Stacey Joy Netzel Boxed Set (24 page)

Not wanting to bother him, she eased toward
the counter, hoping for a quiet moment to reveal her presence.
She’d only take a few minutes and then head back to the restaurant.
Maybe invite him to have a drink on her break?

No. Definitely desperate.
Damn
, she
should leave.

Only he’d started explaining the history of
an old pistol to the man at the counter and his smooth baritone
flowed over her. Weak-willed, she paused to listen and found
herself covertly admiring the snug fit of his gray knit sweater
over his muscled chest and arms.

Faded jeans were a surprise—she’d never seen
him in jeans before—but as he turned to snag a calculator from a
shelf behind him, she decided surprises could be good.

Very,
very
good.

A rustle of papers underscored by the scrape
of a chair sounded from the office behind the counter.

“Damn it, Jake, are you kidding me?”

Loral’s eyebrows rose at the faceless,
annoyed voice emanating from inside the office. The man who’d
spoken came to stand in the open doorway. Jake finished his
conversation with his customer, wished the man happy holidays as he
walked away empty handed, then turned toward the door.

“Roger, not in front of my customers,” Jake
warned in a low voice Loral barely heard.

Roger was his brother, she remembered. She
tried to get a better look at the guy without appearing like an
obvious spy, but Jake’s wide shoulders blocked her view.

“You’re sixteen hundred short in the
register,” Roger accused.

Loral’s heart skipped a beat. Sixteen
hundred? That figure couldn’t be a coincidence.

“My shop, my money,” Jake snapped. “And
there’s a payment slip right there, so nothing’s missing.”

“Except your common sense!”

“Just drop it. We can talk about this
later.”

“You don’t have an extra sixteen hundred to
be buying—” there was a pause and another rustle of paper
“—
costume jewelry
?”

The last two words were spoken with
disgusted disbelief. But Loral focused more on the fact that Jake’s
brother was upset he’d bought
her
jewelry.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid,” Jake
stated in a furious undertone. He shot a quick glance around and
Loral ducked behind a curio cabinet.

“They’re good pieces. And not that I have to
defend my business decisions to you, but I’m in the middle of a
deal that’s going to bail me out and turn everything around. So,
you do what you have to do with the books, and I’ll worry about
keeping my doors open.”

“You better not screw it up then because at
this point, you won’t make it past the end of the month.”

Jake was in financial trouble?

Loral blinked in shock. Her face burned
before a flash of cold doused her, leaving her chilled to the bone.
Not even the leather jacket could help, but she she didn’t leave
it, either. Then he’d know she’d been there and no way did she want
to see him now.

She backed away, careful to stay behind
cabinets and displays that would shield her from his view.

There was only one reason he’d buy her
jewelry if he couldn’t afford to. Her pride rebelled at the
humiliating evidence of his charity.

“Just what the hell is this?”

Jake covered his cell phone and turned to
look at his brother. But he didn’t have to look at the faxed
invoice quaking in Roger’s fist to know what he was talking about.
Two days ago they’d argued over his purchase of Loral’s jewelry.
Obviously, his assurances that he knew what he was doing meant
nothing to Roger. Then again, this purchase was even larger than
the last one.

Raising a hand to hold him off, Jake spoke
into his cell phone. “I need it by Christmas Eve.”

There was a slight pause on the other end.
“Well, yes Sir, that can be arranged. However it’ll probably cost
extra.”

“How much more?”

“Uh...I’ll have to add an extra five
hundred.”

“Whatever you need to charge is fine, as
long as you can get it here by tomorrow.”

Roger started to sputter, but Jake turned
his back.

“Call me as soon as it’s done and I’ll give
you my credit card to overnight it.”

The moment he disconnected his phone, Roger
exploded. “You can’t afford FedEx, let alone whatever the hell
you’re buying! Have you even fixed your car yet?”

“No.”

“You mean you’re still riding public
transportation?” his brother asked with disgust.

“So what? People do it every day.”

“No one I want to know,” Roger muttered.

