This Crazy Little Thing (A New Adult Billionaire Romance) (20 page)

Today’s storm had dumped over a foot of snow in most parts of the city and more was expected. Several thousand people were without power.

She wondered how Monica was doing.

More than that, she wondered what Jason was doing.

* * * * *

Jason watched the white van, marked Bill’s Electric, pull out of Monica’s driveway as he turned the corner of her street. Was Monica having electrical problems? Why hadn’t she called him like she usually did?

Out of habit, he eyed the guy driving the van as their vehicles passed. In passing, the guy looked young. He had a smart-assed grin on his face, which made Jason feel uneasy. Had he taken advantage of Monica somehow? Anxious to find out, he pulled into her driveway then shut off the car and took long steps through the deep snow to her front porch. Vowing to clear the front walk and the empty half of the driveway after he made sure she was okay, he rang the doorbell.

She answered the door in her bathrobe. Her hair was a tangled mass of waves, dry but tousled like she’d just gotten out of bed. Her expression quickly changed from glee to surprise. “Oh my gosh! Jason.”

He didn’t miss how her gaze hopped from his face to over his shoulder and he turned and looked back to see if someone or something was behind him. “Hi, Monica. Were you expecting someone else?”

“No…I…uh…the electrician just left. I didn’t have power this morning.
Jane called him for me.”

“
Jane? Is she still here?” he asked, still standing on the porch because Monica hadn’t invited him in yet. He glanced at his watch. It was almost seven.

“No. Why? Are you looking for her? She left a…while ago.” Monica lifted a hand and started chewing on a manicured nail. That was a telltale sign that something was wrong.

“What’s going on here?”

“Nothing.” She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin.

“Then why haven’t you invited me in?”

“Oh!” She pushed open the storm door and stepped aside. “Sorry. I’m just a little slow today. Hangover. You remember last night.”

“Yeah. I came to check on you.” He walked into the living room and feeling like he might find someone there, looked to the left and right. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” The room was empty but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Monica was hiding something.

“That’s very sweet. I’m fine. As you can see.” She tightened the belt on her robe.

“Actually, I can’t.”

Her eyes got huge.

“But I’ll take your word for it,” he added. “So, you say you didn’t have power this morning? What was wrong?” He walked through the living room toward the kitchen.

“Um…something about the main breaker being tripped,” Monica answered, following him.

“That’s all?”

“Yep. Only took the electrician a minute to switch it back on, thank God. It was frigid in here with no heat. He said a surge might have triggered it. He checked everything else and said it looked fine.”

“And that took…what? Ten hours? He must have been very thorough.”

“Yes…he sure was,” she said tensely.

As Jason neared the kitchen, the scents of toasted bread and pickles filled his nostrils. “And you cooked while you were waiting? You never cook for yourself.”

Something was fishy here, and it wasn’t in the fry pan.

“I was hungry?” she suggested with a shrug.

He noted the set of two plates, two glasses and two forks in the sink. Turning, she followed his gaze. “I…had seconds.”

“Corned beef? What are you not telling me, Monica?”

She sighed and ran her fingers through her tangled hair. “I’m eating red meat these days?”

He answered her quip with a scowl.

“Okay.” She sighed. “We need to talk.”

“Let me guess. You slept with the electrician?” he said, summing up his suspicions. He was shocked by how little those words hurt as he spoke them.

“Yes I did.”

He was even more shocked by how little her confession bothered him. It was as if he didn’t care an iota. “I see.”

“But that’s not what we need to talk about.” She pulled out a kitchen chair and sat at the table. She motioned for him to take a seat across from her. “Do you want something to drink first?”

“No. I think I should be sober when I hear this.” He sat and waited for her to speak. He wasn’t overly anxious, in fact, he realized he became more emotional during business transactions than he was at the moment.

“I think we both know by now that the wedding is off,” she said.

“I’m gathering that, although it would’ve been nice if you’d told me before sleeping with someone else.”

Looking guilty, her gaze lowered, she nodded. “I’m very sorry about that. Honest. It was a thoughtless, impulsive thing to do, you’re right.” She bit her lip and pulled at a fraying edge of her placemat. “But in my defense, I wanted to tell you last night. I just didn’t know how to. And you looked so hurt…and we were at a party…I didn’t think it was the right place…and I was sloshed…I’m sorry.” She looked as forlorn as she sounded, and he knew she wasn’t putting on an act for once. “There are so many things you don’t know about me.”

