Dancing Barefoot (22 page)

She sorted through them, beautiful face growing angrier by the minute. "What the hell are these? What are you doing here? Who is this? What is going on?  Jessie?" She stalked down the hallway, photos in hand,
and heels clicking on the hardwood.

"
Yes, we all definitely need a drink," he muttered to himself as he searched the drawers for a corkscrew.

The buzzer sounded again. This time he asked who it was before letting them in. Kevin. Thank God. He opened the door without waiting for him to walk up the steps and went back to his task of pouring himself a glass of wine.

When the bedroom door slammed, he sighed and poured his friend one, too.

"Please tell me Simone isn't here," Kevin said
after frowning toward the hallway.

He handed him a glass of wine. "Let's wait out here. Jess is explaining my
presence to her best friend who just found pictures of me having sex with Simone on the kitchen counter."

Kevin shook his head, a sense of awe on his face. "Never a dull moment with you is there, Jacques?"

Deciding to take the bottle with him to the living room along with two extra glasses, he motioned for Kevin to follow.

"Would you like the long or short story?" he asked once he'd settled on the oversized chair with his ankles crossed on the footstool.

"Short." Kevin tapped his fingers against his glass, gaze nervously shooting toward the hallway.

"Simone sent a lovely collection of photographs to Jessica's office that included us having sex and us in our Thailand prison. On top of that, Jessica is a suspect in an arson. Apparently, there is some evidence in the garage we may need to deal with later." He sipped his wine and watched Kevin absorb the information.

Silent, Kevin drank his entire glass of wine before reaching for the bottle. "Just a normal day, then?"

"Routine." He shrugged, again intrigued by the sudden laugh. None of this was a laughing matter, yet he couldn't help it.

"Our trip to the Amazon will be dull in comparison." Kevin laughed, too.

At the sound of footsteps in the hall, both tried to suppress their smiles and focused on the wine in their hands.

Jessica sat on the footstool, her hands full of the photographs, and motioned toward Sela. "This is my friend Sela. Sela, this is Jacques and Kevin, his assistant."

Sela nodded at them, her gaze lingering on him, before sitting next to Kevin on the sofa. "We have a celebratory dinner tonight. I hope you both have suits."

Kevin met Jacques' gaze and they burst out laughing. Jessica dropped her hand on his knee, twisted to look at him, an answering smile on her face.

"Am I missing something?" Sela asked while reaching for the wine bottle. "Never mind. Don't answer that. I don't want to know. Just hand me that empty glass, please."

She winked at Jessie, though, as she poured.

"When in doubt, laugh. It's better than the alternative." Jessica
caressed the inside of his knee as she spoke.

"She knows everything?" he asked.

"Oh, I know more than I need to know, yes, " Sela answered as she settled back against the cushions, her gaze swinging to Kevin. "What's your part in this?"

"Innocent bystander." Kevin shrugged, a laugh still on his lips. "I see no evil, speak no evil, hear no—"

"Save it." Sela smiled, glass to her lips, and surveyed all of them before dropping her laser-like focus on Jacques. "I've heard stories...No one is innocent in this room. You're even better looking in person, Jacques...damn, Jessie, I think I'm jealous."

"I'm single, not that anyone ever asks." Kevin leaned forward and gave her
a look over the top of his eyeglasses.

"I thought you were gay," Jessica said, looking confused.

"Gay? Why does everyone assume I'm gay?" Kevin looked down at this pressed shirt and khaki pants. "Is it because I care about grooming? Since when does caring about one's appearance mean you're gay? We can't all walk around looking like a we just rolled out of bed." He motioned toward Jacques.

"Oh, yes,
you can. It's a good look," Sela muttered with a wink at Jessica.

Relief eased the tension he'd been holding in his shoulders. He'd worried that she'd condemn him before giving him a chance.

They all laughed, feeling like a band of conspirators huddled together drinking wine in the middle of the afternoon, untouched by the storm yet to come.

* * *

Chapter
Fifteen

Jessica
finished straightening her hair, feeling better after the nap, wine, and shower combination. Excitement stirred in the depths of her eyes that had nothing to do with the promotion that they were celebrating. She could have it all—correct that, did have it all. To hell with the doubters.

She stuffed a handful of aspirin into her mouth before gulping them down with a glass of water. The headache from earlier had subsided somewhat, but a dull throb persisted against her forehead.

Jacques stepped behind her, dressed more formally than she had ever seen him in a black suit with matching black shirt and tie. Freshly shaven, he rested his chin on the top of her head and met her gaze in the mirror. His fingers trailed down the length of her bare arms.

"Look at us, all grown up, dressed to kill, and going out with friends," she said after putting the glass next to the sink.

He smiled, gaze still on hers. "Older but still hot."

"Hey, no joking about being older."

"Age looks good on you."

"Marc will be there." She felt him stiffen behind her, noticed the slight hardening of his eyes, even as his hands continued their gentle caress of her arms.

