Not Quite Dating Page 6

  “Good, then maybe you won’t mind if I join you.”

  Did she want that? Brad wasn’t unappealing, but there wasn’t much about him that screamed attraction. When he smiled, the spark didn’t reach his eyes, not the way Jack’s eyes danced when he laughed.

  She really needed to stop comparing the man to Jack. Jack was the waiter; this man was a guest. Still, her concern that Jack could round the corner and catch her talking to this guy made her feel wrong somehow. It shouldn’t, she realized, but it did. Bad form to be wearing a dress one man picked out for her while another man was flirting with her.

  “I’m actually about to leave, but it’s been nice meeting you.”

  A flash of disappointment spread over Brad’s face. “Are you just saying that, or do you mean that?” he asked.

  “I mean it. It’s late, and my…my sitter needs to get home.” OK, that was a crock. Monica didn’t need to go anywhere. Jessie had learned early on that talking about her sitter was a good way of telling a prospective date that she was a mother without the awkward Do you want to date a single mom conversation.

  Brad glanced at her left hand.

  “I’m not married,” she informed him, saving him the trouble of asking.

  He smiled again. No dimples, no spark to his brown eyes. At least she thought they were brown. It was hard to tell with the dim lighting.

  “How old are your children?”

  OK, he didn’t run screaming. Not a bad sign.

  “Child. I have a son. He’s five.”

  Brad lifted his chin. “I’ll bet he’s adorable, just like his mother.”

  Hookay, time to go. “Thanks, he’s the best.” She scooted away, but only a couple of steps. She peeked over her shoulder, sure someone was watching her.

  “Would you mind if I called you, Jessie? Maybe grab a cup of coffee or something?”

  Jessie had to stop herself from saying no. Why? she asked herself.

  Jack.

  Dammit.

  “That might be nice,” she found herself saying. “I like coffee.”

  He pulled out a pen from the inside of his suit pocket and a card. “I’m going out of town this week, but I’ll be back the beginning of next.”

  Jessie rambled off her number, which Brad happily wrote down.

  “I really should go.”

  He lifted his eyebrows and said, “I’ll see you later, then.”

  “OK, bye.”

  Jessie pulled her wrap close and fought a chill as she stepped back into the busy ballroom. She walked about three yards before she noticed Jack’s eyes on her. He glanced behind her, to the open patio doors, then back her way. Jessie had to force herself not to look behind her to see if Brad had walked in the room. She felt guilty as it was, which was stupid. She shouldn’t feel bad at all.

  She made her way to Jack’s side, forcing a calm smile on her face.

  “There you are,” he said when she was within earshot.

  “I needed to escape the cougar-lady after you left.”

  Jack was still watching the doorway.

  Jessie shifted on her feet. “Um, Jack, I think I should work my way home.” It was nearly midnight, and some of the guests had started to leave.

  Something shifted in Jack’s gaze.

  Jessie turned toward the patio doors and noticed Brad watching the two of them. He nodded his head to her before turning to talk to one of the guests.

  “Who’s that?” Jack asked.

  “Some guy.”

  “Some guy?”

  “Yeah, we met outside. He said his name was Brad. Do you know him?”

  Jack shook his head; all the while, he followed Brad’s movements. “No, can’t say as I do.”

  “He seemed nice enough.” Because not telling him was eating her up inside, she blurted out, “He asked me for my number.”

  When Jack’s head spun to her, she swallowed hard. Jack pissed wasn’t a happy look. The sparkle she liked to see in his eyes when he smiled took on a whole new level when he was ticked. “Come on, Jack, you know I’m here to meet someone.”

  “Someone I know that will do good by you. That guy—”

  “Brad.”

  “Brad, what kind of name is Brad? He looks like a lawyer.”

  Jessie was sure Jack meant that as an insult, but a lawyer spelled stability to her. “Brad is a perfectly normal name and I don’t know what he does for a living.”

  “What do you know about him?”

  “Nothing, really.”

  “And you just gave him your number? He could be some wacko. Why don’t you let me do the matchmaking?”

  Jessie laughed. “Stop it. I doubt he’s a wacko.”

  Jack finally stopped staring at Brad and gazed down at her.

  “Thank you for your concern, but I’m a big girl. My judgment in people isn’t usually very far off.” As long as you weren’t counting Rory or Mathew.

  “I don’t know.” He glanced back at Brad.

  Jessie stood in front of him. “Don’t go doing anything stupid when I leave. Harassing the guests will get you fired.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  “Yes, didn’t you hear me?” No, of course he didn’t. Testosterone truly poisoned men’s brains.

