by Liz Ireland
His smile of relief was intense. “That’s all I’m asking, Jayde.”
She smiled in return. “Good. Then can I ask you something?”
With his thumbs, he rubbed her hands tenderly. “Anything.”
“Thank you.” She took a deep breath for courage. “Okay. If, when my parents leave and I…Okay, say you don’t like me as your wife then, um…will I still be fired?”
He laughed softly. “No, Jayde. If at the end of your parents’ visit here, you don’t want me to continue being your husband, then you’re not fired. And together we’ll come up with some plausible story to tell your family.”
She exhaled. All the bases were now covered. Except one. She looked everywhere around his bedroom. “So, Brad, while my parents are here…where do I sleep?”
SHE KNEW she was going to like the answer. Lying on her side, wearing only a slip, with Brad at her back, his arm flung around her waist, Jayde blinked herself awake. No, this wasn’t the first time she’d awakened in a man’s bed. But it was the first time she’d awakened in her, well, husband’s bed. Which was really interesting…because they’d never actually gotten married. Or even made love yet. And yet, here she was…pregnant.
Like that plot hadn’t fueled a hundred books throughout the history of fiction. Never again would she wonder where writers got their ideas.
Just then, she felt Brad stirring. His arm tightened around her, nearly cutting off her air. Afraid to make a noise, Jayde clung to her pillow, remaining very still. Suddenly, Brad tensed and went very still himself. No doubt, he’d discerned her presence in his arms…but maybe he couldn’t remember who or why.
“It’s me, Brad. Jayde. It’s okay. Nothing happened.” Now why had she said that? Did she fear he’d think his virtue had been compromised? Anyway, wasn’t it supposed to be the man who said stuff like that?
“Jayde. My God.” From the flutter of activity now behind her, she figured he was trying to extricate himself from her…and wondering what exactly his house sitter was doing in her slip and in his bed.
Taking a deep breath in a vain effort to tamp down her acute self-consciousness, Jayde carefully turned over. Supporting himself on an elbow, he looked even more handsome in the light of sleep-tousled morning than he did in starlight. Just great. She figured she probably looked hideous, with her hair all knotted. Keeping the covers up around her neck, Jayde said, “Hi”, then awkwardly swiped her hair out of her eyes. That had to be a glamorous picture. She tried to smile, but it wasn’t happening. She tried again, forcing it, as well as her chipper voice. “So, good morning. Hey, look—it’s us. In bed. Together. Isn’t this a surprise?”
As if he needed that pointed out to him. “Is it getting hot in here, or is it just me?” she blurted. She felt certain that if he didn’t say something soon—and if her body didn’t stop jumping through some majorly erotic hoops just because he was so close and approximately naked—then, this down comforter of his was going to burst into flames. It was that simple. “So what time do we need to be at the yacht?” she asked in a desperate attempt to not burst into flames.
Brad blinked. “The yacht?”
“We’re taking it out today, right?”
He nodded. “Oh. Yeah. Right. Weather permitting.”
Thank God, the weather. The world’s most innocuous topic. “Oh, I see,” she said quite conversationally, as if they were fully clothed strangers seated next to each other in a hotel lobby somewhere. “What kind of weather will we need?”
He shrugged. “Relatively calm waters. A warm day. Clear skies. Not too much wind.”
“I see. Sounds beautiful. And not too much to ask here in Florida, even in January, right?”
“Right.”
And then suddenly, the flame ignited and Brad leaned over her, capturing her mouth with his. He took her in his arms, she pulled him down atop her, and their kiss deepened. They ended up naked and rolling around with total and reckless abandon, their hands feverishly all over each other. It was a lovemaking frenzy, a complete release of pent-up desire and hunger. It was awe-inspiring. A tangle of arms and legs and wet kisses and twisted covers and hungry caresses and touches and sighs and gasps…and coupling. Three exhaustive times.
And then, when the room quit spinning, when they could get a breath, one of them had said they’d better get up. And so they had—and then the flame ignited again in the shower.
