“She’s usually so very calm, but that music is a big part of her day before she naps,” the nurse whispered as she ushered them out of the room. “Where will you find another record?”
“I’ll put my best people on it. They’ll have one here for you. I promise.”
Jessica was shaking now as she stood in the hallway, wringing her hands nervously.
“Are you all right?”
“How did you do that?” she asked as though he’d just flown through the air without wings.
“My mother had a copy of the record. I remembered her playing it. I called and asked her to play it as loud as she could.”
“Then hung up on her?” Jessica asked, pointing down at his phone.
“Oh yeah. I’ll call her back. She’ll understand.”
“And you’re sure you can get another record? I mean what if—?”
“I’ll get it.”
“I’m glad you were here,” she finally edged out as they made their way back to the front entrance of the facility.
“No problem. Libby is important to James, and James is important to me. Can I drop you off at your car?”
“Are we just going to leave all this stuff unsaid?”
“Actions speak louder than words, and your actions yesterday were screaming. I don’t think we have anything else to say.”
She leaned over and kissed him full on the lips, shutting him up instantly. “I told you there were a lot of layers to me,” she replied, her lips just an inch from his as she spoke. “Don’t stop peeling them away yet. Pick me up for the charity event this week. I want to go.”
Chapter 7
“You’re the kind of woman a smart man stays away from,” Mathew whispered into Jessica’s ear as they danced around the floor. It was all kind of heady, Jessica thought as she breathed in his cologne and clutched his bicep.
“Aren’t you a smart man?” she asked, blinking expectantly up at him.
“I used to be,” he sighed in feigned frustration. “I used to see a woman like you and decide you weren’t worth the drama. I hate drama.”
“There is a difference between being complex and dramatic. I don’t do things for the sake of attention. I don’t start arguments, but you can’t blame me for finishing them. You might not like my style, but I care about people.”
“I’ve seen what you do when someone crosses a friend of yours, or hell, a complete stranger for that matter. I’d hate to see what happens when someone screws you over.”
“We all have histories, Mathew. Sometimes it might feel like my reaction is personal, but it’s more just how I’ve learned to cope. I’ve made decisions about my life because of things that have happened, and if I’m being honest, you’re making me question some of them. I hate that.”
“So you aren’t as tough as you look?” he asked, slipping his hand up between her hair and neck, running his thumb up and down the smooth skin.
“You’d be surprised. I’m not quite as ferocious on my own behalf. I know my job seems trivial to a guy like you, but it’s a hard business. Competitive and cutthroat. My reputation means everything to me. I have to fight for most jobs I get and the pay sucks. But I’m doing what I love. When you take someone who sits in your chair and sees nothing but their flaws, and you can help transform what they see and how they feel, it’s an amazing experience.”
“I’ve never thought of it that way,” Mathew said, staring down at her and seeming to see her with new eyes. “Maybe that’s what we need to do more of, see things differently. See each other differently.”
The idea sounded perfect to her. Maybe they’d judged each other too harshly. As he pulled her in tighter, her chin fell to his shoulder, and she glanced around the large ballroom. Then lightning struck her eyes as an old familiar face came into focus.
“Oh my God,” Jessica gasped and covered her heart with her hand, desperate to shield it. “Why is he here? What the hell is he doing here?”
“Who?” Mathew asked, turning his head and crouching some to try to follow her gaze out into the crowd.
“No, no, no,” Jessica stuttered, taking two steps back from Mathew’s arms.
“What’s the matter?” Mathew asked, planting his hands on her shoulders and holding her in place. “Who’s here?”
“Jessica?” a familiar French accent asked with a voice as smooth and sweet as taffy.
“Pierre,” Jessica whispered, a shiver rolling up her back and catching in Mathew’s strong hands still perched upon her shoulders.
“It’s been so long,” Pierre sang, grabbing both her wrists and kissing each of her cheeks in that wonderfully European way. He hadn’t changed. Not enough anyway. Not so much that Jessica could ignore the tidal wave of emotions that swept in with the piercing blue of his eyes. His hair had begun to gray at the temples, but damn him if it didn’t make him more attractive. Pierre’s face was still flawlessly symmetrical, balanced in its perfection. But that wasn’t what had drawn Jessica to him all those years ago.
“You look like magic,” he said, eyeing her so many times from top to bottom it seemed like his head might pop off. “It has been so long, but you are exactly how I remember you. And I remember you so often.” His heavy French accent made everything sound truer than it was. She certainly didn’t look like she had when they’d known each other. She’d spent plenty of time and money making sure of that. Her hair wasn’t long and brown anymore, now cut bluntly at her chin and jet black. She didn’t dress in those flimsy sundresses or wear those strappy little shoes he loved. Jessica had retired that look when she and Pierre were over.
“What are you doing here?” was the best Jessica could muster as the man’s familiar scent clouded around her. Nearly every exciting memory of her life, the truly exhilarating ones, were built around that scent.
“I’m doing a movie in the city,” he announced, tossing his shoulders back with a prideful thrust. “The actress, she supports this charity, and begged me to come.”
“I hadn’t heard,” Jessica replied, still shaking, still feeling Mathew’s hands knowingly trying to support her. The fact that Pierre was in town and she hadn’t known was a true oversight. She’d made it a point to follow his career and make sure moments like this never happened. But she’d been distracted by Libby’s happiness and the life-changing moments unfolding around her.
“And who is this?” Pierre asked, gesturing toward Mathew as though he were somehow in the way. An obstacle to jump over.
“Mathew,” Jessica said, raising a hand and resting it on top of his on her shoulder. “My fiancé.”
“Oh,” Pierre said, faltering for just a second as though he’d been socked in the gut. “No ring?” he asked flatly.
“A woman like Jessica . . .” Mathew started, pulling her in tighter to his body. “You don’t just buy a diamond at the closest jewelry store. This hand,” he said, pulling it up to his lips and kissing it, “needs something as unique as her smile, as big as her heart, as colorful as her spirit. I’ll search every corner of the world until I find just the right ring. Because once it’s on her hand, it’s never coming off.”