Island Hearts (Jenny's Turn and Stray Lady) (4 page)

“Didn’t he bring you home?” he asked, his hands pushed deep into his pockets. “You haven’t got him very well trained yet.”

“I’ll work on it.” Jenny turned away from Jake. “Hi, Monica.”

“The new boyfriend?” speculated Jake from behind her. “Or is he an old one come back?”

“Who?” Monica asked from the sofa. She looked indecently contented, thoroughly kissed.

Jake said, “I want to talk to you, Jennifer.”

“About George?”

He said, “No. About your holidays.”

Jenny had known it was coming. She turned away, fitting her coat carefully onto the hanger as he said, “You’ll have to wait until we get the Eglinton video underway. I can’t spare you until then.”

“Oh?” She smoothed the coat, turned and walked into the small kitchenette.

Hans had taken ten days off only a month ago, but not Jenny. She’d been waiting almost two years for more than a few days, and now she’d have to wait again. What would he do if she just walked out? He could fire her – serve him right if he did. Then he’d find out just how much work she did, just how badly he needed her.

“Jennifer?” his voice followed her, faintly worried.
Good
! Let him worry, he deserved it. She let the door swing, listening to it click shut, closing him outside.

Mercifully, he didn’t follow her.

Monica came a moment later. “Are you making coffee, Jenny? Jake wants coffee.”

“
Does he, now?
” Monica stared at her sarcastic tone and Jenny said quietly, “I’m boiling water for tea. There’s only just enough for me.”

She’d like to pour the whole kettleful over his head.

Monica started filling the coffee maker with water. “What were you and Jake talking about when you came in?”

“Work.”

Monica smiled a dreamy smile and said softly, “I’m going to marry him, Jenny.”

Jenny’s heart slammed against her ribs. She had to clear her throat, but her voice was still hoarse. “
Jake asked you to marry him?
”

“Not yet, but he will.” Monica touched her own lips, almost whispering, “He’s on the verge of it. He’s been hinting, and I’m going to say yes when he does. I love him, Jenny. There’s nobody else like him.” Monica gave her a quick hug, then slipped away to her lover.

No! Jake didn’t
marry
his women. He kept them at a distance, played with them, then let them go.

Jenny watched the steam rising from the kettle, an angry pain washing over her as she thought of Jake and Monica married. Every day, Jake would leave the studio, go home to Monica. Jenny would watch him go, then she would drive home alone.

She had a terrifying, horrible vision of herself going out walking in the night, going all the way to False Creek, looking up into Jake’s window… knowing from the darkened windows that they were lying together, their skin touching from shoulders to thighs.

Surely she wouldn’t be such a fool as to do that, wandering around the city like a lovesick fool! Even when Lance abandoned her, she hadn’t been
that
insane with love!

Any man who married Monica would end up having a big family. What kind of a father would Jake make? Loving. Stern sometimes. Monica would have to watch him, be sure he didn’t become too intensely involved in work to have time for his children.
My God!
Would they ask her to be godmother?

Jenny could picture their children. She blinked back the tears, angrily tore off a paper towel square from the holder and roughly dabbed at her eyes.

They looked good together – his dark maleness beside her soft, feminine fairness, his suntanned skin against her white fragility.
Their children—

The kettle was boiling, steam whistling through the small hole. She turned it off, set it aside, listening to the sounds it made as the water stopped boiling. She had to get out of here, away from them both before the tears really did come. She’d
never
be able to explain tears to Jake.

She stood very still, breathing heavily as if she’d just run a hard race. She took a deep, calming breath, slowly forcing her heartbeat slower. If Jake wanted coffee this time of night, he’d be planning to go back to work when he left Monica. Did Monica realize that?

Monica might have it wrong. Jake wasn’t one for hinting. Or marrying.

Jennifer. He
always
called her Jennifer. As if he were different from everyone else, wouldn’t call her the same name everyone else used. Sometimes, she wondered if it meant that she was special to him. More than once he’d looked at her as if he wanted her – but he wanted so many women, and she wasn’t about to become one of the crowd.

It was a good thing he called her Jennifer. It reminded her of Lance, kept her on guard.

She made herself remember Lance as she checked her face in the mirror above the sink, making sure there was no sign of tears. She’d been seventeen, so much in love, so desperately in love with him. She’d given him everything, held nothing back when he asked. She’d been happy, ecstatic, touching the clouds in her new love, in the sudden awareness of her own womanhood, the knowledge that she would never be alone again.

Her lover. He’d touched her with intimacy, told her she was the only woman he would ever want. Marriage was a word they hadn’t needed to speak. Jenny had known, with foolish confidence, that Lance was hers forever.

Forever. Until the night she told him that she was expecting his child.

Then had come loneliness, emptiness. Aunt Georgina had found her crying once. After that, Jenny had kept the tears inside, grew a wall around her hurt until she could hardly feel it.

She wouldn’t cry now, either. This was nothing, only a fantasy she sometimes gave way to, thinking of Jake touching her with love. He’d never know about it; no one would.

She walked silently back into the entrance hallway. Silence from the living room. She held the hanger with one hand as she slipped her coat off it, careful not to let the metal hanger make noise as it swung free of the coat.

“Where are you going?”

Jake, moving towards the door, prowling, like a tiger. Keeping tabs on her again.

“Why?” she demanded, thrusting her chin out aggressively.

He laughed, but she knew he was irritated. “Just answer, Jennifer. Don’t evade. Don’t turn my question back on me. Where are you going?”

“Out.” She didn’t care how angry she made him. She wanted him to be angry. She caught herself breathing quick and shallow, preparing for angry words she’d never intended to say.

His eyes narrowed, watching her. “I’m sorry, Jennifer, but there’s nobody else who can get that video ready for shooting. As soon as we get it done, you can have your time – take an extra week if you like.”

