“Thanks, Amy. I miss you guys, too.”
After they ended the call, she went to the den to practice. The roses Jamie had given her were in the window overlooking the park. She smelled the pink and white roses, noting the petals that had fallen to the windowsill, the brown edges of several others. Maybe it’s a sign. Nothing lasts forever. Even the thought felt wrong.
She went back to the living room and picked up her cell phone.
Call him. Just call him.
She tried to imagine their conversation. She’d apologize for being a distraction, and he’d tell her she wasn’t one. But she was, and she didn’t have a solution to that. There was no solution. She loved him and she wanted to spend time with him, and having no solution to her being a distraction sucked. Or, she could call and say she missed him. Eventually they’d get back to the whole distraction thing. Another sucky scenario. She didn’t understand why he didn’t tell her the reasons he was ending things. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would end things like this—and in her heart, she knew he wasn’t.
She stared at her phone. He called. He wants to talk.
She pressed her voicemail icon and listened to his message again. His voice sent a shiver through her chest. She had to talk to him. She sat on the couch and leaned her elbows on her knees. Holding the phone between her hands, she brought her forehead to it and closed her eyes.
A few minutes later, she called him, and when his voicemail picked up, she froze. Talk. Talk. Talk. “Hi. I miss you, and I’m sorry. Oh, Jamie. I miss you so darn much.” She ended the call before she could say anything else and dropped the phone on the couch like a hot potato.
What am I doing? I sound desperate.
I am desperate.
For him.
THE AFTERNOON SUN shone through the window of Jamie’s fifteenth-floor office. He’d been elbow deep in computer code since five in the morning, trying desperately to think through the bug that plagued the search engine. The issue had escalated with an article in Tech News Today that had already been picked up across too many newswires to count. His analysis was stopped cold every few minutes as thoughts of Jessica broke his concentration. He wondered if she was still on hiatus, and just as fast as that thought entered his mind, he wondered what she was really on hiatus from—sending his mind into a whirlwind of confusion. Why had she made up the story about playing for the Boston Symphony Orchestra? Was she as lonely for him at night as he was for her? A Tilt-A-Whirl ran in slower cycles than his brain lately.
There was a knock at the office door. He stared at it for a moment, debating his escape. He was in no mood to speak to anyone. The door cracked open and his assistant, Amelia Carr, poked her head into the office. Her dark hair fell over her shoulder, almost as long as Jessica’s. She had a pensive look on her young face.
“I know you wanted privacy, but Mark Wiley has already come by twice, and he’s here again.”
The door crashed open, pulling Amelia into the room with it, her hand still glued to the doorknob. Mark pushed past her.
“He’ll see me.” He sat in the leather chair across from Jamie’s desk with a large manila folder in his lap, casual as could be.
Amelia’s eyes widened as she inspected her hand, then rubbed her arm.
Jamie glared at Mark on his way to Amelia. “Are you okay?”
She brushed her skirt and blouse, as if she could brush the embarrassment away. “Yes, thank you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to let him in.”
“It’s fine. Thank you, Amelia, and I’m sorry for his rude behavior.”
She closed the door behind her and Jamie turned on Mark. “You’re a jerk. She didn’t deserve that.”
“You’re probably right, and if you had seen me the first two times I’d stopped by, I wouldn’t have had to barge into the room.” His nose was still a little swollen.
“You should have apologized, and when you leave, I expect you to do just that. She’s not your issue. I am.” The sight of Mark brought back the shattered look in Jessica’s beautiful eyes, the tremulous shaking of her arms as she clung to him, her heart broken by what Mark had said to her. Why had it taken Mark hurting someone he loved for Jamie to see him so clearly?
“Even if you might have been right about Jessica, you had no business going after her in such a hurtful way. You had no business slamming past Amelia, and, come to think of it, you had no business propositioning Jenna a few years back. You were way out of line, Mark. You have a problem, you come to me. Got it?”
Mark’s expression was blank as a piece of paper. “I might have done you a favor. You weren’t thinking straight.”
With fisted hands, Jamie rose to his feet and leaned across the desk. “You’re riding a very fine line right now. Friend or no friend.” He gritted his teeth to keep from climbing over the desk and pounding the life out of him. “Think before you speak, and tell me what the heck you want. If it has to do with Jessica, get out of here, because I don’t ever want to hear her name from you again.”
Without a word, Mark tossed the manila folder on his desk and walked out of his office, closing the door too loudly behind him.
Jamie stared at the large black letters written across the front. JESSICA AYERS.
Jamie picked up the envelope and sat in his leather chair. He knew what was inside without looking. Mark had done a background check on her without Jamie’s permission. Worse than that, he’d done it when Jamie had specifically told him not to.
Between a rock and a hard place didn’t come close to describing Jamie’s position. Mark had risked their friendship and gone against his direct order—and Jamie knew he was just looking out for him and for OneClick, the way he always had.
He ran his fingers over the envelope. One read would tell him everything he wanted to know, from her work history and previous addresses all the way down to traffic citations and, knowing Mark, a list of the men she’d dated in the past twelve months. He was nothing if not efficient.
And he was a complete jerk to women.
To Jessica.