Next to You (18 page)

I
t was
early afternoon when Phlox pulled into the gravel driveway of Twelve Oaks. There was no sign of Jared’s pickup. Maybe he had gone to Jake’s, after all. The thought eased her mind somewhat, even if it didn’t ease her disappointment at not getting to see him. Jake and Mina would take care of him.

She ran straight to the cottage and knocked on the door as hard as she could. When she got no answer, she retrieved the spare key from the main house and let herself in. The minute she stepped inside, she knew for certain he wasn’t there. Ghostly vacuum stripes criss-crossed the carpet. The sofa cushions had been plumped and the pillows arranged just so against the arms. She walked into the tiny kitchen, tears pricking at the memory of him in that silly apron and bowtie. And then he’d gotten angry when she touched his face.

The kitchen was neat as a pin, too. No dishes sat drying in the rack. She pulled open a drawer. The kitchen towels had been washed and folded. The dishwashing liquid was neatly stashed beneath the sink. Even the motley collection of potato chips and tortilla chips was gone.

Her heart felt like someone was squeezing it, trying to force every drop of blood from its painful depths. So he had just packed up and disappeared? Just like that? No goodbye, no “I’m quitting,” no word whatsoever.

She pulled out her phone and texted him.
I’m WORRIED about you. Where ARE you?
Yes, shouty caps. She didn't really expect him to reply. She had called and texted all last night and the silence had been deafening.

But then her phone pinged.

At home.

At home? What the fuck? Hadn't the cottage been his home?

Jake's home?

My home. In NY.

She stared at the words until another text appeared.
Where are you?

He had a home in New York? Well, why not? Mr. Three Billion Dollars. He could have a home any-fucking-where.
In CT,
she texted back.

Minutes passed and no reply came. She sent another text.
I'm calling you. Please answer.

His phone rang and rang. Voice mail was about to pick up when he finally answered.

"Hi," he said quietly.

Hi? That was all? She closed her eyes, her anger already softening at the sound of his voice. She missed him, wanted to wrap her arms around him, kiss him senseless. She should have been with him yesterday.

"Where is your home in New York?" she asked.

He was quiet for a long moment before answering. "Midtown."

She drew in a sharp breath and held it in her lungs before exhaling. She'd driven all the way up here and all this time he'd been a mere cab ride away?

"Who are you, Jared?"

"What do you mean?" His voice was wary. He knew he was in deep shit. Well at least he had the grace to understand that.

"Why was there a billionaire living in my caretaker's cottage? Can you tell me that?"

"I'd rather not discuss this over the phone."

"Why didn't you tell me?" she pleaded. "God, Jared." Her voice fell to a whisper. "I could have been there for you."

"And would you have had anything to do with me, if I had?"

"Why wouldn't I?”

There was silence on the other end.

"Talk to me, Jared. Please."

"My father tried to kill me, Phlox. Do you get that? My own father didn’t lo—"

Tears rolled down her cheeks. "I love you, Jared."

“He didn't want us there, you know that? He specifically told his attorney to tell me and Jake not to come."

"Would—would you have gone?"

"I don't know. Maybe." There was a long sigh on the other end. "I don't know. It's complicated."

"I'm coming back to New York." She grabbed her purse and headed for the door.

"No. I'll come to you. Stay there."

"Jared. I'll drive down and pick you up."

"I have cars, Phlox."

Of course he does. Billionaire. Cars, plural.

P
hlox ran
her hand under the kitchen faucet, then flicked the water into the pot of cooking oil simmering on the range. The water sizzled and sent a spray of hot oil droplets into the air. A few weeks ago, she would have jumped back in terror to avoid the burning shower. Today, she stood stock still and let the drops rain down on her forearms and hands. She dared the oil to burn her.

Bring it on.

The pain felt good. It distracted her from the other pain she was feeling—Jared’s pain. Why hadn’t he told her about his father? Trusted her? All this time she’d been prattling on about her company’s problems and going to movie premieres—problems that paled in comparison to his. She’d been right about him from the very beginning. His worst scars weren’t the ones on his skin.

