Catch a Mate (24 page)

“But you found someone with a backbone of steel,” her mom blithely continued on, “and you decided to trust him, despite everything that's happened in your own life. Despite the fact that things could go bad. Well, I want to do that, too. I've never seen you so…happy.”

Happy? Ha. If she were any
happier,
she'd drive off a cliff.

“If you can live without fear, after everything you've witnessed, I should be able to, as well.”

“I'm glad for you.”
But I'm not living without fear,
she almost admitted. Not even close. In fact, she'd never been more afraid in her life. She didn't say it; she couldn't destroy her mom's new outlook.

“There's more.” Her mom drew in a long breath, as if bracing herself. She'd probably planned the speech all morning. “When you, Brent and Brittany said I had multiple personalities, well, it hurt. But it also helped me see myself through your eyes. I don't want to be the person who makes everyone around her miserable. I want a life and I want a man.”

“Mom—”

“I'm not finished. I'm tired of being alone. Maybe if I get my emotions under control, someone will stick around and love me for who I am.” By the time she finished, she was crying. “I'm sorry. The medicine hasn't kicked in yet.”

“Oh, Mom.”

“No, no. Don't feel sorry for me.”

“I don't. I'm just so proud of you.”

There was a heavy pause. “Really?” Evelyn asked hopefully.

“Really.”

Another pause. Then, of all things, a laugh. “I didn't call to cry or even to talk about myself. I called because last night after you and your—Marcus left, Brent and Brittany spoke to me about you and your dad.”

Okay. Seriously. What had come over her mom? She
never
talked about Jillian's father. “What about him?” she asked stiffly.

“I, well, I was wrong to poison you against him. Those are Brent's words, not mine. I just wanted someone to hate him as much as I did, so that my own feelings of hatred could be justified. That came courtesy of Brittany. But this next part, it's all me so listen closely.” She cleared her throat. “I knew what I was doing was wrong, every time I told you what a horrible person he was or asked you to stay with me instead of going to see him. Even while I was doing it, I knew I shouldn't—but I couldn't seem to stop. I'm…sorry.”

Now Jillian did swerve. A car honked at her and she quickly moved back into her lane. “Really, who
are
you? I don't understand why you're saying these things.”

“I want to finally let the past go. Maybe you should consider that, too. Bitterness hasn't worked for either of us. Maybe forgiveness will. Now, I have to go. My meds should kick in fully in a few weeks and I want to have my personal ad ready.”
Click.

Jillian stared at the phone in shock—until another person honked at her and she realized she was edging into the wrong lane again. She hurriedly jerked the car to its proper place.

Her mom wanted her to let go of the past, maybe talk to her dad. Brent wanted her to forgive Marcus. Dear Lord. What was the world coming to?

“J
ILLIAN.”

“Marcus.”

Marcus walked through CAM's front hallway, his body on alert. He hadn't expected her to be here. He'd expected her to call in sick or even to quit. But here she was, seated at her cube, looking beautiful, carefree. She was dressed in black, her curls trapped in a ponytail. She didn't glance at him as he passed her, but kept her eyes on her computer screen.

Seeing her—and knowing what she looked like naked—was like a punch in the gut. His blood instantly heated. His muscles—all of them—clenched and hardened. He kept walking, though, and strode into his office, shutting the door behind him. He pulled the blinds closed and tangled a hand in his hair. Shit. He wanted her, so badly. And if things had been different, he could have called her into his office and they could have spent some quality time getting naked. Afterward he would have held her and they would have talked and laughed again.

Sighing, he flipped on the light and moved to his desk, where he plopped down. “Shit,” he muttered.

He really did want to call Jillian in here. He wanted to talk to her about last night. About a future. But she would turn him down; he knew she would. And not because she had stopped wanting him. She hadn't. At least, he hoped not. She simply wasn't ready for what he wanted to give.

He'd lain awake last night, thinking about her, and he suspected that she was running scared. He suspected this distance between them had nothing to do with Georgia and everything to do with her own fears of commitment. They'd been getting close. They'd formed a bond. That had to have spooked her. Hell, it had spooked him and—what the hell was that hideous smell?

His nose wrinkled and twitched. He sniffed left, sniffed right. Bloody hell, where was it coming from? He sniffed his armpits. Nope. The office had smelled fine when he'd first walked in, but now…What. The. Hell?

He stood, walked to the window. Opened it. Breathed. His stomach rolled. Holy mother of Christ, it was everywhere. It was like he'd stepped into a horse's ass while holding a bowl of maggots. He gagged. His eyes even teared.

