she looked around, wide-eyed. "I can't drive yet."
"I've got her," Arthur volunteered. "She won't want to miss this."
"Why?" What was she missing?
But Jeremy came through the door just then, looking smug and vibrating with news to share. "Cookie, wait 'til-"
"Meeting. Six-thirty."
Those words made him toss his hands in the air. "What are we having?"
"Meatloaf." Jess stuffed random items into a shopping bag, not even looking at what she grabbed. Seriously, her boss just grabbed the tape dispenser. And then an extension cord. "Glazed pearl onions, tossed salad, asparagus. Sorbet dessert." She glanced up at all the drooling faces. "Six-thirty," she said as she raced out the door.
No one moved, but finally Jeremy chuckled. "I thought it would take longer than this."
Frustrated to no end, Faith cried, "Why? What's going on?"
Jeremy stepped closer to her. Was he really gay? "The more upset Jess gets, the better we all eat. It's a tough one, really." He looked up in thought and touched his lip. "Jess' happiness or our stomachs. Hmm." As he walked out the door, his eyes turned calculating, and he called out, "Tell her I'm bringing a friend."
Chapter Seven
Darius felt the weight of his choices squeezing the breath from his lungs. Vividly he recalled how Jess thought- as a teenager- that Ollie's belongings should be shared with the world. And now, running an antique store, Jess most certainly would divide and conquer, sending each piece on a merry journey to God-knows-where, never to be seen by his eyes again.
Winning the inheritance, however, would alienate her yet again.
As a young man, Darius thought his connection to Jess had been a serendipitous meeting, a shared interest at a trying time. And when his father alternated between rage, drunken stupors and gambling stints, the thought of Jess' sweet lips under the moonlight offered him a welcoming sanctuary.
It was probably a good thing he never saw her again; the amount of times he would have snuck out to meet her would have been legendary.
And potentially catastrophic, had his father ever been alerted.
But then those days had stretched to months, and then to years. Still he could hear her merry laughter and see the twinkle in her bright blue eyes.
She no longer wore glasses.
Darn. He kind of liked that about her.
He should just bow out gracefully, with the understanding that he would purchase the entire lot after she had her fifteen minutes of fame.
He was sure a bank somewhere would offer him a fifty year loan.
It rankled, that. He itched the hair standing on end at his nape, like a lion sensing an intruder near his harem.
Although Ollie had provided well for him- leaving him an extraordinary trust fund that had paid not only for university but also for his Aikido- he'd been living off it for so long he feared to check his balance. Now his reliable income came from his competitions, and sponsors paid for his airfare and lodging when they begged him to compete in their cities.
His own dojo back home in England remained in capable hands while he traveled, and being owned by an international star kept his business in the black.
His father detested that he worked for a living, especially as a fighter. No, fisticuffs, he called it, like he still didn't understand what his own son did for a living.
"Blast and damn," he uttered as he unbuttoned his jacket. He walked to his hamper and yanked off the sleeves, only to stop. He sniffed his lapel. Jess' perfume.
No longer could he abuse his garment. Instead, he folded it lengthwise, taking one more breath of her scent deep into his lungs.
He needed to shower. Charging out of here like a hotheaded fool put him squarely in Jess' arms at his personal worst. He had dressed nicely, of course, but no amount of rationalizing would detract from the fact he hadn't showered.
Or shaved.
He laid the jacket over a chair back, grabbed a towel and headed for the water closet.
He had just finished drying himself when the doorbell chimed its Westminster peal, practically rattling the pictures off the walls. Probably one of his father's debt collectors. The man rarely stayed home, for which Darius was thankful today. He tugged on a pair of jeans and hastened downstairs, t-shirt in his hands.
Cobol, great butler that he was, had already escorted the visitor to the parlor. By the time Darius reached the last step, he heard his father's man inform the guest he would, "see if the master is accepting visitors this moment."
Darius smiled as their old family butler stopped at the banister. "A Mr. Jeremy Baker here to speak with you, sir."
But now he felt no mirth. Sensing a stalker- and God knows he'd had enough of them after the Covington fortune- Darius squared his shoulders and marched in, t-shirt wadded tightly in his hand.
