Lost in Love (14 page)

True, and short of abandoning his post here, he didn’t think he would. “It shouldn’t make any difference. I’ll go over the numbers carefully and let you how they seem. Just hold off a little while longer.”

“I don’t like this, Waite,” his partner grumbled. “I picked you for this water deal not only because you’re diligent in your research. You can ferret out a bogus claim like no one I’ve seen.”

“And I can do that long distance.”

“Yeah, but we’re stalled because of you, and you’re not acting like yourself. You already cancelled coming out twice, and now this. You’re distracted.”

You think?
He rolled his eyes. “I admit that I have a few things going on in my life, but it’s nothing that’ll affect this deal. Based on the research I’ve done so far, I have a good feeling about it. I can finish the due diligence here, and we’ll be set to write a check.”

“I don’t know …”

He sat up, frustrated. “Nelson, when have I ever let you down?”

“There’s always a first time.”

A soft knock sounded at his door and then it opened. The assistant assigned to him poked her head in, her eyes wide like she’d just seen something scary. Pointing over her shoulder, she mouthed something.

Jack frowned. What the hell was she trying to tell him? He held up a finger. This phone call was almost at an end anyway.

She shook her head so vehemently he thought it’d fly off her shoulders. She mouthed it again, more deliberately.

He shook his head. “Listen, Nelson, I need to go.”

“Of course you do.”

“Send me the reports. We’ll discuss everything then.”

“Maybe.”

Something in Nelson’s voice made Jack still. “What’s that about?”

“I’m just saying you don’t seem serious about this. We’re talking about investing a fortune in this, a fortune I can’t afford to lose the way you can.”

“What does that mean?”

“I have a family to support, Waite, and I don’t have daddy’s money to fall back on.”

He sat up, eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”

“I’m just letting you know there are plenty of people serious about this deal. I have options, and I’m not going to wait around forever.”

“Tell you what. I’m going to chalk up this entire conversation to stress and forget you said any of it. In the meantime, get me the results of the tests.” He hung up and turned to his assistant. “What?”

She quailed under his glare.

Damn it. He rubbed his shoulder. “Delia, right?”

She nodded.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you. My anger was completely directed at the person on the phone and should never have bled onto you.” At her astonished blinking, he smiled ruefully. “Have I been that bad to work for?”

“No, sir. It’s just that most of the corporate heads I work for don’t apologize.”

“I raised Jackson better than that,” a sweet Southern voice said from the doorway.

He hopped up to attention on reflex, just like his mother, who was gliding through the doorway, had taught him to do when a woman entered the room. “Mama. What are you doing here?”

She rolled her eyes as she lifted her cheek for his kiss. “Can’t you guess, sweetheart?”

“What the hell is this?” his father bellowed as he barged into the office. He held up the pink underwear.

Delia gave him a wide-eyed look as she back out and closed the door.

“I wondered where that went.” Jack got up and took the underwear from his father, stuffing it in his pocket.

“Boy, you have explaining to do.” Despite the bellow, Hiram gave him a manly hug, clapping him on the back and then holding on to him.

Jack hugged his father back. Moments like this made all the aggravation the old man put him through more than worth it. “It’s good to see you, but I won’t deny that it’s a surprise.”

“I won’t ask if it’s a happy surprise.” His father began to pace around the room, checking out the sparse furnishings.

Laura sat down on a chair. “Hiram, sit down. You’re wearing me out.”

“I can’t sit down. I’m agitated.”

His mom faced Jack and shook her head.

Jack sat in his chair, leaning back with his legs crossed. “You aren’t supposed to be worked up, Dad.”

“How can I not be worked up? My baby is drowning and I’m sitting at home diddling my thumbs.”

He took a deep breath, feeling his buttons being slowly pushed, and reigned in patience he didn’t possess. “I’m here taking care of your baby, Dad. It’s all coming along. We’ve already managed to get things back on track, closer to the original launch date. As it is, I think we can do a soft launch with most of each property open.”

“Ha!” the old man barked. “I saw Quinn’s last report, and we didn’t look anywhere near ready to open, especially at Suncrest.”

