Trusting Jake (Blueprint To Love Book 1) (23 page)

"Oh man."

Jake's wistful thoughts dissipated. Shifting his gaze from the contract he was supposedly studying, he glanced across the table at his former friend. "What's up?"

In the light of day, he was having trouble making eye contact with Baldwin– not without Jenna's words returning to haunt him. The bastard seated across from him had harassed Jen. His sleazy ultimatum had gotten her fired. In re-reading the contract this morning, he'd discovered at least four loopholes– things he'd readily dismissed several weeks earlier. But now– he couldn't get past them. Still unsure what other information Jenna possessed, he couldn't dismiss her concerns. In the last fifteen minutes, he'd decided to withdraw Specialty from the project– he just hadn't figured out the best way to tell Steve.

"Would ya look at those legs? Man, she is
so
built." 

"It's eight in the morning. Do you ever think of anything else?"

"Please tell me you got a piece of that action last night." Baldwin locked eyes with him. "I tried, but all she wanted to talk was business. Change orders. Site conditions." He chuckled. "Yada. Yada. Whatever, babe. Just shut up and get naked."

His body tightened with a nearly instantaneous rage and he knew without turning, the bastard was referring to Jen.
His
Jenna.

"I'd kill for a shot at nailin' her."

"Have you lost your mind?" The ice in his voice should have warned Steve that speaking another syllable would be to his peril. The idiot hadn't even noticed he'd half-risen from his chair. Glancing over his shoulder, Jake scanned the restaurant, freezing when he saw her. He prayed Jen wouldn't see them . . . prayed she wouldn't come to their table. Not now.

Relief left him drained when she chose a table near the windows on the far side of the room. Thank God, she hadn't seen them. His tension lessened slightly. Only an hour earlier he'd left her, still sleeping when he crept from her room, her body still warm from his. It hadn't been an accident the previous evening that he'd neglected to mention where his early morning meeting would be held. At the time, he hadn't wanted Jen anywhere near Steve– if only to save her from his inappropriate comments. And later– he hadn't wanted to remind her of the terrible accusations he'd hurled.

"I've always had a thing for redheads. That one . . . damn her. Those legs." Steve shook his head. "Same girl . . . different name."

"Jenna," Jake corrected coldly. On second thought, he was going to enjoy telling Baldwin where he could stick his project.

"No– Jenny. Her name was Jenny Cahill when I knew her."

"W- what did you say?" Jake wouldn't have thought his rigid body could tighten more. Yet, with a lightning bolt of clarity– he knew he'd heard that name before. With a fatalistic sense of certainty he knew Steve was right. Jen was juggling more than one secret.

"Your girlfriend used to work at Whitney."

Where he'd forced himself on her. Jen hadn't wanted him to know what happened– the
reason
for her job search. The bastard had fired her. Almost beyond Jake's control, it took every ounce of control not to reach across the table and strangle his former friend. The only thing keeping Baldwin alive was his sudden desire for more information. Why was the name Cahill familiar?  

When she'd gone so pale the previous morning . . . he'd assumed Jen was nervous about the deal. She'd practically turned green when he'd introduced her to Steve. But maybe what he'd read in her eyes was fear. Fear that
Steve
would give her away.

"Jenny's changed her hair." Baldwin waved his hands around his head in explanation. "It was really long and wild. And she's toned down her clothes."

"Jenna."

Baldwin glanced up, bewildered by the change in his tone. "Yeah . . . whatever."

"What's wrong with her clothes?"

Releasing a low whistle, Baldwin shook his head. "Her old man really liked to advertise the package." He grinned. "He used to brag about what a great lay she was. Can you imagine? I mean– his own freakin' wife!" Disregarding the no smoking signs, Baldwin picked up his pack of cigarettes and tapped one out. "Even when she was knocked up, she was still hot. We used to walk around drooling. Got so bad I'd get a boner just thinkin' about her."

He was going to punch him. "We?" He would kill every last one of them.

"Shit, man– everyone. But Legs wouldn't put out." Baldwin snickered. "What a moron. She never figured out her old man was screwin' anything that walked. Sugarlegs just sat at home with her kids."

