Twelve weeks earlier
Little Italy was alive with celebrating baseball fans. The San Diego Padres had triumphantly trounced the rival Los Angeles Dodgers in a remarkable three-game sweep. The party had moved from Petco Park into the surrounding downtown neighborhoods of The Gaslamp Quarter and Little Italy.
Angela and Jake relaxed at a small table in Filippi’s Pizza Grotto. The dimly lit restaurant definitely had the feel of a grotto, with dozens of empty Chianti bottles suspended from its low ceiling. Savory Italian aromas hung heavily in the air.
Despite the high-spirited revelry around them, the mood at Angela and Jake’s table was subdued. Even at the ballgame, his behavior had been quieter than usual, and that attitude continued as they perused the menus before ordering.
Angela sighed and closed her menu. Jake didn’t seem to notice her studying him.
A hollow sense of disappointment filled her. After two wonderful weeks of dating, her hopes had blossomed that maybe this time would be different. How stupid of her. How naïve. But at least the days since he had first kissed her on the beach had been fantastic.
For reasons that weren’t entirely clear, he had ignored the fiasco of their first meeting. And their second. He had asked for no further explanation than she offered and seemed truly relieved she had agreed to see him again.
Reluctant at first, she had soon been overwhelmed by Jake’s enthusiastic attention. He arranged for them to be together, to do something enjoyable every day. For a few days there had only been time for him to meet her for lunch in Coronado, but most nights, they dined someplace special. Over the past two weekends, practically every minute had been spent together. His endless list of fun things to do had included the San Diego Zoo and Disneyland. He’d surprised her with horseback riding on the beach, parasailing at Mission Bay, and even a hot air balloon ride in Del Mar. All at sunset. All so romantic.
To Angela’s relief, he always behaved like a perfect gentleman. The kiss on the beach had been the first of many gentle, respectful kisses. After uncomfortably watching a sex-filled movie on their second date, she had voiced her disapproval of premarital sex. Jake’s struggle to hide his disbelief and dismay was almost comical, but he had heeded the subtle warning in her words.
Never once had he touched her inappropriately or suggestively. Never once had he pushed her for any physical affection beyond polite hugs and kisses. With the masseuse and the three empty condom wrappers still fresh in her memory, Angela was truly astonished by his restraint.
Part of her wanted to tell him the truth. That part wanted to be normal and free again. But another part was still too scarred, too ashamed, too afraid. That part made her panic.
It always won.
She had confided to her dear neighbor, Leona Browning, that she was living a fairy tale, and Jake Stone was her prince. He was definitely charming and ruggedly handsome and devotedly attentive. But—Angela hated that there was a “but”—Jake’s eyes unnerved her. They were pure gray. She had seen them icy cold, smoldering hot, charmingly soft, and flint hard. So many shades of gray. She found it especially unsettling when the message in his eyes didn’t match the rest of his demeanor.
Those eyes were usually like windows into the shadowy recesses of the real Jake Stone. But tonight, the gray windows had been shuttered.
She had noticed throughout the evening that his gaze rarely connected with hers, but she tried to ignore the warning signs. God, she had so wanted him to be different from the others.
After they ordered, she attempted to start a conversation with the news of a local political scandal. She soon found herself carrying on a one-sided discussion. Their meals arrived, and she gave up. They ate in complete silence for several minutes.
Occasionally, she glanced up from her plate to watch Jake who seemed fixated on his food. Not once did she find him looking away from his plate.
Finally, no longer hungry, she raised the wine glass to her lips and leaned back in the chair. She sipped the Chianti, wondering how long this mood would continue.
She sighed. She knew what was happening. It had happened before. Many times. Unfortunately, she’d let herself get sucked into believing Jake might be different because it had taken longer this time. She silently chastised herself for feeling disappointed; her disappointment was more her fault than his.
No reason to drag this out any longer. She sighed again. Time to end this and move on.
“Earth to Jake.” He kept chewing, never missing a beat. “Earth to Jake,” Angela said a little louder.
He stopped mid-bite and peeked at her over his fork. “Huh?” Then noticing her barely touched plate, he asked, “Something wrong with your dinner?”
She slowly swallowed a sip of wine while holding his gaze. “No, the food is fine. Something’s wrong with the company.”
Almost defiantly, he stuck his fork in his mouth and returned to staring at his plate. She waited patiently.
“Sorry I’m not up to your standards tonight,” he said without looking up. He stabbed a bite of meatball and jammed it into his mouth.
She shut her eyes and steeled herself for the imminent, unpleasant conversation.
Men are so immature about breaking off relationships, she mused. They’re like children who can’t admit they’re taking their balls and going home when they don’t get their way. She smiled faintly at the analogy.
Setting down her wineglass, Angela shifted in the chair and rested her elbows on the table.
“You’re very distant tonight, Jake. Is something wrong?”
He peered at her through flint eyes. His thoughts and feelings were completely shielded behind an expressionless face. But Angela saw him swallow hard and felt some satisfaction that he was at least uncomfortable about ending their relationship.
He rolled his eyes and shook his head before deliberately dropping his fork on the plate with a loud clatter. “I’m just tired.”
“Please don’t treat me like a child. Do we need to have the talk?”
“What talk? I’m tired and frustrated because I’m…working on a contract that isn’t going well,” he offered lamely.
“Gee, how romantic. No one’s ever called me a ‘contract’ before.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” His jaw was set, his lips a tight line.
“C’mon, Jake. I’ve been expecting this since our second date. Actually, you lasted longer than most men. They usually disappear after the third or fourth date when there’s no sex.”
He stared at her incredulously, rubbing his forehead. “What does sex have to do with anything tonight?”
“Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I mean. I was being honest when I warned you that I wouldn’t sleep with you, but like most men, you thought you could change my mind. You know, seduce me with your manly charms. Now that it’s apparent you can’t, it’s time for you to move on.”