All this before coffee. And all before 9:00 a.m.
Which left a lot of time for yachting, as it turned out. Being on the water was a wonderful and exhilarating experience. Jayde’s parents couldn’t get over the beautiful sights. But all she could focus on was the vessel’s beautiful captain…who insisted on winking and blowing her secretive kisses.
JAYDE FOUND HERSELF wondering when shopping had become such an erotic art. As they walked around ritzy St. Armand’s Circle on Friday, peeking into every shop, it seemed Brad had insisted on buying her folks everything they picked up or tried on. Even Jayde’s sisters and brothers would be astonished with the things Brad had picked out. The Greenes’ money was good, it turned out, only when spent on themselves and their kids. And Jayde? Well, every dress, pair of pants or shoes, sunglasses, blouse, knickknack, and piece of jewelry she picked up or admired became hers. It was embarrassing…especially when the man insisted on coming into the dressing room with her.
The only moment of reality had come when, in one of the many fine jewelry stores dotting the area, Brad had lightheartedly suggested that Jayde help him pick out a wedding band for himself. She’d become quiet, her heart in her eyes, and had said no. No one had said anything, but the subject had been promptly dropped, and they’d left the store.
Otherwise, everyone—shoppers and store clerks, alike—in each successive store had been thrilled to have Bradford Hale frequent their establishment. Jayde had been certain everyone would be scandalized by their excessive spending, but in truth, onlookers had seemed charmed, especially when Brad had sought their opinions. But Jayde hadn’t counted on the unstoppable Maxine Greene telling everyone within earshot that the young couple were newlyweds and that her daughter, the famous artist, was having a show at the Carlyle Art Gallery on Sunday at 2:00 p.m. Why didn’t they all come?
By late Saturday evening, all dressed in their new finery and returning from an elegant dinner at the swanky Longboat Key Club restaurant, the Greenes and the Hales were high on fun. They knew every store, restaurant and beautiful beach walk in the Sarasota area. They also knew every historic point of interest in the area. They’d been to an art fair, a book fair, a jazz festival, a food tasting, and a wine tasting. And they’d pronounced Brad and Lyle as great hosts.
As Jayde undressed in what she still thought of as Brad’s bedroom that night, she reflected that not once during the past few days had she and Brad been more than a few feet from each other’s side. She smiled, remembering. They’d laughed and loved and it had been easy. As if they’d known each other all their lives. They’d spent some wonderful quiet time talking and really getting to know each other…and maybe even falling in love with each other, although it hadn’t been specifically said.
A heartfelt sigh escaped Jayde as she slipped out of her dress. She chuckled softly remembering her and Brad’s late-night foray into her real bedroom to secretly retrieve her clothes and toiletries without her parents seeing them. They’d been like children on Christmas Eve, sneaking through the house. But through it all, nothing of significance had changed. Their relationship was still all a sham, really. Just the two of them playing in a beautiful world Jayde couldn’t call her own. Never before had she been so uplifted and yet so sad.
Someone had once said that all good things must come to an end. Jayde went over to the walk-in closet to hang up her black sheath dress. And that day, for her, was tomorrow. Sunday. Her much awaited gallery showing. Just the thought had her stomach rumbling nervously. True to form last Thursday, Brad had set up the showing with his friend, Dirk Halliburton. It had seemed a little
suspicious that Brad had insisted he do that without her along, but still, she’d agreed and then watched as he and Lyle loaded up all her paintings. Jayde had been sure the proprietor would have wanted to meet the artist and talk with her about presentation form, if nothing else. But Brad had assured her that Mr. Halliburton had been speechless when he’d seen her renderings.
As Jayde reached for a hanger, she focused on her nervousness, finally admitting its cause. The showing suddenly seemed inconsequential in the face of her parents leaving Monday morning. Because maybe she’d be leaving, too. Jayde hung her dress up and then turned, flopping down onto the upholstered ottoman in the closet. There it was—she was thinking of leaving, even though she didn’t have to.