The tension eased fractionally from his coiled muscles. Disgust washed over him, so intense it left his stomach churning. Jake slid his coffee away when the smell threatened to nauseate him. What the hell had Jenna endured?

"Even after Rick dumped her . . . it was like she was too friggin' good for any of us."

Rick.

Rick Cahill.
The hospital
. A chill swept over him as he remembered. The day in the emergency room. Jen had been panic-stricken. She'd used the name Cahill. And then she'd caught her mistake. Rick Cahill was the husband who'd run around on her, who'd paraded her in front of his friends, making a mockery of their marriage.

Dragging in a breath, he tried to reign in his revulsion. It was a miracle Rick hadn't destroyed her. No wonder Jen was so closed off from him . . . from everyone. No wonder she hadn't wanted him to know about Baldwin. Steve was the enemy. Her worst nightmare.

Yet, she'd cared enough about Specialty to risk exposure. Jen knew Baldwin would remember her . . . yet she'd approached him anyway. A helpless surge of frustration washed over him. She couldn't tell
him
about Baldwin without bringing up her past. A past she was still running from– that quite possibly, Jenna was ashamed of. As though it had somehow been her fault.

"I won in the end. Taught the frigid bitch a lesson." Steve chuckled as he crushed out his cigarette.

Rubbing his forehead, he tried to shake his loathing long enough to focus on what Baldwin was saying. She should have been cherished. She should have been protected. Jenna had experienced the ultimate humiliation– at the hands of her husband.

I've never experienced anything like that
- Jen's admission returned to haunt him. Each time they'd made love– she'd been overwhelmed. And while he'd been flattered, Jake had also begun to wonder why.

Christ– she'd never- 

Certain he was about to lose breakfast, his heart pumped overtime, each thundering beat roaring in his ears. His hand shook violently when he reached for his water glass. Jake was suddenly unsure whether he could handle knowing the extent of Jen's suffering. If Rick had hurt her physically-  He would kill him. His hand froze around the glass when Baldwin's words began to filter through his shell-shocked brain. Baldwin said Rick left her. That didn't make sense. If Rick was gone, then where was her hus-

"We'd all had it with her. Figured . . . what the hell? None of us were getting any action from Ice Queen, so we set her up."

"What do you mean?" His stomach twisted again. Under the table, his hand flexed spasmodically into a fist.

Baldwin laughed as he fiddled with his spoon, tapping it nervously on the saucer. "She was up for a promotion and a few of us. . ." He paused, swallowing hard. "Hell, now that I think of it, I'm sorta embarrassed."

It took all the control he possessed not to drive his fist through Baldwin's face. . . in the middle of the hotel coffee shop.

"We, uh . . . went to the VP and told him that Jenny slept with most of us. It started as a joke, ya know? But, she ended up getting fired."

"
You
got her fired?"

"Not really. It was a joke. Hell– it was Jenny's fault, too. She shoulda said something-"

Jake rose from the table, every cell in his body throbbing with the need to pummel the unsuspecting man sitting across the table. Instead, he waited, breathing. In. Out. A full minute passed before his jaw unclenched enough for him to speak. He stuffed the contract into his briefcase.

"Hey! Where you goin'?" Baldwin appeared stunned.

"We're done," he said softly.

"Jake, what the hell? We got a contract to finalize."

"Specialty is withdrawing from the project."

Steve bolted up from the table. "You can't do that! I'll sue."

Rounding the table, he closed the distance between them. Until the molten rage blazing from his eyes was enough to make Steve take a step back. His rigid body belied the deceptive quiet of his voice.

"You'd better be ready to spend every last dime you've got. Because that's what it'll take." He dragged in another steadying breath. "I'll make sure we're tied up in court so long, you'll wish you'd never heard of Specialty."

Baldwin sneered from the relative safety of the three-foot clearance he'd given himself. "You're an idiot. Just like that - you're gonna throw everything away? This is your shot, man. I took a chance... setting this up for you."

