It was becoming increasingly obvious that nothing ever got in Jack’s way.
Chapter Four
I woke up in Jack’s bed at midnight and couldn’t go back to sleep. I had a sudden but urgent need to sleep in my own bed, by myself. I’ve always been kind of a loner, and my body longed for the solitude of my saggy double bed, with the quilt that was rubbed soft and shiny around the edges. I knew if I woke up Jack, the possibility of more sex far outweighed that of a ride home.
And so it was that I found myself on the streets of Jack’s Beacon Hill neighborhood, walking six blocks to the Charles Street Station to take the subway back to my apartment. I felt the ice crunch under my heels and began to regret not calling a cab. I’d lived in Boston for six years, but I couldn’t seem to throw off my penny-pinching Midwestern roots.
I turned the corner off Jack’s street and heard footsteps behind me, but before I could even turn around to look, I felt my purse being ripped off my shoulder. I stumbled a bit but stayed on my feet. By the time I could focus in the dark, I saw two men who were already halfway down the block, surprisingly sure-footed on the icy sidewalk.
“Hey!” I yelled, and started to run, more out of instinct than a belief that I could actually catch them. The irony of being robbed in posh Beacon Hill, by thugs who probably lived in my neighborhood, was not lost on me. “Stop! Please, I don’t even live here, I’m from Savin Hill… The damn purse is from JC Penney, for Christ’s—”
And then I was facedown in the street, my heel stuck in a drainage grate. I froze for a moment, catching my breath, taking inventory of my body. My ankle throbbed, and I tasted blood from where I’d bitten the inside of my cheek, but I wasn’t badly hurt. I heard a dog bark from across the street and tried to sit up. When that didn’t work, I just buried my head in the crook of my elbow and moaned, feeling the grit of dirt and ice under my fingers.
In what seemed like seconds, but was probably closer to five minutes, a squad car pulled up with an ambulance close behind. I finally sat up and begged them not to take me to the hospital, but the paramedic really thought someone should look at that ankle. I wanted to tell her that someone should really shut their goddamn mouth, but I was so cold even the warmth of the ambulance sounded good. A cop took my statement, and then a man from the ambulance asked if I wanted to call anyone, and I stared at him blankly.
Logic said to call Jack—he could come to the hospital with me, then take me home or back to his place. But when I tried to imagine him, dressed in his Brooks Brothers camel coat, seeing me bruised and filthy, I just couldn’t. His presence would be more nerve-wracking than comforting, and don’t think that realization didn’t make my heart hurt more than my ankle.
So I took the cell phone and called April. But it was one am, and she didn’t answer. I left a voicemail, forcing levity into my voice so she wouldn’t worry—I was such a klutz, I fell off the sidewalk, could she swing by and pick me up at Mass General? Hopefully she’d get the message in the next few hours, because I had nothing—no cell phone, no purse, no money. I felt tears of self-pity rising as I hung up the phone and focused on the blinking monitors in the ambulance as we drove the few short blocks to the hospital. The overly cautious paramedic busied herself applying ice to my ankle, which actually stemmed my tears and made me laugh, because they’d found me in the damn snow.
In the unique time-continuum found in all emergency rooms, it took three hours for them to x-ray my ankle and determine it was sprained. I nodded off as a sullen nurse wrapped my foot and awakened a few minutes later to a hand on my shoulder, and a deep voice saying, “Lexi…Lexi…look at me…”
And I opened my eyes and saw Dan.
“Lexi, are you all right?”
“What are you doing here?”
He put his hand over mine. “I just popped by to see what was up.”
I tried to smile but started crying instead. I knew it would piss Dan off so I tried to stop, but the tears had a mind of their own, so I just sat there, gulping and sobbing. “Shit,” I whispered.
“It’s okay. You’re okay.”
“Shit,” I repeated, but he helped me sit up, and I managed to get my wits about me.
“Seriously, what are you doing here? Who called you?”
“Your friend April. She got your message, but she’s in Schenectady.”
