Jaimie: Fire and Ice

by Sandra Marton

  “But you could have crossed paths with my brothers,” she said, tucking the little shell into the pocket of her shorts. “Did I tell you they were all in the service? Well, two of them. Not the third. My brother, Caleb, was in some secret agency. Kind of like you.”

  “What do you mean, like me?”

  Was his tone a little sharp? Maybe, because Jaimie gave him a strange look.

  “That’s what you said, Zacharias. That you’d been in some sort of ‘if I tell you, I’ll have to kill you’ government organization, remember?”

  “Yeah. Well, you know how it is. The government figures the alphabet is theirs to toss around. Sometimes I think they must have an Acronym Department.”

  She laughed. He let out his breath. How much longer could he lie to her? Didn’t he trust himself to tell her the truth? Or didn’t he trust her? What did he mean to her? What did she feel for him? Did he matter enough for her to overlook the lies?

  Damn.

  Where was he going with this? He—he cared for her. And if she—if she cared for him…

  “Zacharias?”

  “Jaimie.” He stopped walking, turned toward her, took her hands in his. “Honey. We need to talk.”

  He’d expected her to say, “Talk about what?” or “We are talking.” But she didn’t. Instead, she gave him a steady, sobering look and said that yes, they did.

  “I love it here,” she said softly.

  He smiled and brought her hands to his lips.

  “But,” she said, “we can’t live on an island forever.”

  “The place is ours for as long as we want it.”

  “It isn’t that. It’s…I have a job.”

  “You said yourself, this is the slow season.”

  “It is. Still, I can’t stay away forever.”

  “Jaimie. Honey, I have enough money for—”

  She put her fingers over his lips.

  “Thank you. But I’d never…” She took a breath. “I have to go home eventually. We both do. We can’t—we can’t continue to live in this—this beautiful dream.”

  Was that what this was? A beautiful dream? If it was, he didn’t want to wake up.

  “Surely, another couple of weeks… What?”

  “Being here, with you, away from everything… It’s given me time to think.”

  His gut tightened. What was this? The kiss-off?

  “About me. And the future. And my job.”

  Zach felt his knees go weak. “Your job?”

  She nodded. “See, I thought I’d like real estate. Dealing with numbers, but in a different way.” She shrugged. “Now I see that it’s not for me. I don’t really feel comfortable trying to convince people to list a property with me or to buy one, for that matter.” She laughed. “I guess I proved it that night in New York. I think I must have made the worst presentation ever.”

  Zach slipped his arms around her.

  “What you proved that night,” he said softly, “was that there isn’t another woman like you in the world.”

  Jaimie smiled. “You proved the same thing, Zacharias. There’s no other man like you. No one.”

  Her words made his heart soar—and made it ache. Would she still think that once she knew the truth?

  He blanked out the thought, bent to her and kissed her.

  “The thing is,” she said, when the kiss ended, “I’ve decided to go back to what I know and love. Accounting. When we get home, I’m going to get in touch with some people I know and see if… Why are you looking at me that way?”

  The sun, enormous and scarlet and unimaginably beautiful, was just touching the sea.

  “There are accounting firms in Manhattan.”

  “Well, sure. But—”

  “Jaimie.” Zach slid his hands up her arms, clasped her shoulders. “Leave Washington. Come to New York.” He took a deep breath. “Live with me.”

  She stared at him. Her expression was unreadable. He’d caught her by surprise, but he’d caught himself by surprise, too. He’d never lived with a woman, never even considered it, but this was different. This was Jaimie. His Jaimie.

  “I’ve never lived with anyone.”

  He nodded. “Neither have I.”

  “It’s a—it’s a huge step.”

  He nodded again. “I know.”

  “A huge step,” she said again in a husky whisper. “I mean, what if it’s a mistake? What if it turns out we shouldn’t have—”

  “It won’t be a mistake.” His hands tightened on her. “I—I care for you, Jaimie. More than I ever imagined I’d care for anyone. I want to start my days looking at you across the breakfast table, end them with you in my arms at night.” He cleared his throat. “Move in with me, sweetheart. Say ‘yes.’”