"Are you ever going to explain your relationship to him? He and I didn't exactly like each other when he visited you in Italy. He's a leech. I didn't trust him then and find it interesting that you do now."

"Marc and I...we're complicated."

"Do you have an aversion to simple?" He winked before pushing her hair aside and kissing her neck.

"Look who's talking."

"I suppose I deserve that." He dropped his hands from her arms.

"No, actually, you didn't. I'm sorry." She stepped away, a tinge of guilt flexing in her heart for their time apart and all that had transpired. She twisted the ring on her finger before pulling it free and slipping it from her right hand to the left, the significance of her action fueling her determination to not be like her mother or her grandmother. They had each chosen love
or
career, but she intended to have it all. "From now on, we're simple together."

"I'm not sure that's realistic." He grabbed her left hand and looked at the ring on her finger. "Do you remember my proposal?"

"Every word." She grinned, feeling the flutter in her heart and wishing that the world outside would just let them be.

"I can't promise you a villa in Florence—"

"But you bought one already."

"Or a life without turmoil—"

"Check."

"But I can promise that I will wake up every morning eager to talk to you. I can promise you that I want to share every adventure with you for the rest of my life and that I will love you
until I die." He squeezed her hand and repeated the words he had said so long ago in Rome in front of a fountain while they had danced to the music of a street musician. "Marry me, Jessica Moriarty. Be my wife. Let's be extraordinary together."

"I've never loved anyone like I've loved you." She flattened her hands
against his chest, stood on tiptoes, and kissed him. "I said yes then after a few months and I'm saying yes again after a few days."

"No running away this time?"

"That goes for you, too."

"We need to learn to be simple together again, like we used to be." His mouth moved over hers in a feather-like touch that stirred desire deep in her gut.

"And I promise to leave a note if I ever need to leave unexpectedly."

"We will add that into our vows. Leave notes. Be simple. Say I love you every day." He stepped back and pulled his own ring from his right hand. She took it from him and placed it onto his left ring finger, the significance of the moment binding them.

"We can
do
this." She met his gaze.

"You sound like a coach when you say that."

"I've read a lot of motivational books over the past few years. Think positive and all of that." She smiled, wanting to skip the next few weeks of whatever the hell was about to happen and get to the good stuff of simply being together every day.

You're going to fuck it up, there's no way this is going to work. Wait and see,
doubt whispered and caused her smile to shake.

He smiled, dimples piercing his cheeks, and shook his head. "What am I going to do with you, Jessica Moriarty?"

"Oh, I can think of a few things I'd like to do with you, Jacques Sinclair. But first," She tilted her head at the sound of her front door opening and Sela's voice greeting Marc, "we have some things to get out of the way."

"
Your friends really love you." He tugged on one of the curls that skimmed her neck. "They're going to a lot of trouble to celebrate your promotion."

"Not all of them." From trembling smile to no smile at all, she sighed and rested her head briefly against his shoulder. "We
had better go. For better or worse and all of that."

"Your enthusiasm for this dinner is blowing me away." He released her
, sat on the edge of the bed, and slipped into his scuffed black boots. The contrast between his suit and footwear made him look like a kid playing dress up. A thick strand of blond hair fell across his eyes when he met her gaze. "What?"

"I love your boots."

"I didn't pack—"

"No, I mean it." She
laced her fingers through his and tugged. "I love your boots. They're perfect."

Side by side, they walked down the hallway toward the sound of voices. The tension grew with each step. Behind closed doors, they were perfect, but out here, well, she worried more than she would admit.

Marc lounged with his hip against the back of the sofa, his arm loosely draped around a blonde she'd seen once or twice at McDougal's. Sela chatted with them and looked stunning in the borrowed blue dress. Kevin came through the door, looking frazzled, and smiled when all eyes focused on him.

"Where did you go?" Jacques asked.

"Simone called...I went outside to take it and locked myself out. The kid from downstairs let me in." Kevin met Jacques' gaze, lingered as if trying to communicate telepathically.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, not really wanting the answer.

"Yes, it's all as good as it possibly could be." Kevin absently straightened his tie before turning his attention to the newcomers. "I'm Kevin, the assistant."

"I'm Marc, also the assistant it seems." He shook Kevin's hand. "This is Tiffany." Marc turned, his gaze firmly set on Jacques. "I never thought I'd see you again, yet here you are."

"Here I am, you're as observant as usual." Jacques ignored the outstretched hand and nodded toward the upstairs. "Weren't you going to show that schedule to me before we left? It's on your iPad, right?"

Kevin blinked at him for a minute. "Ohhhhh...yes. The iPad thing. The schedule. Yes. We need to look at that right away, it can't wait."

"Do I need to look at this
schedule
?" She rubbed sweaty palms over her hips, gaze darting between Jacques and Kevin.

"I think I should probably be looped in on the schedule, too." Sela set her glass aside and walked toward the stairs.