“You think I’ve been dating you just to get laid?” He laughed harshly, attracting curious glances from other patrons.
Fighting back the sting of tears, she looked down at her hands. “I think that was part of it.”
“Did you ever consider I might not be interested in sex with you? Shit, Angela, how do you know I haven’t been screwing two or three other women in between our dates?”
Heat crept up her cheeks until they burned. “I guess I don’t,” she answered defensively. “I apologize, Jake, if I’m wrong. But it’s been my experience that most men don’t want platonic relationships.”
“Well, I’ll admit it’s never my first choice. But sometimes there’s another reason for the attraction, something not sexual. How many times are you going to lump me together with ‘most men’? Do you ever consider that I might not be like ‘most men’?”
Without waiting for an answer, he abruptly stood and yanked out his wallet. Tossing a hundred-dollar bill on the table, he said coldly, “That should pay for dinner and a taxi to get you home. Good-bye, Angela.”
* * *
The Corvette peeled out of Filippi’s parking lot. Angrier with himself than with Angela, Jake whipped the car onto the crowded freeway. Horns blared. His left hand, middle finger extended, shot out the open window.
Then reality grabbed him by the balls. The contract. Don’t blow the damn contract.
All day he’d struggled. He didn’t like what was happening to him. He wasn’t supposed to feel emotions, especially an emotion as foreign as compassion. But he was, and that was dangerous.
As the Corvette flew past the exit to the highway heading home, Jake conceded to himself where he was going. He just didn’t know what he was going to do when he got there.
The cool, damp night air blowing on his face calmed him. He ran a hand across his eyes and tried to focus on how to save the night, how to save the contract.
Angela Reardon was the most fascinating woman he’d ever met. She was incredibly complex. Perhaps that’s what he liked most—not being able to figure her out quickly. She’d been right about two things tonight: He didn’t like platonic relationships, and he never had to wait more than a couple of dates before the woman was offering him sex. He suffered no pangs of guilt over either fact.
After reaching the Coronado end of the bridge, he drove past Angela’s condo and parked half a block away where he would have a clear view of the taxi dropping her off.
Jake knew a relationship with Angela would’ve been different even if she hadn’t been his target. The woman was beautiful, inside and out. Intelligent. Captivating. Sexy. Strong, yet kind.
His eyes narrowed.
But Angela Reardon also had secrets.
Her secrets were her vulnerability. Twice he had unintentionally triggered her fear. Twice he had incredulously witnessed her weakness. After the second incident, he’d analyzed her actions but reached no conclusions. Only after her condemnation of premarital sex did he begin to put the pieces together.
A moral belief didn’t cause terror and panic. And that’s what he’d seen in her eyes. No, this wasn’t a moral issue. She had a deep, dark, painful secret.
Minutes later a taxi turned the far corner and stopped at the curb across the street from Angela’s condo. Jake’s ruminations ended abruptly as she exited the cab. He cursed when the driver took off while she was still crossing the street. Neanderthal jerk.
Jake grimaced as he watched Angela wipe her eyes while hurrying to the front door and letting herself in. For several minutes, he watched the soft glow of lights coming on, downstairs and upstairs. After slamming his hand against the steering wheel, he started the car and pulled into her driveway. He waited, drawing a deep breath and steeling himself, before he approached her front door.
Angela didn’t answer the first ring. He pushed the doorbell a second time and called her name. The door opened a crack.
Her wide eyes were red-rimmed and glistening. She didn’t speak, just stared at him.
“May I come in?” he asked quietly.
After a few heartbeats, she nodded and walked away. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Running fingers through his hair he turned to Angela, who leaned against the wall at the edge of the foyer.
“What do you want, Jake?” She lifted her chin proudly.
His gaze raked over her. She was barefoot. The top two buttons of her shirt were open, the shirttail pulled out of the waistband of her jeans. Her blond hair was tousled as if she’d been lying down.
“I wanted to be sure you got home safely and to apologize for deserting you at the restaurant. My behavior was unforgivable.” He smiled repentantly.
She blinked. “Well, you can see I’m safe.”
Their eyes locked. Seconds ticked by.
“You’re wrong, Angela.”
“About what?”
“Several things.”
“Such as?”
“First, I wasn’t planning to break up with you.”
“Really?” She didn’t sound convinced.
“Yes, really. Second, all that bullshit about sex and seducing you was wrong.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Maybe you don’t want to believe it. Maybe you’re a coward,” he said, taunting her.
She straightened and pushed away from the wall. “You should leave now.” She spun around, and her hair whipped across her shoulders. After two hesitant steps, she rushed toward the stairs.
Jake intercepted her and grabbed her arm, his grip firm but not painful. “No. You don’t get to run away this time.”
She scowled at his hand. “Let me go,” she said in a stern voice.
He tightened his grasp and pulled her closer until their bodies almost touched. He’d felt gentle and apologetic a few moments earlier, but now he was angry and wanted to challenge her.
When Angela tried to turn away, his other arm snaked around her waist and yanked her against him. She gasped and stiffened.
His hand threaded up through the silky hair at the back of her neck. Then he held her head immobile as his lips attacked hers.
His frantic, hungry lips moved over her tightly clenched ones. His mouth was relentless: pressing, massaging, demanding. Her lips softened and parted. His tongue plunged inside, no hesitation. Teasing, tantalizing, thrusting again and again.
Whimpering, she leaned into him.
He ended the kiss as suddenly as it had begun.
Jake’s hands dropped away. Angela swayed. He didn’t attempt to steady her although his eyes never released hers.
“You were wrong, Angela. That’s what I would’ve done if I were trying to seduce you. So, you see, I wasn’t.”
He marched out and slammed the door.