Menton’s service was as to be expected—perfect, unobtrusive, and worth the price. The Chef’s Tasting Course option took most of the decisions out of the ordering process. Even the wine was paired for them. If Blake were in a different state of mind, it would have been a very lovely evening. More than once during the evening’s progression he wondered if he should have taken Jane to a less fancy location. If they’d gone to Uni, they’d have finished an hour ago, and he’d already be home with an old Dashiell Hammett novel. Wallowing. He wanted to wallow.
Notes for his next relationship-ending date, he thought. Though there wouldn’t be any of those in his future if he stuck to his new plan of permanent solitude.
Blake waited until Jane had pushed away her Foie Gras de Canard before he prepared to deliver his news. His announcement would likely spoil the rest of dinner, and the meal was one price for all seven courses, so he wanted to get the most out of his dollar. Really, he’d meant to hold off until dessert had been served, but by the time he’d finished his own main course, he was too anxious to get the evening over with.
Just as he was about to speak, though, the waiter arrived.
“The check please,” Blake said before the man could persuade them to indulge in another course. “We’ll take dessert with us.”
“You’d like me to box up the crème brûlée?” The waiter sounded horrified.
“I would,” Blake answered with a straight face, but inwardly he grimaced at the thought of crème brûlée to go. What a faux pas.
The server groaned in disgust. “Yes, sir.” And went on his way.
The moment they were alone again, Blake dove in. “Jane, I have something I need to say.” He paused for her attention. Then, realizing she might take his statement as a more celebratory preamble, he rushed through the rest of his speech. “I’ve led you on. While I at one time believed that you had everything that I wanted in a woman, I’ve known for quite some time now that I can never have feelings for you. At the risk of sounding cliché, it’s truly me, not you.”
Jane took a sip of her wine, her expression showing no turmoil, no devastation, no sign of impending tears.
He must not have been clear.
“Perhaps I should say this another way—I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” That was too passive. “We shouldn’t see each other anymore. Jane, I’m breaking up with you.”
Again, no response.
This was becoming frustrating. He tried to hide the irritation as he prodded her for acknowledgment. “You do understand what I’m saying, don’t you?”
She set her glass down before meeting his eyes. “I understand you perfectly, Blake.”
Her eyes, he noted, were still perfectly clear. Maybe she wasn’t going to be upset after all. That was somewhat disappointing to his ego though much more convenient since they were in public. A woman in tears on a date always put her companion in poor light.
Jane continued with stoicism. “You should know that I’m not surprised. I’m well aware that we lack the chemistry that is usually expected from a couple that is courting. I also don’t have feelings for you. However, I don’t think that’s any reason we should call it quits. In fact, now that we’ve both admitted the truth of our emotions, or lack thereof, we can potentially take our relationship to the next level.”
Blake’s brow fell into confusion. “I’m not sure I’m following you.” That was embarrassing. After all he’d done to prepare himself for this breakup he was the one that had been caught off guard.
Jane dabbed at her mouth with her linen napkin then folded it precisely into quarters before returning it to her lap. He liked that about her—her attention to minute detail. She really was very much his ideal woman. Or what he’d once thought was his ideal woman. Drea had chosen well for his would-be wife. The level of knowledge she had about him would be violating if it weren’t so comforting. He shut that thought down before his brain could wrap around the contrast.
Jane leaned forward in her seat. “I’m saying, Blake, that I don’t believe love is a requirement in marriage. I’d even go so far as to say that love should not be included at all. It can be a distraction in a successful union.”
“That’s ridiculous. Love is practically synonymous with marriage.” Blake heard himself saying the words, wondering where in the hell they’d come from. He’d never thought much about love in romantic terms. He’d simply always assumed that once he found the right woman, it would follow. Yet another instance where he’d been wrong.
Jane placed laced her fingers together, careful to keep her elbows off the table. “Think of matrimony as a business contract—isn’t it much easier to work with someone that you don’t have strong feelings for? Sure, you want to get along—and you and I get along well enough—but anything deeper than that, your dealings become complicated and all sense of logic and judgment flies out the window.”
Blake couldn’t help nodding. He’d learned that lesson in the early days of his career. Going into business with friends never worked out well. Someone always got emotional, someone always lost money …
Oh.
