Reunion for the First Time (18 page)

“All right.” She stepped aside, let him pass and closed the door. “I was just watching the parade. Give me a minute and I’ll change my clothes.”

“Sure smells good in here.” He shrugged out of his coat and laid it over the back of a chair. “Let’s watch the end of the parade together. I’ll take a slice of that bread and give me some of that hot chocolate, too.” His head nodded toward the pot of chocolate milk on the stove, and he leaned back against the counter in the galley kitchen, making himself at home.

Lizzie prickled at the wait-on-me implication, was about to pour the chocolate in an automatic hostess response when she dropped her hand from the pot handle and whirled on him, “I am not in the mood for this, Wallace. I didn’t invite you here, and you didn’t ask me if you could come. I think you should leave.”

His face pained, “Don’t throw me out, please. I had a depressing week.”

Exasperated, she’d hear him out since she didn’t know what else to do with him. “I’ll bite. What happened?”

“I lost the bid for the building here. I found out yesterday.”

“That’s too bad. Surely there’ll be other projects.”

“I put all my efforts for the last few months into it, and then I’m beaten again by JP Hamilton. The GC building would really have made a difference to my company. Father is very disappointed to say the least.”

Someone mentioned the GC building to her recently.
Jack.

“I wanted to win this bid in Chicago for a more personal reason.” He squeezed her hand. “I really wanted to be here often to be closer to you.”

So he could drop in uninvited and have her wait on him?
Lizzie freed her hand from his grip. What the hell did Wallace want with her?

What did it matter what he wanted? She didn’t have to settle for Wallace’s scraps of attention. Jack’s memorable kisses and the world of sensations they stirred inside her had opened her eyes to the possibilities. He might not want a lasting relationship with her, but he treated her with consideration, he desired her. She not only didn’t have to settle, she wouldn’t.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t want to be closer to you, Wallace.” Lizzie folded her arms across her chest. “I’d really like you to leave now.”

“What are you saying?” He walked toward her closing the distance and held her by the backs of her arms, as if about to shake her.

Twisting sharply, she broke his hold and backed a few feet away toward the hallway in front of the kitchen leaving him by the stove at the far end of the narrow room. “You left for Europe without a word. I buried my parents without my fiancé at my side. You said you wanted to marry me. Do you have
any
idea how badly you hurt me?” Her breath came in gasps and her voice rose in fury.

Lizzie spied Marty skulking into the bedroom, tail between her legs.

“I already apologized for my behavior then. You’re the one hurting me now. You and that Jack Clark.” He stood straighter, his hand clutched against his midriff. “JP Hamilton takes great pleasure winning what is rightfully mine.”

“What are you talking about? Who is JP Hamilton?”

“Clark’s architectural firm.” Wallace reared back and forth, laughing. “You didn’t know. Maybe you should dig a little deeper into his motives for romancing you. He’s obviously using you by hiding his relationship with my firm.”

Confused and out of patience, Lizzie faced him, hands on her hips, “I’ve heard enough. I’m over you, Wallace. It’s over. Please leave.”

Gone were the array of benign expressions he’d plied to get in her door, poor forlorn, pained Wallace. Now a red blush rushed up his neck, over his cheeks and already thin lips tightened in a menacing line. She edged away as he rushed forward and pinned her against the wall. Trapped, this new person in front of her scared her.

“I’ll tell you when it’s over. There’s no way Jack Clark is going to have it all.” He yanked her arms over her head and crushed her lips with his.

Smothered, Lizzie fought to breathe, straining her neck muscles to break away from the invasion of his mouth as panic mounted and her heart beat erratically. She brought her knee up with force between his legs. He let her loose and doubled over, clutching himself.

She raced to the door, swung it wide and screamed, “Get out of here!”

Wallace slowly stood and glared at her with eyes that blazed with anger. “How dare you assault me, Elizabeth? It is
not
over.” The anger in his eyes turned darker as he leered at her. “I will not permit him to use you against me.”

“Get out.” She stayed on the other side of the door in the outer hallway, hoping he wouldn’t notice her shaking. No neighbor had responded to her shout, and she wouldn’t go back into her apartment to attempt a call to security. She clamped her arms tight against her sides, her mind spinning out an exit strategy. If she could race inside the elevator first, she could push the alarm button.