  There were a thousand reasons to say no. Practical, logical, sensible reasons.

  There was one reason to say yes.

  That reason was Zacharias.

  Jaimie smiled. The smile became a soft laugh. Then she rose on her toes, wrapped her arms around her lover’s neck, and kissed him.

  “Yes,” she said, and because the sun was setting the sea on fire, Zach led her back to the patio, undressed her, and they made love with a sweetness that was beyond anything either of them had ever known before.

  * * * *

  The change of jobs, cities and living spaces turned out to be easy.

  Jaimie’s old firm had an opening in their New York office. They offered it to her with an increase in pay. Even her landlord, normally the worst sort of grump, said she could end her lease without penalty because, it turned out, he wanted her flat for his mother.

  Who knew that even grumpy landlords had mothers?

  She put her furniture, dishes, all her stuff in storage. All she needed were her computer and a couple of suitcases, and she was ready.

  Zach phoned his driver, quietly arranged to have John fly to Washington, pick up his Porsche and drive it back to Manhattan. He couldn’t let Jaimie know he’d had the car with him; she’d have asked why he’d rented the Prius.

  It was sleight of hand, and it reminded him that she still didn’t know the truth, but he assured himself that he would tell it to her, and soon.

  She moved into Zach’s amazing penthouse on a Thursday. And, the next evening, she finally faced the one thing she had yet to do.

  Call her sisters. Her brothers, too, but Emily and Lissa first. None of them knew what she’d done, that she’d left Washington, quit her job, gone back to accounting, moved to New York…

  Moved in with a man she’d never told them about.

  It was a lot to have done without ever saying anything to any of them.

  She knew that her brothers would want all the details. She was a grown woman, but they still thought of her, of all their sisters, as girls. There were times it drove the three of them nuts, but they loved their big brothers and they knew that being protective was how Jacob, Caleb and Travis showed that they loved them in return.

  The timing was perfect, because Zacharias phoned to say he’d be late.

  “Put a bottle of champagne in the fridge,” he said. “We’re going to celebrate.”

  “Have you forgotten? We celebrated last night.”

  His laughter came through the phone, low and sexy enough to make her wish he were there with her.

  “I haven’t forgotten a thing, babe. In fact, I’m planning an instant replay.”

  She smiled. “How late will you be?”

  “I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

  “You’d better.”

  He laughed. “Hold that thought.”

  Zach ended the call.

  He was the luckiest man on the planet. And tonight, they’d have a lot to celebrate.

  Steven Young was about to be history.

  His guys had found him. They’d tailed him for days. His man, Jerry, had just called with the details.

  Two nights ago, Bert, one of Zach’s guys, had followed Young to the townhouse where Jaimie had lived. Young had stood in the
shadows, staring at the house for hours.

  Bert had put in a call to the local cops. There were no charges to bring against Young but the cops had been alerted to the situation through Zach’s contacts. They’d showed up, four cars, four uniforms, hassled Young and run him off.

  Yesterday, Jerry had followed Young to what had been Jaimie’s office, where he’d demanded to know her whereabouts.

  “Young made threats. He’d done the same thing before, when you were out of the country. That time, security threw him out. This time things were worse. Young beat up the owner, some dude named Bengs. They called the cops, but Young got away.”

  Zach had pumped his fist in the air. Trespass or what a smart prosecutor could make stand as trespass. Assault. Things were adding up.

  “There’s more,” Jerry said. “During the night, he broke into the manager’s place. The woman who runs Stafford and Bengs? She’s maybe fifty-five, sixty. She’s the one who’d called the cops the day before. So Carl—who was covering Young from midnight to eight—called the precinct. He ended up breaking protocol. He went in himself when he heard the woman screaming.” His voice had flattened. “Young had beaten the shit out of her, Zach, and disappeared into the wild blue yonder. She’s in the hospital. Concussion. Fractured jaw. Fractured pelvis.”

