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“Nah. Just me and the boys.”
“Then why don’t you show Catherine here howda two-step. Jake’s kinda busy and I’m not much fun.”
Charlie took a step closer. With a smile wider than Texas, he extended his hand, palm up, and said, “Love to!”
“Oh, no!” Catherine shook her head and her hair flew side to side. “I couldn’t, but thanks for the offer.”
Charlie looked down at her left hand. “I see.”
She followed his gaze, stopping at the new diamondstudded band sparkling on her third finger. The anger she’d been denying for more than an hour finally broke the surface. In one quick motion she jerked off the ring and shoved it in her pants pocket. When she looked up the men were exchanging a knowing look.
“It’s…it’s not what you think,” she stammered. Neither of them looked convinced, but she wasn’t about to explain. Instead she stood and pressed her fists to her thighs. It was time to move. One way or the other, she had to expel this mounting energy raging behind her ribs. Her gaze darted to the door, then to the bustling dance floor. This place might not be the answer, but it beat standing alone on Woodward Avenue after dark.
She looked back at Charlie with his thumbs hooked in his belt loops. He eyed her warily. She’d probably regret this in the morning, but what the hell. She could add it to the list. “Is that dance lesson still open?”
Jake watched the pair laughing and twirling around on the dance floor, a sense of dеj? vu stabbing at his gut. They’d been at it now for over an hour. What was she trying to do? Rub it in his face? Tease and flaunt until he jumped over the bar, picked her up and carried her off kicking and screaming? He dried the same glass for the third time, then slammed it down on the counter.
Damn! What was the matter with him? He had no claim on this woman. Besides, she barely knew he was alive. She was simply here to forget her troubles like everyone else in the place. Under the circumstances how could he blame her?
The band took a break and Jake watched Catherine lead Charlie back to Sarge, who seemed to be having a vicarious good time. More than once since Catherine arrived, Jake thought about telling the old guy what happened to her tonight, but discretion won out.
He checked his watch: one-thirty. Time for last call. By the sway in Catherine’s walk he hoped she didn’t ask for another. Between dances she’d been slamming back Baileys as if they were milk shakes.
Jake walked over to Tom at the service bar. “Mind closing up alone?”
“No problem, Jake. Thanks for sticking around. When Tim called in sick I thought I’d be stuck here alone all night. I owe ya one, guy.”
“I’ll remember that.” Jake smiled, patting Tom on the shoulder before heading back to the trio at the other end. Charlie was hanging over Catherine, practically drooling, and Sarge was laughing heartily at something she’d said.
Trying to appear uninterested, Jake strolled out from behind the bar. He stopped behind Charlie and spoke softly near his ear. “Too bad you have to leave now, my friend.”
Charlie looked over his shoulder ready to protest when he met Jake’s direct stare. Jake glanced in Catherine’s direction, then quickly back to Charlie. Charlie got the message. Loud and clear.
“See ya around, Sarge, Catherine,” Charlie said, his disappointment showing.
Catherine turned abruptly and looked up. For a moment Jake thought she might fall off the stool. “You can’t go, Charlie. Who am I going to dance with?”
Jake stepped between them and took her hand as the band began its last short set. “Guess you’ll have to settle for me.” He gave her a not-too-gentle tug and she stumbled behind him onto the dance floor. When he spun around to face her he pulled her close and she landed hard against the length of him, but not without a giggle.
She snuggled her head against his shoulder and made a mewing noise into his chest. Her arm was draped loosely around his neck. It felt as though she might fall asleep any second. He tightened his grip, knowing he should take her home, but enjoying the feel of her far too much to leave.
It was hot under the dance floor lights, just as it had been hot in the church earlier, but a chill passed through him when he pictured her then…and now in his arms. What was it about this woman that made him feel so protective? He’d seen enough to know she could take care of herself. Still…
The slow dance ended and as much as he wanted another he stepped back. He caught her hand in his when it slid off his shoulder. Her eyes were closed and she was listing to port. Gently he turned her toward Sarge, slipping his arm around her shoulder and guiding her back to her stool. When they arrived, Catherine made no effort to move. With his arm still around her Jake shuffled his feet in front of Sarge, feeling like an adolescent on his first date. He cleared his throat.
“I’m going to take this young lady home. Need a ride?”
