He cocked his head and studied her curiously, but only said, “Yeah. It is.”
By eight-thirty, they were in the taxi, windows rolled up tight against another cold front, headed to North County so Lilly could look over a crisis intervention center that had received high praise.
In spite of her asking for anonymity lately, the grapevine had been buzzing. She barely had to say, “Hi, I’m Lilly Marquette—” and people fell all over themselves to show her the highlights of how their organization or awareness program or foundation was helping others.
News crews were on hand twice. After that, she warned prospective recipients that if the media showed up, she wouldn’t. They just slowed her down, and it was hard enough giving so much money away, she didn’t need to smile about it and answer stupid questions about why she was doing it, like “Does it have anything to do with being poor yourself after your father’s business failed?”
As if her father would want to be reminded.
“Does it have anything to do with your uncle leaving his airplane to you when you really needed it?”
How did people get that kind of information?
The downside of living with Jake was that the car hadn’t lost its overnight chill before she joined him. Mooch tried to climb in his lap for warmth, and when Jake pushed him off, he decided Lilly’s lap would do. She would’ve pushed him off, too, but he was toasty, so she let him stay. As a reward, he treated her to a rare purr, which she had to admit made her feel abundantly warm and cozy.
At the first turn, a lady’s wristwatch slid along the dash from Jake’s side to hers. She caught it as it went airborne. “Somebody leave this?”
“I did some work on it over the weekend for Rachel. She’s one of my regulars.”
“A gizmo, as Susannah calls it.”
“Yeah. I couldn’t finish it until my fingers healed, so it’s late. If she doesn’t call me soon, I want to drop it off at Shaw’s Garden. She works there. You don’t mind, do you?”
“I haven’t been there in ages. I wouldn’t mind walking through the Linnean House while you do that.”
“Missing your atrium already?”
“I have—well, I had an extremely rare Camellia chrysantha that blooms later than the rest.”
“So stop by and see it.”
“I’d rather not go back. The Linnean House should have one.” She held up the watch. “You mind if I wear it until then? I forgot mine this morning, and that way it won’t fly off and get broken.”
“Go ahead.”
Admiring Jake’s hands as he drove, Lilly didn’t know how he maneuvered such large, strong fingers into intricate work at any time. While they’d be an advantage hoisting stones at custom home sites, which is probably where he’d developed them, they’d only be a hindrance working on a ladies’ watch.
She buckled the brown leather band snugly on her wrist. It wasn’t her usual style, a bit on the bulky side, but since it was covered by her coat sleeve most of the time and she was just wearing it to be functional, who cared?
“How do you work with something so small?”
“Expensive tools.” Jake merged onto the highway, then studied her, his eyebrows drawn together with concern. “You look tired. Wasn’t the bed comfortable?”
“It was fine, thanks.”
Rather than move his stuff out of the hall bathroom, he’d given her sole run of the one in his parents’ master suite. There were more automatic features in there for his mother, like a motion-detector light that worked after dark—red, so it wouldn’t interfere with night vision when she exited. The sink faucets operated on a sensor, same as the kitchen. She’d needed a crash course in how to work the shower, as it had a row of controls where she had only to pass her hand over one higher or lower to change the temperature accordingly. Very user-friendly for an older woman with arthritic fingers.
Lilly hoped their son would be as thoughtful, not just toward her, but toward women in general.
Our son —now that had a nice ring to it, ever so much nicer than my baby.
“You have trouble adjusting the temperature for sleeping?”
“No, it was fine. Just”—she sighed—”busy dreams. Not bad, you know? Just confusing. Like it’s me, and it’s Cloud Nine, and it blows up, but then things get confusing. Sometimes I’m not even caught in the building, I’m standing out on the lot with you and Betsy, watching it burn. Sometimes the paramedics take me to the hospital. Sometimes I stand up and walk away.”
