Hidden Gems (13 page)

Enough was enough. He was out of patience.

Marissa responded to challenges. From now on, instead of taking it easy, he was taking charge. If he had to, he’d make her love him.

How to do that was anyone’s guess.

“WORK GO OKAY, babe?”

Marissa had returned to the kitchen after letting Jamie in through the Fort Knox barricade. “Don’t you mean, how was the encounter with Paul?”

Jamie halted in the doorway. “Did you see him?”

“He was waiting in my office when I got there.”

“Oh.” Jamie dumped a plastic bag of ginger root onto the counter. He’d picked it up on the way home, at her request. Taking charge didn’t have to preclude all domestic responsibilities.

Marissa was cooking. With her long hours, she didn’t often take the time to prepare meals during the week. But she’d told him of her fond memories of being in the kitchen with her mother and sister, singing pop songs while they chopped and mixed and fried. Apparently there was a lot of chopping and mixing and frying to be done for a family of six with many intrusive but endearing relatives.

While his own family had lacked some of that togetherness, he’d had enough of a taste that he liked to think how he and Marissa could make their own traditions. Sunday dinners in a city apartment. Just the two of them. Or maybe family time, when there were children.

Shit. He was going girly again. Turning into the kind of sentimental fool that Marissa disdained.

“Paul’s nothing to be bothered with.” She picked up a bunch of cilantro, slapped the leafy herb on the cutting board and ran the knife through it. “It was the same story as when he called from the islands. He pretended to want me back, but all he really cared about was covering his ass with the partners.”

Jamie dipped a finger into a lime puree. “Are you sure he won’t make trouble for you?”

“That’s always a possibility. But he’d be a fool to fuss when that would reflect on him, too. He has to know I wouldn’t go down without a fight.”

She sounded brave, but he could tell that she was worried. The partners were a conservative bunch and the competition for promotion was rabid. A messy office romance would be a giant black mark on their records.

Jamie touched her elbow. “It’ll be okay. You’re a killer. The partners love you.”

“Killer,” she repeated doubtfully.

He found that interesting. A week ago she’d have relished the description.

Marissa slammed the knife on a clove of garlic. “I’m not going soft!”

“Of course not.” So he wasn’t the only one?

“Sorry. Thinking out loud.” She cleared her throat. “Speaking of the partners, I have a command performance with them this week. A dinner party at Mr. Coffman’s house on Friday. Only a few of the associates were invited.”

“Will Paul be there?”

“I’m sure. But stop worrying about him. He’s inconsequential.”

“I’m not worried. It’s just that…” Jamie gave up with a shake of his head, then had to brush back his hair. His doubts remained about Paul, but he intended to take care of them his own way.

“You need a haircut.” She’d always admired the way his long dark lashes framed his bedroom eyes. “But I like you this way. Kind of shaggy and unkempt. Makes me feel better about my imperfections.”

“You have imperfections?”

“You’re asking that of a woman who serially dates Mr. Wrong and keeps two years of fashion magazines stacked in the fireplace?” She looked around for something else to chop up for the ceviche, but she was finished. “About the dinner party.”

“Yes?”

“Want to come?”

“Who, me?”

“Don’t be a dork.”

“I’d better get a haircut.”

She ruffled his already-ruffled hair. “You’re handsome the way you are.”

“Tell you what, I’ll go if you’ll come with me to a play I have to review. It’s off-off Broadway, a kooky revival of Guys and Dolls. We can go to the Saturday matinee so our evening isn’t ruined.”

“That’s a fine way for an objective critic to talk.”

He smiled sheepishly.

“It’s a deal,” she said.

Jamie ran upstairs to take Sally out. He came back in jeans and they finished making dinner.

When they were ready to eat, he uncorked the wine, she cleared the table of junk mail, proud of herself when she tipped three-fourths of it into the trash can. Her good plates came out, colorful Fiestaware, with goblets for the wine and woven reed place mats.

Jamie entered the small dining area with the wine bottle in one hand and a dish of olives in the other. When he reached to kiss her, his lips stretched open and she saw he held an olive between his teeth. She bit into it and they chewed and swallowed and kissed and laughed.

They were still at the table, lingering over the last bites of the yellow fin ceviche, when a sound at the door made Jamie leap out of his chair.

“Who is it?” he barked.

A key slid into the lock. The knob wiggled back and forth. “Hey, what’s with the door?”

“It’s Shandi.” Marissa looked down at the bread knife in her hand. She dropped it onto the cutting board. “This is ridiculous. I’m jumpier than Harry.”

Jamie let Shandi in. “Some people knock first.”

“Sure, cutie.” She barged past him, wearing a gaping sleeveless basketball jersey over a tube top and jean shorts. Her hair was standing on end, scooped off her face by a bandanna, and there was a new hole in her ear, stuck through with a dangling skeleton key that dragged down her lobe. “I came by to pick up my things.” She plucked an olive from the dish. “Hiya, Mari. You changed the locks? Should I take that personally?”

“There was a break-in.”

“That sucks.” Shandi sat. “Can I have this?” she asked, taking the platter of tuna. She shoveled a bite into her mouth with her fingers. “What is it, sushi? Did they nip my stuff?”

“Nothing was stolen.”

“Cool.”

“What happened to you?” Jamie asked. “Where’ve you been?”

“Here and there.” She shrugged. “Out and about. Uptown and down low.”

“There was a break-in, Shandi,” Marissa said, leaning forward over the table. “I was assaulted.”

Shandi stopped chewing. “You mean—”

“I came home, the thief was still here and grabbed me, but I got away.”

“Did you tell anyone the apartment had been empty?” Jamie demanded.

