The Set Up (14 page)

The salesclerk smiles at me. “We have both. Which would you prefer?”

I thump a hand on the counter. “A sweater would be great.”

“What size?”

I shrug and then glance over my shoulder. “See that woman sitting in the red leather armchair near the bar? It’s for her.”

Snapping a piece of gum, she says, “A small. I’ll grab one in black for you. It’s from our resort wear line, though. Is that okay?”

My assumption is that means it’s expensive. “Yeah, sure. Whatever it costs is fine.”

She hurries to the back and returns with a black sweater as promised. “One hundred and fifteen dollars,” she says, smacking her gum.

Okay, so I guess it is expensive. I hand the clerk my credit card and look back over my shoulder again to make sure she hasn’t bolted.

“Do you want me to cut the tags off?”

I nod. “And I don’t need a bag or a receipt.”

With the item in hand, I head back toward Charlotte. She’s watching me. The closer I get, the thicker the tension grows. It’s palpable. Dense. Deep. It makes it hard to breathe. I suck in a lungful of air and keep my eyes on her.

She drops her gaze as if assessing me and then rakes her teeth over her bottom lip. I don’t have any idea if she knows what she’s doing to me, but I feel the heat of her stare and I can barely stand it. I have to avert my gaze just to ease the burn.

“Here, put this on,” I tell her once I’m standing in front of her again.

She shakes her head. “Jasper, you shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s not a big deal. You’re cold.”

“No. I’m fine. Really, I am.”

My eyes settle on hers and I narrow my stare. “Put this on, Charlotte, so I can concentrate on something besides how fucking cold you are, and we can get this little talk over with.”

Startled, she reaches for the sweater. “Thank you. I’ll pay you back.”

Feeling like an ass for being harsh, I pop the swizzle stick back in my mouth and hold the sweater out for her. “Here, let me help you. And you don’t need to pay me back.”

She rises to her feet. “Thank you,” she says again. “It was really nice of you.” There’s a break in her voice as if she’s not used to people doing nice things for her.

I hate the thought. Then before I can stop myself, my eyes start to slide right down that body of hers and they take forever to ease back up those long legs.

Perv.

Perv.

Perv.

Turning around, she doesn’t notice.
Thank fuck.
But then she extends that delicate arm and the whole time she’s easing it into the sleeve, my eyes are dipping into the mounds of curls, wanting so much for them to be my fingers.

Perv.

Perv.

Perv.

Of all the times in my life for me to be so focused on a woman, with everything going on in my life, it has to be now? I have land to worry about. I’m certain the auction will be delayed. I have a business to build. One that I’m just starting. And of course, a dead body that keeps popping up in my mind to somehow forget.

She twists her neck and her eyes meet mine. The connection makes my heartbeat speed up.

I can’t take much more of this.

Distance.

I need distance.

Soon enough, her other arm is secured in the sleeve. Quickly, really quickly, I step away and back into the chair across from her, but I don’t look away. As if addicted to the way she moves, I watch the way she sits, crosses her leg, moves her arms, wipes some more stray tears from her face.

Seemingly resolved, Charlotte takes a deep breath and then looks right at me. “So, you want to talk.”

I do. I want to know why the fuck your father took you and ran off. Where you’ve been. Was there money? Is that why he ran? I want to know why. Why? Why? Why? Do you even know? I have a million questions.

Chomping on the swizzle stick one last time, I take it from my mouth. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but then she wipes another tear away and I can’t say any of them. Not right now. Not after everything that happened today. Above all else, a long time ago she used to be my friend. It would do me good to keep reminding myself of that fact, because right now I’m looking at her like she’s nothing more than a hot piece of ass that I’m a little overexcited about.

Fuck, this is all kinds of wrong.

Even though I know I need to find out the answers to the questions that have been eating at me for years, and then get the hell away from her, I still can’t ask them. Instead I speak without thinking once again. “What do you say to that coffee now?”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Then let’s grab a drink and something to eat instead.” This time I don’t ask.

She shakes her head. “I think I’ll just wait to get my things and call a cab to take me home later.”

Now I’m annoyed. “Look, Charlotte, it’s been a fucking long day and I could really use a drink and something to eat, and I’m sure you could too.”

A weighted silence falls between us. I think she’s considering my request. I certainly am not going to beg.

The silence is making her look even more vulnerable with each passing second. Unable to take it another minute, I stand. “I’ll be in the bar if you decide you want to join me.”

“Why would you even want to be seen with me?” Her words are a whisper.

And now I get it. She is afraid, but not of me, but rather what people will think of me if I’m seen with her. I look her in the eye. “Are you in Detroit to hurt me?”

She shakes her head. “No, Jasper, I promise I’m not.”

Her tone is honest and real.

I believe her.

So I give it to her straight. “Because even though I really wanted to hate you, I just can’t.”

She wraps the sweater tighter around her chest. “Why not? Everyone else does.”

There was talk about her at the site and I hated to hear it. I wanted to stand up for her. “Because it’s wrong. What happened has nothing to do with you. And I think everyone is just in shock. Give them time.”

