“I’m working late this evening.” He hoped she’d suggest he drop in at her place—at their place—on his way to the apartment.
“I thought you might be. That’s why I came here first.”
A short uncomfortable silence passed. Rich wondered if he should raise the subject of her bad mood this morning or let it go. Maybe it was simply the hormonal overload. Or maybe she didn’t even know herself and regretted her reaction.
“I was thinking I’d bring some of my clothes over this evening,” Rich said, experimentally, waiting to see if she’d offer him some encouragement.
“That would be fine.”
It wasn’t encouragement, exactly, but it wasn’t opposition, either.
“I’ll contact Jason and ask if he can help me move the furniture and the large items this weekend.” He’d put what he didn’t need into storage.
“I’ll make sure there’s plenty of room for your stuff.” Jamie stood up. “I guess I’d better leave.”
“One last thing.”
“Yes?”
When Rich got to her place, he didn’t want to play any guessing games about their sleeping arrangements. “Where will I be sleeping?”
Jamie’s eyes widened at the directness of his question. “Uh…that’s up to you.”
“No, it’s not,” he returned firmly. “It’s completely up to you.”
“Anyplace you’d like,” she said almost flippantly.
“Where would you like me to sleep?” he asked, throwing the question back at her.
She hesitated, then lowered her gaze. “With me.”
He felt as though he’d scaled the gates of paradise. “There isn’t anyplace else I’d rather sleep,” he said, unable to keep the pleasure from his voice. He got to his feet and walked toward her, slipping an arm around her shoulders. Rich walked her to the elevator, and while they waited, he leaned forward and gently kissed her.
As so often happened during their kisses, Rich found himself wanting more. Much more. She braced her hands against his chest, her breath ragged, uneven. A warmth filled his heart and seemed to radiate outward.
When they broke off the kiss, Rich was delighted to see that Jamie was trembling. For that matter, so was he.
“You make me forget,” she said in a husky whisper.
Rich understood. She made him forget where he was, too.
Bill Hastings strolled by and smiled affectionately at them. He stood a discreet distance away, apparently hoping to talk to Rich.
The elevator arrived and although Rich was reluctant to let her go, he still had another hour, at least, of work.
“Goodbye, darling,” Rich said. “I’ll be home in a couple of hours.”
Jamie’s reaction was instantaneous. She tore away from him, stepped into the elevator and whirled around. Her eyes, her beautiful dark eyes, were brimming with tears.
“That’s the most horrible thing you’ve ever said to me, Rich Manning.”
Rich was so mystified by her irrational behavior that it took him a moment to respond. “What I said? What did I say?”
“You know very well.” With that, the elevator doors glided shut.
Fourteen
“What’d I say?” Rich asked, utterly bewildered. He turned to his coworker, at a loss to understand.
Bill Hastings’s blank look confirmed that he was equally in the dark.
“Whatever it was must’ve been awful. Jamie was crying.”
“I don’t know what I said,” Rich told him, baffled.
“Maybe she’s upset because you told her you wouldn’t be home for a couple of hours.”
Rich shook his head. “Maybe…” Although his working overtime had never seemed to bother Jamie before. Not that he was aware of, anyway. Sighing with frustration, Rich decided to give up trying to figure out his wife. Jamie had been a whole lot easier to understand before he married her, back when they were just friends.
“Leave now,” Bill urged. “Sort this out before it’s too late.” That meant he was offering to handle the brunt of the remaining paperwork himself, which Rich didn’t think was fair.
He shook his head again. “I’ll work it out with her later.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
Bill hesitated. “Maybe you should reconsider.” Bill gave him a look that reminded Rich his friend was divorced. He knew that Bill wished his circumstances were different. Over a beer one night, he’d told Rich that if he had it to do over again, he’d work harder to save his marriage.
Rich’s heart was racing. “You don’t mind?”
“Not at all. Go! Do what you have to before everything gets blown all out of proportion.”
“Thanks,” Rich said over his shoulder. “I owe you one.”
“Don’t mention it.… Only, Rich?”
“Yeah?”
“Be happy.”
Rich nodded. “I intend to, even if it kills me.” Remembering the furious glare Jamie had sent his way, he figured it probably would.
Although he hurried out of the building and toward guest parking, Rich missed her. Jamie’s car was nowhere in sight. He released a breath of frustration as he turned and walked to the employee parking area.
Maybe it was better that he hadn’t caught up with her. His mood wasn’t too positive at the moment, any more than hers was. Would married life always be this difficult? he wondered. Would his life consist of continually making amends for some unexplained wrong? Must he be constantly on his guard, afraid to speak his mind?
If there’d been something handy to punch, Rich would’ve done it. Plowing his fist into empty air only discouraged him more.
