Heroes (Hollywood Heartthrobs #1) (14 page)

After
a long and satisfying lunch, Dean and Jane ambled back in the general direction
of Shiloh’s. They stopped at a clothing store so Jane could pick up some
essentials: a pair of jeans, two t-shirts, and several days’ worth of
underclothes. At Dean’s insistence, they also picked up a cheap pay-as-you-go
cell phone for Jane to use.

Dean
hadn’t even realized where they were until he looked slightly up the road at a
bus shelter.
The
bus shelter. He didn’t say anything at first, but Jane
felt his arm tense. She saw the set, strained expression on his face.

“Dean,
is something wrong?”

Dean
didn’t answer for a moment, but stopped to look around at the buildings. Mostly
offices and trendy condo units. He spoke without looking down. “Jane, I want
you to look around these buildings for a second.”

“Why?”

“Just
look around and tell me if you get a familiar feeling about anything. Like you
did watching Henry.”

Jane
considered the tall, mostly featureless glass and stone structures around them.
“Nothing right away.”

“Let’s
give it a minute,” Dean said, still not looking at Jane.

Jane
continued to inventory the buildings around her, but to no avail. Her focus was
on Dean’s sudden change in demeanor. She took a step forward and turned around
directly in front of him. He looked up, but she patiently leaned in until he
couldn’t help but meet her gaze. He seemed pale.

“Dean,
what is special about this place? Nothing here looks particularly familiar.
Something’s upset you, and I want to know what it is. Whatever it is, let me
help.”

Let
me help. The words echoed in Dean’s mind. Of course that’s what Jane would say.
Helping him right here got her into this whole mess. Looking into those lovely
green eyes, the green eyes he had first seen on this very corner, how could he
ever tell her how much she had helped him? He took a breath and forced a small
smile. “I hoped you might remember something here, because it’s the one place I
know for a fact that you’ve been before. This corner is where the accident
happened.”

The
pain on Dean’s face broke her heart. She didn’t understand it. Why did he seem
to feel so guilty? Did he blame her amnesia on himself? It was as if he thought
her injuries were his responsibility, like the accident was his fault somehow.
Jane dismissed that line of inquiry. It would be pointless. It wasn’t as if she
could argue about the circumstances of the accident. For all she knew, he could
have bumped into her and accidentally pushed her into traffic. All she could do
was try to convince him to lay the guilt down. She chose her next words
carefully.

“I’m
sorry Dean, I don’t recognize anything here.” She smiled at him. “But I’m glad
to see this place.”

“What?”
The ridiculousness of her statement snapped Dean out of the horrible
slow-motion replay in his head.

Summoning
her courage, Jane put her right hand to his cheek. “This is where I met my
hero.”

Their
kiss on that street corner, gentle and tender at first, grew in force and
passion until the passenger of a passing car leaned out the window and shouted
at them to get a room. Only then did they separate and begin walking back to
Shiloh’s, Dean’s arm warm and solid around Jane’s shoulder. 

It
was a little after four when they arrived, tired but happy, back at Shiloh’s.
Jane called Dr. Frobisher from her new phone, confirming that her condition was
unchanged but that she was safe and sound outside the shelter of the hospital.
As soon as she hung up, Dean got a call from Samantha’s cell phone.

“Hey
Sam,” he answered automatically.

          A small voice
giggled ecstatically on the other end. “Fooled you Uncle Dean! You thought I
was Mommy!”

          Dean grinned.
“You got me good there, Alec.” His voice took on a mock stern tone. “Does Mommy
know you’ve got her phone?”

          More
giggling. “Yes, she’s right here. I just wanted to call so I could surprise
you.”

          “As long as
Mommy said it was okay. Something you need little man?”

“Um…”
Alec trailed off. There were sudden sounds of a brief struggle before Tucker’s
voice came on the line.

          “This is
Tucker.” He said officially. “Mommy wants to know if you’re coming home for dinner.
What should I tell her?” Clearly Tucker had determined his younger brother
inadequate to the important task of finding out if Dean was coming home.

          “Hey, Tucker.
Go easy on your little brother. But yeah, I’ll be home. Be there before you
know it.”

          “Okay, thank
you,” Tucker said in the same official manner. “That’s all.” He hung up. Dean
chuckled.

          Jane had
watched the brief exchange tenderly. Dean looked up at her, still smiling.
“Boys missing their Uncle Dean?”

          “Seems so. I
should get back for dinner… as long as it’s alright with you.”

          “Alright? Why
wouldn’t it be?”

          “Like I said,
you’re my guest here. Are you going to be alright here tonight on your own?”
Dean smiled, but the look in his eyes was earnest.

