Loving Jack Read online

  “That’s fascinating, I’m sure. . . LaFont?”

  “Yes, he’s a wonderful old duck, isn’t he? So pompous and sure of his own worth.”

  Nathan raised a brow. He’d studied with LaFont himself—a lifetime ago, it seemed—and was well aware that the old duck, as Jackie had termed him, took on only the most promising students. He opened his mouth again, then shut it. He wouldn’t be drawn out. “Let’s get back to your cousin, Miss MacNamara.”

  “Jackie,” she said, flashing that smile again. “Well, if I hadn’t been really anxious to get settled, I probably would have said thanks but no thanks. Fred’s always got an angle. But I came down. I took one look at the place, and that was that. He said he had to leave for San Diego right away on business and that the owner—you—didn’t want the house empty while you were away. I suppose you don’t really just use it as a winter home sporadically, do you?”

  “No.” He drew a cigarette out of his pocket. He’d successfully cut down to ten a day, but these were extenuating circumstances. “I live here year-round, except when a project takes me away. The arrangement was for Fred to live here during my absence. I called two weeks ago to let him know when I’d be arriving. He was to contact Mrs. Grange and leave his forwarding address with her.”

  “Mrs. Grange?”

  “The housekeeper.”

  “He didn’t mention a housekeeper.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Nathan murmured, and finished off his drink. “That takes us to the point of your occupation.”

  Jackie drew a long breath. “I signed a lease. Three months. I wrote Fred a check for the rent, in advance, plus a damage deposit.”

  “That’s unfortunate.” He wouldn’t feel sorry for her. He’d be damned if he would. “You didn’t sign a lease with the owner.”

  “With your proxy. With whom I thought was your proxy,” she amended. “Cousin Fred can be very smooth.” He wasn’t smiling, Jackie noted. Not even a glimmer. It was a pity he couldn’t see the humor in the situation. “Look, Mr. Powell—Nathan—it’s obvious Fred’s pulled something on both of us, but there must be a way we can work it out. As far as the thirty-five hundred dollars goes—”

  “Thirty-five hundred?” Nathan said. “You paid him thirty-five hundred dollars?”

  “It seemed reasonable.” She was tempted to pout because of his tone, but she didn’t think it would help. “You do have a beautiful home, and there was the pool, and the sunroom. Anyway, with a bit of family pressure, I may be able to get some of it back. Sooner or later.” She thought about the money a moment longer, then dismissed it. “But the real problem is how to handle this situation.”

  “Which is?”

  “My being here, and your being here.”

  “That’s easy.” Nathan tapped out his cigarette. There was no reason, absolutely no reason, why he should feel guilty that she’d lost money. “I can recommend a couple of excellent hotels.”

  She smiled again. She was sure he could, but she had no intention of going to one. The dimple was still in place, but if Nathan had looked closely, he would have seen that the soft brown eyes had hardened with determination.

  “That would solve your part of the problem, but not mine. I do have a lease.”

  “You have a worthless piece of paper.”

  “Very possibly.” She tapped her ringed fingers on the counter as she considered. “Did you ever study law? When I was at Harvard—”

  “Harvard?”

  “Very briefly.” She brushed away the hallowed halls with the back of her hand. “I didn’t really take to it, but I do think it might be difficult and, worse, annoying to toss me out on my ear.” She swirled her drink and considered. “Of course, if you wanted to get a warrant and take it to court, dragging cousin Fred into it, you’d win eventually. I’m sure of that. In the meantime,” she continued before he could find the right words, “I’m sure we can come up with a much more suitable solution for everyone. You must be exhausted.” She changed her tone so smoothly he could only stare. “Why don’t you go on up and get a good night’s sleep? Everything’s clearer on a good night’s sleep, don’t you think? We can hash through all this tomorrow.”

  “It’s not a matter of hashing through anything, Miss MacNamara. It’s a matter of your packing up your things.” He shoved a hand into his pocket, and his fingers brushed the swatch of nylon. Gritting his teeth, he pulled it out. “These are yours?”

  “Yes, thanks.” Without a blush, Jackie accepted her underwear. “It’s a little late to be calling the cops and explaining all of this to them. I imagine you could throw me out bodily, but you’d hate yourself for it.”

  She had him there. Nathan began to think she had a lot more in common with her cousin than a family name. He glanced at his watch and swore. It was already after midnight, and he didn’t—quite—have the heart to dump her in the street. The worst of it was that he was nearly tired enough to see double and couldn’t seem to come up with the right, or the most promising, arguments. So he’d let it ride—for the moment.

  “I’ll give you twenty-four hours, Miss MacNamara. That seems more than reasonable to me.”

  “I knew you were a reasonable man.” She smiled at him again. “Why don’t you go get some sleep? I’ll lock up.”

  “You’re in my bed.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Your things are in my room.”

  “Oh.” Jackie scratched at her temple. “Well, I suppose if it was really important to you, I could haul everything out tonight.”

  “Never mind.” Maybe it was all a nightmare. A hallucination. He’d wake up in the morning and discover everything was as it should be. “I’ll take one of the guest rooms.”

