Friends--And Then Some (9 page)

“Right,” he agreed. “Just because.” Standing up, Jake wiped the granules of sand from his clothes. “I think I should take you home.”

“You probably should.” But Lily’s tone lacked enthusiasm. The day had been charmed, a gift she had never expected to receive. “Gram will wonder about us.”

“We might cool her wrath if we bring a peace offering,” Jake suggested.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Chinese food.”

“But Jake …”

“Gram loves it.”

“I know, but—”

“No buts.”

They took the cable car back to where Jake had parked his taxi. Lily tried to talk to him twice on the way through Chinatown. Jake knew his way around, popping in and out of shops greeting friends and exchanging pleasantries along the way, and all the while, ignoring Lily.

“I didn’t know you spoke Chinese,” Lily commented, hurrying after him.

“Only a little.” He didn’t mention that half of everything he’d said had been an explanation about Lily.

“Not from what I heard.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he joked, loading her arms with the brown paper sacks that contained their meal.

Again on the way home, Lily tried to talk to Jake, but he sang at the top of his lungs, infecting her with his good mood. Soon Lily’s sweet voice joined his own. At a stoplight, their smiling eyes met briefly and the song died on his lips. Without thinking, Jake leaned over and touched his mouth to hers. His hand brushed the hair from her temple and lingered in the thick dark strands.

A blaring horn behind him rudely alerted Jake to the fact that the light had changed. Forcing himself to sing again, Jake stepped on the accelerator and sped ahead.

Lily had a more difficult time recovering from the casual kiss. Had that really just happened? It somehow felt so extraordinarily right to have Jake claim her lips as if he’d been doing it for a lifetime. His light touch left her longing for more.

When Jake glanced at her curiously out of the corner of his eye, she forced her voice to join his, but it wasn’t the same and both of them knew it.

Jake eased to a stop in front of the house. Gram was standing on the front porch, her hands riding her round hips as she paced the small area. “It’s about time you got home, girl. Rick called. He’s on his way over.”

The sensation of dread went all the way through Jake. He’d known from the minute they entered Chinatown that Lily had been trying to talk to him. But in his stupidity, Jake had feared that she was going to mention things he didn’t want to discuss—mainly that something rare and special was happening between them. Such talk was best delayed and, if possible, ignored entirely.

“Rick’s coming?” he questioned, turning to Lily and trying to disguise the raging battle that was going on inside him. Rick was better for Lily than he’d ever be. Rick could give her the world. But Jake didn’t like it. Not one bit. There was something very wrong about spending the day with Lily and then watching her march off with Rick that evening. His gut instinct told him Rick wasn’t the right man for Lily, but he couldn’t say anything without making a fool of himself. He’d been doing enough of that lately as it was.

“I tried to tell you earlier,” she mumbled, feeling guilty. “I … we … Rick and I, that is, we’re going to dinner …”

“No problem,” Jake said, feigning a shrug of indifference. “Gram and I will have a good time without you.” He walked ahead of Lily and took the older woman by the hand. “I guess you’re stuck with me tonight.”

“I’d consider it a privilege,” Gram said with a smile.

Jake responded with one of his own. He led the way into the house, carrying the sacks of spicy Chinese food to the kitchen. If Lily wore the white dress he bought her, he didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t. Not after all they’d shared that day. Deep down, Jake knew she wouldn’t do that to him.

Lily walked to her room with all the enthusiasm of someone going to the dentist for a root canal. She felt terrible. Everything had been so perfect today with Jake. When they’d stopped at the red light and Jake had kissed her, Lily had died a little. The kiss had felt so right—as though they were meant to be together forever. Only they weren’t.

Taking her new dress from its box, Lily hung it in her closet. She wouldn’t wear it
for anyone but Jake. It was the most beautiful article of clothing she’d ever owned and she’d treasure it for the rest of her life.

After checking the contents of her meager closet, Lily chose a midi-length straight black skirt and matching top. She dressed hurriedly, then took a moment to freshen her makeup and run a brush through her tangled hair. She’d just finished when the doorbell chimed. A glance at her watch confirmed that he was right on time.

