Читать книгу Out of Character - Diana Miller - Страница 9

Kristen looked up from her iPad when Jillian walked into the kitchen at eleven the next morning. “How did you sleep?”

Jillian headed directly for the coffeemaker. “My brain feels numb thanks to those sleeping pills you made me take.”

Kristen waved her complaint away. “So drink an extra cup of coffee. The doctor said to take them because you needed to sleep.”

“Which was ridiculous since I always sleep.” Jillian set a blue and white mug on the white quartz countertop and filled it with coffee.

“You’ve never tried to do it with a wounded shoulder. How is it today?”

Kristen’s obvious concern made Jillian stop griping about the sleeping pills. She carefully rotated her left shoulder. “It barely twinges.”

“Thanks to your good night’s sleep, no doubt. Do you want me to change your bandage?”

“I can manage.” Jillian carried her mug to the table and sat down across from Kristen.

“Did you take your antibiotics?”

Jillian could only handle so much concern. “What are you, my mother?” She swigged her strong French Roast. The familiar heat and tang lifted the fog in her brain long before the caffeine hit her system, a Pavlovian response she always appreciated.

“God, doctors really do make lousy patients,” Kristen said. “You’re lucky the guy didn’t kick you out of the ER when you started arguing about whether you needed stitches.”

“He just laughed.” Which is exactly what she’d have done in his place. Kristen was right about doctors.

“He also gave you stitches.”

“That doesn’t mean I needed them.” Jillian took another satisfying sip of coffee then set her mug on the table. “You didn’t have to stick around this morning. Especially after I ruined your last night.” Kristen had insisted on collecting Jillian’s car from the lodge, picking her up at the ER, and baby-sitting her for the rest of the evening.

“Making sure you’re all right is much more important than anything else,” Kristen said. “You could have been killed.”

Jillian’s hands chilled. She wrapped them around the mug. “I know. If Mark hadn’t reacted so quickly and pushed me down…” She shook her head, trying to dislodge the memories. “Speaking of Mark, did he call? He said he would.”

“Not yet. He’s probably letting you sleep.”

“I hope he’s all right. I didn’t see him after the rescue squad hauled me away.”

“The article doesn’t mention him, so I’m sure he’s fine.” Kristen handed Jillian a section of the Denver Post. “It made the front page, bottom left. I watched the news this morning, and the police are still convinced a kook decided to take out a few skiers.”

“Colorado has its share of crazies,” Jillian said. “I’ll bet they never catch him.”

Kristen went over to the counter and picked up the coffeepot. “They might, with the reward the resort’s offering. The cops will make solving this a top priority, since the ski areas will lose a fortune if tourists decide it’s safer to vacation somewhere else.” She refilled Jillian’s mug, then her own. “Did you get to the part where they mention you?”

Jillian looked up. “They promised not to.”

“They don’t give your name, just say a woman was shot but her injury was minor, thanks to her ski jacket.” Kristen grinned. “Maybe Obermeyer will hire you to do commercials about how the outstanding construction, durability, and insulation of their ski jackets saved your life.” She returned the coffeepot to the warmer. “I assume you don’t feel up to skiing this afternoon.”

“I think I’ll wait until tomorrow, at least,” Jillian said. “You go, and take my car. Weren’t you talking about skiing Copper Mountain?”

“I can catch the shuttle.”

“Take the car. I’m not planning on going anywhere until Mark calls. After how he protected me last night, I think I can probably trust him enough to get into his car.”

* * * *

Mark hadn’t called by nine that night, when Jillian’s throbbing shoulder convinced her to take a sleeping pill and go to bed.

The next morning, her shoulder barely ached, and Jillian spent the day skiing with Kristen. Mark hadn’t called her cell phone, but maybe he hadn’t been able to get through while they were skiing and hadn’t been sure she’d get a message. When they got back to the townhouse, Jillian rushed to the phone there, expecting to find a message. She didn’t.

Kristen grabbed a Diet Coke out of the refrigerator. “Call him.”

“He didn’t give me his cell phone number because his service is bad at his townhouse. He gave me the number of the landline at his townhouse, but it doesn’t have voicemail so I can’t leave a message.” As Jillian knew because she’d already called him several times. “I suppose I could call the rental office for the townhouses and have someone leave him a note, but if he doesn’t want to talk to me—”

“My God, you’re not back in high school calling a guy who barely noticed you in calculus.” Kristen waved her unopened soda. “You spent a night and part of the next day with him, even got shot at together. He probably couldn’t get through to your cell phone and lost your phone number here.”

She’d never thought of that. Jillian went into the kitchen to get her phone, found the rental office’s number, and called. Three minutes later, she walked back into the living room, feeling numb. “He’s gone.”

Kristen looked up from her magazine. “Gone?”

“Checked out yesterday.”

“Didn’t you say he was staying all week?”

“That’s what he told me.” Jillian sank down onto the sofa beside Kristen. “I can’t believe I fell for his line about it being more than a one-night stand to him.”

