by Karen Booth
Isabel reached into her purse and pulled out a lip balm, glossing it over her sumptuous lips. “Sorry. It’s so dry out this time of year.”
Jeremy cleared his throat, trying to keep from admiring her mouth.
“And it’s okay that you’re down on love,” she continued. “I get it. I’ve been burned a few times, too.”
“Oh yeah? Anybody I know?”
Isabel smirked. “Like I would actually tell you. And no, I’m guessing you don’t know him. He was...” She pursed her lips and furrowed her brow. “Let’s just say that he wasn’t much for the idea of commitment.”
He nodded, knowing all too well what it was like to be on the business end of someone who was willing to take promises and devotion and toss them in the trash. “That’s a problem for a lot of guys.” It didn’t used to be an issue for Jeremy at all. He was once the guy who said “I love you” at the drop of a hat. He used to be the sort of man who made romantic gestures any day of the week, not just on Valentine’s Day, Christmas and anniversaries. But when you’re endlessly giving, and that generosity is labeled as “not enough,” it’s hard to see the point in making an effort. At his age, Jeremy wasn’t convinced it would ever be worth it to try.
“I was probably asking too much of this guy. But it was just the situation we were in. I try not to harbor too many bad feelings about it. Holding on to that stuff will eat you alive.”
“What was he like? The guy who couldn’t commit?”
Surprise crossed Isabel’s face. “Why do you want to know?”
Jeremy shrugged it off as trivial, but he was so interested in the answer he wasn’t sure he could take it if she declined. Perhaps it was because he was still trying so damn hard to figure out what made her tick. “I don’t know. Curious, I guess.”
She got up from the bed, placed her hand on his shoulder and peered up into his eyes. “Don’t worry. He wasn’t nearly as cute as you.”
Jeremy fought to hold back the full force of the smile that wanted to spread across his face. He loved their back-and-forth. He loved talking to her. For the first time in his entire career, he couldn’t have been more excited about negotiations if he tried. “Honestly, I’m surprised you ever had a single man walk away from you. You seem like the type of woman who does the burning.”
“I may run hot, but I know better than to set a good thing on fire.”
Jeremy swallowed hard.
“And on that note,” she said, pulling a legal pad out of her laptop bag, “I think we should get to work.”
Nine
The snow kept falling, and Isabel and Jeremy kept working. In the moments when the negotiation grew particularly complicated or even contentious, both Isabel and Jeremy would stare out the window of his home office, watching the fat flakes drift to earth. They were hypnotic and calming, and they both seemed to need the escape, and what a perfect setting, tucked away in Jeremy’s cozy office, the room lined with books and decorated with masculine furniture in dark wood and leather.
“It’s really coming down out there.” Jeremy tossed a pen onto the small conference table they were working at and leaned back in his office chair. He stretched his arms high over his head, causing the hem of his sweater to inch up, revealing a peek of his stomach.
Isabel was nothing if not incredibly distracted by this subtle reminder that her hands, and her mouth for that matter, had once been all over his incredible torso. “It is. The sky’s getting dark, too.”
Chair tilted back at an angle, Jeremy consulted his watch. “It’s nearly five. Do you want to keep going? Or we could take a break.”
Isabel flipped through her notes—they’d made so much progress on a compromise for the interest calculations on the loan repayment, along with a schedule for getting Mr. Summers his money. But there were other options she was hoping she’d convince Jeremy to run by his client. “Depends on how generous you’re feeling about talking through the alternate forms of repayment I’ve proposed.”
“We’ve been over this, Isabel. Do you really think that’s a good idea? Give my client a chunk of Eden’s in exchange for the loan? Right now, both parties despise each other.”
“Ten percent is hardly a chunk. It’s not like your client would have any control. Just enough to make him a tidy sum every year.”
“I really don’t see it. With the volatility in retail, I’d have a hard time advising him to take that.”
“The store is doing great.”
He was still sitting with his chair leaned all the way back, hands clasped and resting on top of his head. He raised both eyebrows and looked down his nose at her. It was inexplicably hot. “If it was truly doing great, you’d be able to fork over the money and we wouldn’t be discussing this at all.”
“What about a piece of the online business? Would you be happier with that?”
“I’d need to see the numbers.”
“Okay, then. Let’s get it done.”
“Such a shark. Gotta keep swimming, huh?”
“We’re so close to figuring this out.”
An hour later, everything but the smallest of details had been ironed out. “Did we really just do that?” Jeremy asked, seeming incredulous.
“We did.” Isabel surveyed the landscape of the meeting table, which was strewn with papers, files and notes. She couldn’t help but feel at least a little jubilant, even though she knew from experience that things could fall apart any time. For now, she would be happy. She held up her hand and reached across the table. “High five?”
“Yes.” Jeremy smiled and smacked his hand against hers. “Good job.”
From the doorway, Cat meowed loudly, then padded her way to Jeremy. It was at least the fifth or sixth such interruption.
“She seems restless,” Isabel said. “I wonder if it’s close to kitten time. Has she nested anywhere in the house?”