Gram was introducing herself to Rick when Lily appeared.

“Lily.” Rick looked at her appreciatively and stepped toward her. Claiming both hands, he kissed her lightly on the cheek.

Lily had to resist wiping his touch from her face. She hadn’t found it offensive, only wrong. It wasn’t Jake who was kissing her and it felt unnatural. “Hello, Rick.”

Automatically, her gaze shifted to Jake, who had just emerged from the kitchen.

Rick’s eyes followed hers. “Glad to see you’re okay after that fall, Carson.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Jake’s reply was as abrupt as a shot.

“I’ll be home early,” Lily told Gram, hoping to avoid a confrontation between the two men.

Rick’s hand curved around the back of Lily’s neck. “But not too early.”

At the front door she turned to Jake. “Thank you for today.”

He pretended not to hear her and strode back into the kitchen. He didn’t like her going out with Rick, but he hadn’t said a word.

“Jake doesn’t mind you dating me, does he?” Rick asked when they reached his car. He drove a Mercedes convertible. Lily had often dreamed of riding in one with the top down and the wind whipping through her thick hair. Now that she was standing in front of one, she couldn’t seem to muster the appropriate level of enthusiasm.

“No, he doesn’t mind,” she told Rick.

“I don’t want to horn in on you two if you’ve got something going. But from what Jake said …”

“There’s nothing between us,” Lily said, fighting the heavy sadness that permeated her voice. “We’re only friends.”
And then some
, she added silently. But the
some
hadn’t been defined.

“Did I tell you where we were going?” Rick asked next, politely opening the car
door for her.

“No.”

“Canlis.”

Her returning smile was weak. “Thanks. Sounds fantastic.”

They arrived at the popular restaurant a half hour later. From everything she’d read, Lily knew Canlis was highly rated and extremely expensive. For the first time she’d have the opportunity to order almond-saffron soup. Funny, now that the time had arrived, she’d have given almost anything to sit at the kitchen table across from Gram and Jake and struggle with the chopsticks Jake insisted they use to eat pork-fried rice.

“You have heard much about this place?” Rick asked.

“Oh, yes. From what I understand, the food’s wonderful.”

“Only the best for you, Lily. Only the best.”

* * *

Rick took Lily out for two evenings straight. On Sunday night, following their Saturday dinner at Canlis, he took her to the Cliff House and ordered champagne at three hundred dollars a bottle. After years of scrimping by with Gram for the bare necessities, Lily discovered her sense of priorities was offended by seeing good money wasted on something as frivolous as overpriced champagne.

When she mentioned it to Gram later, her grandmother simply shook her head. “Did it taste better than the cheap stuff?”

“That’s the problem,” Lily admitted, and sighed dejectedly. “I don’t know. I’ve had champagne that was pretty good at a fraction of the cost.”

“Rick must want to impress you.”

Lily’s gaze fell to her lap. “I think he does.” Rick had wined and dined her and claimed he found her utterly refreshing. He called her his “sunbeam” and was kind and patient. Lily should have been in ecstasy to have someone like Rick interested in her. She liked him, enjoyed his company, and looked forward to seeing him again. But something basic was missing in their relationship—something that Lily couldn’t quite put her finger on.

On Monday evening, Jake was waiting outside the Wheaton for her as usual. A warm smile lit up Lily’s dark eyes as she spotted him from the lobby, standing outside his taxi.

“Hello, Jake,” she said, walking toward him, her heart pounding.

“Lily.” He uncrossed his long legs and slowly straightened. “How’d it go tonight?”

“Good.” About as good as it ever got, playing the same songs night after night.

“Meet any more rich Texans?” He forced the joke when the last thing he felt was cheerful.

“Not tonight.”

“How did everything go with Rick?” Jake had thought of little else over the past two days. It felt good to be responsible for giving Lily what she wanted most. And wretched because it went against his instincts. But Rick was a decent sort. He’d be good to Lily.

“Rick’s very nice.”

“I knew you’d like him.”

“I do.”
But not nearly as much as I like you
, she added silently.

