FullDisclosure (5 page)
She stood. “Jake, I can’t ask this of you. I mean—I don’t know about this. I should go.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He turned off the burner and crossed to her, placed his hands on her shoulders. “I wanted to help. I felt a connection to you from the moment you poured my coffee. Maybe it was meant to be.”
A faint blush rose to her cheeks and her eyes went wide. “You did? Really?”
“Yeah. I really did.” And that
was
the truth. There was a genuineness about her, a vulnerability that drew him in. And when he’d heard her story—or what little of it Evan had shared—he’d felt compelled to learn more. To help in any way he could. Maybe he had a secret “knight in shining armor” complex. Or maybe he was just drawn to helpless women. He couldn’t really say why he felt that way, he just knew he did.
“I didn’t think anyone would—I mean it’s been so long.” He caught sight of a tear slipping down her cheek.
“Hey! None of that now.” He brushed it away. “The last thing I want is to upset you.”
There was that hesitant smile again. “You haven’t. You’ve made me very happy. But it’s obvious you don’t know the whole story, and you need to. You should know exactly who you’re taking into your home.”
“Okay. I won’t argue that point. I want to know, but only because I want to know everything about you. But first things first.” He returned to the stove, dumped the shellfish into the mix. “And first we need to fill that concave belly of yours.”
He was surprised to find her standing at his elbow, eyeing the concoction on the stove. “Is it done?” She sounded as hungry as she looked.
“Not quite. It just needs some cheese,” he sprinkled in a good dose of Parmesan as well as some Asiago, “and a dollop of butter to make it extra creamy.” He stirred it well, until everything was melted and the rice flowed smoothly over his spoon.
He scooped up a small sample and blew on it gently. He held it to her mouth. “Now tell me what you think.”
She accepted the offering with only a little hesitation. Then she closed her eyes, chewed and swallowed. “Oh…my…God. That’s…I don’t have the words.”
Jake laughed. “The rapture on your face is expressive enough.”
And then those frail arms were wrapped around his neck and that delicate body was pressed to his. “Thank you, Jake. Thank you so much. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
He hugged her back, and hoped like hell that was the truth.
Evan turned the water on hot—as hot as he could stand—and stepped into the shower. Reaching for the soap, he turned his face to the spray and tried like hell not to remember the last time he and Jake had showered together. He failed miserably.
Jake’s hands, slick with lather, ran up and down Evan’s chest and abs. “You never cease to amaze me,” he said.
“Hmm?” asked Evan, too lost in the sensuality of Jake’s touch to really focus on what he was saying. “Amaze you? I’m not so amazing.”
“Are you kidding?” Jake bent down and used his tongue to flick a drop of water from Evan’s nipple. “I was going to say you look amazing for a man in his mid-forties, but then I realized that’s ridiculous.”
“Oh?” Evan opened his eyes to find Jake standing chest to chest with him, their lips barely a breath apart. “Why?”
“Because you look amazing for a man of any age. Most twenty-year-olds don’t look this good.”
“What do you want, Maynard?” Evan asked with a grin. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“Only this.” Jake kissed him, long and deep, his arms wrapped firmly around Evan’s waist as if he knew exactly how much Evan craved to be held on to like that. To be needed like that. Wanted like that. No woman had ever held him—kissed him—with such blatant passion. Oh they’d had passion, all right. It had just taken Evan too long to figure out that their passion hadn’t been for him—but for what he represented. And for what he could provide.
Jake wasn’t wealthy by any means, but he was independent, with his own life and ambitions. There was nothing false or guarded about him. He gave of himself completely to Evan and asked only the same in return. Of course women were capable of that. They weren’t all gold diggers, not by a long shot. But Evan had just been too unlucky—or maybe too stupid—to find the ones who weren’t.
Then he recalled that there had been one—one woman in whom he had sensed the same vulnerability and genuineness as he sensed in Jake. But she had been out of his reach—for so many reasons.
Jake had withdrawn from the kiss, but his hands never stopped moving, exploring, teasing. His hand was on Evan’s cock when he asked, “Shall I do your back?”
Even though the need for it had long since passed—Evan trusted him implicitly—Jake still always asked permission before touching Evan’s back. He nodded and Jake moved around in the large marble-tiled shower so that he could soap Evan’s back.