          Jane rolled
her eyes. “I’m a big girl, Dean. I’ll be just fine. You’ve got the boys to go
home to.”

          Dean reached
across the table and took her hand. “Jane, I’d really like you to meet them.
Just not tonight.” He paused. “Wait, that came out wrong. I mean…”

          Jane caught
him. “No, it’s okay, I understand. I require a lot of explanation.” She didn’t
seem angry or disappointed at all, just perfectly accepting.

          “That’s
exactly it.” God, sometimes it seemed she understood what he meant better than
he did.

          “You go home,
visit with your family. I’ve been hogging you all day.”

Dean
got up and kissed her gently on the forehead. If he kissed her on the mouth he
knew he wouldn’t be able to leave. It seemed she understood that as well,
reaching out only to affectionately ruffle his hair.

“I
should go then,” he said, still regretfully.

Jane
walked him to the door. “You should. But, Dean, I just have to say it one more
time. Thank you for everything. Today was absolutely incredible. You sure seem
to have a thing for rescuing me.”

“Your
humble servant,” he said, kissing her hand and bowing in courtly style. She
laughed out loud. “I’ll see you soon, Jane.”

He
wasn’t gone five minutes when Jane heard a knock on the door. Peering through
the peephole, she saw Dean standing in the hallway.

“Did
you miss me?” she asked playfully.

“Yes,
but that’s not why I came back up here,” Dean said with a smile. “I was
supposed to give you this this morning, but I realized I still had it in my
car. Here.” He held out a large sheet of thick construction paper with pasta
glued to one side.

“Make
this yourself?” Jane asked with a quizzical expression.

“No.
Tucker made it and asked me to give it to you.” The quizzical expression melted
from Jane’s face, revealing a softness beneath it. “He wanted me to say he’s
glad you’re okay and that this is for you. Apparently it’s a picture of an
elephant. Elephants are his favorite animal.”

Jane
was speechless for a moment. “Dean, this is so sweet. I’m genuinely touched.
Please compliment the artist for me.” When she looked back up at Dean, her eyes
shined with tears.

“I’ll
do that.” Dean said, grinning. He kissed her quickly on her cheek and headed
back down to his car.

In
his small office in Ann Arbor, Michigan, Adam was officially worried. Yesterday
he had been merely concerned, today it was upgraded to real worry. He tried to
tell himself nothing was wrong, but he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that
something was terribly amiss. He hadn’t heard from Jessie all week. Not that
she needed to check in or anything, but he’d sent her a couple of texts on
Monday and Tuesday complaining about his students and asking how her research
was going in Chicago, none of which she had answered. Jessie had a habit of
leaving her phone on silent when she worked, which was essentially always, so
long gaps between texts were no big deal. On Wednesday morning he’d emailed her
about a particularly hilarious student complaint at office hours, no response.
That was less like her. Finally Wednesday night he’d called her. It went straight
to voicemail. Jessie put her phone on silent all the time, but unless she was
on an airplane or out of the country he couldn’t remember the last time she’d
actually turned it off. 

This
morning, knowing she kept a spare key to her office in a houseplant outside the
door, he’d checked her calendar. It’s not snooping if you’re doing it out of
love, he told himself. She’d written down the address of her hotel in Chicago.
Adam had phoned, asking to speak to Ms. Brooke. The hotel confirmed that Ms. Brooke
had checked in on Sunday, staying until Saturday, but a call to her room went
unanswered. After some gentle wheedling and convincing (Adam had read up on
Kevin Mitnick) he had gotten it out of the desk staff that Ms. Brooke’s room
had appeared vacant since Monday. Every day the cleaning staff went in, but the
room looked absolutely undisturbed. This seemed like a good time to commence
panicking. He’d even phoned the Chicago police about a missing person, but the
harried-sounded officer seemed unconvinced anything was wrong.

“Look,
buddy,” he had said, “I’m sorry your girlfriend isn’t taking your calls right
now, but if she’s out enjoying the city and doesn’t want to talk to you that’s
not a matter for the police.” Adam hung up, enraged.

Aside
from himself, the person most likely to know Jessie’s whereabouts was her
mother. Jessie had grown up in a small town in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, and
Adam had met her parents, Ernie and Karen Brooke, on several occasions when
they had come down to visit Ann Arbor. He’d even gone up with Jessie to her
hometown for Thanksgiving once when his own parents were traveling abroad. On
the one hand, Jessie had a wonderful relationship with her mom; on the other it
wasn’t unusual for them to go a week without talking, especially when Jessie
had something like a conference or a deadline occupying her mind. If something
had happened to Jessie, he knew she would call her mom first. But, if she
hadn’t called, he saw no reason to alarm Karen.