“Except you had plans for a second night. It must be something else.”

Jillian didn’t like the direction her thoughts were taking.

“The shooting must have convinced him to go home,” Kristen said with obvious disgust. “Easterners are wimps. Plus he’s an accountant.”

“Or maybe he’s married.” The words left a bitter taste in Jillian’s mouth. “Maybe the shooting made him decide to clean up his act and never cheat again.”

“I don’t think—”

“God, it makes so much sense now that I think about it.” She rubbed her cheeks with her palms. “We talked so much, but although I told him all about myself, he never told me much of anything personal. Not even what part of the city he lives in or the name of his accounting firm or exactly what he does. He said his wife died in a car accident six years ago, but he didn’t want to talk about it. Maybe that was because she’s still alive.”

“You could be right,” Kristen said.

“I know I’m right.” Jillian scrubbed her lips, trying to remove every trace of him. “That’s why he brought me coffee in bed. He probably does it every morning for his wife.”

“He brought you coffee in bed?”

Jillian nodded.

“No wonder you fell for him. Men can be such scums.”

She nodded again.

“You’re lucky to be rid of him.”

Jillian got to her feet. “You’re absolutely right. Let’s go get something to eat.”

* * * *

“How could I have been so stupid?”

Jillian and Kristen had gone to an Italian restaurant in nearby Dillon for dinner. Jillian had been determined not to mention Mark, but by the time their waiter brought the salads, she’d given up.

“You weren’t stupid. You made a mistake,” Kristen said. “Every woman’s judgment goes to hell when it comes to men and sex.”

The warm sympathy in Kristen’s eyes nearly made Jillian break down. She shifted romaine, radicchio, and olives around her plate until she’d regained her control. “It wasn’t just about sex. I thought we connected in other ways. We seemed to think the same way. We liked the same kinds of movies and music and books. We both went to Harvard, although at different times and different schools.”

She dropped her fork onto her plate and studied her rearranged salad. “I can’t believe the personal things I told him, about how I grew up, about my family, even about Andy. About you and your family and everything you all did for me.” She looked up. “Things I didn’t tell Andy for months.”

“I understand why you’re always cautious and keep your life and feelings under control.” Kristen twirled her wine glass. “But it’s possible to be too cautious and controlled about some things. Like love.” Her eyes were on her swirling wine. “In the almost fifteen years I’ve known you, you’ve never let yourself fall madly in love.”

“I loved Andy.”

“You were still holding a part of yourself back with Andy, being cautious.” Kristen set down her wine. “This time you weren’t. For once you let yourself fall for a guy without analyzing it to death first, and I’ll bet you were happier while it lasted than you’ve been in a long time.”

Jillian rolled her eyes. “For two whole days.”

“It didn’t work out, but you’ll survive. And you haven’t turned into your mother.”

“Except for the picking the wrong man part, but at least I didn’t give him any money,” Jillian said. “Although I still might blow my next paycheck on Nordstrom’s shoe sale or Powerball tickets.”

“No way,” Kristen said. “What you should do is try letting go again, but with someone who deserves it.”

A candle flickered inside a red glass cylinder against the wall, the flame nearly as mesmerizing as Mark’s eyes. Jillian dragged her gaze away, picked up her fork, and speared a slice of roasted red pepper. “How could I have been so wrong about him?”

“Because he’s either an accomplished liar who cheats all the time or a basically good guy who cheated this once because he couldn’t resist you,” Kristen said. “Recognizing either of those types as jerks is tough.”

Jillian set down her fork, the red pepper slice still impaled on it, guilt and sadness a cold, heavy pressure against her chest. “I really liked him.”

“I know.” Kristen reached across the table and squeezed Jillian’s hand. “But you’ll find someone new you like even better, or maybe you’ll decide it’s worth giving Andy a second chance. It will happen because you’re a wonderful person, and you deserve it.”

“I appreciate how you’re always there for me.” Jillian blinked away the moisture Kristen’s words had triggered. “Even when you were in Denver, and I was in Boston, I could call you, and you’d make me feel better.”

“You’ve done the same for me, more times than I can count.”

“You know what else?” Jillian lifted her chin. “Mark might have hurt me by running off, but he also used me and probably lied about being married. That makes me mad.”

“Good. You’re not going to let him ruin any more of your vacation,” Kristen said. “What you’re going to do is have fun. Then when we get back to Denver, you’re going to get Mark’s phone number and leave him a nasty message. And hope his wife intercepts it.”

“I’m so lucky to have you for a friend.”

“Damn right,” Kristen said as their waiter approached with enormous plates of pasta. “I’m going to make sure you enjoy the rest of this vacation.”

* * * *

To her surprise, Jillian did have fun the next day, primarily because Kristen was on a mission from God to keep her from moping. They took the shuttle to the ski area, avoiding the parking hassles inevitable on a sunny Sunday with nine inches of fresh powder, and spent the day skiing with some law school friends of Kristen’s, including two attractive males she swore were single and straight. Neither was Jillian’s type, but she still enjoyed herself enough to agree to join the group for dinner. She hadn’t been able to resist scanning every lift line and ski slope on the off chance Mark hadn’t left, but she’d managed not to let her failure to spot him ruin the day.

