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He nodded.
“No! I. No! Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But, I like men.” She got all flustered then, and kept talking, which she tended to do when flustered. Fill the silence and try to move on. “Granted, not a lot of men. But I do…like…men. I mean, I have to admit I like them more in theory than reality, but. Well. Oh, my God!”
She buried her head in her hands and gave up.
Too much information, Jane.
Way too much information.
“Well, I’m happy to hear that,” Wyatt responded. “That you like men. And that you find at least a few of us…acceptable and interesting.”
The flowers, looking lush, exotic and expensive, came into her field of view, even with her head hanging low so she didn’t have to look at him.
“These are for you,” he continued, still sounding amused. “A small token of apology, nothing else. No reason for you to worry.”
“But I hit you,” she said, taking the flowers and feeling completely inadequate at the moment as a girl. This whole girl-stuff thing had just never come naturally to her. Or maybe she just hadn’t tried hard enough or cared enough. But she’d always felt a little awkward in this area.
Even more than usual with Wyatt.
“I know, but I embarrassed you yesterday in my apartment, and it certainly wasn’t my intention.”
“No. It was me. I was. I’m so sorry—”
“Jane,” he interrupted. “Take the flowers and say thank you. Then forget about the whole thing. It’s as easy as that.”
Easy for him, maybe.
“Jane?” He touched his fingers gently to her chin and urged her to raise her head and look him in the eye.
His poor, bruised eye. It was a faded black shade. She’d really hit a man.
“I’m telling everyone a hulking two-hundred-fifty-pound man did this to me, and that I got it defending a lady’s honor. My female clients are impressed and the men are intimidated.”
She was sure the women were impressed.
“Take the flowers and say ‘thank you,’” he reminded her.
She took them and mumbled, “Thank you.”
He sat there looking as relaxed and gorgeous as could be, despite the black eye. “Now, what are we going to do about Leo and your sweet grandmother and great aunt?”
Two days later, Jane was in the middle of a youth-regenerating apricot-mint facial and pedicure—thinking it would give her some alone time with Gladdy to explain what a rat Leo really was—when she got the call.
Ms. Steele, the Remington Park administrator, insisted on seeing her immediately.
That had never happened before.
Jane promised to be there within the hour because Gladdy insisted that no meeting was worth cutting short a facial and pedicure.
As she sat in the waiting area outside Ms. Steele’s office, Jane had a sinking feeling she knew what this was about. That Ms. Steele had heard about Jane attempting to slug Leo Gray on the grounds of Remington Park.
How humiliating!
She remembered it seemed like tons of eyes were staring at her when that freakish red haze cleared—when she stopped trying to kick Wyatt in the shins and pull out his hair, thinking she was under attack and all her self-defense training she’d never had to use before was kicking in. So it wasn’t that surprising Ms. Steele would have heard about it. From what Jane had seen in the time Gram and Gladdy had been here, Ms. Steele kept a very close eye on the goingson at Remington Park. As a business owner, Jane could only applaud that kind of devotion and attention to detail.
But at the moment, she was horribly embarrassed.
She sat there getting more and more nervous, wondering how in the world she might explain herself, when Wyatt, blackened eye and all, strolled in.
Her face fell. “You’ve been summoned, too?”
He nodded, taking the seat beside her, looking much more at ease here than she did.
“I feel like I’ve been called into the principal’s office,” Jane fretted.
He laughed. “I’m going out on a limb here, but I bet you were a very good girl growing up, Jane. I bet you’ve never been called to the principal’s office before.”
“Only for good things. Like accepting awards and organizing school fund-raisers,” she admitted, sighing heavily. “How in the world am I going to explain getting into a fight on the grounds of my grandmother and aunt’s retirement park?”
“Denial is always a good start,” he began.
“Denial? You’re sitting here with a black eye.”
“And if denial is out of the question, I recommend, as a next step, downplaying the importance and scope of the situation.”
“You sound like a defense attorney now. Either that or someone who’s used to being in trouble.”
He shook his head. “Never been a defense attorney, but I did play one in moot court competition in law school. Won my cases every time.”