He understood what Jane was trying to illustrate. Dear God, those had been his thoughts on marriage early on as well. Had been for as long as he’d considered the possibility. Jane was speaking the words he’d have written in a diary, if he’d been self-indulgent enough to keep one. When had he changed his mind?
When he’d met Andrea Dawson, that’s when.
But she wasn’t in his life anymore, so she shouldn’t be a factor in his decision-making.
And what decision was he making, anyway? He could feel his blood pressure rising, even as his date’s cheeks remained as pale as he’d ever seen them. “What are you talking about exactly, Jane?”
“I’m simply suggesting a marriage of convenience.”
He would have looked for the hidden cameras from a reality prank show had Jane’s demeanor not been completely sincere.
“Look, I know what you want in a wife. Your expectations were made clear by your assistant. By Andy.”
Blake wondered if Jane could tell that his heart skipped a beat at the mention of Andy’s name.
“My expectations are similar.” The way she continued on, it seemed she was oblivious. “I’d like to have a home, a good income, one child. Two, perhaps. Security is important to me, both financially and emotionally. And the ability to spend time on the things I want to pursue. I’d like to work on a charity for Alzheimer’s, for example. Head the parents’ board at my children’s school. Be a model wife.”
He listened intently. Her dream future sounded very familiar. “That sounds like a pleasant life. And you want all of this without love?”
“I think the only way to assure this type of security is without love. Love interferes. It blinds you. It allows you to settle. I no longer expect much from love.” Her expression briefly clouded. “Plenty of cultures rely on arranged marriages to build a mutual respect over time, thus creating a lasting relationship that ‘love’ never could.” Her face hardened again.
Was that what he’d been willing to do with Andrea? To settle? To throw a log on a fire that was already on its way out? The idea left a bad taste in Blake’s mouth, but it also resonated somewhere in an old part of his soul. This was what he’d always believed. Jane was making sense. Squash that annoying little voice inside saying his only love was gone.
He rubbed a finger along the crook of his chin. “You mentioned children. Did you want to adopt?” It was crazy that he was even asking. Where on earth did he expect this conversation to go?
“I’d prefer to have my babies the normal way. Which means that, yes, we’d have to be sexually active. With each other.” Her expression remained serious. “I don’t see that as a problem, though, do you? You’re an attractive man. I find you physically appealing.”
“Well, thank you.” He’d never been complimented in such a sterile manner. He’d never been less turned on by the proposition of sex.
She shrugged. “It’s fact. I’d guess you feel the same about me. I passed your initial screening, after all. Plus you’ve seen me for several dates. Obviously you must find something pleasing about my appearance.”
Blake opened his mouth, but hesitated to respond. He was simultaneously impressed and appalled by Jane’s detached approach to the conversation, and he wasn’t quite sure what he should say. Was she that damaged? How far had he come on his own emotional journey to recognize that? He chose, in the end, to match her tone. “You are a beautiful woman. I’m sure very few men would disagree.”
She smiled slightly. It was creepy, almost, the way it never reached her eyes. “Then the only thing we haven’t explored is our sexual compatibility.”
Blake raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to seduce me?” He’d been unconventionally hit on before, but this took the cake by far. It was actually weird as hell. It made the Andy hate-fuck look downright romantic.
“I’m trying to secure the open-ended details in our potential arrangement.”
“You’re proposing that we sleep with each other.” Or not sleep with each other, as he would typically stipulate.
She sighed. “I’m proposing that we sleep with each other in order to make sure that we actually are a suitable couple. Because as far as I can see, everything else about us is ideal in every way.”
Blake worked his jaw as he worked the idea in his head. “I’m not immediately opposed.” Something in his chest itched, but he ignored it. Jane’s proposition was exactly the arrangement he’d set out to find. It was … perfect, actually. He didn’t have to dine alone. He’d have suitable arm candy at his work functions. Someone to pose with for a portrait above his mantel.
And even if he spent the rest of his days secretly pining for Andrea, he would not be doing an injustice to his wife. Jane didn’t want more. Which was superb since he couldn’t give more to anyone ever again.
It was the most practical, logical plan that had ever been presented to him. He couldn’t think of one good reason not to pursue it.
