Not that she should care. After all, it was over between them. She had only allowed him to stop by in the first place because she was a fair person, and he was entitled to explain himself.
Before she told him to take a hike.
She just could not, would not, allow herself to be talked into forgiving all his lies. If having a long-term relationship meant she had to put up with dishonesty, she’d happily stay single for the rest of her life.
Apparently her nipples didn’t understand her firm resolve on this matter. Because they perked up enthusiastically as she watched Jack approach, thumb drumming his thigh. He was wearing a suit. A power suit. Dark charcoal gray with a crisp white shirt that showed off his tan, and a red tie. The kind that screamed for onlookers to take its owner seriously.
He looked intelligent. Powerful. Rich. Hot. Especially hot. Really hot. Like she was having a little trouble sitting comfortably with this kind of heat in her skirt.
Never once in her adult life had she looked at a man wearing a suit as a sexy thing, and yet here she was drooling over Jack. Imagining yanking that jacket off and ripping his shirt apart again. Picturing running her tongue over his chest, down his navel, taking his thick, firm erection in her mouth and making him groan with naked pleasure.
“Hi.” He smiled at her.
“Hi,” she said, her voice sounding like she’d been hitting some helium on her lunch break.
He put his foot up on the seat and leaned over, in that guy stance of not sitting, but not standing either. Casual. Confident.
And she was staring at his crotch.
Jamie caught herself and glanced away, feeling heat streak across her cheeks. What was the matter with her? Focusing on the tomato plants she’d planted with some of the program participants’ children, she reminded herself that Jack was a liar.
Liar, liar.
Yet Jamie’s skirt was on fire.
She sighed.
“You look beautiful,” Jack said.
He was staring at her intently, the way he had when they had talked all night, the way he had when he had been deep inside her body.
“Don’t do that. Just tell me the truth. Did you know I was Caroline’s roommate?”
The temperature was in the eighties, but she didn’t think it was humidity that had her shirt sticking to her chest, sweat trickling down her back. It was nerves. It was fear that she wouldn’t be able to stand firm against his smile, his persuasiveness.
“Yes. I knew.”
She knew that. Had known it all along. But damn, it hurt to hear him admit it. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Jamie stared at his knee, because she couldn’t bring herself to look at his face.
“Because when Beechwood requested funding and I investigated the agency’s financials, I found some money shifting that didn’t add up. Someone is using the agency’s funds to trade, and then moving the money earned out of the account.”
That wasn’t what she had expected him to say. “What? That’s impossible. Who would be able to do that? There are only a handful of us who have access to the computer system.”
“And one of you is making money borrowing Beechwood’s money to trade with. Not stealing, since the money is always put back, but borrowing. Shifting lines from one column to another, you know what I mean?”
Not really. Her financial savvy was less than zero. “I can’t imagine who would possibly do that.” Not her boss. Janine had dedicated her life to the agency and lived in a dinky little apartment in Queens to prove it.
“I need to poke around a little, see if I can find out who. Otherwise, I’m obligated to call in the FBI.”
“The FBI?” Jamie glanced up at Jack. He couldn’t be serious. But he looked serious. “You can’t do that!”
“I have to. I’ve seen the crime, Jamie. But if you let me look into it, I’m sure I can figure out who it is. You can just quietly fire them and forget this ever happened so your operations don’t have to be shut down.”
“So what did this have to do with me meeting you on the subway? Did you know who I was then?” That’s what didn’t make sense to her. If Jonathon Davidson of the Hathaway Foundation had known who she was, how did Jack on the subway?
His jaw clenched, but he gave a sharp nod. “Yes. I had been to your office here…” He gestured toward the building. “And given what Caroline had told me about you in the past, I didn’t think that you were involved in any criminal activity. So I wanted to make sure you weren’t in any danger. Everything that happened after that…well, I didn’t set out for any of that to happen.”
Everything that happened. Like dinner, hours and hours of conversation, the most romantic and sexual experience of her life? Relegated to an accident of opportunity.
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking appropriately contrite. “Really, truly sorry.”
Feeling a little sick, Jamie started packing up her lunch, desperate to get away from him, needing to maintain a little dignity. If she cried in front of him, she would just die, shrivel up like a puddle in the heat.
“You’re just sorry that I found out.” She balled up her sandwich baggie and stuffed it in her soft-side purple lunch box. “And you can leave now. I’ve heard all I want to.”
His leg dropped to the ground, and he was moving around to her side of the table. Jamie scooted down the bench, reaching for her soft drink can. This was much, much worse than lying about being rich. This had required cunning, and more than withholding a few facts. He had set out to meet her. A sob ripped out of her mouth before she could stop it.
Jack reached for her. “Jamie, don’t, baby…please. I’m sorry, I should have been honest with you. But I was worried if I told you the truth, you’d confront the perpetrator on your own and get hurt. And then, later, well, shit, I was just selfish. I liked the way you saw me as a man, not a millionaire, and I wanted that. I knew the minute you collided with me on the subway that there was something between us, something that had potential…and God, I meant every word I said Saturday.”
“Except for the times when you were lying.” Jamie stood up and pulled her lunch box to her chest, knowing she only had about five seconds before she lost it. “Do your little investigating into Beechwood’s computers. But stay the hell away from me.”
She whirled around, wanting to run, determined not to, when he caught her by the elbow.
“Don’t do this…”
“Let me go.” Or she was going to shove her sandwich baggie up his nose.