Naked Hope (24 page)

A shadow crossed his face. “Nothing. Not important. That disagreement doesn’t have anything to do with us.”

“No?
That disagreement
looked like a lot more than nothing.”

His jaw ticked. “She’d been pestering me to do a guest appearance for a local TV talk show. Since she wouldn’t accept ‘no’ for an answer, I’d told her I’d consider it. Then I left her a message declining the spot.”

Really?
“Adrienne drove all the way up to the cabin because she was angry about you declining a talk show spot?”

“She claims she didn’t get my message. I’d turned off my phone to be with you. She left a dozen messages but I never checked my voice mail. The appearance was for Sunday morning, and that’s why she showed up Saturday afternoon.” Gavin’s eyes widened as he spread his arms. “What can I say? She does this, Jillian. She’s tenacious—even relentless. Qualities that make her a good agent.”

Jill’s mouth tightened. “
Mucilaginous
comes to mind.”

He chuckled. “She
is
a little like glue.”

“All right, I’m ready to change the subject.” Jill crossed her legs. “Moving on, did you mean your statement to the press that you believe one day you and Olivia will complete the concerto?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Of course. I’ll never give up hope Olivia will find her music again.”

Jill swept her long hair away from the side of her face and folded her hands to quiet them. “You know what I mean, Gavin. Last night, you made her music sound imminent. As if the two of you might begin to work any day now.”

His gaze slid away from hers. “Who can say?”

There it was again. One of his signature nonverbal cues that could only indicate the man would do whatever he wanted. Jill’s stomach tightened. She leaned forward and placed a hand over his arm. “Look at me, Gavin. Four times yesterday, I heard that while you were in New York, you hired a music tutor for Olivia.”

Gavin’s eyes grew dark and shuttered closed.

“The first time the information came from Olivia.” Jill heard the tightness in her voice. She tried to relax her throat muscles. “The second time, from Adrienne, the third time from that detestable reporter, and the fourth occurred at the press conference. In and of themselves, none of those sources is very dependable.” Jill swallowed and smoothed out the roughness in her voice. “But four times is beyond random. There is no known universe in which four times in as many hours can be construed as coincidental. Have you hired a music tutor for Olivia?”

He scowled. “You said yourself how well Liv is doing in your program.”

Jill leaned as far forward as the table would allow and pressed her hands against the table’s surface. “Her preliminary progress is promising, yes…but not in the area of music.”

“You say that, yet before she started the program, you claimed she couldn’t handle it.”

“That’s right—because she felt so much pressure from you. But you made the commitment the program requires, therefore removing what I considered to be the primary obstacle.”

“So, you were wrong.” He flicked his wrist.

With narrowed gaze, she eyed the wrist flick and forced herself to be calm. “I wasn’t wrong about Olivia’s needs. I misjudged whether you would be willing to do what she needed.”

“But you
were
wrong,” he drilled. “And Liv’s doing great.”

Jill gripped the booth cushion, willing her stomach to stop knotting. “Stop side-stepping the issue. I’m asking for a straight answer. Were you looking for a music tutor for Olivia while you were in New York?”

Forearms braced on the table, he stared.

For several moments, she thought he might refuse to answer.

“Yes,” he said, grinding his words. “Among other things, yes I was.”

Be cool, girl. Jumping to conclusions right now would be disastrous
. In a low tone, she inquired, “Did you find one?”

“Yes.”

“So, to be clear, you have hired a music tutor for Olivia.” She held her breath.
Surely, he wouldn’t risk everything?

“No.” His jaw ticked.

Jill eased out her breath. “But you’re thinking about it.”

He captured both her hands. “Jillian, I’m
always
thinking about Olivia’s career. I never
stopped
thinking a tutor might help her. I’m consumed with thinking about it.”

Chapter Eighteen

“No way. So, what did you do then?” Gage prodded.

Jill stroked Sydney’s back. “He thought the commitment was only for the ten week probationary period. When I told him the commitment applied in perpetuity, he couldn’t promise me that he wouldn’t encourage Olivia to pursue her music. So, I said I needed some space to think about things.”

Gage’s jaw dropped. “You’re cutting that gorgeous guy loose?” She shook her head. “Not again. Not with this guy. Thinking isn’t going to solve what’s going on between the two of you.”

