The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield (62 page)

I frowned. “Brandon Maxfield, don’t be mean like that! Jake’s your best friend and you know that he cares a lot about me and your sisters. I assure you that the Jake you remember from college is nowhere in attendance tonight. He’s as surly as a sentinel, scaring off troublemakers and doing his best to keep your sisters from getting sauced even at the risk of incurring bodily injury from them. He’s too busy watching over us to get drunk. We’ve been here almost three hours and he’s still holding the same beer bottle. It probably tastes like warm piss now.”

A pause and then Brandon roared out laughing.

I grinned. “Don’t worry, we’ve got it all under control, babe. We might even do a Cinderella and take off in our pumpkin carriage by midnight. There’s a small window when people turn from being amusingly drunk to an embarrassing spectacle. I’d prefer to skip the latter.”

His laughter slowed to soft chuckles. “I wish I’m there to see it. If there are any females who can manage Jake, you and my sisters would definitely be it.”

“Of course. We’re used to overbearing, autocratic males trying to manage us in vain,” I answered impishly, my eyes drawn to a fancy black town car that pulled up by the quiet side street. 

“Alright, I’ll trust you to extricate yourselves out of this party when you’ve had enough clean fun and before the cops come busting down the doors,” Brandon said with a resigned sigh. “I often forget that you’re young and that many of the things I remember from years ago in my life are things you’ve yet to experience yourself.”

I glanced again at the group of drunks by the end of the hallway as one of them slumped to the wall with a loud thud after stupidly letting his friends coax him to spin himself around without falling in a dizzy stumble. 

“Trust me. There are a lot of things I’m happy to miss,” I said wryly, turning my attention back to the town car sitting idly by the side street—probably waiting to pick up someone. “I don’t need to experience some very highly idiotic things myself to know that they’re a bad idea—like couch-surfing.”

Brandon laughed. “I’m glad I can rely on your sense of self-preservation, babe, whenever you find it convenient to prioritize it. Call me when you get home, okay?” 

“I’ll text you because you might be sleeping then and after the day you’ve had, I don’t want to disturb your rest,” I told him. 

“As if I can sleep now,” he retorted. “Just call me. Maybe after you slip under the sheets and the lights are off. I can describe to you in vivid detail the things I’d imagine myself doing to you.”

I felt myself flush even though Brandon couldn’t see it. “If you’re lucky. I’ll call, okay? But just to say good night and I love you. I’d rather you sleep with sweet dreams instead of blue balls.”

“Seeing to my comfort, as usual,” he said and I could picture out his grin. “Alright, enjoy the rest of the party. I’ll talk to you later. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

I was still smiling and staring down at Brandon’s sleeping face on his profile photo on my phone when a movement below by the street caught my eye. 

I saw a flash of leopard print and a glint of shiny hair caught by the light from the lamp posts that surrounded the side of the building.

My eyes narrowed. 

I’ve seen that feline print tonight—on someone appropriately catty.

I pressed up my nose against the glass as I watched Bessy look left and right before sauntering across the street like she was doing the catwalk (pun intended). 

The window in the backseat rolled down as she approached the car but I couldn’t see the person she was talking to. She leaned down, her arms braced against the roof of the car, her body stretched out provocatively.

After a few minutes, she stiffened and straightened away from the car, slinging on the metallic strap of her evening bag over her shoulder. Then she turned around and started walking away.

The car door opened and a man emerged, dressed in black, his stride purposeful, almost mechanic.

He grabbed her by the elbow and whipped her around to face him—and it wasn’t gentle.

I watched the drama unfold, Bessy playing hard to get as she turned her head this way and that, avoiding the man, but his grip on her elbow didn’t loosen one bit as he dragged her up against him, his other hand catching her voluminous hair and yanking it roughly to tilt her head up to him.

His face angled up and the light from the street lamps caught it.

I sucked in a breath.

Holy, bloody hell.

If there were thunderclouds sailing through the sky at night, you wouldn’t normally see them until lightning flashed. 

It felt the same way, recognizing Don LeClaire’s face, inches away from Bessy’s, who happened to be his wife’s cousin.

And if I had any doubt in my mind that their embrace was a little too intimate to be purely familial, it was demolished when he sank his mouth against hers and kissed her hard. And she seemed to be literally pouring herself into him by the way she locked her arms around his neck.

I blinked several times, hoping that it would somehow jar me out of this hallucination but it was like watching a train wreck in high definition.

The kiss lasted mere seconds before Don turned around and dragged Bessy behind him, heading for the car. 

He practically crammed her in through the door before getting in right after her.

I sat back, still reeling, hearing the blood rush to my ears as I watched the town car peel out of the shadows and drive off into the night.

