Love Is the Drug (9 page)

But, good Lord, it was
Jason
she’d said
no
to! Had she lost her mind? Because he was right, it would have been fun. And dangerous. Wild. And hot. Very, very hot. God, she really wanted him.

But he’d just break her heart and move on to his next willing victim—and no doubt, sooner than she expected. Plus, no matter what he thought, it
would
ruin the partnership after that. At least it would for her.

He glanced up and she started.
Ding-dangit!
She dropped her eyes to the colander and grabbed a potato.
He’d caught her looking at him again.

“Hey,” he said.

Julie heard the slight screech of his wooden chair scooting an inch or two across the linoleum and looked up.

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back, raising the front legs of the chair off the ground. “I know that us becoming lovers is a no-go, but do you mind telling me, now that you’ve calmed down a little, why you got so offended by the idea?”

Julie wiped her hands on the dish towel. She felt her face heat, and couldn’t bring herself to look at him while she explained. “That type of relationship was a common occurrence with my sister. I knew Connie was looking for a man that would love her, but she gave herself too easily, and ended up, always, with nothing.” She shrugged and twisted the loose thread around her forefinger that hung from the edge of the towel. “I’m waiting for the right man. The man who’ll love me, make a commitment to me.”

“Whoa.”

She heard the distinct sound of chair legs hitting the ground. Startled, she lifted her gaze, but he was already up on his feet.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Her brows drew together. With a shrug, she said, “I don’t know. What do you think I’m saying?”

He stepped forward, placed his palms on top of the red countertop, and stared at her across the length of the island. “That you’re a virgin.”

His eyes were as round as the red potatoes in her colander. She swallowed a very untimely chuckle. “Yeah. So?”

“Damn.” Jason turned and walked a pace or two away. “No wonder I was getting such a déjà vu vibe from you.” He shook his head. “A virgin. Damn.”

She felt her face flame even more. He was acting as if she were some kind of freak. “Well, it’s better than being a male slut. How many little Jasons are there running around, anyway?”

He whipped his head around and then turned fully to face her again. She saw the tick in his jaw and knew she’d struck a chord. A flash of guilt went through her. “Now who’s being offensive?” he said. He strode back up to the island. “Look, Julie, I’m sorry. You just took me by surprise, is all. And, just so the facts are clear: I’ve been real selective, and very careful. There are no ‘little Jasons’ and there never will be. I’ve made damn sure of that.”

She took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. I’m sorry, too.” She picked up the knife and sliced the potato in half. “Go back to work—dinner’ll be ready in a couple of hours.”

There was a long pause. “Alright.”

She heard him shuffle over to the table and settle back into work. Instead of easing her mind, their conversation had confused her even more. What had he meant when he’d said there would never be any ‘little Jasons’—he didn’t
ever
want to be a father? That was so hard for her to believe. How could someone with such a wonderful man like Gabe Jörgensen for a dad ever not want to be one himself? But, she supposed, it was a very good thing that he was being so cautious about it now, before he’d settled down. At least there wouldn’t be quite as sordid a past for a new wife to deal with.

* * *

Jason was finding it very hard to concentrate. Oh, he moved the drafting pencil along the edge of the ruler every once in a while, drew line after line, wrote a few notes, but they weren’t on the design for the lodge. Nope, they were just on a scratch piece of paper. Luckily, Julie was so absorbed in her cooking that she hadn’t noticed. God! A
virgin

Connie’s little sister was a virgin. He still couldn’t wrap his brain around that one. Was she lying to him? Without lifting his head, he peeked up at her. The last half-hour he’d been going over all that she’d told him, the funny ways she reacted to him—everything—since he’d first seen her at the auction last Saturday.

No, she was telling him the truth. And the increased déjà vu of the whole thing was making him want her even more. Which was a real problem, because he liked her. And he knew himself well enough to realize that he’d just end up hurting her—he might even break the poor girl’s heart—if he indulged his baser instincts, as was his normal way. Nope, it looked like his only choice, at least until she was out of his constant line of vision so he wouldn’t be comparing other women to her, was for him to get himself on a real strict, real painful, real physical, workout routine.

Twice, maybe three times a day ought to do it.

* * *

The following Tuesday, Jason was seated at his regular place at Julie’s table tweaking the design for the lodge, the outbuildings, and the rental cabins. He’d finished going over the specs with her that Mike had dropped off yesterday on the refurbishment and conversion of the house her father had planned to make into a restaurant, and work would start on that next week. On Thursday, he’d be going to Houston to show the lodge designs to his dad and Julie had agreed to go with him.

He had to admit, though, his feelings on that were a little mixed, what with how hard he’d been working to keep his hands off her these past few days since learning the status of that gorgeous tail of hers.

But his dad would be ticked if he didn’t bring her to see him, like he’d been promising every time they spoke the past week and a half.

He lifted his eyes and let them do a slow glide down her back and over her sweetly rounded tush.

But he had to admit, though, he wouldn’t mind seeing her in some tight-fitting black leather, either. Like a bustier and a pair of short-shorts that laced up the sides. The kind that show more skin than they cover.
Oh, yeah.
He could definitely get into that. And some super spike-heeled latex boots as well. Up to the thighs. Then he could really enjoy the view when she bent over to check what was cookin’ in the oven.

His jockeys were now a little too binding for comfort. He resettled in his chair and shook his head to clear the sex fog from his brain.

Shit!
He’d just drawn a distinctly feminine ass on the final version of his lodge design.

In ink.

Okay. He could fix this. He continued the curves around until they met, making a somewhat flawed, but acceptable, cloud-like shape. Fine. He’d plant a tree there. A cypress. He was sure the ducks would appreciate a little shade in their pond in the summer.