“I don’t think time is going to matter. I can’t change who I am. I’ll always be
his
daughter.”

That fact can’t be disputed, but we can’t pick who our parents are and because I know this all too well, I offer my hand. “One meal between old friends can’t hurt either of us.”

She looks at my outstretched hand in contemplation.

“No serious talk, either. Not tonight.”

Hesitation is clear.

“I promise. Not after the day we both had.”

This time she laughs.

It makes my breath catch.

“You always could persuade me to do just about anything.”

Her comment causes my mind to wander back to a time when we would climb on the hood of my mother’s car, bury ourselves in the largest pile of snow, and slide across a frozen pond that I wasn’t certain was completely frozen.

I was her friend.

She was mine.

She was someone whose bedroom window I snuck into when I knew she was alone and afraid. Whose bed I slept in. Whose body I wrapped my arms around. But we were eight then, and innocent.

“Come on,” I insist. “I mean it, no heavy talk tonight. We’ll eat, grab your stuff, and then I’ll see to it that you get home safely.”

And so I beg.

I beg because I can see her goodness. Her innocence. Her fear. But most of all, I can see her sadness and I want to take a little bit of it away.

From the look in her eyes I can tell that her resolve is waning, and because she needs me, needs someone, she takes my hand.

I don’t know if we can ever be friends again. I don’t know why she’s here or if she’s still in touch with her father or his business partner. However, right now none of that matters. Someone she knew is dead. She lost her job. Her car is broken down. She obviously can’t afford a hotel room. And she’s not exactly welcome in this town.

So yeah, even though I have my own shit going on and my head is a fucking mess, I can sense she really needs someone to talk to. A friend. And I can be that for one night.

One night.

One night won’t change anything.

FREEZE FRAME

Charlotte

THE SIGN NEAR
the valet reads be back in 5 minutes.

Even standing beside Jasper for five seconds seems to make my heart beat double time. Five minutes will send it flying off the chart. Needing to calm down, I take a step away and move to stand in front of him. “You know I can take a cab home. I’ll be fine.”

That killer smile is just too much. “I’m a man of my word, Charlotte. I told you I’d make sure you got home safely and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

He’s not like anyone I know, yet he’s so much like the Jasper I knew at eight years old. Just like when we were kids, he has proven to be a person who keeps his word. He didn’t bring up the past, but I did bring up the events of today.

It felt wrong not to.

In essence, we were two strangers with a bit of familiarity who shared in a traumatic experience today. So we talked about Eve. How Jasper felt when he discovered her body. How I felt when I figured out the dead body was my co-worker. I confessed my concern that someone killed her and there was no clear motive as to why. We also talked about the fact that more than likely this would cause a delay in Jasper’s plan to buy the land, as it was now a crime scene. And it was okay to be sensible in our thinking for those few minutes, for Jasper to be concerned about his livelihood, but then we went back to the emotions we were both feeling about someone being killed and purposely put where she would be found during the very public groundbreaking ceremony.

They were raw.

Real.

Filled with honesty.

And I think we both felt better letting our feelings out.

Things started to feel a little heavy and once we’d eaten, we both sat in silence for a few minutes. Needing to clear my head, I left Jasper with plans to meet in the lobby and went to check on my room. The police were finished with their search and when I went in to retrieve my things, they had placed my laptop and research folders in a hotel laundry bag. They let me take them because they thought I needed them for work.

Of course they don’t know I no longer have a job.

One of the officers did, however, notify me that my hard drive had been copied and my documents scanned. The bag they handed me was all I could take out of the room. All of my clothing and other items were considered evidence. I wasn’t even allowed to take my toiletry bag.

Still, letting me take my computer and files has to be fate. The upside to some of the down. I really want to believe that. I have to, because things are really bad. A person I know has been killed. I no longer have a job. My car needs more repairs than I can afford. And if the police hadn’t let me keep my computer, I wouldn’t be able to do what I came here for. So at least I have that, my way to prove my father’s innocence, and for now I’ll take it as a positive sign.

Heart still racing, I look at Jasper, and with the toe of my sandal I push it against his shoe. It was something I did all the time when we were kids. “I don’t remember you being so bossy.”

Both of us feeling better after talking about Eve, the mood seems to have shifted between us, and he raises a brow. “I’ve changed a lot over the past twenty years.”

Boy, he’s not kidding.

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I want to respond with a
yes, you have
, but I don’t. That seems too flirty. Instead I stare at my once best friend. At the light and dark of his chocolate-brown hair that is more than perfect. Thick and glossy, he no longer wears it so much longer in the front that its bad habit of falling over his eyes is anything he has to worry about. Still, the way it sticks up in just the right places and allows for the perfect shape of his brows to be seen, his long, long eyelashes to be noticed, and the golden flecks in his eyes to mesmerize anyone they come in contact with, are all traits beyond perfection.

Oh God, my entire body tingles just looking at him. He has to be the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.

I shouldn’t be thinking this way.

Not about him.

And especially not after everything that has transpired today. This must be some kind of coping mechanism that I need to get under control.