With you, she thought, but no sense scaring him with a commitment issue yet, just in case he wasn’t the type. Since he’d never married, he must be.
“Sometimes I’m flying through a perfectly beautiful sky, then for no reason I lose control of the plane. Not mine; a different one. Can’t get my feet on the pedals, or the stick’s frozen. You know, classic lack-of-control stuff. So it’s not the room, or the temperature, or the bed. It’s me.”
She lifted the most recent dessert pan off the dash. Mooch grumbled at the disturbance.
“Those aren’t the usual,” Jake warned.
“Tired of Orgasms?”
His smile was brief, but genuine. “I did something for Tom. You know, the guy I filled in for the day you and I met. Susannah’s spread the word that I can be had for chocolate.”
Oh, if only that were true.
“They’re brownies with cherries in them, I think.”
Lilly groaned appreciatively, especially since they’d already been cut and all she had to do was lift one out and start in on it.
“I don’t think I even want to know the name.”
Jake’s grin was wicked with possibilities. “His wife said if we like them, we can name them.”
We. His neighbors already thought of Jake and her as a we!
“Oh God, this is so good.”
“Is that your breakfast, or should we stop somewhere?”
“Stop somewhere.”
“You know, I’ve never met a woman who eats like you do.”
“You mean because I don’t count calories?”
“Calories, hell.” He shook his head in amazement. “You don’t even count meals.”
“But everything tastes so good.”
She silently debated whether everyone who got a second chance experienced the same thing. Halfway through the second brownie, her cell phone rang.
“Lilly, Andrew. Hey listen, I just got off the phone with Neidermeyer.” Neidermeyer was her broker. “He says you’ve been moving a lot of money lately, and I was just wondering how you’d feel about investing some back into the business?” In other words, Quit giving it away.
Anyone who watched the news knew she’d been moving something, somewhere, but Neidermeyer knew how much, and it sounded as if he’d shared. So much for confidentiality.
Lilly bit her tongue to keep from telling Andrew exactly how she felt about his intruding in her financial affairs. Marquettes were firm believers in It’s not what you know, it’s who you know. Just wait’ll she got a hold of Neidermeyer!
“Tell you what, Drew, I’ll think about it.”
“Because we can see you get a really good return on your capital, probably better than anything you’re getting now.”
“Let me think about it, okay?”
“If you’d like to get together sometime, I can show you some numbers.”
“Drew!”
Startled, Mooch flew off her lap and cleared the back of the seat without even grazing it. Lilly’d grown pretty fond of the tumble-dried cat. Being deprived of his warm snuggle just irritated her that much more.
“Let me think about it.”
“Oh.” Andrew sounded surprised, as if he hadn’t thought of that. “Okay. How about I pick you up at five to sign the contract on the house, and you can let me know then?”
“Fine.” Irritated as hell, Lilly snapped the flip phone shut. “Change of plans.”
Jake was grinning, probably pleased that she was pissed at a guy he didn’t like. “Well,
I know where we’re not going.”
“Right. I want a new broker. Andrew and my current one are a little too close, if you catch my drift.”
“Mm, meddling, huh?”
“Oh”—she laughed with resentment—”so beyond meddling.”
“If that’s how you feel, how’s your estate planning?”
“Done.” Didn’t matter anyway, it would all be gone in a few months. But if she didn’t meet her deadline, the bulk of her money wouldn’t go where it would do the most good. “Now that you mention it, I should have my attorney rewrite my trust. My parents don’t want my money. Betsy’s fine.” Technically, she wouldn’t have to because the deal would be broken, but since Transition, she’d found she actually liked helping people who really needed it. “I’ll set aside three million for you, too.”
His head nearly swiveled off in surprise. “No!”
“The road, Jake. Watch the road!”
He swerved back into his lane. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the thought, but I can just see you getting blown up again. I’d be the prime suspect.”
“Don’t be silly. You’re already the prime suspect.”
“Me? Why?”
