“Thanks.” She glanced out at the horizon, watching the last of the light fade in the west. Stars had already appeared overhead. The air was cooler, but with the heaters, she stayed warm.
“I was lucky,” she continued. “I got a PR job with the L.A. Stallions. I was broke and living in my car, but it was a chance to use my degree.”
“Marketing?” he said with a laugh. “You studied marketing.”
“I know. Not practical. I kept trying to talk myself into accounting. A solid and stable career. But I loved the creative side of business and I figured I might as well go for it. I waitressed at an all-night diner, went to class, studied and slept about four hours a night. When I got an internship, it was worse, but I didn’t care. I knew what I wanted.”
She’d thrown herself into her goals and told herself she would get a chance to sleep when she was thirty.
“My third day with the Stallions, Jack caught me eating the leftovers from some catered lunch they’d had.” She’d been wrapping sandwiches meant for the garbage in napkins with the idea that they could easily be her meals for the next couple of days.
“He took pity on me and invited me out to dinner.” She turned to Angel. “Dinner turned into breakfast. A few days later, I moved in with him.”
She waited for the inevitable “Did you love him?” Because the few people who knew the story always asked that. She hadn’t known Jack well enough to be sure how much she even liked him, but she’d been homeless and hungry and he was a good guy.
“He was a way out,” Angel said quietly, surprising her with his insight. “Better than living in your car.”
“He’s a great guy. I know that now. But at the time...” She shrugged. “Yeah, it was better than living in my car.” She paused. “Jack has a kind streak. Once he accepts you, you’re in for life. He accepted me. Over the next couple of months, I discovered I really did like him a lot. Then I turned up pregnant.”
She drew in a breath, hating how stupid that phrase always made her feel. She’d been careful, but not careful enough. When she’d realized what had happened, she’d been afraid he would think she was trying to trap him.
“So you got married.”
“That weekend. We flew to Las Vegas. I tried to talk him out of it. No.” She shook her head. “Actually I didn’t. Not very hard. Part of me wanted to let him take care of me.” Because no one ever had.
She was aware of talking too much, of saying too much, but somehow the words kept on coming.
“Two weeks later, I lost the baby.”
It had happened so fast. She hadn’t even absorbed the fact that there was a child and then it was gone. She’d gone to see her doctor, who’d confirmed the miscarriage.
“I filed for a divorce the next day,” she continued. “Without a baby, there was no reason for us to stay together and I didn’t want to take advantage of Jack. Only the Stallions didn’t see it that way. All they knew was that their star quarterback was getting a divorce and that having his ex-wife around might make him uncomfortable, so I was fired.”
“Hell of a week,” Angel murmured.
And not her worst one, she thought. “Jack, being Jack, tried to talk them out of it. When that didn’t work, he came to me and offered to be a silent partner in a new PR firm. I agreed and Score was born. A few years later, he brought Sam and Kenny on board and we’ve been together ever since.”
They’d turned a business partnership into a family. No matter what, she and Jack would be there for each other. He hadn’t been the great love of her life, but she cared for him more than she’d ever cared about anyone. No matter what, she would be there for Jack and he would there for her. In a way, that was better than romance, because she could depend on it.
Angel smiled at her. “You win. I can’t top that story.”
“You could tell me about the guy who slit your throat.”
“He had a bad week, too. Enough on that. So what’s your favorite business in town?”
He was changing the subject—something she was happy to have happen. She’d already said too much and couldn’t figure out why. It certainly couldn’t be the wine. She was on her first glass.
“I can’t pick,” she admitted. “I like them all. Favorite season?”
“Summer.”
“Girls in bikinis?”
“I like running when it’s warm.”
“Running as in exercising outdoors on purpose?”
He chuckled. “That would be it, yes.”
“My idea of hell.”
“You work out in a gym.”
“How do you know I work out at all?”
His gaze traveled over her body. “I’m not going to bother answering that.”
“I do yoga, too,” she murmured.
He chuckled. “Lucky me. Favorite James Bond actor?”
“Pierce Brosnan. James Bond movies should come with a wink. The new guy is too serious. I miss all the gadgets.” She looked at him. “You, however, are old-school. Your favorite is Sean Connery.”
* * *