Читать книгу Tall, Dark and Filthy Rich - Jill Monroe - Страница 8

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JESSIE ROLLED OUT OF BED and groaned. She flipped off her sleep mask. It was always hard waking up when most people were already several hours into their jobs.

But that wasn’t what made her heart start pounding. It was a sense of trouble. The nagging sensation that she’d agreed to…to something…wouldn’t leave her. After rubbing her eyes, she spotted an envelope by her bedside table, with her handwriting on the back.

Oh, yeah. Phone call. The faint memory of desperately searching for a pen. Writing something down.

Resignation filled her. How many times had she told herself not to answer the phone after being out all night? But with the loss of potential business, she’d never turn her ringer off.

Fully awake now, she could make out the details of the call.

Who the hell had phoned her at the ungodly hour of nine in the morning? Sure, that was probably a normal working time for most people. However, most folks reserved their dirt-worthy behavior for sometime after twilight. Good thing she was a night person.

She stretched, loosening her muscles. The dark panels covering the windows ensured that no bright Atlanta sunshine sneaked into her bedroom while she was trying to sleep.

It had also made finding her ever-moving lamp difficult, until she’d added that clapping device. Great gadget for a fumble-free life. Jessie fluffed one of her pillows, leaned against the padded headboard and took a calm, soothing breath.

From the cloud-soft shades of her pale gold comforter to the harmonious apricot of the drapes, everything about her bedroom was designed to fool her body into sleeping in the middle of the day. Now, if only Jessie could get her phone to cooperate.

She’d probably say yes to anything at nine in the morning, just so she could go back to sleep. She scanned her chicken scratching and prepared herself for what she’d agreed to.

Okay, not too bad. Interview for Just Between Us. The Atlanta afternoon talk show she usually watched while eating her breakfast.

Hmm, if this interview worked out, it could be better for business. That profile of her in the newspaper had already provided a nice spike in her income. More weeks like those, and she might be able to pay off the night scope and bullet camera.

Some women bought shoes.

Others liked purses.

Jessie couldn’t resist spy gadgets, and she’d been eyeing the Espion Digi-Cam Pen. Illegal in all fifty states, and with a price tag of over two grand, it was enough to make any gal squeal.

She rubbed the muscles of her neck. Sitting in the car always did hellish things to that area of her body. Then she saw the name she’d written underneath the time of her preinterview.

Cole Crawford.

Jessie blamed the fact that she’d fallen into bed way past four for not instantly recognizing it when she’d heard it. She was totally aware now. Her heartbeat quickened and her palms grew moist.

Hell, she was surprised she hadn’t written the O in the shape of a heart, as she had when she was sixteen. Over and over again in her history notebook she’d also doodled, “Jessie Crawford.”

What her sleep-deprived body hadn’t experienced this morning, she felt now. Full force. Her mouth went dry. The butterflies in her stomach decided to reemerge.

Maybe it was a good thing Cole Crawford had never kissed her. She probably would have dropped on the spot. Although dropped happy.

He’d been tall and lanky, and her idea of what a boy should look like.

What the hell? Her palms were tingling, for crying out loud. His name alone had her reverting to age sixteen. Without even trying. But then, that was always the way. Cole Crawford had never tried anything with her. Not once.

After dropping the envelope on the bed, she stomped into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her heated cheeks. She didn’t want to see Cole Crawford again. He was her ideal fantasy man, placed high atop his pedestal before she’d realized men could be jerks. He was all that a boy of her dreams should have been. Handsome. Smart. Big shoulders. Why would she ruin it by seeing him now?

Surely what she thought was hot in high school would not be what looked good today. Maybe those “big shoulders” had only appeared muscular and strong, because he was two years older. Maybe he was actually quite scrawny. What if he had grown a unibrow? A mullet? A person could change a lot in nine years.

Stop. Why was she doing this to herself?

Jessie had learned the truth long ago that Santa didn’t exist and neither did the tooth fairy. But for some reason she just didn’t want to destroy her faith that Cole Crawford was somewhere out there being perfect.

Almost every other illusion she had about life, like soul mates and fidelity, had been stomped into the ground. Couldn’t fate allow her to keep this one?

Unfortunately, she’d agreed to a fantasy-snatching appointment when she wasn’t thinking straight.

After a quick shower, she padded into her bedroom to peruse her closet. Her wardrobe didn’t elicit a lot of “oohs” and “ahhs.” She’d never needed much of one to begin with. Until she’d left the force, Jessie had worn her Atlanta PD uniform with pride. Home was casual—jeans and a T-shirt.

Maybe she should have tossed a few bucks toward adding another skirt or shirt in something other than black. But then, black was the only sensible choice on a stakeout.

Wait. There in the back. Something her mother had sent as a desperate attempt to make her girlie. Okay, it was lavender. Not her color of choice, but the blouse was at least professional looking. She paired that with a straight black skirt, her black high-heeled, steel-toed black boots, and her outfit was complete.

What would Cole think of her now?