He just hoped his dad wouldn’t question him too closely about this.

A few minutes later, he started jotting down some last minute notes to go over with his dad. “Hey, Julie. Got another pen? Mine’s out of ink.”

She looked up from lifting the colander filled with steaming pasta out of the sink. “Yeah. In the roll-top desk. I’ll get it.” But when she turned to place the colander on the island, Pookie wrapped herself around her ankle and she stumbled forward.
“Eeek!”
In the next instant, both Julie and the pasta went flying.

“Careful!”
Jason bolted from his chair, nearly tipping the table over in the process. Luckily, he caught her before she tumbled to the ground.

“Thanks,” she said a little breathlessly before turning her sights on the cat. “Pookie!” she chided, moving out of Jason’s embrace and pulling pasta from her shirt front. “Look what you’ve done!” But the kitten only purred louder and rubbed herself against both of their ankles. “Oh, Lord. There went our lunch.” Her shoulders slumped as she looked around. “What a mess!”

“Look,” Jason said, “I’ll help you clean it up, but first I need to finish jotting down the last couple of notes I have for my dad—the pen?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, still looking a bit stunned and disheartened as she gazed at the vermicelli that hung from the side of the island, over the edge of the countertop, and snaked, like the Rio Grande River across the linoleum floor.

“In the roll-top desk, right?” he asked. “I’ll get it. Why don’t you just sit down for a minute and relax, okay?”

“Okay.”

When she continued to stand there staring at the wreckage, he shook his head and walked into the living room.

Julie had placed a few family photographs on the mantle, which he hadn’t seen before, so he took a minute or two to look them over. One was of a couple on their wedding day—clearly from sometime in the late-seventies or early-eighties, from the look of the clothes and hair. Must be Julie’s parents.

The groom had hair the color of Julie’s, the bride, a paler brown color. But the face—the face was all Julie. Julie had clearly gotten her features from her mother.

Which was a good thing. Because the guy had a pretty big honker going on. And he was wearing those large red glasses like some of those early MTV bands had worn.

Cute picture.

He set it back on top of the mantle and studied the one next to it. Actually, the small brown-wood frame held two school photographs: one of Julie when she was probably six or seven, and the other of Connie, made about the same time, he figured, since she looked to be about ten or eleven. She was so bright-eyed and innocent in the photograph. Nothing like the sexed-up, peroxided boy toy she’d turned into, that was for sure.

Connie must’ve been an amalgam of both parents—and maybe some other distant relatives, too—because he didn’t see as strong a resemblance between her and either one of her parents as he did between Julie and her mother.

After another second trying to wrap his brain around the disconnect between the kind-of awkward looking dark-haired little girl in the photo and the party-girl bleached-blonde celebrity he’d met five years ago, he strode over to the desk that sat in the far corner next to the picture window.

He opened a few drawers, but none of them had pens in them. In fact, there wasn’t much of anything in them. Then he pulled open the top. Not much here, either. Just the manila envelope from the auction, a couple of pens lying loose on top of the desk, and something from
Harmony Canyon Drug & Alcohol Treatment Center.

He’d already grabbed a pen and turned back toward the kitchen before the name registered. His heart tripped into a rapid beat as he whirled back around and reached for the envelope. It had an April postmark. Not very long ago. Damn.

Was Julie a recovering druggie, just like her sister?
Shit! He shouldn’t have talked her into drinking those beers the other night.
But how was he to know? She should have told him.

He made a decision then and, after glancing toward the empty doorway to the kitchen, he slid the pages from the envelope and unfolded them. He felt a little guilty, but protecting his and his dad’s interests was paramount.

His brows came together. It was a handwritten letter. Strange. He figured it’d be a bill when he saw Julie’s name and address typed on the front of the envelope. He flipped to the last page and looked at the signature line.
Connie.
Thank God. It was just a letter from her sister.

Had she given Julie any indication that she was going to commit suicide? Maybe Connie hadn’t planned that far ahead.

Poor Julie. For the first time, it really hit him how much she’d had to go through. And all on her own; just like his dad had been saying. He started to fold the letter back up, but then his eye caught on a particularly familiar set of words:
Jason Jörgensen
. He quickly scanned the pages. And with each new word he read, his anger, his sense of betrayal, his hatred grew.

Connie had set him up. She’d planned the whole thing. Just to get out of the contract with
Joyride.
So she could get some bit part in an Oliver Stone movie—which hadn’t even panned out.

* * *

“Please. Try to understand,” Julie said from the doorway of the kitchen.

Jason whipped his head up and looked at her. Even from as far away as he stood, she could read the venom on his face.

In the heartbeat of bitter silence that followed, she wrapped her arms tightly around herself.

“Understand?”
he said. And then he was in motion, storming toward her, waving the letter in his fisted hand with each step he took. “Oh, I understand. Perfectly.”

He was livid. Violently so. She could tell. He was shaking with it. Her heart, already hammering, tripped into a breakneck meter.

“You’re a liar.”

She felt each word as if they were knives thrust into her gut. Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m sor—”

“
I can’t believe it! Nora Lee had you pegged, I have to hand her that.” He thrust his fingers into his hair. “What a fucking fool I’ve been!” His laugh was sharp, derisive. “Again!” He turned around and stalked to the front door. “The partnership is over. Kaput.”

“No! Jason, please, I’m begging you. Listen. Let me explain!”

When he looked at her again, she cringed. Scorn. Loathing. Disgust. She saw them all in his darkened gaze. “You’re lucky I don’t sue you, you deceitful bitch.”