had suffered through enough for the both of them.
“Don’t worry, Pops. I’m just blowing smoke.”
“So, you seeing the girl again? The one who gave you the hard-on just thinking about her?” Pops set the bag down on the end table next to his recliner. “Toss me a hand towel.”
Jack got up and retrieved the towel from the small bathroom. “Yes, I’m seeing her tomorrow night.”
Pops grinned, his bushy white eyebrows moving up and down under the few remaining wisps of hair on his head. “Moving fast. Just like I used to back in my day. No grass ever grew under these feet when it came to the ladies.”
Jack handed him the towel. “I don’t doubt it, Pops. But this is complicated. She’s Caroline’s roommate.”
“So?”
“So she doesn’t know who I am. I acted like it was an accident that we met.”
“You mean it wasn’t an accident? What are ya, stalking her or something? Don’t be a loser, Jack.” Pops wiped his mouth and gave him a look of disdain. “You should’ve just called her up and asked her out for Chrissake. If I were younger, I’da had her six ways to Sunday by now.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Jack glared at his grandfather. “I wasn’t stalking her.” Not really. Much. Shit.
“The thing is, Jamie is a social worker and her agency requested funding from the Hathaway Foundation. Since I investigate financials for all organizations asking the foundation for money, I spotted something not exactly legal in the records for the agency Jamie works for. And by the way, I wouldn’t be in this awkward position if I hadn’t agreed to take over your cake retirement job while you’re rehabbing. I mean, we’re both supposed to be retired, and here we are both working. It makes no sense.”
“Retirement is for schmucks. And if it’s a cake job, what the hell are you complaining for?”
Because it made him feel better. He actually hated retirement. He had been slowly and surely going insane until Pops had the stroke and Jack had taken over his job at the charitable foundation Pops had created a decade earlier. It was easy work, only twenty-five hours a week, and Jack got to feel as though he was contributing to the good of society.
But he was still bored, which was ironic. He’d left the corporate grind behind to take some time to smell the roses, and he’d found out his nose didn’t work.
“I’m complaining because now I know Jamie Peters could be implicated in illegal day trading, and calling the feds on the woman I think I want to have sex with for the rest of my life is not cool.”
Pops cracked a laugh. “Har. Guess not. But listen, Jack-o, this could actually work to your advantage. You go in there and clean it up for her. She’ll be grateful. More willing to go down on you.”
Jack shouldn’t be shocked at anything that came out of his grandfather’s mouth, yet he still found himself gaping. “Pops! Christ. You don’t have to be crude.”
Unrepentant, Pops just shrugged. “What? It’s the truth.”
Pacing the small room, Jack tried to think the whole situation through, and not visualize Jamie Peters going down on him. “The problem is, if I tell Jamie who I am, she’s going to freeze me out. I mean, I rejected her funding request. And she’s not going to believe me that someone within her organization is defrauding them. Or if she is willing to believe it, she’s not going to let me poke in their business. She’ll just take it to her boss or to the perpetrator.”
“I’m with you. But what’s your other option?”
Jack wasn’t sure. But he didn’t want the look in Jamie’s eyes to change when she found out who he was. When she realized he had money, both personally and professionally, and had denied it to her project.
But more importantly he was worried about her safety. “The thing is, whoever is dipping into the till is not going to like being found out. I’m worried if I just tell Jamie, she’ll confront the most likely suspect and wind up hurt. Criminals panic when they’ve been backed into a corner.”
“You think someone’s going to kill her for a little cash?” Pops raised an eyebrow.
“Maybe not kill her. Or rape her or hit her, though those are possibilities. But more likely they could fire her, or pin it on her.” Which was why Jack had been following her in the first place. He had wanted to make sure Jamie wasn’t involved.
Two minutes in her company and he was convinced she wasn’t.
“You’re screwed, kid.” Shaking his head, Pops adjusted in his chair. “You either tell her who you are and risk her running into trouble, or you keep it a secret and have her pissed at you when she finds out. And you know as well as I do there’s really no choice.”
That’s precisely what Jack was concluding.
“You always protect a woman, even if it leaves you out in the cold.”
“I know. I don’t like it, but I’m not going to risk Jamie getting in over her head.” Lying wasn’t something he wanted to do, but he’d deal with it.
“So you’ve got two weeks to find your culprit and wrap this up, because if she’s Caro’s roommate, she’s going to be at your sister’s wedding, and it’s going to be hard to keep your identity a secret when you’re sitting at the goddamn bridal table.”
Jack grimaced. “I’d totally forgotten about the wedding. Maybe I was hoping Caroline and Brad would suddenly decide to elope.”
The thought of enduring that family affair was painful to begin with, despite the fact that he adored his sister. Too much like a dinner party, but with people you didn’t like.
Half of his family thought he needed a stint in the psych ward for walking away from a thriving career. They tended to speak slowly to him and give him gifts like soothing scented candles and spa gift certificates.
Then the other half would spend the evening giving him their latest hard luck stories and why they needed a little bit of cash to tide them over. He usually gave it to them, feeling it would be selfish not to help if they really needed it, but the trouble was most of them didn’t need it.
And it ruined all family gatherings for him. Leaving him depressed and isolated.
But he would endure it, and with a smile for his sister’s sake. In two weeks.
Tomorrow night he was seeing Jamie and had every intention of tasting those plump pink lips of hers. Tomorrow night he wouldn’t be Jonathon Davidson, millionaire. He would be just Jack.
A glance at the clock confirmed that time had ceased to move forward.
Only twenty-five more hours to go.
A call from Allison saved Jamie from having to eat ice cream for dinner.
“Meet me at Dorsal. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Jamie looked down at her wrinkled dress and weighed the embarrassment of looking like a poster child for Calgon in public versus eating mahimahi and sipping