Brad had said that she could stay on, even if they hadn’t arrived at some sort of resolution by the time her parents left. And, they hadn’t. Okay, she hadn’t. Brad seemed happy enough to just keep going on as they were, only for real. Only Jayde still couldn’t see a marriage between them working…for all the reasons she’d already given him. And she couldn’t stay. No way was she going to spend her days and nights wandering through this house alone once Brad left again on business. She’d have nothing to do but think about how she and Brad had been here together, loving each other. She couldn’t help thinking that was how married life would be—him always gone, her here pining for him.
This was awful. She even loved the darned house. Whereas a few days ago, it had overwhelmed and intimidated her, now she thought of it as familiar and comfortable. It was home. Even JOCK was a sort of friend. At least now he was nice to her, unfailingly doing her bidding and doing nothing to embarrass her in front of her parents. Okay, that part was a bit scary, but there you have it.
She’d have to give her notice and leave. That was it. She wasn’t a gold digger and she couldn’t live with having people think she’d married Bradford Hale for his money. Nor could she live with the thought that it might be true, that she had sold out, that she’d given up her dream of being successful in her own right as an artist.
On the other hand, what if she did marry Brad and then became successful? Wouldn’t she always wonder if his influence had anything to do with it? She couldn’t stand that thought. And the last thing she wanted was to end up hating him, or herself, for something neither of them could help.
All right, so she had integrity. How comforting. But did it mean she had to give up everything and everyone here she’d come to care about, just so she could chase the dream of being successful in her own right? But it was more than a dream; she knew it in her bones. She could and would be a successful artist one day.
She sat up and looked around her. It was as her mother had said…she was sitting pretty. And she wanted to stay, to make everything real. But it had to be on an equal basis, an equal partnership, with Brad. She wanted to feel that she, too, had brought something of value to the partnership. The truth was, she didn’t want to lose herself—she didn’t want to become Mrs. Bradford Hale, and that was all. There was more to her.
But what if there wasn’t? That would be pretty bad. Brad deserved more than that. No one had to tell her that a man like him would soon lose interest in a woman who was nothing more than the total of her parts. Great. Sadness overwhelmed Jayde as she got up and walked into the bedroom. She stopped, her hand on the closet doorknob. Brad was just coming out of the bathroom. His face lit up when he saw her…but then he looked into her eyes. His smile slowly faded.
Jayde wanted to die. He knew. She felt as if her bones suddenly were frozen. When had it become true that love alone wasn’t enough? She admitted it now to herself…she loved Brad Hale. And judging by the look on his face, he loved her, too.
11
THAT NIGHT, Brad made love to Jayde with special tenderness. He held her gently, caressing her, stroking every inch of her sweet body, learning her, inhaling her…feasting on her sweetness. And she gave herself to him completely, as if she, too, did not want the night to end. Afterward, he rested his head on her belly, holding her tightly around her slim waist, trying not to think, not to give up. Trying not to cry.
She was leaving. She’d said it, but she hadn’t really needed to. It was there on her face. And he had to admit, her reasons were good ones. Then, during their lovemaking, she’d said she loved him. And he’d told her that he loved her. But still, there was something more she needed that he couldn’t give her, some emptiness down deep in her soul that he couldn’t fill. An identity. Or was it a sense of accomplishment? She’d said she didn’t want to lose herself in him. And yet, he’d already lost himself in her.
Still, he knew it was different. While he’d drowned in the sound of her voice, had lost himself in her laughter, she’d felt lost in his persona. Never before had Brad thought that being who he was could cause him to lose in the game of love. Not in a world where women regularly threw themselves at him. But now the one he wanted wouldn’t stay. It was the craziest thing. But, hell, she’d never pretended otherwise. Try as he might, Brad couldn’t deny that, any more than he could bestow on her a sense of self-esteem. He couldn’t understand it—to him, she was incredibly talented. She was one of the most successful people he’d ever met—successful at being a wonderful person and making everyone she met feel they were, too. Surely, that counted for something.
