Men Like This (13 page)

No dispute was officially over until both parties had reached a place where they felt heard and understood. While he’d make his point quite plain, he’d neglected to give Quinn’s any consideration. And he’d called her a fool, a misstep requiring immediate reparations.

“I always seem to be apologizing to you.” He skirted a sidewalk rubbish bin. “I was a real jerk this morning. I meant no disrespect, and I certainly don’t believe for one second you’re any kind of fool.”

She pressed her lips together and nodded once. He counted cracks in the sidewalk, noted discarded cigarette butts and frowned at bits of trash while waiting for a reply long in coming.

“No offense taken. Don’t worry about it.”

What an American thing to say. “Too late. I’m a natural worrier, and Mum says I’m right to be.”

Biscuit stopped to sniff a parking meter, and Quinn took the opportunity to make eye contact. “Your mom? You told your mom about our fight?”

“Fight? You call that a fight? Nothing broken, no hospital visit? You forget I’ve got an Irish heart under this fancy British facade.” Some of the tension in his shoulders fled when she smiled. They started walking again, Biscuit’s nose guiding the way. “Mum’s good for good advice. She’ll tell me the truth rather than pamper my little feelings. Sometimes I think she forgets I have them.”

Quinn snorted and draped her hand over his arm. “What did she say?”

“Well, she’s got some strong ideas when it comes to Vickie. They never were friendly, exactly. Much like the majority of the press, Mum sits firmly on Team Clementine. Apparently, this applies to our personal disagreements, as well.”

“Your mother hasn’t even met me. What if she doesn’t like me, either?”

An utterly absurd idea. He offered her peace of mind, anyway. “She will. You aren’t Vickie, and right now that’s about all it takes.”

Quinn paused and seemed to mentally toss something around. “Jack, did you tell Madeline that we’re . . . ?”

“Together?” He put his hand over the one she had resting on his arm, shrugged and gave her the grin he used for getting out of trouble. He’d once been told it only worked for him and five-year-old children. “I didn’t disabuse her of the notion, no, but cut me some slack. I needed some means of redemption after she went on and on in regards to my intelligence. Or, rather, lack thereof.”

She laughed. “Your mom called you stupid?”

“In so many words, yes. It’s nothing new. She’s been insulting my cranial capacity since the first time I brought Vickie home to meet her. There was an incident. It’s quite a story. I didn’t do anything wrong, but I still feel like an ass every time I tell it.”

He pulled in a great swallow of air. “It started when I had the brilliant idea to introduce my shiny new girlfriend to my mother. We had dinner together, the three of us, and I like to tell myself it went well, but in reality, the conversation was forced, and the atmosphere was suffocating. Mum likes to sit on the back patio after a meal and have a cup of tea, so I sent the ladies out and went to heat up the kettle. Apparently, on their way through the door, Mum’s wheel got stuck, jammed right up against the frame. What does my shiny new girlfriend do? She steps right around my mother’s wheelchair, of course, leaving Mum there rather than endanger her manicure to help dislodge her. To say Vickie and I went rounds over it is the understatement of my life.”

Quinn’s mouth had fallen open. His had too when he’d come upon the scene with a tea tray in his hands.

“She left your mother
stuck
there?”

He nodded. “My mother’s been telling me I wouldn’t have gone through with the wedding. The ‘incident,’ as we so lovingly refer to it, speaks to Vickie’s true character. I made excuses for her at the time, but that’s who she is.” He cut his eyes to Quinn and caught her nibbling her lower lip. “I hope this alleviates any guilt you may have regarding my broken engagement.”

“I’m not responsible for it, but I still feel like a roadblock.”

He stopped walking and faced her. “I meant what I said this morning, every word. I don’t do second chances. Mistakes are mistakes, but selfish choices that hurt people are just that. With or without you on British soil, Vickie and I are no more and will never be again.”

She gazed at him with eyes the color of steeped green tea. They couldn’t make up their minds, those eyes. Every shade of green in the paint store seemed to have found its way into her bright, intelligent orbs, from passionate olive to lively laurel.

“I considered what you said.” She blinked and broke the spell. They were walking again. “I think you’re right. About Blake. How can you put your trust in someone who had no qualms about putting you through the wringer in the first place? If the one time didn’t render any consequences, where’s the incentive to avoid a second or third transgression? I’d constantly wonder and worry. That’s no way to live.”

They reached their first pub, a small dive called Donovan’s. Jack guided Quinn to an outdoor table and ordered two pints of bitter. He let her settle before giving in to his anxiety. His reaction this morning owed but half its intensity to his feelings about Vickie.