Jake thought of Loral and his back
stiffened. Where in the hell had his brother gotten his snobbish
attitude from? Maybe their father hadn’t been around to teach them
much of anything, but their mother had been the kindest soul,
respectful of everyone, no matter their fortune in life. Roger may
have succeeded beyond anyone else in the family, but it didn’t make
him better.

Before he could give his brother a
long-time-coming piece of his mind, Roger said, “Listen, I can spot
you a couple grand—that ought to cover the deductible on the car
and this month’s mortgage on the shop—but after that you’re on your
own. I’m not going to be your personal bank.”

The offer was condescending and insulting.
Suddenly, Jake knew exactly how Loral had felt when he’d offered
her a loan. Pride, that nasty little thing he’d told her she needed
to work on, reared up like an angry rattlesnake.

“I don’t need your money,” he bit out.

“No? This past week alone you bought more
than you sold all month. And now you’re spending again.”

Jake gritted his teeth in frustration. Fine,
maybe he needed it, but he sure as hell didn’t want it. Not from
Roger.

He scrubbed a weary hand over his face and
was surprised for a moment at the rasp of stubble on his chin.
Shit
. He should go home and shave before his dinner meeting
but relying on the bus meant there’d be no time. Of course, if
dinner went as planned, the scruff wouldn’t make one bit of
difference and this entire argument would be irrelevant. Wouldn’t
Roger be surprised then?

He brushed past his brother, striding to the
front of the shop to lock up even though it was only six-thirty.
“Relax, Roger, I’ve got everything under control.”

Roger dogged his heels and shoved the paper
in his hand under Jake’s nose. “You call this under control?”

He pushed it away without looking at the two
thousand dollar balance due and flipped the Open sign to Closed.
“That’s called doing the right thing. Do you remember what that
means?”

Roger sneered. “Yeah, throw that in my face
again. Mortgaging the shop for mom’s medical bills was your choice.
If you’d done what I said, you’d be free and clear right now
instead of drowning in debt.”

Red-hot rage exploded inside Jake as he
rounded on his brother. He fisted his hands in his custom-tailored
suit and shoved him up against a tall, Victorian era dresser. A
circa 1920 Gabriel Argy-Rousseau vase tumbled off the top and
shattered on the floor. The splintered glass matched Jake’s
emotions.

“If I’d done what you said, mom would’ve
spent her last days in an overburdened, state-run hospital with
minimal care instead of the comfort of her own bed. You and dad may
have abandoned her, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to. All I can
say is thank
God
she never realized what a selfish prick you
are before she died. It’d have broken her heart.”

After one final shove, Jake ripped the paper
from Roger’s hand and walked away before he did any more
damage.

By the time he reached the restaurant, he’d
reined his emotions under control and tucked them back in the far
corners of his heart. He didn’t like them out in the open for
people to see, especially not his cold-hearted brother.

The hostess sat him for his reservation, and
then five minutes later, he rose to his feet with a warm smile when
his dinner guest was shown to the table. She wore a classic little
black dress that would never go out of style, and she was almost as
beautiful as her daughter.

Jake stood to take her coat and pull out her
chair. “Clara, you look lovely. I’m pleased you could make it.”

“I wish I could say the same,” she replied,
folding her hands primly in her lap over her purse. Her smile was
polite, but not sincere like it’d been last week at the apartment.
“Lucky for you, Mr. Coburn, you were just mysterious enough on the
phone to pique my interest.”

So that’s how it was. Evidently, Loral and
her mother were both pissed at him. His gaze narrowed and he
tensed. “Does Loral know about our meeting tonight?”

“Of course not, she’s working right now. You
think I’d tell my daughter that you called
me
when she jumps
every time the darn phone rings? No, Jake, I actually care about
her feelings.”

Relief was swift. “Good.” As Clara’s
expression tightened, Jake added, “This will all be clear very
soon, I promise.”

“It’s pretty clear now.”

“Not even close,” he muttered, removing his
napkin from his plate. As he shook it out and laid it on his lap,
he asked, “Did you bring the photo?”

