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"Which window are you aiming at?"
Jason ignored him. Dil wasn't a romantic; he didn't understand about fate.
"Which window?"
"The one this hits.” Using all the strength and coordination he could muster, Jason launched the coin.
"You don't even know? Is this even her building?"
Jason stared up at the night sky.
Laine was going to love this. She'd come to the window, her hair all falling down around her shoulders, maybe a tissue in her hand. She'd see him and wipe away her last tear.
"Watch it!"
Jerked back into the now, Jason blinked, his face still tilted skyward, there was no one at the window. But what the hell was that coming straight—"Fuck!"
Jason was on the ground, blinking at the warm goo oozing into his eye where the heavy coin had hit him.
Dil's face popped into this line of vision. “For crissakes, you're a bleeder too? That's it. Night over. We're going back to the hotel."
Wiping at his eye, the back of his hand came away wet and sticky. He was an ass. “Is she going to take me back?"
"I don't know, man.” Dil's voice softened as he hefted Jason off the ground. “But definitely not tonight."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter FourSaturday, the twenty-sixth of June
The week since Laine slipped out of his life had been torture. Jason had felt like an ass after Saturday night and tried to convince himself that maybe he was better off, that he'd somehow dodged a bullet, but every minute that passed without her increased his sense of dread. By Sunday night he knew without a doubt he'd been terribly wrong.
Damn it, it was her job, and he trusted her. No matter what she chose to do with the information, she must have believed it was the right thing.
He phoned her, but his calls went straight to voicemail, and he hung up without leaving a message. He'd thought he would see her around the hotel. Only she'd missed her appointments, and, suspecting she was avoiding him, he decided to wait until Saturday. She'd never miss a job.
There was a wedding booked for the rooftop rose garden at ten that morning, reception following in the ballroom at noon. Blissful Brides Inc. listed as the contact for arrangements. Jason had been staking out the lobby since six-thirty, and as a precaution he'd left instructions at the desk that when Laine came in, she was to be sent directly to his apartment. Now, at eight-thirty-six, the wedding planner finally strolled in, arms laden with a confusion of papers, looking almost put together.
Connie, not Laine.
Jason's brow furrowed. He didn't want to get stuck with the old crow playing intermediary between them, but nothing else had worked. He needed to know if Laine had passed off just this job or all of her weddings booked at the Henley.
Connie Bliss was only in her late fifties but smoking and sun had added more years than any plastic surgeon could remove and, with her over-processed helmet of hair, she looked like the nasty grandmother no one wanted to snuggle. Watching her brittle steps th
rough the lobby, Jason thought it smart business that she kept to the management end of Blissful Brides and let her more approachable associates handle the people part.
He took a few strides up to her. “Connie, I thought we had a deal about Laine. She handles all my accounts, and I refer all inquiries to Blissful Brides. Where is she?"
"There you are, Jason. Nice to see you again,” she said, bustling by, before she stopped and squinted at him. “Good lord, what happened to your nose?"
Damn it. “Bar fight."
She nodded slowly, pursing her lips. “It's a shame about Laine, but some people just don't have what it takes for this business. Have you got some kind of space I can set up in? Our bride's special day is going to have to roll smoothly on its own—it'll take a few weeks for me to familiarize myself with each gal's requirements. You know how much of a hassle these needy girls can be."
"Hold on, Connie, let me help you with this stuff.” Knowing it would warm her up, he grabbed a loose stack of papers that appeared to have spilled out once or twice already. Wet coffee saturated the corners of several sheets and crumbs sprinkled out of the stacks as he straightened them. “What are you talking about with Laine? Where is she?"
Connie arched an eyebrow, sizing him up. He met her demanding stare and raised it.
Connie gave first. “She wasn't up for the job, dear. She flat out refused to follow my direct order about some rather unpleasant business with the wedding last weekend, trouble with a groom, you know. You'd think she'd have some respect for the years I've put into this business, but she wouldn't listen to reason. Ran off and spilled to the bride against my express orders not to. What did it get her? Nothing but a sad girl in a white dress going through with the wedding anyway. Knowing her man was swapping spit with a groomsman instead of her. Hmph. I've seen everything. If I'd been the one meeting with those two, I would have known in an instant that he swung the other way, and ... I would have known the bride knew about it too."