The rest was fear that Quinn still held out for a reconciliation with her ex-husband. Had he found her again only to lose her to Blake when the little sod grew tired of his mistress and wanted the real thing back?

“What about for Seth’s sake?”

Their pints were delivered, and Quinn took a tentative sip of the strong ale. “Wow.” She grimaced. “Budweiser’s going to taste like spring water after this.” She sat up straighter. “Seth is the main reason I wouldn’t, actually. I might be crazy enough to risk my own heart twice, but what sane person lets their kid do the same? I’d survive another broken heart, but I’ll never let Seth go through the whole broken-family ordeal again. He came through the other side in one piece, but he’ll have his scars.” She sipped again. “We all do.”

It answered Jack’s question but didn’t come close to being what he’d wanted to hear. “You’ve mentioned Blake isn’t overly interested in Seth. Why not go for full custody? You’ve got the means. I doubt you’d have to try too hard.”

She sighed and glanced at her hands. “Dads are important.” The topic seemed to have taken the wind from her sails. “At least mine is, but Seth is bitter and Blake is preoccupied, I guess. Always has been.”

“You reckon if forced to spend enough time together, they’ll eventually come ’round?”

“I like to believe it, yes, but Blake is busy with his new family, and Seth is this inconvenient extra appendage they’re toting around and can’t wait to rid themselves of. He’s smart enough to realize it, too.” She covered her face. “Sometimes I want to kick my own ass for leaving him there. It’s what he chose, but maybe I should’ve forced the issue.”

Jack waved away her concern. “What, give him a reason to resent both his parents? He ought to have at least one of you in his corner, shouldn’t he?”

Before she replied, her phone bleeped from within the confines of her purse. “Oh, damn, I’m sorry. I try to leave the thing at home when I go out.”

One of her odd quirks. “I noticed. It sort of defeats the purpose, though, doesn’t it? I mean, they even call it a
mobile
phone.”

She ignored him and checked the screen. “It’s Blake’s landline. Probably Seth. I better take it.”

Jack acquiesced with a
carry on
motion and took advantage of her divided attention to study her during the conversation. A roll of her glamorous eyes and a grievous glare cast his way told him Seth wasn’t on the other end, after all. Jack sat forward and strained to hear both sides of the conversation, but to no avail.

“It’s none of your business who I’m with.”

He almost failed to catch the low murmur.

His chest tightened.

From the sound of it, old Blake was already displaying hints of jealousy. Much as Jack liked being the instrument of torture, what did it mean to Quinn? Did she get warm and fuzzy on the inside when her ex confessed to caring about her new flame? Did the underlying hypocrisy hammer at her or fly right over her head?

The call ended with Quinn’s puzzled examination of the mobile phone. “He hung up on me.”

“Everything all right?”

A sudden bright smile swamped her face. “Better than all right.”

Jack’s whole body deflated. Did she seriously still have emotions for that wanker? He wanted to rip his little hairs out, he wanted to
—

“Seth is coming to stay with me.” She burst into a small staccato of joyful clapping and took another sip from her glass. “Blake and Kira got married this weekend. He was in one of his tizzies, so I didn’t get much detail, but they’re going on their honeymoon cruise in less than a month. Emily has a conference out of town, so they’re shipping Seth to me for a week.”

Jack reinflated. Quinn was far too merry to be nursing any sore sentiments about Blake’s sudden marriage to his longtime mistress. “Fantastic. I’m excited to meet your son. He’s not at the brooding stage of his teenage years yet, is he? That’ll put a damper on things like nothing else.”

“Oh, you won’t have any problems. He’s curious about you, too.”

Getting better and better. “You’ve talked about me?”

“Briefly. I had to explain the chaos. In my head, he’s this confused little boy, but it didn’t take him long to scrub the image from my brain. He said I’m like a
real
famous person now.” She shook her head and laughed. “He’s never understood my brand of fame. I’m known yet anonymous. If he’s photographed while he’s here, it’ll be the coolest thing to have ever happened to him.”

What child didn’t dream of the spotlight? They outgrow it or they embrace it, but they all want it at some point. “Ah, his first real taste of glitz and glamour.”

“Maybe I’m doing it wrong. Is the high-profile celebrity life the way to go?” Her smile didn’t quite hide the intentness of her question. The answer mattered, but he wasn’t sure what she needed him to say.

In lieu of such insider information, he stuck to the truth. He swigged his bitter and absently rubbed Biscuit’s ears. “It’s work like any other job, but I suppose there are perks. I drive an incredible car, meet actors and musicians I’ve long admired. Beautiful women smile at me. It’s nice.”