“Where’d he take you? Canlis? Rick always did have excellent taste.” Most especially in women, Jake thought to himself. His friend wasn’t going to let Lily slip away. She was a priceless gem, rare and exquisite, and it hadn’t taken Rick long to covet her. Jake couldn’t regret having introduced them; he’d planned it. But he hadn’t expected that letting Lily go would be so difficult.

“How’d the writing go today?”

“Pretty good. I’ve got a story for you to read when you have the time.” He reached inside the cab for a manila envelope and handed it to her.

Pleased, Lily hugged it to her breast. “Is there anything special you want me to look for?”

“The usual.”

“Have you heard anything back on that one you sent to
The New Yorker
?”

Jake snickered and shook his head. “Lily, I only sent it there to please you. Trust me,
The New Yorker
isn’t going to be interested in a story from me.”

“Don’t be such a defeatist. Who can say? That story was your best. I like it.”

The corner of his mouth edged up in a self-mocking grimace. “You like all my stories.”

“You’re good, Jake. I just wish …”

“What?” He opened the passenger side for her and walked around the front of the vehicle.

“I think you ought to think about novels,” Lily told him once he was seated beside her.

“Maybe someday,” he grumbled.

The evening traffic was lighter than usual as Jake drove the normal route to Gram’s in the Sunset District. They didn’t talk much after Lily suggested Jake consider writing novels. Ideas buzzed through his mind. Maybe he ought to think about it. Almost always the characters in his stories were strong enough to carry a book-length story. Naturally it would call for more plot development, and that could be a problem, but one he could work at solving. To his surprise, he found the idea appealing.

Lily studied the man sitting on the seat beside her. His gaze was centered on the street, his dark green eyes narrowed in concentration. Sensing Lily’s gaze, Jake turned toward her.

“Are you coming in tonight?”

Mentally Jake weighed the pros and cons. He liked talking over his day with Lily and Gram. They offered him an outlet for the everyday frustrations of life. Yet coming around every night the way he used to could mean problems. The day they’d gone shopping proved that. But did he really need to worry with Gram around?

“If you don’t mind?”

Lily laughed, surprised that he’d even suggest such a thing. “Of course I don’t mind. You’re always welcome. You know that.”

He smiled then until the emerald light sparkled in his eyes and Lily discovered she couldn’t look away.

“Yes, I suppose I do,” he said finally.

By the time Jake returned it was after eleven. Lily sat in the living room with Gram. She’d read over Jake’s short story and made several markings on the manuscript.
Every time she read something of Jake’s she was stirred by the powerful emotion in his stories. This one was particularly heart wrenching. The story involved a grumpy old man who lived alone. He had no women or children in his life, but he had a soft spot in his heart for animals. Late one night, the crotchety old man found a lost dog that had been frightened and had nearly drowned in a bad storm. He brought the dog, a miniature French poodle, into his home and fed it some leftovers. As he worked at drying off the dog, he complained gruffly that Miss Fifi, as he named her, deserved to be left out in the storm. The little dog ignored the surly voice and looked up at him adoringly with dark eyes. She was so grateful to have been rescued that she followed the old man around the house. Soon she was sleeping on the end of his bed and working her way into his crusty heart. People who saw the man with the fancy poodle were amused by the sight of them. The old man felt torn. Miss Fifi was a damn nuisance and he definitely didn’t like drawing attention to himself. Yet every day he grew more attached to the dog. At the end of the story he found her a good home and, without a second thought, went about his life as before.

Lily was sitting on the sofa with her feet tucked under her when Jake knocked once before letting himself inside.

His gaze fell to the manila envelope. “Did you read it?”

“Yes.”

Gram was swaying in her rocker, watching the news. She acknowledged Jake and returned her attention to the television set.

“Well?” He shouldn’t have let her read it. Lily was frowning. The story wasn’t one of his best. He should have ditched it. He sat on the end of the coffee table and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“You’re getting better and better,” she hedged. “The best thing about your writing, Jake, is that you’re a natural storyteller.”

“But?” He could tell she was leading up to something unpleasant by the way her eyes avoided his.

“But … the ending’s wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“The little dog loved that lonely old man.”