As he moved closer to accepting Jane’s proposition, the itching in his chest increased until it was more of an ache. Heartburn, he decided. The meal had been rich, and he’d rushed it in anticipation for his talk with Jane. He had some calcium chews in the car he was certain would remedy the problem.
He casually rubbed at his breastbone. “You do have me intrigued. Strangely. If we pursue this, what would you suggest happens next? Do we continue to date as we have? Or do we make an appointment for the justice of the peace?” Surely a huge wedding wouldn’t be expected if theirs was a marriage of convenience.
“No ceremony yet. We still have the last compatibility test to pass.” She said it so matter-of-factly, it took Blake a moment to remember what the compatibility test was.
“Oh, right. The seduction.” He felt his face heat. “Should we just…” The discussion was a bit awkward considering that he wasn’t really feeling it. He was sure he could if he tried. In the proper environment. Not here with onlookers and after a bottle of wine. No, the setting simply wasn’t conducive to sexual arousal.
Jane pursed her lips. “Why don’t we settle up here and continue this discussion elsewhere. At my place, perhaps?”
That suggestion should have made Blake feel better, but now his wrong-environment excuse would be put to the test. It made him nervous—he’d never failed a woman in that department, and he wasn’t looking for tonight to be a first. Maybe he should call it a night.
On the other hand, this was his chance, wasn’t it? His last shot at the picture-perfect home life he’d imagined for himself for so long. If not Andy—no, he meant if not Jane, then who? Hire another matchmaker? Try to find another woman who didn’t mind a loveless marriage?
No. This was a once-or-never deal. And even though he had no enthusiasm to pursue it, he felt somehow obligated to do so anyway. This was what he’d signed up for.
After the bill was settled, they walked to the valet stand in silence. Blake handed over his ticket, and Jane linked her arm through his as they waited for his car to arrive. He forced himself not to tense at her touch, wondering if it would be harder to relax when it was skin on skin instead of her bare arm through his jacket. He would fail the compatibility test if he stiffened at this simple junction.
What was wrong with him, anyway? He should be enjoying this. He was about to get it on with a beautiful woman—why was he so … turned off? Surely he was too young to need the little blue pill. It had to be stress. Yes, that was it. Stress was also playing at his heartburn. All he needed to do was get himself in the B-Zone and he’d be fine.
Deep breaths. Focus.
“It’s been a nice evening, Blake.” Jane’s voice drifted into the B-Zone, which immediately kicked Blake out of it. “After the last few dates, especially.”
Another deep breath.
Except his interest was piqued. “What do you mean after the last few dates?”
She shrugged. “The other nights have been pleasant as well—don’t get me wrong. Tonight, though, everything went off without a hitch—for once. No lost reservations, no missing wallets, no wrong movie times. Though the valet is taking a while to get your car, so maybe I spoke too soon.” She laughed. “I’m only kidding. I’m sure they haven’t misplaced your car. And that’s my point. Tonight there has been none of that. It’s been nice. I’m … happy … about where we’re headed.”
Blake nodded absentmindedly. Happy. He hadn’t put much thought to the series of misfortunes that had marred their previous evenings. It was almost humorous how much had gone wrong for them. Repeatedly. Another couple may have taken their bad luck as a sign that they shouldn’t be together, would have assumed that the gods were out to sabotage them.
Or a person.
Something nagged at the back of his mind, a swirling whisper of an idea that began to take shape into a concrete notion. All of his other dates with Jane … the common thread … the element that had been missing in tonight’s dinner plans …
Andrea.
No. She couldn’t have. She wouldn’t.
But he knew Andy, knew that she could be passionate and irrational. Knew she had a hot temper and spontaneous nature. She’d burned Max Ellis’s employee files, and nearly his entire office, on a whim. She did have it in her to be subversive. And shitty. And … romantic.
Because, whatever motive would she have to wreck his courtship with Jane when Andrea had been hired to be his matchmaker? It made no sense.
Unless …
He put the pieces together and they fit perfectly, but was that because he wanted it to go that way? If there was only the slightest chance that he might be right, he had to pursue it.
With an excitement he hadn’t felt all evening, Blake pulled away from Jane and signaled the doorman. “Excuse me; can you hail a cab please?”