She bobbed her head. “Maybe that’s what made Vickie crazy with jealousy.”

Unfortunately, not every situation was well handled with a joke. His serious reply seemed to catch Quinn off guard. “I’m not the type to go down that particular road. What’s behind those smiles is the desire for what I represent, not for Jack Alden Decker, who spends his down time with his crippled mother and lets the fancy car sit in a garage for weeks at a time because he likes to walk. Those women don’t like to walk. They go after people like to me so they won’t
have
to walk. With my newly gained perspective, I’m realizing Vickie is one of them. She’s after lifestyle, not love.”

He couldn’t have missed her skepticism if he’d been blindfolded and facing the other direction. He raised his arms in surrender. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my pubs and I’ve been known to scrap when I’m in my cups, but that’s the extent of my bad-boy adventures.”

She quickly dropped the expression he’d so easily read and flipped her hair in an effort to distract him, he surmised. Women and their hair. “Well, there should be at least a few benefits to balance out the negatives. Creeps following you everywhere, turning everything private into gossip fodder for the public. Not everything about it is glamorous.”

“Not that you have much experience with that. You get the good stuff—the money, the awards, the public acceptance of your brilliance
—
and none of the hassle.” He offered her a smile, one part apologetic, one part amused and, he hoped, 100 percent endearing. “At least until you started keeping company with the likes of me.”

Her immediate silence bothered him. Maybe she regretted what he’d done to her private life. But then she smiled and gave him a what-the-hell shrug. “It’s been a fair trade.”

O
ne more paragraph.

Then she’d get dressed for her lunch date with Jack at the deli across the street. Quinn tapped away. Her muse was on fire after a restful sleep and a fantastic breakfast of leftovers.

There. Finished. She studied the screen. Actually, there was time to polish off the chapter if she hurried and wore yesterday’s jeans again. No one would notice. Except Jack. Jack might notice. But would he care?

Her heart tripped over itself when the front door opened and slammed shut. The sound reverberated through the apartment.

Jack shouted for her. Her eyes snapped to the digital clock on the corner of the computer monitor. She still had ten minutes. Why was Jack home?

“Quinn!” he shouted again. He burst into her office. His body language loudly announced his irate mood before he ever opened his mouth.

She’d seen him in a tizzy when they’d argued a few days ago, but this was Jack Decker well and truly pissed off.

Now that her curiosity was appeased, she wished it would go away. “What’s going on?”

He shoved a rolled up tabloid from his back pocket into her hands and growled. “Read that rubbish.”

Jack paced as she read Vickie’s latest lambaste. “Good grief. I’ve never even seen your bed. How did she catch us having sex in it?” She looked at Jack. “She’s out for blood. What’re you going to do?”

Jack’s eyebrows snapped together. “Me? We’re in this together last I checked, and we’ll start by firing my publicist. I should’ve had some warning, been prepared instead of blubbering like an idiot when some arse stuck a microphone up my nose and asked me to verify Vickie’s allegations.”

She didn’t enjoy his frustration but appreciated how it brought out the best of his Irish accent.

He anxiously ran his hand over his head, the hair too short to run his fingers through. “This is insane. She’s insane. The cousin thing, sure, but this? This is going too far.”

She gave him a tiny, helpless shrug. “I don’t get why this is more upsetting than anything else.”

“It’s pure fabrication! The cousin bit was at least true, yeah? Embarrassing as hell to cop to but true.”

Quinn slowly rose from her chair. “We chose to pretend we had an affair rather than try to deny rumors that seem all too easy to prove true. How is our lying different than hers?”

His normally bright eyes went dark at her chastising. “I’m doing my best to get her off my back. I hoped if it looked like I’d moved on to a legitimate relationship with you, she’d leave well enough alone. Instead, she’s declared war.” He took a step closer, his eyes never straying from Quinn’s. “And who says it’s a lie?”

A nervous laugh escaped her. “This was your idea, remember? We pretend—
pretend
being the key word here—until we part ways. You run off to Portugal to shoot your big movie, I go back to L.A. to be with my family, our lives go back to the way they’re supposed to be. This isn’t our reality. It’s a bubble of make-believe we’re temporarily inhabiting.”

Jack’s expression morphed into one of exaggerated confusion. “Did I use the word
pretend
? I recall proposing we let the press believe we’d been together and continue to be, but what’s between you and me. . . .” He shook his head. “No, I never said we ought to pretend anything between us. Is that what you’ve been doing? Pretending when you’re with me?”

“Well, what is it you’re doing, Jack?”
Pretending harder than me.
This wasn’t some role he’d win a television trophy for. This was her life. She crossed her arms. “You’re buying your own story.”

