You Don't Know Jack

Gripping a crystal worry stone she’d pulled out of her purse, she tried to think serene, calming thoughts. Waterfalls, dolphins, daisies. Nothing helped. She was hysterical.

“You were right, Allison. We should have never gotten our fortunes read. Now I have all this horrible knowledge weighing down on me. I feel burdened.”

What would she have done differently if she’d never known anything about her destiny? How could she possibly face Jack knowing that she’d been acting like a fool?

And in this stupid, clingy, short, short dress?

“I feel late,” Allison said, grabbing her purse. “Check your boobs and get a grip. You have to walk down the aisle with Jack, and I have to spank an Irish cousin if he gets out of line.”

Jamie glanced down at her cleavage, saw too much of it, and yanked her dress up. “Can we switch places? You walk the aisle with Jack, and I’ll spank the Irish cousin?”

“No way. Spanking is more my style than yours.”

An image of Jack behind her, giving her a playful swat, rose in her mind, and she flushed. That was not what Allison meant, and here her mind went right in that direction. Dang. Her dress was too clingy, and her willpower too shaky to be having thoughts like that.

“You’re right. No spanking for me.”

Jack busied himself chatting with Pops and ignoring his mother.

It was a bit of a challenge since she kept approaching them to fuss over Pops and criticize both of them, but he was making an effort. This was his sister’s wedding rehearsal, and he was in church. He’d be charitable, no matter how difficult it was.

“Jonathon, I’m so glad to see you got a haircut. You were looking absolutely slovenly.” His mother reached out as though she wanted to straighten his tie, then thought better of it. His mother led the family in questioning his sanity.

“I’m thinking of growing it out, Mom. Going for a retro beach look. Taking up seashell collecting and opening a hot dog stand.”

She darted a quick look around before whispering fiercely, “I’m sending my therapist to you. He can fix your little crisis.” Her hand went up to pat her hair, check her earrings. She was perfection as usual in an ivory dress, minus the suit jacket that accompanied it. It was sleeveless, to show off the biceps her personal trainer, Rafe, was carefully sculpting.

“I’m not having a crisis. I’ve made a lifestyle change.” It was probably cruel to push his mother’s buttons like that, but he was feeling downright put upon. No matter what he did, it was wrong.

His mother wanted him rich. Jamie wanted him to be broke. Meredith wanted him back at the firm.

And he wanted what he couldn’t have.

“Margaret, lay off the kid. This is your daughter’s wedding…can’t you just pull the stick out of your ass for twenty-four hours and enjoy yourself?” Pops looked disgusted, and his words were firm, despite the slight slur that was still present in them.

Jack’s mother clamped her jaw shut. “You should have brought a nurse with you, Dad. Who is going to keep an eye on you?”

“I don’t need a goddamn nurse. I can even wheel this chair around by myself.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Jack said, so they wouldn’t cause a scene. Not to mention that it was still something of a secret that Pops had moved in with him the week before.

“Oh, wonderful. The blind leading the blind. I’m so reassured.” With that, his mother turned on her heel and left them.

Pops smacked Jack’s thigh with his right, stronger arm. “Don’t let her get to you, Jack-o. She’s just trying to get a rise out of you.”

But Jack only half heard his grandfather because Jamie had just walked into the church and was coming down the aisle. Wearing a dress that clung to her impressive breasts and sort of shifted and floated all around her. It reminded him of lingerie, soft and delicate, sexy as hell. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, spilling over her peaches-and-cream skin.

He’d never seen her wear shoes with stiletto heels, but these were some serious Barbie sandals. They sent her two inches higher and showed off every bit of her legs from the knee down.

“Wow,” he said, gripping the back of Pops’s wheelchair.

He’d seen Jamie naked, touched every inch of her, and watching her walk down that aisle brought it all back to him in excruciating detail. What he’d had. What could never be his.

“What?” Pops followed his gaze. “I still can’t believe you’re actually interested in the con’s daughter. She’s a little porky for your tastes, don’t you think?”

Porky? The very word offended him. Jamie was gorgeous. “No, I don’t think that! Watch your mouth, Pops.”

The old man just laughed. “There’s nothing like a hard-on girl, is there?”

“She’s much more than that.” Though he did have a hard-on, right as he was speaking. Fortunately, the back of Pops’s head was blocking his crotch from general view.

Jamie looked stunning.

“Well, roll me over there and let me chat with her. Barely had time to talk last week, what with her all upset over her father. And I’ve always liked girls with curves. More to squeeze.”

“Pops…” Jack was not in the mood to joke about Jamie. “Seriously, don’t, okay? This isn’t funny. I have a lot of respect for Jamie.” Even if she had brushed him off. Twice. Even if she obviously didn’t love him the way he did her, or she would have had more to say than thank you.

He wasn’t sure how to fix what was between them. How to show her that there could be a relationship between them.

He’d never wanted anything in his entire life—not a deal, not money—the way he wanted Jamie Peters.

Not to possess, but to please, share his time and life with.

Maybe she wouldn’t agree with him, but he had to at least try and plead his case.

Will Davidson sobered up. Tried to glance at his grandson over his shoulder, very interested in the tone of voice Jack was using. “Alright, I’ll lay off. I was just joking.”

The girl was nothing in a million years like the kind of woman Jack usually would be interested in. She was pretty, very natural, looking a bit shy as she made her way toward them. Curvy. Very Chelsea or the Village, without a drop of Wall Street in her.

Will had met two or three of Jack’s previous girlfriends, and they were all cut from the same cloth—skinny blondes with careers in finance. But none of them had put that arrested look on Jack’s face. Personally, even after five minutes, Will had thought Jamie was Jack’s best pick so far, and given his reaction when Will had yanked his chain about Jamie’s weight, Jack thought so, too.