  “That’s a much better idea. You really do look tired. Sleep well.”

  He stared at her for nearly a full minute. When he was gone, Jackie laid her head down on the counter and began to giggle. Oh, she’d get Fred back for this, make no mistake. But now, just now, it was the funniest thing that had happened to her in months.

  Chapter Two

  When Nathan woke, it was after ten East Coast time, but the nightmare wasn’t over. He realized that as soon as he saw the muted striped paper on the wall of the guest room. He was in his own house, but he’d somehow found himself relegated to the position of guest.

  His suitcases, open but still packed, sat on the mahogany chest under the garden window. He’d left his drapes undrawn, and sunlight poured in over the neatly folded shirts. Deliberately he turned away from them. He’d be damned if he’d unpack until he could do so in the privacy of his own room.

  A man had a right to his own closet.

  Jacqueline MacNamara had been correct about one thing. He felt better after a full night’s sleep. His mind was clearer. Though it wasn’t something he cared to dwell on, he went over everything that had happened from the time he’d unlocked his door until he’d fallen, face-first, into the guest bed.

  He realized he’d been a fool not to toss her out on her pert little ear the night before, but that could be rectified. And the sooner, the better.

  He showered, taking his shaving gear into the bathroom with him, but meticulously replacing everything in the kit when he was finished. Nothing was coming out until it could be placed in his own cabinets and drawers. After he’d dressed, in light cotton pants and shirt, he felt in charge again. If he couldn’t deal with a dippy little number like the brunette snuggled in his bed, he was definitely slipping. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to have a cup of coffee first.

  He was halfway down the stairs when he smelled it. Coffee. Strong, fresh coffee. The aroma was so welcome he nearly smiled, but then he remembered who must have brewed it. Strengthening his resolve, he continued. Another scent wafted toward him. Bacon? Surely that was bacon. Obviously she was making herself right at home. He hear
d the music, as well—rock, something cheerful and bouncy and loud enough to be heard a room away.

  No, the nightmare wasn’t over, but it was going to end, and end quickly.

  Nathan strode into the kitchen prepared to shoot straight from the hip.

  “Good morning.” Jackie greeted him with a smile that competed with the sunshine. As a concession to him, she turned the radio down, but not off. “I wasn’t sure how long you’d sleep, but I didn’t think you were the type to stay in bed through the morning, so I started breakfast. I hope you like blueberry pancakes. I slipped out early and bought the berries. They’re fresh.” Before he could speak, she popped one into his mouth. “Have a seat. I’ll get your coffee.”

  “Miss MacNamara—”

  “Jackie, please. Cream?”

  “Black. We left things a bit up in the air last night, but we’ve got to settle this business now.”

  “Absolutely. I hope you like your bacon crisp.” She set a platter on the counter, where a place was already set with his good china and a damask napkin. She noticed that he’d shaved. With the shadow of beard gone, he didn’t look quite as much like her Jake—except around the eyes. It wouldn’t be wise, she decided, to underestimate him.

  “I’ve given it a lot of thought, Nathan, and I think I’ve come up with the ideal solution.” She poured batter onto the griddle and adjusted the flame. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Fine.” At least he’d felt fine when he’d awakened. Now he reached for the coffee almost defensively. She was like a sunbeam that had intruded when all he’d really wanted to do was draw the shades and take a nap.

  “My mother’s fond of saying you always sleep best at home, but it’s never mattered to me. I can sleep anywhere. Would you like the paper?”

  “No.” He sipped the coffee, stared at it, then sipped again. Maybe it was his imagination, but it was the best cup of coffee he’d ever tasted.

  “I buy the beans from a little shop in town,” she said, answering his unspoken question as she flipped the pancakes with an expert hand. “I don’t drink it often myself. That’s why I think it’s important to have a really good cup. Ready for these?” Before he could answer, she took his plate and stacked pancakes on it. “You’ve a wonderful view from right here.” Jackie poured a second cup of coffee and sat beside him. “It makes eating an event.”

  Nathan found himself reaching for the syrup. It wouldn’t hurt to eat first. He could still toss her out later. “How long have you been here?”

  “Just a few days. Fred’s always had an excellent sense of timing. How are your pancakes?”

  It seemed only fair to give her her due. “They’re wonderful. Aren’t you eating?”

  “I sort of sampled as I went along.” But that didn’t stop her from plucking another slice of bacon. She nibbled, approved, then smiled at him. “Do you cook?”

  “Only if the package comes with instructions.”

  Jackie felt the first thrill of victory. “I’m really a very good cook.”

  “Studied at the Cordon Bleu, I imagine.”

  “Only for six months,” she said, grinning at him. “But I did learn most of the basics. From there I decided to go my own way, experiment, you know? Cooking should be as much of an adventure as anything else.”

  To Nathan, cooking was drudgery that usually ended in failure. He only grunted.

  “Your Mrs. Grange,” Jackie began conversationally. “Is she supposed to come in every day, do the cleaning and the cooking?”