He heard murmuring in the hallway. As fast as his feet could carry him, he raced to the door and jerked it open. He stepped out. Unfortunately, fresh, clean air did not envelop him.

“What's that smell?” Jake asked as he padded down the hallway. “I could smell it in the parking lot.” He fanned his nose.

The rotten stench of hell was wafting from his office, even through the door. “I have no bloody idea.”

“Problem?” Jillian stood and sidled around to the side of her cube. She rested her hip against the wall, the picture of serenity.

Joe and Selene entered the building and paused. They looked at each other, then raced past Marcus, holding their noses and peering at him as if he needed a shower as they passed. For a split second, as they crossed his line of vision, he lost sight of Jillian. Then he saw her again, and there was a wicked gleam in her eyes, quickly masked.

Somehow, she had done this. She had stunk up his office.

“I want to vomit,” Jake said. He looked from Marcus to Jillian, from Jillian to Marcus. In a quiet voice meant only for Marcus, he added, “I guess you didn't take my advice, after all. You and the little woman still look like you want to kill each other.”

“Oh, I took your advice,” Marcus said loudly, his voice carrying. “It just blew up in my face. Jillian, may I speak with you for a moment?”

“I'm typing my notes on Saturday's assignment. Could our chat wait?”

“No,” he ground out.

She shrugged, the action nonchalant. “Shall we talk in your office, then?”

He
should
make her enter that hellish domain, but he wouldn't be able to stand it. He'd rather cut off his nose. More than the smell, however, he remembered the last time he'd had her inside his office. They'd kissed. Touched. Done exquisite things. The memory already haunted him. “Meet me in the conference room,” he said. “Five minutes.”

Just then, Danielle and Amelia entered the building. Both were frowning. “Have you seen Georgia?” Amelia asked. Her nose twitched and she waved her hand in front of her face. “What's that awful smell?”

“I haven't been able to get a hold of Georgia,” Danielle said, holding her nose, “and she's not home. She was supposed to pick me up this morning.”

Marcus looked at Jillian, his gaze pulled by a force greater than himself. Her beautiful lips were thinning with displeasure. “Didn't you hear?” she said. “Georgia was fired.”

Amelia gasped. “What? Why?”

“Ask Marcus,” Jillian said, her tone flat, devoid of emotion.

Everyone stopped and stared at Marcus. A few of the men straggled into the hallway, too, and stopped to find out what was going on. Marcus felt his blood begin to boil. He'd planned to call a meeting and gently break the news without giving away any details. If Georgia wanted them to know what had happened, she could tell them.

“She needed some time off,” he said, keeping his voice neutral. “Jillian. Conference room. Now. Your five-minute reprieve is over.” He stalked away before anyone could ask him another question he wasn't yet prepared to answer. He didn't look back to ensure Jillian followed. He knew she would. She wasn't a coward. A human stink bomb, maybe, but not a coward.

He waited for her at the glass doors, holding one open. She rounded the corner, chin high, shoulders squared. After she sailed past him, he let the door close of its own accord. “What did you want to see me about?” she asked sweetly, turning to face him.

He moved toward her and leaned down, getting right in her face. “What did you do to my office?”

She blinked up at him, all innocence. “What makes you think I did anything?”

She didn't deny it, at least. “I have a client coming in today,” he gritted out. “You remember our lap dancer from the club? Well, I get to tell her hubby that his wife is cheating. I can't have that conversation in my office if it smells like a sewer.”

Guilty color flooded her face—guilt and
arousal,
as if she were remembering the after-hours acrobatics on her couch, as well—and she stared down at her tennis shoes.

“We told each other that no matter what happened between us personally, we wouldn't let it affect our work.” Looking at her, being this close to her, was playing havoc with his senses. He could smell her—and it was an addicting, sensual scent that somehow managed to overshadow the stench outside the room.

“That's like telling someone you've fired that it isn't personal, it's just business. Well, guess what.” Her tortured gaze lifted, her lashes so long they cast shadows over her cheeks. “It
is
personal to the one getting fired.”

“Georgia brought it on herself, Jillian. I think she even understood. You're the only one who can't seem to get past it. Why is that?” He didn't give her time to respond. “I think you're just looking for a reason, any reason, to keep me out of your bed.”

Her eyes flashed with such intense heat, he was almost burned. Almost scorched and blistered. He was very close to wrapping his hands around her neck. He'd choke her or kiss her—he wasn't sure which. Maybe both.

“Just so you know,” he said tightly, “you'll watch the meeting with Mr. Parker from my computer. In my office.” He paused, hoping she'd say something. When she didn't, he added, “At least have the decency to tell me what it was I was smelling.”

