Chapter 3 #2
Winnie was long gone—the place was run by two transplanted yuppies who’d installed an espresso machine and served biscotti, but you could still find the best doughnuts and French fries in the world. Susan usually contented herself with a salad and latte, but tonight she was in need of comfort food.
She slid into a booth, ordered a huge, greasy cheeseburger and fries, washed down by a Coke, and leaned back, closing her eyes, as the sound of New-Age music drifted in the background.
She hadn’t eaten anything at the party tonight.
She’d only nibbled at lunch—it was no wonder that she’d gotten overwrought She had to remember to eat—there was no frilly, too-small wedding dress to starve herself into.
Her doomed Aunt Tallulah’s satin wedding dress fit her frame perfectly—if she lost any weight it wouldn’t hang as well, and there was hardly time to get it altered.
Anyway, she needed junk food tonight with a passion that would brook no denial. She smiled faintly. And her mother drought her devoid of passion. Not when it came to food.
She was halfway through her fries when something made her look up toward the door, in time to see Jake Wyczynski, his tall body shielding another man, the soft murmur of voices reaching to her booth.
She ducked her head, hoping he wouldn’t see her but simply follow his friend out, but luck was against her.
Ure other man left, and Jake ambled toward her, with that sexy, graceful slouch that had become unaccountably annoying.
He slid into the other side of the booth without waiting for an invitation, and helped himself to one of her French fries.
“Now who would have thought I’d run into the ice princess at a sleazy all-night diner?” he said, leaning back against the cracked vinyl banquette. “This hardly seems like your kind of place.”
“You don’t know anything about me. What makes you think you’re an expert on what my kind of place is? Some people head for a bar, I head for French fries when I need to—” She’d almost said “drown her sorrows.”
“When I need to think.”
“What do you need to think about?” He took another fry. “Never mind, you’re going to tell me it’s none of my damned business.”
“I’m not that rude.”
“Not to most people, I’ve noticed. But with me you’re able to rise to the occasion.”
“You bring out the worst in me.”
“Why?”
She closed her eyes briefly and sighed. “This is a crazy conversation. Go away, Jake. I have more important things on my mind.”
“I like the way you say my name.”
Her eyes flew open. “Don’t!”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t flirt with me. And don’t deny that was what you were doing. I’ve got enough on my mind without that.”
He reached for another French fry and popped it in his mouth. She had to admit he had a disturbingly sexy mouth. “What’s on your mind, then? Cold feet? Having second thoughts about dear old Edward?”
“No,” she said flatly. “Edward is everything I’ve ever wanted in life, and we’ll have a wonderful life together. It’s only natural to feel nervous when you’re about to take such a major step in life.”
“You don’t take too many chances, do you?”
“Not if I can help it I like security. Surprises disturb me.”
He sighed. “You can’t control life, Susan. It has a habit of throwing curve balls when you least expect it. You need to learn to duck or bat.”
She liked the way he said her name, too, she drought dismally. “I was never very good at softball,” she said. “I can simply refuse to play.”
“Life is hardball. But you’ll miss a lot if you’re too scared to take chances.”
“I’m not scared.”
“Aren’t you?” He reached for another French fry, and she glared at him.
“Take one more and you die,” she said. “Order your own if you want fries.”
“I’ll take that as an invitation.” He rose and went to the counter, and her eyes followed him with dubious fascination.
She should be home in bed at this hour, not having a midnight rendezvous with a dangerous man.
And there was no question about it, Jake Wyczynski was a dangerous man indeed, at least to Susan Abbott.
He slid back into the booth, a cup of coffee in his hand. Edward would have stayed put, snapping his well-manicured fingers until the harried waitress came to take his order.
“You can’t find truly great French fries outside of this country and Canada. It could be what I miss most,” he said.
“Every place in the world has McDonald’s.”
He laughed, a low, lazy laugh. “That’s what you think. I keep away from big cities if I can help it.”
“Where do you live? For that matter, who the hell are you?” she demanded, sliding over to the corner and curling her feet up underneath her.
She’d given up fighting for the moment She’d come to her haven, the one place where she was certain she wouldn’t run into anyone she knew, and he was there.
There were some things not worth fighting.
An hour’s conversation over coffee and French fries wouldn’t do any harm. Besides, she was curious.
“I don’t want to talk about me.”
“Tough,” she said sweetly. “What have you got to hide?”
“Unlike you, a hell of a lot.”
