You Don't Know Jack (Page 31)

That sent a cold rush of awareness tripping up his spine. That sounded like the day they’d met. Which just made it a coincidence.

“I didn’t believe him, but then that day, in the station, Beckwith called me to tell me it was about to happen, and then I hung up, ran forward and…right into you.”

Jack’s throat felt tight. His shoulders stiff. This was starting to make him uncomfortable.

“I thought it was you…I thought Beckwith meant you. But if you stepped in between us, maybe he really meant my father. Maybe I’m supposed to make things right with my dad.”

No, he did not like where this was going. Because he was pretty damn sure it left him out in the cold. “Maybe it’s all a coincidence.”

She shook her head. “Or maybe we interfered with destiny.”

“Maybe this was our destiny. You were supposed to meet me. I can make you happy,” he said, running his lips across the top of her head.

“Or maybe I can never succeed at a relationship until I fix things with my father. Maybe the timing for us is all wrong.”

Nothing had felt wrong between them, until he’d screwed up and failed to tell her the truth. “Maybe knowing your destiny is a mistake, because in searching for it, you manufacture it.”

Leaning back, Jamie cocked her head, thought that through, her lips parted. “Maybe you’re right,” she whispered. “Maybe I imagined things because I wanted to believe destiny was at hand.”

Abruptly, she stood up. “Maybe we need to leave well enough alone.”

Too late, he realized where she was headed with her line of thinking. “No, Jamie, that’s not what I meant.”

But she merely smiled at him, a soft, serene smile, her cheeks still streaked from dried tears. She kissed the tip of her fingertip and brought it to his lips. “Maybe it’s time to be friends. Just friends.”

Jack kissed her flesh, lingering over the plump pad of her index finger, tracing her salty skin with his tongue, not wanting to give her up. “We’re more than friends.” Jesus, way more than friends.

She pulled her hand back. “You can look into Beechwood’s money problem or you can call the FBI. It’s up to you. Thanks for the shoulder to cry on and…everything.”

“Jamie…” This couldn’t be all there was. It couldn’t be the end.

But she just gave him a wave and a sad smile and went into the building, the door snicking shut behind her.

And he took his sticky shoes and his wet tie and he went home.

Chapter 12

Jack Davidson knew when to buy and when to sell. He knew when a risk was too great, when it was a sure thing. He played put-options to his favor, and almost always won.

Money he could do. Dollars talked to him, gave him a direction in which to go. He had a fancy college degree stuck in his desk drawer, and he had a nice wad of cash rapidly making more cash for him while he sat back and watched it toil on his behalf.

That was all fine and good. But he was utterly clueless when it came to women. No instincts. Lousy success rate. And a volatile market.

Steve’s advice had exploded like shrapnel, nailing both him and Jamie. Jack didn’t know what strategy should be implemented at this point, so he did what any sane man would do.

He called his sister. A woman’s opinion was required if he had any chance of being successful with Jamie.

After the usual greetings, he paced across his living room Monday night and went straight to what was bothering him. “Listen, Caro, what would you do if a guy you slept with lied to you?” He added, “For a good reason.”

“I’d tell him to have a nice life and never see him again.”

Shit. “Why? What if he was trying to protect you? What if he apologized?” Jack bundled up the red cashmere blanket that he and Jamie had abandoned on the sofa, prepared to fling it into his closet.

“I’d figure once a liar, always a liar. If he can lie about the little stuff, he can lie about the big stuff.”

One small mistake and a guy has to pay for it for the rest of his life.

“Not necessarily. And what if he wanted to make amends? Show it wasn’t going to happen again.”

“Actions speak louder than words, Jonathon.”

And right now he was burying his nose in the blanket and trying to catch a stray trace of Jamie’s scent. My God, he was pathetic.

“True. Hey, Caro, do you believe in destiny?” He shoved the blanket behind a throw pillow.

She snorted. “No.”

That shouldn’t surprise him. Caroline was a true Davidson. She was aggressive, determined, and when she wanted something, she went after it. He had always been the same way. Was still that way. But somehow, he was wondering if there was more to the concept of fate. He’d have sworn everything that had happened between him and Jamie was meant to be.

“Why do you think certain things happen, then?”

“Randomness. Coincidence. Human choices. Take your pick. I believe in controlling my own destiny.”

That was it, wasn’t it? Destiny might play a part, but choices and actions drove your future.

Jack believed in controlling his own destiny. And that’s what he was going to do.

Jamie sat down in the big overstuffed chair in her apartment, a pint of mint chocolate chip next to her for emergency bites. This was not a conversation she wanted to have, but it was unavoidable. Taking a deep breath, she dialed her mom on her cell phone.

“Hey, honey,” her mother answered after two rings.

“Hi, Mama. How are you?” Jamie closed her eyes and sighed. Her mother was a wonderful woman, resourceful and loving. Yet she was going to be upset to hear about her ex-husband, Jamie was sure of it.

“Great, though hot. It’s been over ninety all week.”

There was the sound of chopping in the background, and Jamie imagined her mother was fixing herself a salad for dinner. “Listen, Mom, when my father left…did you know where he went?”

There was a startled silence; then her mother gave a little laugh. “Shoot, where did that come from? I thought you got over all that wondering about your father during your teen years.”

Maybe that’s what her mother had wanted to believe, but Jamie had never really stopped wondering. She had gotten over it, for the most part, she had thought. But she’d never stopped wanting to know why.

Rubbing her hands over her skirt, she stared out the window at the building across the street. A big fat pigeon was doing reconnaissance on the ledge. “I’m asking because I think I saw him today. He was hanging around outside my work, and he called me Jamie Lynn. It wasn’t until he walked away that I recognized his voice.”