Adam
hesitantly dialed the phone, rehearsing key points in his head.

“Hello?”

“Hi
Karen, it’s Adam Talbot. From Ann Arbor.”

“Oh
hello, Adam! How are you?” 

“Good,
good, how are things up north?”

“Oh,
fine. The weather is finally starting to warm up. Been out in the garden this
afternoon, the rhubarb is just starting to poke up through the ground. Spring
must be coming.”

“That’s
great. Say, I wanted to ask you a favor.”

“Sure
thing, sweetheart.”

“You
know those oatmeal chocolate cookies you made last time you visited? Well,
Jessie brought some to the university to share and I was wondering if I could
have your recipe? I’m sure Jessie knows, but I didn’t want to bother her in
Chicago.”

“Certainly,
Adam. Got a special someone to bake cookies for?” Karen was a sweet soul, Adam
thought. He hated to be deceitful to her, but no sense in worrying her until he
was absolutely certain there was something to worry about.

He
pretended to take down the recipe before introducing Jessie again. “I don’t
suppose you’ve talked to Jessie since she got to Chicago? I texted her to ask
how the research is going but I’m sure she’s nose to the grindstone.”

“I
talked to her Sunday just before the drive down but not since. You know how
wrapped up she gets her work, and I didn’t want to pester her before the big
conference. I’m sure we’ll all get the story as soon as she gets home.”

“Sure
thing, Karen. And thanks again for the recipe. Good luck with the rhubarb
crop.”

“Anytime,
Adam. Let me know how it turns out. Men love a date who can bake.”

Hanging
up, Adam felt awful. So Jessie hadn’t spoken to her mom, either. She couldn’t
have just disappeared. Where the hell was she?

He
was distracted all through his teaching sessions, wondering what to do or say
next. He tried Jessie’s number again, straight to voicemail. He sent a third
email, nothing. This was not like Jessie. That evening he looked up the number
of the Milton conference organizer to call and ask if Ms. Brooke had arrived
for the cocktail reception that was scheduled to open the conference. He was
told she had not arrived. Putting the phone down, Adam tried to resist thinking
of his best friend hurt or murdered or in some other sort of terrible big-city
calamity. Should he start calling hospitals? God, the city morgue? He was
trying to pull himself back from the edge of panic when his phone rang. A
number he didn’t recognize came up. He answered immediately.

“Hello?”

“Adam?”
It was a woman’s voice, but not the one he had hoped to hear.

“Yes.
Who is this?”

“It’s
Cilla Lemmon. It’s been a long time, sorry to call out of the blue. I was
worried you might not even have the same number.” 

“Yeah,
long time. Something I can help you with?” Adam asked, confused. Cilla had been
an undergraduate student in English at University of Michigan a few years back,
but had transferred to another university. She had been a good friend of
Jessie’s, but Adam hadn’t spoken to her in years.

“You
and Jessie Brooke are still really close, right?”

“Yeah,
why?” This was getting weirder by the minute.

“Well,
I’m in Chicago at the big Milton conference, and I’m trying to get a hold of
her. We sort of bumped into each other today, and I really need to talk to her
about it.”

“What?!”
Adam nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Oh
God, she told you, didn’t she?” Cilla sounded distraught. “I swear, Adam, it
wasn’t what it looked like. I didn’t even know Richard was staying in the same
hotel but I saw him in the lobby and we were both getting coffee we started
talking about the conference and walked out together and he put his arm around
me and I swear that’s all that happened!”

“Wait,
Cilla, slow down. You were with Richard today? Richard Pinkman?”

“We
weren’t together, but yes, we were walking together.”

“And
you saw Jessie?”

“Yeah,
she was having lunch in a restaurant. I thought she saw me with Richard and I
know how horrible he was to her so I didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. I
assumed she’d be at the reception today but she wasn’t so I tried calling her
phone but it went straight to voicemail, and I just thought maybe you had a way
to reach her. I just want her to know it was nothing.”

“Cilla,
I don’t give a damn if you’re sleeping with Richard. Where did you see Jessie?”
Adam was trying to keep his voice under control.

“But
I’m not!” Cilla sounded close to tears.

Adam
backpedaled fast. “Okay, okay, you’re not, I believe you. It’s fine. I just
need you to tell me where and when you saw Jessie today.”

“It
was a little after two o’clock today on Columbus Drive, just north of
Millennium Park.”

“And
you’re sure it was Jessie?”

“I’m
sure.”

“How
did she look?” Adam asked.

“What
do you mean?” Cilla finally seemed to realize something was amiss.

“I
mean, did she look okay? Happy? Healthy?”

