Kelly Jamieson - Sweet Deal

Maybe she needed to work out a little more. She did run, but only a few miles, and if she squeezed it in two or three times a week, she was doing well. As they sat in the sun drinking bottles of water, she flexed one bare arm to view her biceps. Then she looked up and caught Jake’s amused eyes on her.

“I should lift some weights,” she said.

He leaned over and kissed her mouth. “You look perfect the way you are, little girl.”

“It’s not about looks,” she objected. “It’s about being strong. And healthy. Right?”

“True.” He touched his finger to the tip of her nose. “Come to the gym with me, then. I’ll get you started.”

“Well. Maybe some time.” It might be better to start off somewhere else, in a gym full of strangers.

They returned her bike to the rental kiosk a while later, locked Jake’s up on the rack attached to his SUV and went back to his place where he’d promised to cook her dinner.

“I like to cook,” he told her.

Another surprise.

“I kind of had to learn when I was a kid. My dad was pretty useless in the kitchen, so after my mom left, I had to figure things out or we would’ve starved.”

Her heart tightened at being reminded of his mother’s abandonment. How could she have done that to him? She knew his mom was dead, but even so, a spear of dislike shafted through her at someone who would do something like that to fourteen-year-old Jake.

Her first visit to his home stopped her in her tracks. She walked into the modern new building, expecting something sleek and masculine, and indeed, his place was masculine and she supposed sleek might be one word. Chaotic might be another.

He kept his bike in his condo, leaning against a wall, along with a whole lot of other sports and exercise equipment including a weight machine. “For the days I can’t get to the gym,” he explained.

A huge dog came running at them, and she all but leaped into Jake’s arms. “Down, Wayne,” Jake ordered the giant beast. The dog sat, mouth open to reveal large teeth and a huge tongue.

Shelby watched him warily, clutching Jake. “Does he bite?”

Jake laughed. “No. Of course not.” He extricated himself from Shelby’s grip and rubbed the dog’s head. “This is Wayne.”

“Wayne?”

“I named him after the greatest hockey player of all time. Wayne Gretzky.”

Shelby bit her lip on a smile. “I see.”

“Gimme five.” Jake extended a hand and the dog laid a big paw on his palm. “Good boy.” He looked at her, still nearly hiding behind him. “Are you afraid of dogs?”

“Um…no. Well, maybe a little. I like small dogs.” She eyed Wayne. “He’s pretty big.”

“But he’s very gentle. C’mere and meet him.” He pulled Shelby forward and he lifted her hand and brought it close to Wayne’s face, palm up, for him to sniff. The dog carefully sniffed, gave her hand a small lick, and looked up at her, head tilted to one side.

“Hi, Wayne,” she said tentatively. She looked at Jake. “Can I pat him?”

“Sure.”

She gave the dog’s head a rub, surprised by the silky softness of his fur. He was kind of cute. She straightened and looked around.

Surveying his living room, she managed to locate a black leather couch amid sports equipment, computer equipment, DVDs, CDs, books and magazines on an impressive variety of topics—running, cycling, men’s health, business and news—scattered everywhere. That she expected. And the big screen television. She held her bottom lip between her teeth as she walked around and took it all in. She picked up a running magazine and noted the date—a year old!

Jake stood there also surveying his place. “It’s kind of messy, isn’t it?”

“Um…” Her smile broke free. “Kind of? It’s a freaking disaster!”

“It’s not that bad.”

Well, it was reasonably clean. The kitchen was clean anyway, counters spotless, stainless steel appliances gleaming. There were no dust bunnies lurking in corners that she could see.

“I have a cleaning lady,” he said. “So it can’t be that bad.”

She pressed her lips together to again stop from laughing, and nodded. The urge to organize, tidy and throw away a ton of junk made her itch and twitch.

“And I don’t like things too neat,” he added. “It stifles creativity.”

Now she did laugh out loud, but he grinned too. The state of his condo took her by surprise—he was always perfectly groomed and dressed impeccably, and somehow she’d expected where he lived to be the same.

“Have a seat,” he said, nodding to stools at the granite counter. “We can have a glass of wine while I cook.”

“I can help.” As long as it was simple. Cooking wasn’t her thing, unless it was cookies.

“We’ll see.” And he started pulling food out of the refrigerator, pulling pans down from the rack above the counter, expensive-looking gourmet cookware. Wow.