Jane wasn’t surprised about the wins and noted he hadn’t denied being in trouble himself. She shook her head and said, “I got Gladdy alone today at a salon. It was like talking to a Barbie doll. She ignored everything I said about your uncle and kept suggesting new skin care routines for me.”
“Wait…salon?” He leaned in close, his nose practically touching the rim of her ear, sniffing her hair, then the side of her face. “Is that why you smell so good? Good enough to eat?”
She closed her eyes, feeling all tingly and warm at the same time.
Because a man was sniffing her youth-regenerating apricot-mint facial?
She felt him breathing in that smell, the heat from his body so close, radiating toward hers. The tip of his nose gently brushed her cheek. Was it an accident?
“What is it? Peaches?”
“Apricots,” she admitted, not daring to move an inch.
She didn’t think she’d ever had actual sexual intercourse that felt this good. Her breasts ached and she thought she wanted to shove them into his face right now. She could spread apricot-mint facial cream over her whole body and then practice her coming-on-to-him skills and see how he liked it.
Jane was even regretting wearing her customary white, no-frills, all-buttoned-up blouse, because honestly, how much good could a woman do trying to stick her breasts in a man’s face when she was buttoned up practically to her chin? She was even considering undoing a few buttons, as unobtrusively as possible, when she heard a door open.
There was dead silence for a moment.
A throat was cleared quite pointedly.
When Jane glanced up, Ms. Steele, looking particularly steelish at the moment, was gaping at them both.
Face flaming, Jane turned to Wyatt. Sitting up straight in his chair now, he threw up his hands in a helpless manner and mouthed, “Sorry,” before standing, extending a hand to Jane, then leading her into Ms. Steele’s office.
They sat side by side in front of Ms. Steele’s desk. Jane looked determinedly down at the floor so she couldn’t see Wyatt, but she felt him, absolutely certain he was doing that easy yet elegant sprawl of his, perfectly comfortable in that chair, ready to brazen this out with the body language that said, Problem? There is no problem here.
The man had nerve, and it seemed he was impossible to embarrass.
What in the world must Ms. Steele think of them?
“I am so sorry for that…that…“ What to call it? Jane couldn’t think of a thing and sat there mute, feeling stupid all over again.
Wyatt shot her a hard look that said something like. Denial and downplaying, remember? You’re not helping, Jane.
Jane dared to look up at Ms. Steele, who appeared to be having a hard time believing what she’d just seen in her waiting room.
“I.” the woman began. “I wasn’t aware that the two of you knew each other.”
“Oh, we don’t,” Jane claimed, then realized how ridiculous that sounded, given the fact that they were just in the waiting room, Wyatt practically nuzzling her cheek. Would what he did really be considered nuzzling? Or had he just been smelling her fruity facial? “My grandmother, my aunt and Wyatt’s uncle introduced us. They know each other. That’s all.”
“Oh, I’m aware that they know each other,” she said, emphasis on the word know.
Jane felt like sinking down in her chair and trying to hide.
Wyatt, still brazening it out, asked, “Is there something we can do for you, Ms. Steele?”
The woman’s lips got all funny and stiff, as if she sternly disapproved of Wyatt, maybe of both of them. Jane couldn’t be sure.
“You could tell me,” Ms. Steele said, “why I have very odd and difficult-to-believe, yet remarkably consistent reports, that you, Jane, attacked this man’s uncle on the walkway outside the blue cottage shortly before noon yesterday.”
Before she could say anything, Wyatt chuckled and said, “Oh, no. Nothing like that. She…uh…tripped. Jane wasn’t looking where she was going. You know Jane, always on the move, always rushing about to get everything she has to get done…done. And she wasn’t watching where she was going, and she tripped.”
Now that was so brazen Jane couldn’t help but admire his skill a bit. She supposed all lawyers lied. There were probably courses at law school on how to do it effectively. Wyatt Gray, no doubt, had excelled in those.
“I do know Jane,” Ms. Steele said. “But I thought you two didn’t know each other.”
