This Crazy Little Thing (A New Adult Billionaire Romance) (11 page)

One of his hands reached to the top of her head and gathered a fist full of her hair and tugged slightly, urging her to tip her head to one side. He trailed kisses and licks and nibbles down her neck until her entire upper body was blanketed in gooseflesh and her legs were so wobbly and weak she was forced to cling to him in order to remain standing.

The little voice in her head—the one that was growing more distant by the second—made one final appeal before declaring defeat.
You can’t do this. It’s not fair to Monica or Jason!

It was no small feat to speak whilst Jason performed magic with her body, but she managed to whisper, “Stop, please.”

Jason paused for a moment, his gaze searching her face. “Are you still playing?”

“No.”

“What’s wrong?”

“As much as I want to, we can’t do this right now.”

“Why? Is it that time of the month? I mean, I completely understand if—”

“Yes!” she said a little too enthusiastically. She sobered her voice as she explained. “I mean, I’m very sorry but I’m having terrible cramps this month. You don’t mind waiting, do you? We could…talk for a while longer if you like.”

“No, that’s okay. I should probably get going.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “I’m catching an early flight tomorrow morning.”

A chill crept over her arms and shoulders. “You’re leaving?”

“For a few days. Will you miss me?”

A deep ache settled in her belly at the thought of not seeing him. Maybe it had been only a short time, but to her it felt as if she’d always known him, as if he’d always been there. She knew there would be a huge empty void with him gone, no matter how long or short it was. “Yes, I will,” she answered honestly.

“I’ll miss you too. But it’s business. I’ll be back Tuesday. I’ll bring you a surprise.”

She took a second to wonder what kind of surprise a man like Jason would bring from a business trip. She guessed it would be better than an uneaten package of airline peanuts. That had been the one and only gift she’d ever received from a boyfriend before. And she’d thought it had been quite thoughtful. After all, it had been a meal-less flight and five hours long. The poor guy had gone hungry all that time for her.

“That sounds very nice, but unnecessary,” she said, slumping onto the couch and  reaching for the throw slung over the arm. She wrapped it around her shoulders.

“I want to.” He
sat next to her, leaned forward and, hot again, she threw off the throw and braced herself for another one of those soul-searing kisses. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending upon how she looked at it, all he gave her was a slightly longer-than-normal peck on the cheek. “I can’t wait to see your face when you open it.”

“You’re very sweet.” She rested her palm against his jaw and tried to burn the expression she saw in his eyes into her memory forever. If she did eventually return to her old life as
Jane Brown, she wanted to remember how it felt to see that look on a man’s face—of genuine, undisguised love—for the rest of her life. It might be the only time she’d ever see it.

“I’ll call you Monday night,” he said, standing.

She forced herself to her feet and leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his middle and pressing her ear against his chest. His heartbeat was a soft, steady thump in her ear. The sting of tears burned her eyes.

It was only going to be a few days. She couldn’t really understand why she was getting so emotional. It wasn’t like she’d never see him again…unless…

Trying hard not to look like a clingy, whimpering whiner, she followed him to the front door, gave him a breathy “good-bye and thanks” and watched him get into his car and drive away.

And then she went to bed.

Sunday dragged by as she sat by the phone waiting for his call. By eleven Sunday night she gave up, assuming he wouldn’t be able to call her until Monday like he’d promised. Monday, she went to work and she and Monica worked together on their projects. They swapped what-I-did-over-the-weekend stories. A little guilty, Jane intentionally left out Saturday night’s date. For some reason, it just felt wrong telling Monica about the date, kind of like she was cheating or something. However, she did mention that Jason was keeping in contact and left it at that.

She wasn’t exactly sure how she’d proceed. Falling in love, marrying, having Jason’s children. That sounded like heaven. The perfect life. If it meant living out the rest of her life as Monica, then she was willing to make the sacrifice. She wondered if Monica would ever forgive her.