Any way I looked at it, I couldn’t find any other possible conclusion other than Don LeClaire and Bessy Mitchell having an illicit affair. 

My stomach churned at the idea. 

Layla’s overly composed face and flat eyes as she stood next to her husband flashed in my mind. My heart tightened at the thought of the betrayal happening right under her nose.

Bessy Mitchell was my least favorite person in the world but I felt a strong pang of worry for her at the thought of her carrying on with a man who inspired not one iota of kindness in my mind. 

Two women—neither harboring any charitable feelings for me—caught in an ugly, treacherous web of deceit spun by a man who brought into mind spiders and scorpions and all things crawly and nightmare-inducing.

They say ignorance is bliss and I’ve always disagreed. Now, I see their point.

I sat there, still contemplating the situation, when louder than normal sounds started coming from Stacey’s unit. 

I bolted from the window and started racing down the hallway when the door of one of the two other units in this wing swung open and an angry-looking middle-aged woman poked her head out.

“I’ve had enough of your antics!” she screamed at us, drawing my attention and that of the drunks by the hallway. “I’m not putting up with this for another second! The cops are on their way, you morons!”

I winced as she slammed the door shut, barely pausing before rushing back inside the unit. 

I managed to jump back in time to avoid the limp body that crumpled on the floor just by the door right after I stepped inside.

The guy was doubled over, howling in pain and clutching his stomach, and looming over him, sweaty and murderous, was Jake, who was conveniently ignoring Tessa’s little fists that were pummeling his back as she yelled at him to stop.

“If you even dare breathe the air around her, I will dismember you,” Jake was saying to the man. “Do you understand?”

“He was just asking for my phone number, you madman!” Tessa was fairly shouting at him now. “You didn’t have to rearrange his organs for it!”

Jake glanced at her, eyes seething. “I rearranged them because he had a hand up your dress!”

I groaned and glanced around the room for Anna. She was sagged against the wall, watching the scene, smiling even if her gaze was slightly glazed and unfocused.

“As much as I would love to sit here and watch such a cliche scene unfolding in real life, we don’t have time,” I said loudly, clapping my hands to draw everyone’s attention. "The cops are on their way.”

Well. 

That was an expedient way to clear the room.

If only the mess ended there.

It was a rainy morning.

Despite getting home late last night—just a little over past midnight—and spending another hour on the phone with Brandon who refused to go to sleep without a long, hushed and intimate conversation—I was still wired.

The late-night phone call with Brandon relaxed me after my misadventures from the party, draining most of my adrenaline and replacing it with warm, comforting languor as he murmured achingly sweet things to me last night.

It felt odd that despite the physical distance separating us, we were more comfortable talking to each other in the dark, in different states, than we have been lately, despite being in the same room. It had been like that since the Nicole and Zach mystery cropped up.

In the dark, your troubles don’t show. If you can’t see them, you can pretend they’re not there, right?

We were practically half asleep when we finally hung up.

I drifted into slumber but it hadn’t been the least restful. I kept waking up in the middle of the night, acutely aware of the cold, empty spot next to me.

When the sunrise started to streak the sky with faint wisps of light, I tossed the covers off and got up.

Wearing nothing but a tank top, cotton pajamas and a navy blue cotton robe specked with dark red hearts, I padded barefoot to the kitchen and started the coffee machine, relieved to fill the too-quiet penthouse.

There were a lot of things to process from last night—the Jake and Tessa affair, the Don and Bessy affair—but I didn’t have the sleep-revived brain cells to deal with them at the moment.

Mindless little things I could do so I spent a good two hours sitting at my desk, doing correspondences and my other admin-like Mrs. Maxfield duties.

I’d just started to putter around in the kitchen so I could put some breakfast in my stomach when my cellphone sounded.

I frowned at the call display.

It was seven-twenty-four in the morning.

Even Brandon wouldn’t be up at this hour yet—not after the late night he had as well.

“Jake?” I asked. “What’s going on?”

“Did I wake you?” he asked. “You don’t sound like I just woke you up.”

“No, I’ve been up since five in the morning,” I told him, still puzzled. He didn’t drink much last night so he couldn’t be hung over but something about his voice was raspy and weak. “How about you? Why are you calling?”

He sighed loudly. “Can I come up and see you? I need to talk. I’m down at the lobby.”

Half-intrigued, half-worried, I told him to come up. 

While waiting, I continued to bustle around the kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee and start breakfast. From the way Jake sounded, we were both going to need it.

“Hey,” Jake greeted as he stepped inside, poking his head around and finally spotting me. “Good morning.”

