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Sunshine sliced through glass sliders in the already bright kitchen, and a beam of light fell across Jenna’s face, the glare apropos for her interrogation. “He came to my room after the concert.”
Anne clapped her hands in delight while Randi muttered a stream of profanity.
“You didn’t. Jenna Welles, please tell me you didnotsleep with him.”
“I didn’t…but I wanted to.”
Racing to the counter, Anne grabbed the coffee pot. “Details, I want details!” She poured more of the brew all around.
“We kissed, that’s all.”
“Kissed?” Randi puckered her lips like a guppy. “Or kiss kissed. Did you make out with him?”
“Oh for Heaven’s sake, they aren’t thirteen,” Anne scolded. Then she sighed and her expression, once again, turned adolescently wistful. “Was it wonderful? Did he tell you he still loves you?”
“Not in those exact words.”
“I knew it!” Randi slapped her hand on the table hard enough to make coffee quiver in all three cups. “He’s using you.”
“For what? Do you think Eric Laine has a problem getting laid?” Anne turned and patted Jenna’s hand. “Sorry for being so blunt.” She whipped her head around to redirect her ire at Randi. “What would he possibly be using her for?”
“To get even, to soothe his ego, who knows? Jenna walked out on him. Big stars like that can’t stand the rejection.”
“He wasn’t even famous back then,” Anne corrected. “He was a busboy.”
Jenna jumped up from the table, her fists balled tightly at her sides. She and Eric had tolerated two solid years of the media attaching “Busboy” to his name as if it was a royal title. “He wasn’t a busboy! He was a bar-back, and a carpenter, and a lifeguard, and a waiter. He was never a fucking busboy!”
Startled, Anne blinked, and Randi apologized for her negativity. “I’m sorry, Jen. I’m just so afraid he’ll hurt you again. Especially after you tell him about Janie. I just don’t think you should get too involved with him yet.”
“If he loves you, he’ll get past it,” Anne said.
Jenna folded back down into her chair, wondering which one of her friends was right.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ash Baldwin called The Highland Casino, a hotel an hour away from Cromline. The place was a beacon of steel and smoky glass settled between a gorge in the nearby mountains. Rooms were luxe with thick carpeting, sconces aglow against pearly wallpaper, jet tubs, and layers of silky linens on plush, king-sized beds. “I’d like to book a room for Friday night. I also want a plate of chocolate covered strawberries, chilled champagne, and a dozen red roses in the suite.”
After finalizing the reservation, he stripped out of his jacket, and hung it on a hook in the corner of the construction trailer. Stopping in front of a mirror, he tightened his pectoral muscles so they danced beneath his shirt. He smiled. “She’ll be sendingmeroses after I’m done with her.”He dialed the number of Jenna’s store.
“Rhapsody,” she answered.
“I hope we’re still on for Friday night. I made arrangements for something special.”
A length of silence yawned through the line. “I’m sorry. I have other plans.”
He gnashed his teeth together but steered his voice into an easy register. “Anything you can get out of?”
“Afraid not.”
“Another time then. We’re still on for the hospital benefit next week, right? You wouldn’t cancel on me and break my poor lonely heart, would you?” Not waiting for a reply, he laughed and said goodbye. His next call was to Willy Parks.
Ten minutes later, the police chief was at the construction office rolling his tongue around a double-dip, chocolate ice cream cone.
“You were supposed to arrest him.” Ash hammered the words into Willy’s face, and it almost caused the top tier of the ice cream to topple onto his uniform shirt.
“Be reasonable. I said I’d find a way to hold him as soon as he drove into town, but he never leaves the Cummings’ place.”
“Well, if my guess is correct, he’ll be leaving it Friday night. You have him picked up.” Ash stepped behind his desk and sat. An e-mail confirming his booking at the Casino opened up on his tablet. Stabbing at the screen, he pressed “cancel reservation.” He turned to Willy. “By the way, the next time I call you to my office don’t make any pit stops. You don’t need that ice cream. You’re getting fat.”