“Revenge, of course. For Brady screwing you out of the money in the first place.”
“I’m sure he had his reasons.”
“That’s awful big of you. I’d be pissed.”
“Well, he saved my life, and I’m not.”
It never ceased to amaze Jake what loads of money could accomplish. He’d witnessed it often enough with Brady.
“You need it yesterday, Jake? No problem.” And whatever he needed and hadn’t been able to get through normal channels was overnighted to him.
“The airlines are booked and you need to go to Santa Barbara? No problem.” Pfft—one ticket, waiting at the counter.
Now Lilly had the same one-button power. At least she didn’t flaunt it, she saved it for when she really needed it—ha! A brief visit with a new broker who Lilly was sure had no business with the Marquettes, and pfft—millions moved to a new firm. A brief phone call with her attorney, and voila—her appointment was in one hour to review an updated trust. By lunch time, she was done, except for returning later to sign the final copy.
He didn’t dwell on his own circumstances as a former, wrongfully removed beneficiary. And then he realized two things.
One, if Brady had consulted him, Jake would’ve agreed, even encouraged him to change the beneficiary on his policy. As much as he loved Lilly, she was Brady’s wife, and it would’ve been all Jake could ever give her.
Two—and this really hurt—for anyone to inherit Lilly’s wealth, she’d have to die. She almost had. That undoubtedly weighed on her mind and was the impetus for making these changes so quickly.
Say she made him beneficiary of her trust—she had no obligation to, but just suppose, because now that the topic had come up, it was dragging his thoughts in this very morbid direction. So say it took her death for him to dig out of debt. Then forget it. Not even accidentally. No one’s value to another person should boil down to money.
Although a lot of organizations probably would disagree with him, especially recently. Lilly had given away millions of dollars, and not just for people, but animals, too. On Mooch’s behalf, she’d given a hefty sum to the no-kill animal shelter, because even though he hadn’t gone through the shelter and been rehabbed, he’d been homeless. In spite of his prickliness, he was okay to have around. He certainly deserved a chance at life. It’d be nice, though, if he quit leaving dead mice parts on the floor of the taxi. Jake was having a helluva time making sure they were out of there every morning before Lilly got in.
His day was filled with exactly what he’d been afraid of—wondering what Lilly had on under that dress and what color it was. Sheer torture. Whatever it was was probably red; Lilly loved red. Was her bra as sexy as the rest of her lingerie? Would he be able to see her nipples through it?
“Hey, watch the curb,” she warned.
It was stupid, really. He hadn’t been so obsessed with what a woman wore since high school. He hadn’t hit a curb in just about as long. Thank goodness it was five o’clock and they were nearly done.
“Here’s the last one on the list for today,” he said, paralleling the curb with care. “Sorry we missed Shaw’s Garden.” He’d planned on photographing the rare yellow camellia for her, but they’d run late and didn’t even have time to drop off the watch.
“Damn” she said, groaning.
He leaned forward and peered through Lilly’s window. “Yeah, awfully dark, isn’t it?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“What? You never want to quit.”
Mooch moaned long and low—anywhere else and it’d be a strong case that someone was trying to murder him. He climbed onto Lilly’s lap, shoved his way under the circle of her arms, and lay with his belly flat on her chest.
Lucky damn cat.
With the top of Mooch’s head nestled beneath Lilly’s chin, he commenced nuzzling her. And purring? He sounded like an outboard motor. Commingled with the moaning, a very stressed outboard motor.
“Jake.”
Lilly’s whisper was thready and flat, and just thinking that something could be wrong with her scared the daylight out of him.
“Your cat’s demented.”
“Huh. I’ve never seen him do that, not even for ice cream. So, you want me to check the door and see if anyone’s still here?”
“Ow.”
“Mooch!”
“It’s not the cat. Don’t yell at him.”
What else—”Your arm?”
“Yes,” she said through gritted teeth. “Start driving.”
