Lovers and Strangers (23 page)

"I'm headed that way myself," Jack said. "I'll walk you there."

He hadn't planned to head on over to Flynn's so soon—Faith didn't get off work for an hour or so—but it suddenly seemed like a good idea. Better than the original one he'd made to take her back to his place and give her the script to read. They'd have been necking before they got there, in bed before he'd worked up the guts to show the script to her. This way would be easier for both of them. Cleaner. More permanent. And with no chance of a reconciliation.

There was a slim chance Faith might forgive him the script, knowing the situation between him and his brother. But he didn't think she'd forgive him another woman after the night they'd shared.

Jack reached out to open the front door of Flynn's and put his other hand on the small of Jill's back, ushering her in ahead of him. The place was quiet and fairly empty this close to closing time. A handful of customers sat at the long wooden bar, watching CNN Headline News on the small color television. A few couples were seated at the tables. A lone man sat nursing a beer at the back booth. Sammie-Jo Sheppard was standing at the cocktail waitresses' station, shooting the breeze with Tim and a couple of the customers. Faith was nowhere to be seen.

She must be in the kitchen, Jack thought, and wondered if he had time to turn around and forget the whole thing.

Then Jill started toward the friendly faces at the bar, and Jack reached out and put a hand on her arm, stopping her. "Let's grab a booth," he said, steering her in that direction.

Jill turned her head, glancing curiously at him over her shoulder, but followed him anyway. "Something you want to talk about privately?" she asked as she slid into the booth.

"Nothing in particular." He tossed the envelope down on the table and folded himself into the bench seat opposite her. "How've you been, Jill?" he asked, giving her his most charming smile.

Jill tilted her head, giving him a considering look from under her thick fringe of streaked blond bangs. "Why?"

Jack shrugged, trying to look innocent. "Do I have to have a reason?"

Jill studied him a moment before answering. "Yes." She nodded, as if to herself. "Yes, I think you do."

"What if I said I'd missed you?"

"And have you?"

"Yeah, I have," he said, reaching across the table to take her hand in his. "I've missed you a lot. More than I—" He broke off, looking up as if he'd just that second seen the cocktail waitress approaching their table. "Hi, Angel," he said carelessly, clamping down on Jill's hand to keep her from drawing it out of his. "You know Jill Mickelson, don't you? From 2-B."

"We've met," Jill said, nodding a greeting at Faith before she could answer. "How are you?"

"Fine, thank you," Faith said, looking carefully back and forth between the two of them. "What can I get you to drink?"

"Jill will have a Brandy Alexander. You can bring me my usual Corona."

Without another word, Faith nodded and left the table.

Jill yanked her hand out of Jack's, winning her release only because he let her go. "Just what the hell was that all about?" she demanded.

Jack shrugged. "Just making a few things clear, is all."

Jill looked toward the bar, and the stiff back of the young cocktail waitress walking toward it with their order. She brought her gaze back to his. "I don't like to be used, Jack," she warned him.

"Not even for a good cause?"

She shook her head. "I didn't think you were that kind of man," she said sadly.

"What kind of man is that?"

"The kind who plays fast and loose with a woman's heart just so he can get her into bed," she said. "A cad. A bounder. A bum. Should I go on?"

He lifted an eyebrow at her, apparently unmoved by the scorn in her words. "I think I get the general idea."

"I'm sure you do," she snapped, and started to scoot across the booth. "You'll forgive me if I don't stick around for the rest of your brush-off performance."

"Dammit, Jill, wait." He reached out, as if to grab her and pull her back, then dropped his hand on the table between them. "Please, wait," he said.

She stopped and looked at him, startled by the odd note in his voice. She hesitated, her gaze darting to the man opposite her and then to the young woman he couldn't seem to take his eyes off of. She was coming back toward the table, their drinks on a tray, her young face set and serious.

"Wait," he said again, and the word was an out-and-out plea.

Jill dropped back into her seat but keep her hands together in her lap to keep him from holding them, watching as the scene played itself out.

Nothing untoward was said, no harsh or biting words were exchanged. It was all very orderly on the surface. Faith set their drinks down in front of them and asked if they'd like anything else. Jack said no and handed her a couple of bills, telling her to keep the change. And she smiled politely, invited them to enjoy their drinks and walked away. All very calm and orderly. On the surface. Underneath, hearts were breaking into tiny shattered pieces. Jill wondered why the sound wasn't echoing through the room.

"You're in love with her," she said when Faith had gone back to the bar. It wasn't a question. "You're down-on-your-knees, white-picket-fence in love with her."

"So?" Jack said, and picked up his beer.

"So?" Jill shook her head. "So she's in love with you, too. Or haven't you noticed that fact?"

"She only thinks she is."

"She only thinks she is? Is that what you said? She only
thinks
she is?" Jill turned her gaze skyward for a moment. "God save me from the pigheaded arrogance of men," she intoned, and returned her gaze to Jack's face. "You listen to me, Jack Shannon. Thinking has nothing to do with the way that girl feels about you, believe me. Nothing at all. Her whole heart and soul was in that look she gave you, not her brains."

"Well, then, they should have been, dammit!" he bit out, furious with the world. With life. With himself. "They damn well should have been. If she'd used her head and stayed away from me like I told her to, neither one of us would be in this mess."

"You told her to stay away from you? Why?"