Reluctant curiosity replaced motherly
reproach. Clara retrieved an envelope from her purse, withdrew the
picture of her grandparents standing on the dock with the Titanic
in the background and handed it to Jake. He felt her watching him
as he pulled a magnifying glass from his pocket and held it to the
picture for closer inspection.

Raising his gaze, nothing could’ve held back
his smile.

“What is it?” Clara asked, leaning
closer.

He slid the photo across the table and
offered the magnifying glass. “Look at the brooch on Patricia’s
shawl.”

She examined it, and then lifted her
shoulders. “It’s the dragonfly.”

Jake reached into his suit pocket and set
the dragonfly he’d bought from Loral on the table next to the
picture. Even in the subdued lighting of the restaurant, rubies,
blue sapphires, emeralds and diamonds glittered in the antique
platinum setting.

“I need to return this to you.”

Clara transferred her gaze from the brooch
to him, a confused frown marring her brow. “I don’t understand.
Loral said she sold it to you. You paid for it, right?”

“Yes, but now I need you to buy it
back.”

“Why?”

Jake studied her, wondering if she was as
prideful as her daughter. There was too much riding on this; he
couldn’t chance it. “I need the money. I never should’ve bought it
in the first place.”

Clara’s gaze shifted pointedly from his
suit, to the fine linen and fancy place settings on the table, and
then around the lavish décor of Benito’s restaurant. “Try again,
young man.”

He swallowed hard and ignored the thump of
his heart to quietly say, “I swear on my mother’s grave I am not
lying to you.”

Her eyes widened. She stared at him for a
long moment and he held her gaze without trying to hide anything.
Finally, her attention dropped to the dragonfly. She reached to
pick it up, holding the brooch in her palm while tracing the
delicate, latticed wings with her thumb.

“How much did you pay Loral?”

“One thousand dollars.”

Her fingers trembled as she set the jewelry
down and lowered her hands to her lap. “Jake, I’d love to help you,
but I don’t know if…”

She trailed off with despair, and then her
lashes lifted to show him every bit of her renewed confusion. “Why
would you pay that much if you couldn’t afford it?”

He gave her a gentle smile. “I’m a sucker
for blue eyes.”

The instant flash of pride in her eyes and
stiffening of her back confirmed he’d said the right thing.

“Will you take a check?”

“Unfortunately, I need that in cash.
However, I know the owner and he assured me
they’d
be happy
to take your check.”

“How very kind of Luca,” she muttered.

He signaled their waitress as Clara jerked
out her checkbook.

“You were very sure of yourself.”

If she had any clue exactly how unsure and
nervous he’d been she’d be laughing right now. As it was, he still
anticipated more than a few tense moments before the evening was
over. He remained silent as she wrote the check, ripped it out, and
thrust it at the waitress. The woman inspected the check, and then
counted out ten one hundred dollar bills onto the table as he’d
prearranged.

Clara glared at him as she shoved the money
toward him. Once the waitress left, she clutched her purse in a
white-knuckled grip and spoke in a low, angry voice. “I’m thankful
now that you didn’t call Loral. You don’t deserve her.”

Jake did his best to ignore the hurtful
words and tucked the cash in his inside breast pocket. While
withdrawing a piece of paper from the same pocket, Clara snatched
up the dragonfly and pushed back her chair to stand.

He leaned forward, hand extended. “Clara,
please—”

“Mr. Coburn,” the hostess interrupted. “The
rest of your party has arrived.”

Clara hesitated, and thankfully, remained in
her seat as Jake said, “Give us a few minutes, please, before you
show Mr. Harper back.”

“What’s going on?” Clara asked with
suspicion.

He handed her the paper in his hand as the
hostess retreated. “I’m hoping you’ll sign this.”

Perched on the edge of her chair, she opened
the tri-folded document and quickly skimmed the contents. Her frown
returned. “What is this?”

“That is an agreement that allows me to act
as your broker in the sale of the dragonfly brooch for a fee of ten
percent of the negotiated sale price.”

The contract received a more thorough read,
though it was quite straightforward.

“Time’s up, Clara,” he said softly. “Make
your decision; Mr. Harper is here.”