I raised my brow at his attire—it was all the same clothes from last night’s party. His hair was disheveled, his green eyes tired and sporting dark shadows underneath, his jaw scruffier than it had been yesterday.

“I’m guessing you greeted the morning somewhere other than your own bed,” I said dryly. 

He blew a breath out and slumped on a stool by the breakfast bar across from me. “You could say that.”

“Do you want some coffee?” I asked. “I’m not sure if you need to stay up or sleep after we’re done this conversation.”

“I’ll have a cup of coffee.” He raked a hand through his hair and muttered, “I have slept a couple of hours—and another couple doing the best and worst thing of my life.”

I grimaced as I handed him a steaming cup of coffee and gestured to the the small creamer and sugar set. “Sounds ominous. Do I have to sit down for this? I don’t want to topple forward and fry my forehead on the griddle.”

That brought a small smile out of Jake although his eyes remained pensive. “It depends on how you look at it, really.”

I popped in two slices of bread into the toaster before flipping the eggs and bacon strips on the griddle. “Well, let’s hear it. I’m itching to know because I’ve never seen you like this before. I don’t know what could’ve happened between the time you dropped me off to fifteen minutes ago.”

“So that bet yesterday,” he started, drumming his fingers slowly on the counter. “I totally lost it.”

I couldn’t help cringing in disappointment. “Damn! Really? You were doing so well! I was rooting for you!”

“I slept with Tessa.”

And just like that, everything in the penthouse became silent—except for the crackling of the bacon and eggs on the griddle.

My eyes darted straight to Jake just as I remembered to snap my mouth shut.

Holy macaroni. The whole ‘Jake and Tessa affair’ was just an expression—not a premonition.

I grabbed my own cup of coffee and gulped down a good amount of it to overcome the sudden dryness in my throat.

Good Lord, I was hoping to make them fall in love—not fall in bed all in one night!

“Charlotte, listen,” Jake said as he set his elbows on the counter and leaned forward. “If you don’t want to listen to this, I’ll totally understand. This isn’t really your problem. And normally, this wouldn’t be anybody else’s business but mine and Tessa’s but I’m completely lost with what to do. I can’t call up my best friend because this is his baby sister we’re talking about.”

“He’ll kill you,” I croaked in agreement, imagining just how badly Brandon was going to take this news. “He’ll torture you and kill you slowly.”

Jake scoffed. “I wouldn’t expect anything less of him. I’d do the same to any guy who’d take advantage of Tessa.”

I set down my coffee and leveled him a look. “Except that the guy in question is you.”

“I know!” he groaned loudly, burying his face in his hands. “This is such an awful mess.”

I felt a pang of sympathy for Jake. For someone who just got laid, he didn’t look the least happy about it. If this had been another guy with Jake’s reputation, I wouldn’t be so understanding. I would probably assume the worst and predictably blame the man for seducing Tessa, although after meeting Brandon, I quickly realized seduction wasn’t a one-way thing at all.

I turned off the griddle and transferred the food into plates, pushing one toward Jake before I carried mine to the spot next to him on the breakfast bar. 

“I can tell that this isn’t as simple as it sounds,” I told him as I sat down. “While we eat, you can tell me exactly what happened—not the intimate details!—so that I can help you figure out what to do. I care about both you and Tessa, and I don’t want my husband murdering either of you, so we’re going to brainstorm on this once we know all the facts and come up with a plan.”

Jake lifted his face to look at me, his green eyes stormy. “Are you sure you want to get involved in this mess? Brandon isn’t going to be pleased to know you know about this when he doesn’t.”

I sighed. “As much as I hate this line because it’s been overused as an excuse whenever convenient, what Brandon doesn’t know won’t hurt him—unless there are extenuating circumstances.”

Jake furrowed his brows. “Like what?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe if you got her pregnant or something. My goodness, Jake. I thought you’re the expert on all of this.”

“I was,” he said with a grimace. “And that’s really the problem, isn’t it?”

“What are you talking about?” I shook my head in confusion. “Okay, you’ve got to start from the beginning because I’m neither a mind-reader nor a novelist with a talent at plots.”

“Alright, alright,” Jake relented, exhaling sharply and leaning against the low back of the stool. “I dropped you off first, and then Anna, and Tessa was last because the route made sense.”

Tessa and Anna used to share an apartment near the university but when Anna started her affair with Jason, which Tessa openly disapproved of, she moved out and into a place of her own.

“She was tipsy and staggering on her heels so I took them off and carried her to her apartment,” he continued, his voice catching with emotion. 

If this had been a casual fling, Jake wouldn’t bat an eye at this.

“She was still grumpy at me—God knows why—and she was scowling, but in that adorable way, you know?” he said. 