Jill shrugged. “Thinking is exactly what I need to do. Gage, I have an ethical responsibility to Olivia and to all my students. If Gavin adds the additional pressure of music, Olivia could end up worse off than before we began her protocol.”

Gage chewed the inside of her cheek. “Look, Jilly, are you maybe exaggerating just a little?”

Frustrated, Jill stared hard at her friend. “Do you really not get this? He’s talking about breaking her protocol.” She shook her head. “I tried to tell Ross what a risk bringing Olivia into the program would…”

“Risk? Really?”

Jill straightened and her chin shot into the air. “As a medical professional, I’d expect you to have a better grasp on this. If Gavin hires a music teacher for Olivia, or encourages her to pursue music in any way, he’s crossing the line.”

“Whose line?”

Fighting growing uneasiness, Jill hugged herself. “Why are you doing this? What if we were talking about someone blatantly ignoring protocol you’ve set for one of your programs?”

Gage looked wholly unconvinced and more than a little amused.

Jill willed herself to calm down. “Here’s the problem. Watching Gavin encourage Olivia to pursue music is the equivalent of watching a doctor give the wrong medication to a cancer patient—and then just standing by allowing such a thing to happen. I couldn’t defend my actions to a review board if I reported I knew Olivia’s father had broken my protocol and placed her in a situation she was neither emotionally or physically capable of managing—and allowed her to remain in the program, anyway.”

Gage beckoned to her friend. “Come with me.”

Dragging her feet, Jill followed her into the kitchen and slid into a stool at the counter.

Gage extracted a bottle of high-priced vodka from Jill’s freezer and poured them each two fingers into short glasses. She set one on the counter in front of Jill. “As your friend, I do my best to keep the ‘closed for business’ sign on my door. But the psychologist in me insisted on poking out her head and told me we needed a change of venue because your living room is crammed full of Gavin Fairfield’s bigger-than-life presence.” She pointed to Gavin’s photo, the sport coat he’d left behind folded neatly over the arm of an easy chair. “Here in the kitchen, with its hard surfaces and bright lights, you might think a little more clearly.”

Jill eyed the clear liquid. “Vodka improves eyesight?”

Gage chuckled. “Glad to see you still have your sense of humor. Bottom’s up.” After they drank, Gage poured a second round. “My expertise is in forensics, so I wouldn’t dream of questioning your judgment about this. But I know a thing or two about you, my friend. Something about this situation has pushed all your buttons.”

Jill shrugged. “I wanted to believe Gavin could be different.”

“From what you’ve told me, he sounds like he’s plenty different.”

Jill’s eyes widened. “I don’t get you. When I first told you about him, you said he was slippery. What flipped you?”

“You did. On more than one occasion, you’ve described him as gentle, attentive, even playful.”

Jill shook her head. “He’s stubborn.”

Gage countered, “You specifically said he’s loving and generous.”

“Bullish and domineering.” Jill gripped the edge of the counter.

Gage shot back, “Playful, charming, handsome.”

“Egotistical, secretive, uncommunicative.”

Gage wiggled her eyebrows. “Out-of-this-world sexy.”

Jill frowned.
True
. “Moody.”

“Sophisticated.” Gage poked her nose up in the air.

Jill sighed. “Damn know-it-all.”

“Devilish.”

“Stubborn.”

“Score.” Gage crowed, her eyes crinkling in the corners. “That’s a repeat. You lose.” She poured Jill another two fingers. “You do realize you’re falling into your typical pattern.”

Jill raised an eyebrow. “Which is?”

“You connect with a guy and then toss him before things get too serious.”

Jill ducked her head, keenly aware of how well Gage knew her and muttered, “I do not.”

“You do, and you know you do. But Jilly, do you really want to throw Gavin Fairfield back into the pond?”

A bit slow from the vodka, Jill didn’t answer.

“You never told me what happened, but I know some guy broke your heart.”

“The past is dead and buried. History.” She shook her head, and the room blurred. “No discussion necessary”

“Dead? Buried? Now you’ve really got my attention because dead and buried is
my
field.” With a wink, she grinned. “What’ve you got to lose?”

