News Blues (19 page)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

FROM:
“David Johns”

TO:
“Madeline Madison”

SUBJECT:
Reardon Oil

Hi Baby Doll,

Guess what? Brock and I are getting married! Isn’t that sooo wonderful? Last night, he decided to leap out of that proverbial
closet in a single bound—like Superman, only in Armani instead of that tacky spandex outfit! His dad, Senator Gorman, is absolutely
pissed, of course, which makes the whole process even more delicious. Yes, I know, I’ve only known him a couple of weeks,
but Maddy darling, when it’s love, it’s love!!!!

Oh, I asked Brock about that Reardon Oil company and while he said he never heard of such a business, he immediately recognized
the guy in your photo. Evidently the fatso’s name is Ronald “Rocky” Rodriguez and he’s president of the Association for California
Car Dealers. He and Brock’s dad evidently go way back. UCSD frat buddies or some shit like that. Rocky owns Pacific Coast
Cars in San Diego. You remember those cheesy ads you always see on News 9, don’t you? “If I can’t beat their price I’ll drown
myself in the Pacific!” That’s him. I totally didn’t recognize him without that goofy llama he always has with him on the
TV ads.

Anyway, on to more important topics. I found the most fabulous Vera Wang and put down a deposit. I’m going to be a June bride—isn’t
that so wonderfully clichéd? Oh, and if you can make it up to San Fran, I’d love for you to be a bridesmaid.

Love and Kisses,

David

I was still pretty exhausted. Yesterday my father and I spent the whole day trying to find a teen rehab facility that would
take Lulu. It seemed every single place was booked solid. (Which, I thought, didn’t bode well for the future of San Diego’s
youth.) In the late afternoon, we finally found a small private hospital with an extra bed. It took some major convincing,
dragging her against her will, but we finally got her checked in.

At least work was going well. Getting an e-mail from David revealing the identity of the guy in the Reardon Oil photo was
a major coup. (Though I wasn’t convinced he and Brock should get married so soon . . . ) Now it made perfect sense why the
car with dealer plates had been there to pick up the drugs. Evidently Mr. Rocky Rodriguez had a little side business going
on. Now I just needed to prove it.

“You’re back!”

I looked up to see Jamie enter my cubicle, an overjoyed expression on his way too handsome face. All work matters fled my
mind and my heart panged its appreciation of seeing him again. One day off and I’d missed him terribly.

Things had changed between us since our near death escape. It was like we had this deep connection now.

Something beyond sex. Beyond words. Beyond a boyfriend/girlfriend thing. Unsaid and unrefined, but definitely there. “Hi,
Jamie, ” I said with a small smile. Did he feel it, too? The tension in the cubicle? He sat down in David’s seat.

“How are you doing?” he asked, studying me with those heartbreaking eyes of his. “When you weren’t here yesterday, I worried
that . . .”

“I’m fine, ” I reassured him. “I just had to deal with a family thing.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, his expression illuminating his concern. I suddenly realized that I did want to
talk about it. I wanted to share my grief and worry with him. Let go of the heavy burden I’d been carrying around.

I looked around. News 9 Cubicle Land, however, was not the best place to off-load.

He caught my glance. “Let’s go to Starbucks, ” he said.

I nodded, relieved. It was as if he could read my mind.

A few minutes later we sat down in the comfortable purple velvet chairs to sip our coffees and I told him the whole sordid
Lulu tale. He listened with rapt attention and, when I’d finished, he placed a hand on my knee and squeezed. I knew it was
meant to be a comforting gesture, but it sparked something else inside. Something I was trying very hard to ignore.

“I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through all that, ” he said, removing his hand. “You’ve had quite a week, huh?”

I nodded, feeling my throat constrict. I willed myself not to cry.

“And what I did to you probably didn’t help much, ” he said with a sigh, staring down at his coffee. “I feel terrible.”

I shook my head. I didn’t share my story with him to gain his pity. “Listen, Jamie. There’s no need to apologize, ” I insisted.
“You said what needed to be said. You gave me my much needed reality check. You have a fiancée. Period. End of story. It’s
better that you laid it on the line before . . .” I trailed off. I’d begun to stupidly say before I fell too deeply in love
with him. But I couldn’t say that. I’d sound like a total loser.

“What I said in Calla Verda—in that motel room—I said out of fear, ” Jamie said slowly. “You see, I thought I had my life
all figured out. Then you came along and turned me completely upside down. What I had with you—what we shared—started becoming
more important to me than my relationship with my fiancée. I started looking forward to talking to you more than her. And
that scared the hell out of me, to tell you the honest truth.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I’ve always considered myself
a decent guy. If I make a commitment, I follow through. And yet, suddenly I was having all these doubts. Like, what if Jen
and I really had grown apart and I had been in denial all this time? Would marrying her make everything okay? Would we reconnect
and fall in love all over again? Or would it be a huge, huge mistake that was going to make me miserable for years to come?”

I stared at him, my head spinning, not knowing what to say. Was he doing another reversal on me?

“None of this has anything to do with you, exactly, ” he continued. “Only that I started really caring about you and thinking
about you all the time and wanting to be with you. But at the same time, I realized how completely unfair I was being to you—forcing
you into the role of the other woman because I couldn’t resist having you in my life. I’m not a jerk, Maddy. I’m really not.
And so I realized I had to do something.”

He paused for breath and I wondered if I should say something. But he didn’t look finished, so I remained silent, contemplating
what he’d just revealed. It made sense, really, and explained a lot of his mixed messages. But the question was, what would
it all mean for us in the end?

He continued. “So I did the cowardly thing—I pushed you away. Tried to make you hate me. I guess I figured in the end that
would make it easier for both of us. You’d think I was a jerk who didn’t deserve your love and I’d never be able to go back
to you, even if I was tempted. I’d marry Jen like I’d committed to and things would slowly get better between us as memories
of you faded away.”

