Love Is the Drug (10 page)

“Jason,”—Julie ran toward him—“I didn’t keep this from you to hurt you! I was only trying to protect my sister!”

“Your sister’s dead.”

Her legs nearly collapsed beneath her. She nodded. Using the bottom of her tank top to scrub at her wet cheeks, she said thickly, “I know. I know.” And then, it all just backed up on her, and she started crying again. She pressed the base of her palms to her eyes. “I know.” After a second, she dropped her hands and looked at him full-on. “I didn’t want Connie to be remembered that way. Killing herself was bad enough without this to add to it. She would be forever vilified.”

He gave a derisive snort. “As she should be. Do you know the damage that lie of hers caused me? My family? Because of her, my father lost his business, he had a heart attack, and
we both found out that I’m NOT HIS REAL SON!
”

Julie started. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. No way would she prod the raging bull with questions about
that.
Better to focus on calming him down—and getting her letter back. After a second, she blinked. “I’m—I’m sorry, Jason. Truly. I am.” She pointed to the pages he held. “And so was my sister. If you read the whole letter, you know that.”

“Yes, and I also know that
she did nothing to rectify it! NOTHING!”
He took in a deep breath and released it. “And neither have you.”

“But I would have! In two years. Just long enough for—”

“Two years!”

“—Yes. Just long enough for the stigma of her suicide to wane.”

“I’ve waited
five
already. That’s long enough.” He yanked open the door and stomped across the porch and down the steps.

Julie was right behind him.
“Jason—my letter!”
She tried grabbing for the thing, but he was too quick for her. “What are you planning to do?”

“Sell it to the highest bidder, of course.”

“No!” It was a whisper, a plea, but he just shook his head at her and kept moving toward his car. She stopped in her tracks then. Stopped following him. Stopped speaking. Just stared, frozen in place as he leapt into his Vette, gunned the engine, and drove away.

* * *

An hour later, Julie knocked on Jason’s door. When there wasn’t an answer after a minute, she knocked again, this time louder.
Come on, Jason! Open the door.
The sound of pounding feet came from behind her and she turned. In milliseconds, her brain registered the following: He’d been jogging. He was hot, sweaty, and gorgeously well-built. His tanned, muscular legs, chest and arms glowed with the sheen of his recent exertion and blades of damp blond hair stuck to his flushed forehead.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he said, and then he shoved past her, unlocked the door and opened it. He was just about to slam it behind him when she catapulted through the opening. “Jason, hear me ou—”

“Get out. I’ve heard enough. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer tomorrow.”

“L-Lawyer?” It felt like she’d formed the word around a gobstopper. Her ears started ringing.

He turned away from her and walked down the short hallway to the bathroom. “Yes. I’m dissolving the partnership, remember?”

She took a deep breath. “Oh.”

Just before he closed the door, he said, “Don’t be here when I come back out.”

In another minute, she heard the shower running.

Of course, she ignored him. She had no choice. She had to get that letter back. And now that he was otherwise occupied, maybe she should take matters into her own hands. Yeah. Then, as she'd already planned, she'd offer him her land instead. It was the least she could do, after finding out the extent of long-lasting damage her sister’s selfish lie had wreaked on Jason and his father. She looked around her. The living room, where she now stood, was tidy. No cabinets, no drawers, just two end tables, a coffee table, the couch, two chairs and a television. No papers or envelopes lying about. Not here then. Maybe it was in his bedroom.

She double-timed it down the hall. The door to the room was open and there was a stack of loose papers on top of the bureau. Feeling like a thief, but determined to get this done, she shuffled through them. When she didn’t find it there, she opened and searched every drawer.

Nothing.

She kept one ear trained on the sound of the shower as she dropped her hands to her hips and quickly scanned the room. Where else might he have put it?

Maybe his briefcase.

But where was it?

She darted to the bed and looked beside it, under it, even looked under the pillows.

No go.

She looked around again, chewing on her lower lip.

The closet.

She jogged over to its accordion door and quietly pulled it open. She was almost finished searching the clothing pockets when she heard the shower shut off.
Doggone it!
Where the heck was it?

She darted out of the bedroom and leaned against the wall next to the bathroom.

It wasn’t long after that the door swung open. Thankfully, Jason was wearing a towel around his waist. She’d been mildly worried that she’d be giving her speech to a naked Adonis.

She didn’t give him time to take a step before she said in a rush: “I’ll give you the land in exchange for my sister’s letter.”

He slowly brought the towel he’d been using to dry his hair away from his face. Okay, not Adonis, she thought, but Zeus, the God of Thunder.

“Forget it.” He strode into his bedroom.

She followed him.

“You don’t understand. I’ll
give
you the land—except for my house and a quarter-acre plot around it—and, in two years, I’ll still release my sister’s confession letter to the press. You’ll have it
all
then, see?”

He swung around. “No, not
everything
. Not by a long shot.”

Julie bit her lower lip. She clasped her hands in front of her and glanced down at them. Her heart was shattering and her insides wrenched, but she had to do this. She took in a deep breath and lifted her gaze to his once more. “Alright. The house, too. You can have my family’s house as well.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her with eyes as hard as blue agates. “Giving me your land may seem like a real big sacrifice to you, real painful and devastating, but it’s
nothing
compared to what happened to me.” He turned and walked over to his bureau. When he turned around again, a long, slender letter opener was in his hand. “You’re worse than your sister, you know that? A real viper.” As he leaned against the piece of furniture and stretched his legs out, crossing one foot over the other, he struck the long edge of the stainless tool against his palm. “You want the letter back? It’s gonna cost you a hell of a lot more than some piece of land. It’s gonna cost you your pride. It’s gonna cost you what your sister cost me: A dream. A future.