Her face was pinched with pain, so even though Jake’s gut contracted, even though he’d gladly take her place if he could, he didn’t question her, just floored the gas and aimed the taxi for the nearest hospital.
Don’t worry, Brady, I’m keeping an eye on her for you.
“I knew we should’ve had it checked out sooner. Damn, I should’ve made you go see a doctor.”
“It’s not your fault.” A quarter mile away, like night and day, Lilly sighed in relief and said, “You can slow down now.”
In fact, she looked pretty content to have Mooch making up to her, darned near purring along with him when he rubbed his head under her chin.
“Mm, I didn’t know cats were so soft.”
If Mooch weren’t a cat, he’d be in big trouble. A quarter mile farther, he wiggled free and curled up next to Lilly’s hip. No moaning. No purring.
“What was that all about?”
“Got me. It’s as if he knew I was hurting. Maybe it was a bad charity or something, because I wasn’t even thinking anything against the rules.”
“You shouldn’t still be having pains in your arm after two weeks.”
“It’s okay, it’s gone.”
“Yeah, now!”
She glanced around, noting their route. “So help me, if you pull into a hospital, I’m pulling out my pepper spray.”
He braked to the speed limit and turned for home, but he wasn’t ready to give in completely. “You should see a doctor.”
“No.”
“Then at least fill me in so if I have to call 9-1-1 for you someday, I won’t have to stand there and answer their questions like a jackass: How often does she have these pains? I don’t know. How severe are they? I don’t know. On a scale of one to ten—”
“All right, already.” She covered a smile with her hand, unsuccessfully, and looked anywhere but at him.
“Come on,” he coaxed.
“You’re not going to like the explanation.”
“How do you know until you tell me?”
“I know you.”
He scoffed at that ridiculous assumption. “Just because we spend hours together every day doesn’t mean you know me.”
“Wanna bet?”
“Sure. If you’re right, you can have the next pan of Chocolat
e Orgasms all to yourself.”
She gave that some thought, but not much. “Not good enough.”
“Okay then, what do you want?”
“I want—and keep in mind I’m only doing this for your child—”
“I don’t have a child.”
“You will someday.” It was her turn to study him. “And on his behalf, if I win, I want you to open your mind and read a book, cover to cover.”
“That’s it? Read a book?”
“Get real. It has to be on one of those subjects you consider shit. You know, tarot, channeling, numerology, astrology, one of those.” When he didn’t answer, she grinned impishly, her eyes dancing. “See? Know you pretty well, don’t I? Still wanna bet?”
He sat back at a red light, crossed his arms over his chest and thought, Why the hell not? It wasn’t as if he could lose.
“Fine. When I win, you’ll get that arm x-rayed.”
He enjoyed watching her think, her scarlet-colored lips looking very kissable as her mouth tugged this way and that, keeping time with thoughts ping-ponging back and forth inside her head.
“If you win, and”—she laughed—”believe me, that’s not gonna happen, I’ll let a doctor check me out using any test that doesn’t require removal of this bracelet.”
She pointed at it so there’d be no misunderstanding, but the most significant thing Jake noticed was that she never said my bracelet. It was always this or the bracelet, or it, devoid of any possessiveness on her part. Whenever a charm disappeared, she didn’t say she lost a charm, she said, another one fell off. So far she was missing two. She claimed that was because she’d given two million dollars away, but he wasn’t buying that.
“Deal.”
He stuck out his hand, and they shook on it, and it was a very good thing they hadn’t been touching when they’d made the deal or who knows what he would’ve agreed to? Probably something really stupid, like reading a whole set of metaphysical encyclopedias. One book would be bad enough—if he had to read one, which he knew he wouldn’t.
He moved forward with the bumper-to-bumper traffic as the light changed. “So. Give.”
“You were right at the salon. It has to do with giving away money.”
A Date on Cloud Nine Page 15
