The Running Series Complete Collection: 3-Book Set plus Bonus Novella (137 page)

I quickly open my laptop and do a search for Baccarat Christmas ornaments.  My momentary hope is quickly wiped out when I find that each ornament is worth only a few hundred dollars.  The entire collection is worth no more than two thousand.

Fuck.
I should have known he paid more than they’re worth.  That’s the whole point of a charity auction.

I take out my frustration on the first thing I see.  I grab the glass of cranberry juice sitting on the desk and throw it against the wall.  “Fuck!” I scream as I throw and break anything I can get my hands on – my phone, paperwork, picture frames, a cup of pens and pencils – all go flying across the room.

As the adrenaline leaves my body, I break down into sobs.  Heavy, heaving, blubbering sobs.  My hands are shaking uncontrollably and I cannot control my body’s reaction.  I fall to the floor, unable to stand.

The door bursts open and Derek rushes in, his eyes frantic when he sees the red liquid dripping down the wall and shattered glass everywhere.  He runs to my side, grabs my hands and searches for cuts and injuries.  “Jette, what happened?  Are you okay?”

I can’t answer him, so he wraps his arms around me and holds me as I cry uncontrollably.  Derek is so good to me, much better than I deserve.  He looks around and finds a box of tissues on the table beside the couch.  He reaches over with his long arms and grabs it, handing me first one, then two tissues.  He brushes the hair off my face and I do the best I can to calm down, blow my nose, and wipe away the tears as they continue to flow. 

My bawling slows, and Derek gingerly lifts me and places me on my couch as he gets up and begins to clean up my mess.  When I see him collecting the papers strewn around the room I panic.  “No!  Stop!”  I can’t let him see that picture.  He can’t see it.  Ever.

Frantically, I run around the room collecting paper after paper until I find it.  Derek watches me apprehensively as I snap up the photo and stuff it into the top drawer of my desk.  With trembling hands, I grab another tissue and blow my nose.  The fog begins to clear and I can see with clearer eyes the mess I’ve made.  I can also see Derek’s concern.  I’ve frightened him.  Hell, I’ve frightened myself too.

“Derek, I’m so sorry you had to see me like that.  It’s okay now.  I’ll be all right.” 

“Jette, sit down.  I don’t know what just happened, but I will find out.  I’m coming back with a glass of ice water for you and a bucket to clean this mess.”  He walks out of my office, turns back, and offers one final thought before disappearing.  “And by the way, if I don’t get some answers, I’m calling Mac.”

Fuck a duck.

When he comes back, he hands me the glass of water and begins cleaning up my mess.  He doesn’t ask any questions.  Not yet.  But I know it’s coming.  Derek sweeps up the broken shards of glass while I wipe the cranberry juice off the wall with warm, soapy water.

It took less than sixty seconds to create the mess, and it takes nearly fifteen minutes to clean it.  We finish just as the rest of the crew begins to arrive for their shift.  Reese sticks her head in to say hello and quickly retreats when she sees Derek with me.

When the last piece of paper is picked up and the other desktop items are returned to their proper places, Derek closes the office door and takes a seat on the couch.  It’s confession time.  I have to come clean, but there’s no need to tell him any more than he needs to know.

Slowly, I piece together an explanation about how I’m having trouble paying my bills and how I received an unwanted invitation to see my ex-boyfriend in Indianapolis.  I tell him I overreacted because I don’t want Evan to think that I’m incapable of running a business or that I’m untrustworthy.  Derek listens attentively and carefully considers my narrative.

“So you threw a tantrum because business is slow and because someone you dated in college sent you a letter.  Is that right?”  Derek is looking at me in a way that tells me he’s not buying what I’m trying so hard to sell.

In a shaky voice, I answer him.  “Yes.”

“Okay, then.  Show me the letter.  Or whatever you shoved in that drawer that you didn’t want me to see.”  He leans back on the couch, waiting for my response. 

Shit.

I can’t show him the thank you card.  He’ll want to know more.  I can’t show him the Post-it note. He’ll want to know what the deal is.  I’m fucked.  “I can’t show you, Derek.”

“Can’t or won’t?”  Derek leans his elbows on his knees and watches me carefully.

“Both.”

“Fine.  Have it your way.”  Derek reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone, swiping through his contacts, looking for Evan’s phone number.

“Derek, wait.  There’s more.”  He puts the phone down and waits.  “But if I tell you, you have to swear that you won’t tell Evan, no matter what.  The playoffs are just a few weeks away and every member of his team is counting on him.  He can’t know about this.  Got it?”

“I can’t promise you that, Jette.  If you’re caught up in something dangerous, I’ll have to tell him.  He has a right to know.”

“I swear.  My ex-boyfriend David would never hurt me –
physically
.  It’s not like that.  He has videos of me that were taken during our private times together and now he’s threatening to sell them to the press unless I’m willing to buy them from him.  He sent me a picture of one of the worst frames and it’s ... disgusting.”  I exhale loudly.  I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath.

“Can I see it?  How bad is it?”

I cover my face with my hands.  I can’t look at him.  “It’s bad, Derek.”

He walks to my desk, peels my hands from my face, and looks at me.  “Show me.” 

I shake my head. 

“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you.  Show me,” he demands.

He means it.  I have no choice.  Reluctantly I open the drawer and, without looking up, I slide the picture across the desk toward him.  He takes one look at the photo and I can see the shock register on his face.  I am beyond humiliated.  Five seconds is all he needs to process what he’s looking at.  I snatch the photo from him and shove it back into my desk.