“Blake, your car’s coming now,” Jane protested, pointing to the valet who was pulling in.
“A cab, please,” he repeated. Then he turned to address his date. “The cab is for you.”
Jane raised her brows, but had the grace not to make a scene.
Blake was eager to be on his way, but he took a moment to do this right, speaking with an honesty he hadn’t offered to anyone in a long time—anyone except Andrea, that was. “Thank you for your offer, Jane. At one point in time it would have been tempting. More than tempting. I agree with you wholeheartedly that love makes any contract risky and tumultuous. It’s also the best damn feeling in the world. Not just being loved, but being in love. It’s chaotic, yes, and unpredictable. And I might get my heart broken”—oh, he hoped not—“but I’d rather have the ups and the downs than security. I’d rather take the chance at being miserable and alone than say I didn’t do everything in my power to nab the love of my life. So I’m sorry, but I have to end this relationship.”
That was all the effort he could devote to his second attempt at a breakup. He didn’t even wait to see Jane’s response. Instead, he tucked a fifty in her palm and said, “This is for your fare. And maybe a value meal, because the salad you ordered at dinner could not have filled you up. You deserve happiness, even if you aren’t asking for it. Especially if so.”
Then he tipped the valet, climbed into his car, and headed to the woman he should have been with all along. If she thought he was too headstrong, then too bad. He was taking his chances. Somehow he managed to obey the speed limit, but only just.
* * *
Andy woke with a start, her mouth dry and her face sticky. She didn’t remember falling asleep, yet she must have because here she was waking up on the couch. The light shining through the front windows was dim. Was it evening light or morning light? She sat up and tried to get her bearings.
“How are you feeling?” Lacy asked quietly.
Andy turned to find her sister sitting on the armchair, lacing up the Doc Martens she liked to wear when she went out. It must be night, then. Lacy had planned to meet up with Darrin and some other musicians at one of their favorite karaoke bars.
“I have a headache.” Andy was surprised how bad it was, actually. They’d only had one bottle before she’d passed out that afternoon, and Lacy had drunk half of it. Or maybe most of it had been consumed by Andy. Honestly, it was probably the heavy crying that had hurt her head the most.
That and the heartache. Arg, the heartache. How was anyone supposed to know how awful it felt? She finally felt an ounce of Lacy’s grief, knowing the man she loved was gone forever. Her pity had thrown her over the edge.
It had also put her in a foul mood. Though Lacy had been a great comfort to her when she’d come home that afternoon, Andy was glad that her sister had a gig that night. She really needed some time alone to sort through her ever-shifting emotions.
Lacy stood and switched on the overhead light.
Andy groaned and rubbed her temples. The light wasn’t bothering her in a hugely hung-over sort of way, but just in an I’d-rather-be-mopey-in-the-dark sort of way.
“There’s ibuprofen on top of the fridge,” Lacy offered.
“I know where the GD ibuprofen is,” Andy snapped. “I’m the one who put it there to begin with.”
“Well, sorry.” Lacy’s tone was sarcastic instead of apologetic.
But it wasn’t as sarcastic as it could have been, which made Andy suddenly feel like an apology was necessary. “No. I’m the one who’s sorry.” She didn’t really feel sorry, though. She just felt bitter and mean. Still, taking it out on Lacy wasn’t fair. “I’m just…” How to finish that sentence?
Lacy put a reassuring hand on Andy’s shoulder. “I know. You’re sad.”
“Actually, I’m past sad. Now I’m feeling a little angry.” Or a lot angry. “I’m getting that ibuprofen.”
Andy headed to the kitchen as much to escape her sister as to get the pain reliever. When she’d come home after quitting her job, she’d been gutted. She’d truly thought she and Blake had something special. How could she have been so wrong?
Now, though, her mood brought in another kind of thoughts—the rage-filled kind. It wasn’t her who’d been wrong. It was Blake. Stupid, douchey Blake. How much of an ass was he not to realize what was right in front of him? He thought he was in love with Jane? He wasn’t.
Andy knew that as surely as she knew Blake hated reality television. So he’d been on more than a handful of dates with Jane. That meant shit. His reports had been pleasant but lackluster. She’d seen him more engaged when he played with Puppy. She’d seen him more excited when he’d beaten his top score on Spiderman Pinball. She’d seen more light in his eyes when he’d locked them on her own during a passionate round of office sex.