How fitting. Fighting imaginary ghosts. Didn’t that describe his entire marriage?
Jamie had always been a sensible woman, or she had until she’d become pregnant. Yes, he’d read pregnant women could be temperamental, but this was ridiculous.
Jamie felt like a fool. Tears had left moist trails down her cheeks. She wasn’t a woman given to such blatant emotion, and her actions surprised her even more than they did Rich.
But he deserved it, she thought in quick reversal. Calling her darling in front of his friend, putting on a big show, pretending to love her. As if saying it wasn’t enough, he had to go and wear a besotted look, as though parting was such sweet sorrow.
It all seemed to be a game with him, and she couldn’t bear to play anymore. If this was the first time, she might’ve been able to overlook it, but this nonsense had become a habit. When they’d gone to visit his parents, Rich had sat beside her, his hand clutching hers. The tender expression on his face, the loving way he’d smiled down on her, was more than she could stand.
It was all so hypocritical. Counterfeit love.
Would she ever learn? Men were fickle, not to be trusted. And yet she knew Rich, probably better than she did any other man she’d ever dated. His behavior surprised her. More than that, it hurt.
Driving while crying wasn’t safe, so Jamie pulled over to the side, got a tissue from her purse and blew her nose. When she could see clearly again, she sniffled and continued driving.
Once she was home, she wandered around her condo, walking from room to room, wondering if she’d ever be able to erase Rich’s presence. A part of her longed to chase him out of her life, run after him militantly waving a broom, demanding he leave her alone.
Another part of her hungered to run toward him, greeting him with open arms.
“This is what happens when you fall in love,” she chastised herself loudly. She pressed her hand over her smooth, flat stomach and a smile settled on her lips.
Things were different this time because a child was involved. This time she’d walk away from the relationship with a bonus. A very special bonus.
Making herself a cup of tea, Jamie sat in her kitchen, nursing her hot drink and her wounded heart. The damp tissues had piled up, but she’d composed herself enough to realize her display of anger had been out of character. No doubt Rich had viewed it as totally irrational. When she spoke to him again—if she did—she intended to set matters straight.
Pretense was unacceptable and she’d make sure Rich understood that.
There was a noise from her door. Since Jamie always kept it locked, she dashed into the living room, surprised to see it swing open. Rich, tall and ominous, entered her condo. He was supposed to be at work! In fact, she’d suspected he wouldn’t show up at all tonight, considering the way they’d parted. One brief glance at the dark, brooding anger shining from his eyes, the tightly clenched jaw, told her he was in a furious mood.
Another surprise—the suitcase he held. It was large and bulky, the kind you’d take on an extended vacation. A three-week European tour. A two-week cruise. No one would confuse it with an overnight bag.
He set it down with a thud and headed toward her. Wide-eyed, Jamie moved out of his way.
“What are you doing here?” A challenge might not be the smartest way to start their conversation, but it told him she refused to be intimidated. He could rant and rave all he wanted, but she wouldn’t be browbeaten.
“I’m here because I live here.” He said it with enough conviction to make the windows vibrate. “Furthermore, I’ll be sleeping in the master bedroom—with you. Is that understood?”
Coward that she was, Jamie nodded. She’d never seen Rich like this. Generally, he treated every situation in a joking manner. He could bluff, cajole and tease himself through just about anything. Jamie already knew what he’d be like when she was in labor. He’d be at her side telling jokes, entertaining the nurses, sharing good-ol’-boy remarks with Dr. Fullerton.
“No arguments?” He sounded shocked that she wasn’t going to fight him over the issue of living with her, sleeping with her. Despite her contradictory emotions, she wanted him there. She wanted him in her life more than she didn’t, if that made any sense.
She shook her head.
“Good.” He nodded once as if to say this was going to be easier than he’d expected. “Now please explain what I said that was so despicable, when you left my office.”
Jamie found it difficult to speak. “Darling.”
“Yes?”
“You called me darling,” she said, hating that she had to explain it. She clenched her fists, her long nails digging deep into the tender flesh of her palms.
“So?” He frowned, genuinely bewildered.
“So… I’d rather you didn’t.” A lump was forming in her throat, but Jamie tried to ignore it.
Rich stalked to the far end of her kitchen, his back toward her. He leaned against the sink, hanging his head as if her words demanded deep concentration. After a moment he turned to face her. “You’re sure it doesn’t have anything to do with me working overtime?”
“Of course not,” Jamie said. “That would be unreasonable.”
“And objecting to being called darling isn’t?”
Jamie lowered her gaze to the polished kitchen floor. “I …wouldn’t care if you’d meant it. But we both know you didn’t and worse than that—”