Julie took a step toward him. “Jas—”

“I want your cherry. Give it to me, and I’ll give you the letter.”

* * *

“Jason!”
Julie could only stand there, staring at him in shock and total disbelief. Surely she hadn’t heard him correctly.

The cell phone on top of his bureau started ringing. He glanced down. “That’s my friend at the Associated Press calling me back.” He looked up at her again. “Well? What’s it to be: your cherry or your sister’s written confession going out to every major news channel? You decide.”

Julie shook her head. She couldn’t seem to form words.

“Good choice.” He picked up the phone and punched the answer button. He was just swinging the phone up to his ear when she shot forward and grabbed it from his hand.

As she punched the disconnect button, she said. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

* * *

Jason gritted his teeth. He had no illusions that she’d actually go through with this—his eyes narrowed—if, that is, she really was the virgin she’d sworn to be. Maybe a little test was in order. “Take off your clothes.”

She started. “What?”

He didn’t answer her. Instead, he leaned to the side and pulled open a bureau drawer. He reached in and pulled out a condom. Cherry red.
Excellent.
Then he stood up and whipped the towel off. When he heard her gasp, he looked at her again. “You’re still dressed.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s it to be, Julie. You still have time to back out of this. Believe me, I’m more than happy to go the other way—give my friend the scoop.”

She shook her head. “No! I—I said I’d do it, and I will.” And then she started to lift her top but her hands stalled a quarter of the way up and resettled at the button on her cutoffs. She undid the fastening and dragged the zipper down. Then she pushed the shorts off her hips. They puddled at her feet and she stepped out of them.

She wore very serviceable pink cotton bikinis, but for some reason, and in spite of how much he hated her, he felt himself stir. “Nice panties—Dollar Store, right?” He looked around and his eye landed on the wing-back chair. Yeah. That’d scare the shit out of her.
If
she was as inexperienced as she’d said. He strode over to it and plopped down, keeping his knees spread so she’d get the full view. “Ever seen one of these up close, Julie?” He grabbed his cock and
1
stroked it a few times before tearing the package open with his teeth and sliding the condom over his erection.

Her eyes widened as she watched him and her face turned redder than the prophylactic.

Okay. She hadn’t lied. His heart was pounding hard inside his chest now and, even though he tried to control it, his breathing was rapid and heavy. This was not about sex, he reminded himself. This was about justice. “Clothes off, Julie. Now. All the way.”

She nodded. He could see her hands trembling as they reluctantly performed the task and he almost—
almost
—relented. But no. He’d be damned before he’d give in so easily. It should be her that cried uncle first. And then he could release the letter. But when she dropped the tank top she’d been holding up to hide her breasts—stood before him without a stitch on—his libido kicked the shit out of his sense of justice.

He heard her clear her throat. “Where do you want me?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

“Ove—
ahem—
over here,” he said, straightening a little.

She moved toward him. When she was only a pace away, she said, “What now?”

“I’m sure you can figure out the rest.”

For the longest time she just stood there, her misty calf-eyed gaze never wavering from his, as if she was playing some mental game of chicken with him. Finally, she dropped her eyes to somewhere in the vicinity of his right thigh. She moved closer. Positioned her knees on either side of his hips and braced her palms on the arms of the chair.

“Please,” she whispered.

He heard the fear in her voice, saw it reflected in her eyes. “Julie, you don’t have to do this. You have another option. Take it.”

She shook her head. And then she took hold of him.

His muscles jerked. “Julie!”

She pressed down. Her face crumpled up and he heard a pained whimper. “I can’t get it in! Help me,” she said. Her thighs, her breasts—all of her—shook.

1“
Enough!” he said. “Stop.”

But she tried it again, this time with a bit more success.

He closed his eyes. Tight. A strained moan exploded from his throat. And then he felt a hot tear fall on his chest. He opened his eyes and looked at her. “Stop,” he told her again. She was terrified—which bothered him more than he’d expected. And it was hurting her more than he’d thought it would, too. He thrust his hands through her hair and forced her head back. “It’s over. No more.”

She shook her head. “I want that letter.” She pressed down harder, then gasped and went rigid.

“You have to stop. Don’t you see? You’re not ready.”

She shuddered “I just want to get this over with!”

He made a decision then. Wrapping his arms around her, he stood up.

“Wha—What’s happening? What are you doing?” she asked.

“Making the choice for you,” he told her and strode over to the bed. Her arms flew up to cover herself as he settled her on top of the mattress. She stared up at him, her wide brown eyes full of confusion, doubt, and a whole lot of worry. “But…,” she said, “my sister’s letter.” The desolation in her voice scraped across his conscience like sandpaper over an open wound.

He pressed his lips together as he lifted the side edge of the comforter up and covered her with it. Then he grabbed the envelope from the niche behind the bureau, sat down next to her, and tucked it into the palm of her hand. “Here. Take this back. I don’t want it anymore. We’re even, okay?”

She looked from the envelope back up to him. Her eyes were huge. Wet, but huge. He smiled and brushed the strands of hair off her cheek. “Okay?” he repeated.

There was a very long pause. And then she nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.

After a minute, he said, “Julie…uhmm…you know we didn’t actually
do
it, right? I mean, you’re still intact.”