Chapter 2
Carter
I’d spent the last three weeks silently fuming over Jayne. And the past hour of throwing the crap she’d left at my house into a cardboard box had been the peak of my anger. I’d expected to rock up at her last known address, toss the box into her sister’s hands, then charge off again to see my lawyer about the divorce.
Except my rage had dissipated the minute Veronica had opened the door.
She was Jayne’s polar opposite. I hoped in personality, too.
Where Jayne was tall, long-limbed and raven-haired, Veronica was short, curvy and blonde. Her eyes sparkled with intelligence and her movements were quick and sure. No-nonsense.
I liked that in a woman. Shit, I liked that kind of attitude in anybody, probably because it reflected my own. The SpongeBob SquarePants shirt was hilarious, too.
Veronica juggled the box of crap around. “Oh. You haven’t heard from Jayne at all?”
“No,” I replied.
“I’m sorry about that.” She backed up a few steps. “Would you like to come inside? I don’t have any coffee mugs but I think I have a couple beers in the fridge.”
“I thought you had somewhere to be.”
“Not for another two hours. And I’ve got to figure out whether I can go or not. Nothing to wear.” She blushed that adorable shade of crimson and led the way into her apartment.
I walked in and avoided looking at the pictures on the walls, just in case Jayne peered out at me from one of them. When I’d first met her, she’d been wild and free. She’d seemed like the perfect match for me at the time. A woman who’d excite me, force me out of my comfort zone and business suits.
But she’d ruined that after the first year of vapid globe-trotting and a string of affairs with pool boys, chauffeurs, and bellboys.
I entered the living area and admired the view from the windows. Sunlight tickled the ivory white sofa and I took a seat, officially enticed. I’d been in every type of luxury situation from yachts to five-star hotels, but nothing beat a homey atmosphere.
“I think that’s all I need,” The officer said. “You be sure to file for that restraining order, Miss Heath.”
“Thanks, Officer,” she replied and placed the cardboard box on the coffee table.
“I’ll see myself out.” The man trooped off and the front door slammed a couple seconds later, plunging us into an uncomfortable silence.
“Ah,” Veronica said and clicked her fingers. “Beers.” She hurried to the refrigerator and jerked the door open.
I admired her ass in spite of my situation, then stopped myself. This woman was my sister-in-law, and I’d pretty much sworn off relationships of any kind six months ago, when all the trouble had officially started. When it’d become clear Jayne had been out for my money and nothing else.
Veronica returned with two beers and we popped the caps together. I drank deeply from mine, the brew a deluge of welcome coolness in my throat.
“I’m really sorry things didn’t work out between you and Jayne,” she said.
“Are you?” I clinked the bottle onto a coaster. “Shit, that came out sarcastic. We barely know each other. I mean, I think I caught a glimpse of you once or twice but I remembered you differently.”
“I second that analysis,” she said. “I guess what I meant to say is I’m sorry you met Jayne in the first place. And I’m sorry I never got a chance to warn you about her. She’s my sister and I love her, kind of because I have to, but I wouldn’t hook her up with any of my friends.”
“Thanks,” I replied, and actually chuckled. “That’s what I needed to hear in a weird way.”
Veronica drank some more beer.
“I – uh, shit, I don’t mean to pry but what did that cop mean by a restraining order?”
“Oh,” she said and choked on the beer. A little squirted out of her nose and she grabbed for napkins that weren’t there. “Shoot.”
“Here,” I said and brought a handkerchief out of my pocket. “It’s clean.” I never used the damn thing, it was a habit I’d picked up from one of my mentors for occasions like these.
She took it and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Well, that was gross.” Veronica laughed. “Really stings. Anyway, I was going to say that I was robbed before I spewed beer like a fountain.”
“You were?” The place looked okay. No TV, but no space for one either. The couch was intact and the stereo in the corner.
“Yeah. It was my ex-boyfriend who did it. He took personal stuff and art supplies. A lot of expensive supplies.”
“And I thought I was bitter,” I said.
“Yeah, the irony of it all is he was the one who cheated and ruined the relationship. I’m the one who’s supposed to take revenge on him. Guess it doesn’t always work out that way. Or at all.” She swiped the last of the beer off her face and looked at the handkerchief. “I’ll clean it for you.”
“Keep it,” I said. “I’ve got plenty of them.”
“Oh, yeah, you’re rich,” she replied. Her eyes widened and she rammed her lips together. “Oh, my gosh, sorry. That’s so rude of me to say. It just popped out.”
