Trusting Jack (15 page)

             
“Emma, please.  What’s that?”

             
“We anoint the area with lavender oils, which sooth the senses, and wrap it with heated cloths.  The heat penetrates the skin, helping the oils absorb.  It aids in relaxation.”

             
“That sounds great; let’s go for it.”

             
“As you wish.”  He moved lower and began to work on her legs.  She closed her eyes and let her mind drift with the pleasure.

             
“Ms. Payne…Emma.”  She felt someone gently

shaking her shoulder.  She opened her eyes and the

masseuse was smiling at her.  “You fell asleep.”  He

helped her sit up, being careful to keep her covered

with the sheet.

             
“Wow.  I’m sorry.”  She raised a hand to smooth back her hair and realized all the stiffness was gone.  “Wow,” she said again.  “You’re great with your hands.”

             
The dark haired man actually turned pink and he lowered his brown eyes.  “Um.  Thank you.  I hope you feel better.”

             
“I do.  I think that hot oil treatment worked, even if I did sleep through it.  What’s your name?”

             
“Anthony.”  He handed her one of the spa’s signature soft yellow robes.

             
“If I ever come here again, Anthony, I’ll request you.”  She smiled at him and his smile flashed in return.

             
“I believe Ms. Jackson is waiting for you; you’re to have a facial next.”  Anthony closed the door behind him and waited.

             
Emma let the sheet fall and wrapped herself in the long robe.  She shoved her feet into the matching yellow slippers and joined Anthony in the hall.  She followed him down a hallway lined with plush cream colored carpet and pale blue walls.

             
He opened a door on the left and ushered Emma ahead of him.  Norah was already there, wearing a matching robe and stretched out in a chaise.  She smiled when she saw her friend.

             
“You look rested,” she greeted her.

             
“I am.”  Emma let Anthony lead her to the chaise beside Norah’s and plump the pillow for her.

             
“I’ll come for you when the session is up,” he told her, “and escort you to the dining area.”

             
Emma nodded and he left.  She lay down and rested her hands on her stomach.  “This is one of your better ideas.  I actually fell asleep during the massage.”

             
“I’m not surprised.  You’ve been running wide

open since we met up, and if you’re not focused on that then you’re with Jack.  Beyond that, I know you’ve had a lot on your mind.”

              Norah paused as two small, Asian women entered the room and moved to begin working their magic on them.  They were exfoliated and treated to a face and neck massage.  Their faces were deep cleansed and patted dry with fluffy towels.  After the final layer of moisturizer had been rubbed in, and the women were satisfied with their work, they smiled and left.

             
Norah sat up and rubbed her cheek.  “Like a baby’s butt, “she drawled in an exaggerated Southern accent.

             
Emma laughed.  “Yes,” she agreed, stroking the smooth, supple skin of her own face.  “This place is fantastic.  What’s next?”

             
“We’ll eat and then go to the steam baths.  Our evening rounds out with mani-pedis.”

             
“Great.”  They stood and followed Anthony as he led them down another hall and into the dining room.  After seating them and beckoning a waiter, he left with another promise to return.

             
“What are you having?” Emma asked as they looked at the menus and the waiter hovered.

             
“The baked salmon and an ice water.”

             
“I’ll try the lobster bisque.  And water with lemon, please.”  Emma snapped the menu shut and handed it their server.  He nodded and hurried off to place their orders. 

She scanned the room, which was half full with women-and a couple of men-all wearing yellow robes.  “Oh, my God.  That’s Marilyn Summers.”

              “Who?”  Norah reached for a breadstick.

             
“She plays Dr. Becca Tucker on that soap opera Mama likes. 
Only One Life
.  She watches it religiously.”

             
“Oh.  I’ve never watched it.”

             
Emma shrugged.  “It’s ok.  Some good actors, but sometimes the plots get downright ridiculous.” 

             
Their food was placed on the table and Emma spooned soup.  She hummed her appreciation while Norah took a second bite of her fish.

             
“It’s good,” she said.  Then, “Why didn’t you tell me you saw Ryan?”

             
The question caught Emma off guard.  Her spoon clattered against the bowl.  “I guess I didn’t want to bother you.  You’re working so hard, and I don’t want to….trouble you…with my problems.”

             
“I am your friend,” Norah pointed out.  “No matter how hectic it becomes while I’m filming, or if we’re on hiatus, I will always be here for you to talk to.”

             
“I know,” Emma sighed.  “But after, I just felt so stupid for letting him get to me.  Again.”

             
“Tell me about it.”  She forked more fish.

             
“We were shopping.  Jack and I.  He went inside to buy a present for Alison and I heard someone call my name.  I turned around and sure enough, there stood Ryan.”  Emma spooned more soup, let it drizzle back into the bowl.

             
“He looked just the same as the night I met him, as the night he left me.  Just as gorgeous and well dressed.  And there I was, in jeans and an old sweater.   It didn’t matter that I was wearing a fabulous coat.  My hair pulled up again.  All I could think was ‘Oh, God, he’s not gonna like what I’m wearing.”  Her voice cracked a bit and she looked away.

