Chapter Eleven

NOELY

The breeze lifting off the ocean whips my hair in my face, temporarily covering my eyes. I push my hair out of the way and curse myself for not putting it up. I’m usually smarter than this, but because I went through hair drama yesterday, I wanted to show off my straight locks.

Bad idea.

Very bad idea, because not only am I eating my hair with each passing gust of wind, I’m getting lipstick all over my face from my hair brushing against my lips and then onto my cheeks. It’s not even the slightest bit attractive.

Holding my hair to one side, I look around the beach, wondering where Jack is. He doesn’t seem like a guy who is normally late, not that two minutes is late, but still. From my general impression of the man, time is a precious commodity.

And he’s the one bringing the food and wine, so it’s not like I could start drinking if I wanted to, not that I need to drink right now.

Well . . . that’s sort of a lie. I wouldn’t mind a little booze to ease my nerves. I shouldn’t be nervous when it comes to Jack, but for some reason, I have a bad feeling. A very bad feeling.

Since my last message yesterday, I haven’t heard from him. And who knows, he might have been busy all day with whatever business he conducts, so I have to give him the benefit of the doubt . . . but it also seems uncharacteristic of him to not message me back. The man sent me a dozen lightbulbs for crying out loud.

I shift in my miniscule jean shorts and tight-fitting purple blouse. I wanted to wear something casual but also pretty, something that showed off my body but allowed me to be able to sit on a blanket in the sand without worrying about some passerby able to see straight up my skirt.

I rest the blanket on the fence and look at the parking lot just as a black BMW sedan pulls in. I have no idea what kind of car Jack drives, but my stomach flips from the thought of him stepping out of that car.

I watch intently as a black loafer appears from behind the car door, followed by an impeccably dressed Jack wearing black trousers, a black button-up shirt sans tie, and black sunglasses that cover those deliciously dark eyes of his.

I smile widely at him when he spots me. Taking off his sunglasses, he tosses them on the dashboard of his car and he locks up, carrying nothing with him.

Odd.

When he approaches, I push off the fence and wait for him to reach me. When he does, his gaze is cast down, his features not the jovial ones I’m used to.

“Hey,” I say shyly, feeling more nervous than ever.

“Hi.” He places his hands in his pockets, and his standoffish stance is rocking my equilibrium.

Shouldn’t he be scooping me up into his arms and kissing me? Isn’t that what he’s been wanting to do since we kissed the other night. Hell, isn’t that what he wanted since date one?

Unsure on how to read this man, I take another step forward and ask, “Is everything okay, Jack?”

His lips purse, and he shakes his head.

Yeah, I don’t like the look of this at all.

“I’m going to be honest with you, Noely.” He looks up at me and those mysterious eyes slice me in half. They’re stern, unforgiving, almost scary. “Do you remember what we talked about on our first date?”

First date? How about only date?

“You’re going to have to be more specific. We talked about a lot of things, Jack.”

“I’m a private person, Noely.”

Oh crap, he did watch the show from yesterday.

“On our first date, I told you privacy was important, that I was burned in the past from my private life being shared without my consent.”

Stepping forward again, I say, “Ugh, Jack, I’m so sorry. It was a slip-up and I feel awful. I really meant to just call you The Suit, but I was so nervous, and when I’m nervous I don’t think and things just fly out of my mouth. I hope you don’t think I did this on purpose, because exposing you like that is the last thing I would want to do.” His eyes are trained on the ground between us. “But at least it wasn’t your last name, right? There must be thousands of Jacks in Malibu. I think you’re safe.” I tug on his shirt, trying to lighten his mood, but it doesn’t work.

“Two people have already asked me if I was the Jack you were talking about.”

“What?” My voice reaches decibels only dogs can hear. “How is that possible?”

“They both knew I was taking part in the dating program, so they put the two and two together.”

Oh God.

“I’m so sorry, Jack. I didn’t even want to do the segment. It was my producer who kept pushing and pushing. I’m really—”

“I can’t do this, Noely.” He shakes his head, and my body goes stiff from his words. Stroking his jaw, he lets out a frustrated breath. “I can’t have my life in the public eye. I don’t want it in the public eye. I’ve spent a great deal of time trying to step out of the spotlight, trying to make my investments the center of attention and not the man behind them. It’s taken a long time, but I’m finally there.” He continues to stroke his jaw, his eyes pinned on mine now. “I like you, Noely, a lot, but you’re too high profile for me right now. I’m in the midst of something big, a business that is on the verge of exploding into something amazing. I can’t jeopardize that . . . for anything. If it doesn’t work out, I’m not the only one affected by it. I’ve hired fifty employees to keep everything in check, and I can’t possibly hurt them, not after all the hard work they’ve put into this project.”

Is he really breaking up before we get started?

“Jack, I’m sorry. I really am, and I will do whatever I can to help fix things. Just tell me what I can do.” I bite my bottom lip and hate that I’m getting emotional over this. “I don’t want to say goodbye to you. I really think there is something special between us. Can’t you feel it?”

He nods, and a brief glimpse of hope springs inside me. “There is something special between us, but I can’t pursue it.” He shakes his head. “I won’t jeopardize anything. I never should have gone on the first date to begin with.” He sighs and runs a hand over his face. “I just couldn’t stay away.” Shaking his head, he steps away, causing my heart to slightly crack. “I have to go.” Looking me up and down, he says, “Take care, Noely.”

When he turns around and heads to his car, I’m almost too shocked to do anything, but before he can close his car door, I call out to him. “So that’s it, Jack? You’re going to be just as evasive in stopping this as you were in sharing anything about you? Because of privacy? Even if what we can both see between us seems so good?”

“It’s much more than that.” Well, hell if I know how it can be after one date, one kiss, and a few messages.

“Yeah, like what?” I fold my arms over my chest, growing angrier by the second.

“It would be a conflict of interest, Noely.”

A conflict of interest? What the hell is he talking about?

Before I can ask, he’s shutting his car door and starting the engine. I watch as he places his sunglasses over his eyes and backs out of the parking lot, kicking up dust in his wake.

I’m stunned. I stand there for a few minutes before I finally say to no one, “You’ve got to be freaking kidding me.” Shaking my head in disbelief, I repeat a little louder. “You’ve got to be FREAKING kidding me.” Throwing my arms to the sky, I stomp toward my blanket, snag it along with my keys and head to my car.

A conflict of interest?

Privacy?

Not wanting to be burned?

What in the ever-living hell is he talking about?

And what’s even more frustrating is that the man refuses to talk about it. I don’t need to know his social security number or anything, just a little explanation, something more than his evasive answer.

But noooooo, The Suit can’t possibly share that side of him.

Well guess what, Jack? You’re dead to me.

Once in my car, I pull out my phone from my back pocket and open up the Going in Blind app. Without even giving it a second thought, I look at the second match sent to me. I have no idea if they normally send daters second or third matches, whether this is normal or not. But it’s as if they knew I’d be needing another attempt.

RebelWithACause.

I study the profile. It doesn’t say much; he is adventurous, loves homemade brownies, and does a lot of philanthropic work.

Interesting and what’s even more interesting is his profile emoji. It’s a motorcycle, something that seems like the complete opposite from The Suit, just what I need. I’m still completely confused how someone who was very forthright with what they wanted to do with me, can so quickly turn off that passion. He sent flowers. Lightbulbs. He gave me hope.

And now that hope has dulled, much like my apartment when I throw out all the stupid bulbs I didn’t need in the first place. One down. Hopefully not too many more before I give up completely.

Looks like we’re about to get cozy, rebel.