"Setting
me
up is more likely."

"You do this . . . and we're through," he challenged. "No one in Baltimore will touch you." Steve shook his head. "You'd turn down an opportunity like this? For that useless slut?"

Baldwin never knew what hit him. Jake smiled when his fist finally connected with the jaw he'd been itching to punch for the last fifteen minutes. Waggling sore fingers, he watched Steve slump to the floor– his only regret being that he'd gone down so fast.

"Her name is Jenna." He tossed a bill on the table, adding a generous tip for the mess he'd be leaving at the table.

Chapter 13

Clutching her stomach, Jenna slumped to the cold, marble tiled floor. After twenty minutes, there couldn't possibly be anything left inside. She had to get up–
needed
to get out of there. She had to pack and leave, and she had to do it soon.

She staggered to her feet, tears streaming down her face. No wonder Jake hadn't bothered to wake her. He couldn't wait to get the scoop straight from Baldwin. Unwilling to believe her, he'd immediately beaten a path to his old friend. When she discovered them together in the coffee shop– she'd seen Jake look over his shoulder. Searching for
her
- She'd known instantly she was the subject of their conversation.

Fighting a wave of dizziness, she stumbled from the bathroom and collapsed on the edge of the bed, trying desperately not to look at the tangled sheets. The pillow was still indented where they'd shared it. Jake had been so tender . . . so caring. There had been moments during the night when she would have sworn he felt something for her . . . something more than just passion. How stupid was that? As though wishing he loved her was enough to make it happen. Jen knew better.

She'd never slept with anyone except Rick. For years, she'd wondered if she was any good at it. Her husband had reminded her often enough that she was a letdown.
Boring Jenny
. One of his many excuses for cheating. But Jake had seemed– happy. Now, she would have to leave Specialty because there was certainly no way to
move past
sex. At least not for her. Working with him each day– and pretending nothing had happened? Not touching him? Not showing any emotion? The love threatening to burst from her chest. Yet how would she summon the courage to leave? How would she ever let him go?

Jake would take care of that part. He'd be the one letting
her
go. She shook her head sadly. It had been a night she would always remember . . . and now she had a morning-after she would never forget. Jake was downstairs . . . hearing the unbearably sordid details of her life. It didn't matter that Baldwin's stories were untrue. He would hear that she'd slept with her boss. And he'd remember the night he'd just shared with her- Jake would conclude she made a habit of sleeping with the boss.

She threw her head between her knees as another wave of nausea hit.
Focus, Jen
. She needed to be gone by the time he returned– if he bothered to return. She wasn't Jenna Stone anymore. She was Jenny Cahill again, only this time- she'd finally earned Jenny's reputation. She was the office slut Baldwin always rumored her to be.       

Sheer will forcing Jenna from the bed, she stumbled to the closet. Flinging her suitcase on the rumpled covers, she methodically began shoving clothes into it.

***

Jenna was still a mess nearly two hours later, but at least she was safely away from Baltimore. In fact, she was nearly home. Sniffing, she dabbed her eyes for the millionth time. Thankfully, the concierge had secured a rental car. She had cleared out of her room in a matter of minutes, then tucked herself into the dimmest corner of the lounge to wait for her car. Despite her worst fear, she hadn't caught a glimpse of Jake.

Her anxiety increased as she neared the city limits. At some point, she would have to return to Specialty. There wasn't much in her desk, but the thought of leaving anything personal behind . . . of leaving any reminder– to be laughed at and joked over– was too much to bear. Yet the thought of going there now left her shivering with apprehension.

For the past hour, she'd been unable to get warm. The heat in the tiny subcompact was pumping full blast, yet still she shivered. And her head felt as though it wanted to split in two. No– she wouldn't drive to work this afternoon. Relief poured through her as she remembered she could use her key and let herself in after everyone left for the day. Before Jake returned from Baltimore, Jen would collect her things. Before everyone at Specialty knew she was history.