"What's the big deal about the schedule?" Marc squinted at all of them. "Don't we have reservations at eight? What's going on?"

"Kevin and I can handle it." Jacques put his hands on her shoulders and grinned. "We'll be right back. Have a glass of wine. It's your night to celebrate, yes?"

She sure as hell didn't feel like celebrating. She met Tiffany's gaze and grinned. "I'm glad you could make it. I think we've met before, haven't we?"

"Yes, I work at Pearson and Smithe." Tiffany shook her hand, blue eyes sparkling with knowledge. "I hear our accidents have followed the project over to you all. Our loss."

A chill went through her and she dropped the woman's hand. "All the men in my life love talking, it's the strangest thing. Yes, we had a fire, nothing quite as
disastrous as what you guys dealt with, I hear."

She surveyed the woman from head-to-toe. Not Marc's usual bimbo by any means, this woman screamed classy from her sleek blonde hair that skimmed her shoulders to the white dress that hugged the curves of her body without revealing too much skin.

"We've been dating for several months. I thought it was time she met my friends. This dinner felt like the perfect event." Marc leaned close behind Tiffany, his gaze filled with a challenge. "I sent a car to pick up your mom. I knew you wouldn't want her taking the T this late at night and know she can't afford a taxi. She's meeting us at the restaurant. I didn't think you would want her to miss your big night, what with your fiancé in town and everything."

Fuck you
, she screamed at him in her mind and hoped that the words transmitted via mind waves. Smiling, she accepted the wine glass from Sela.

"
Fiancé?" Sela looked down at her left hand. "Your ring...you switched it to the left hand...are you and Jacques engaged again?"

"Yes, we're making it official," the last word choked her throat. Nerves shook her hand as she lifted the glass to her lips.

"Well, that's fast. Less than a—" Sela stopped herself and shook her head. "I mean to say, congratulations. It's a long time coming. You finally got smart and snagged the sexy Belgian. Good for you."

"Yes, congratulations." Tiffany raised her glass in a toast, her smile appearing genuine. "My, you have a lot to celebrate tonight, don't you?"

"If we were smart, we'd be eloping to Vegas," she muttered against the rim of her glass, wishing them all away.

"Why? Don't you think you'll make it
for the long haul if you wait more than a minute?" Marc smiled, his hand resting lightly on Tiffany's shoulder.

Footsteps on the stair behind them indicated the return of Jacques and Kevin who both seem
ed lost in thought. Watching Jacques and knowing the trouble he faced, she couldn't help but think of the carefree man she had known in Italy. Every day had been an adventure filled with laughter and passion. She wanted that feeling back, wanted to make him laugh like that again, wanted the ease, wanted the freedom to do whatever the hell they wanted to do when they wanted to do it.

"
I need to go," he said when he reached her side. Regret loomed in the depths of his eyes.

"Now?" Dread swirled in the pit of her stomach.

"Yes." He stared into her eyes as if wishing to communicate telepathically. Unfortunately, that part of her brain that used to read his thoughts no longer worked.

"Your
fiancé is missing your dinner? What a shame." Marc smiled his I-Know-Everything smile.

Jacques twisted his head to look at the other man. "
I will make it up to her, don't worry."

She stood a bit taller, straightened her spine, and wished that she'd canceled the dinner. "We should go. Everything is fine. Time to celebrate."

Jacques shoved his hands through his hair and glanced at Kevin who shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. Both men looked like they wanted to flee the country. The thought made her hesitate.

Sela opened the door and ushered them out. She met Jessica's gaze and whispered, "Maybe you need to distance yourself from him for a few weeks until things settle down."

"That's what he suggested and I already said no."

"But—"

She met Jacques' gaze when she turned to close the door. "You'll be here when I get back?"

He shook his head 'no' and said, "Trust me."

She remained quiet as they piled into two waiting taxis and looked up at the glow of her apartment window. Sam, the downstairs' neighbor, walked down the steps and waved at them. She grinned, but when her attention went back to the window, the light had gone out.

She twisted in her seat in time to see Jacques and Kevin walking out of the front door
, each on a cell phone.

"Do you trust him?" Sela asked. "Are you sure he isn't playing you for a revenge scheme, perhaps making you fall for him again just to break your heart?"

She whipped her head around and gaped at her friend. "How can you say that?"

"Because it would be the
ultimate revenge, wouldn't it? You left him, now he's leaving you." Sela shrugged. "Do you trust him or not?"

"I do, I trust him," she said, once again hating this idea of a mid-week dinner.

Sela reached over and squeezed her hand. "Then I do, too."

"That easy, huh?"

"You're my friend, Jessie. If you trust him, so do I." Sela looked at the cab following him. "What's up with Marc and Tiffany? She came out of the blue, didn't she?"

"I'm not so sure." She thought of the accidents at the other architecture firm. "I'm beginning to think Marc is a very calculated person. He really doesn't like me being his boss."

"You're his boss?" Sela frowned. "I knew you were promoted but—"