He didn’t reply right away. He stepped even closer. His lips were a breath away from hers. He drew her arms from their defensive position and held her hands. “Tell me this, love. When there are no cameras to smile for, do we smile anyway? What do you make of what happens between us when no one’s watching?”

She peered over his shoulder to avoid his piercing eyes. Real, pretend, rebound. Her head spun like a deranged ballerina. “I don’t know.”

He dropped her hands. “Right.” The word dripped with disappointment. “Listen, you call this pretend if you like, but me, I recognize the real thing when it’s standing right in front of me.”

He whirled away and muttered something about his “rotten publicist” under his breath before slamming back through the front door.

Jack, the human tornado, had struck again.

His dramatic exit, second only to his entrance, left the place with a vague emptiness like the color in the room took its leave when he did. She’d never met a more laid back guy. A guy who believed wholeheartedly in a guiding fate that promised to take care of the blips and bumps along the road. He dedicated himself wholly to the influence of his emotions, whatever they may be, throwing them around like lightning bolts
—
anger, frustration, determination.

He brought every one of her senses to life regardless.

She cracked her knuckles. No more writing today. She needed a more physical outlet, and with a canceled lunch date, she had a little time on her hands.

 

Madeline picked up on the third ring, probably a split second before Jack would’ve hung up and redialed to avoid leaving a voice mail. This required direct assistance.

“Mum, I need help again. I’m losing my bloody mind with this woman.”

“Calm down, Jack.” She sounded more annoyed than soothing and just what he needed to hear. “What’s got your trousers in a knot?”

“Quinn, who else? I can’t figure her out for the life of me. I think I read it all wrong, Mum. It’s like she’s with me when the moments are happening but won’t acknowledge them. Won’t acknowledge us. She thinks I’ve been pretending this whole time! I can’t believe her. I can’t fathom how she’d—”

“Jack. Shut up. This isn’t Vickie you’re dealing with.”

“Oh, aye. Compared to her, this courtship is an intricate ballet of—”

“You’ve got to stop flying off the handle with these crazy metaphors. Have you considered Quinn spends half her time with you simply confused?”

It was possible, yes, but he wasn’t going to interrupt his mum a second time.

“You feel stupid not seeing through Vickie, aye? Well, imagine, if you can, how much more so for Quinn. Five years, lad. That’s an awful long time to play the fool. Try to understand what it might do to a woman’s confidence and her trust in her own instincts. And look at what the poor woman has to work with! A bloody movie star, aren’t you? You think you’re in love with her?”

“I’m absolutely in love with her.”

“Then slow down. Small steps, little reassurances every day. You’re not getting the whirlwind romance you expected, but who the hell says you’re entitled to one, eh? You found your way to her. She’s got to find hers to you. All you can do now is be there when she does.”

 

Quinn didn’t have Jack’s flair in the kitchen.

Actually, she didn’t have any flair in the kitchen. If it didn’t say Helper on the box or come with printed instructions, call her useless. The one exception was her mother’s brandied chicken. Her secret weapon.

Her only weapon.

Shopping in a foreign country made for an interesting life lesson. An orange was still an orange, but asking where to locate the zucchini might earn you a puzzled glance from the produce boy since the English called them courgette.

She loaded down a basket for what would be her great cooking adventure, at the same time praying she didn’t mess it up. Her cell phone chirped from her purse, but she ignored it. Food shopping demanded her full attention.

It rang yet again while she struggled to enter her apartment with an armload of grocery sacks. Jack would have to cool it. She didn’t sit around waiting for the latest gossip, and she didn’t really care how his publicist had decided to handle the matter.

The third time her phone sounded she was elbows-deep in raw chicken. She rolled her eyes. The timing of some things had to make her wonder. After she rinsed the chicken and patted it dry, preparing it for a marinade, she checked for messages.

Every call had been from Blake.

Well, she didn’t want to talk to Blake. The blame for the media storm she weathered daily sat squarely on his shoulders.

She silenced the phone and opted for an hour of editing and a quick shower while the chicken roasted. By the time she scrubbed herself clean, it might be ready. She’d only need to toss together a salad with whatever she had in the fridge.

Jack had taught her anything covered in oil and vinegar passed for a salad. No lettuce required.

She had her hair up in a towel turban and stood applying lotion to her freshly shaved legs when the phone made a jarring whirring sound as it vibrated against the hard surface of her nightstand where it sat charging. She quickly wiped the lotion from her hands and frowned at Blake’s name popping up a fourth time.

She hoped against the odds Seth was on the other end this time and answered. “Hello?”