He didn't find what he expected- the quivering, giggling, flirtatious type that he'd come to expect from unexpected- albeit female- callers. What he found was Jeremy frowning at the parlor, tapping his lip. "You need orange in here. It's too green."
Stopped short, he could only say, "I beg your pardon?"
"Bromeliads," Jeremy said, his hands waving magically over an empty end table. "They're usually pink. Don't get those. Orange," he stressed.
"Orange," Darius nodded in solemn fashion. "Why are you here?"
"Dinner's at six-thirty." Jeremy spun and scanned him, getting an eyeful of his chest before looking at his jeans. "You're not wearing that, are you?"
Shocked at both being hit on by a man and criticized for his non-entertaining wardrobe, Darius said, "Now see here-"
"Easy, Tiger. I'm not dissing your duds. It's just that Jessalyn should see you in something...more you."
"Jessalyn?"
Jeremy stepped close and poked his arm. "You do want to make a good impression, don't you?"
He tugged his t-shirt over his head and ruffled up his hair. "You do know she hates me right about now, right?"
Jeremy only shrugged, a mischievous smile tugging his lips. "Well...I'm sure you could...change her mind."
Usually Darius was an excellent judge of character. These two- Jess and Jer- threw him. Still.... He narrowed his gaze and asked, "What is it you aren't telling me?"
Jeremy had the good graces to look abashed. Almost. "We... should be fashionably late."
"She doesn't know you're here." Arms folded, Darius stared him down.
But Jeremy recovered enough to grab his shoulders and spin him towards the door. "And she never will at this rate. Tup, tup!" He marched him towards the stairs. "Find something simple yet dashing. Turquoise, if you have it. It's her favorite color, and it'll make those eyes of yours just pop." His fingers were spread at his eyes as Darius looked back and smiled.
"Turquoise, huh?" Not a color he normally wore. His stalling made Jeremy clap his hands twice and shoo him up the stairs. "Not too fancy, up there. It's just a business gathering."
Darius halted and looked back downstairs. "Business? Is it about the estate?"
Another half-smile. "I would assume, Cookie, but I won't know until we get there." He tapped his foot impatiently.
"Alright, alright." Darius grumbled as he went into his room and tore through his meagerly-packed closet. A
nice light blue polo shirt...and shorts or khakis?
"Where are we eating?" he called down.
"Jess'. She's a fab cook. I, of course, taught her."
He pulled on the tan shorts, wanting Jess to get an eyeful of his calves. As he headed downstairs, the sight of Jeremy's appraising smile and nod made him halt. "You," he almost backed up, "aren't going to be all grabby, are you?"
Jeremy rolled his eyes and then closed them, a typical action of one being put upon too often. He tipped his head when he informed him, "No, darling. I just know her type, and she'll find you quite yummy. FYI, you've got a chest to kill for."
He came down five more steps, now wanting to toy with him. "This isn't some ploy to get me alone with you, is it?" He grinned as he said it, trying to goad.
Shock and dismay crossed Jeremy's face and he crossed his arms to glare. "Now don't go all homey-phoby on me, mister. Robert and I are happily married." He leaned forward and jabbed a finger at the ground. "This is about Jessalyn. She is my best friend and I want to see her happy, even if the thought of you in her home kills her. Which it may. Now come on." He waved his fingers. "We're going to be late."
"Marisol," Darius called out as he impulsively grabbed the flowers in the vase at the doorway, "we'll need more calla lilies."
He closed the door and faced Jeremy, realizing something. "How did you even know where I lived?"
A playful smile curved Jeremy's lips. "Jess' mom, Anna, was County Sheriff for eight years before becoming a detective. I called her, she did some digging, and here I am. Tah dah!" He spread his arms wide and high. Then, when Darius clearly wasn't buying it, he added, "I assumed you'd stay with family. You have that," he snapped his fingers while he thought, "devoted hound dog look."
The umbrage stopped him. "I do not."
So Jeremy tipped his head and patted his arm. "Of course not, Cookie. I'll drive."
"Like hell." Darius waved him towards the garage. "How far is it?"
"Thirty miles?"
He thought for a moment. "How far is it from Jess' to my Uncle Ollie's place?"
