“You’re really going to call her?” Steve crossed his arms and gave him a look of disapproval.
“Yes, I’m going to call her.” Jack spun around in his desk chair and reached for the phone. Wandering around his apartment Sunday feeling sorry for himself—not to mention getting shit-faced drunk Saturday at the bachelor party—had not made for a rousing end to his weekend. He had impatiently waited for Monday so he could get to the office and call Jamie at work, where she’d be less tempted to say nasty things to him when he tried to apologize.
He’d heard Steve’s message on his machine, coming in at four P.M. on Saturday. Jack didn’t know if Jamie had heard the call or not, but it certainly would explain her leaving without saying a word.
Somehow he had to find a way to fix things, to make sure she understood his intentions were good, if a bit screwed up. He couldn’t stand the thought that this was it. That there was no future for them.
“Jack, if a woman leaves your apartment without a word after you’ve had sex, she is giving you a very clear message—leave me alone.”
Jack steepled his fingers together and stared at his cousin. “How do you know we had sex?”
Steve rolled his eyes and adjusted his red tie. “Because I’m not an idiot. Look, just let it go. You had fun, it’s done.”
“No.” The very thought appalled him. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was let go of the perfect woman without some kind of discussion, explanation, second chance. Everything was fixable. Failure was not an option.
He picked up the phone and dialed.
Steve shook his head. “Oh, man, this is so embarrassing. I’m embarrassed watching you embarrass yourself.”
Jack just glared at him and waited for someone to pick up his call.
“Beechwood Social Services, how may I help you?”
“Could I speak to Jamie Peters, please.”
“One moment.”
Drumming his fingers on his desk, Jack fidgeted in his chair and glanced around his office, decorated in modern industrial by his grandfather. He liked this job, even if there was no challenge for him. Yet he felt the pull to go back, the restlessness, the need to do something different again.
But first he had to fix things with Jamie before he worried about career boredom. He put the phone on his shoulder and gave Steve a pointed look. “Do you mind?”
“No.”
“Get out.”
“No. I’m staying to save you from yourself.”
“All you’re doing is annoying me. Go away—” Jack shut up when he heard Jamie say hello.
“Jamie? This is Jack.” He turned to the window, away from Steve, pleased just to hear her voice again.
“Jack or Jonathon Davidson?” she asked tightly.
Uh-oh. “Well, both, actually. I answer to both Jack and Jonathon. Jack’s just my nickname like I told you. You can call me whatever you want.” Then before she could delve any further into that, he said, “So, are you busy tonight? Let me make you dinner.”
“In your apartment?”
She definitely knew who he was. No question about it. “Yeah, uh, listen, we need to talk. I want to clear a few things up. Maybe we could meet for lunch. I’ll come to your office.” He was fumbling, caught off-guard by the coldness in her voice, and by the realization that he had lied to her and it was going to be hard to explain that away.
But he was damn sure going to try.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Good-bye, Jack.”
She hung up on him. Jack jerked the phone back and stared at it. She had hung up on him. Never could he have imagined that Jamie, his sweet Jamie, would hang up on him. He really was up shit creek without a paddle.
Steve rubbed his hand over his chin. “Cut your losses, man. I’m serious. You’re setting yourself up for total humiliation.”
“No.” Jack wasn’t going to give up that easily. He called Beechwood right back. “Jamie Peters, please.”
“One moment.”
“Jack, I’m not interested,” Jamie said as a greeting.
“How did you even know it was me?” he asked, relieved that she had picked up, even if she sounded annoyed.
“We have caller ID,” Jamie said testily.
“We need to talk. I need to explain about the apartment, need you to understand that I wasn’t trying to be deceitful. I just get so used to women wanting to date me for my money that I’m cautious not to reveal too much until I know a woman better.”
Steve was still in front of his desk, and now he was very dramatically playing an imaginary violin. Jack picked up a paper clip and winged it at him. Get out, he mouthed to his incredibly nosy cousin.
Jamie snorted. “By the third time I’d say you knew me pretty well.”
Ouch. “Jamie…I’m sorry. I should have told you it’s my apartment, you’re absolutely right. I could tell by the end of dinner that you weren’t a money hungry kind of person. But you looked so freaked out when you saw my building…you said you wouldn’t date anyone who lived there.” Jesus, this was not helping. Jack rubbed his eyebrows. “You know, I really don’t want to do this over the phone. Can I take you to lunch, dinner, coffee?”
“No, thank you. Good-bye, Jack.”
The dial tone hit his ear again. “Damn it!”
He punched the redial button. “Beechwood Social Services, how may I help you?”
“Jamie Peters.”
“One moment.”
Jack was starting to think the receptionist was a recording. She had virtually no expression in her voice, aside from polite boredom.
A second later Jamie picked up. “Stop calling here,” she whispered fiercely.
“Then let me see you.” Aware that he was starting to sound like a stubborn five-year-old, he changed tones. Let his voice drop. “I miss you, Jamie. My bed was so damn lonely without you last night.”
She gave a heartfelt sigh. “Don’t…”
He could sense her hesitation, her desire to believe him, to return to where they’d been Saturday afternoon. “Just hear me out, gorgeous. Give me a chance to explain. You said everyone deserves a second chance.”
“Jack…”
“I’ll cry,” he teased.
She gave a soft laugh. “Right.”
“I’m serious. Please just let me see you.”
There was a long pause. Then she said, “Fine. I’ll meet you for coffee. Just coffee. Nothing else.”