Trusting Jack Read online

  Norah pushed her empty plate aside and waited.

  “He told me-again-what a disappointment I was

  to him, how much better Renee is than me. I let him

  get to me. And then Jack came back out.”

  Emma picked up her glass and turned it between her hands. Her eyes shone softly. “I could tell he was angry. He thanked Ryan for divorcing me, told him how happy he was to be with me. He put his arm around me and we just left Ryan standing in the street.”

  “I like that part of the story.”

  Emma smiled. “Me, too.”

  “Why do you think it bothered you so much?”

  She hesitated. “I’m…I think because I let myself be sucked in by his lies. And then he turned around and hurt me. And then I met Jack, and he dazzled me. With his looks, his charm, his goodness. Sometimes I think, what if this is an act, too?”

  “Jack cares about you, Emma.”

  “I care about him, too, so much,” Emma admitted in a small voice. “And it’s scaring the living hell out of me.”

  “Why?” Norah help up a hand while she ordered a huge fudge brownie topped with vanilla ice cream. “Bring two spoons,” she said. “We’ll share.”

  “I think…Oh, God, Norah; I know I’m in love with him.”

  “But, honey, why does that make you cry?”

  “Because I don’t know how he feels. Because I fucked up so bad before and I don’t want to again. Because it’s like you said. What happens when we’re through here?” Her voice had trailed into a whisper and tears spilled down her cheeks.

  Norah reached across the table and grasped her hand. “You didn’t fuck up, Emma; you’ve got to stop thinking you did. You have to talk to Jack; tell him how you feel.”

  “I can’t.” She twisted her napkin.

  “You have to. If you don’t, you’ll just go on hurting. And when we are through here, and we move on, you’ll always wonder ‘what if’.”

  Emma sighed deeply and mopped her eyes. “You’re right; I know you’re right. I need to tell him. I’m so scared.”

  “It should be sooner rather than later.”

  “As soon as I work up the courage. I will talk to him, I promise. And after, take it one day at a time, I guess.”

  Norah nodded and sat back. “That’s all you can do. But for now,” she said as a plate filled with brownie and ice cream appeared, “we’ll indulge our sweet tooth and get our nails painted.” She passed a spoon across the table and smile encouragingly.

  Emma sniffed, gave a watery laugh, and dug in.

  Chapter 18

  “Don’t you ever knock?” Jack asked when James opened the door and strolled right in.

  “Only on me boss’s door,” he replied cheerfully and dropped onto the couch next to his friend. “What’s that?”

  Jack laid the papers on the table and put his reading glasses on top of them. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m trying to decide what to do next.”

  “I’ll help you with that.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Sure. After we look over the financial statements I’ve brought along.” At the groan of misery, he smiled. “Buck up, mate, we only do this every three months. Then we can move on to the fun portion of the evening. What’s for dinner?”

  “You’re my closest friend. As such, and the fact that you’re also my accountant, means I trust you completely not to steal my money. I don’t know why you insist on making me look at numbers till my eyes bleed,” Jack grumbled. “And since you are, you can find your own damn dinner.”

  James just laughed. “Thought you’d say that. Mum came by and dropped off some frozen casseroles. She told me she’d put some in your freezer as well, while you were out.”

  “Your mother’s chicken casserole is in my freezer?”

  “Yes. She insists on stocking us both with her cooking. I’ll get it out and heat it up. And while it’s heating up we’ll do the ‘this is how your portfolio looks’ bit. We can play after.”

  “Fine.” Resigned, Jack reached for his glasses,

  slipped them back on. “But only because it’s your mother’s chicken casserole.”

  ***

  “The stock investments we made are doing well. Better than well, actually, you’ve made a huge profit on those. Enough to pay off the house, with plenty left over.”

  “That’s always good to hear.” Jack looked around. He’d bought the modest, two bedroom house three years ago. He decided it was time to clear up the mortgage. “Let’s get it paid for.”