Monday night, after a short phone conversation with a jet-lagged Jason, she tossed and turned, restless. Her face and hands itched which didn’t help. Desperate for some sleep, she smoothed on some calamine lotion and returned to bed. But like when she was sick, what dreams she had as she drifted in and out of a shallow slumber were strange, vivid and lifelike. Sometime after three in the morning, she peered at the clock one last time before falling into a deeper sleep.

Tuesday morning, she woke to the sound of morning rush hour barreling down the nearby freeway. At least the burning itch was gone.

“Damn it!” she yelled before she’d even opened her eyes. No doubt about it, she was back home—in Jane Brown’s apartment. The loud traffic and scratchy Army blanket had been dead giveaways long before she’d bothered to look.

Everything else was probably back to normal too.

Ready to confirm her suspicions, she threw off the covers and glanced down at her chest.

Back to barely-there double As, thighs that were a tad too meaty to be considered sexy, and a tummy that was a little soft and lumpy to be seen in the light of day. Ultra-white from lack of sunlight, it reminded her of a slightly molten marshmallow. “Hello there,” she said to her less desirable parts, not exactly clear how she felt about being back to her old self and old life.

There were reasons to celebrate—like her lighter workload and hopefully solid financial status, assuming Monica hadn’t maxed out all her credit cards and buried her under a heap of debt already.

But then there was also the obvious drawback, and it was a biggie—a whopper.

Jason.

Not in a hurry to get to work, for the first time since she’d started there, she took her time dressing, checking out the new clothes Monica had stocked her closet with, and fighting to style her new haircut after an extra-long, extra-hot shower.

Thanks to the switch, she figured she’d be facing an exuberant Monica at work this morning. Although Monica had stopped complaining about Jane’s less-than-glamorous home and lifestyle, she knew Monica had to be relieved to have her beautiful home and boyfriend back.

Of course, that meant
Jane had a little explaining to do, even more reason to drag her feet.

Resisting the urge to call in sick,
Jane finally forced herself out the front door. Her new car wasn’t a Lexus, or a Honda, but it rode reasonably well and it had a certain sex appeal. The heater worked great too, blasting toasty air after the car had been running only a few minutes. Nothing rattled or clanked when she went over the speed bumps in her apartment complex. That was a bonus.

When she got to work and settled into her cubicle, she missed the spacious office a little bit, but not too much. Thankful for the fact that Monica hadn’t come gleefully screaming the minute
Jane had arrived, she set to work immediately. Evidently, Monica had some more important matters to attend to.

But there was one small drawback—she sure missed their morning brainstorming sessions, having Monica to toss ideas back and forth with. Over the past week, they’d become quite a team and she’d produced some of the best work of her career. Everyone, including herself, had been impressed. Would she be able to continue without Monica forcing her to really exercise her mind and come up with original and exciting layouts?

Resolved to do her best, she set to work on her first project, a coupon advertisement for a pet store, but right away she found her mind wandering.

Where was Jason? What would he say when he called tonight? She missed him so much even her teeth ached. Her innards felt hollow yet heavy at the same time.

Then another thought occurred to her. Monica would be the one to welcome him home with a hug and a kiss, not her. That thought did nothing to lighten her gloomy mood.

Shit! She had no right to be jealous but she was anyway. Even though she’d assumed someday she’d return to her life, a part of her had hoped… Oh, there was no use dwelling on the impossible.

Monica’s life was Monica’s again…and so was Jason.

“Hey, we need to talk,” Monica whispered from behind her, reminding her of where she was.

“Maybe later. I’m pretty busy right now.” She moved the mouse around and pretended to be hard at work, knowing full well Monica could see her screen was blank.

“It might be just me, but I’ve found it’s easier to use the software when it’s running,” Monica teased. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you happy to be back to your life? After all the crummy things you said about mine, I figured you’d be dancing in with bells on.”