“Nope. Charlie’s bringing his car around. Said he’d give me a lift.” He waved Jake off with the back of his hand and a sly wink. Jake picked up Catherine’s white purse and turned her toward the door. Halfway there Catherine stopped.
“Carryon…I brought a carryon….”
Jake looked over his shoulder and saw the burgundy bag under the stool. “Stay right here. I’ll get it.” Jake propped her against a wall and walked back.
Charlie had returned and was unlocking Sarge’s wheelchair. He stopped and poked Jake in the side with an elbow. In a stage whisper, he said, “I do all the work. You get all the fun.”
Another time, another woman, Jake might have let Charlie think what he wanted. “It’s not how it looks, buddy. Someday I’ll fill you in.” With that, he returned to Catherine and slowly eased her outside and into his Jeep.
About a mile up the road she finally spoke. “Didn’t we do this part already?”
He glanced at her quickly. Her eyes were closed, head tilted back, hair blowing helter-skelter.
Before he could comment, she said, “I like your Jeep.” From the corner of his eye he could see her turn toward him. “And I like you too, Jake. You’re a nice guy…you know that?”
He wanted to believe she meant it and would remember her words tomorrow, but he knew it was the booze talking now.
“Where we going?” she asked, not sounding as if she really cared.
“Toot’s Diner. I need some chow and you need some coffee.”
Another mile and he pulled into the restaurant parking lot, hopped out and ran to the other side before his passenger could fall on her face trying to maneuver on her own. She accepted his hand with a teasing smile and fell against him.
“Oops!” She giggled and righted herself.
When they slid into the booth nearest the door a minute later, Jake saw a waitress eyeing him. She came over with a pair of menus and shot him a judgmental look. Why is it all women assume the guy is some lech ready to pounce on some poor, helpless female? This female was hardly helpless. And by the looks of everything, not poor, either. He shoved the menus aside and ignored them along with the waitress’s scowl.
“We’ll have a couple orders of eggs, ham and toast. Make mine overeasy with rye.” He looked at Catherine. Her eyes were at half-mast; she seemed dazed. “How do you want yours?”
“Scrambled. Whole wheat,” she said in a monotone.
The waitress started to leave. Jake called after her. “And lots of coffee, please…soon.” She looked back, her lips a hard, straight line. Jake winked and flashed a toothy smile.
Catherine didn’t say a word. She slumped deeper in the booth, the back of her head pressed against the cushion, a cheek resting on her shoulder. Jake watched her doze, wondering if he should wake her and force some coffee down, or let her sleep. When the aroma of hot food and the noise of sliding plates didn’t budge her, he decided he had to say something.
“Wake up, sleeping beauty. Chow time.” He drank his coffee and watched her come around. She looked ghastly. Her complexion matched the pale green upholstery. He’d seen the signs often enough to know what was coming. Sure enough, she struggled to an upright position and moaned aloud, clasping her head with both hands. She took one whiff of the food, then slid quickly from the booth.
Jake pointed. “Down that hall, on the right.” He watched her snake a path to the ladies’ room and debated whether he should follow. Nah. There were some things a person preferred doing in private.
Ten minutes later Jake was just about to send the waitress in after her when Catherine emerged. Her mascara was smudged, her face wet and pale, but she walked straighter than when she’d left. It’d been years since he’d pulled such a stunt, but he remembered the feeling all too well.
She avoided his eyes when she slid back into the booth and reached for her water. She took a sip, then looked at him sheepishly. “Do I look as bad as I feel?”
“Not quite.” Jake dipped the corner of a napkin into his water glass. He leaned across and started wiping away the black from beneath her lashes. She inched forward, staring back at him with such a soulful look that he wanted to slide in beside her, crush her against him and never let her go. Now he wished he’d gone back and taught Studly a lesson he’d never forget. How could any man throw away a woman like this?
When he tossed the napkin aside, Catherine grasped his hand with both of hers. For the first time he saw a hint of moisture pooling above her lower lashes. He watched, certain tears would spill any second, but they didn’t.
She raised her chin and blinked them back, then spoke in a barely audible whisper. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She picked up a piece of toast and started nibbling at it, testing the waters. When that worked she had some coffee and a little more toast, then more coffee. Eventually she looked at him and caught his smile. “What?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said.
“Come on. What were you thinking?” She smiled a weary smile, leaning heavily on her left elbow.