“I just visited there,” he said as calmly as he could. “It’s close to being ready to be furnished.”

“You’re distracted.” Hiram pointed a blunt finger at him. “Your last report was barely coherent.”

“What was incoherent about it?”

“The wording.”

Gritting his teeth, Jack opened his laptop and pulled up the last report. Quinn had written it for him to send out, so he knew without a doubt that it was as coherent as words could ever be. “I just pulled it up, and it looks fine to me.”

His stubborn father crossed his arms. “Something’s wrong here, and I demand to know what it is.”

“Nothing’s wrong, Dad,” he said with exaggerated patience.

“Bullsh—”

“Hiram,” his mother said in warning as she looked at her cellphone. “Language.”

“Bullpucky,” his dad amended. He stared steadily at Jack, his gaze implacable. “I know in my gut that something’s wrong. You want to tell me?”

Yes, he did, and this was the perfect opportunity to tell his dad that he didn’t want to be here. He thought of his water deal and Nelson’s ultimatum, and everything in him wanted to turn control over to Quinn right then and there. He wanted to be free to pursue his own life. “Actually—”

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught his mother giving him a desperate throat-cutting signal with her hand, her eyes wide.

He shut his mouth and frowned. Was something wrong with his dad?

She shook her head, but she put a hand over her heart and widened her eyes like she was going to pop.

“See? You can’t even finish a thought.” Hiram began to pace again. “This isn’t the time to fool around, boy. I heard you’re seeing some Brit.”

His eyes narrowed, and he treaded cautiously. “Who told you that?”

His mother sighed. “Don’t blame Quinn. Your father dragged it out of him.”

“
A Brit
,” his dad exclaimed. “Why couldn’t you date some nice Southern girl? Like Meredith. I love that girl.”

“Hiram, I’m hungry.” Laura stood. “Maybe you can take me to tea.”

“Do they serve steak at tea?” But he escorted her to the door, because he always gave his wife whatever her whim.

At the door, his mom turned and winked at Jack. “I’m looking forward to meeting this girl, Jackson.”

“Great,” he muttered under his breath.

Chapter Eighteen

Water dripped down her neck from her wet hair but Portia ignored it, focused on unlocking the front door to the South Street house without alerting the whole household.

The lock clicked open. Turning around, she waved to Jackson, who’d insisted on driving her home when she said she didn’t want to go to work in the same clothing as yesterday.

She needed to take a clean change of clothes with her. Not because she minded sneaking back home in the morning but because she’d much prefer the extra time with Jackson.

Thinking of him made her feel lit from within. When she was with him, she was unencumbered by her name, or her history, or anything else. In those moments, she realized that she was more like Catherine than she’d ever been.

Smiling happily, she closed the door softly behind her and turned around—

To find her mother descending the staircase.

Fabulous. She mentally groaned, conscious of her scraggly, wet hair and that she could still feel him inside her from the shower sex they’d had.

She felt like a naughty schoolgirl being caught after sneaking out to spend the night with a boy. Ridiculous, because she was an adult and could spend the night wherever she wanted. Catherine certainly wouldn’t have asked for permission. Portia put a hand over her pearls and lifted her chin. “Good morning, Mother. You’re up early.”

“As are you.” Jacqueline tipped her head, her eyes bright. “Are you coming in or going out? And why is your hair wet?”

“I just took a shower.”

“Hmm.” Her mother crossed the foyer and came to stand close to her. In her hand, she held that leatherbound journal she’d been carrying with her lately. Her gaze was steady as she studied her.

Portia shifted uncomfortably. How had she never realized how intense her mother’s hazel eyes were?

Her mother suddenly said, “You look happy, Portia.”

“I do?” She blinked. “I mean, yes, I guess I am.”

“Your work agrees with you, I think.” Jacqueline hugged the journal to her chest. “Martin Grey speaks highly of you.”

Her mother’s comment distracted her from wondering about the journal. “You spoke to Martin?”

“I ran into him. He couldn’t stop raving about you. You have a great ally in him, Portia.”

“I’m just working there to get the job at the museum. It’s a means to an end.”

