Drive Me Crazy (6 page)

Jaime shook her head and smiled. “Before we head to Wisconsin tomorrow, let’s get some take-out at one of the delis for lunch.” Surprised she had something in common with this man who was her polar opposite, Jaime hoped to redeem her country in his culinary eyes. He hadn’t been shy about his dissatisfaction with the food thus far. If he really was Jewish, he wouldn’t be able to resist Chicago deli fare.

“Sounds good to me, but what is a white-bread bagel?”

“It should be illegal is what it is. A squishy, doughy mess.”

“Sounds horrid,” he mocked, and then pointed to a road sign as they passed. “Chicago, and we have six minutes to spare.”

“You’ll need them. Skokie is north of Chicago.”

Chapter Five

“Have you slept with him?” Carla tilted her head towards the den where Xavier still slept on the couch.

Jaime twisted on her barstool in Carla’s kitchen. Technically, yes, but that wasn’t what she meant. “No. He’s just giving me a ride to Oregon, and I’m making sure he gets there some time this century.”

“So you’re not interested?” Carla took a sip of her coffee.

“No.” Tempted, yes. Interested in being his vacation entertainment? She knew better.

And yet, she’d always admired her friends who didn’t shrink away from their sensuality, who didn’t keep it locked up in the box marked safe. Every relationship she’d been in grew out of friendship, attraction blossoming with familiarity. What she felt for Xavier was just plain weird.

“Then can I sleep with him?” Carla wiggled her manicured brows suggestively.

Jaime’s stomach clenched at the thought. Usually she liked how fun and free Carla was, but this was not the time or place. “We’re leaving when he gets up. You won’t have a chance.”

“I could find him in the shower.” She licked her lips, which churned Jaime’s stomach even more. “He’s really hot.”

“Down, girl. I didn’t bring him here to pimp him out. I wanted to see
you
, not see you on the make.”

“Oh, so you
are
going to have sex with him.” Carla laughed loud enough to wake the dead. “
Usted es ir a desgastar el petate el con,
” she teased in a singsong voice. “
Usted es ir a rechinar la cama.
”

“That doesn’t sound pleasant,” Xavier called groggily from the other room.

“Carla thinks she’s funny,” Jaime called to him. Hopefully he wouldn’t be able to translate this early in the morning or else he’d know exactly what they’d been talking about. She turned to her friend and said between clenched teeth, “
Ve a chuparle el peson ha un chango.
”

“Okay, now that sounds painful.” Xavier sat up on the couch, stretching his arms overhead. “What are you hens going to do with a monkey?”

“Did he call us hens?” Carla laughed.

“Hens, wrestlers, monkey lovers. My Spanish isn’t good enough first thing in the morning to be sure.” Bare-chested, he sauntered into the kitchen and leaned against the tiled counter.

Carla laughed again, loud and bawdy. She set her elbows on the counter, pressing her breasts together with the sides of her arms and showcasing more cleavage than should be legal over her thin tank top. The move might be subtle if Jaime hadn’t seen it work so well before.

“Cool it, Carla. You’re wasting your time on him. He’s gay.” Jaime got up from her stool, observing Xavier’s pursed lips and the defeated sloop of Carla’s shoulders.

Carla’s giggle bubbled up behind her, turning her from the cupboard she was reaching into for more coffee.

“Jaime, that’s just your luck, isn’t it? You’re on what could be a terribly romantic adventure, with a gay guy.” She had the nerve to keep laughing.

“Having my car stolen isn’t the start of anything romantic.” She placed her hands on her hips, wondering how Xavier would make her pay for her lie. She shouldn’t have to do much, she’d already agreed to Wisconsin.

“It isn’t since he sleeps with men.” Carla looked at Xavier. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

“Of course not,” Xavier replied in English, and then he turned on her in rapid-fire French. “
You want me to show her how gay you think I am? You’re too afraid to admit you want me, but the thought that someone else might be interested in me scares you more.
”

“Woah!” Carla held up her hands. “What did he just say?”