  “Is something wrong at home?”

  “No, Danny is sleeping by now, I’m sure.”

  Jack set the tray he held down on a nearby table. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “That isn’t necessary.”

  “I insist.” He placed his hand on the small of her back and pushed her to the door.

  “What about work? Won’t you get in trouble?”

  Jack smiled. Some of it actually overtook his frown, and his eyes started to sparkle again. “I’m off at midnight anyway.”

  “It’s not midnight yet.”

  He ignored her words and fell in step beside her. They dodged several people before making their way to the quiet lobby, then out into the entryway. “Did you valet park?”

  “What do you think?” she asked as she turned toward the sidewalk, where self-parking was encouraged.

  Jack nodded to the porter before catching up to her again. “You really don’t need to walk me to my car.”

  “You can’t accuse me of not being a gentleman.”

  No, she couldn’t say that about him. Jessie weaved her way through the cars until she saw her old Toyota Celica. It looked lost among so many fancy, newer vehicles. It ran, and that’s what counted.

  “This is me,” she announced as she fished her keys from her bag. She opened the door and tossed her purse in the passenger seat before turning to Jack. “Thanks again, Jack. For everything.”

  Jack shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “It’s nothing. I’m glad you came.”

  “I had fun. Be careful with the cougar-lady if you go back in there,” she warned.

  “Cougar-lady?”

  “Yeah, the flashy woman with the shrimp. She looks like she eats waiters for breakfast, and she had you in her sights.” Friends warn friends about bad choices for the bedroom, didn’t they?

  “You be careful with Braaad.”

  Jessie had to smirk at how Jack drew out Brad’s name. “He said something about calling me next week. I’m not even sure I’ll go out with him.” Now why did she tell him that? Maybe because when he said the other man’s name, he did so with a frown. Unease about the entire evening started to seep into her bones.

  Jack stepped back. “Well, good night.”

  “Night, Jack.”

  Closing the door, Jessie was grateful for the easy exit. No drama, no fuss.

  Famous last words.

  When she twisted the key in the ignition, the car groaned, then moaned, then gave up trying to start altogether. She twisted it again, but the car made only a clicking noise in response.

  Oh boy. Just what she needed. Jack watched her through the windshield. Jessie threw her hands in the air and tried to start it again.

  Nothing.


  Frustrated, she opened the door and swung her feet out.

  “I don’t get it; darn car wasn’t acting up on the way over here.”

  “Pop the hood.”

  “You know about cars?” Jessie leaned in and pulled the lever.

  Jack opened the hood, but the dimly lit parking lot made viewing the engine minimally possible at best. Jack fiddled with a couple of things anyway. “Try again.”

  Jessie did, but nothing changed. She pushed out of the car a second time and stood with Jack over the worn-out engine. “I hate this car. If it isn’t one thing, it’s another.”

  “How many miles are on it?” Jack asked as he stood and lowered the hood.

  “Two hundred and some change.”

  “Thousand?”

  “It’s an old car, Jack.”

  He shook his head. “Here, give me the keys.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll look at it in the morning, when I can see what’s going on.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I can have it towed. Have a mechanic check it out.”

  Jack kept his hand out, palm up. “Save your money, let me see if I can fix it.”

  Jessie vacillated over what she should do. “You’ve already done enough.”

  “Jessie, darlin’, give me the keys.”

  She handed them over. “If it isn’t simple, or it costs you money, I wanna pay for it.”

  Jack surveyed his greasy hands.

  Jessie opened the back door and pulled out a package of wipes she kept there for her son. “Here,” she said, pulling a couple wipes free and handing them to him.

  Cleaning his hands, Jack thanked her. “Let’s get you home.”

  “I can call my sister.”

  “And wake up your son? Come on.” He grabbed her elbow and led her toward the front of the hotel. “A friend of mine borrowed my truck, so we’re going to have to use a different car to take you home.”

  “You have a second car?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Jessie walked faster to keep up with Jack’s steps.

  He stopped in front of the valet porter and smiled. “Hello, Wes.”

  Wes stood a little taller at the mention of his name. His eyes swept back and forth between her and Jack.

  “Hello, Mr.—”

  “Jack,” he interrupted. “Mister is so formal.”

  “Jack,” Wes said, his eyes continuing to shift almost as if he was nervous or something.

  “Wes, it appears that one of the hotels guests is having a bit of difficulty with her car.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, miss.”

  Jessie smiled and Jack continued to talk.

  “Is there a car available?”