Apparently, personal happiness was not on the list of Blake’s lifetime musts. She should have known that. He’d asked for specific qualities in a wife—not once had he said that she needed to be someone who brought him joy. Didn’t he realize what he was missing out on?
And now he was going to ask his dream woman to be his bride. His drear woman. What a miserable existence.
Andy glanced at the clock above the stove. It was almost nine thirty. He’d probably already asked.
Goddammit. How could he?
She had to stop herself from kicking the appliance. A broken toe was no way to help a broken heart. Though it might be worth it to get some of her aggression out.
Lacy clomped into the kitchen behind her. Andy imagined she was trying to be quiet, but it was impossible in those boots.
“You should come with me tonight.”
“No,” Andy said, reaching for the pain pills. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not? It will get your mind off things.”
“I cannot be with people right now. Even you. Sorry.” She was so worked up, she couldn’t get her fingers to open the bottle.
“Okay. But what are you going to do? I’m worried you’re going to spend all night drinking yourself into a stupor.” Lacy held her palm out toward Andy, silently asking for the bottle.
“That was this afternoon. And I’m not drinking anymore.” With a heavy sigh, Andy handed the medicine to her sister. “I’m actually planning to do nothing but sit on the couch and watch some sad chick flick and probably eat a whole carton of Ben and Jerry’s.”
“Equally destructive behavior, but I guess you’re allowed a day of that.” Lacy dropped two pills into Andy’s hand.
Andy closed her fist around the ibuprofen and snatched her hand away. “Allowed? Damn right, I’m allowed. Not all of us can bury our heartache like you.” She swallowed the pills in one gulp that she pretended also removed the horrible thing she’d just said.
She closed her eyes tight. Stupid, stupid, stupid. When she opened her eyes again, she looked to her sister, whose head was down. “Lacy, I’m sorry. That was really uncalled for.” God, she was such a bitch. She had no reason to take her anger out on Lacy. “See? I’m not suitable company.”
Lacy brought her face up, her expression blank, giving nothing away. “You know what, though? You’re right. I don’t deal with my emotions well. I’m working on it, in my own way, and I’ve so appreciated that you haven’t pushed me.”
Now Andy felt like an even bigger bitch. She hadn’t pushed Lacy to deal with her grief because she was lazy and self-centered—not because she was trying to be thoughtful of her space. Tears pricked at her eyes. “I’ve been a horrible sister.”
“Nope. You’ve been exactly what I needed. So. Whatever you need to do, do it. I’ll respect your methods of dealing with this. And I’m here for you if you need me.”
Andy pulled her sister into a giant hug. “God, I love you, Lacy. So much.”
They held each other for several long moments before breaking away. Though it didn’t fix everything—or anything, really—it did make life seem just a bit more bearable. Assuming, of course, her sister meant what she said. The guilt could almost overwhelm the pain if she thought like that.
“You’re going to be good then? I could call and cancel if—”
“No,” Andy said, cutting her off. “Go. Have fun. Take a cab home if it gets too late. My phone’s off, but I’ll check it later if you need to text or leave a message.”
“Got it, Mom.”
Andy stayed in the kitchen until she heard the front door shut behind Lacy. Then she grabbed a can of diet soda from the fridge and headed to the living room. Despite the heartwarming moment she’d shared with her sister, Andy was still angry. And her rage was snowballing. So much so that she couldn’t sit still. She paced the apartment, wanting to punch something, kick something. The feeling was so strong, she imagined she could hear her anger taken out like hailstones pelleting against her window. Plink, plink, plink.
Maybe that wasn’t her imagination.
She froze, listening. The sound came again. Plink. There actually were hailstones pelleting against her window. Or some sort of stone anyway. Cautiously she approached the windows and peered out. The sight that greeted her pulled at her heartstrings, melting her ever so slightly.
Then, she remembered … everything … and she hardened again. So far she’d managed to leave Donovan InfoTech with her referral intact. But Blake Donovan was outside her apartment. If he didn’t leave soon, she wasn’t sure she could maintain that status.