“I’m not angry.” He knew she was lying but she didn’t care. “Jake, step aside, please. I’m going out.”

His face hardened. He planted himself more firmly in her path, the muscles of his thighs tensed against his slacks. She felt tension all through him. “It’s late. You can’t go prowling around Vancouver alone this time of night.”

She laughed bitterly. “Can’t I? I’m a big girl, Jake.”

“Coffee’s ready,” Monica’s soft call came from the living room where she was setting out a tray with cups and coffee.

He grasped her arm roughly, holding her back. “Jennifer—”

She jerked away. “What makes you think I’m going to be alone?”

Why was he so angry, so aggressively determined to keep her in the apartment?

Monica came up and linked her arm with Jake’s, smiling a query.

Jenny said, “I’m just going out for a bit. See you later.” Then she left quickly, while Monica was still clinging to his arm.

She couldn’t seem to get warm, even when the car heater started blasting at her. She drove to the studio and found it cold there too.

It was Friday night. No time to be working, but she knew she couldn’t do anything else tonight. Where else could she go to be alone? She turned on the computer, opened the web browser and tried to pretend she wanted to be sitting at a cold computer console doing research.

When a key turned in the door, she didn’t pause. She was ready for him now. She was calm again, able to tell herself that it didn’t matter who Jake married or didn’t marry.

She didn’t look up, because she wasn’t quite
that
calm.

“I thought you were out with your George?” He was leaning against the doorway, watching her thoughtfully. “Or Wayne?”

She bent her head, her long hair dropping like a curtain between them. She touched a key to get a printout of the data on the screen. The noise of the printer covered her failure to answer him.

“You should be home in bed, Jennifer.”

“So should you.”

She still wouldn’t look at him, but she could hear the smile in his voice. “I guess we’re both crazy,” he said, touching her shoulder briefly with his hand as he walked past her. Then he was sitting at the easel on the far side of the room, sketching something as if he would lose it if he didn’t get it on paper quickly.

They worked together without talking for over an hour. When Jenny made a pot of tea, Jake didn’t seem to notice the steaming mug that appeared beside him, although he absently picked it up later.

He was working, drawing dark black lines on the design he had sketched. She stood beside him for a moment after she put the tea down. She could smell his aftershave faintly – he was using a different scent tonight. Perhaps something Monica had given him.

She had an urge to touch him, to make him look at her. If she did, he’d have a question in his eyes. Yes? What did you want, Jennifer?

She would have no answer, so she went back to the computer, opened the browser again and started asking for more information.

A few minutes later, she looked over and saw him slipping out of his suit jacket, tossing it towards a nearby chair without looking to see if it had landed.

He held his shoulders stiffly. She could see the muscles moving through his light shirt. If she were Monica, she’d walk over and massage his shoulders, soothe the stiffness away.

What was wrong with her these last couple of days? All these years, she’d kept her crazy attraction to him under control. Now, suddenly, she kept looking, imagining, wanting. She couldn’t seem to stop herself.

He didn’t notice when she picked up his jacket, hanging it on the coat rack near the door. He didn’t look up until she put on her own coat.

“Going home?” He dropped the pen, leaning back as if he were giving up for the night, too.

“Yes.” She slid her hands into the pockets, feeling for her keys. “I’ll be back in tomorrow.”

“I won’t.” He kneaded the back of his neck with one hand, wincing as he did. “I’m going over to Victoria for the weekend.”

She said tonelessly, “I know. Monica told me.”

“Do you want me to drive you home?” He stood up, started looking around.

“Your jacket’s here on the hook,” she told him. He spotted it then and nodded, moving towards her and the jacket. Self consciously, she stepped back. “I don’t need a ride. I’ve got my car. Don’t stop working.”

“It’s all right.” He looked back at the easel, nodding to himself. “I’ve got it now. I had an idea – I had to get it on paper.”

She shook off a fanciful idea that he was lonely, that he didn’t want her to go yet.

He took his jacket off the hook, his eyes watching her with uncomfortable intensity. “Jennifer, you’re acting oddly these last couple of days. Is everything all right with you?”

Surely there was no way that he could know how she really felt? She said firmly, “I’m fine. It was a surprise seeing George again.” The distraction worked. He frowned at George’s name and she buttoned her coat right up to the neck, shivering again. “Jake?”

“What?” he asked absently.

She hesitated, but she had to know. “Are you going to marry Monica?”

Jake’s eyes were too darkly shuttered. Jenny hadn’t a chance of seeing his expression. She felt his sudden stillness, knew he was watching her with a look she couldn’t interpret. She looked down at the buttons of her coat, absently undoing the top one, then doing it back up again.

“Am I going to marry Monica?” he repeated slowly, thoughtfully. “Yes, I probably will.”

She didn’t answer. She had thought she was prepared, but she hadn’t really believed it was true. She felt her face grow stiff, knew that she mustn’t let him see. She bent over her buttons again, then turned her collar up and moved towards the door.

“Jennifer—” She heard him move behind her. She grasped the door handle and turned it. She had to get away from him, quickly.

“Goodnight, Jake.“

Chapter 3

Jake slammed the door and erupted into the office, his camera and attaché case tangled with the overcoat slung over his arm. In the next room, Jenny stopped pretending to concentrate on the notes in front of her. She’d been waiting all morning for Jake to come in.

Last night she’d tried to convince herself that she didn’t care who Jake married. In spite of Hans – in spite of her own relegation to the drudgery jobs this last year – she didn’t want to stop working for Jake.

Sometime in the night, before the sun rose again, she’d finally admitted to herself that she couldn’t bear to watch Jake and Monica making their life together. She didn’t know exactly when it had happened, but she’d fallen in love with Jake.