“Well,
her left arm was in a cast, but otherwise fine. She was at a table laughing
with this guy.”

“What
guy?”

“I
don’t know, Adam. Some guy. Young, blonde, really handsome.”

“Jessie
was talking and laughing with a handsome guy?”

“Oh
yeah, I thought Richard was going to have kittens.” Adam would have chuckled if
he hadn’t been so distraught.

“But
you two didn’t talk?”

“No,
I was too embarrassed to talk to her after she’d seen Richard’s arm around me.”

“And
one more time, you are absolutely certain this was Jessie?”

“Adam,
I’m positive.”

“Okay,
I’ll make sure she gets the message about Richard. But, Cilla, do me a favor,
if you see Jessie again, call me right away, okay?”

“Um,
okay, if you say so.”

“I
do. And thanks, you’ve really helped me today.”

Adam
hung up the phone, his mind whirling. Jessie, arm in a cast, having lunch in a
Chicago restaurant with a handsome guy. Jessie, going all the way to Chicago
but then blowing off the conference’s opening reception. It made no sense.
Unless Cilla was wrong, and she’d simply mistaken some other woman for Jessie.
But in that case, where was Jessie? Assuming Cilla had made a mistake, the
options seemed universally bad. If Cilla was right, and Jessie was off
cavorting with some man instead of working (a very un-Jessie thing to do), why
had she shut everyone out? Adam and her mom usually knew everything about every
guy Jessie had so much as bumped into in the elevator, let alone been out on a
date with. This was all way too weird. Adam dragged himself off to bed, but
sleep didn’t come easily. What the hell was going on?

***

          After Dean
left, Jane changed into the borrowed pajamas from that morning. She struggled
out of the yellow dress, cursing herself for not thinking to ask Dean to unzip
her before he left. Yeah, that was all you needed today, she thought. More of
that electric tension.

          The apartment
felt strangely empty without Dean. Jane tried to stop thinking about him, but
failed completely. Who was this hero who saved the girl from the front of the
truck, who rode up to a mental hospital on a white horse and carried her off to
a safe harbor? Why had he been so upset by the scene of the accident earlier
that day? Just like her memory, she felt sure that everything would make sense
eventually. She just needed to find that solid ground, who she was. Solve that,
and the other puzzle pieces would fall into place. That gut confidence was all
she had to rely on at the moment. Well, that and the inexplicable,
untrustworthy sense of peace she got staring into those beautiful blue eyes.
Dammit.

          Jane settled
down on the couch. There was a small bookshelf in Shiloh’s living room. The top
row was of brown leather-bound hardbacks with gold lettering that looked as
though they’d never been opened. Jane figured that meant one of two things:
either they were a valuable collector’s set too precious to be read, or they
were decorative and the owner just never bothered to read them. She placed her
bet on the latter. She was thrilled to see
Jane Eyre
on the shelf,
having not had the chance to finish it during her hospital stay. Within moments
she lost herself in the story completely. Dean was wrong, she thought. The
story isn’t about Jane rescuing Rochester. The story is about them rescuing
each other.

***

          Dean made
good time on the drive back to Nathan and Samantha’s, arriving just as Samantha
finished preparing dinner. No one asked about where he had been, but he
couldn’t help but notice Nathan and Samantha looking at him and then sharing
glances between themselves. No doubt an entire conversation was happening on a
lovers’ frequency only they could hear.

          That night,
Dean volunteered for bedtime stories. Tucking his older nephew in, he
whispered, “By the way, Tuck, I gave Jane, the lady from the accident, your
picture. She liked it so much she almost cried.” Tucker beamed with pride.

          He returned
downstairs to see Nathan and Samantha curled on the sofa. Nate broke the
silence first.

          “So, Dean,
tell us about your day.” He grinned conspiratorially. The grin faded quickly
when he caught his brother’s eye. “Dean? What’s wrong?”

          “I… I need to
talk to you about something.”

          Samantha got
up graciously so as not to intrude on the moment between them. She kissed Nate
on the cheek, then trailed a hand gently across Dean’s shoulder as she headed
for the stairs. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.” Dean shot her a thankful
look as she left.

          “Okay, Dean,
you’ve got my attention. What’s going on?”

          Dean took a
deep breath before he spoke. “I’d like to bring Jane around for dinner tomorrow
night to meet everyone, if it’s alright with you.”

          Nate answered
with a laugh. “Damn, Dean, Hollywood has certainly given you a flair for the
dramatic. Of course, Sam and I would love to meet her. And don’t worry, I can
give the boys a thorough talking to, make sure they’re on their best behavior.
I thought something was actually wrong.”