  “He’s finished,” Zach said, his voice as flat as Jerry’s.

  “Oh, yeah. He’s done. Not all the high-powered connections in the world can get him out of this.”

  The news was everything Zach had hoped for.

  Delivering it to Jaimie was everything he feared.

  First things first. He had calls to make. To people he knew in D.C. The contacts he’d spoken with at the start of all this. He’d call Caleb, too, put his mind at rest, but first…

  Zach rubbed his hands over his face.

  First, he was going home. To Jaimie. Tell her everything.

  Tell her the only thing that mattered, the thing it had taken him until now to admit.

  He would tell her that he loved her.

  * * * *

  Normally, the Wilde sisters connected via Skype at least once a month, more than that when something was important. Well, this was important—but Skype wasn’t going to work.

  Emily and Marco, her fiancé, were in Rome. Jaimie checked her watch, did a little fast calculating and decided she didn’t want to wake her sister in the middle of the night.

  She’d call Lissa on her cell. It was faster.

  Lissa’s phone rang four times. Jaimie sighed, was about to disconnect when she heard Lissa say, “Jaimie?”

  Jaimie sank down on one of the kitchen stools in Zach’s condo.

  “I almost gave up,” she said. “I figured I was going to get your voice mail.”

  “How are you?” Lisa said. “We haven’t talked to each other in years!”

  “Weeks,” Jaimie said.

  “Seems longer.” Lissa sighed. “My fault as much as yours. I, uh, I changed jobs.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Locations, too.”

  “You’re not in Hollywood?”

  “Well, I am. And I’m not. I was working in this restaurant, remember?”

  “Sous chef. Right. In one of those the-house-salad-costs-fifty-bucks watering holes.”

  Lissa bit her lip. That wasn’t exactly accurate, but this wasn’t the time to try to explain it.

  “Right,” she said briskly. “So the thing is, I got the chance to, uh, to kind of go on location.”

  “With a movie crew?”

  “Yes. No. It’s complicated. The main thing is… Heck. What did you say? You changed jobs, too?”

  Jaimie took a deep breath. “I’m back in accounting.”

  “Is that good?”

  “It’s very good. I wasn’t cut out to be in real estate.” She hesitated. “And I moved. I’m living in Manhattan.”

  “New job, new digs. What kind of apartment? Better than that hole in the wall Emily lived in. No wonder she wouldn’t ever let us see it.”

  Jaimie licked her lips. This was the hard part.

  “I’m living on Fifty- Seventh and Fifth.”

  Lissa chuckled. “Right. And I’m living in Malibu.”

  “I’m serious, Liss.” Pause. Breathe. Go for it. “I met somebody.”

  “You met—”

  “A man. He’s—he’s amazing. He’s wonderful. And—and he asked me to live with him. And I am.”

  Silence.

  “Liss? Did you hear me?”

  “I heard. I’m just trying to figure out what to say. I thought you gave up men after you caught Donny Holloway making out with that redhead under the stands after that football game.”

  “Will you please be serious? That was high school. And I didn’t give up men. I just got busy with school, with prepping for the CPA exam, with my career—”

  “Who is he?”

  “I told you. He’s wonderful. I can’t wait until you meet him. I’m figuring on bringing him with me to Emily’s wedding in, what, two weeks?”

  “What does he do?”

  “He used to be a soldier.”

  Lissa laughed. “The boys will love him.”

  “And maybe some kind of, you know, spook. Like Caleb.”

  “Maybe?”

  “He doesn’t talk about it much.”

  “Exactly like Caleb. Our brothers are liable to make him an honorary Wilde.” Lissa’s voice softened. “Are you in love with him, James?”

  Jaimie shut her eyes, opened them again.

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?”

  “It’s—it’s too soon.” It wasn’t, and she knew it. She was in love with her Zacharias, deeply in love, but she was old-fashioned enough to want to hear him say it first. “The thing of it is, I’m happy.”