“Happy?” I ask.  “Now you know.  There’s nothing you can do to help.  It’s my problem.”  I can feel the tears threatening to break through, so I take slow, calming breaths, hoping desperately to keep them at bay, at least until I’m alone again.

“How much?” he asks. 

I don’t answer.  I can’t answer, even if I wanted to – which I don’t. 

He stands up and snarls, “I asked you how much,” pounding his hands on my desk.

I whisper.  “Ten thousand.”

“When?”

“Saturday, one week.”

“Do you have it?”

I shake my head.

“It’s done.  You’ll have the money Monday morning.” 

I can feel the tears threatening to break free again.  “Derek, I can’t.  You can’t.”

“See, here’s the thing.  I can.  And you will.”

Day Late and a Dollar Short

A
fter today’s game, Evan and I drive home together.  The Sentinels won today against the Pittsburgh Steelers.  He’s just accomplished something no one dared to imagine possible – he’s just clinched his spot in the playoffs.  Win or lose next week, this amazing man will be taking the New Jersey Sentinels to the Divisional Playoffs. 

Evan drives us directly to Rush.  We’re having dinner with his entire family tonight.  I love it when Evan plays early games at home.  It gives us a chance to act like normal people.

We arrive in downtown Asbury and the streets are all decorated for the holidays.  Streetlamps are adorned with giant snowflakes.  Storefront windows proudly display wreaths and finely decorated trees.  Parking meters are transformed into candy canes.  If it looks this nice during the day, I cannot wait to see it sparkle and shine at night.

We park close by and walk up to the restaurant’s entrance.  Reese and Emmy have put the final touches on our winter decorations, and I must say, it looks spectacular.  There are boughs of pine lit with simple white lights covering the windows and doors.  An enormous wreath of cranberries and white birch fill the storefront window.  It’s so beautiful, it takes my breath away. 

Evan grins impishly and opens the door, leading me inside our restaurant.  What I find waiting for me stops me in my tracks.  The tables and bar are covered with the boldest and brightest assortment of red-and-white flowers, too numerous for me to count. 

“Do you like them?” Evan asks.  “Callie helped me pick them out.”

“Like them?  Evan, they’re beautiful.  Are they lilies?”  They have long, green stems and trumpet blooms in beautiful, vibrant colors perfect for the holidays.

“They’re amaryllis flowers.  They’re named for a Greek shepherdess, Amaryllis, who loved with all her heart.  She loved so deeply that she was willing to sacrifice her own happiness just to grant the shepherd his wish.  Her love was unselfish and unswerving.”  He leans in close and whispers, “It reminds me of you, Juliette.  After all that’s happened, you haven’t given up on me, even after all I’ve put you through.”

I step up on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him down even lower.  I press my lips to his.  “I love you, future husband.”

“Not half as much as I love you, my future wife.”  He takes me by the hand and leads me over to the table where his parents, his sister, and his brother-in-law are seated.  The three men gather at one end of the table, while Jill, Callie, and I sit at the other.  I turn to Callie and thank her.  “Did these come from your shop?”

“They did.  That brother of mine is my best customer.  It’s me who should be thanking you!” she teases.  “I’m glad you like them, because there’s about a dozen more waiting for you at home.”

“You, my dear, have brought out a side of my son I never dreamed I would see,” Jill gushes.  The three of us look over at Evan, who is chatting animatedly about today’s game.  “I’m quite proud of the man he’s become.”

Callie places her hand over mine and adds, “He’s going to make a great husband.  I’ve always wanted a sister, and I don’t think he could have chosen any better.”

“Oh, speaking of which, I got a call from the bridal salon.  Our gowns are in.”

“This is going to be the best Christmas ever in the history of Christmases,” Callie pronounces.  “I get to buy a pretty dress and ridiculously expensive shoes and my embarrassingly rich and famous little brother gets to pay for it all.  Life is good.”

T
he next morning, I wake up in a panic, alone in bed.  Something is wrong.  I can sense it.  I look around the bedroom and there are things missing.  My jewelry box is gone.  I rush into my closet, only to discover that my clothes are no longer there.  I rush to my dresser, frantically opening drawer after drawer, finding each one as empty as the day we bought the dresser.  What the hell is going on?

I hear noises coming from another part of the house.  I stop and listen carefully.  The sound that reverberates in my ears is a familiar sound.  The grunting, the panting, and the sound of flesh pounding against flesh.  It’s unmistakable.

Terrified, I ease into the main living area of the house.  I look to the left and see suitcases sitting near the front door.  They’re my suitcases.

Evan is sitting on the couch watching porn.  That doesn’t make sense.  None of this makes sense.  I step closer and Evan notices me.  He turns and stares with an icy-cold expression that sends chills down my spine.

“There she is, our little starlet.”  His voice cuts through me, dripping with sarcasm and hostility.  “I was just watching some of your finest work.”  Evan returns his attention to the couple on the screen.  There it all is, bigger than life.  David has me spread-eagle on the bed, spreading my legs apart as far as they will stretch, and he’s ramming into me with all he’s got.  As disturbing as that may be, there is a look of pure ecstasy on my face that would make a schoolgirl blush. I want to vomit. 

“Evan, you have to let me explain,” I beg.

He holds up his cell phone.  “Not necessary.  I got a phone call from one of my teammates who suggested I turn on Penthouse TV.  Imagine how shocked I was to find your homemade video being shown to the world.  I’m the laughing stock of the entire NFL, Juliette.”