Jill’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “He was a philanderer. He even looked like one. I’ve never understood how I got so taken in…” She closed her eyes, remembering.

Seven years earlier…

One of the hottest summers on record, Jill kept peeling off layers until she wore only a tank top and her favorite blue jeans. She’d spent the morning lugging planks of wood, swinging a hammer and digging holes in the ground—activities she hadn’t done since leaving the farm. The center’s playground no longer met the health and safety requirements, so Jill rounded up a group of volunteers who raised enough cash and scavenged enough spare parts to turn the playground around. This was their third weekend working on the project, and things were taking shape.

Jill straightened to stretch her back, and found herself staring into a pair of brown eyes and a killer smile.

“They told you I was coming, right?”

Hands on her hips, she replied, “That depends. Who is
they
and who are
you
?”

“Name’s Tommy Reynolds.” His grin widened. “You must be Jill. My office told me you’re the one to talk to.” He paused, giving her an appreciative once over, then whistled low. “Must be my lucky day.”

“Are you here to help? To volunteer, I mean because if you are, there’s still plenty to do.” She swung her arms in a wide circle.

His gaze rode over her body. “Oh, I’m here to help all right. I’m doing a shoot about your crisis center. Okay if I set up over there? Don’t worry about the legal stuff—releases and that sort of thing. My office is handling all that. Say, you wouldn’t be free for dinner tonight, would you?” He unleashed another smile.

Tommy set up his tripods, muscles rippling through his T-shirt. “Hold it,” he called and snapped her photo.

She ran a hand through her hair, knowing she must look a mess.

“You didn’t answer me yet.” He snapped again and set down the camera

Some of the volunteers stopped what they were doing to watch.

“You free for dinner tonight?”

****

“Hello? You going to answer me?” Gage prodded.

Jill blinked and looked at her friend. “I spent nine months with a man I never really knew who kept me off balance the entire time. I thought we met because of fate but the meeting was just an unfortunate accident. He’d blow into town on some assignment, usually without warning. We’d have two days, or maybe even three weeks of…” Jill hugged herself and shuddered, her chest tightening. “I still don’t know what to call what we had, and then he’d be gone. I never knew where he was off to, or if I did, the location was somewhere so remote, he couldn’t be reached. He’d say, ‘This is my lifestyle, babe, comes with the territory’ and I believed him.”

She glanced over at Gage who hadn’t batted an eyelash. “He was like a drug—I couldn’t stay away. I tried to break off things but he countered by proposing. I made arrangements for a private ceremony since he didn’t have any family, and I only had Anna. And then, six weeks before the wedding, he dropped off the face of the earth. I never heard from him again. Four days before the wedding, I cancelled everything, sick with fear that something horrible had happened. That’s when I realized I hardly knew enough about him to make inquiries.”

Gage muttered into her glass, “An age-old truth…a man never treats a woman better than when he’s trying to win her heart. Damn.” She swiveled on her stool. “Did you ever see him again?”

Jill reached toward the end of the counter for her purse and dug around for an aspirin. “After a succession of dead-ends, I reached one of his editors and learned Tommy Reynolds was really Tommy Reyes, a free-lance writer who occasionally worked for this editor, but never out of the country. Tommy didn’t have the training or experience to work on international assignments. He suggested I try calling Tommy’s wife.”

Gage’s neck snapped. “What?”

How she hated to admit her stupidity
. Jill nodded. “He’d told me Chicago was his home base, but home was right here in Minneapolis and included a wife, two children, a dog and three goldfish.”

“So you never saw him again?”

Jill shook her head. “I changed jobs, bought the loft, and started consulting for Wilson. I buried myself in my research, and you know the rest. No—” She lifted her chin. “I never heard from him again.”

Gage placed her hand on Jill’s shoulder. “And you’ve been the tosser ever since.”

“Look, I see your point but don’t you get it?” Jill shook off her friend’s touch. “Gavin won’t listen to anyone. He’s so

what did you call him? Damn bigger than life. And he’s holding onto a dream that is likely to shatter both of them. Ethics, conviction, expertise, whatever aside, I don’t have the heart to hang around for that.”

“Jill, do you want a relationship with him?”