  “Also, the interest from the trust your grandfather left you is adding up considerably.” James stood and moved to the oven. He removed the casserole and set it on the counter to cool.

  “Let’s donate the interest, then. To the children’s cancer hospital.”

  “So noted.”

  “Is that it?”

  “It is, until the next time.” With the ease of long time familiarity, James got plates and forks, beers and bottle opener.

  “Praise God.” Jack stuffed the papers back into James’s briefcase. “I could hate you for making me to this.”

  “I could insist on formal monthly meetings in my office.” James chuckled when Jack shuddered. “Thought so.” He brought everything to the table and took a swig of beer. “You don’t have a date tonight?”

  Jack shook his head. “Norah’s filming scenes

  with Roger, now that he’s back from Whales. I’ve a

  few more days off.”

  “Ahh. When do you leave for Germany?”

  “Five days, if everything stays on schedule. I’ll be gone almost two weeks.” He forked casserole, washed it down with beer. “I should stop by and see Glenda before I go.”

  “You really should. Mum says it’s been a while since she’s seen your face.”

  “I’ve been rather busy. And, now, I have to decide what I want to do next.” He pointed with his fork towards the stack of papers.

  James slid them over and looked. “Well. Another movie offer. Oh, shooting in Canada.”

  “And set to begin only a week after She-Wolf wraps.”

  “Hmm…” James flipped through the papers. “An Ideal Husband. Back to the theater stage.”

  “Yes. If I accept I’ll play the lead male role of Sir Robert.”

  “Lead is nice.”

  “Yes,” he said again as he stood to get them both another beer. “It’s also here in London, which means Alison doesn’t have to be completely away from the baby just yet.”

  “When would you have to begin working on that?”

  “Six weeks after wrap up.”

  “That gives you a good breather.” James looked up, looked at Jack. “You’re leaning towards the play.”

  “I am; it seems the best option.” He piled the dishes into the sink and they went back to switch on the TV. They both sprawled in the floor, their backs against the sofa.

  “Why?”

  “As I’ve said, for Alison and the time frame. You know theater has always been my first love. The movie is coming along nicely, but I miss the thrill of being on stage. Yes,” he suddenly, firmly decided. “I’ll tell my agent tomorrow. An Ideal Husband it is.”

  “Good deal, then.” James clinked his bottle against Jack’s. “I’ll be there opening night as usual.” He guzzled beer, belched. “Been a while,” he commented, “since we’ve had an evening to ourselves.”

  Jack polished off his beer and sat the bottle aside. “Missed me, have you, darling?” He grinned.

  “Not in the least, you ass,” James grinned back. “And when you’re gone to Germany, I’ll not miss you again. I’ll be sure and take care of the lovely Emma so she won’t miss you either.”

  “That’s impossible,” he replied easily. “She’s mad for me.”

  “She’s mad, all right, for being with you. When is she set to leave?”

  Jack started and stared. “Leave?”

  “You know. When will Norah’s part of the film be over,
when will they leave?”

  “I don’t know.” He shook his head, looked around and back at James. “I don’t know,” he repeated. Why was his chest beginning to hurt? “I—we—haven’t discussed that.”

  James raised his brows. “Are you OK, mate? You look…suddenly pale,” he decided, “and shaky.”

  “It—I hadn’t thought of her leaving, going back home.”

  “Well, then.” James studied Jack’s face and took in the glazed eyes, the slightly shocked expression. “You love her!” he exclaimed suddenly.

  “What? What?”

  “You love her,” he said again, slowly, as if talking to a child. He took some perverse pleasure at the rising panic on his friend’s face.

  “I don’t…” Jack trailed off, closed his eyes. Hadn’t he been thinking the same thing, he asked himself, only days before?

  He fell back, flat on the carpet, and stared at the ceiling. “Oh, hell. I do.”

  James stretched out beside him. “You do,” he confirmed. “Is it a problem?”

  “It’s difficult. Not difficult to care for her, or to want her. But, love…we both know how that ended last time.”

