Just Friends To . . . Just Married. Renee Roszel
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am your friend. I’m only trying to get the whole picture.”
“The whole picture is I’m upset and I need you to be on my side. Be my friend. Tell me he’s a beast and I’m well rid of him.”
“Okay, he’s a beast and you’re well rid of him,” he dead-panned.
She crossed her arms and glared. “That’s a good start. Now let’s work on making it sound like you mean it.”
He eyed her silently, then said, “I am your friend, Kim. But a friend tells you the truth. If you want a yes-man then you’ll have to hire one. From me, you get honesty.”
“Is that so?” she asked, “Then how much would you charge to be my yes-man?”
“Stop kidding.”
“I’m not kidding.” She struggled to keep from bursting into tears. She didn’t know why she was so agitated or why she was on her feet. Apparently her relaxing bath with all those yummy bubbly jets were no match for Jax’s disapproval, even if, at this stage, it was only a possibility on the horizon. She patted around on her hips as though searching for pockets. “I don’t have any money on me, but if I run upstairs and get ten bucks, would it buy me a ‘Perry is a big jerk and everything will be all right’?”
“Perry.”
“Huh?”
He seemed to have turned inward for a second. When she spoke, he refocused on her. “Nothing.” Appearing vaguely troubled, he worked his jaw. She wondered what he was thinking. After a second, he indicated her food. “Why don’t you eat, then get a good night’s rest. We can talk when you’re fresher.” He stood. “I think it would be best if I leave you alone for a while.”
She was so surprised and disconcerted by his abrupt decision to go, she couldn’t move or speak. She didn’t want him to leave. The whole point of coming here was to be with him. When she opened her mouth to say so, he stopped her by taking her arm and firmly guiding her back to the chair. “Sit.” With both hands on her shoulders, he coaxed her down. “Eat.”
Once sitting, she stared up at him. “But—”
“You’re tired. I’m tired,” he said, before she could go on. “I can see you’re in no mood to be rational.”
“Rational!” She started to stand, but he foiled her plan by placing a restraining hand on her shoulder.
“Sit.” He shook his head at her. “Stay.”
She made a face. “I am not your dog.”
He exhaled heavily and turned away, mumbling something that sounded like “A dog would be less trouble and more affectionate.”
“What?”
He didn’t turn back, merely shook his head. “I said leave the dishes and turn off the lights as you go to bed.”
“That’s not what it sounded like.”
“Good night, Kim,” he called back, disappearing from view.
She glared at the empty kitchen door, fists balled. After a few seconds, she calmed down enough to realize he was right. She needed time and distance from this afternoon to be totally rational on the subject of Perry’s desertion. Jax was an expert on “totally rational” because if there was one thing Jax was, besides brilliant, it was rational.
She could hear his rapid tread as he jogged up the stairs two at a time. He was really going. “Hey,” she shouted. “What happened to my hug?”
Somewhere in the distance a door slammed.
CHAPTER THREE
FOR Jax the night became an endless roller-coaster ride. He got no rest, tossing, turning, pacing and glaring out of the window, then tossing and turning some more. He couldn’t bear to have Kim around, so near him, her scent driving him to distraction, her soft, radiant hair begging to be stroked. Her blasted need to be hugged, with those “best friend” pecks on his cheeks and jaw driving him crazy. Was it possible she didn’t know what she did to him? Or was she so narcissistic she needed to torture him to get her jollies?
He ground out a blasphemy. Of course, she didn’t know. He blamed his frustration and fatigue for such asinine thinking. Standing before his window, exhausted yet wide-awake, he peered at his watch. Illuminated by the rosy glow of dawn, its silver hands broke the bad news: 5:33 Heaving a weary groan, he decided he might as well go in to work. Yawning between mumbled curses, he went through the motions, his mind clouded by conflicted emotions.
He heard no stirrings from the guest room, so he quietly went downstairs to find the kitchen spotless. Apparently Kim hadn’t left the dishes after all. “Thanks for that, at least,” he grumbled. “You kept me up all night, wanting you, knowing I can never have you, but the dishes are clean.” Resentment spiked in him. The trade-off was light-years away from being even.
By rote he made his usual pot of coffee and filled his insulated travel mug. Before he left he scribbled Kim a note about being back around six, suggesting she relax and promising to bring home the makings for her favorite dinner. Taco salad. A favored meal would set a better tone for a frank discussion. Perhaps she might even be willing to admit her commitment phobia. Maybe she could begin to understand that if she ever wanted to have a lasting relationship with a man, she needed to deal with that first. If he did his job as friend and fixer well, one day Kim would find lasting happiness with some man.
Some other damn man.
He headed down the stairs to his garage, slid into his Jaguar coupe, and fired up the engine. “The irony is,” he muttered, “the one relationship she’s genuinely committed to is ours—so pathetically platonic it’s killing me.”
At six-thirty, he arrived at the high-rise office of Gideon and Ross, Business Productivity Consultants, to find his partner, Tracy Ross, already there. No great shock, since she practically lived in her office. Her door stood open, so as he passed by he crossed her line of sight.
“Hey,” she called, “I didn’t expect you for another hour. What gives? Problem?”
He didn’t want to air his “problem” with Tracy, but knowing her burr-under-the-saddle personality, he might as well come clean, or she’d poke at it until it bled. Tracy was an exceptional businesswoman and an able partner, but she was an equally exceptional snoop with an exceptional snoop’s radar.
He glowered at her. “Is it illegal to come in early?”
She grinned at him from behind her polished steel and Plexiglas desk. Tracy was a handsome woman with a close-cropped cap of naturally platinum hair and features made striking by exquisite bone structure. Designer half glasses perched on her slender nose. In heels she towered nearly as tall as he, which made her an intimidating six-three. She was as no-nonsense in business as she was classy in her choice of attire. Without any long-term, personal relationships and no interest whatsoever in the male sex, her life was her work.
Therefore, their business relationship was simply that, un-complicated by sexuality. They both knew that many of their clients assumed they were lovers. The premise amused them. In actuality, they were a well-oiled machine, moving up fast in their profession, with an outstanding reputation for competence and positive results. He respected Tracy, prized her business acumen, was comfortable with their relationship, except at moments like these, when a male partner would ignore an awareness of a problem or never detect one at all.
“It’s not illegal to come in early, Jax Man.” She removed her reading glasses and set them on the legal-size notepad in front of her. “If it were, I’d be a lifer.” She motioned for him to come in. “I brought muffins.”
He half smiled. Even as all-business as she was, there were times when she reminded him of his grandmother. “Homemade?”
“Naturally.” She shoved the open tin toward