“Like what? We’ve dated for a long time,” he reminded her. “Up until recently I thought I knew you pretty well.”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter now. I want you to go on with your life. I’ve manipulated you long enough.”

“You got away with manipulating me only because I let you,” he admitted. He wasn’t exactly proud of it, but it was the truth. She’d used his sense of pride and stubborn determination to stand by his word to force him into doing things he probably normally wouldn’t have done.

“Maybe. But I feel like a creep. I can’t hold you to a promise that neither of us wants you to keep. I lied. I don’t want to be married, at least not for the reasons I’d told you.”

Her confession didn’t surprise him. Deep in his gut he’d known that all along, but a man of his word, a man who lived by a promise, he couldn’t allow himself to back out. It would’ve gone against everything he believed himself to be.

But now, as she sat before him, offering him the freedom he’d secretly longed for, he felt guilty. Would she be okay? “What’re you going to do? Continue sleeping with the electrician?” he asked, needing to hear some reassurance she wouldn’t be alone, unhappy.

“It doesn’t matter. At least I won’t be hurting you anymore. We don’t work, Jason. You know that. I know that. Why can’t we just accept it and move on? Just because we’ve invested a year in this doesn’t mean we can’t let it go. Love isn’t something a couple thinks about and plans…it’s something they feel—”

“Bull. Love isn’t a feeling. It isn’t some silly, here-today-gone-tomorrow emotion. It’s a commitment to take care of one another and respect each other forever. That’s what’s wrong with people these days. They follow the whims of their hearts, they act on feelings that are prone to change as quickly as the weather.”

“Let yourself be free,” Monica pleaded.

“Free? Of what?”

“Of logic, and should-be’s, and must-do’s.” Monica sighed and met his gaze. “You’re a human being, not a machine. Let yourself act like one. Let yourself feel, believe in the impossible, act on an impulse. It’s the only way you’ll get what you’re looking for out of life.”

“That’s nonsense. A cop-out. Only children or people afraid of responsibility believe you should act without thinking. Where would our world be if everyone acted like that? There would be mass confusion. No order. No law.”

“I have thought about this. A lot, for your information. And I don’t believe for a minute that—”

“Okay. Then tell me, where’s the logic in your decision? Don’t tell me you actually thought about it before you climbed in the sack with your electrician.”

“Yes. Of course I did. I thought about it and decided to follow my heart.”

He laughed. “You thought about it for all of three seconds, I’m sure. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not upset about what you did. If you say we’re over then we’re over. What bothers me is how you’re preaching to me that I need to change when you clearly need to get a handle on your own life. You threw away a relationship for a screw with a stranger.
A year should’ve meant more to you than that,” he said, repeating what he’d been telling himself for hours last night as he lay sleepless in bed, afraid of falling asleep and dreaming about the wrong woman. “I guess it meant more to me than it did to you.”

“No it didn’t. But I’m willing to accept that history is history. It doesn’t have to dictate our future. We must do what’s right for both of us, and for
Jane.”

“
Jane? What does she have to do with this?” He sat mute for a moment, not sure what to say next. Then, an idea took shape. “Is that what this whole switching thing was? Some kind of complicated way to dump me? Because if it was, you sure wasted a lot of time and energy. We were as good as over before all this switching nonsense began.”

She stood and walked to the counter, filling a glass with juice from the pitcher sitting next to the stove. “We weren’t over. You were mad about your grandmother’s stuff but eventually you would’ve gotten over it and we would’ve gotten back together again, like we have so many times before.”

Unable to sit, thanks to the nervous energy pulsing through his body in waves of jittery heat, he stood. “So it’s true? You did create this complicated farce to get rid of me.” He laughed, long and hard. “You poor thing. No wonder you said you’d been thinking about having sex with that guy for a long time. You were waiting. Funny, though. It would’ve been a lot quicker to sleep with your electrician and let me catch you like you did today.”

“No. I’m convinced the switch was for
Jane and me. We both needed to learn some lessons. It had nothing to do with you.”

“It had everything to do with me.” He felt the heat of frustration churning his insides and creeping up his neck. “How can you say it didn’t?”

She set her glass in the sink and stepped closer to him. He could see she wanted to reach out and touch him but resisted. Her arm lifted then dropped. Then she crossed both over her chest. “We didn’t mean to hurt you. Like I said last night, I think Jane and I both love you, just in different ways. You deserve so much more than what I could give you, but Jane—”

“So you cooked up a scheme to shove me off onto your good pal,
Jane. No guilt.”

