The Good Girl's Guide to Bad Men (6 page)

She shook her head. "No, no. It's not for my children. It's for my husband."

I cocked my head to the side and shot her a strange look. "You need a nanny for your husband?"

She nodded slowly and reluctantly, and I could see tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "Yes." She took a deep breath and cleared her throat. "I have reason to believe that he's slept with the past
three
nannies that I've hired. But I need to know for sure."

Slowly the cloud began to lift, and I suddenly understood what this woman was asking.

I leaned forward and picked up my legal pad again. "So you want us to send one of our associates," I confirmed with a tight nod of my head. "To pose as the new nanny."

She seemed relieved that I had caught on and she wouldn't have to actually explain what she had in mind. "Yes," she replied with a heavy sigh. "I figure the only way I can prove my suspicion is if the next nanny I invite to live in my home is there as a decoy."

When I arrived home later that night, Jamie was waiting for me in the living room. He was sitting on the sofa, his feet propped up on the coffee table, the TV playing softly in the background. The minute the door closed, he jumped off the couch and ran over to me, pulling me into an unusually long hug. "Hey! You're on time."

I laughed as I tossed my briefcase onto one of the dining room chairs. "Did you expect me to be late?"

He shrugged. "Kind of."

"Well, I'm happy I could disappoint you." I glanced over his shoulder at the flat-screen TV on the wall. A middle-aged bearded man was demonstrating how to hang a two-hundred-pound mirror with a paper-clip-size piece of metal.

"Are you watching infomercials?" I asked in disbelief.

He quickly grabbed the remote and zapped it off. "I wasn't really watching it. I was just kind of zoning out."

"So, how'd your conference call go this morning?" I asked from the hallway as I made my way into my bedroom. I pushed my feet out of my slingbacks and placed them in a cubbyhole in the back of my closet.

Jamie entered a few moments later and lay down on the bed, propping himself up against a stack of throw pillows. "Good. I'm pretty sure I convinced them to sign with us. It's a quarter-of-a-million-dollar gig, so the senior partners are gonna be pretty psyched."

"That's fantastic!" I called from the closet, trying to sound bubbly. But honestly, it didn't really work on me.

Which was why Jamie laughed in response. "So, how was work for you?"

I shrugged. "Work was work." I pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it into the clothes hamper. "I got the strangest request for an assignment today, though."

"Oh yeah?"

I stepped out of the closet and leaned against the doorway. "Some woman wants one of the associates to pose as a nanny in her house."

Jamie let out a laugh. "You mean like a live-in nanny?"

"Yeah. She thinks her husband has been sleeping with the nannies."

"Nann
ies
plural?"

"Hollywood Hills family. Husband is some big-time studio exec. Apparently, they've been through three in the last six months."

"Well, I guess it makes sense, then," Jamie mused. "Are you taking the assignment?"

"Yeah," I called as I walked back into my closet and sifted through hangers of clothes. I picked up a cassis-colored Diane von Fürstenberg dress and held it up against my body. "I just have to figure out who would be the best person to handle a job like that."

There was suddenly a long, awkward pause on the other side of my closet door, and then Jamie said, "What about you?"

I dropped the dress hanger down against my waist and glanced strangely toward the door. "What did you say?" I asked, popping my head out.

But he wouldn't look back at me. He kind of just stared straight ahead, and when I followed his gaze, there was nothing there except an old framed oil painting of Paris in the 1920s that he'd seen a million times. "I'm just saying," he replied, his tone bordering on chilly. "It's a highly unusual job. Nothing like the agency has ever seen before. And maybe it should be handled by a professional."

I stepped back into the bedroom and shot Jamie an offended look. "But my associates
are
professionals."

He tucked his hands behind his head. "But none of them have been doing this as long as you."

I wasn't exactly sure where he was going with this, but I didn't like the direction regardless. I sat on the bed, gripping the padded hanger in my hands. "But I
don't
do it anymore. You know that. I haven't done it for a year."

Jamie continued to avoid my stare. I finally got fed up and reached out to grab his chin and turn it toward me. "Hey," I said adamantly. "What's the matter?"

He shrugged evasively again. "Nothing. I'm just saying that if there were ever a time for you to come out of 'retirement,' I would think an assignment like this would be tempting."