“Oh, just…you know…we were introduced one time by our relatives,” Wyatt claimed. “And in fact, we all shared a very nice dinner at the blue cottage the other night. I have to say, the young woman working there, Amy I believe it was, makes outstanding lasagna. Doesn’t she, Jane?”
Jane nodded. She’d be happy to talk about Amy and lasagna.
“So, Jane tripped, but she didn’t get anywhere near my uncle, because I caught her,” Wyatt said, not technically a lie. He had caught her. He pointed to his black eye and said, “That’s how I got this.”
Then he smiled that I-can-charm-any-woman-alive smile Jane had come to know so well. Except, sadly, Ms. Steele looked completely immune to it.
How could that be? Jane puzzled. She would have guessed no woman was truly immune to Wyatt at his gorgeous, most-charming self.
Ms. Steele cocked her head to the right and frowned at Wyatt. “So your story is…Jane tripped and you caught her?”
Wyatt nodded.
“You’re nearly a foot taller than she is. How did you get hit in the eye?”
“I don’t really know,” Wyatt said. “It all happened so fast.”
Ms. Steele rolled her eyes and gave a little huff, then turned to Jane. “I called you in here because I can’t just ignore reports of fighting on the grounds of Remington Park. But I was sure it was Leo Gray who was responsible for this whole mess. I would never believe Jane attacked an old man for no reason.”
“Oh, but.” I did.
Jane barely managed to stop herself as Wyatt clamped a hand down on hers. She took a breath, trying to think up some brazen lies of her own she might tell, but honestly, when was hitting an old man ever justified?
“It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t do anything to me. And I’ve never hit an old man in my life. I’ve never hit anyone…”
Except Wyatt.
He gave her a nod that said, Well done, Jane.
“I have no trouble believing the last part,” Ms. Steele agreed, yet still seemed troubled.
“I am so sorry about this whole mix-up.” Jane tried sounding her most earnest. “I strive to never cause trouble for anyone, and I’m sure Wyatt does, too. I’ve apologized profusely for giving him a black eye—”
“And I, of course, have forgiven her completely,” he jumped in. “Knowing that it was most definitely unintentional on her part. So there’s really no problem here.”
With that, he got to his feet and urged Jane to do the same, as if his pronouncement that there was no problem was all that was needed to clear up this whole thing.
Jane smiled hopefully in Ms. Steele’s direction, then did as Wyatt wanted and walked out the door ahead of him.
As he followed her, she could hear Ms. Steele call out to him, “We’re not done with this, Mr. Gray.”
Chapter Six
Wyatt thought they both deserved a drink after that little scene in Ms. Steele’s office, and Jane, looking like she was still figuring out how her no-doubt neat, orderly life had come to this, let him steer her quite easily to the dark, quiet bar across the street. He set a drink in front of her before she ever uttered the first word of protest, and then she just sat there, looking bewildered, embarrassed and a little sad.
He really didn’t want to make Jane sad.
“Why was Ms. Steele so sure this was all your uncle’s fault?” she finally asked.
Wyatt frowned, wondering if he could bring himself to do the old denial-and-downplay routine with her.
No, he couldn’t.
“Leo tends to…shake things up wherever he goes,” he began, then had to admit that was definitely downplaying. “Actually, Jane, he chases after women like a man who’s been celibate for years—which I’m sure he’d tell you feels like a reasonable equivalent of being married and faithful to one woman for the previous eleven years. And now that aunt Millicent is gone, he seems to feel the need to make up for lost time. He doesn’t just go after one woman at a time. This thing with your grandmother and your aunt—I’m afraid it’s not unusual at all for him. This is the norm.”
She shook her head, disbelieving. “He’s eighty-six!”
“I know. I keep hoping he’ll get too tired for all of this, but so far…he hasn’t even slowed down. He’s been kicked out of three retirement homes, bringing complete chaos to the places. Women who’ve lived together happily for years suddenly turn on each other, when he favors one over the other, no matter how brief his attention span.”
“He can’t live by himself?” she suggested.