Her eyes staining pink with unshed tears, she shook her head. “No, I swear, it wasn’t like that.”

“I’m so tired of trying to figure out what that was all about, what you two were up to. I’ve had enough.” Not even close to being calm anymore, he walked to the front door. Just before he opened it, he shouted in frustration, “All I want to know is who is the woman I fell in love with? Why is it so hard to figure that out? Hell, does she even exist?”

Much calmer, Monica followed him to the door. “Jason, you know the answer to that. Just listen to your heart for once and leave your head out of it. Close your eyes and think about the woman you love. But don’t imagine what she looks like, imagine who she is deep inside. That is the part of her you’ve fallen in love with.”

In the middle of Monica’s foyer, he closed his eyes and tried to do as she suggested. Who was the woman he loved? If he blanked out her face and just thought about her, what was she like?

“Tell me. Describe her.”

“She’s funny and clever, witty and strong. Intelligent, responsible. She wants what I do in life, marriage, a family. I can talk to her about anything. She’s my friend, my lover. I can’t stop thinking about her. I want to know everything there is to know. And I want to share every moment with her.” He opened his eyes.

Monica smiled and nodded. “And who do you think that is? We both know that isn’t me.” She took his hands in hers. “If you never listened to a word of my advice, listen to me now. You need to go to her and tell her how you feel. Pronto.” Releasing his hands, she opened the door and gently pushed him through it. “Goodbye, Jason. Make her happy. She deserves it.”

He closed the door and inhaled the crisp air. And for the first time in his life, he closed his mind and opened his heart. Yes, he knew the answer to his question and yes, he would go to her. And he would spend the rest of his life making her happy if she let him. He had the perfect gift in mind, too. One that would show her exactly how much he loved her.

Monica breezed into work Monday morning, sat her butt on
Jane’s desk and proclaimed, “I slept with Bill.”

“Why are you telling me this?”
Jane asked, motioning for Monica to move so she could get back to work on her latest project. It was due by the end of the day and she was just now starting it. “Forgive me, but I don’t have time to chit-chat about your sex life.”

“But I thought you’d be happy to hear—”

“What? Why would you doing the nasty with your electrician—and cheating on your fiancé—make me happy?”

“Because, silly. That’s just it.” Monica caught
Jane’s wrists and pulled them away from her keyboard, forcing Jane to meet her gaze. “Jason’s not my fiancé anymore.”

Jane
was both happy and confused. “What? You broke the engagement?”

“Yep.”

“Wait a minute…” Jane needed to make sure she understood what Monica had just said. She was almost one hundred percent sure she’d misunderstood. “You broke your engagement to Jason so you could sleep with Bill?”

“Yep.” Monica lifted her left hand and displayed her bare ring finger to illustrate. “See? The rock’s gone. I gave it back. I’m not much for rubies anyway. What’s your birthday?”

“That’s insane,” Jane summed up in two words the flurry of thoughts shuffling through her brain. “The sex was that good? Jason loves you. He’s a good man. Generous, loyal, kind—”

“I just couldn’t go through with the marriage. I told you I didn’t love him like I should. He deserves so much more. He deserves someone like you, who’ll appreciate him.”

“What about your grandmother?” Jane asked, recalling their conversation the night of the party.

“I’ll figure that out.”

“You need his money and you said you loved him.”

“I won’t use him. I can’t believe I even considered it. And I know I told you I love him, but I don’t love him like you do.”

“So what are you suggesting?”

“I want you to go for it. Call him.”

Jane couldn’t believe her ears. “I can’t call him. I don’t date my friends’ exes. That’s a surefire way to lose a friend. I learned that back in high school,” she said, recalling the one time she had dated a friend’s former boyfriend. In the aftermath, she found herself lacking both a date to prom and the best friend she’d had since kindergarten. Friendships didn’t come easy to Jane and through the past few months she’d come to appreciate the one she had with Monica. She didn’t dare risk it over a man.

“Well, we’re not in high school any longer, and I’m giving you my blessing.”

“You’ll change your mind. Now, quit with this. Okay? I appreciate the thought but it’s impossible. I need to get back to work.” She slid the mouse over her desktop to disengage the screensaver.

Monica caught her wrist and held it tightly. “Nope. I won’t quit until you agree to call him.”