“Or perhaps it could be a beginning. Life works mysteriously.” Her mother paused, and then she carefully said, “I hear you went away for Valentine’s Day.”

“You did?” She frowned. “Who told you?”

“I did, darling,” Gigi said as she swept down the stairs to join them on the landing. Her hair was in a casual twist, and she was dressed like she had either worked out or was going to work out.

“It wasn’t like that,” Portia protested.

Gigi raised her brow. “You went away, and it was Valentine’s Day.”

“I went away for business.”

“Monkey business,” Gigi said with a wink.

She was going to kill her sister. Shooting her a glare, Portia faced their mother. “I gave the new owner of Suncrest a tour of the property. It’s part of the terms for earning the Summerhill tiara.”

“Is it?” Her mother didn’t sound convinced.

Because she wasn’t ready to discuss Jackson with her mother—just thinking about what she’d been doing with him in the shower half an hour before made her blush—she decided to turn the tables. Crossing her arms, she said, “You look happier, too, Mother.”

Jacqueline blinked. “Do I?”

She nodded, determined. “Is it because of Franny?”

Imogen groaned and covered her face with her hand. Then she shook her head and continued down the hall. “This is my cue to leave. Good luck, Mother.”

“Good luck?” Her mother’s brow furrowed as she watched her second youngest daughter walk away. She returned her attention to Portia. “What’s this about Franny? She’s certainly been a godsend—always, but especially the past few weeks.”

“Are you and she—” Portia waved her hand.

“Are she and I what?” Comprehension dawned on her face, and her cheeks went crimson. “Good Lord, no! Portia, really. I love Franny like a sister; she’s part of the family, and that’s all.” She clutched her book, looking dazed. “What on earth gave you
that
idea?”

She shrugged, feeling silly. “You’re just always with her.”

“She’s my only true friend,” her mother said softly. Then she lifted her head, a bitter smile on her lips. “I was never unfaithful to your father, even if he was from almost the beginning. I tried once, but in the end I couldn’t betray my vows even if they meant nothing to Reginald.”

Now she felt awful. She wanted to reach out and give her mother a hug, but they didn’t do that.

Instead she stepped back and retreated into familiar stiffness. “I understand, Mother. I’m sorry I brought it up. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

She hurried up the stairs, but halfway up, she glanced over her shoulder.

Her mother watched her, sadness etched in every line of her face.

Portia slowed, gripping the banister, knowing that sorrow was her fault. She should go back and say something.

But in that moment of hesitation, Jacqueline turned and disappeared down the hall, her heels sounding without their usual alacrity.

She opened her mouth to call her mother back, but no sound came out. Head lowered, she retreated to her room, feeling like she’d lost a valuable opportunity, only she didn’t know for what.

Chapter Nineteen

Over the next couple days, Meredith kept hearing Portia’s sister in her head.
In your heart, you’ll know. There won’t be any questions.

She wasn’t sure what she felt in her heart. Her heart had always felt blank before, and now it was just confused.

However, her body
definitely
knew what it was feeling: crazy fireworks. Quinn had made a point to call her every night, no matter how briefly. Each time, the sound of his voice whispering in her ear made her shiver with need, a feeling so foreign that she didn’t know how to react.

Each conversation had become more and more intimate. Until last night—

She blushed, thinking about the things he’d said to her. In the dark, they’d seemed risqué enough. In daylight, she couldn’t even think them without turning beet red.

Her phone rang. Figuring it was her assistant, she picked it up on a sigh. “Hello?”

“Meredith,” Quinn said simply, his voice dusky and intimate.

She sat up straight, alert. “Are you back?”

“That’s why I’m calling. I need to stay a couple more days.”

The disappointment was so immediate and encompassing that her chest hurt. She rubbed the spot below her collarbone, trying to ease it. “I hope it’s not too much of a mess down there.”

He exhaled, and she could picture him removing his glasses and massaging the bridge of his nose, the way he did sometimes when he was tired. “The issue they were having with the plumbing is sorted out, but I need to stay to make sure it’s fixed on schedule. But that’s not why I called.”

She swallowed the hope that rose. “Oh?”

“Are you in your office?”