Jaime felt his green-eyed scrutiny on her, but she didn’t want the effect to show and expose her lie. “He’s trying to talk me into being an interpreter. Just ignore him.” Jaime turned her back on them both.

“Wow. If you two want to talk privately, you can just ask. You don’t have to show off how many languages you freaks speak. You’re both weird, for the record.” With a shake of her head, Carla excused herself for a shower.

“You’re insane, aren’t you?” Xavier took up one of the stools as Jaime searched the cabinets for an apology. “That’s the real reason Trent saddled me with you.”

“Look, I’m sorry.” Jaime decided to make it up to him a little. She put the kettle and a saucepan on the stove, blending condensed milk and regular milk in the pan.

She had no right to be possessive of a man who wasn’t committed to her, hell, a man she doubted could commit to anything past Tuesday. She knew better. So why couldn’t her head get that message across to other parts of her body? His gaze was heavy on her, making her shoulders tense.

Jaime turned to face him, trying to explain. “We don’t have time for you to have an affair with every woman we meet.”

“You’re jealous.” Teasing thickened his accent.

The words rang truer than she cared to admit. She had no right to be jealous. He was simply a ride, a guy she hooked up with once under otherworldly influences. She reached for the cinnamon and gave a healthy pinch of the spice to the pan.

“You want me lonely for this whole trip because you’re jealous?” The corners of his mouth twitched, taunting her.

“All the more reason to get to Oregon quickly, no?” She poured the boiling water from the kettle into the pot filled with coffee, letting it steep before she pushed the press down.

“Is this some kind of joke? You want to blackmail me to get to Oregon faster by depriving me of sex? I had a higher opinion of you, Jaime Cruz. I didn’t think you were the kind of woman who resorted to manipulation to get what you wanted. I thought you were smarter than that.” He stood, pushing off the counter, and sauntered to the den. “It won’t work you know. I won’t travel with an extortionist.”

Her chest tightened. She didn’t want him to continue without her, and it had nothing to do with being left here or having to make the rest of the trip by bus.

She wasn’t ready to be at home, and she wasn’t done with him yet. She had no idea what she wanted from him, but she knew if she didn’t act fast, she’d never have the chance to find out.

“Xavier, wait.” She turned off the stove and pushed the milk to the back burner. She found him in the den crouched by his bag, pulling clothes from it. “I’m not trying to manipulate you.”

His narrow gaze bored through her. “You and reality don’t get along well, do you? That’s exactly what you are doing.”

Her hand reached for him as he stood, but she pulled it back. “Listen, I know I was out of line. I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to have to deal with you sleeping with her.”

The hum of water from Carla’s shower shut off. Xavier cleared his throat and lowered his voice, switching to French. “Why would you think I want to sleep with her?”

“Why wouldn’t you want to sleep with Carla?” Jaime whispered, not bothering to try and disguise her words. “You tried to have sex with me the first night we met.”

The sound of a blow drier buzzed through the small apartment. “Because I liked
you
, J’aime.
You
intrigue me. If you weren’t interested, it wouldn’t matter. But since it matters to you…”

Looking into Xavier’s green eyes spun the dial of her internal compass. Instead of replying, she turned on her heel and marched back to the kitchen.

He was right. It mattered.

She poured the coffee into the milk mixture, swirling the pan to combine before pouring it into one of Carla’s bowl-sized mugs. She felt him follow, the electricity between them making her aware of movements he made that she couldn’t see.

A sprinkle of cinnamon finished the drink and she turned and slid it in front of him. “
Café con leche
.”

He wrinkled his brow, inspecting the mug carefully. “
Café au lait?
”

“Not exactly. You’ll like it though.” She turned back and poured a cup for herself. She leaned over her mug, letting the steam caress her skin and the aroma take her back to a place where she knew her own mind.