“Sure, I’m very happy.” Even to herself, her voice sounded dead flat. She decided to look busy for real and at least get her design software loaded. It took a few minutes for it to open.

“You could at least say thanks for all the hard work I’ve done with your hair, makeup and clothes,” Monica said, sounding hurt. “It wasn’t easy losing those five pounds, you know. I swear your body is addicted to sugar. I had to throw away practically everything in your cupboards to keep from bingeing.”

Funny, she’d completely forgotten to eat this morning.

“Thanks,”
Jane said. “That was very kind of you, making such a painful sacrifice.” She turned to glance over her shoulder. Monica’s face was swollen, red and covered with terrible-looking oozing blisters. “My God! What happened to your face?”

“Doctor said it’s a delayed reaction to poison ivy. You wouldn’t happen to know where I came into contact with that, would you?” Monica dragged a spare chair up and positioned herself in it, crossing her long legs and swinging a designer shoe-clad foot. “He said it’s going to take a couple of weeks for the itching and swelling to go away.”

At the moment, Jane couldn’t think of a time in her life where she’d been more regretful. “I’m so sorry. I went hiking in the woods this past weekend. It was dark and I couldn’t see… Gosh, I can’t believe you came to work like this.”

“Yeah. Brings to mind the Elephant Man, doesn’t it?” Monica raised a hand to her grotesquely swollen cheek. “But what else could I do? I can’t afford to miss two whole weeks. You know what my finances look like. By the way, thanks for doing such a nifty job with my checkbook.”

Jane slipped her feet out of her pinching shoes. She sure missed those Manolo Blahniks! “No problem.”

“Seriously, no one’s ever bothered to teach me how to balance my checkbook. I appreciate it. It felt wonderful looking at my caller ID this morning and not seeing a single ‘private call’ or collection agency. I can’t tell you when that’s happened last.”

“It wasn’t such a big deal.”

“Maybe not for you.”

The software finally up and running, Jane opened a new document and stared at the blank white screen. “You’re welcome. I’m truly sorry about the poison ivy.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get over it. Say, I wanted to ask you a couple of things.”

Oh no. She had a sneaking suspicion she wasn’t going to like the questions Monica was about to ask. For one thing, Monica was being mighty understanding about her hideously disfigured face. Was revenge on her agenda? “Oh?”

“First, would you like to continue to meet every morning to brainstorm our projects like we have been? I really enjoyed that.”

So far, so good. “Sure. I enjoyed it too.”

“Excellent!” Monica crossed her arms over her chest. “Second, I was wondering…what’s Jason calling and leaving messages on my answering machine about surprises and last Saturday’s date all about?”

Uh-oh! “He did?” She tried to look surprised.

“Yeah, he did.” Monica did not sound so thrilled, not that
Jane could blame her. Jane could imagine the assumptions she would make if the roles were reversed and she’d returned to find her ex-boyfriend leaving friendly messages on her answering machine if last she recalled they hadn’t been speaking.

Here goes! “Well, I thought you’d be happy…”

Monica leaned closer. The blazes igniting in her eyes weren’t reassuring. “What did you do?”

“I honestly felt I was doing you a favor. I mean, you said you wanted him back, wanted to marry him someday. It started the night he had the car repossessed. I went there to give him a piece of my mind and we started talking…and then we bumped into each other at a nightclub…and next thing I knew it he was asking me—I mean you!—out on a date.”

“Just tell me, did you—I mean, I—sleep with him?”

“No. I swear, I would never do that to you.”

Visibly deep in thought, Monica leaned back and blinked several times. Her left eyelid kind of hung there at half-mast, thanks to the swelling. She nodded. “So what happened?”

“He said he was falling in love with you all over again,”
Jane answered, hoping that might cast a rosy-colored light on the situation.

It worked. A hint of a smile bloomed over Monica’s disfigured face. “He did? What else did he say?”

“He said you’ve changed.”

Monica scowled. “How have I changed? What did you say to him?”