Jeremy reached down to show Cat some affection. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“Nesting. Finding herself a safe and cozy spot to have the kittens.”
“The vet had me put a blanket in a cardboard box, but I can’t get her to stay in it. She’s been sleeping on the floor of my closet since she got here.”
It was adorable how truly clueless Jeremy was about this. “My guess is she’s planning on giving birth in there.”
“Seriously?” His eyes went wide with horror. “In my closet?”
“Why don’t you show me?”
“Yeah. Absolutely. No more reason to hang out in here today.”
Jeremy got up from his chair and Isabel followed him out of the room, down the hall to the last door on the left. Inside was a magnificent and sumptuous bedroom, tastefully decorated with a warm touch. The bed seemed to go on forever, with a charcoal-gray duvet and plump pillows. Overhead, a wrought iron chandelier gave the space a soft glow. The windows, overlooking the back patio, brought in the perfect amount of natural light.
“No wonder you’ve never needed a sleep mask. This room is so peaceful. I think I could sleep in here for days.”
Jeremy smiled. “You don’t need that thing at home, do you? I mean, if you aren’t staying in a hotel?”
Isabel brushed her fingers on the silky soft bedding. “Depends on how worn out I am.” She instantly regretted her choice of words, especially when Jeremy cocked an eyebrow.
Cat sauntered into the room and darted right into the closet.
“I’m telling you, you’re about to have a bunch of kittens in with your designer suits and Italian leather shoes.” Isabel nodded at the closet. “May I?”
“Please. Be my guest.”
Isabel stepped inside and Jeremy was right behind her, flipping on the light. Either Jeremy was an incredibly smart man or his ex had been highly concerned with her appearance. His closet had the sort of lighting you find at a cosmetics counter, gentle enough to
make anyone look amazing. Which of course meant that Jeremy appeared flawless, even with his stubble showing the effects of late day.
“She’s been sleeping down here.” Jeremy pulled back a row of dress shirts to reveal the back corner, where sure enough, Cat had made herself a bed. “Hey. Wait a minute. That’s my favorite T-shirt.” He crouched down. Isabel knelt next to him. “I wondered where that went. I took it off the other morning to take a shower after my workout and never saw it again.”
Isabel was momentarily stuck on the mental image of Jeremy in the shower, with droplets of water on his chest. She’d never wanted so badly to have a bar of soap in her hands. “Did you think it just disappeared? She clearly stole it. Dragged it in here to make her bed.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “I figured I must have tossed it in the hamper and didn’t remember doing it. I have a lot on my mind these days.”
She couldn’t help but notice the weighty drag in his voice. Not putting much thought into it, she placed her hand on the center of his back to comfort him, but that caused him to look at her, his gray eyes showing mysterious flecks of blue in this light. If they were a window into his soul, she wished she could see some true happiness in there. She was desperate for a reason not to kiss him. Make him happy. She could do that, at least for a little while, with the snow falling heavily outside.
Jeremy cleared his throat and returned his sights to Cat’s nest. “I can’t believe she stole my stinky, sweaty T-shirt.”
“It means she loves you. Pets love things that smell like their owners.”
“I’m not her owner. This is temporary.” He stood up and stepped away, as if that could somehow extricate him from the situation.
“Uh-huh. Tell that to Cat.”
He turned back to her, kneading his forehead. “How do I get her to not have the kittens in here? Won’t it make a big mess?”
“First off, you don’t get her to do anything. If she’s happy and feels safe there, you should let her do her thing. You do not want to get into a battle of wills with a mama cat. Second, we can put down an old towel or two and you can toss them out once the kittens arrive.”
“What about the T-shirt?”
She patted his shoulder in consolation. “I think that’s pretty much a goner.”
“I never should have let her in that morning.”
“Oh, Jeremy, no. You had to do it. She could have died out there. Her and her kittens. You did the right thing.”
He twisted his lips, which made her think he was considering the other side of the coin she’d just shown him. “You really are good at forming an argument.”
She loved not only knowing that she could show him when he was wrong, but that he would actually listen. She found that a rare quality in a man, especially a lawyer. “Thanks. I appreciate that. Now what do I have to do to convince you to open a bottle of wine?”
“You don’t. It’s six on a Friday and there’s cause for celebration. I can’t believe it’s taken us this long to get around to it.”
“You’re speaking my language. I’m just going to grab my purse from the guest room. I can’t live this time of year without lip balm.”
Down the hall they went, making a brief stop so Isabel could fetch her bag, then descending the stairs and back to the kitchen. Isabel perched on a barstool at the kitchen island and watched Jeremy go to work. “Red or white?” he asked.
She glanced out the patio windows. The snow was still pretty and fluffy, but the wind had started to whip. “Considering the weather? Definitely red.”
“Perfect. I have a Spanish rioja that’s absolutely delicious.”
“Sounds amazing.”
Jeremy opened a tall cabinet at the far end of the kitchen, which had a waist-high wine chiller below and diagonal bottle storage above, the entire setup going from floor to ceiling.