Shandi frowned. “I don’t think so, but…” She shrugged. “I say a lot of things to a lot of people.”

“What about Marissa’s belongings? Did you ‘borrow’ something of hers? Maybe something she brought back from vacation?”

“Nope.” Shandi ran a tongue over her teeth. “Who put you in charge? Am I under arrest or what?”

“No, of course not,” Marissa said. “It’s just that there have been some strange happenings around here lately, and we thought you might be able to help.”

“Do you know a man named Freddy Bascomb?” Jamie asked.

Shandi dropped a butter knife. “Sorry,” she muttered.

“Well?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

“As sure as I can be.” Shandi left the table, reappearing a minute later with her bags and makeup case. A battered Prada backpack hung off one arm. “Hey, you guys, this is really interesting and all that, but I’ve got to go.”

“Why so fast?” Jamie said, Mr. Sarcastic.

“Let her leave.” Marissa went to the door with Shandi. “You know you could tell me if you’re mixed up in a bad situation, right?”

Shandi looked away for a moment, then reverted to her usual self as she showily crossed her chest and raised her hand. “I swear I didn’t have anything to do with the break-in.”

Marissa gave her a quick hug. “I believe you.” But there was a remaining doubt.

Shandi clutched briefly, then pulled away. “It’s good to see you and Jamie together. Stick with him. He’s lots better for you than…the other guys.”

“Do you mean Paul?”

“Maybe.” Shandi’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m sorry I’m such a lousy friend.” She dropped Marissa’s old key into her hand, no longer bothering with the fake smile. “Watch your back.”

“What does that mean?” Marissa’s scalp prickled. “Wait. Do you have an address? A number?”

“If you want me, call my cell.” Shandi waved as she disappeared down the stairs.

Marissa shut the door. Jamie stood nearby, watching. “You were rude,” she said. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you be rude before.”

“She caught me by surprise. I didn’t mean to chase her out. I had more questions to ask her.”

“Don’t take this ‘being my protector’ thing too far, okay? I can deal with some machismo—God knows I’m used to it with my dad and brothers—but there’s a limit.”

Jamie fisted his hands; the sinew and muscle in his arms flexed and tightened. Suddenly she was taken with what a nice physique he’d developed. She knew, of course she knew, but now that they were lovers she was free to really revel in the attraction. She’d been suppressing a lot of sexual hunger.

“Sorry,” he said, “but I’m not stepping back. As long as you’re in danger, your business is my business.”

What she got was another of the distracting thrills. Not very liberated of her, especially when she usually found male bossiness very grating. She couldn’t even get prickly about taking care of herself. There was something deeply comforting about having a strong man in her corner, protecting her and encouraging her. “I’ve been perfectly safe for the past several days.”

“Because you’ve been at my place.”

She thought it was best to change the subject. “Did you hear what Shandi said about being a bad friend? And watching my back?”

Jamie nodded, suddenly wary.

“Does that make any kind of sense to you?” Marissa tensed. “I’m guessing it does.” She walked toward him, staring hard into his eyes so he wouldn’t look away. She poked a finger into his chest. “I want you to tell me without pulling any punches.”

“I don’t want to be the one—”

“Tell me.”

He blew out a breath. “All right. A couple of months ago, not long after you’d started dating Paul, I saw him in a bar on Prince Street. You know it. Macintosh’s. My kind of place, not his. It was midnight and I was there because—well, whatever. But it was late.”

“Why were you there? Were you drunk?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Tell me. I want the whole story.”

Jamie turned away, his head hunched between his shoulders. “You were going out with Paul that night, and you’d told me you two were getting serious. I thought it might be the night. You know what I mean.” He checked her reaction. “I didn’t feel like sitting at home, thinking about what you were doing with Paul, so I went to Mac’s to drown my sorrows. Okay?”

Regret welled up inside her. “I didn’t know you were feeling that way. I am so sorry.”

“Yeah.” He tilted his head back, his Adam’s apple moving in his throat. “Anyway, I guess it wasn’t the night after all, because suddenly there was Paul, stopping by for a drink after your date.”

“He didn’t see you?”

“I made sure of that. I wasn’t in the mood.”

“So what happened?”

“Shandi came in.”

“Oh. I see.”

“After a while, they, uh…”

She knew he was trying to spare her feelings by not describing the events, but she could guess what he’d left out. Shandi was a flirt. Paul was a ladies’ man. One plus one equals two rotten louses.

Jamie’s brows knitted. He had to force his voice out. “They left together.”

“You’re sure it was—?” She saw the look on his face and suddenly found herself laughing and shaking her head and gulping at air. “Of course it was. Of course.”

Reckless energy boiled up in her. She didn’t blame Jamie, not a bit. But she needed a release. When he made a motion toward her, she shoved him away. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“How could I?”

Constricted by the walls around her, she walked in an agitated little circle, waving her arms. “How could you not? I would have never continued seeing Paul.”

“Are you sure of that?” Jamie asked quietly. Always the calm center of her tornado. “Or would you have decided that I was interfering because I was jealous over you?”

“I’ve always trusted you.”

“Yes, but you know how it goes. Kill the messenger. Our friendship might have been ruined. As much as I hated it, I had to let you find out for yourself.”

“You let me get burned.”

His face was harsh with the consequences of that decision. “I tried to warn you. I even tried to get Shandi to confess, but she claimed I’d gotten it wrong. She’d turned Paul down.”

“Could that be true?”

“You decide.”

Drained, Marissa went to sit on the couch. Jamie hovered nearby. She gestured at him. “Go home. I need to be alone now so I can get my head straight.” She was a smart woman. Why had she willfully disregarded the signs that Paul wasn’t worthy of her? Simply to make it easier to get out of the relationship?