“About time!” Blake’s thunderous shout caused her to rear back. “I’ve been trying to reach you for hours!” he boomed.

She fumbled with the phone. “Excuse me?”

“It’s Seth.” He explained through laborious huffing. “Seth ran away.”

The world stopped spinning on its axis, the heavens crashed into the earth, and she’d stepped into an alternate reality. “
What?
”

Seth didn’t run away. Seth didn’t cause problems and act out.

Something was terribly wrong. “Why are you calling me? Call the police! Why aren’t you out searching for him?”

“He’s home now. He’s safe.”

Relief soared through her, followed by an instantaneous urge to grab Blake by his delicates and shake him. “What’s the matter with you?” she shrieked. “You might’ve mentioned he was safe
before
telling me he went missing.”

“I didn’t want you to completely miss out on what a terrifying few hours it’s been. I’d hoped you might have an idea of where he’d take off to. Instead, I had to get the police involved, who luckily found him at some park down the road sitting on a bench blocked from the street.”

“There’s something going on, Blake, something you’re not telling me. He wouldn’t take off without a good reason.”

“There’s a reason, all right. He’s an emotional kid who misses his mother. How’s that for a reason? What’s it going to take for you to call an end to this little party you’re having and come home?”

“Put him on the phone.” She wouldn’t be guilt-tripped. Not by Blake, not by anyone. She’d given Seth the choice and was no less of a mother for doing so.

“He locked himself in his room. Maybe now’s not a good time.”

“Then why’d you call me? Put him on the damn phone.”

Blake’s muffled voice convinced Seth to unlock the door and take the phone. The door slammed, and he came on.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Tell me you didn’t slam the door on your father.”

“He did it, not me!”

“Okay, okay.” She adopted the same soothing tone she’d used his whole life. “What I need from you is an explanation. What’s going on over there, Seth? Your dad said he’s having problems, and this isn’t like you. Talk to me.”

A dramatic groan. “First, promise I’m still going to London when they go on the honeymoon. It’s not fair I have to stay here.”

“Stay there? You can’t stay there if you wanted to. No one will be in town to take care of you.”

“Dad said if I didn’t go to Lewis’s tonight, he wouldn’t buy the plane ticket.”

A few beats passed. Dots refused to connect. “What’re you talking about?”

Seth groaned again, an impatient teenage groan he was welcome to outgrow any day. “Dad and Kira were supposed to go to a party tonight. Hunter stays with Kira’s sister, but I go to Lewis’s on the weekends. When I called, Lewis said his mom has the flu, and I can’t stay over. When I told Dad, he got mad and said I had to, or he wouldn’t send me to London.”

Quinn pulled the towel from her head and shook out her hair before it dried in the shape of a funnel, wrapped it around her body, and sat on the edge of the bed. “You’re joking, right? What about Aunt Em? Can you stay with her tonight?”

“She’s at a conference in San Francisco. Grandpa went, too.”

That explained the lack of sisterly phone calls lately.

“Dad said it was probably a cold, but it’s not like I can make her say yes. She’s been getting upset anyway because Lewis never stays over here anymore. Kira says no every time I ask.”

Quinn rubbed her forehead. “Okay, listen to me. You’re going to put your dad back on the line, but first, let me be clear, Seth. The next time you pull a stunt that requires the police to get involved, no matter how justified it seems, there will be consequences beyond losing video-game privileges. Got it?”

“Got it.” The confirmation was appropriately solemn.

More muffled sounds and a short pause brought Blake back on the line. “I hope you read him the riot act.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“What? Quinn, he—”

“Where in the hell do you get off judging me on my parenting? You threatened your own child because you can’t go out, which, unless Seth is a big, fat liar, is something you and Kira do every weekend. Lewis’s mother has the flu, Blake. The
flu
.” She paused to catch her breath.

Blake took the silence as an opportunity. “It’s not even flu season. Besides, you don’t know Kira when it comes to getting what she wants.”

A bitter chuckle escaped her. “Well, that’s odd. I believe I know better than most. I’ll admit I’m being selfish for once in my life, but you’re just being a bastard.”

“You’re overreacting.”

Her jaw worked, and she stood on unsteady limbs, trembling with ire. She wouldn’t do this any longer. Not to herself, not to her son. “You win, Blake. I’m done fighting. You don’t want him around, and he isn’t your biggest fan, either. When you buy his ticket don’t bother purchasing round-trip because he’s not coming back. Make sure your good-bye is the real deal, you understand? You won’t be seeing him again. You and Kira deserve each other. Neither of you is worthy of a kid like Seth.”