“It’s like your own little cellar.”
“There’s a real cellar downstairs on the ground floor. I got really into wine about ten years ago. I was starting to wonder if I was going to be a bachelor forever, so I figured I might get a hobby.” He brought the bottle to the island and expertly opened it, then pulled two glasses from an upper cabinet near the fridge.
“And then you met the woman you married and the bachelor was reformed?” Isabel was indeed curious about the notion of Jeremy seeing himself as never getting married, and that apparently changing at some point.
“It had nothing to do with being reformed. I was on board from the beginning.”
“Head over heels?”
“I guess you could say that, but she also had a way of sweeping you up into her world. Or maybe sucking you into the eye of her personal hurricane is a more apt analogy.”
“She sounds lovely.”
Jeremy laughed. “It happened fast. That’s all I can tell you. I think she liked the fact that I wasn’t the typical Manhattan playboy. She’d dated a lot of guys like that.” He filled their glasses and handed her one. “Cheers. To not talking about my ex-wife.”
Isabel took a quick sip. “It’s delicious. Thank you. But not so fast.” She had questions. A lot of questions. Things weren’t entirely adding up. “Okay, confession time. I looked you up on the internet after the first meeting at your office.”
“Of course you did.”
“You did the same thing to me, did you not?”
He brought his glass around to the other side of the island, but didn’t sit with her. “Come on. If we’re going to talk about this, we’re going in the living room. I’d rather be comfortable while discussing unpleasant subjects.” He didn’t wait for her reply, but instead wandered off.
Isabel followed in earnest, worried she’d hurt him. “I don’t mean for it to be unpleasant. I’m just curious because what you’re telling me isn’t matching up with what I read.”
He set his glass and the bottle on the coffee table and began building a fire in the fireplace, crumpling up newspaper, then stacking logs across it and striking a match. She stood and watched him work. “Isabel. As a former Washington, DC, lawyer with a bunch of very high-profile clients, I have to think that you would know better than anyone that what’s in the paper isn’t always the full story. A lot of it has to do with who gets there first.”
“Well, sure. Things get twisted. But they don’t usually take a one-eighty.”
He stood and brushed his hands off on his pants, then pointed to the couch. “Please. Sit.”
She felt like she was in trouble, and just like upstairs when he’d admonished her during negotiations, she found it incredibly sexy. “Yes, sir.” She did as she was told, sinking down into the comfortable cushions. The fire began to crackle and blaze. Between the wine and Jeremy, she never wanted to leave the room.
“Actually, a one-eighty is the perfect way to spin something.” He took a long draw of his wine and Isabel admired his profile in the golden glow of the fire. “It’s a believable story since it’s true, so you simply take whatever you’re guilty of and accuse the other person of it.”
“So if I’m a woman who wants out of my marriage, but I’m worried about how that will be perceived, I tell the press that my husband isn’t the settling-down type, or that he isn’t loving.”
He turned to her, his eyes full of resignation. She’d seen this expression from him before, the look of someone who was hurt and sad, but who had learned to live with it. Isabel hated the idea that anyone would have to live that way, especially a man as extraordinary as Jeremy. “Precisely.”
Isabel took another sip of her wine, her mind still churning. No wonder the things she’d read about Jeremy had seemed so off. “I almost hate to ask this...”
A corner of his mouth shot up in a wry smile. “You don’t hate to ask anything.”
She leaned forward and grasped his forearm. “No. I really don’t want to upset you. Truly. I don’t. You’ve been
nothing but gracious in letting me stay here.”
“Go for it. I have no secrets.”
Isabel found herself hoping that was really true. Because every minute with Jeremy was starting to feel like the start of something.
* * *
I really don’t want to upset you. Even though Isabel was capable of a good sneak attack, he was sure of what she was about to ask. He’d never spoken about it to anyone. His parents spent their time making themselves the victims by claiming their own embarrassment at the way their son had been dragged through the tabloids. His friends made themselves scarce after the divorce. Nobody wanted to go out to dinner with the guy who was getting snide comments from perfect strangers who’d sided with the socialite. So Jeremy kept it all bottled up inside, another attempt at holding on to his pride.
“I shouldn’t ask,” she said. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“No. Please. Just do it. Let’s put the whole thing to rest. Honestly, it’ll be a relief.”
“Was it all a one-eighty? There was a suggestion that you’d been unfaithful.” She held up a finger. “And before you answer, I want to make it clear that I will not judge you. Everyone has their reasons for doing things.”
Jeremy had every reason in the world to keep a wall up with Isabel, both personal and professional. But the reality of their situation was that they were close to wrapping up negotiations. Their clients would come away happy. As for the personal side, she was so easy to talk to. It had been like that from the moment he’d met her. There was something almost therapeutic about baring his soul to her. “Everything she did to sabotage our marriage, or every unpleasant feeling she had, she put on me. The thing about not being made for commitment, the thing about not being the settling-down type. So yes, there was infidelity, and it was all hers.”
“I’m so sorry. That’s such a terrible betrayal.”
