Jane kept her glare going as she took the letter. “Perspective on what?”
“On the moron who wrote this thing.”
“You don’t even know what it says.”
“Sure I do. I love thee, Samantha, even though I don’t know one damn thing about you except what your sister told me, which is actually about her, and the fact that you have blonde hair and a great rack and—”
“Hey!”
He looked down at her. She was still shooting daggers at him with her dark blue eyes, all furious indignation.
“I’m just repeating what you said,” he told her.
“What?”
“You were the one who said men will choose the outside over the inside every time.”
“I didn’t say anything about anyone’s rack.”
“You talked about bikini competitions. I extrapolated.” He paused. “Or am I not supposed to use words like extrapolate? Since I’m stupid.”
Jane looked startled. “I don’t think you’re stupid. You know I don’t think that, Caleb.”
“Yeah? You sure make a lot of digs for someone who thinks I’m intelligent.”
Her eyebrows went up. “I didn’t realize you were so sensitive.”
That sounded a little more like the Jane he knew, and he felt himself relax a little. “Well, now you know. And while we’re on the subject, I’m also hurt that you don’t think I’m a romantic.”
Jane folded her arms. “When did I say that? It’s true, but when did I say it?”
“You told Horn-Rims my opinion doesn’t matter because I’m not a romantic. Exact words.”
“Okay, so I said it,” she conceded. “Are you saying you are romantic?”
“Sure I am.”
“When’s the last time you sent a woman flowers?”
“Sending flowers isn’t romantic. It’s an empty gesture.” He pointed a finger at the letter in Jane’s hand. “Like that thing.”
Her fingers tightened around it. “This isn’t an empty gesture. It’s romantic. A man pouring his heart out to a woman he fell in love with at first sight.”
Caleb pulled off his hat and dragged a hand through his hair. “Jesus. That’s not romantic; it’s insane. And it’s bullshit, because you said yourself the woman he fell in love with wasn’t even Sam. It was you.”
“It was me in Sam’s body.”
“Great. So all you need is a body switch, and you’ll be all set.”
Before she could respond, her assistant popped her head into the nook. “Jane? There’s a customer up front with a question I can’t answer. It’s about Dante’s Inferno.”
“No problem,” Jane said. “Considering I’m actually living there at the moment, I should be able to provide detailed directions.”
She walked briskly away to help her customer, and Caleb put his borrowed chair back where he’d found it. Then he strolled up to the front of the store and waited until Jane had finished special-ordering a British edition of Dante.
“I have a suggestion,” he said when she was free.
He rested his forearms on the counter between them. She did the same, mirroring him, and they looked at each other.
“What?” she asked.
“I think you should give me that letter. And then I think you should forget all about it, forget the idiot who wrote it, and go to a bar tonight to practice flirting with real guys.”
A wave of color rose up into her face, and he wished he’d left the last part out. He’d come here to make sure that last night hadn’t changed anything between them, and using the word flirting would only remind her of their conversation.
“Dan is a real guy. He’s not a fantasy I dreamed up.”
“Sure he is—just like whatever version of Sam he’s got in his head. You don’t know anything about him.”
“I know more about him than I do about some random guys in a random bar.”
“Okay, maybe. But at least out in the wild you’d have a chance to meet someone who’s actually attracted to you.”
Jane looked down at her clasped hands resting on the counter, but not before he saw the hurt in her eyes.
He winced. “Sorry. I mean, since Horn-Rims has the bad taste to not be attracted to you, wouldn’t it make sense to mix it up with other men? They can’t all be stupid. Some of them will look at you and see—”
What I do when I look at you.
She looked up again, frowning. “See what?”
He cleared his throat. “A woman they’re interested in. Come on, Jane. You know you’re not a troll. Horn-Rims is a moron, but that’s no excuse to feel sorry for yourself. There are plenty of guys out there ready to fall for you.”
He turned his right hand over and held it toward her, palm up. “Hand over that letter.”
She shook her head. “I’m going to give it to Sam myself. And I’m going to tell her to give him a chance.”
He straightened up and stared at her. “Are you serious?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “I mean, who am I to play God? Maybe they’d be good together. I’ll tell Sam what I did, and give her the letter, and tell her to meet him before he leaves the city. Just to see if there’s something there. She can explain to him that all that stuff I told him was about me, not her, and tell him who she is. It’ll be an icebreaker. Not that Sam needs an icebreaker.”
“That guy is the opposite of Sam’s type. You know that.”
Jane nodded. “Of course I do. He’s my type. But he doesn’t want me, so . . .”
She shrugged.
A knot of frustration tightened in his gut, and he pushed himself away from the counter. “Fine. I think you should give me that stupid thing and forget all about the guy who wrote it, since he doesn’t live here and you’ll never see him again, but whatever.”
He started to turn away and paused, looking back at her. “If Sam actually spends time with this guy and they actually hit it off, you know you’d be totally miserable, right?”
She lifted her chin. “If Sam’s happy, I’ll be happy.”
“You’d have to sit across from them at family dinners.”