Not in the real world. And he knew that. Hers was not a marketable commodity. People like her were chewed up and spit out everyday. He’d even done his share. And that caused him shame…and suddenly had him cheering her on. Why? Because he knew exactly how she felt. His identity, his destiny, after all, had been handed to him on a silver platter. He’d been born with his life and his career laid out for him. He’d had no choice but to be Bradford Ellsworth Hale, rich kid. Wasn’t this a strange turn of events? He was jealous of her. And yet all she wanted was a chance to be just like him.
Ah, irony. Brad pulled himself up and cradled her in his arms. In only a moment or so, she was sleeping, her breathing soft and regular. Smiling, Brad stared up at the patterns dancing across the ceiling in his bedroom. A full moon and light wind provided the kaleidoscope of images above him. But he didn’t really see them.
It was true. He’d never had the choices Jayde did. God, how he admired her for seeking her own way. For stepping out into the world with no safety net. Just taking a huge chance on herself. Brad had no idea how that felt. Money was an insulation, but so were a straitjacket and a padded cell. What would he have been or done if he hadn’t been born wealthy? He chuckled. He’d have probably become the same thing he was now. An international investment banker. Because the truth was, it was what interested him, what drove him, what intrigued him. Or it had been, anyway, until he’d met one Jayde Alyssa Greene.
And now she alone consumed him. He’d ignored everything since he’d met her. His business meetings, the faxes, the phone calls, you name it. All in the name of love…star-crossed love, as it turned out, ironically, just like Romeo and Juliet. Brad remembered their balcony scene of the other night. She was so damned funny. Especially in her fights with JOCK—whom she appeared to have soundly whipped…thanks, Brad knew, to a bit of tinkering with JOCK’s programming. And then there was Lyle, who stood prepared to take on anyone who looked sideways at her. He lightly kissed Jayde’s forehead. She murmured in her sleep and settled herself against him. Aching inside, slowly dying, Brad held her tightly.
How in the hell was he ever going to let her go? And what would he do with himself once she did leave? Brad exhaled sharply, fighting the little demon that told him he should just buy all her damned awful paintings and let her think she was successful. Then she would stay. He’d thought of that more than once. But he knew he couldn’t do it—it would destroy her if she ever found out. And she would eventually. Then she’d hate him. And he wouldn’t blame her.
So now all he had to do now was figure out a way to say goodbye to her. And prepare himself, as well as Lyle and JOCK, to live with the emptiness she would leave in her wake.
&nb
sp; “OHMIGOSH, Brad, no one’s going to come. I just knew it. This is so embarrassing. I am going to die.”
“You’re not going to die.”
“Yes, I am. Look at my parents. They’re just so proud of me. And here the place is so empty you could hear crickets chirp.” She grabbed Brad by the arm. “Whose stupid idea was it to have this dumb showing, anyway?”
“I believe it was yours. All I did was set it up.”
Jayde grimaced. “Well, you picked a fine time to start listening to me, didn’t you? I mean, just look around. The walls are covered with my horrible paintings. Ick. The only good things about them are the beautiful frames Mr. Halliburton set them in.”
Brad sighed. “They’re not horrible, Jayde. They’re…fine.”
She turned on him. “They’re fine? Wow, what an endorsement. Mr. Halliburton’s reputation is on the line—along with mine—and all you can say is they’re fine? He’ll be thrilled.”
“Jayde, will you stop it? Nothing’s wrong here. The gallery is empty, because this is the preparty. The showing won’t start for another ten minutes. Now, calm down. Have a drink.” He plucked a champagne flute full of the bubbly stuff off the tray of a passing waiter and handed it to her. “Here. Drink.”
She did. She drained it…just as she had the two previous ones Brad didn’t know about. It was a good thing her parents hadn’t seen her—with her being in the family way and all. Then she looked up at him…and her heart melted. “Oh, Brad you poor thing, you look so tired. Did you not sleep well?” She felt guilty for even asking, she knew she was the reason. After telling him last night that she would be leaving, she was darned lucky he was still acting like her “husband.”
