Knave of Broken Hearts (25 page)

Jim seemed to stare at where Constance held his hand. He looked up at Ken, then away quickly. He sighed and seemed to sink.

Ken nodded. “Good idea. Do that. Keep icing it. Bye.” He turned and walked back toward the door.

Constance called, “But Ken, what did you want? I’m sorry I got you off track.”

He paused but didn’t look back. “Nothing important.” He was already off track. The plastic smacked his face as he left the suite.

“W
HAT
DO
you mean, you’re going out with Constance?” Ian’s big green eyes consumed his face.

Jim tied the other shoe. He felt so tired, he’d like to curl in a ball and sleep for days. What he didn’t want to do was have this conversation. “No big. I’m just taking her to dinner and some event.”

“But that’s like a date.”

“I guess.”

“She’s a woman.”

“Yes.”

“You said you’re gay.”

He leaned his elbows on his knees and stared at the rug. “I said I thought I might be gay. I was wrong.”

“But you fucked a guy!” Anderson leaped off the bed when Ian pounded both fists on it.

“Yeah, and it was great, but like you said, you don’t have to be gay to want to fuck Ken Tanaka.”

“That’s not what I said, but even if it was, what happened with Ken?”

“Nothing. I just realized that I’m blinded by the damned yaoi I loved as a kid and Ken’s a major player. If I was seeing straight, I wouldn’t be chasing his ass. I’ve loved women for twenty-six years, and there’s no reason to change for a comic book.”

That speech took everything he had. Done.

Ian opened his mouth, “But—”

Jim stood and held up a hand. “That’s all, Ian. I’m done talking about it.” His brother looked hurt, which made him want to cry, which made him mad. “I know it would have been nice if I could have been gay too, but it’s not working out.” He stomped out of his bedroom, out the apartment door, and into the truck before he melted down. Shit, he was mean to his brother. Worse, he lied to him. Big time.
Get used to it, asshole.
Ken Tanaka’s disgusted face flashed in his mind.

Oh God, how can I do this?

You’re doing something good. You’re helping Ian. Just keep saying it.

He’d said he’d pick Constance up at her house. Yes, house. A full-blown, grown-up, single-family residence in Corona del Mar. Pulling his POS truck in front of that California beach city cottage probably violated several city ordinances. He turned off the ignition and stared out the window. Coming here conjured all sorts of lurid thoughts of good night kisses and good night fucks.
Can’t go there. Can’t. What’s your plan, Carney? Holding her hand for five years?

The door opened with a screech, and he stepped out. His father hadn’t said how he’d know if Jim complied with his demands, but there must be a covert spy system. There sure as fuck better be. He couldn’t do this for nothing.
You’re doing something good for Ian.

When he got to the porch, the door opened and Constance stood there, looking pretty damned good in tight jeans and a leather jacket that probably cost his year’s income. She grinned. “I heard the truck.”

He nodded. “How could you miss it?”

“It’s a valiant vehicle, but I’m happy to take mine if you’d like.”

“Sure. That’d be great.” He should feel embarrassed but mostly didn’t feel anything.

“How’s your hand?”

“Okay.” He held it up. The paw had returned to its normal size but still featured a rainbow of colors. Seemed appropriate.

“I still think you might want to have it checked by a doctor. You don’t have to be the big, tough guy with me, you know?” She smiled.

“No, I’ve had worse.” To his hand, but not his heart. He tried to smile back.

“Want to have a drink before we go?”

“Okay.” A drink sounded damned good.

He followed her into the house. Beautiful. Just the right amount of homey and classy. “I like your place.”

“Thanks.” She led the way into a smallish kitchen with a view into a lighted backyard. Corona del Mar was right by the water, but it was flat; you only got a view if you were perched on the one street overlooking the ocean. Most of the town was like an old-fashioned village in some other part of the country. He sat on a stool at her kitchen island.

“What would you like? I have wine, beer, scotch, and Dubonnet, which doesn’t impress me as your drink.” She laughed.

“Scotch, neat.”

“Oh my, I’ve never seen you drink.”

He stared down at his hands. “I’m sneaky.”

