Janet Evanovich - The Grand Finale

Jake whispered in Berry’s ear. “See, even Mrs. Giovanni thinks I should take care of you.”

“I don’t need taking care of.”

“Of course you do.”

“Not the way you mean.”

“Especially the way I mean.”

Berry narrowed her eyes and put her fists on her hips. “I guess I know what I need and what I don’t need. And I don’t need what you think I need. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“I suppose you are-but it would be much more fun if we did it together.”

“I didn’t mean… you know perfectly well… oh, jeez.”

Jake handed her the bag of trash. “Here, this isn’t heavy. It’s scraps of wallpaper I scraped off the bedroom wall. You could take it downstairs for me. It’ll give you a chance to cool off.” He winked at Mrs. Giovanni. “Just being around me gets her all overheated.”

Berry took the bag and smacked Jake over the head with it.

Mrs. Fitz stood in the doorway of the Pizza Place and clicked her tongue at Berry. “You look like someone just stepped on your corns.”

“It’s that Jake Sawyer.”

“Isn’t he something? Um-hmmm.”

“The man has one thing on his mind.”

“You?”

“S-e-x.”

Mrs. Fitz looked at Berry. “Don’t underestimate him.”

Berry raised her eyebrows in question.

“He’s in love with you,” Mrs. Fitz said.

“We hardly know each other.”

“Sometimes your heart knows stuff your head hasn’t figured out yet.”

“He’s never told me.”

“Maybe he don’t know. Maybe he knows, but he’s afraid, like you.”

Berry squared her shoulders. “I’m not afraid.”

“Don’t tell fibs.”

“It’s just that I have this plan.”

“Bullshoot.”

“Mrs. Fitz! Such language.”

Mrs. Fitz laughed and slapped her thigh. “I know it. Aren’t I the ornery old lady, cussing like that?” She shook her head and returned to the caldron of pizza sauce bubbling on the stove. “You gotta be flexible, Lingonberry. Sometimes plans gotta change or you lose good opportunities. Isn’t every day a man like Jake Sawyer comes along. That man is fine.”

Miss Gaspich kneaded a huge wad of dough on the butcher-block table. A small smile hovered at her mouth. Her eyes twinkled. “And he’s got a great butt,” she added quietly.

It was close to eleven o’clock and Berry’s street was dark. With the exception of the bar on the next block, this was an early-to-bed, early-to-rise neighborhood. Berry summoned her last ounce of strength and dragged herself out of the car. She glanced into the window of the Pizza Place, noticing that it was empty, except for Jake. Thank goodness. She didn’t have the energy to be nice to any more customers. She pushed through the heavy glass door, tossed the money bag onto the counter, and slumped into a chair. “Another day, another dollar.”

Jake gaped at her. “You look awful!”

Berry pointed to her wet ringlets and water-splattered shirt. “Water balloon.” She raised her leg to display torn jeans. “Dog.”

“Does this happen every night?”

“Some nights are worse than others. Where are the ladies?”

“I sent them home in a cab. They looked all done in.” He took her hands and pulled her to her feet. “You look even doner. Let’s go home.”

“I have to clean the ovens, the floor-”

Jake pointed vehemently. “To the car, woman!”

Berry was too tired to argue. She followed Jake to the car and sat beside him, remembering the way he’d said, Let’s go home, as if it really was her home, too. Wouldn’t that be nice, she thought, succumbing to the hypnotic drone of the engine. Imagine if that lovely Victorian house could actually be my home. It’s nice to see Mrs. Giovanni’s geraniums, but Jake’s house has trees and a real lawn. She closed her eyes and imagined what it would be like to be barefoot on that lawn. No responsibilities, no plan to follow… just bare toes and soft grass.

When Berry opened her eyes she was in the garage.

“Come on, sleepyhead,” Jake said. “We’re home.”

Berry looked at him drowsily. There was that word again. When Jake Sawyer said home, it took on spiritual proportions. Home was an ark: a refuge against flood, pestilence, and rude drivers; a haven for the harried; a cure for the sexually deprived.

Berry followed Jake into the kitchen and wondered what it was that made this house so homey. It was empty of furniture. Voices echoed in rooms not yet softened by curtains or carpets. By all standards the old building should have felt inhospitable. But it didn’t-it felt like a home. Berry could practically smell butterscotch pudding cooling on the counter.