But it wouldn't be tonight. Not if the pounding in her head had any say. Tonight, she needed to lie down. Crawl under the blankets and go to sleep for a week. Glancing at her watch, she had to blink twice before the blurry numbers came into focus. Thankfully, she'd reached Mona to tell her she'd pick up the kids at daycare. She wouldn't have been able to face those knowing eyes. Not feeling this vulnerable.

If she picked the kids up early, she could get them home and with any luck . . . collapse on the couch for a few hours. Real sleep would have to wait until later. Much later. Jen winced when she thought of the long night ahead. Feeling as she did, the evening would be an eternity.          

***

Jake checked his rearview mirror before shifting lanes and accelerating. He tried not to feel frantic, but the knot of despair in his stomach tightened with each passing minute. Jen was gone. She'd checked out without knowing the trip would be cut short. She still didn't know he'd backed out of the contract. Which meant– she'd bolted.

As soon as he'd left Baldwin slumped in his chair, he'd headed to the far side of the coffee shop, searching for her. But she was gone. Assuming she'd taken her breakfast to go, Jake headed upstairs to check on her. And discovered her clothes missing. Jenna was gone.

Why hadn't she left a note?

"The kids," he muttered. Only her children could provoke a reaction like that. The trip to the hospital flashed in his memory and he winced at the stark terror he'd witnessed that day, when Alex was hurt and Jen couldn't reach him. "Jeez, don't let it be the kids." Not with him so far away. The fact that she'd left without a word gnawed at him. How could he have missed her? How had she disappeared so quickly? Unless. . .

Swallowing around the desert in his throat, he glanced at his watch for the twentieth time. Unless she'd left
because
of him. Because of last night. His gut twisted tighter. Why would Jen leave him? After what they'd shared. Was it embarrassment? Or regret?

A terrible chill invaded his chest, his hands tightening reflexively on the steering wheel. What if it was guilt? Jenna had cheated– on a deadbeat, worthless husband. She'd cheated with him.    

"Christ." Maybe in her eyes, he was on par with Rick. It didn't matter if their marriage
was
over. What mattered was that Jake had been a party to it. To make it worse, he hadn't even told her he loved her. Not that his confession would've made much difference. He'd betrayed his own values– his rock solid, tough-as-nails, no-gray-area belief that you never touch another man's wife.

He'd taken his integrity and tossed it out the window. The only difference was that he'd done it willingly. Jake had done it knowing he loved her. He'd done it with the knowledge that he would-

Marry her? Did that make a difference? His throat constricted with something close to panic and he fought for control. Truth was . . . he didn't give a damn about Rick. If he could convince Jen to finally divorce that bastard and marry him . . . he could live with himself. The battle to persuade her was a fight he wouldn't risk losing. And if–
when
– she said yes, he would drop to his knees and thank God he'd won.

Jen had to have feelings for him. Strong ones. She might try to deny them . . . but they were there. No way would she have slept with him without caring. Not, he prayed, without love. She loved him. He'd seen it reflected in her eyes. She just didn't know it yet.

Jake hadn't been surprised by Baldwin's sneering description of Jenna, of her loyalty to Rick. He'd been repulsed by the picture Baldwin had painted– enraged by what she'd endured, but not surprised. He knew instinctively Jen would never have cheated on her husband.

Even now, after the miraculous night they'd shared . . . she couldn't possibly have regretted it. The connection between them was so strong, so powerful. Unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Whatever remained between her and Rick was dead. . . or dying.       

"I should have talked with her this morning." Maybe if he'd woken her, Jen wouldn't have panicked. If she knew how much he loved her. If she'd known he wanted to marry her-  

Uneasiness washed over him as he fought to stem his uncertainty. Dammit, how could she not know how he felt? How could she not know he would give up anything for her?

The bitter words he'd hurled at her the previous night returned to haunt him. The jealous accusations. Words he'd uttered out of frustration. From a well of agony. As close to desperate as he'd ever been. Jen couldn't still believe he didn't trust her– not after what they'd shared. She couldn't possibly believe that all he saw in her– all he cared about was sex. How could she believe he could make love to her– and walk away? How could she think he would use her-

A low groan escaped his throat. Hell, after what she'd lived through, it was probably the
first
thing she would think. And if Jenna didn't know he loved her . . . that he was crazy about her–

Then today, she might be feeling ashamed.