  “Ah. Well, I’m happy for you. You sound, you know, better than when we talked at Thanksgiving.”

  “You mean, when I told you about that man.”

  “The stalker. Yes.”

  Jaimie nodded as if her sister were in the room and could see her. “I haven’t even thought about him. I certainly haven’t seen him. I told Zacharias all about Steven Young and he said he would protect—”

  “Who?” Lissa said, her voice rising. “Who?”

  “Young. Steven Young. That’s the name of the man who—”

  “Not him. The other one. Zacharias. Who the hell is he?”

  “Zacharias Castelianos. My—my—the man I’m living with. I told him about what was happening and he said he would protect me and—”

  “Holy shit, James! You’re living with Zach Castelianos?”

  Jaimie stiffened. “You know him?”

  “Ex-Marine. Ex-Special Ops. Ex-spook. Runs a high-tech security firm. Damn right, I know him. Or I know of him. Jesus H. Christ, James—”

  “Stop cursing. And tell me what you’re talking about. How could you possibly know my Zacharias?”

  “I don’t know him. I know of him. And he’s not ‘your’ Zacharias. He’s Caleb’s.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Jaimie heard her sister take a long, long breath; heard her expel it. It was an old habit of Lissa’s. It was what she did right before she dropped bad news on you.

  Jaimie felt a cold chill race along her spin.

  “Liss. I said, what are you—”

  “You won’t like it. You won’t like any of it, James. Not my part, not Caleb’s—”

  “Goddammit, Lissa…”

  “You were so upset at Thanksgiving.”

  “I wasn’t. OK, I was, but until you started pestering me…” This time, it was Jaimie who drew a deep breath. “Just get to it. What do you know about Zacharias?”

  “You swore me to secrecy. About the Young guy.”

  “And?”

  “And, once I knew what was happening to you, I got pretty upset myself.”

  Jaimie put her elbow on the counter and lay her hand flat against her forehead.

  “Go on.”


  “You won’t like this.”

  “You already told me that. Go on. What did you do?”

  “I went to Caleb.”

  Jaimie groaned.

  “I know. I know, but, see, put yourself in my place. Imagine I’ve just told you some nut case is following me, that he’s been in my apartment. What would you do?”

  Why argue? The deed was done. “So, you went to Caleb.”

  “Right. He got all upset, too. He wanted to, you know, deal with Young his own way.”

  “What a surprise.”

  “He asked me for the details. Then he told me he’d take care of it. I said he couldn’t do that. You’d sworn me to secrecy.”

  “And a lot of good that did me.”

  “So Caleb said he’d ask someone he trusted to deal with Young. To protect you. And I said ‘who’ and he said Zach Castelianos.”

  Could a person actually feel the earth slip out from under their feet? Jaimie had never imagined that possible; now, she knew that it was.

  “He said—he said he’d ask—he’d ask Zacharias Castelianos? My Zacharias Castelianos?”

  “What are the odds of Caleb knowing two guys with a name like that?

  Tears scalded Jaimie’s eyes.

  “James? Jaimie, I’m so sorry.”

  “Yes,” Jaimie whispered. “Me, too.”

  Zacharias had not come for her because he’d wanted her or needed her or longed for her. He’d come to her because her brother had asked him to do it as a favor.

  She was a favor that one man did for another.

  It was why Zacharias had taken her to the Bahamas, why he’d asked her to move in with him. How much simpler it was to watch over someone when that someone was living right under your nose.

  “Jaimie? Honey? You still there?”

  Jaimie wiped the back of her hand across her eyes.

  “Still here,” she said, trying for bright and failing.

  “Look, I probably put the wrong spin on this, you know? Castelianos took one look at you and, uh, and he, you know, got interested.”

  “Of course,” Jaimie said, trying for bright again and still not managing it.

  “I mean, you’re not stupid. If you feel something for this guy, he must feel something for you. You can’t just be a—a—”