I burst out laughing but I didn’t feel any of that mirth inside. Jayne had been obsessed, and still was for that matter, with my money. She’d spent plenty of it. She hadn’t made a dent in the bank account but she’d certainly tried and would continue doing so until I tracked her down wherever she was and got her to sign some divorce papers.
I’d never been prepared for this type of failure. For loving a woman and realizing that she didn’t love me back. It was the reason I’d avoided relationships for years – I didn’t want to end up like my father. Broke, old, and bitter.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, at last. I downed the last of the beer and placed the empty bottle on the table. “I’m sorry to hear about your troubles. Is this guy the clingy type?”
“I have no idea,” she replied. “I thought he was normal until he cleared out my underwear drawer. Your guess is as good as mine, right now.” She squinted at the clock on the wall. “Is that time right?”
I checked my watch. “No. That’s an hour behind. It’s 4 p.m. now.”
“Bastard,” she grunted. “He turned the clock back. I’ve got an hour to get dressed and get out of here.”
“Shit, I’ll get out of your way, then. Thanks for the drink.” I got up and brushed off my jeans. I lingered, on the brink of asking to see her again of all things. Not on a date, just to talk. Just to get to know her, when I didn’t really need to since I wanted to divorce her sister anyway.
“If you – uh, if you find any more of Jayne’s stuff feel free to send it over,” she said, hugging the beer bottle to her chest. “It was great to meet you.”
“And you,” I said and nodded. “I’ll let myself out. Good luck at your art showing tonight.”
“Thanks. I’ll need it.”
I didn’t ask what she meant but I gathered it had something to do with her scumbag ex. I gave her a quick wave and nod, then made my way down the hall and past the hall table. The flyer atop it caught my gaze.
It was an advertisement for the art showing that night. Clics Gallery. I scanned it and made a note of the address, then opened Veronica’s front door and let myself out into the late afternoon.
It’d been a long time since I’d enjoyed anyone’s company, and certainly not a woman’s. My fascination with Jayne’s free spirit and carefree attitude had faded when I’d realized there wasn’t anything more to her than that.
But Veronica fascinated me. She was nice. Actually nice and down-to-earth and she said what she meant, judging by her little faux pas about my wealth. I needed a friend now. Or no, maybe talking to her would help me move on from this fuck up of a marriage, as selfish as that was.
Yeah, and the fact that she’s drop-dead gorgeous makes no never mind to you.
I brushed the thought aside and trooped down the stairs to the sidewalk below. Her apartment was above a bookstore, filled with hippie lookin’ folks sipping coffee from jars. I shook my head and continued down the street, hands tucked in my pockets.
I reached my Audi and unlocked it with the click of a button, Veronica still on my brain. Shit, this was dumb. She was my wife’s sister. She was off limits in every way. Even if I actually got the divorce finalized, it would still be weird.
And I wasn’t ready to trust again.
“Stop thinking about it, then,” I said and slipped into the front seat. The leather cushioned me and I rested my head, breathing easy for a minute.
What was the harm in checking out some art? I loved art. It was part of the reason I’d traveled to Italy over a year ago – to soak up the romance. My mother had ingrained that sense of creativity into me, possibly because she’d seen that I lacked flair in that department.
Yeah, a showing sounded like the perfect Friday night activity. It was better than sitting home lamenting a failed marriage and breaking open that fifty-year-old bottle of Scotch.
I grabbed my phone out of the glove box, then dialed Joseph’s number.
“Boss,” he said. “What’s up, boss man?”
He loved talking to me like that because I hated it. “Jo, I need you to organize a chauffeur for me this evening.”
“When and where, boss?”
“Cut it out,” I snapped, and instantly regretted it. I’d been short with everyone of late and Jo was my oldest and best employee. And friend. “Shit, sorry, man. I – uh, I need to get to Clics Gallery in about an hour and a half? Have the guy hang around afterward. They’ll probably be serving wine there.”
“You got it, boss man,” Jo said, unperturbed by my outburst.
“Thanks, Jo. And have a good weekend.”
“Every weekend is good when you work for a billionaire,” he replied, and signed off with a chuckle.
I put the phone on the passenger seat and thought this through. How would my sister-in-law take it if I turned up at the showing after meeting her a mere hour before? Would she be creeped out or think I’d just come to show my support?
Maybe if I had some real reason to be there it wouldn’t be weird.
Now you’re making excuses about it? Shit, you’re some other kind of jackass. I’d never doubted any of my decisions before. Quick thinking was the hallmark of my business style. Risk taking, too.
If I wanted to enjoy a little art then so be it. I started the Audi and ignored the nerves bubbling in my gut. Another first for Carter Jones, billionaire investor extraordinaire.