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“Oh, I thought you said I did,” arching his brow.
I ran to my room. I grab my hiking backpack, already packed with a tent and a sleeping bag. I fill a tote with essentials and rejoin Jack in the living room.
“What the hell is that?” Jack asks, sweeping me with a look of disapproval.
“What’s what?” I ask, checking myself out. “God, I look ridiculous.”
If it weren’t for the drawstring at the waist of Jack’s joggers, these pants would not stay up on me. He releases a short, blunt laugh.
“Now you’re worried about your appearance?” he asks.
There is a knock at the door to the rhythm of Shave and a Haircut. Jack’s lawyer pushes open the door without being invited. He has slick written all over him.
He, too, has the $500 haircut and Rodeo Drive threads. Only on him, it looks semi-sleazy. He oozes smarm, not charm. His eyes meet mine, and he looks guilty.
“I am leaving,” I say, my voice dropping an octave. I get angry just looking at him.
Jack’s phone rings again. He shuts off his phone.
“Is that your admirer?” his lawyer teases Jack.
“I can’t get rid of her,” Jack mutters.
“Lovely,” I say. “You don’t have to talk about me like I can’t hear you. I don’t know why you have your lawyer here. I am packed and ready to go.”
“Go where?” the lawyer asks, then launches right into an introduction. “Brody Dillman.”
I don’t accept his hand. I scowl. “I know who you are,” I hiss.
“Jack thought I could maybe explain a few things to you,” he continues, unphased by my rejection.
My eyes shift to Jack, whose expression is somber.
“I can’t believe that Jack got something so wrong,” I say, looking Jack dead in the eye. There is a sensual vibe flowing between us where animosity should be.
Chapter 3
Jack
“Look,” I say. “As a gesture of good faith, here.” I handed the keys to my beloved ‘63 Porsche Cabriolet convertible to Brynne. I dangle them between us, almost like I am holding a ball of mistletoe. Brody’s eyes spread about as wide as they possibly could. I sort of did this as much for his benefit as Brynne’s. Brody generally doesn’t like it when I do the right thing.
A thought came to me somewhere in the drama that hopefully has just settled down.I am rich enough. I don’t need to hurry on this.I can give Brynne some more time to accept the inevitable. My brain is firing, churning out solutions for the problems I caused her. One thought is that I have several personal homes from here to Beverly Hills. Many I never even visit. I could probably share.
What is going on with me? Why do I want to take care of this woman?
“You’re going to give me your car?” she confirms incredulously.
“Yeah,” Brody seconds, his face in an anxious knot. “I’d like to know the answer to that too.”
I turn to him, issuing my deadliest browbeat that makes him back up.
“Have my checks ever bounced?” I ask coldly.
“No,” he says at once, holding up his hands and calling a truce.
I turn to Brynne, whose smirk doesn’t strike me as one of glee that I’ve given her the use of my costly toy – but rather, one of mockery.
“I have another,” I shrug.