“Oh God, her stepbrother’s wedding, I totally forgot.”
He called the nurse and got a wheelchair, and I sat there like an overgrown baby in a stroller as they wheeled me to the check-out desk. When we got to Dan’s car, he helped me slide into his front seat, then reached across and fastened my seatbelt. He was being so nice it made me nervous, as if they’d told him they discovered a brain tumor when they were checking the dilation of my eyes.
“You’ll have to tell me where you live—somewhere in Dorchester, right?”
“Yeah, Savin Hill… But it’s the middle of the night, Dan, you can just drop me at the T if you want. It’s a straight shot on the red line.”
“Jesus, Lexi, shut up.”
Okay, so there was no brain tumor. I felt slightly better and tipped my head back on the seat cushion behind me. I must have fallen asleep, because before I knew it he was shaking my shoulder gently. “Hey, Lex,” he whispered.
“Mmm?”
“What’s your address? I need to put it in the GPS.”
I told him and went immediately back to sleep. When I woke again, he was pulling me out of the front seat, carrying me to my front door.
“Dan.”
“What?”
“Put me down, I can walk”
“Yeah, but you’re slow as hell, and it’s freezing out here.”
I buried my head in his shoulder. “I’m too heavy.” He didn’t speak, just grunted a bit. “Am I too heavy?”
“Yes, you weigh a ton, okay?”
We made it to the front door, and he balanced me on one foot while retrieving my spare key from under the potted plant on the porch. Once inside, he led me to the couch and took my coat.
“Do you want something to drink?” he asked, standing in front of me like a waiter.
“No, no…you can go, I’m fine.” I looked at my lap. I didn’t want him to see my face, because then he’d know that I really wanted him to stay. But he must have sensed something anyway, because he sat down beside me on the couch.
“Does your ankle hurt? They gave you a prescription for some pain pills—I can go down to Rite Aid and get it filled for you.”
“No, it doesn’t hurt that bad. I think the inside of my mouth hurts worse than my ankle.”
We were silent for a moment, listening to the wind slapping across the ancient windows of my apartment, making them rattle. Then, without saying anything, he put his arm around me and eased me down so I was stretched out, my head pillowed in his lap. After another moment, he started stroking my hair. My eyes were closed, my breathing shallow.
“Lex.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
“What? Why? You yell at me all the time.”
“No I don’t.”
“Wanna bet?” I waited for him to argue, but he didn’t.
“I’m sorry for all those times.”
Another long silence, as if our conversation was taking place in slow motion, or underwater.
“Dan?”
“Hmm?” His hand still stroked my hair, his fingers lifting single strands, then dropping them.
“Are you saying you’re sorry because they told you to at the hospital? ‘Be nice to her, she’s terribly overwrought.’”
“Shhh. Relax.”
“See? You sound like a hostage negotiator.”
He sighed heavily. It was the sigh he always used to let me know how much I tried his patience. It was familiar, comforting. I went to sleep.
My throbbing ankle woke me a few hours later. I lifted my head and saw that Dan was asleep, his head bent at an awkward angle against the back of the couch. I sat
up and looked at him. His eyelashes were ridiculously long for a man. They were black, and looked like tiny little fans against his cheeks. His mouth was open a bit, and I had a weird desire to touch his bottom lip with the pad of my index finger, so I did.
“Huh,” he groaned as he opened his eyes. He accidentally kissed my finger before I had the chance to pull it away.
“Dan, it’s four in the morning. You can go home now. Or if you’re too tired to drive, go sleep in my bed—I’m fine here on the couch.”
“No, I’m okay. Lie back down, you need to rest.” His voice was so comforting, it was like he was singing a lullaby.
“My mom used to make me tomato soup and Ritz crackers when I wasn’t feeling well,” I murmured. Where did that come from?
“Would you like some?” he asked, rubbing his eyes roughly with the heels of his hands.