“Besides, who says he wants anything more than friendship with me? In case you forgot, I don’t look like you. Look at me.” After extricating her wrist from Monica’s claw-like grip, Jane stood and did a quick pirouette. “I’m short, dumpy, chubby and plain. What would someone like him want with someone like me? He’s absolutely gorgeous. He could have any woman he wants.”

Monica rested her hands on
Jane’s shoulders and gave them a soft shake. “That’s just it. He wants you. He just doesn’t realize it yet. Heck, he told me he was in love with you.”

“He said what?”

“He said he wanted to find the woman he’d fallen in love with.”

“That was you,”
Jane reminded her.

“No. That was you,” Monica corrected. “You’re right for him. You want the same things, you like the same things. You’re like two pieces of a puzzle. You complete each other. I only hope to find what you have someday. Congratulations,
Jane. You found true love. Now, are you going to be a wuss and run from it?”

“But…”

“No buts. I’ll kill you if you don’t call him. I’ll nag you every waking moment. I’ll harass you at work, at home. I’ll hide out in the ice cream aisle of the grocery store and hold every pint of Ben and Jerry’s hostage, whatever it takes until you listen to me.”

Jane
wasn’t sure if she should laugh or cry. She didn’t know if she should thank Monica and confess the feelings she’d repressed for so long they were eating her alive or keep them to herself. And so she did the only thing she could. She nodded and said, “Okay.”

Content with her answer, Monica pranced away.

Jane rehearsed a dozen different greetings throughout the day, determined not to make the call until she had down pat what she’d say to him. But later that night, as the buzzing of the ring in her ear ceased and his familiar voice took its place, all words were lost to her. She quickly hung up the phone and stared at it, suspecting it would ring any second. Everyone had caller ID these days.

It didn’t ring in five minutes, or six, or ten, or twenty, or thirty.

He wasn’t going to call her back. Monica had been wrong. Jason Foxx had no interest in plain-Jane Jane Brown. He was probably having a good, long laugh.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Her face hot, her back sweaty from nerves, she pushed open the French doors, stepped out onto the balcony, and looked up at the stars. There were a few bright enough to be seen, even this close to the city. The night was frigidly cold. Very still and quiet. The distant freeway traffic was light, sending the occasional rumble of a semi-truck to her ears.

To think it had all begun like this. A Monday night when she’d been looking up at the stars, though not as cold. Had it been a one-shot deal? She hadn’t thought to give it another try.

“Star light, star bright. First star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.” She closed her eyes and before she could stop herself, she said, “I wish Jason was here with me now.”

She waited a few minutes before opening her eyes, hoping she’d hear his voice any moment.

The only sound she heard was the distant tinny blaring of someone’s car alarm. Disappointed, but not surprised, she opened her eyes and looked down, expecting to see a car with the telltale flashing lights in the parking lot below her window. Morbidly curious but not seeing the car emitting the obnoxious round of whoops, sirens and buzzes, she leaned over the railing to see if it was one of the cars parked in the closer spots.

Something touched her back and, caught off guard, she jerked away, lunging forward and nearly toppling over the weak wooden railing. Her arms flailed until one hand caught hold of the decorative finial on top of a support post. No doubt the source of nutrition for millions of carpenter ants and termites, the wood snapped and Jane’s weight flew forward. The balls of her feet rolled over the edge of the porch and instinctively, she threw her arms forward and closed her eyelids, expecting to hit the ground within seconds.

A pair of strong hands gripped her waist and pulled her backward. “Oh no, you don’t. I did not go through this hell to have you kill yourself now.”

Instantly recognizing the voice, she spun around and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her own heartbeat still hammering in her ears, she pressed one side of her head against his chest and waited for her racing heart to find its normal rhythm. Then she remembered what—or rather who—had caused that near-fatal accident and she tipped her head up to look at him. “You darn near killed me,” she teased, loosening her grip but not releasing him. It felt too good being in his arms. Sinfully good. She realized her heart rate was picking up again, for entirely different reasons. “I was just fine until you touched me.”

“Sorry. I wanted to surprise you.”

“That you did.”

“What were you doing hanging over the edge like that?”

“Being nosy,” she admitted, pointing toward the street. “Someone’s car alarm was going off. Despite the relative warmth and safety she found in his arms, she released him and ventured toward the edge again. “Looks like it stopped. Hopefully the owner disengaged it and not some hoodlums. Speaking of hoodlums, how’d you get in? Did you pick the lock?”