I stammered, feeling helpless and insulted at the same time. Jamie had never acted this way before. He'd always said he was fine with my desk job. And his actions never suggested otherwise. But for some reason,
this
particular assignment was getting to him, and I wasn't sure why.

"Are you saying you
want
me to move into some stranger's house, pretend to be their nanny for three weeks to see if some horny, middle-aged man who can't keep his hands to himself tries to get it on with me? Is that what you want?"

"Is that what
you
want?" he shot back immediately, and I cowered slightly. His reaction surprised me. Not just the swiftness of it, but the traces of hostility that were lingering in its tracks.

"No!" I shouted as I shot up from the bed. "What are you talking about? Why would you even think that? I have
no
desire to get back into that side of this business."

Jamie looked up at me intensely. This time his gaze was penetrating, and I suddenly wished he'd go back to staring at the wall. "Even after what happened this morning?" he challenged.

I felt my fingers twitching against the hanger in my hands as I swallowed hard. "What about this morning?" I knew exactly what he was getting at, but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of confirming it. If he really wanted to go down this road, he would have to be the one to lead the way.

"That's six courtroom losses in a row," he pointed out, as if he were simply stating the score of a hockey game he cared nothing about.

"So?"

"So,"
he echoed, "I just thought maybe you'd be feeling a little . . . I don't know, helpless. Unfilled. Empty."

"Empty," I repeated, as if I were hearing the word for the first time, wondering what kind of meaning Jamie was attempting to infuse it with.

"Yeah," he insisted. "I mean, you spend two years fulfilling this crazy quest of yours. You know, to expose cheaters, find the truth, enlighten people. And then suddenly you have to take a backseat and watch other people do it. Sure, at first it's fine. You feel like you're still an active part of the process. But then a year goes by, you start looking for other ways to get
involved,
and they don't pan out. So where does that leave you? And how are you going to remedy it?"

I was speechless. His words struck an unnerving chord inside me. Not necessarily because they were right on target, but because they weren't entirely
off
target. Regardless, I wasn't about to move into some stranger's house and take care of her kids as I waited for her husband to try to sleep with me. And Jamie had to understand that. Or if he didn't, I had to
make
him.

I took a deep breath and reached out to grab his hand. "Jamie," I said softly, "that part of my life is
over.
Yes, I may have felt a little down because of the expert witness thing. But that doesn't mean I'm itching to go back to almost sleeping with married men. I made a promise to you, and I'm going to keep it." I paused and decided to rephrase. "I
want
to keep it. That's why I hired five very capable associates to replace me."

His eyes flickered up at me and held my gaze. "But what if the client doesn't want one of your associates? What if the client wants
you?"

I stared at him, somewhat stunned. "I would say no."

His eyebrows rose. "Really?"

"Really," I assured him in a calculated whisper.

Jamie's face was very stern. I had never seen him look so serious before. And then, as if someone had flicked a switch inside him, it suddenly just softened. The intensity in his eyes faded away, his tightly pressed lips parted slightly, and all the muscles in his face relaxed. Then he nodded as a soft smile broke through. "Okay," he whispered back. "I'm sorry. I guess sometimes I just need to make sure that it's what you really want. That I'm not holding you back."

I wanted to laugh. "Holding me back?" I sputtered. "Are you kidding? If it weren't for you, I'd probably be in some seedy hotel bar in Milwaukee or something right now. Trust me, baby, you have only pushed me
forward.
"

This response seemed to please him immensely, and his small smile grew into a dopey grin. "I'm happy to hear you say that."

I leaned forward and kissed him deeply, trying to extract any remaining shred of doubt from his body with the power of my lips.

"Now," I said, a clear change of focus in my voice, "where are we going tonight?"

But he just smiled and shook his head smugly. "Still not telling."

I threw my free hand up in the air. "Well, how am I supposed to decide what to wear?" I held up the Diane von Fürstenberg dress in front of me. "How about this?"

He promptly vetoed it. "
Way
too formal."

I turned the hanger around and gazed longingly at my new dress. "It's not
that
formal. It's supposed to be a casual dress."

"Just wear something comfortable."

"Fine," I muttered as I disappeared back into the closet.

"And Jen?" Jamie's voice followed behind me a few seconds later.