And why would she care?

After pulling her long, straight blond hair into a ponytail, she brushed out her bangs. Jessie was ready to face the annihilation of her sole remaining castle-in-the-sky, whimsical delusion, which would make Cole Crawford just another guy.

And in case he wasn’t, she’d remind herself what kept him off-limits. Cole Crawford was married. With kids.

COLE LEFT HIS OFFICE and walked toward the studio’s break room. Jessie Huell should already be in the conference room, but he wanted to buy her a can of Coke before he joined her. He found that he was smiling, anticipating seeing her again.

Maybe they could have a laugh over it. He used to buy her a pop while she conjugated his Latin verbs. His dad had ridden his ass hard back then, and she’d been helping him out. After attending school all day and then working at Mr. Martin’s garage all afternoon, he could barely keep his eyes open for homework. Him bringing home a failing grade would have set his old man off.

Cole had probably escaped quite a few smacks due to Jessie’s talent with the future perfect tense. Man, at that time, with his day-to-day survival, he couldn’t even wrap his brain around the idea of the future. Let alone anything being perfect.

He hadn’t allowed himself to think of her. Not in years. What would have been the point? Now, he couldn’t wait to see Jessie, to note the changes time had made. Okay, she probably didn’t still wear her hair in those long braids, but he doubted her sweet smile had altered.

After buying her Coke, Cole rounded the corner and stopped. His skin grew hot. The bold woman with her back to him, reading one of the Just Between Us promo posters, was the kind that should be appreciated. Slowly.

He could spend a lot of time admiring this woman’s butt, so nicely packaged in the short black skirt she wore. Or that sexy stretch of skin between where her skirt ended and her boots began.

Did women know just how damn inviting that length of leg was? And those boots…feminine enough to show off an uninhibited sex appeal, but worn with an attitude that said she’d kick the backside of any man stupid enough to act like a jerk.

His kind of woman. A million carnal fantasies flashed in his mind.

He swallowed, feeling good. This was the first time in a long time he’d responded so physically to someone. But who was she?

The chill of the cold aluminum can finally jerked him back to reality. He needed to find Jessie. Cole looked down the hallway to see if maybe she’d wandered off. She was always curious. It was a trait that often got her into trouble. And had once saved his skin.

Then the woman turned and he forgot the cold.

Cole had been right. He’d never fail to recognize Jessie’s smile. It was still the same, but everything else had changed. She’d grown a little taller, and those shapely legs of hers invited serious appreciation. Her breasts, round and full, drew a man’s eyes. And that mouth, sensual and carnal, promised a lot of wicked things. The woman in front of him could never be called sweet.

Her brown eyes tipped up in the corners with her widening smile. She knew. She knew she’d surprised him, and what’s more, he knew she liked it.

“Hello, Cole. It’s been a while.”

“Little Jessie Huell,” he said, his voice filled with wonder.

She was beautiful. Her lips twisted and she raised an eyebrow. “Not so little anymore.”

As if he needed to be reminded. For some reason, he thought that if he called her little, he might see her as that. Idiot. Was it really Jessie Huell’s mouth he’d just imagined on his own?

She walked toward him slowly. Every step reminding him how long it was since he’d been attracted to someone. A year and a half. A year and a half since his wife had left.

“I bought you a Coke.” The gesture seemed lame now. Men didn’t bring this woman soft drinks. They brought her jewelry.

A soft smile touched her lips. “Like when we studied Latin?”

He nodded as the scent of her ambushed him. She smelled like sunshine, and he was transported back to a time when his whole life had stretched golden before him. A time when the mistakes you made were on geometry tests and missed free throws, not with your life.

“De oppresso liber,” she murmured, as her fingers wrapped around the can.

The phrase meant “Free from having been oppressed.” Once, he’d been leaving the garage for their Latin study session. He’d kept her waiting for over forty minutes. She’d gasped when he stretched out in the booth across from her, sporting the beginnings of a black eye. He hadn’t gotten out of his father’s way fast enough that time.

She hadn’t said a thing. Simply wrote the phrase on his notebook. Then below that, she’d written Someday in English. Someday. She didn’t know it, but he’d held on to that bit of encouragement with everything he had. Sometimes it was all he had.

Together, they’d sipped their Cokes in silence. The sun had set, and the crickets started to chirp. With his eye nearly swollen shut, he hadn’t needed another thing but Jessie’s quiet understanding.

That memory told him how dangerous his attraction for her would be. Because he couldn’t need anything. Too many needed him already. A pair of little girls depended on him to make the right decisions.

He dropped his hand from the soda, took a step away from the teasing scent that beckoned to him, and closed his mind to the past. He could do without having his emotions stripped bare right now.

Jessie popped the top of the can and took a sip. “I’ve switched to diet, but every now and then I miss the taste of Coke with sugar. Of course, you probably hear this kind of talk from all the women in the office and your wife.”

“I’m not married.”

She looked up at him sharply.

It was the first time Jessie’s smile slipped.