             
Norah pushed her empty plate aside and waited.

             
“He told me-again-what a disappointment I was

to him, how much better Renee is than me.  I let him

get to me.  And then Jack came back out.” 

Emma picked up her glass and turned it between her hands.  Her eyes shone softly.  “I could tell he was angry.  He thanked Ryan for divorcing me, told him how happy he was to be with me.  He put his arm around me and we just left Ryan standing in the street.”

              “I like that part of the story.”

             
Emma smiled.  “Me, too.”

             
“Why do you think it bothered you so much?”

             
She hesitated.  “I’m…I think because I let myself be sucked in by his lies.  And then he turned around and hurt me.  And then I met Jack, and he dazzled me.  With his looks, his charm, his goodness.  Sometimes I think, what if this is an act, too?”

             
“Jack cares about you, Emma.”

             
“I care about him, too, so much,” Emma admitted in a small voice.  “And it’s scaring the living hell out of me.”

             
“Why?”  Norah help up a hand while she ordered a huge fudge brownie topped with vanilla ice cream.  “Bring two spoons,” she said.  “We’ll share.”

             
“I think…Oh, God, Norah; I
know
I’m in love with him.”

             
“But, honey, why does that make you cry?”

             
“Because I don’t know how he feels.  Because I fucked up so bad before and I don’t want to again.  Because it’s like you said.  What happens when we’re through here?”  Her voice had trailed into a whisper and tears spilled down her cheeks.

             
Norah reached across the table and grasped her hand.  “You didn’t fuck up, Emma; you’ve got to stop thinking you did.  You have to talk to Jack; tell him how you feel.”

             
“I can’t.”  She twisted her napkin.

             
“You have to.  If you don’t, you’ll just go on hurting.  And when we are through here, and we move on, you’ll always wonder ‘what if’.”

             
Emma sighed deeply and mopped her eyes.  “You’re right; I know you’re right.  I need to tell him.  I’m so scared.”

             
“It should be sooner rather than later.”

             
“As soon as I work up the courage.  I will talk to him, I promise.  And after, take it one day at a time, I guess.”

             
Norah nodded and sat back.  “That’s all you can do.  But for now,” she said as a plate filled with brownie and ice cream appeared, “we’ll indulge our sweet tooth and get our nails painted.”  She passed a spoon across the table and smile encouragingly.

             
Emma sniffed, gave a watery laugh, and dug in.

Chapter 18

              “Don’t you ever knock?” Jack asked when James opened the door and strolled right in.

             
“Only on me boss’s door,” he replied cheerfully and dropped onto the couch next to his friend.  “What’s that?”

             
Jack laid the papers on the table and put his reading glasses on top of them.  He pinched the bridge of his nose.  “I’m trying to decide what to do next.”

             
“I’ll help you with that.”

             
“Oh, really?”

             
“Sure.  After we look over the financial statements I’ve brought along.”  At the groan of misery, he smiled. “Buck up, mate, we only do this every three months.  Then we can move on to the fun portion of the evening.  What’s for dinner?”

             
“You’re my closest friend.  As such, and the fact that you’re also my accountant, means I trust you completely not to steal my money.  I don’t know why you insist on making me look at numbers till my eyes bleed,” Jack grumbled.  “And since you are, you can find your own damn dinner.”

             
James just laughed.  “Thought you’d say that.  Mum came by and dropped off some frozen casseroles.  She told me she’d put some in your freezer as well, while you were out.”

             
“Your mother’s chicken casserole is in my freezer?”

             
“Yes.  She insists on stocking us both with her cooking.  I’ll get it out and heat it up.  And while it’s heating up we’ll do the ‘this is how your portfolio looks’ bit.  We can play after.”

             
“Fine.”  Resigned, Jack reached for his glasses,
slipped them back on.  “But only because it’s your mother’s chicken casserole.”

***

              “The stock investments we made are doing well.  Better than well, actually, you’ve made a huge profit on those.  Enough to pay off the house, with plenty left over.”

             
“That’s always good to hear.”  Jack looked around.  He’d bought the modest, two bedroom house three years ago.  He decided it was time to clear up the mortgage.  “Let’s get it paid for.”

             
“Also, the interest from the trust your grandfather left you is adding up considerably.”  James stood and moved to the oven.  He removed the casserole and set it on the counter to cool.

             
“Let’s donate the interest, then.  To the children’s cancer hospital.”

             
“So noted.”

             
“Is that it?”

             
“It is, until the next time.”  With the ease of long time familiarity, James got plates and forks, beers and bottle opener.

             
“Praise God.”  Jack stuffed the papers back into James’s briefcase.  “I could hate you for making me to this.”

             
“I could insist on formal monthly meetings in my office.”  James chuckled when Jack shuddered.  “Thought so.”  He brought everything to the table and took a swig of beer.  “You don’t have a date tonight?”