"Why the hell do you think? You're a grown woman, for God's sake. Look at her. And then look at me."

Jill did as he ordered.

"And what do you see?" Jack demanded.

"Well, you look like hell, for one thing." A particularly attractive, sexy sort of hell, but she didn't tell him that. "And she looks miserable."

"She's a child, a little girl playing at being a grownup. She'll get over it."

Jill shook her head. "God, men are such fools," she said. "And the best men are the biggest fools." She slid out of the booth and stood up. "I like you, Jack, and that's why I can't sit here and participate in this idiocy with you for another minute. You want to ruin your life—and hers, too, while you're at it—then you're on your own. Thanks for the drink," she said, and turned on her heel, leaving the Brandy Alexander completely untouched.

Afraid Faith might approach him if he was alone, afraid he would break down and beg her forgiveness if she did, Jack slugged back his beer and got up, following Jill out of the bar.

* * *

"I'm going to rip his heart out," Sammie-Jo threatened through clenched teeth. "I'm going to shove my fist down his lying mouth and rip his no-good, double-dealing black heart out by its evil roots."

Faith couldn't help but smile at her friend's ferocity, even as she fought to hold back the tears stinging at her eyes. "It's all right, Sammie-Jo. I know what he's doing."

"He's acting like a jerk, is what he's doing. A stupid, insensitive, unfeeling, two-timing, rat-faced jerk. God, to bring Jill in here like that, when he knew you were working. When he'd already made a date to meet you when you got off. Why would he act that way?" She looked at Tim, busy counting up the night's receipts behind the bar. "Why would a man be so deliberately cruel?" she demanded to know.

"He doesn't think he's good enough for me," Faith said before Tim could form an answer.

"Well, he's right about that. He isn't half-good enough for you. He keeps you out until all hours of the night, bringing you back at nearly four in the morning, with a hickey on your neck and your eyes all heavy looking, and so damn happy you can't even see straight. And then he waltzes in here with another woman, just like the last two days never happened. And you don't even get
mad."
She looked over at Tim. "Do you think she might be in shock?"

"I'm not in shock," Faith said, answering for Tim again. "I'm upset and a little hurt but I'm nowhere near ready to fall over about it. I told you, I understand what he's trying to do."

"Well, that's more than I understand, that's for sure, but if I were you—Faith, honey, you put that towel down and forget about cleaning up. I'll clean up tonight. You just sit down and relax for a few minutes, let Tim pour you a nice Baileys. Tim, pour Faith a Baileys. A double," she ordered. "She's going to sit here at the bar and drink it while I finish wiping off the tables."

"No, Tim," Faith said, forestalling him. "I don't want a Baileys. And I don't want to sit down and relax," she said to Sammie-Jo. "I need to think. And I think best when I'm working. I'm
fine,
really," she said when Sammie-Jo stood there, looking at her as if she expected Faith to fall to pieces at any minute. "Now, stop fussing and let me finish my shift so we can go home."

"If you're sure you're all right?"

"I just said so, didn't I?" Faith said, letting her exasperation show.

"Okay." Sammie-Jo waved a hand toward the waiting tables. "Have at it."

And Faith did, with a vengeance. Why did everybody expect her to crumble at the first sign of trouble? When had she ever? Never, that's when! She slapped her damp bar towel down on a table, making a most satisfying smacking sound. Just because she looked like a naive little school girl didn't mean she was one. And she wished people would stop treating her that way. One person in particular.

If he thought he could make her stop loving him with some stupid sophomoric stunt like the one he'd pulled tonight, he had another think coming. Would he stop loving her if she let some other man hold her hand?
No,
she thought, then
hell, no!
she added, just for good measure. If she let some other man hold her hand, Jack would very likely break all of his fingers for him.

Not that Faith wanted to break Jill's fingers. Any fool could tell that Jill had been an unwitting pawn in Jack's little scheme—and that she'd been mad as fire when she realized it. No, it wasn't Jill's fingers she wanted to break. It was Jack's rock hard head. Maybe
that
would knock some sense into him, she thought, smacking the bar towel down again.

She cleaned three tables before she moved on to the booths along the wall and saw the envelope Jack had left there. She dropped the towel down on the table and picked up the envelope. The metal clasp was fastened but it wasn't sealed shut.

Faith bit her lip. It wasn't any of her business, of course, and it wasn't ethical to snoop but... she had to find out who it belonged to, didn't she? She sat down, perching herself on the very edge of the booth, opened the metal clasp and slowly drew the contents out.

It was a script. Two scripts. No, two copies of the same script.
Lovers and Strangers
by Eric and Jack Shannon. Why had he made copies of it? And then she noticed that there was no date on either copy, no address and phone number in the lower right-hand corner. Just the title and, under it, the two names. She flipped one of them open.

"Faith, honey—"

Faith nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Sammie-Jo's voice.

"—what have you got there?"

She shoved both copies back in the envelope. "It's Jack's," she said. "A script."

"A script?"

"For a movie," she said, and made a quick decision. "He wanted me to read it and give him my opinion."

Chapter 12

She was crying when she finished reading it. Great, gulping sobs wrenched up from deep inside of her.

"My, God, Faith, honey, what's the matter?" Sammie-Jo demanded, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she came out of the bedroom. "What did he do?" She sat down on the arm of the chair and put her arm around Faith's heaving shoulders. "Honey, what is it? What's the matter?"