“Didn’t have to. You left the door unlocked. This isn’t the worst neighborhood but it isn’t the best either. You should lock your door.” Looking a little nervous, he reached forward and pulled her away from the edge again. “Better stay back here until that banister gets fixed.”

“I do lock my door…I mean I did. I’m positive…” she said as she followed him inside. As they walked toward the living room, she eyed the front door with suspicion. Had another wish come true? Had a little fairy flown from Neverland or somewhere and unlocked her door? “Not to be rude, but what’re you doing here anyway?”

“I’m not sure to be honest. I’m still trying to figure that out.”

“Did…you drive here?”

“Of course I did. My car’s down in the parking lot.”

She giggled at her own silliness. “Of course. It’s just that…well, I made another wish and I thought since you said you weren’t sure what you were doing here that you literally didn’t know what you were doing here… Does that make sense?” She knew she was blabbering, but the way he was looking at her, she either blabbered or she stopped breathing. She figured nonstop yammering had to be better than having her drop cold in a faint.

“You made a wish?” His expression intense, his gaze fixed to hers, he stepped closer. “What did you wish for?” he whispered.

The air crackled between them, like tiny sparks of electricity were leaping back and forth from her to him and him to her. The hairs on her arms stood up and a tingle tiptoed up her spine. “I wished…that you were here with me.”

“Why would you wish that?” he asked, taking another step closer.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she asked, gasping for a breath. Why wouldn’t her lungs work? And why was he torturing her like this? Maybe her wish had brought him here. She’d probably never know. But it wouldn’t keep him here. He was doing that on his own. What did he want? His gaze suggested something she wasn’t sure she dared believe. “What would you wish for if given the chance?”

“I don’t make wishes.”

Despite the sober tone of his voice, she didn’t believe him. Both this time and the last, he was too…defensive. “Never? You never wished for something? Not even as a little boy? You can tell me. I promise I won’t laugh.”

“There was one…” Although he didn’t move, he seemed to be withdrawing.

This was a moment she knew could change both their lives. “What? Please tell me. I want to know. I want to know everything about you, your weaknesses as well as your strengths. Your failures as well as your successes. Your fears and dreams and wishes.” Stepping forward, she touched his face, allowing her fingertip to trace the strong line of his jaw.

He visibly swallowed. “I wished my father would come home and stay home. That was the only thing I wished for and it never came true.”

She knew it had been difficult to share that, and knowing he’d trusted her enough to admit something so personal touched her deeply. Her heart broke for the boy he’d once been, craving the two things his father’s money couldn’t buy—time and love. At the same time, her heart soared. She had his trust. He’d admitted something to her he had probably never even admitted to himself. The problem was, she had no idea what to say.

“Silly, I know,” he said when she didn’t respond.

She gripped both his arms in her hands and squeezed. “Oh no, not at all. You were a child. You needed love and attention from your father. He was all you had left. I’m sorry he couldn’t give it to you. It’s the least a child deserves from their parents, the one thing so many children crave. Ironic, it’s free yet so often ignored.”

He nodded. “I won’t do that to my children.”

“I know how it feels. Although I didn’t go to foreign boarding schools or have jet-setting parents who shopped in Milan or Japan, I was alone too as a kid. I learned to be very self-sufficient and responsible.”

“You have to when you’re your own parent. So, are you the woman I met the night I had Monica’s car repossessed? Was that really you on my front porch?”

She nodded. “If you can get yourself to believe in something you probably consider impossible, you know the answer. I was the one in the hot tub, and at the dance club, and at the apple orchard…in the poison ivy. I was the one eating roast beef and ice cream and talking about family and marriage. Can you believe, Jason?”

He smiled, the expression warming her insides until she could do nothing but sigh. “I forgot to mention one other wish,” he confessed. “I wasn’t a little boy when I made this one.”

That was a surprise. Intrigued, she asked, “Are you going to tell me what it was?”

“You weren’t the only one making wishes the night of the meteor shower. I did too. I wished Monica would become the woman of my dreams.”

Not sure how to take that, she said, “Oh? So did your wish come true?”

“In a way. I had to see beyond her outward beauty to finally accept that she wasn’t the woman I could love. I was stuck in a rut, created by my own stubborn determination to make my relationship with Monica work even when I knew it wouldn’t. I had to experience
Jane Brown to know what true love was like. I guess I had to learn to believe in the impossible.”