“No, no…I was just remembering. I don’t even like tomato soup, but I never told my mom. I didn’t have the heart.”
“My mom always made me grilled cheese sandwiches. With Velveeta cheese.” He looked down at me, his gaze wistful. I wondered if he was thinking about his mom in the nursing home. I changed the subject.
“My ankle hurts.”
“I can go to Rite Aid and get you those pills. The one down the street is open twenty-four hours.”
“No, it’s okay, it’s not that bad. But I do have some ibuprofen in the bathroom—would you mind getting it for me? It’s in the medicine cabinet by the sink.”
“Sure.”
When he came back he had the ibuprofen, and a blanket and pillow from my bed. He helped me sit up and gave me the pills and some water, then eased me down onto the pillow. He tucked me in with the blanket, and I felt awkward—exposed, almost.
He stood beside the couch for a long moment. “When I was a kid, my mom would tuck me in, and we’d play this game where she traced messages on the palm of my hand, and I had to guess what she had written.” He smiled at the memory.
“Do it to me,” I demanded sleepily.
So he picked up my hand and started tracing letters gently on my skin.
“Close your eyes, Lexi,” I whispered.
“Good.” He traced some more.
“I’m glad you are okay.” My voice broke on “okay”. I figured it was because I was so tired.
He squeezed my hand and placed it under the blanket. Then he sat on the floor with his back propped against the couch. We both fell asleep, but when I woke up, he was gone.
As soon as Jack heard what happened to me, he came to my place with Chinese takeout and a half-dozen DVDs, which made me feel guilty for sneaking out of his house to begin with.
“Why didn’t you call me?” he demanded, propping my foot up with a cushion, a little ill-at-ease in the caretaker role. Jack’s entire life revolved around people catering to him.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you. I seriously thought I’d just get up, dust off my skirt, and walk the rest of the way to the T, but then the cops and the ambulance showed up…” I didn’t want to tell him the real reason I hadn’t called.
“Well, I hope you’ve learned your lesson.” He sat beside me on the bed.
“What, that I should stick to my own neighborhood, where the criminals know I’m broke?”
“No, that you should never leave my bed until I’m done with you.” He grinned and edged his palm between my thighs. God, he was gorgeous. Like movie-star, fairy-tale-prince gorgeous. When he smiled, his eyes crinkled at the edges. They were the color of twilight. A familiar twinge of desire shot down my spine, and heat pooled between my legs.
“Jack,” I said reluctantly, as he leaned in for a kiss.
“Hmm?” He planted his lips on my neck when I turned my head to the side.
“I can’t…I mean, I’m pretty bruised up, I think I’d better lay off the heavy petting for a day or two.”
He lifted his head to look at me blankly. I seriously doubted that anyone had ever denied Jack Brogan sex.
“Are you sure?” His grin was back, his hand sliding farther up my thigh, cupping me fully. He took my hand and placed it on his crotch.
“Jack…” God knew it was tempting, but I felt like I’d been hit by a Mack truck. He sighed and moved away.
“Okay, I’m sorry. You just drive me crazy.” He kissed the top of my head. “I’ll leave you to rest. But if you need anything, promise you’ll call me, okay?”
I nodded, even though his phone number was in my stolen cell phone, and I didn’t have it memorized. But it didn’t matter.
I went back to work on Tuesday, so embarrassed by the huge, plastic boot on my foot that I used the garage entrance to the building. I limped to my desk, my head low, feeling awkward and embarrassed to see Dan, who didn’t even look up from his computer screen.
“Morning,” I muttered. He acted surprised to see me, even though I knew he wasn’t.
“Hey. How are you feeling?”
“Better. Thanks.”
He nodded, then looked back at his computer. I was dismissed.
“Thanks for Friday night too. I mean, you kind of snuck out, and I didn’t get a chance to tell you how much I appreciated your help.”
“No problem.”
“No, really, you saved me. I didn’t have anyone else to call.”