  “Emma is nothing like Sarah. Thank God.”

  “Emma is still a bit tender from her past, as well.” He turned, propped up on his elbow.

  “Jack. I’ve seen you two together. She may be tender, but I’m willing to bet she loves you back.”

  “Are you?”

  “I wouldn’t be wrong. Why don’t you take her somewhere after wrap up? A little holiday, and talk things through?”

  Jack slowly nodded. “That’s a great plan. I will, as soon as possible.”

  “Brilliant! Now, be a good host. Go fetch us another beer and some chips. We’ll watch the rest of the boxing match and tell dirty stories.

  Chapter 19

  Emma, and Norah, finally had days free from filming. Norah had a few interviews and photo shoots lined up. Emma would be mostly able to do as she pleased. She would be scouring London, visiting the tourist spots again, and roaming the rest of the city that had always captivated her.

  But first, she thought as she placed clothes in a small bag, she was going to give Jack a proper sendoff. Her smile was feline as she tossed the black nightie in on top.

  “Hot date?” Norah leaned against the door jam, her blond hair gathered into a stubby tail at her neck.

  “You bet. Jack leaves for Germany day after tomorrow. I’m cooking for him tonight, and I’ll be sleeping over there.”

  “Probably won’t be much sleeping.”

  “I hope not.” They shared a quick, female look. “I plan on serving him a wonderful leg of lamb. With me for desert.” She lifted the nightie out of the bag.

  Norah chuckled. “I approve whole-heartedly.”

  “I haven’t forgotten about you. There’s a cold pasta salad and some lentil soup in the kitchen.” Emma threw a toothbrush and a hairdryer into the bag and zipped it up.

  “Many thanks for that. What time do I have to meet with the person from Glamour tomorrow?”

  “Interview’s scheduled at eight. I’ll be back

  before then, to make sure everything’s in order.” She

  looked at her watch. “But I really should be going now.

  I have to go to the store; Jack says he has practically

  nothing in his pantry. If I’ve timed it right, the lamb

  will be done just about the time he gets home.”

  “He’s not there now?”

  “No, he’s hammering out details for his next project.” She hefted her bag and they went downstairs.

  “I did that earlier today. I’ve committed to being the jilted wife.”

  “Wonderful. That’ll be a good movie.”

  “We start two weeks after finishing here. How will you get into the house?” Norah wondered.

  Emma dug into her small purse and pulled out a key. “With this. He gave it to me when I cleared dinner with him.”

  Norah cocked her head. “He gave you a key to his house. Does this mean what I think it means? Did you have that talk with him?”

  “No,” Emma hedged. At the patient stare, she reddened and shifted her feet. “We’ve been so busy. I’m planning to. Really. After Germany.”

  “Umm-hmm.”

  “I will,” she said again. The cab she’d called pulled up and she wrenched the door open with a sigh of relief. “See you tomorrow,” she tossed over her shoulder.

  ***

  Emma unloaded her shopping bags. She set the oven to preheat and set about slicing and chopping. She rubbed the lamb with garlic and herbs, seasoned it with salt and pepper. She sprinkled a small palm full rosemary on top and slid it into the oven.

  She had, by her calculation, just under two hours to set it all up. The lamb would be done by then and Jack would be home.

  She dug around and found deep blue plates in a cabinet. A look in another yielded wine glasses and a bowl suitable enough for the salad of field greens she’d planned. She located the silverware and napkins, and carried it all to the small table in the dining room.

  She’d already covered the table with a white cloth. Now, she placed a square vase filled with blood-red roses in the center and added a trio of short, squat candles before laying the place settings.

  Emma swung back into the kitchen and bundled her hair into a messy bun. It was time for serious food prep; time was counting down. She turned her iPod to shuffle and began tapping her bare feet and humming along to the tune of I’m a Believer. She set fingerling potatoes to boil and opened the wine so it could breathe.