Never taking those malicious eyes off her, he grabbed his coat and stalked forward, past her as if she were invisible.

As soon as he cleared the doorframe, she jumped back into the room and slammed the door shut. Panting, she leaned against the wall, exhausted from fright and confusion.

Wallace’s motives for using her were unclear. And apparently Jack hadn’t been honest either. Were both men setting her up as some sort of prize? No. After all, Charlie had arranged for Jack to go to her reunion with her. Charlie would never play games with her emotions. Would Jack? Why wasn’t he upfront about knowing Wallace?

The telephone rang, and she let the call go to her answer machine. “Happy Thanksgiving, Beth.” Jack’s voice filled the room. She sucked in her breath. “I hope you have a nice day. Charlie tells me you’re heading out tomorrow. I’ll see you when you get back. I’ll be missing you. Travel safe. Bye.”

The tape stopped with a click. “Who are you, Jack Clark? And why should I believe you’ll miss me?”

Chapter Sixteen

Jack missed Lizzie. She had been gone a little over a week, but it seemed longer to him. Everywhere he turned, he found reminders of her. The city streets he used to stride down unaware of his surroundings, now reminded him of walks with her. He wanted to stroll and think about her nestling close to him for warmth.

The number of times he sat back at his drafting table that week and thought of her sweetness surprised him because before meeting Lizzie he had always lost himself in his work.

He concentrated on pushing mental images of her aside. But it didn’t work.

Even during the time-honored male ritual of watching Sunday football with Charlie, Beth sat beside him in his mind. It didn’t help that his brother never shut up about her. And Jack found that he liked to listen to the superlatives Charlie attached to her.

Without a word about Beth during Jack’s visits, her presence would still be felt in the brownstone. There were pictures of her everywhere.

Charlie’s home was nothing like the musty dungeon it had been a few months ago. He had hired a housekeeper. Polished surfaces and immaculate floors gleamed. Open drapes let in sunlight or moonlight and a lemony smell permeated the air.

Framed photographs abounded in every room downstairs. All of them included Mari and most also included Beth Moran. Jack didn’t remember seeing them on mantels or on the piano when he had visited prior to Mari’s death. But it was a big deal to Jack that Charlie now wanted ever-present reminders of Mari to surround him.

Thank God things had changed. There was even half-decent food to eat while watching Sunday games.

Jack couldn’t banish the memory of Beth’s excitement when he had watched the game with her or the creative insults she concocted for referees and rivals.

After work that day, he stopped by Lou’s for takeout, and Rae spotted him at the counter.

“Hey handsome,” she greeted him. “Where’s your lady? Do you have a minute? I want you to sign something for me.” She hurried, as much as her body would allow, to the back of the store.

Grinning, she thrust an eight by ten glossy into his hand. It was the photo Beth had taken of him and Rae together. “Beth brought this by the store a couple of weeks ago. Isn’t it pretty? You’ve got to sign it for me, and I’m hanging it on the wall here. My manager gave me the OK. You are, after all, a famous architect.”

Jack laughed but took the pen she handed him, when he realized she was serious. “I’ve never been asked for my autograph before.”

He signed his name and handed the print back to her. “It’s the first time, and I’m pretty sure the last time, too.”

Inside the cab on the way home, he thought about Rae’s reference to Beth as his lady.
His.
Jack didn’t want to wait until the charity ball to see her again. He dialed her home number on his cell phone to leave her a message.

“Hey, Beth. It’s Jack. Welcome home. I’m not sure when you’re returning but if you can, please come with me for pizza on Saturday night. Or if you don’t want pizza, we’ll go anywhere you like. If you say yes, think of this as our first official date. I hope you say yes. Miss you.”

Satisfied with the message, he pocketed his phone. He wanted a date with her. Maybe, by example, Charlie had turned the tables on Jack. You don’t always have to hide in your house in a bathrobe to be cut off from living. Beth opened up something inside him that had been locked away too long. He was done with helping her get Wally back. The jerk would never deserve a woman like her. He wasn’t sure he did either, but he wanted her for himself. He’d deal with what that meant later.