Suddenly the ghosts of crushed dreams tugged at her heart. Dreams of towheaded children getting tucked into bed at night, dreams of a husband who nuzzled her neck in the kitchen and told her important things, like I took the car to get a new muffler today. She’d entered into marriage anticipating a family, fantasizing about a big old house that would be filled with noisy love and security taken for granted. What a dope she’d been to look for domestic bliss in a marriage to Allen. It had never really been a marriage at all. It had been a living arrangement. She’d expected so much, and she’d left with so little.

She chewed on her lower lip. No, that wasn’t entirely honest. The dissolution of her marriage wasn’t a totally barren experience. She’d walked out on her emotionally shallow husband with renewed self-esteem and a hard-won sense of purpose. Somehow, an individual had emerged from the muddle of matrimony. She was proud of that.

“Looks like some heavy thinking going on behind those pretty blue eyes,” Jake said.

Berry struggled for something to say. “This house feels like it should be filled with children.”

“I agree. It’s going to be perfect for a pack of kids and a couple floppy-eared dogs.”

Berry stared at him in confusion. He didn’t have kids, and he didn’t have a dog. What was he telling her? Had he bought the house for someone else? An investment? Was he only living here temporarily? Lord, did he have a pregnant girlfriend in Spokane?

Jake leaned against the counter. “I have a plan.”

“What sort of plan?”

“When was the last time you ate?”

Berry blinked at the change in the conversation. “I don’t remember when I ate last.”

“Did you have supper?”

Berry’d had a candy bar for supper. She’d intended to have a sandwich, but somehow she’d never gotten to it. “What’s this got to do with your plan?”

“Nothing. Everything.” Jake opened the refrigerator door. “There’s not much food in here.”

“So, I’m not the only one who forgets to eat.”

“I’ve been eating out. Mostly at my sister’s house. She’s only a few miles from here.” He put a half gallon of milk on the counter and found a box of raisin bran in the overhead cupboard. “I’ve only got breakfast food.” He located a spoon and poured her a bowl of cereal.

Berry aimlessly pushed the raisins around with her spoon. “I’m not sure I have the energy to eat this.”

Without saying a word, Jake poured some milk into the blender. He added an egg and searched through a small box sitting on the counter, finally extracting two bottles. “A little vanilla, a dash of nutmeg,” he told Berry. He whipped the mixture and poured it into a large glass. “Here. You don’t have to chew this.”

“It has a raw egg in it.”

“Eggnog usually does.”

“Hmmm.” Berry cautiously sipped at it and licked a milk mustache off with the tip of her tongue. He had a plan. Swell. Another plan. The world needed one more plan.

Jake took the empty glass and put it in the dishwasher. He slung an arm around Berry and eased her toward the stairs. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Don’t I sleep on the couch?”

“I had beds delivered today. The ladies all have their own rooms.”

“And?”

“And you sleep in my room.” He opened the door to his bedroom and motioned her in with a Sir Walter Raleigh flourish.

“Oh, no,” she groaned, “not tonight, Jake. I’m too tired.”

Jake grinned at her as he turned down the bed linens. “No. Not tonight. When I share a bed with you for the first time I want you wide awake and panting.”

Berry stood blank-faced in front of him, too tired to formulate a retort, her mind focusing on the fact that he’d said when I share a bed with you, not if. Was it that inevitable?

He draped the royal-blue silk pajama top across her shoulders, kissed her on her forehead, and left, closing the door behind him.

Berry surfaced through the drowse of sleep, stretching her legs, then her arms. She was in the biggest, most comfortable bed she’d ever slept in. “Yum,” she sighed, rolling onto her back, feeling the delicious silk pajama top slide over her breasts. This was a lovely way to awaken, she decided. Slowly and luxuriously. If only she didn’t have this peculiar feeling of being watched. The feeling crept along her neck and tingled in her scalp. She cautiously opened one eye.

“Morning.” Jake grinned down at her.

Berry pulled the covers up to her neck. “What are you doing in here?”

“I need some clothes. Want to take a shower?”

Berry looked at him suspiciously. He had a towel slung over his shoulder. “Aren’t you going to take a shower now?”

“Yup. But I’m a good guy. I’d be willing to share it with you.”

“What a pal.”

“I can do wonderful things with soapsuds.”

“I don’t think I want to hear this.”

Jake sat on the edge of the bed and ran his finger along the blue silk collar. “I like the way you feel under this material. Now I know why they make pajamas out of it. It never felt like this when it was on me.”

Berry liked it, too. It was fun to wake up feeling pampered and feminine for a change.