In Your Corner
Page 25

In response to my questioning look, Jake shrugs. “Peter entered into a verbal agreement with Duel Properties to level this block and turn it into a shopping center. Goddamn travesty. But if the buildings are occupied, it will slow the process long enough for the city to consider the residents’ application to have the street marked as a historic district. The minute I took over, I started dragging my feet over the agreement to give the residents a chance to get their application together. In response, Duel Properties started the lawsuit I brought to you.”
My law brain kicks into gear. “Is the company legally obligated to…?”
“I know what I’m doing,” he snaps.
Taken aback, I stare. Jake stares back. His eyes are bloodshot, jaw tight. Exhaustion has drawn creases in his impossibly handsome face. Without thinking, I smooth my thumb over his furrowed brow and along his jaw, scratchy with a five o’clock shadow.
“You’re not looking so good.”
He captures my hand, twining his fingers with my mine and rests it against his cheek. His eyes close for the briefest moment and then he lets me go.
“I just need sleep. It’s been a coupla days.” His voice is still gruff, but his tone softens. “Maybe a vacation, too.”
“And a few burgers?”
A smile tugs at his lips, transforming his face from haggard into handsomely haggard, and my insides melt.
“Burgers are always good.” He pulls open the door. “Come in and take a look.”
Makayla pushes past me and steps inside. Max follows behind her. But I hesitate.
“You don’t have to do this, Jake. I totally understand. I don’t want things to be uncomfortable between us…”
“Amanda.”
“…and having me for a tenant would mean we would have to see each other, which I know you don’t want because of how things ended between us, and how you just dropped me off the other night…”
“Amanda.”
“…and that’s probably for the best. I’m sure you’ve moved on, and I need to move on…have moved on. We aren’t the same people…”
“Amanda.”
“…and it’s not the kind of place…”
He cuts me off with a kiss. Soft and sweet, his lips press against mine, awakening old memories. Our first kiss in the storage room in the fitness studio, and then our second stretched out together on the mats after everyone left and we were alone. Two months of gentle kisses, tender kisses, warming my body but never breaching the walls around my heart.
My hands tremble by my sides. Do I push him away or pull him close? Do I want sweet kisses wrapped in guilty memories, or do I want something new and someone who doesn’t want what I cannot give?
And then Jake decides for me.
With a groan, he threads his fingers through my hair, holding me still as his tongue plunges into my mouth. Sweet becomes demanding, soft becomes hard. He kisses me thoroughly, remorselessly, leaving no part of my mouth untouched. My blood turns to lava and races molten through my veins.
“You’re right.” His lips burn a trail across my cheek. “I’m not the same person. Peter’s death changed me. Now I see how short life can be. There’s no time to dwell on the past. There’s no time for regret. We have to move forward.” He steps back and holds out his hand. “Might as well go inside and you can see why I didn’t think this was a good idea.”
Still reeling from his kiss, I just stare. “You kissed me.”
“Yeah.” His face softens and he gives an apologetic shrug. “I’ve been wanting to do that since you first walked into the meeting room at your old law firm. Guess I needed to get it out of my system.”
Ah. Regret and not reconciliation. An end. Not a beginning. For a moment, I am almost overwhelmed with the need to cry. But years of forced stoicism come to my rescue, and I just nod and grit my teeth, counting the seconds before I can convince Makayla to leave. “Sure.”
Jake pulls open the door, and I step into an elaborately tiled hallway. Red velvet wallpaper hangs off the walls in long strips. An ornate chandelier clings precariously to the ceiling, threatening to crash onto the worn brocade carpet covering the hardwood floor. I inhale the musty aroma of mildew and stifle a sneeze.
“It needs a lot of work.” Jake crosses the hallway and pushes aside a rotted wooden door. “Check out this room. It’s even worse.”
A soft “oh” escapes my lips as the tired majesty of what must have been a living room is revealed in all its glory. High ceilings, sweeping sash windows, and a magnificent tiled fireplace crowned with a heavy oak mantel are the focal points of the room. Dark wood paneling and the rich jewel tones of the dusty, soft furnishings lend to the ambiance of an old-world gentleman’s club, as do the scents of mothballs and wood smoke.
Max and Makayla disengage from an intimate clinch in the corner, and I stifle a groan. Seriously? Even after two years they can’t seem to get enough of each other. Usually I don’t even notice, but today my heart squeezes in longing and I breathe out an exasperated sigh. “Get a room.”
“We did.” Makayla grins, and then her smile fades. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” After over twenty years of friendship, Makayla can read almost every nuance of my expression. Unfortunately, tact isn’t one of her defining traits.
“It’s pretty bad, isn’t it,” Max says, oblivious to my emotional disquiet. “Everything is falling apart. The study behind us is even worse.”