As he said that, a sudden memory of the last Finch family dinner he’d been to surfaced in his mind. It had been a year ago, and Jane had brought a date.
He’d spent the night trying not to glower at the guy and resisting the urge to challenge him to an arm-wrestling match.
“What’s wrong?” Jane asked.
Only then did he realize he’d been staring at her for a minute without saying a word.
“Nothing,” he said. “I got distracted. There’s some stuff I forgot to do. See you later,” he said, turning abruptly and leaving the shop.
Shit. He had a thing for Jane, and it wasn’t going away.
But what the hell could he do about it? Jane wasn’t a one-night stand person, and he wasn’t a relationship person.
He’d given it a shot a few times, but it never worked out. Women started out saying they were fine with him trekking around the world, but they all gave him the same ultimatum in the end: cut the travel way down or call it quits.
He always called it quits.
The fact was, he loved his lifestyle more than he could ever love a woman. He craved the freedom and the adventure. Sam said he was addicted to it, and maybe that was true. But if so, it was an addiction he had no desire to overcome.
And he could never put Jane in a position where she came second.
Of course, that assumed a relationship with her was even an option. As arrogant as he could be when it came to women—at least according to Sam—he wasn’t arrogant enough to assume Jane would want to be with him. Hadn’t she said last night she couldn’t even imagine being attracted to him?
He’d love to believe she was just protesting too much. That she was fighting the same chemistry he was, and for the same reason.
Because she knew they’d be crazy to cross that line.
A woman with a cane and a service dog stepped out of a shop in front of him
, and he paused to let them cross the sidewalk. While he waited for them to pass, he glanced at the store window and recognized the display.
WEAR THIS AND YOU’LL FIND HIM:
THE MAN OF YOUR DREAMS.
Did women really fall for that bullshit? With ads like that in stores and magazines, not to mention all the romantic books and movies out there, it was no wonder women like Jane had their heads full of fantasies.
But Jane deserved more than a fantasy. She deserved more than him, too—but at least the attraction he felt for her was real. He could make her feel things she’d never dreamed of, no matter how good her imagination was.
If he had her in his bed, he could make her forget her own name.
The woman with the dog was long gone. Yet here he still was, standing in front of a store window, staring at a dress the exact color of Jane’s eyes.
And then he realized he’d made a decision.
Jane might not be a one-night stand person, and he definitely wasn’t a relationship person. But he was sick of playing what if. He had to find out if Jane felt what he did.
And if the answer was yes?
Then they’d figure out how to deal with it.
Chapter Nine
“I didn’t really need your help with that order.”
It took Jane a moment to realize that Felicia had spoken to her.
“I’m sorry, what?”
Felicia was restocking the bags under the counter and looking guilty.
“That Dante order. I mean, you’re definitely the expert, but I probably could have figured it out.”
Jane was confused. “That’s all right. I’m always happy to help a customer.”
Felicia sat back on her heels. “It was because of Caleb.”
Now she was more confused.
“What was because of Caleb?”
“He’s the reason I asked for your help. I thought if you were busy he might, I don’t know, notice me or something. Talk to me.” She sighed. “And of course he didn’t. I mean, why would he?”
Slowly the wheels clicked into place. Felicia had a crush on Caleb, and neither she nor Caleb had noticed.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t even realize. Why didn’t you say something to me?”
“What, so you could fix us up?” Felicia shook her head as she put the last stack of bags in place. “That would be too much like asking my mom to arrange a date for me.”
She brushed her hands on the front of her jeans, looking more like her normal, cheerful self. “Don’t worry about it. I mean, he’s a reach guy for me, you know?”
“A reach guy?”
“Sure. Like when you apply to colleges? You’re supposed to have safety schools, match schools, and reach schools. Caleb’s a reach for me.”
A wave of depression washed over her. Were people really in categories like that? And did you have to date within your category?
Of course you did. Wasn’t that what she’d just told Caleb?
But then why did people always want someone out of reach?
She wanted Dan, and Dan wanted Sam. (It sounded like a Dr. Seuss book.) Meanwhile, Sam wanted . . . well, no one at the moment. Felicia wanted Caleb, and Caleb wanted . . .
She shivered all over, as though a draft of icy air had swept across her skin.
Caleb didn’t want her. Reach guys didn’t want safety girls, and she would definitely be a safety girl to Caleb. Which just went to show that the looks-based caste system didn’t really work, because she didn’t want Caleb, either.
Liar.
Okay, maybe she did. Sometimes. But she didn’t want him the way she wanted Dan. Dan might be her soul mate, and there was no way Caleb was. Which meant if she felt anything for Caleb besides friendship, it was only . . .
Lust.
Pure, raw, animal lust.
She thought about those hazel eyes looking into hers, that stubbled jaw and those broad shoulders and that sexy grin, and she shivered again.
She wasn’t a lust person. She was a mind person. A soul person. A relationship person. When it came to love, she wanted the whole package—or at least the hope of it.
Which meant this whole disturbing attraction-to-Caleb thing had to go back down into her subconscious where it belonged.