She dredged chicken breasts and drumsticks in flour and dropped them into the pot of oil. She wasn’t careful about it either. The backs of her hands were spotted with angry red marks from the spattering oil.

Why do men have to be the strong, silent type?
She dredged and fried, dredged and fried, laying each new batch of crispy golden chicken on a plate of paper towels. She could have been there for him. Supported him. Comforted him. All the things she was dying to do, in addition to worrying about him.

Was he driving too fast right now? Little Aidan’s words came back to her.
“Mom wants us to let her know if he drives too fast.”
Somehow she doubted Mina was worried about the pickup truck. Jared had been like a kid in a candy store when she let him drive her Audi to and from the movies. He probably had a dozen sports cars of his own.

Her worry was shot through with threads of anger though, too. Of course, he knew about market circuit breakers and level three trading halts. He was a fucking tech billionaire. Hell, he’d probably been on CNBC and Fox Business himself. A Maria Bartiromo groupie? He probably knew her personally.

The more she fumed about it, the more she felt as though she’d been played for a fool. It had all been just sex, hadn’t it? Nothing more than that. He’d made her feel sorry for him so she would sleep with him. And pretending to be a caretaker? Genius. He didn’t have to worry about women trying to get to his money if no one knew he had any.

No, ma’am, I’m just the hot and hunky gardener.

By the time she lifted the last pieces of fried chicken from the pot of simmering oil, she was good and angry and picturing what would surely be the considerable pleasure of pelting him with a drumstick when he arrived. She was snapping the cap off a beer when she heard a knock on the back door, then the gentle wheeze of the screen door hinges. She looked up at him.

He looked like hell. Bleary-eyed and unshaven, his clothes so wrinkled it looked like he’d slept in them for days. The edges of her anger began to soften. His father had been executed. Whatever Jared had done over the past few weeks, it was hard to be mad at him right then when he was so clearly a wreck.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His eyes shifted to the range behind her, where the pot of oil continued to hiss and sputter. He rushed over and turned off the burner. “What are you doing?” He pulled her away from the oil.

“Frying chicken.” She nodded at the plate on the island.

“I can see that. But there’s a KFC a few miles away. I can vouch for their food.”

She turned and began pulling plates from the cupboard, another beer from the fridge. He grabbed her arms and stopped her.

“I know you’re mad at me for not telling you who I was. I don’t tell anyone, generally.” He pulled up her hands and frowned at the burn spots on her skin. “You need to get some aloe vera gel on these.”

“You made me feel sorry for you so I’d sleep with you.”

He pulled her hands up to his lips and kissed them. “Phlox, I tried to avoid sleeping with you. I tried to avoid you entirely. I was trying not to get fired by being the ugly troll living on some rich woman’s property. But you wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“So you slept with me just to get me to leave you alone.”

Jared sighed. “Phlox, you were throwing yourself at me, which is an unusual occurrence for me. Women aren’t exactly begging me to have sex with them. I admit, my head was turned by you. There was a beautiful woman chasing me. My ego was flattered.”

He cupped her face in his calloused palms and kissed her. “But it’s way more than that now. For me, at least.”

“Why couldn’t you tell me who you were?” She turned away and began arranging the plates and flatware on the island. She uncapped the second bottle of beer. “I don’t have any of your wine. Sorry. The wine superstore here doesn’t carry it.”

“Our production is too limited for that kind of retailer. How do you know about the winery?”

“I had some in a restaurant recently. It was good.”

She opened the fridge and grabbed a bowl of coleslaw. Jared lifted it from her hands and set it on the island.

“Was this at your boyfriend’s restaurant?” He scooped coleslaw onto the plates.

“He’s not my boyfriend. Just a friend.”

“Phlox, when a man puts his arm around you, he’s not just a friend. You might think so, but he certainly doesn’t.”

“How would you—”

“I saw the two of you together, walking from your office to the restaurant.”

“You were stalking me?”