“I was thinking ‘She’s probably still drunk, but at least she’s a wide-awake drunk.’”
“Very funny.”
“You asked.”
“So…where do we go now?”
He liked the sound of the word we. “I was just going to ask you that question.”
She fell silent a moment, looking as if she hadn’t the foggiest notion. “I don’t want to go home, that’s for sure.” She pushed her plate aside, eggs untouched, and nursed her coffee. The waitress dropped the check on the table and scurried off. Catherine reached it first. Jake tugged at it but she wouldn’t let go.
“No. I insist,” she said, challenging him with an unexpected show of energy. She pulled it to her chest, then began rooting around inside her purse. A bulging envelope blocked her path. Annoyed, she slapped it on the table and continued foraging until she found some bills. She was about to return the envelope to her purse when she stopped, a look of inspiration spreading across her face. Then she tossed the opened envelope in front of Jake, encouraging him to read the contents with a wave of her hand.
“That’s where we’re going!” Seeming pleased with herself, she slid from the booth and headed for the cashier. Jake read enough to satisfy his curiosity, then scrambled to catch up with her. She’d already paid the tab and was on the way out the door. Without breaking stride she called over her shoulder, “What time is it?”
“Almost three-thirty.”
“We have to be at the airport at five-thirty.” She stopped alongside the Jeep and spun around, loosing her balance momentarily. Looking panicky, she studied his features. “Hair’s a little lighter and longer, but it’ll work.” She breathed a sigh of relief and jumped into the passenger seat.
Caught up in her enthusiasm Jake hustled to the other side and slid in.
“Do you live close by?” she asked breathlessly.
“Yes, but…”
She turned and faced him squarely, folding her arms in a mix of impatience and determination. “Look, Jake,” she started, looking angry. “It’s too late to change the name on everything. TJ’s birth certificate and photo ID are in the envelope. All you have to do is memorize his birth date and address. How difficult can that be?”
Nonplussed, Jake stared at her.
She relaxed her hands in her lap and smiled at him imploringly. “Well? Do you want to go to Jamaica with me or not?”
Jake turned the key in the ignition.
Three (#ulink_5c0b212c-1b1f-5b87-a1a6-5d8e3a6172a7)
“Mommm…” Catherine rolled her eyes at Jake, who was leaning against the wall next to the airport pay phone, grinning. “Please stop crying. I’m okay. Really.” She looked down at her feet, feeling guilty for her mother’s pain.
“I know how humiliating it must have been for you and Daddy, but…” She wanted to say It was no picnic for me, either, but she let her mother prattle on, not wanting to say anything that would prolong the conversation. After listening to a long litany of who said what to whom following her hasty departure, she finally interrupted. “I need to speak with Daddy…yes, Mom. I love you, too.”
Catherine extracted the wadded paper from her purse and began smoothing out the wrinkles until she heard her father’s worried voice. She tolerated a few more platitudes, then heaved a sigh and asked her question. “I know this is a terrible imposition, but could you call your lawyer and ask him something for me?” Quickly she explained the unsigned marriage license in her hand and agreed to call him back in a couple of days for the answer.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
He began again in what sounded like a long lecture and Catherine shot Jake another exasperated look.
“Sorry, Daddy, they’re boarding my plane…have to run. We’ll have a nice long talk when I get back.” A moment later she hung up the phone and exhaled a loud sigh.
Jake hadn’t moved. His arms were folded and he had that same silly grin plastered on his face.
“Now what’s so funny?”
He pushed off the wall. “Nothing at all. This kind of thing happens to me all the time. How ‘bout you?”
Catherine couldn’t help but smile. “I guess this is a little bizarre,” she said, picking up her carryon and walking toward the gate. “I wonder how many brides have gone on their honeymoon with someone besides the groom?”
Jake walked close behind her and whispered discreetly over her shoulder. “Probably the same number as men who went with brides that weren’t their own.”
Catherine swallowed a chuckle, suddenly feeling wicked and, much to her surprise, a little excited. Maybe this wasn’t such a crazy idea after all, she mused. Besides, there was a good chance she wasn’t anybody’s “bride,” that she was actually a free woman. As long as Jake remembered this was a platonic vacation, maybe Jamaica could be more than a convenient escape. Maybe it could actually be fun.