****

The Freedom Center project was going so well, Jack, always prepared to deal with inevitable snags in projects this size, didn’t trust the good luck to last. The blueprints were approved and the myriad of permits issued in record-breaking time. He figured the mayor’s office had a great deal to do with it.

Boston’s highest official’s clout had Jack perusing the lunch menu at the mayor’s male members only club to discuss plans for the groundbreaking ceremony—instead of defending his plans to city bureaucrats as he supposed he’d be doing during this trip.

Jack enjoyed the one-on-one lunch and the mayor’s genial disposition. Relaxing over coffee Jack spotted Wallace Prescott being seated with his party on the other side of the room. Engrossed in his own conversation, Prescott hadn’t noticed Jack. The last thing Jack wanted to do was spar with Wally in front of the mayor.

****

Wallace liked to room scan. It didn’t take him long to spot Jack, although he did nothing about it at first. He watched Jack kowtow to the mayor.

Who does he think he is coming to my club and rubbing his success in my face? He thinks he can best me? Not in everything.

He waited until he saw Jack toss his napkin on the table before he excused himself from his table and crossed the room.

Jack was on his feet talking with the mayor when Wallace cleared his throat and tapped Jack on the shoulder to interrupt.

“Excuse me, Mister Mayor, but Clark and I are friendly competitors, aren’t we Clark?” Prescott beamed in his honor’s direction.

“That we are, Prescott.” Jack shook Wallace’s hand with a wry half-smile. “So, Wally, how’s it hanging?”

Heat rose under Wallace’s collar at the use of the abhorred nickname in front of the mayor of his city. But he wouldn’t let this peacock get the best of him.

“Fine, fine. No need to ask you the same. I know things are going well for you. Last time I saw Elizabeth, I believe she mentioned as much.”

I don’t know what you are to her, Clark. But I’ll teach her to injure me.

With a confidential air, he leaned toward the mayor, and locked eyes with Jack. “Clark and I have a mutual friend. Well, actually, she and I were much more than friends. Recently we’ve been reunited. About the same time I lost a couple of bids to your firm. Strange that you link up with my old girlfriend when we’re in a bidding war, Clark. Don’t you think that’s strange, Mister Mayor?”

The politician regarded Wallace blankly, “If you say so.” He turned his head toward Jack, “What is this all about, Jack?”

****

On high alert, Jack squinted at Wallace. What was this asshole trying to pull? “Yes, we do have a mutual friend.”

“Indeed we do.” Wallace chuckled, damned near a witch’s cackle. “I have to watch what I say during pillow talk if we’re ever bidding against each other again.”

Jack’s muscles strained, hands reflexively balled into fists itching to jab the smug bastard in the face. With effort, he relaxed his fingers. Mastering his reaction to this bombshell took all of Jack’s self-control. Pillow talk? What the hell is that all about?

I’m out of here
.

“We have an appointment. I’ll give Beth your regards.” He strode past Prescott and the mayor followed beside him.

But Wally pressed on. “Yes, indeed.” He walked along with Jack and the mayor, positioning himself in the middle of the two men. “I think she might have mentioned you fondly while we were watching the parade together at her place on Thanksgiving Day. So adorable in her flannel pajamas.”

Prescott raised his eyebrows and glared at Jack dead-eyed, daring him to pry loose the symbolic stake of male dominance he had just rammed home.

Beth was alone with Wallace in her condo?
While he was missing her? In her pajamas?
What an ass I am.

He kept a bland expression on his face as he tried to shake Prescott off. “That’s nice to hear, Wally.”

“Strange, though,” Wallace continued. “She didn’t know that we were competitors. Don’t you think that’s strange, JP?”

“Again.” Jack emphasized the word so there was no mistaking the finality. “Good to see you.”

The mayor kept pace with Jack’s determined stride out of the room.

****

The encounter with Prescott was a lasting annoyance. Jack regretted the date invitation he had extended to Beth earlier in the week and almost cancelled it. As he had increasingly enjoyed Beth’s company, he had forgotten her history with Wally. Stupid, but Jack had hoped he made her forget Prescott. Had Prescott accused him of being a shady businessman? It sure had sounded like it. That alone would disturb Jack, but even more disturbing was that Prescott made it sound like Beth was involved. As if Jack needed anybody’s help in securing bids away from Prescott.