A moment passed, then, “Deer urine,” she said on a sigh.

His mouth floundered open and closed. “You have got to be kidding me. You put deer urine in my office?”

“That's right.” Her eyes narrowed. “What you did to Georgia really stinks, and I wanted you to smell how bad.” There was an unspoken
what you did to me really stinks, too,
in her words.

A muscle ticked below his eye. “Do you want me to fire you, is that it? Well, guess what, Dimples. I won't fire you and let you ignore what's between us. If you want to be rid of me, you'll have to grow the balls to quit.”

A knock sounded at the door, and they both turned to glare at the intruder. Selene peeked inside. She was frowning. “Mr. Parker is here,” she said. “I've left him in the hall. Your office smells like burnt hair wrapped in poo.”

“I'll be there in a minute.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, suddenly weary. “Just…keep him occupied.”

She nodded, gave Jillian a
what's going on look,
and moved off.

“You know, Jillian,” he said, drawing out the words. “You're embarrassed, probably confused by what you're feeling and definitely angry. But I'm willing to wait for you, however long you need.”

She raised her chin, appearing confused, hopeful and scared all at once. “I don't understand.”

“I was married, you know that, and it failed. I've been running from commitment ever since. You might not have been married, but you've been running, too. One day you're going to stop running and fall. And I'm going to be there to catch you.”

Her lips parted and he leaned deeper into her personal space. Their breath blended, their mouths almost touched. “I'm willing to bet that relationships
can
work. If you give yourself to the right person.” He left without another word, forcing her to follow.

 

I'm willing to bet that relationships can work. If you give yourself to the right person.

She tried to block those dangerous words as she watched the meeting with Mr. Parker from Marcus's computer. After a while, blocking them became easy. All she could think about was death. The rank smell of Marcus's office was more than she could bear. She'd had no idea painting deer urine on his lightbulb would cause this kind of stench. Her mom had done it to her dad and her neighbor and laughed about it, but Jillian could not have imagined
this.

At some point in the meeting—the minutes were blurred together—she stopped trying to pretend it didn't bother her and stood. She walked to the open window and sucked in the cool air. That helped, but only slightly.

All the while, she peered at the computer, watching as Marcus broke the bad news to Mr. Parker in the conference room. When Marcus showed him the video of his wife, sitting on another man's lap, kissing him, the man dissolved into quiet sobs.

Marcus apologized. Jillian wanted so badly to apologize, too, anything to make the man's pain go away, but she could think of nothing. He wasn't a pig, yet his heart had just been broken.

He would never be the same again.

No one was, after infidelity.

Mr. Parker would never trust as easily, never look at women the same way. He'd become paranoid, distrust everything women told him.

For the first time since starting at CAM, Jillian was ashamed. She helped destroy people's lives. Yes, they had a right to know what was going on with their spouse, but was it okay to tempt fate? Would people cheat if they weren't propositioned? Sure, Mr. Parker's wife had cheated without needing bait, but what about the others?

Jillian felt her chin tremble, felt her eyes burn—and it had nothing to do with the smell.

Mr. Parker soon eased to his feet, his legs shaky. He didn't say goodbye, just left with what little dignity he could wrap around himself. When the door closed behind him, Marcus's head sank into his hands. Several minutes passed. Jillian finally left the smelly office and strode into the conference room.

He glanced up at her. “Sometimes the job isn't worth it,” he said softly. “My dad would laugh about his clients. He'd say, ‘Be the cheater, son, not the cheated on.' I think I hate him right now.”

Jillian sighed, aching for the little boy who had heard such poison. “The urine is on the lightbulb,” she admitted. No more war, she decided then. No more anger. How petty that seemed now. Besides, Marcus had been right. She'd attacked him because she still wanted him and was afraid of her feelings.

I'm willing to wait for you,
he'd said.
However long you need.

It's the person you give yourself to that matters.

He'd just broken the news to Mr. Parker with a gentleness and tenderness that had surprised her. Deepened her feelings for him. She sighed again. Without a doubt, she knew it was time to find another job. Maybe as bait, maybe not. But she could not work with Marcus
and
have a relationship with him. She also could not work for Marcus and
not
have a relationship with him.

What should she do? A part of her wanted to fall and let him try and catch her. The fear of hitting the ground, however…No. She couldn't risk it.

“I'm sorry about the lightbulb.”

“No problem,” he said.

With nothing left to say, she turned. “I'm not feeling well, so I'm going home. I'll see you tomorrow.” And then she ran as fast as she could from the building. Trying to escape him. Trying to escape herself.