for the totally wrong type of boy. A silent plea for rescue from a mundane existence cluttered with more responsibilities than any teenager should be burdened with. An illicit mental visit to the dark side where the expectations and judgment of others meant nothing and Jena could indulge in the forbidden. Break the rules. Go wild. Have imaginary sex.
“And I’d thought maybe you were considering him as a husband candidate to meet the terms of our trust,” Jaci went on.
Never. Okay. Maybe once, or a few times during random episodes of pregnancy-induced psychosis when out-of-control hormones caused gross mutations to the brain cells responsible for rational thought. Moments of weakness when Jena had actually entertained the possibility of Justin protecting her from the machinations of her brother, providing a home for her and their daughters, and taking care of the three of them.
But Justin didn’t want her, and Jena refused to be any man’s second best, which didn’t much matter right now, anyway, since getting married no longer occupied the top spot on her list of priorities. Staying alive for her daughters did.
“I had no idea you two were …” Jaci began. “I mean, I haven’t seen you together in years. Neither of you mentioned that you … kept in touch.”
They didn’t, not technically, unless stalking him on social networking sites counted. Some childhood habits—like an unhealthy interest in all things Justin—were hard to break. Jena picked at a chipped fingernail she kept forgetting to file down, preoccupied with caring for the twins and worrying about the future and Jaci being attacked … “It was one night.” She couldn’t look at her sister. “We met up at Oliver’s.” A favorite restaurant/bar where Justin and Jaci often hung out. And now for the worst of it. “He thought I was you.”
“What?” Jaci screeched. “You did not just say Justin took you to bed thinking you were me.”
She couldn’t change what’d happened or the outcome. All she could do was own up to it. She looked Jaci in the eye. “It was the anniversary of Mom’s death. I’d had a horrible fight with Jerald.” Their pompous, older half-brother who’d been aggressively trying to manipulate them into marrying any one of a dozen of his equally pompous business associates. “I had to get out of the house.” A.k.a. the Piermont Estate where she and Jerald each had a wing. “We’d spoken earlier and you were still so depressed over Ian returning to Iraq. I decided to surprise you with dinner.” And that’s how it’d started, with a kind gesture to cheer her sister.
“I ordered a glass of wine while I waited for the takeout and noticed Justin sitting across the bar. Alone. With a couple of empty, upside down shot glasses lined up in front of him.” Normally she would have simply blended into the crowd and stared at him from afar, attraction battling better judgment. But, “One of the bartenders noticed me and called out, ‘Jaci, take him home before I toss him out of here.’” Boy had Justin perked up at the mention of Jaci’s name. “At the time, it didn’t seem to matter who he thought I was, as long as I got him home safely.”
“You mean to tell me,” Jaci crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Jena, “during the ride in the Piermont limo, the walk from the parking lot up to the fifth floor, and while you were stripping off each other’s clothes it never crossed your mind that maybe you should clue him in to your real identity?”
Of course it had. But close proximity to Justin had caused an arousal spike that forced it away and relegated it to the spot where she stored all the unwelcome thoughts and memories she’d accumulated through the years, corralled deep in the recesses of her brain. Instead she’d allowed herself to enjoy his company and the freedom that came with pretending to be Jaci who balked at the rules and did and said what she wanted, when she wanted. Just like Justin.
For the first time in her life, Jena didn’t overanalyze, didn’t weigh the pros and cons or think about what a person of good moral character would do. Instead she’d focused on what she’d wanted, what she’d needed more than anything at that specific moment in time—comfort, a caring touch, a brief sojourn from real life—without a care for the consequences. And look where it’d gotten her. “I’m sorry.”
“It makes no sense.” Jaci said, pulling a pillow onto her lap and playing with the fringe. “Justin and I don’t have that kind of relationship. We’re friends. We’ve never …” She grimaced. “I have to admit I’m a little weirded out by the whole thing.”
“If it helps, I made the first move.” An orchestrated meeting of their lips. Jena leaned forward to try to catch Jaci’s attention. “He tried to stop me.” A half-hearted, ‘We shouldn’t,’ milliseconds before he’d yanked her close and kissed her with the unbridled passion of a man releasing years of pent up attraction and lust.
Jaci smiled. “You little tigress. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
It’d been a quite a shocker to Jena, too.
Someone knocked on the door. Jena jumped.
“Quick,” Jaci said. “Why did you take off?”
“The next morning Justin went nuts, carrying on about what a mistake it’d been. Angry at himself for letting it happen, for ruining your friendship. Guilty because you were Ian’s girl and he didn’t poach.” Jena shivered at the memory of Justin in a rage, which was why she’d chosen to tell him about the twins with Jaci close by. “I knew I had to tell him. And I did.”
Him sitting on the side of the bed elbows on his thighs, his head in his hands, completely comfortable with his nakedness. Her standing in the doorway to the bedroom, fully dressed. “I said, ‘You didn’t have sex with Jaci, you had it with me. Jena.’ Rather than a whew or a yippee, he’d tilted his miserable face up, oh so slowly, and simply said, ‘Oh, God. That’s even worse.’”
“Oh, honey. I’m sorry.” Jaci reached for her hand and squeezed.
“Wait, it gets better,” Jena said. “Then he’d slapped his hand over his mouth and with a muffled, ‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ he ran past me and threw up in the bathroom.” Intimacy with Jena had nauseated him to the point of regurgitation.
Another knock. Louder.
“Be right there,” Jaci yelled.
“So I left.”
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
Jena looked away. “I was humiliated and disgusted with myself. How could I face you? I’m so ashamed.”
“Hey,” Jaci said. “Look at me.” When Jena did she asked, “Where did you go?”
Jena saw understanding in Jaci’s eyes and felt hope that they’d get past this. “Home.” Where she’d given the guard at the gate strict instructions not to let anyone up the drive. As if Justin would have wasted his time coming after her. Within three hours she’d made the necessary arrangements, packed and was being chauffeured to the airport. “South Carolina. Marta’s there.” Their old nanny. “When Jerald sent her away she’d said she’d always be there for us.” And boy had Jena appreciated Marta’s calm reassurance when faced with an unexpected pregnancy complicated by yet another painful lump in her right breast, her caring support while dealing with the fear of diagnostic testing adversely affecting her unborn babies through the results of yet another needle biopsy, and her knowledgeable guidance leading up to the birth of the twins through surviving those first few sleep-deprived weeks.
“I’m