“What makes you think I don’t have anything to hide?” she demanded, oddly offended.
“You’ve lived a blameless life, haven’t you? Straight As in the proper prep school, one of the seven sisters colleges, the perfect daughter, the best friend, the proper fiancée. Always doing and saying the right thing.”
It shouldn’t have wounded. She smiled tightly. “You’re very astute.”
“Except that I don’t think that’s what you really are. I think that beneath that polished, perfect exterior is wild woman trying to escape.”
“Nope,” she said. “There is no wild woman inside me. You’re a romantic.”
“Yes.”
“So tell me how you know my godmother, who has to be the most elusive human being on this planet Where do you live, and what do you do for a living? And don’t brush me off with some glib answer.
I’m curious. Consider it a gift of charity.
I need to be distracted from the pressures of my wedding, Entertain me. ”
He toyed with his cup of coffee, and she looked at his hands. They were rough, scarred, tanned and oddly elegant as they encircled the thick mug. Good hands, gentle but strong.
“All right,” he said. “Where do I live? Right now it’s in an abandoned garage in the middle of your family’s property. That’ll be home for another week. Then I’ll head to Spain, then on to East Africa, and then I’m not sure.”
“You don’t have a home?”
“Several, in fact. Nothing particularly elegant. The old farmhouse in Spain is probably in better shape than the other places, but that’s because I spend more time there.
A hunting cabin in the Northwest Territories of Canada.
A tiny cattle ranch in Argentina. A truly disreputable house in Venice.
A number of other places scattered throughout the world. ”
“So instead of Indiana Jones you’re really a jet-setting millionaire, traveling between your many homes?”
He laughed. “Nope. I don’t like to be tied down. I have a knack for making money when I need it. Louisa says I’m the luckiest human being she knows, but I’m not so sure of that. I just have a certain ability to know what will work and what won’t.”
“So you basically wander the world, making investments like some banker? It sounds boring.”
He laughed. “The last job I had was building bridges in East Africa. Trust me, it wasn’t boring in the slightest.”
“How do you know Louisa?”
“She’s my aunt Married to my uncle Jack for forty-eight years, until he died in his sleep. Damned tame way for the old man to go, too.” He sighed. “She’s a character, your godmother. A holy terror, not afraid of anything or anyone, with the biggest heart and the deepest laugh.”
“She sounds like the stories I’ve heard of my aunt Tallulah,” Susan said faintly.
“I imagine they’ve got a lot in common.”
“It’s probably just as well she didn’t come for the wedding. She’d be sorely disappointed in her godchild.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You’ve already pointed out what a good little girl I am. Always doing and saying the right thing. Do you think someone like Louisa would appreciate such a boring little paragon?” She couldn’t keep the faint bitterness out of her voice.
“The thing about Louisa,” Jake said in a soft voice, “is that she knows people. She’d see right through you to the woman beneath. I think she’d love you.”
She jerked her head up, startled. “Why?”
“Because you have a fierce heart. You make me think of some fairy-tale princess, the whole world trapped inside you while you sleep.”
“Don’t start thinking you’re going to awaken me with a kiss,” she warned him, feeling a sudden knot in her stomach.
“Who’s talking about kissing?” he replied lazily.
“I’ve got to go.” She almost knocked her half empty Coke over on the Formica counter in her haste to get away. She fumbled in her purse, and he reached out and put his hand over hers, stilling her agitated movements.
“My treat,” he said. “It’s the least Louisa would expect of me.”
His hand was warm, big, strong, and she couldn’t control the stray shiver that ran through her body. She jerked it away, rather than argue. “It’s been nice talking to you, Mr. Wyczynski.”
“Always polite,” he murmured wryly. “You don’t always have to come up with the polite lies, Susan.”
“You haven’t lived in civilized society recently. Polite lies are an important part of life.”
“All right How about you don’t have to lie to me?”
She rose, staring at him, and she knew with sudden certainty that lying to Jake Wyczynski was more important than any of the small social lies the told daily. “I’d better get home and get to bed,” she said nervously. “I’ve got the week from hell ahead of me.”
Too late she realized how that sounded. “Not that I’m not happy and excited,” she continued quickly. “I mean, what bride wouldn’t be? It’s just?—”
“Go home, Susan,” he said gently. “You can come up with excuses tomorrow.
He was wrong about her. She wasn’t a coward, not usually. But at that moment she didn’t have any fight left in her. With a faint, nervous shrug, she turned and ran.