He cleared his throat. “But at the same time, I couldn’t bear the idea of you hating me. And I don’t want to hurt or disappoint
you, either. Especially since I have real feelings for you. Strong ones. And I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do
about that.”

I held my breath, nervous butterflies flapping through my stomach as I tried to figure out what the hell he was trying to
say.

“I went up to LA and met with Jen yesterday evening, ” he blurted out at last, staring into his coffee cup, not ready to look
me in the eyes quite yet. “And I told her I couldn’t marry her.”

I stared at him, unable to believe my ears. He’d called off the wedding? He was no longer engaged? He was a free man?

“I told her that I felt we’d been drifting apart for a long time. I no longer felt a hundred percent into the relationship
and I didn’t think it was right to go through with it when I was having so many doubts. It wasn’t fair to me and it wasn’t
fair to her either.”

I nodded slowly. “How’d she take it?”

“Really well, actually, ” Jamie admitted. “She told me she wasn’t shocked I felt this way and that she’d felt the growing
distance between us as well. In fact, I think in a lot of ways she was relieved, to tell you the truth. This way she gets
to stay in LA and not give up her career and her friends. Which I totally understand and support, you know? She told me she
loved me, but realizes that we are two very different people, destined to live two very different lives.” He stared down at
his hands. “I can’t say it wasn’t a little weird to have her be so accepting about it, but in the end, I know it’s best.”

“Did . . . did you tell her about me?” I asked.

“Yes. It was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but I figured it was better to be honest, ” he said. “She was
bound to find out sooner or later anyway, and I’d rather she hear it from me. She told me she knew I had a crush on you from
that first night at dinner. Something about the way I looked at you.” He shrugged. “As usual, you women are a lot more perceptive
than us dumb men.”

“I don’t know what to say, ” I said truthfully. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. Don’t think this puts any pressure on you, ” Jamie added. “In the end, this is something I had to
do for myself and had nothing to do with my feelings for you. Well, in a way it did, but it goes much deeper than that. So
you shouldn’t feel guilty or anything. You were just a catalyst for something I should have done a long time ago.”

Okay, I was confused. Was he interested in dating me now that he was free? Or did he need time on his own for a while to figure
things out? “I understand, ” I replied at last, even though of course I didn’t.

He chuckled. “Do you? I’m glad to hear that. I’m not sure I understand it all myself.” He rose from his Star-bucks chair.
“Do you mind if we swing by my apartment on the way back?” he asked abruptly, his voice sounding almost nervous. “Jen had
been dog-sitting for me in LA. Once we had the wedding conversation she sent the pooch back with me. I want to make sure he’s
adjusting to his new surroundings.”

I hesitated. Go to his house and check on his dog? Was this some kind of lame pretense to hook up? And would I mind if it
was? After all, he was suddenly a free man. And he’d definitely admitted he had strong feelings for me. Maybe it was time
to see where this potential relationship could go—for the first time without feeling guilty about it all.

Then again, what if he suddenly pulled another reversal on me? Loved me and left me? I had no desire, after all, to play rebound
girl. It could only lead to more hurt and I’d already had more than enough of that to last a lifetime.

I glanced up at him and he smiled shyly at me, his gaze hesitant but hopeful, and it made my heart melt as I saw the love
in his eyes. Whether he would admit it or not, he had broken up with the girl he was supposed to marry and a lot of it had
to do with me. He’d taken the first step toward a new life path and he clearly wanted me along for the ride.

Really, how could I say no?

“Oh, a dog?” I forced myself to coo. “I’d love to see him.”

We arrived at Jamie’s apartment a few minutes later. It was a cute courtyard building with a pool in the center, à la Melrose
Place. He unlocked the door and we stepped inside. He hadn’t been lying about the dog. A bundle of brown fur attacked me with
excited yelps the second we walked through the door.

“This is Bowser, ” he said, kneeling down to play wrestle with the pooch. “Bowser, this is Maddy.”

“Hi, Bowser, ” I greeted, crouching down to pet the dog. He responded by licking my face with his sloppy pink tongue. He was
some kind of terrier mix and extremely cute.

Jamie rose. “So do you, uh, want a tour?”

I took a deep breath, reminding myself this was no mere dog visit. The sexual tension in the room was so thick you could cut
it with a knife. I sucked in a breath. “Sure, ” I said, squaring my shoulders. Too late to back out now. Wait—did I put on
good underwear this morning? I so had not planned this. I tried to nonchalantly lower the hem of my skirt to catch a glimpse.

“This is the—are you okay?” Jamie asked, catching my skirt-lowering maneuver. My face flamed in embarrassment.

“Oh, yes. Fine, thank you.” I stammered. I quickly pulled my skirt back up. “Just, uh . . .” Checking to make sure my panties
were appropriate for sex? Probably not something I needed to admit at that moment. “. . . had an itch.”

Blue cotton. Not terribly sexy, but not ripped at least. Not huge like Bridget Jones’s had been, either. Still, if only I’d
had some clue today would be Sex Day, I would have grabbed one of those barely worn thongs I’d been saving for just such an
occasion.

“Well, as I was saying, this is the kitchen . . .” I followed him into a rather large farmhouse-style kitchen with a center
chef island, lots of counter space and a small table with a cheery red checked tablecloth in one corner. “I love to cook,
” he said, running a hand over the island. “Sometime I’ll make you something, if you’d like.”

“That’d be nice. I’d like that, ” I said, feeling awkward and shy all of a sudden. Wanton sex goddess I was not. And besides,
what if I’d completely misread the situation? What if all that had been on his mind was dog walking and today had not been
Sex Day after all?