“This is like drinking caramel, but not too sweet because of the coffee.”

Jaime turned and smiled, glad her specialty had the desired effect. “You’ve been complaining about the coffee in the States for so long I thought I should make you something drinkable. Plus, it’s my way of apologizing for…you know.”

“Making me gay.”

She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t actually turn you gay.”

“You tried.”

She opened her mouth to snap back, but laughed instead. She liked him, simple as that. She kept her guard up because she could really like him and nothing could come of it.

He’d be leaving after the wedding and she’d be starting a new life. She’d only had long-term relationships and didn’t have any idea how to do anything else.

But Carla did. Carla dated without thinking about the future. She claimed she didn’t get heartbroken because she didn’t have expectations. If there ever was a time to have a fling, to enjoy herself in the moment instead of planning for the future, now was Jaime’s chance.

“You certainly are a mysterious character.” Carla sat on the barstool next to Xavier, both of them enjoying a second helping of Jaime’s
café con leche
while she took her turn in the bathroom.

Xavier ran a hand over his short hair, still slightly damp from his shower. “Everyone has a little mystery to them. Your accent for instance.”

Carla leveled her gaze at him. “Cuban, but don’t change the subject. I’m not as nice as Jaime. Are you trying to get with her while you’re on the trip together?”

He blinked, startled by her direct approach. “Jaime’s determined to break land speed records.”

“I know. I’ve made the drive with her twice.” She set the mug on the counter. “She likes you, or else she wouldn’t have tried to scare me off your tail. But you are going about her all wrong. She’s a very old-fashioned and a hopeless romantic. Feed into that and she’ll wind up falling for you instead of in bed with you. Show her a break from reality and she’ll indulge in everything she should have been doing the last decade. You need to play into that.”

“Do I?” He set his empty mug down, leaning into the back of the stool and crossing his arms over his chest.
This should be entertaining
.

“Jaime has this notion that she can’t have sex with someone she’s not in love with. It’s terribly outdated, I know. I think a few lust lessons from you could really improve her stash of seduction tricks, especially since you’ll disappear and she won’t have to face you again.”

He wrinkled his nose at her perception of her friend. Jaime needed no help from anyone in the seduction department. The woman had been a human icicle and burned him up.

“Let her get to know you just enough to make her feel comfortable, and she’ll go for this. She wants to, wants to do something rebellious and spontaneous before she has to play the good daughter back at home. But if you insist on staying this enigma and let sex seem recreational instead of adventurous, it’s never going to happen.”

“Thanks for the warning.” He smiled, trying not to laugh. Only in America could he be an enigma. Anonymity never existed for the heir to Marie-Chloe in France. Though his mother, and now his sister, were the designers, the fashion house belonged to the Moreau family, and as the heir apparent, he was nearly stalked by gorgeous women. He didn’t sit next to someone in a café without it making the tabloids.

“Maybe if you shake her up a bit it would help.” Carla clicked her acrylic fingernails against the countertop. “Take Route 66 to California, then head up Highway 101.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Jaime said as she entered the room, taking Xavier’s breath away.

Marie-Chloe circa, 2005. He couldn’t spot his sister’s designs anymore, but the red bandeau blouse with the empire waist and handkerchief hem had been Natalie’s opening statement. His sister had pushed their mother for a chance to get her own designs seen, and that top had ignited a trend, and earned Natalie a leading role on the design team. If not for that very blouse, Marie-Chloe would have crumbled when their mother died.

He took a deep, calming breath, trying not to react to seeing the blouse on Jaime. Natalie would appreciate the way she wore it over a simple white skirt. She designed for womanly figures like Jaime’s. That had been a point of contention for last year’s couture designs, the first to feature Natalie’s ideas.

“Damn, girl.” Carla rose from the stool and crossed the tiny kitchen to place her mug in the sink. “My clothes look better on you than they ever did on me.”