Jared pulled out a stool and sat down, like he was settling in for the long haul. She supposed they were. They had a lot to talk about.

“I wanted to see you, so I came into the city.”

“So when I called you that night, you weren’t up here?”

“No. I was in New York, drowning my sorrows in whiskey while you were on a date.”

“I only went so I could tell David that I didn’t want to resume things with him. I told him that I had met someone.” She laughed sharply. “He told me who you were but I didn’t believe him. He called you a reclusive billionaire.”

“That about sums it up.”

“And that your nickname is Bruce Wayne.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“So you never answered my question. Why are you pretending to be my caretaker?”

“I wasn’t aware that I was pretending. I thought I was doing a pretty good job with it.”

Phlox glared at him. “You know what I mean. Why couldn’t you ‘fess up after we got involved?”

“I was afraid you’d be angry that I lied. And then you wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me. In my defense though, I wasn’t expecting to fall in love with my boss. Usually, my employers are older and … not so attractive.”

Phlox picked at a chicken breast and pushed coleslaw around her plate with a fork. He was right. She would have been furious at being lied to. She was kind of furious now.

“I knew it would be bad for your company, too,” he added.

She looked up from her plate.

“I mean, not you knowing who I was. But the two of us dating openly.” He took a long draw on his beer. “Every time my business got press coverage, my father would be mentioned. It’s not something people can forget.” He touched his cheek. “I’m a walking advertisement for his crime. If people know we’re together, that’ll get mentioned every time. It won’t be good for your company’s brand.”

“I think our customers are bigger people than that.”

He shook his head. “Experience has taught me otherwise. Plus, it would drag Jake’s family into the spotlight too. That’s why I—”

His voice cracked and Phlox was up and next to him in a heartbeat. She laid her chest against his back and wrapped her arms around him.

“My father isn’t famous on his own,” he continued. “If it weren’t for me, no one would even know he existed. When I sold Accendo, Jake and Mina had just gotten married. Then Emma was born, then Aidan. So I decided to step out of the public eye to keep Jackson Connor out of the public eye. I reinvented myself as a caretaker and disappeared. It was working until I met you.”

Phlox tightened her embrace even as Jared’s shoulders began to shake beneath her.

“I don’t want Emma and Aidan growing up with a murderer for a grandfather.” Jared’s voice cracked again and Phlox felt a tremendous shudder roll down his spine. “I love those kids,” he choked out. “He ruined my life. I won’t have him ruin theirs, too.”

T
he next morning
Jared awoke alone in Phlox’s bed, her yellow and red quilt bunched around him. She was gone but her perfume lingered. He rolled over and buried his face in her pillow, inhaling the flowery sweet scent. His muscles ached a bit from last night but he felt different. Better. Lighter. Phlox knew who he was and he had still gotten to spend the night in her arms.

God, she was tough. Beautiful, but tough. She had forgiven him. He wasn’t used to people handing out forgiveness like it was Halloween candy. No, that wasn’t a fair analogy, he realized. Her absolution had been a lot more valuable than that.

He rolled out of bed and pulled on his jeans and shirt. The smell of coffee was beckoning him downstairs, not to mention the promise of a good morning kiss. Maybe more, even.

Phlox was sitting at the kitchen island in a rumpled nightshirt, frowning at her laptop. She slapped it closed when he approached. He swooped in and kissed her, licking the taste of smoky coffee from her lips.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

She moaned beneath him, and he gathered her soft and pliable body into his. He kissed her senseless, then reached over and flipped the laptop open again.

The screen lit up with the home page of the
New York Post
and a bold-faced, screaming headline:
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST! Billionaire recluse steps out with beauty mogul!
Beneath were side-by-side photos of Jared and Phlox.

Phlox reached for the computer but he spun it away and scrolled down through the article.

“Jared,” she said.

“Fuck. I knew this was going to happen.”

“It’s no big deal.”

“It’s a very big deal.” Her phone was vibrating furiously on the island’s granite top. “The last thing you need is to have me associated with your company. Especially right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m fucking hideous and your company sells beauty!”