I didn’t really know but I had an idea. Kinda like when Brandon looks all brooding and serious and instead of intimidating me, it made the butterflies in my stomach flutter.  “Seeing her mad was a little disorienting—hell, everything she was doing last night was disorienting,” Jake grumbled before he stuffed a forkful of egg in his mouth. 

He chewed silently for a minute—and I thought maybe it was because he didn’t want to talk with his mouth full, but at the look on his face, he seemed to be analyzing something complicated and fascinating.

“I mean, the dress, her killer legs, her eyes, her damned lips—I constantly felt like I was getting punched in the gut every time I looked at her.” Jake sounded annoyed but it was amusing because it was obvious he was feeling things he didn’t want to feel. “One moment, she was Tessa, whom I’ve known most of my life, and the next she’s this... this... siren, beckoning me—and every other damned male in that party.”

A few hundred questions were hovering at the tip of my tongue but I didn’t want to direct the conversation. It would be better for Jake to come to his own conclusions, no matter how much it surprised both of us.

“So, yeah, maybe I was a little bit overprotective,” he admitted without a hint of remorse. “Someone had to be if she was going to get through that party without every panting male’s filthy hands on her.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to hold in a smile. “Overprotective might not be the right word. Possessive is more like it.”

Jake rolled his eyes in irritation. “Overprotective, possessive—call it whatever you like. The goal was the same and it was to look after Tessa. And I explained all of that to her last night when I set her down inside her apartment. She didn’t agree with me and started tearing a strip off me.”

He took a deep breath and ran a hand down his face, rubbing his roughened jaw. “We started arguing because I wanted her to understand. I don’t quite remember how we went from fighting to kissing to scrambling to her bed.”

His expression softened, his gaze tender as a faint smile pulled up one corner of his mouth. “It’s completely unexpected but that was the best sex of my life.”

“The best, huh?” I asked wryly. “In all of your experience, which everyone knows is vast.”

“It might have something to do with the fact that it was Tessa,” he answered bluntly. “We fell asleep soon after that and I don’t even cuddle afterwards. But with her, I didn’t want to go anywhere. I would’ve been happy to stay in bed with her all day. That was my moment of epiphany, I think.”

Jake groaned softly and briefly closed his eyes. “I woke up before she did and I spent, I don’t know, maybe a good half hour just staring at her. But she stirred and when she realized what we’d done, she jumped off the bed like she couldn’t get away from me fast enough, and told me to leave. She said it was a mistake—a glorious one, which she shared responsibility with me—but it was to be never repeated.”

Oh, Tessa. 

“I told her I didn’t want to leave,” Jake continued, his voice now rougher with agitation. “I told her I wanted to stay and figure it out with her. And she told me there was nothing to figure out. That I should just tally it up with my other one-night-stands and forget about it.”

He turned to me with an angry expression. “Can you believe her? Where in the world did she get the idea that I was going to make love to her and then write her off?”

I mentally noted Jake’s use of make love, and shrugged at his question. “Probably from the common knowledge that you do have a history of casual flings long enough to fill a ledger. She’s seen you date a little too casually over the years, Jake. She hasn’t seen evidence yet of the opposite to make her think of you wanting something different from her.”

Jake stared into space, mulling this over as he nibbled on a piece of toast while I silently went on with my breakfast, giving him the time he needed.

After several moments passed, he glanced at me. “You know, before I met you I wasn’t really prone to romantic attachments. I was dazzled by you—I imagine the same way anyone would be if they tilted their heads up to the sun. I wanted a little bit of that light for myself. It made me realize that I could have that—that I could have more than the temporary pleasures I’d sought from women.”

I kept silent because I didn’t know where Jake was going. He was in my kitchen, pouring his heart out about Tessa, and apparently detouring with a flashback on his previous infatuation with me. It made me nervous because I so wanted him to be over that stage but I held on to hope because he wasn’t looking at me like he once did.

“Then whenever I saw you and Brandon, it made me think of just how amazing it could be if I found something like the two of you did. Hell, the two of you could sell marriage to the most hardened cynics,” he went on. “Seeing what you had—that opened my mind. And my heart too, I guess. And I’ve looked. I’ve made myself accessible to the possibility. I know tons of women. I stopped holding them at arm’s length like I used to. I wanted to fall in love. To make the plunge.”

I smiled at him as he grew more animated with his admission. “Last night, or this morning, being with her and having her in my arms, was the first time I felt like something altered for good in me. It was with the last person I expected to feel this way about. And I don’t want to just let it go when it could possibly turn out to be the best thing in my life. But she doesn’t want me. And I don’t know know what to do.”