He wasn’t going to ruin her evening either. Jillian refused to check for messages when she and Kristen got back to the townhouse. Instead, she took a shower. Despite her resolve, she remembered another shower. The one she’d taken at Mark’s townhouse.

She’d finished wetting her hair when he’d stepped into the stall. To be honest, she’d been expecting him, considering how insistent he’d been that she showered before she left.

Silently, he slipped behind her.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Washing your hair.” He aimed the nozzle so the water flowed down her back then rubbed in shampoo, the hint of coconut reminding her of him.

He massaged her scalp for several luxurious minutes then positioned her hair back under the shower spray. When he’d rinsed out all the shampoo, he kissed the top of her head. “Your hair sparkles.” He combed his fingers through her dripping locks. “And it feels like silk.” He ran his fingers through her hair once more then picked up the shampoo bottle.

“That was wonderful, but I usually don’t soap it twice,” she admitted.

He squirted shampoo onto his fingers. “It’s not for your head.”

Within seconds, Jillian’s knees had turned to shower gel, and she was leaning against him, her breath coming in gasps.

“I love the way you respond whenever I touch you,” he said as he fingered her clit, his other hand soaping her nipple. “I can’t seem to get enough of you.” His erection was conducting its own massage against Jillian’s back.

The water had turned icy before they’d finally left the shower.

Damn him. Jillian turned off the water, angrily wiping a few tears with the back of her hand. Obviously, that last time he’d finally managed to get enough of her. She dried off, dressed in jeans, a sweater, and running shoes, and pulled her wet hair into a ponytail. Then she went into the living room.

“Why aren’t you ready?” Kristen asked. “We’ll be late.”

“I decided not to go.” Jillian sat down on a chair beside the patio doors that led to the snow-piled deck. “I think I overdid it today.”

“Do you want me to stay here with you?” Kristen asked.

“Of course not.”

“You go out and have fun. I’ll just sit alone in the dark.”

Despite herself, Jillian laughed at Kristen’s whining tone. “You always claim your mother says that, but I’ve never heard her.”

“That’s because you’re aren’t her kid. She claims guilting us is one of the obligations of motherhood.” Kristen’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you decided not to let that bastard ruin your vacation.”

“I won’t. I don’t feel like going out because I’m tired. I was wounded a couple days ago.”

“You can’t blame me for being concerned,” Kristen said. “Look how long you hibernated after Andy.”

“Getting dumped by a man you’ve been with for over two years is a little different than a disastrous one-night stand.”

“He was more than a one-night stand, and you know it. That’s why you’re still upset.”

“I’m not upset.” When Kristen looked dubious, Jillian’s lips twisted into a rueful half-smile. “Okay, maybe I am a little. I need to sit around and feel sorry for myself for one night. But only one.” She raised her hand. “I hereby swear that after tonight, I won’t waste another nanosecond thinking about Mark Jefferson. Except what complete and total pond scum he turned out to be.”

“That’s the spirit.” Kristen stood up. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”

“Why, you want some competition for Patrick?”

Kristen tilted her head, her hair skimming one shoulder. “He’s rather hot, isn’t he?”

“Rather.” Patrick was a lawyer from Seattle who could have moonlighted as a GQ model. “The car keys are on the kitchen table.”

“I can take a cab and get a ride home.”

“Taking the car is easier, and I certainly won’t need it tonight. I think I’ll order pizza.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you—sometime.” Kristen shrugged unapologetically. “It’s vacation.”

After Kristen left, Jillian sat staring out the glass patio doors. The blinds were open, the outside lamp illuminating the deck and surrounding dark. It was snowing, just like that night in the chairlift, the same fat, lazy flakes. Then Mark had kissed her—

She flipped the blinds, shutting out the annoying snowflakes. Despite what she’d told Kristen, she was not thinking about Mark tonight. She’d eat something, watch a little TV, then go to bed early.

She didn’t feel like pizza. She’d toast a bagel. She walked over to the refrigerator.

A deafening blast shook the townhouse.

Jillian rammed against the refrigerator. She grabbed the handle as she struggled to stay on her feet. Glasses, dishes, pots, and pans crashed around her. A shelf of cookbooks slammed onto the floor, then the telephone and microwave. She covered her head with one arm, bracing herself for a barrage of wood and tiles.

The room stilled, walls and ceiling still intact.

Her pulse raced. The explosion had been close by. Someone could be hurt and need her help. Adrenaline surged the way it did in the ER. Jillian ran to the front door and jerked it open.

Cold air pummeled her. Cold air and smoke and gasoline. The smell of burning.

She stepped outside. An inferno blazed at the end of the driveway, ferocious flames licking in all directions as they devoured a car.

Her car.