An hour and a half after takeoff Catherine picked at her second breakfast of the morning, still feeling queasy, when the practical side of her took over. Using the most businesslike tone she could muster, she began laying out the ground rules to her traveling companion. They’d come and go as they pleased without checking with each other, taking meals together as the mood moved them, but with no obligations. Strictly a business arrangement. No hanky-panky.
“There’s a master bedroom and a parlor with a hide-abed.” She nibbled at her dry toast and thought about offering Jake the bed, but reconsidered. After all, she’d paid for this whole trip, thanks to her offer to pay for everything by credit card and get reimbursed from TJ later. The least she could do for herself now was take the bed. Besides, as nice as Jake had been so far, he was still a man, and men were on her lower-than-slime list today.
When she fell silent Jake took the lead. “I’ll use the hide-a-bed. You can have the bed.” He’d polished off his eggs and sausage with ease. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and returned the no-nonsense look she’d been giving him for the last ten minutes. “I have no problem with your conditions, but I have one of my own.”
She waited, curious what it might be.
“I insist on paying half of all expenses.”
She opened her mouth to protest but thought better of it. Even a bartender had his pride. It wasn’t her problem how he’d come up with the money. She held out her hand. “It’s a deal.”
Jake clasped it and shook it firmly just as the flight attendant retrieved their trays. He released his grip in time to salvage his coffee. “I’d like more when you get a chance.” He smiled up at the pretty redhead whose eyes betrayed a more than passing interest. The woman lingered in the aisle making small talk.
Catherine felt a twinge of something resembling jealousy. Quickly she shook herself and found a paperback in her bag. Before she finished the first paragraph of her new Janet Dailey novel, the flight attendant was back refilling Jake’s cup.
After she left, Catherine watched Jake from the corner of her eye. He slurped from his steaming cup, then reached for the Wall Street Journal tucked in the seat pocket in front of him. Catherine bit her top lip to keep from laughing. Who was he kidding? She’d bet her grandmother’s pearls that he didn’t know the difference between junk bonds and junk mail. This trip was going to be fun.
Three hours into the flight, when they ran into turbulence, Catherine’s stomach lurched and any idea of fun vanished.
God! How she’d be glad when this ride was over. Motion sickness had never been a problem before. But then she’d never had so much alcohol before, either. Another thing she could thank TJ for—if she ever spoke to him again.
TJ. She’d refused to dwell on him since leaving the reception, but now her mind drifted in that direction, the book on her lap long forgotten. She leaned back in the seat and felt the cool air on her face, not ready to deal with the past, but unable to put it out of her head.
They’d grown up together, their families having been close since before they were born. It was natural for everyone to push them together. They were both intelligent, educated, ambitious and—probably too important to both families—well-heeled. Money would never have been an issue between them. They each brought their share to the table.
TJ’s philandering was no secret to her. In high school and college she was the one he had told his secrets to, sparing no details of his outrageous behavior. But when their friendship had turned to romance, she thought all that had changed, that he would never cheat on her. Especially on their wedding night!
So, she asked herself, how did she really feel about all this? The first word that came to mind was stupid. TJ had made a fool of her, embarrassed her in such grand fashion that she wondered how she could ever face all those people who witnessed her humiliation. Of course, she reminded herself, they never would’ve known what he’d done if she hadn’t stood there in front of God and everyone and told them. But she had to. She wanted everyone to know it was TJ’s fault the marriage had ended before it began. She wanted him to pay the price for his inexcusable behavior. A slow smile spread across her lips. If only she could have seen what happened when he returned to the banquet room. There probably wasn’t a soul there who had a kind word for him. Even his experience as a smooth-talking lawyer couldn’t have bailed him out of that mess.
A half hour later Catherine was still picturing TJ and Mary Beth trying to cover their tracks, letting her imagination run wild, when she felt the plane touch down in Montego Bay. She looked to her right and saw Jake dozing, his seat upright and belt fastened. And for the first time she wondered what kind of man would drop everything and fly off this way. As if looking for a clue she studied his relaxed face. It was handsome in a rugged kind of way—tanned, with white squint lines at the corners of his eyes. His nose was a little large, but it seemed to fit his long, angular face. His sandy hair was a little long, too, brushing the collar of his blue chambray shirt. She let her gaze drift south to his jeans. Flat stomach, nice…
“See anything you like?”