He worked up a good lather and then ran his hands firmly over Evan’s shoulders, shoulder blades, down to the small of his back. He paused briefly—as he often did—to lay down a pair of kisses, one on each of the deep welt-like scars that Evan still carried. As if Jake were kissing away the pain and humiliation that they represented.
And perhaps, in a way, he was.
When Evan’s back was slick and suds were dripping from his elbows, Jake wrapped his arms around his waist once again and pulled him in tight. So tight that Jake’s cock was wedged firmly in the crease of Evan’s ass. His hand found Evan’s cock once again, the stroking was a silent question.
Evan’s groan was his implicit reply.
“Dad!”
Rachel’s voice jarred him out of his fantasy. He swiped some water out of his eyes and stuck his head out. “Uh…yeah? What is it, honey?”
She called through the door. “Just making sure you’re okay. You’ve been in there a long time.”
“Sorry. I—” He had no idea what kind of explanation to make, so he chose to say nothing.
The silence on the other side of the door seemed endless. “Okay, well… I’m heading to work. I wanted to say goodbye.”
“Bye. I’ll see you tonight.”
Apparently satisfied at last, she left him alone and he imagined he heard the outer door click closed. He wilted against the marble, the water still pelting his skin and washing away the remnants of his trip down memory lane.
He’d made the right decision. Inviting Rachel to live with him until she got on her feet and could afford her own place had made sense, and it still did. He was getting to know her, growing closer to her in ways that would have been impossible otherwise. After three months they were even starting to fall into a routine, getting to know each other’s habits and preferences. The trouble was, many of the habits and preferences she was getting to know about him weren’t really his own. They were fabrications. A lie constructed to maintain the image of him that she needed to believe in. That her mother had so strongly suggested she needed to believe in.
At first it had seemed like the only option. It had seemed simple enough, and not an unreasonable request. But somehow it had grown, become more consuming. Of course everyone made sacrifices for their children. That was certainly nothing new. But now…
It felt as if the lie had taken over his life, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was costing him too much.
Rachel stalled on the sidewalk outside her new favorite coffee shop. She’d discovered this lovely place less than half a block from her father’s building. She wasn’t accustomed to hav
ing somebody else make her tea, but had quickly gotten very used to it.
Startled, she dug through her purse for the cell phone that had begun to trill so insistently. Finally her fingers curled around the technological nemesis that she had been told was essential for life in the city, but which she had begun to loathe. She drew it out of the chaos that was her purse. On a sigh of resignation, she answered the call. “Hi, Mom.”
“Oh! Hi!” Melissa Martin sounded vaguely surprised at the sound of her daughter’s voice. But then again she always sounded a bit anxious on the phone. Melissa was even less comfortable with technology than her daughter. “How are you, honey?”
The phone stuck to her ear, Melissa headed in through the doors of The Coffee Clutch. She’d noticed the line growing at the counter and decided she could just as easily talk to her mother while waiting to order her tea. “I’m fine, Mom. Just heading to work in a few minutes.”
“Oh. I thought you still had another hour.” Melissa always had trouble with the time difference between British Columbia and Ontario.
“It’s three hours later here, Mom.”
Which meant it was : a.m. there. But that was her mother’s—and used to be her—routine. Up at : a.m. and head out to the barn for milking. Then a hearty breakfast followed by a session of planting, weeding or picking in the enormous communal garden.
“So I’m just in line at the coffee shop and I don’t have a lot of time.” Actually this morning she was planning on treating herself to a muffin and a few minutes with the paperback romance she’s just picked up, but her mother didn’t need to know that. She just didn’t have the energy to deal with Melissa’s paranoia this morning. “Can I call you tonight?”
“Um. Sure. But just tell me, is everything okay? With Evan, I mean?” And there it was, her mother’s nameless fears about Evan’s questionable lifestyle and his corrupting influence over his daughter. Whenever Rachel asked her what, specifically, she was worried about, however, Melissa was never able to verbalize it. So Rachel had decided that her mother’s worries must just stem from the fact that Evan’s life was so different from hers, and so alien. It wasn’t God-centered, therefore it must be evil. And although Rachel shared her mother’s concern for her father’s soul, she wasn’t willing to give up on getting to know the man who had helped give her life because of it. He was a good man, and an honest one, with solid morals and a sense of honor and integrity. That comforted her, and it was a very good place to start.