  “Once a week.” The pancakes were absolutely fabulous. He’d grown accustomed to hotel food, and as excellent as it had been, it couldn’t compete with this. He began to relax as he studied the view. She was right—it was great, and he couldn’t remember ever having enjoyed breakfast more. “She cleans, does the weekly grocery shopping and usually fixes a casserole or something.” Nathan took another forkful, then stopped himself before he could again be seduced by the flavor. “Why?”

  “It all has to do with our little dilemma.”

  “Your dilemma.”

  “Whatever. I wonder: are you a fair man, Nathan? Your buildings certainly show a sense of style and order, but I can’t really tell if you have a sense of fair play.” She lifted the coffeepot. “Let me top that off for you.”

  He was losing his appetite rapidly. “What are you getting at?”

  “I’m out thirty-five hundred.” Jackie munched on the bacon. “Now, I’m not going to try to make you think that the loss is going to have me on the street corner selling pencils, but it’s not really the amount. It’s the principle. You believe in principles, don’t you?”

  Cautious, he gave a noncommittal shrug.

  “I paid, in good faith, for a place to live and to work for three months.”

  “I’m sure your family retains excellent lawyers. Why don’t you sue your cousin?”

  “The MacNamaras don’t solve family problems that way. Oh, I’ll settle up with him—when he least expects it.”

  There was a look in her eyes that made Nathan think she would do just that, and beautifully. He had to fight back a surge of admiration. “I’ll wish you the best of luck there, but your family problems don’t involve me.”

  “They do when it’s your house in the middle of it. Do you want some more?”

  “No. Thanks,” he added belatedly. “Miss—Jackie—I’m going to be perfectly frank with you.” He settled back, prepared to be both reasonable and firm. If he’d known her better, Nathan would have felt his first qualms when she turned her big brown eyes on him with a look of complete cooperation. “My work in Germany was difficult and tiring. I have a couple of months of free time coming, which I intend to spend here, alone, doing as little as possible.”

  “What were you building?”

  “What?”

  “In Germany. What were you building?”

  “An entertainment complex, but that isn’t really relevant. I’m sorry if it seems insensitive, but I don’t feel responsible for your situation.”

  “It doesn’t seem insensitive at all.” Jackie patted his hand, then poured him more coffee. “Why should you, after all? An entertainment complex. It sounds fascinating, and I’d really love to hear all about it later, but the thing is, Nathan”—she paused as she topped off her own cup—“is that I kind of see us as two people in the same boat. We both expected to spend the next couple of months alone, pursuing our own projects, and Fred screwed up the works. Do you like Asian food?”

  He was losing ground. Nathan didn’t know why, or when, the sand had started to shift beneath his feet, but there it was. Resting his elbows on the counter, he held his head in his hands. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

  “It has to do with my idea, and I wanted to know what kind of food you liked, or particularly didn’t like. Me, I’ll eat anything, but most people have definite preferences.” Jackie cupped her mug in both hands as she tucked her legs, lotus-style, under her on the stool. She was wearing shorts today, vivid blue ones with a flamingo emblem on one leg. Nathan studied the odd pink bird for a long time before he lifted his gaze to hers.

  “Why don’t you just tell me your idea while I still have a small part of my sanity?”

  “The object is for both of us to have what we want—or as nearly as possible. It’s a big house.”

  She lifted both brows as his eyes narrowed. That look, she thought again. That Jake look was hard to resist. Nathan’s coming back when he did might have been the sort of odd bonus fate sometimes tossed out. Jackie was always ready to make a grab for it.

  “I’m an excellent roommate. I could give you references from several people. I went to a variety of colleges, you see, so I lived with a variety of people. I can be neat if that’s important, and I can be quiet and unobtrusive.”

  “I find that d
ifficult to believe.”

  “No, really, especially when I’m immersed in my own project, like I am now. I write almost all day. This story’s really the most important thing in my life right now. I’ll have to tell you about it, but we’ll save that.”

  “I’d appreciate it.”

  “You have a wonderfully subtle sense of humor, Nathan. Don’t ever lose it. Anyhow, I’m a strong believer in atmosphere. You must be, too, being an architect.”

  “You’re losing me again.” He shoved the coffee aside. Too much stimulation—that must be it. Another cup and he might just start understanding her.

  “The house,” Jackie said patiently. Her eyes were the problem, Nathan decided. There was something about them that compelled you to look and listen when all you really wanted to do was hold your hands over your ears and run.

  “What about the house?”

  “There’s something about it. The minute I set up here, everything just started flowing. With the story. If I moved, well, don’t you think things might stop flowing just as quickly? I don’t want to chance that. So I’m willing to make some compromises.”

  “You’re willing to make some compromises,” Nathan repeated slowly. “That’s fascinating. You’re living in my house, without my consent, but you’re willing to make some compromises.”

  “It’s only fair.” There was that smile again, quick and brilliant. “You don’t cook. I do.” Jackie gestured with both hands as if to show the simplicity of it. “I’ll prepare all of your meals, at my expense, for as long as I’m here.”

  It sounded reasonable. Why in the hell did it sound so reasonable when she said it? “That’s very generous of you, but I don’t want a cook, or a roommate.”