He was a multi-faceted guy, that’s for sure, and as she watched him, her heart tilted dangerously.

As he cooked and then as they ate, they talked more about his Iron Man goal.

“When did you decide to do this?” Shelby asked, spearing a pillowy ravioli coated in tomato sauce. “Or have you always wanted to?”

Jake’s face tightened a little and he looked down at his own plate. “I got the idea about a year ago,” he said. “I needed something to fill my time beside work. I wasn’t feeling all that satisfied with my job, and I wasn’t going to be starting my own business. I actually started going out a lot—hanging out in bars, partying all night. That didn’t seem very healthy, so I decided to take up something that would be good for me. I’ve always liked swimming—I was on the swim team in high school and college. But the triathlon appealed to me because it was a challenge.”

She nodded. “Do you want to win?”

He laughed. “No! This year will be my first time. I’ve done smaller competitions, but not an Iron Man. My goal is to finish and live to tell about it.”

She grimaced. “That doesn’t sound like fun to me.”

His eyes crinkled as he smiled back at her. “Yeah, sometimes that’s just how I feel. When I’m in agony I ask myself, why am I doing this again?”

“I have to admire your determination, though.”

“Thanks.”

After dinner they moved into his living room and he cleared magazines and newspapers off the couch so they could sit. “Sorry about the mess,” he muttered. “I kind of don’t notice it so much when I’m here alone.”

His apology touched something inside her. “No worries. I can live with a little clutter. Well. Not for long. It might drive me crazy after a while.”

He slid one arm around her and tipped up her chin. “I’ll clean up before you come next time.”

Next time. Her heart missed a beat as she gazed into his eyes. That made it sound so…real.

Jake’s office phone warbled and he absently grabbed for it Tuesday afternoon, not taking his eyes off his computer screen.

“Jake Magill,” he barked into the phone, then regretted the sharp tone. Drew had already accused him of being a grouchy sonofabitch earlier that day. And yeah, he was feeling irritable and ornery. Because he’d wanted so much to see Shelby last night but hadn’t let himself give in and call her. Why he was denying himself, he had no fucking idea. Oh yeah, he did. Because Sunday night at his condo he’d had the weirdest thought that he didn’t want her to ever leave, and that was just not acceptable. It irritated him.

“Hi, Jake. It’s me.”

The voice startled him bolt upright in his chair.

“Gianna.”

Jake thought his heart might have stopped, then started again with painful thuds in his chest. He actually laid a hand over his dress shirt and tie.

“You’re probably surprised to hear from me,” she said, sounding hesitant and quiet.

“Uh…yeah. You could say that.” He stared across his office, not really seeing anything, mind racing. What the hell?

“I wanted to call you ever since I saw you at that Gold Shield picnic.”

Jesus Christ! The thoughts flying around in his head picked up speed. “Oh.” Brilliant answer, genius. “Why?”

Stupid question. Shit.

“I don’t know.” A soft sigh sounded over the phone line. “I just…after I saw you, I realized how much I miss you.”

He gave his head a sharp shake, not sure if he’d heard right. “Gianna. You’re married.”

“I know.” The high pitch of her voice told him she was nervous and near tears. Christ, what was going on? “But I’m…I think I…oh dammit.” A few beats of silence. “Maybe we could get together…for a drink or something…and talk.”

“Gianna. Jesus. What’s going on?”

He felt as if a giant fist had just been driven into his gut, all the air knocked out of him. He could hardly draw a breath. This was fucking insane.

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I’m confused. I miss you and I want to talk to you.”

Jake covered his eyes with one hand and slumped back in his chair. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please, Jake. I know you were hurt by what happened…”

Jesus, there she went with the pity again. Was that what this was all about? “It was a long time ago,” he said.

“I know, I know. You probably can’t forgive me, but I realize now what a mistake I made.”

“It was over a year ago!”

Disbelief had his own voice rising and he fought back the emotions churning inside him.

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry. You have no idea…”

“What about Andrew?”

She didn’t answer.

He’d waited so long for this day. Actually, he’d given up hope this day would ever really come, had come to terms with the fact that Gianna and Andrew were together, although for a long time after the break-up he’d had dreams about it almost every night. And now it was really happening. She wanted him back. Unfuckingbelievable.