“Well…I told him I wanted to get married and have kids. I didn’t know you’d told him you didn’t want those things until after I said it,” Jane lied.

“Shit. What else?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I can’t remember all the details. Oh…um…I ate some red meat.” She cringed.

“You didn’t!”

“And ice cream. But you have to believe me. Nothing happened with Jason. Our first date was spent in the hospital emergency room, thanks to your allergy to bees, and so all we could do was talk—”

“I was stung? Where?”

“Yeah. On your head. But as you can see, you’re fine now. Well, sorta fine. The poison ivy was from your second date. We…er, you…went to the cider mill and a bonfire. Jason seems to be coming round. He brought flowers and said the nicest things.”

“He’s so sweet, isn’t he?” Monica sighed. “I’m just worried that he isn’t in love with me. It sounds like he’s in love with
you
.”

Hearing those words made
Jane’s heart skip more than a beat or two. She attributed her reaction to several things. “No way. He loves you. He’s a guy. He believes what he sees. How could he love someone like me? We look very different.” Jane knew darn well who she was trying to convince and it wasn’t Monica.

“In case you haven’t noticed—and I believe you have—he’s a little deeper thinking than your typical shallow-minded guy.”

I know. He’s perfect.
“Still, I’m plain. You’re…stunning. I saw the way he looked at you. There was something—a glimmer—in his eyes, like in the movies. It was very romantic.”

“Sounds like you’ve fallen in love with him too.”

“No. Absolutely not.” Jane said with far more conviction than she felt.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“He’s a cutie. I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Nope. Through the whole thing I reminded myself he’s your boyfriend, not mine. Like I said, look at me. I don’t compare.”

“Hey, with the new clothes and hair, I’d call you a babe.”

“You’re being kind.”

“I might even be a little jealous of you. I didn’t tell you this but I went to one of my favorite hot spots last weekend and a guy I’ve seen around here and there—a guy who’d never give me the time of day—flirted with you!”

“He didn’t. You’re lying.”

“I have his phone number to prove it.” Monica motioned toward
Jane’s purse. “May I?”

“Sure.”
Jane handed it to her and watched as Monica rummaged through the contents.

“Aha! Here you go.” Looking quite pleased with herself, Monica produced a business card with a smudgy phone number scribbled on the back. She looked down at it, her fingertips toying with the edges. Her expression was a little forlorn. “His name is Bill and he’s an absolute babe. We talked all night long.” With a smile that looked forced, she handed the card to
Jane. “But this belongs to you now.”

Jane
shook her head. “No thanks.”

“Seriously, take it. He’s very sexy. And who would’ve thought a man who works with his hands could be loaded? He drove a Beemer.”

“Business must be good.”

“Real good.” Monica tried to hand
Jane the card again. “Even if you don’t want to date him, he’s an electrician. You never know when one of those might come in handy.”

“I live in an apartment.”

“So?”

“You’re the one who has a house.”

“That doesn’t matter. You have electricity too.”

Jane
shook her head. “Never mind. Guess you’ve never been a renter before.”

“I’ve never dated a man who works with his hands before—unless you count the banker. I have to admit, dating a working man holds a certain appeal.”

Like she could take the card now! Not! “You keep it. Maybe if things don’t work out with Jason you could—”

“No. I mentioned myself and he said he knew me, thought I was too high-maintenance.” Monica giggled. “Can you just imagine?” She wound a lock of hair around her index finger.

“Nope.”

“Me? High-maintenance.”

“Never.”

Monica drew the card closer, obviously preparing to tuck it away somewhere safe, a pocket or in her bra maybe. “Are you sure you won’t take it?”

“Positive.”

“Okay,” Monica said on a sigh. “You can’t say I didn’t offer.”

Jane merely nodded. This was weird. She didn’t have a claim on Jason, who thought she was Monica. She didn’t have a claim on Bill either, who thought she was Jane, but the Jane Monica had been, who couldn’t be anything like the Jane she was now…