  She tossed the salad, made a quick raspberry vinaigrette to pour over it. She drained potatoes, added rosemary and parsley.

  Jack stood in the doorway and watched her as she bent to retrieve the lamb from the oven. The bright pink shirt she wore didn’t quite cover the tight butt encased in snug black yoga pants. Her toes were topped with the same shade of pink as the shirt.

  She made a pretty picture. One, he mused, he wouldn’t mind seeing a lot in his kitchen.

  “Hello,” he greeted her.

  She turned, smiled when she saw he’d already loosened the red tie he wore. “You’re a little early, but that’s ok. It’s almost ready; the meat has to rest a bit.” She brushed back a tendril of hair that had escaped the bun.

  “Emma.” She looked so damn lovely, so damn

  right standing in his kitchen with the heat of cooking

  pinking her cheeks. “This is perfect.”

  Her eyes melted and she poured two glasses of Chardonnay. She handed him one and lightly tapped it with her own. “I agree. To a perfect evening.”

  Jack glanced at her iPod as Fade to Black ended and Let’s Fall to Pieces Together took its place. “I’ve never heard this song.”

  “George Strait, old country music.” Emma shrugged and grinned. “You can take the girl outta the south, I guess, but…”

  He laughed softly. “I like it,” he decided. “Dance with me.”

  She went willingly into his arms and they swayed slowly with the song. Emma put her head on his shoulder and breathed in his scent. Sandalwood and male. She closed her eyes and knew she’d give just about anything to make the moment last forever.

  When the song ended, Jack pulled away a bit and tilted her face up. His lips brushed over hers once, twice and when he moved to take it deeper she placed a hand on his chest.

  “Not now, not yet,” she told him with a little laugh. “I worked too hard to let the food go cold before we eat.”

  “It smells divine.”

  “It’ll taste even better.” She led him to the table. “Sit. I’ll serve you and you can tell me about your next project while we eat.”

  Chapter 20

  “Oh, you’ll be a great Sir Robert. I’ve always enjoyed Oscar Wilde.”

  “You think so? You don’t think I should do the movie?”

  “You’re a terrific actor, Jack, and you’ll be great in whatever you choose
. But I know it’s the theater you love best.”

  “You understand me so well.” Jack savored the last bite of his lamb. “You’re a damn fine cook, love.”

  “It would warm Mama’s heart to hear you say that. She taught me everything I know.”

  “You seem to enjoy it.”

  “I do.” She draped her napkin over her plate and drew a knee up in the chair. “Planning for it, shopping, the actual time spent in the kitchen. Watching someone you care for eating something you made.” She smiled. “It makes me feel good. Do you want more?”

  “Oh, no, I’m full. I couldn’t eat another bite.”

  “That’s a shame,” Emma told him as she rose, gathered plates. “I stopped by the bakery and picked up a triple chocolate cake.”

  “Triple chocolate?”

  “Mmm. James mentioned it was your favorite.”

  “Well.” Jack’s eyes brightened. “I guess I could find room for a small slice.” When Emma indicated a size with her thumb and index finger, he grinned. “Maybe a bit larger than that.”

  Emma laughed. “Go on into the living room; I’ll bring you your bit larger slice in there.”

  She carried the tray in and sat in on the table in

  front of the sofa. She handed Jack his plate of cake and

  a cup of coffee. She took her own cup and sat beside

  him, tucking her feet under her.

  “No cake for you?” he asked as he dug into his.

  She shook her head. “No, I really am too full.” But she caved when he held out a bite on his fork. “It’s good.”

  “I’ve had a lovely evening, Emma. I don’t often get homemade meals.”

  “Do you cook?”

  “I can boil water for tea and make coffee. I can warm up leftovers or something Glenda leave in my freezer. And I can manage a few small meals.”

  “Glenda?”

  “James’s mother. She usually sees to it that I have two or three meals in there. Must be a woman thing, seeing everyone fed. Did you cook much for Ryan?” he asked as he fed her another bite of cake.