“You’re not mad at me, are you?” Felicia asked, after Jane had been quiet for a while.
She shook her head quickly. “No, not at all. I was thinking about something else.”
Felicia grinned. “Handsome Dan? I saw him come in before.”
Handsome Dan. Right.
She’d put his letter in a drawer. Now she pulled it out and set it on the counter.
Miss Samantha Finch.
What did it say? How had he expressed his feelings? Had he written about all the things Jane had told him at lunch, or had he written about Sam’s golden hair and creamy skin and perfect body?
Had he written about the outside or the inside?
She’d told Caleb she was going to give the letter to Sam, tell her about the Cyrano thing, and ask her to give Dan a chance.
Caleb had said that could make for some awkward family dinners.
She tried to imagine it. What would it be like if Sam and Dan actually fell in love? Got married? Came to Thanksgiving as a couple, then with kids, then with grandkids?
If all that happened, it would be wonderful.
Wouldn’t it?
Because if all that happened, it would mean they were soul mates, after all.
If Caleb were here he’d make that noise that meant he was disgusted, because he didn’t believe in soul mates. But Jane did, and Caleb wasn’t here to argue with her. So should she go through with her plan? Should she call Sam and tell her—
She didn’t have a chance, because Sam called her.
“Hey,” she said, sounding rushed and excited. “I know we were supposed to have brunch this weekend and go shopping, but I’ve been invited to this climbing challenge thing and I really want to go. It’s happening upstate, so I’ll be gone for . . . I don’t know, three days? Is that okay? We can do brunch and everything else next weekend, right? Or do you have plans?”
“I have my writing group next Saturday, but I’m free Sunday,” she said automatically, but she was thinking, If Sam leaves town now, she won’t have a chance to meet Dan before he leaves.
“Fantastic! Next Sunday it is. I’m really psyched about this climb. There’s a cash prize for first place, which would make a very nice birthday present for me, and there’s going to be an ESPN crew there, too.”
“That sounds great. But, Sam—”
Remember that man who fell in love with you at first sight? I met him for lunch and told him I was you, or you were me, or something, which definitely screwed things up, but then he gave me this letter to give to you, and I think maybe you should give him a chance in case you guys really are soul mates—
“I gotta go, kid. We’re leaving at four in the morning, and I still have to get my gear together. Stay safe, little sis! I love you!”
“I love you, too,” she started to say, but Sam had already ended the call.
On to the next adventure—that was Sam.
She’s so vital. She practically glows.
That’s what Dan had said. That’s why he’d fallen in love with her at first sight.
It wasn’t just that she was beautiful. It was that she was so alive.
She was so bright and strong she made everything else seem faded and weak.
Including her.
She felt that familiar being-near-Sam feeling: washed out, tired, insignificant.
There were times being around her was wonderful. Like being around a bonfire on a cold night, you could warm yourself at the flame that was Samantha, absorbing the glowing warmth of her vitality.
But her fire burned so bright it was hard to see anything else near her.
Jane shook her head suddenly. Why was she still comparing herself to Sam after all these years? She’d learned a long time ago h
ow useless that was. The only thing it would accomplish was making her feel bad about herself.
And there was no reason for that. Maybe she didn’t climb mountains and sail across oceans and jump out of airplanes, but she had a good life. A really good life. She lived in the greatest city in the world, and at twenty-seven she owned her own business. She might have inherited it from her grandparents, but it was still hers—and she’d kept it in the black every year she’d been in charge, which was no mean feat.
But as she told Felicia she was leaving early and gave her the keys to close up, she didn’t feel pride in her accomplishments or pleasure in the life she’d made for herself. As she walked down the street toward her subway stop, she felt small and pale and tired and weak—a candle flame beside the conflagration that was Samantha Finch.
Hours later, lying in bed but unable to sleep, she was almost relieved when her phone buzzed and she saw Caleb’s name on the screen. She might be confused about him and uncomfortable with the things he made her feel, but he was a distraction from her thoughts. She’d rather feel anything but the smallness and pettiness of jealousy, even a physical attraction she couldn’t understand or control.
An attraction that buzzed through her veins the moment she heard his low, rusty voice in her ear.
“Hey there. Still awake?”
“This is the third night in a row you’ve called me at bedtime. Is this going to be a thing now?”
A low chuckle. “Maybe. Objections?”
“Not yet. I’ll let you know.” She paused, feeling how wide awake she was now—how awareness crackled across her skin like a thousand pinpricks, filling her with a restless energy.
No other man’s voice had this effect on her.
“Jane?”
She was so conscious of her body. Liquid warmth pooled in odd corners, and a tickling sensation teased at her lower belly.
“Yes?”
“Will you have dinner with me?”
She froze. Anxiety drove out all the little darts of pleasure, reminding her that no matter how sexy he was, she didn’t want her relationship with Caleb to change. They weren’t romantically compatible, and their friendship was too important to screw up.
Of course, she might be reading too much into Caleb’s request.
Tell Me Page 8