“Yes, Mom. Really. Everything is fine. He’s being wonderful to me—as always.”
“Okay. Good. Well—”
“Sorry but I gotta go. It’s my turn to order. Bye.”
“Bye, honey.”
Three minutes later, Rachel was standing at the opposite end of the counter with her chai tea—another new experience her father had introduced her to—her blueberry muffin, and no place to sit. The place was packed and she was nursing an acute sense of disappointment. She was just offering up a silent lament to God when her prayers were answered.
A young man sitting alone at a table by the window was motioning her over. “Join me?” he mouthed, indicating the upholstered armchair across from him.
She took a brief inventory. He wore a conservatively cut suit with a plain black tie. His black hair was neatly trimmed and she could see no evidence of earrings or tattoos. A good sign. With a smile of relief, she nodded and made her way through the milling bodies to his table.
“Thank you so much.” She set down her cup and muffin and sat down. “It’s so busy today.”
“It’s Friday. Everybody needs extra caffeine to make it through to the weekend.” When he spoke she silently thanked the Lord that she was sitting down, because her legs had just dissolved beneath her. His voice was warm and smooth—like melted caramel, his eyes the color of rich maple syrup. She’d never been so suddenly and completely enthralled by a man before—and it unnerved her.
“I suppose,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t shake. “This is all still new to me. I’m still learning the city routines.” When she picked up her tea to take a sip, her fingers did betray her and she spilled a little on the table. “Oh dear. I—” But he was already mopping it up with a napkin.
“They make those cups so darn full.”
Darn.
He’d said darn rather than the obscene version of the expletive. She relaxed a little. “Thank you.” She smiled shyly. “Again.”
He laughed, tossing the napkin into the garbage. “No prob. Just trying to be a gentleman. My father is always drilling that into me, you know. Always complaining about how rude people are and there’s not enough chivalry in the world. And if I want the world to be good to me, I have to be good to the world.”
She was entranced. She could listen to him talk for hours. “He sounds like a wonderful man.”
“Oh he is.” She could live in that smile. “And he reminds me of it constantly.”
They both laughed.
“So, you’re new around here,” he observed. “As in new to this area of Toronto? Or to the city in general?”
“Oh, to the city. I’d never been to any city before moving here. It’s quite an adventure.”
“Wow! So where did you grow up?”
“In Northern B.C. on a huge farm. We shared it with a bunch of other families. My mother is still there.”
He leaned forward, propped his elbows on the table and looked at her in a way that made her tummy flutter. “That’s fascinating. Tell me more.”
Sadie snuggled into the cushions of her patio chair, pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped Jake’s soft terry cloth robe around her legs. It was so huge it fell way past her ankles.
She balanced her thick clay mug on her knees and gazed out over Lake Ontario. The spring breeze was fresh and clear, the water sparkling and the sky vibrant. The world felt brand new and the air positively hummed with life. But then she wondered if it was the world that had been renewed—or her.
“More coffee?” Jake had appeared on the balcony, carafe in hand.
She held out her cup. “Yes. Thank you. But you’ve got to stop spoiling me. I’m supposed to be the one pouring the coffee.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m your host. It’s my mission to spoil you.”
At last he sat down with his own mug and breathed in the view along with her.
She took a sip and sighed with delight. How was it this man hadn’t been snapped up yet? “Well the eggs Benedict, warm croissants and fresh strawberries certainly accomplished that. Where did you learn to cook like this?”
“Well, I’m a wine connoisseur. I sell it, so it’s my business to know it. And you always pair fine wines with fine foods. The two go together, especially for my clients. So I made it my business to learn about that as well.” He grinned. “Doesn’t hurt that I thoroughly enjoy eating it.”
“Oh so that’s what you do? You sell wine?”
“Yup. I sell to restaurants and hotels mostly, but I also sell to discerning individuals. Part of what I offer is my knowledge of the product and how various wines pair with different foods and different styles of food. So my recommendations are what have helped make a name for my company.”
“Is that how you met Evan?”
That question seemed to stop him. He hesitated a moment before answering. “No, actually. My business had nothing to do with it at all. An ex-girlfriend of mine worked for him. We met at an office party and just sort of…hit it off.” He shrugged. “We shared an interest in the finer things, I guess you could say.”