She poured a couple of fingers of good scotch into a cut crystal glass and handed it to him, then took a glass of red wine for herself. He swirled the scotch. Just the smell made him woozy and woozy sounded very, very good. Slowly he took a sip.

“Meet with your approval?”

“Oh yeah.” He slugged back the rest and let it burn like a son of a bitch all the way down. When it hit his stomach, first it cramped, then his heart started pounding, and then that sweet, warm floatiness took over.

She gave him a little look and didn’t offer him another one, which was good if he wanted to carry on a conversation at dinner.

She set the glasses in the sink, hers still mostly full. “So where to?”

Fortunately, he’d thought about the fact that he asked her, so he better make a reservation. “Want to try that Mexican place in Crystal Cove?”

“Yes, I went there last week. It’s really good.”

“Well, damn, I wanted to take you someplace new.”

“That’s okay. My father loves new restaurants, so he hauls me on some of his excursions.”

“I’d think he’d be popular with the ladies.”

She smiled. “He is, but he likes taking me along on his dates.”

“Putting the women in their place, I’d say. Telling them they’ll never be as important as his daughter.”

“What a nice way to interpret that. A lot of people would just assume he thought I was lonely.”

Her honesty took his breath. How crappy was it that he had to lie to her too?

She grabbed her purse from the counter. “My car’s in the back.” She pulled out her phone. “I just need to send a quick text.”

Being chauffeured to the restaurant in a new-model Mercedes sports car didn’t make him feel any better. He managed to down a shot of Jack at the bar while they waited to be seated, then sipped another on the rocks with dinner.

“You okay, Jim? I’ve never seen you drink before.”

“Funny. People ask me if I’m okay when I don’t drink.” He swallowed a burning mouthful.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I tried ginger ale for a while, but it didn’t agree with me.” He cut another bite of pork chop and chewed with some mashed potatoes.

She smiled. “I think I understand why Dr. Tanaka yelled at you. You don’t pay enough attention to your health. Too busy solving problems for the rest of us.”

His stomach tightened. “Dr. Tanaka needs to butt out.”

“He’s just trying to look after your health, Jim.”

The words “fuck off” burned on his lips, but she didn’t deserve that. “He told me himself the heart thing is nothing to worry about. I get lots of exercise. He says that’s good for me.” Jesus, that almost made him cry.

“Has he given you dietary guidelines?”

“I don’t want to talk about Ken Tanaka.”

If she was startled, she hid it. “I understand. Tell me about what you like to do for fun.”

That seemed like a safe subject. It turned out she adored football and knew quite a bit about it. After dissecting the potential of the Buckeyes versus the Ducks, he settled down and even enjoyed himself for a while.

“So would you like dessert?” He didn’t want to think about the cost of all this, but Billy was giving him good pay for this job, so he could afford it.
Keep telling yourself that.

She gave him a funny, playful smile. “Well, let me look at the dessert menu.” After a glance around the big restaurant, she stared intently at the array of sweets. “What are you thinking of having?”

What he wanted was another shot of Jack, but her earlier comments talked him out of it. “Not sure. Want to split something? I was—”

“Good evening, you two.”

He looked up to find Constance’s father standing beside the table with a much younger, slinky brunette on his arm.

Constance laughed. “Surprise! Hi, Daddy.”

Jim tried not to frown. “Uh, hi. This is quite a coincidence.”
Like hell.

Constance squeezed his arm. “It’s not a coincidence. I texted Daddy where we’d be because he has a surprise for you.”

“Oh?” He hated surprises.

“Want to sit down, Daddy?”

“No, it’ll just take a minute. Good restaurant, by the way. Tiffany and I were sitting at a table in the bar.”

Jim nodded to the prettyish girl who was mostly staring around the restaurant.

Constance smiled. “Yes, we liked it too.”

Murch leaned against the edge of the table. “So what I wanted to say was, I’d like to get together with you and your business partner to discuss work you can do for Murch Development.” He grinned. “Think that’d be possible?”

Just like his father had promised. He wanted to vomit.
Smile, dammit.
Both Murch and Constance stared at him with giant shit-eating grins like they’d just given him the winning lottery ticket. Yeah, they did. He forced his lips to curve up. “I think that can be arranged. He’s away right now on his—uh, vacation, but he’ll be back Monday.”