“You are not fucking hideous.” She tried to slip her arms around him, but Jared pushed her gently away. “And it’s my company. I can have anyone I want associated with it.”

“My father murdered his wife. How will that play with your customers? I don’t want that on my conscience, Phlox. I can’t do it. I’m sorry.” He grabbed his keys from the table and charged out of the house, leaving her swearing a blue streak behind him.

H
e pulled
into a gas station miles away, bought one of those extra-caffeinated sodas and checked the news coverage on his phone. It was in every newspaper style and business section in New York and San Francisco, plus every online gossip rag.
Beauty and the beast … Just one day after the execution of his father, reclusive billionaire Jared Connor has re-emerged as the boyfriend of Phlox Beauty owner Phlox Miller … wonder if they’ve compared scars … a Mr. Harvey St. John says Mr. Connor worked as a caretaker at his Jackson Hole, Wyoming home … rumor has it that Connor and Miller were introduced by a plastic surgeon … Miller is the business partner of actress Ginger Moon’s daughter, Zelda … a source says Miller was also spotted with former flame David Cook at one of Cook’s new restaurants — is she cheating on Connor or Cook? … the Phlox Beauty CEO has been largely out of the public eye since an accident at her Connecticut home last year … she is virtually unrecognizable after her plastic surgery …

This was exactly what he’d been afraid would happen. He would end up dragging her company down into the mud. He couldn’t do that to her. He cared about her too much. He leaned his head against the steering wheel of the Porsche. And he’d made an ass of himself last night, crying and blubbering like a stupid baby.

It had felt good to do it, though. Cathartic. Phlox had acted as though it was the most natural thing in the world to do, holding him in her arms until he was finished. Then she’d let him carry her upstairs and make love to her for hours. He didn’t deserve such a woman—and she deserved a far better man than him.

I told Jake this would happen.

Jake.

Jake. Jake. Jake.

Jared closed the browser on his phone and tapped his brother’s name in the contact list.

“You fucking did this, didn’t you?” he said when Jake answered. He pressed his fingers hard against his temple, trying to maintain what little control he had left.

“Hello, Jared.”

“Don’t ‘hello Jared’ me. You leaked this. You fucking told them about her and now it’s everywhere!”

“I just ripped off the bandage, Jared. He’s gone. It’s time to move on.”

“It’s not my life I care about! It’s going to ruin her business.”

Jake let out a long sigh on the other end. “You know, I don’t think you give her enough credit. Or people, generally.”

“You know what ‘people generally’ are saying? ‘I wonder if they’ve compared scars.’ That’s why I don’t give ‘people generally’ any credit, Jake. I can’t believe you did this to her. I thought you guys liked her.”

Jared hung up and tossed the phone onto the seat beside him. Immediately it buzzed with a text. He picked it up again and saw Phlox’s name.

I love you.

And a moment later,
And I don’t care if the entire world knows it.
He waited to see if anything else came through, but the phone was silent after that.

I love you.
No woman had ever told him she loved him. Not that Jared had ever expected any to. They loved his money. They loved his cars. His vacation homes. The parties he could take them to. But him? No, they had never loved him.

And that had been fine. He liked to think he was an eminently realistic man. It wasn’t realistic to expect a woman to choose his ugly, scarred mug when there were millions of men with perfect handsome faces. He was realistic enough, too, to know that Phlox Miller would get over it soon enough. There would be plenty of other men to help her through it. That guy in the restaurant, for starters. He wouldn’t be an embarrassment to her company the way Jared would.

He didn’t reply to her message. Instead he put the car back in gear and pulled out onto the highway. He had never expected a woman to love him. He had never expected to love a woman, either. He loved Phlox. He wouldn’t deny that. But he also loved her too much to ruin her business, to ruin everything she had worked so hard to accomplish. He couldn’t do that to her—and he would be man enough to ignore the slashing knife of pain that was right now shredding what was left of his heart.

He was good at that anyway, ignoring pain.