I popped my head back out. "Yeah?"

"What do you think about giving up the expert witness gig for a while?" The question was serious, but his voice danced so playfully along the words, it almost sounded like a joke.

Either way, I knew what my answer had to be. "I think it's a very good idea."

Thirty minutes later, Jamie had already vetoed four different outfits, claiming that each was "not comfortable enough," until I felt like asking if I should just wear a pair of sweatpants and an oatmeal peel-off face mask. He had finally approved a pair of low-rise khaki pants and a black fitted V-necked sweater, and we headed to the garage, where Jamie's car was parked in the space next to mine. I had tied my hair into a tight ponytail so that he could put the top down. Jamie had bought his convertible Jaguar before we met, and I constantly teased him about owning a car so prestigious that it had its own special pronunciation guide:
Jag-yoo-ar.
But then I guess I wasn't one to talk. I drove a Lexus. But at least it was a hybrid. And at least the commercials didn't call it a
Lex-you-us.

"Okay," I said as soon as we were out of the garage and the top was down. "Now are you going to tell me where we're going?"

Jamie laughed and shook his head as he flipped on his left turn signal and turned onto Wilshire Boulevard. "What's the matter? Your magic men-reading superpower not able to penetrate the wall of steel I've put up in my brain?"

"Ha," I replied sarcastically, wishing I had never divulged that particular secret to him. One year later and he still gives me shit about it.

But as it turned out, the two men who seemed to be completely immune to my keen men-reading abilities were Jamie . . . and my father. Ironically, the only two men in the world I would give anything to read.

Like right now, for instance.

"Very funny," I quipped. "It just so happens my abilities don't work in the car. Something about the asphalt on the road. I don't really want to bore you with the science of it all. It's quite complicated."

Jamie flashed me that award-winning smirk of his. "I see."

But as he skillfully navigated the streets of West L.A., I was trying desperately to narrow down our destination. With every turn he took, my mind was systematically eliminating possible locations. For instance, as soon as he passed Barrington Avenue, I knew that we weren't going to our favorite sushi restaurant. And the minute he turned right onto Sepulveda, I knew that it couldn't possibly be our favorite jazz club in West Hollywood. And when he finally turned left onto Pico, I was thoroughly confused. My only thought was that he was taking some mysterious alternate route to throw me off my keen sense of direction.

It wasn't until we reached the intersection of Pico and Overland that it dawned on me where he was heading. And once I figured it out, my mouth crept into a knowing smile and I looked over at him in amazement.

"No . . ." I shook my head in disbelief. "You are not seriously taking me there
again."

He grinned. "Ah, so you've finally figured it out," he remarked as he pressed down on the accelerator and sped out of the intersection.

"Yes," I said, watching the familiar landmarks pass by. "But I'm just not sure
why
we're going there."

Jamie slowed the car and turned left into a parking lot. It was a parking lot I hadn't stepped foot in for over a year. And not because of bad memories associated with it. This parking lot actually held some of the best memories of my life.

It was where Jamie had first kissed me.

And directly adjacent to it was the golf course where we'd had our very first date. The fact that he had taken me to a golf course for a first date had actually surprised me. It was different and fun and even the slightest bit bold. I believe the original rationale behind the location selection was the idea that he'd be able to impress me with his golf skills. But that's not exactly how the story ended up going.

It wasn't like any date I had ever been on. Although that's not saying a great deal since I hadn't really dated much in my adult life. Particularly not after starting my fidelity inspection business. But I couldn't imagine a date being any better.

I remember the conversation being so fluid and natural. As if we'd been having conversations together all of our lives. Granted, I had made a living out of making sure that conversations flowed smoothly, but with Jamie, there was no effort necessary. I didn't even have to try. It just flowed.

I remember the dinner he bought me: hot dogs and Cokes at the golf course snack stand. Ironically, it was one of the best meals I'd had in a long time. And then he kissed me—right here in this parking lot—and every nerve ending in my body simply exploded. Of course, I hadn't seen it at the time, but it was pretty obvious looking back now that the night was going to change my life.

And it certainly did.

"We're
here,
" Jamie explained as he steered the car into a parking spot and pulled up on the emergency brake, "because we haven't been here since the night of our first date."