“Good, good. We’ll give him a day to settle in, so let’s talk Tuesday and set a date.”

“I’ll tell him.”
Jesus, be happy. This could make Billy’s company.
“Thank you.”

“I’m expecting this to be good for both of us, if what Constance tells me is true. Of course, she may be blinded by your good looks.”

Constance wrapped her hands around Jim’s arm. “My vision’s 20/20 as you know, Daddy.”

“Yep, not much gets past this girl.”

“Are you bringing him to the thing?”

She glanced sideways. “Shh. I haven’t asked him yet.”

Oh shit.

“Have a great night, you two. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He laughed.

“Daddy!” Constance laughed too, although she probably felt Jim flinch. Just like he’d said to his brother.

Once her father was out of sight, Constance turned to him. “Excited?”

“Yeah. It’s great. Your dad’s girlfriend doesn’t talk much.”

She frowned a little, then shrugged. “She’s one of a string. I think he picks them so he’ll never be tempted to marry one.” She clapped her hands. “So, my invitation. This Friday there’s a big black-tie fundraiser event at the club, and I wondered if you’d like to go?”

“Club? Like Pacific Crest?”

“Yes. Daddy’s very involved with their fundraising.”

A lot more than she knew. “I’m not much of a black-tie guy.”

“You don’t have to wear a tux if you don’t want to. Hell, I don’t care if you come in jeans.”

He really did like her. “I can’t dance.”

“Me either. When would I have learned?” She grinned. “We can hang out at the bar, if you want.”

He sighed all the way to his soul. “Okay.”

“Thanks. It’ll be fun to have the handsomest date at the party.”

He snorted. “What was that you said about your 20/20 vision?”

“You’re so cute. You really don’t know how good-looking you are, do you?”

He glanced at her, then looked at his empty glass. She made him nervous.

As they drove back to her house, he got antsier. He liked the numbing effects of the scotch, but he was out of practice. The stuff made him feel weird. Or maybe it was just knowing Constance expected something from him he didn’t want to—no, couldn’t—give. How could he explain that his cock was not going to rise for her? Would it ever rise for anybody again—except Ken Tanaka?

In her garage, he crawled out of the passenger side. Now what? He walked toward the garage door.

“Would you like to come in?”

He stopped. “Uh, no. I can’t. My brother.”
You’re a chickenshit coward to be blaming Ian.

“Of course, I understand.”

He paused, then turned and walked back to her, controlling his long, slow breath. He forced a smile. “Thanks. I had a good time. You’re a really fun person.”

She looked up at him. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

Come on, Carney, you know what to do.
He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. Soft, pleasant. Her light floral perfume filled his nose. His stomach tightened and throat closed.
Gotta get out of here.
He pulled back so suddenly, she tripped forward a step. “Sorry. Late. Got to go. Thanks again.”

He turned on his heel and walked to his truck as fast as he could without looking like he was running. When he got inside, he cranked the engine and the old beast sprang to life. It wanted to leave too. Oh God, Constance still stood in the garage watching him. He waved and pulled away from the curb.

Awful. This is awful.
He couldn’t do this to such a nice lady.
It’s not fair.
He floored it and hoped the Newport Beach police were asleep at the wheel. By the time he got to Aliso Viejo, he knew it wouldn’t work. He couldn’t do this. There had to be another way.

He pulled into the parking place and practically jumped out of the car. Should he tell his father he wasn’t doing it or just let him guess? Guessing was better.

Halfway across the parking lot, he got hit by a flying missile. “Jim, Jim, you won’t believe what happened.”

His heart stuttered. “What?”

“Dad’s sending me to Berkeley. Full tuition, room and board, books, the whole thing. He even submitted my name for an internship to one of the coolest firms in northern California. Jesus, Jim, I don’t know how this happened. It’s unbelievable.”

“Yeah. What did he say?” Jim felt heat pushing behind his eyes, and he looked away.

“I didn’t talk to him. I got an e-mail from his personal assistant.”

“Seems like the chickenshit should have talked to you.”

Ian grabbed his arm. “Jim, are you listening? This is Berkeley! Jesus, I don’t care if the message came by stork.”