He said nothing. I knew my attempts at conversation were making him uncomfortable, so I shut up. I opened my bottom drawer and shoved my purse in it. He went back to a report he was working on, and I turned on my printer.
“Why didn’t you call Jack?”
“What?”
“Nothing. Never mind.”
“I guess I just—”
“I said never mind,” he mumbled, and then he stood up and left.
Chapter Five
For the next four days, Dan was out of the office more often than he was there. I had no idea what was up, and since he remained his usual chatty self, I remained in the dark. At first, it seemed strange to work alone, like I was a kid left at home by my parents for the first time. By the end of the week, though, I was behaving like a Kardashian, cranking up the radio on my desk, eating honey-roasted peanuts out of the can, shopping online for some face cream April swore would make my skin as soft as velvet. In fact, I was engaging in all of the above when Dan walked in the office on Friday afternoon. Of course I didn’t hear him come in. Dan’s raison d’être was to scare the living crap out of me.
“What the hell?”
“Oh, shit.” My mouth was full of peanuts. I dropped the can on my desk and slapped the top of the radio to turn it off.
And then I almost fell off my chair, because Dan grinned. Honest-to-God grinned. He had really nice teeth—not too big, but straight and white.
“C’mon,” he said.
“Huh?”
“Come. On.” He paused for a second. “No questions.”
My mind started spinning. Was he mad? Had the peanuts crossed some invisible line? Was he going to fire me so he would no longer be bothered with tawdry late-night rescue missions?
“Where are we going?”
“Just come on,” he moaned, but then he grinned—again! I couldn’t help it, I grinned back.
“Fine, Mr. Mysterious, no questions. What’s in the bag?”
“Jeeesus.”
“Okay, okay…”
By the time we got to his car, I was feeling downright giddy. It was three o’clock in the afternoon, and I couldn’t remember leaving the office so early in…ever.
“Can you at least give me a hint?”
“No.”
“If I guess and I’m right, will you tell me?”
“No.”
“Are we going somewhere nice? Do I need lipstick?”
“No.”
“No, we’re not going somewhere nice, or no, I don’t need lipstick?”
“God, are you incapable of shutting up?”
We sat in silence for a moment.
“May I ask a question that’s not about whe
re we’re going?”
“No.”
“Please?”
He pretended to think about it. “Okay.”
“Do you think I talk too much?”
That earned me a sideways smile, and I felt warm inside, pleased to have pleased him. By now I’d figured out that we were going to my apartment, and I began to get a little nervous, trying to remember if I’d left dirty dishes in the sink, or my bras hanging off the mantel to dry. By the time we pulled up to my front door, I’d done a mental inventory and decided there was nothing there Dan couldn’t see.
“Well, thanks for the ride home, Boss.” I opened the door and let myself out, and he followed me silently. He had the bag in his hand again, so I reached over and grabbed it while I was pretending to search for my keys in the bottom of my purse. He didn’t try to take it back, just followed me through the front door. When I peeked in the bag, I let out a snort of laughter.
“What did you do, mug a women’s self-defense instructor?” One by one, I pulled out pepper spray, a flashlight, a keychain alarm that looked more like a vibrator—I snorted again as I imagined Dan buying it—and some contraption that resembled a plastic clock radio with too many wires. “What’s this?”
“It’s an alarm for your door—you can connect it to the front windows too.”
“What in the world for?” I asked. My apartment complex was large and well-lit. It may not be in the best neighborhood, but I never feared for my safety.
“Well, if you’re determined to walk the streets of Boston alone at all hours of the night, I thought you might want some protection.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Oh, like you did last Friday?” His tone was just patronizing enough to tick me off.
“I didn’t ask for your help,” I huffed.
“No, your friend April asked for my help. You were so stupid you weren’t going to ask for anyone’s help, were you? What if you’d ended up dead in a ditch?”
“Then I guess you’d be stuck without an assistant. But hey, there are plenty more where I came from, so don’t knock yourself out.” God, why was I being such a bitch?
An Unexpected Love Page 3