Distracted, Jake massaged his aching head. He had to get home. Three messages on her cell told him she wasn't taking his calls. "We're talking this out, Jen." He would go to her and straighten it all out. There had to be a way to fix this. Even if he had to beg her to listen. Scanning the overhead signs, he confirmed he was still more than an hour away.

How could you love someone so much and still screw it up? His thoughts drifting to his parents, he grimaced. It was impossible not to think of Mona and how he'd judged her. About his parents' marriage– about the mental image he'd held of them– the one he'd wanted to believe. And the reality of how it had likely been.

How could he stand by his belief that his mother never should have left his father, when he truly believed Jenna should leave her husband for him? How was it right for
him
to love another man's wife?  

He was a hypocrite. He couldn't help what he felt for Jen no matter how he'd tried to fight it. The desperation. The need. The actual, physical pain of loving her more than he cared for anyone, including himself. In spite of his efforts, the feelings had only intensified.

It had been easy to dismiss his mother's complaints about Linc. He worked too much . . . he was never there. In his arrogance, Jake had believed his father had given her a lifestyle most women dreamed of. But what Mona had wanted was a husband. And Linc hadn't made time to give her that.

He'd continued to punish his mother, solely on his assumptions- when he hadn't known shit about their marriage. "No," he corrected, shaking his head. When he hadn't
wanted
to admit what their marriage was really like. Linc had tried to explain, but he'd refused to listen. His father knew Mona's reasons– and didn't blame her.

But all along, he'd treated his mother as though her only interest had been money . . . his father's money. As though she hadn't worked just as hard. It had been easier to punish his mother than to analyze her real reasons. Easier to treat Mona as though she had no right to find happiness somewhere else. As though
his
opinion mattered more than her own.

As though his was the only heart breaking when his parents divorced.

Dragging in a deep breath, Jake blew it out, his hands locked on the wheel.
God, what had he done?
He'd abandoned her. When she'd needed her kids' support the most. His skin crawled with shame at the realization.

All these years . . . Mona had left the door open– should he ever change his mind. Should he ever admit how wrong he'd been. His mother hadn't given up. She still loved him. Each time they met, she offered him the chance to start over.

Jen was right. He hadn't been brave enough to voice his true feelings . . . the raw sense of betrayal he'd felt, the cold, hard disbelief. Because if he
had
, it would have provided her with a chance to explain. It would have freed him of his grudge against her. And he hadn't wanted to forgive.

He fumbled with his sunglasses when his eyes blurred with tears. Choking them back, he fought to regain control. And when he couldn't, he swiped his eyes and drove blindly for the next exit ramp.          

***

"Jackson? W-what are you-"

Jake had been standing on his mother's doorstep a full two minutes before he'd summoned the courage to ring the bell. His hands shaking, he forced a half-hearted smile, uncertain whether he'd be able to speak around the painful lump in his throat. Mona Traynor's first expression had been one of shock, but as he continued to stand there . . . saying nothing, her eyes widened with fear . . . as though bracing herself for bad news from a stranger.

"Oh my God. I-is it Linc?"

The raw terror in her voice was enough to jar him. "No," he finally said. "Everyone's okay. I- um. . . I was wondering if-"  He shook his head derisively when his words seemed to lodge in his throat and die. So much for his epiphany. Taking a deep breath, he tried again. "I was wondering if I could come in for a few minutes? I-I'd like to talk with you."

His mother's eyes were carefully guarded, but her face had absolutely drained of color, giving him a glimpse of the real woman. His mother was always strong, always so determined to make her own way. Without exception, she'd appeared cheerful, even in the face of his unfailing coldness toward her. The knowledge that he had caused so much heartache made him sick with shame. The fact that even now, his mother was steeling herself . . . completely uncertain how he would treat her. It was right that he'd cried half the way home. By the wary look in her eyes, he knew she'd spent years crying over him.