Was it her imagination or had some color risen to his cheeks? She couldn’t comprehend why this would embarrass him, but decided it wasn’t her business to pry. “So how long have you known him?”
“Almost a year and a half.”
She nodded. “So, long after the trial.”
“Yes. Before he saw you at the restaurant, he’d never mentioned it.”
“I’m not surprised. It was very painful, as much for him as for me. Perhaps more so.”
“What? You went to prison for a crime you didn’t commit. How can it have been more painful for him?”
“He lost a very good friend of twenty years. I only lost my freedom.”
Jake shook his head. “I really don’t think that’s any less valuable.”
“Depends on who you ask, I suppose.” She sipped from her coffee, grateful to have something to occupy her hands.
“But you lost a husband as well. I assume you loved him.”
“Yes, I did. Or I did when we got married. By the time of his death however…” She allowed her voice to trail off. She just wasn’t sure what to say. “Things had changed.”
“You fell out of love?”
“Let’s just say he wasn’t the man I had fallen in love with. I had married my hero. My knight in shining armor. He told me I was beautiful and smart and special. He told me I deserved better than to type his letters and open his mail. He was going to take a nobody mail clerk and turn her into a princess on a pedestal. But in the end all Cinderella got was a different castle to clean and a meaner stepmother to order her around.”
Jake leaned forward. “Did he hit you?”
He was surprisingly intuitive. “Not at first. Mostly it was emotional abuse. He threatened to for a long time, but only followed through near the end. And it only happened a couple of times. The last time was the worst.”
“Let me guess. That was the night he died.”
“You got it.” She shot him with a finger then, horrified with herself, stuffed her hand back in her pocket. “The night he was shot. Three times. In his bed.”
Jake flinched. “So you had a fight, you stormed out and…”
“I wouldn’t exactly say
stormed
. More like I fled. He backhanded me, sent me flying across the floor and I just got out of there as fast as I could. I didn’t want to bother Evan with it. I’d already gone to him once, and although he was supportive I could tell he was conflicted.”
About so many things.
“He was upset and angry about how I was being treated, but Philip was his best friend and he had no idea what to do about it. This was my problem and I needed to handle it.” She set down her mug, suddenly unable to swallow another thing. “Unfortunately that turned out to be a fatal mistake.”
“How so?”
“If I’d been with Evan I would have had a solid alibi. As it was they had my prints on the gun, evidence of a fight between us and no other suspects.”
“Wait a minute. Your prints were on the gun?”
“Yes. It was his gun, and I had handled it. He’d wanted to teach me to shoot, but I’d balked at the idea.”
“Oh. Of course. So where did you go?”
“I had gone to a hotel. Of course my checkin time was hours before the time of death, so that was no help. I couldn’t sleep and had ordered room service at midnight, but somehow they lost all record of that order.” She tried to smile. “I even had a conversation with the bellhop, but they couldn’t find him either. In fact the hotel had no record of such a bellboy working for them.”
Now Jake leaned forward. “What? What the hell?”
“Turned out he was a kid who had run away from home, and he was working under an assumed name. Under the table, for cash. The manager had no wish to admit to that at the time, of course.”
“So that’s how you got off? They finally admitted it?”
“I got a new lawyer—a decent one. Karey was disgusted with the way my case was handled. She said it was all circumstantial and I should never have been convicted. She hired a private investigator. He found the bellboy and figured out what had happened. The kid had left town just after the killing and had no idea the murder had even happened. Some guest had hit it big at the track and given him a huge tip. It was enough for the kid to pay for his trip home, so he disappeared. When they finally found him, his testimony plus my lawyer’s efforts were enough to win me an appeal.”
Jake frowned. “A big tip, eh? How big?”
“Two thousand dollars big. He said the guy was giddy and half drunk and just peeled some bills off this huge wad of cash.”
The frown deepened. “Still. Seems awfully…timely.”
“Yeah. Doesn’t it?”
“Do they know who this big spender was?”
“No. The kid only had a vague description and no name. It was almost five years ago.” She shrugged. “What can you do?”
“Well, I don’t know, but there’s something wrong here. There’s still a killer out there somewhere.”
“Yes,” she said softly, her gaze shifting to the city below her. “I know.”