  Wes took short steps as he walked up to his podium to check a book sitting on top of it. “There is, but Mr.…Jack, it seems we are short a driver tonight. The other two are taking other people home at this time. No telling when they’ll come back.”

  “That’s fine. I can drive the lady home. Can you have one of your runners bring the car around?”

  Wes’s head bobbed up and down, his cheeks rippling slightly as he did. “Right away, sir.”

  Jessie grabbed Jack’s arm and led him back a few feet. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting you home.”

  “In a hotel car?”

  “Relax, Jessie, we do this all the time.”

  First the dress, then the party, now this? Jack was sure to get canned, and it would all be her fault.

  A few seconds later, a limousine pulled up into the circular drive and a porter popped out of the driver’s seat. Wes opened the back door and extended his arm to Jessie.

  Her feet wouldn’t budge. This couldn’t be the car Jack spoke of.

  Jack pushed her forward. “Get in,” he whispered under his breath. “Act like you do this all the time.”

  Jessie plastered a forced smile on her lips and quickly slid into the backseat of the stretch limo.

  Bedded lighting roped around the doors and seats. Eight or nine people could easily fit into the space. A minibar sat below a flat-screen television; a moonroof displayed the stars twinkling above.

  When the front door closed and Jack pushed a button, lowering the glass separating her space from his, Jessie hopped into the seat closer to him. “You know, Jack, you’re crazy.”

  “Nice, isn’t it?”

  “Nice? It’s amazing.”

  Jack pulled out of the drive and into what traffic milled about this late on a Saturday night.

  “You were a guest at the hotel, and The Morrison takes care of their guests.”

  “I was an impostor, and you know it,” she scolded as she ran her hand along the soft leather interior with a sigh.

  “Darlin’, there is nothing about you that’s fake. Nothing!”

  Chapter Five

  Jack watched her from the rearview mirror. Jessie was grinning from ear to ear, pressing buttons and checking out the luxuries a limo provided. Adorable, there was no other way to describe it.

  “Have you ever ridden in a limo before?” he asked, turning toward the airport.

  “No, can’t say as I have. I can’t believe people live this way all the time.”

  “Some do.”

  “Can you imagine being able to do this anytime you wanted a ride?”

  Jack swallowed and kept his eyes on the road. “I’ve met my share of silver-spooned kids…adults who have had access to limos all their lives. You’d be surprised how many of them are a lot like you and me.” He glanced in the rearview mirror to gauge Jessie’s reaction.

  She shrugged her shoulders and petted the leather as if it were fur.

  What would she think if she knew he had been riding in limos since before he was born? His dad couldn’t be there for him all the time, and he’d needed to get back and forth to school. A driver had been assigned to him and Katie at an early age. When junior high started, Jack asked his dad if the driver could drive a “normal” car so the kids wouldn’t get on him at school. Gaylord told him to cowboy up and set the kids right himself. He was a Morrison, and Morrisons had money. They spent it, too.

  Jack took it upon himself to offer other kids rides all the time, ending the teasing and starting the party. In high school, Jack learned who his true friends were and who the moochers were. Mike, Tom, and Dean stuck; the others fell through the cracks.

  “I guess anyone could get used to this. Lord knows I could.”

  Jack smiled and wished he could record her words to use later, when he could tell her the truth about himself. “Is there wine back there?”

  “Champagne.”

  “If it’s OK with you, I can park by the runways and we can watch the jets take off through the moonroof.” The Morrison Hotel sat on the edge of the convention center, which was no more than four miles from the airport.

  “Don’t you have to get this back?”

  “No, there’s no one to drive her.” Jack pulled down the dark street where other people parked to watch the jets take off. Ontario still wasn’t overpopulated around the airport to the point where you couldn’t watch.

  He found a good spot, killed the engine, and joined Jessie in the back. Once seated, he flipped the switch and opened the roof.

  “Wow.” Her eyes sparkled.

  Jack found the champagne and twisted off the metal covering. “Here,” he said, standing up to poke his head through the roof. He popped the cork and it flew into the bush. The sparkling wine started to bubble over, and Jessie let out a tiny scream.

  “Here.” She thrust a towel at him before the beverage could spill onto the floor.

  “Thank ya kindly, ma’am.”

  Jessie laughed again and handed him a couple of glasses once he sat back down.

  Jack poured her a glass, then filled his own before returning the bottle to the chilled bucket. He lifted his glass and said, “To new friends.”

  “I can drink to that,” Jessie said before clicking her glass to his. She sipped t
he wine and relaxed back into the seat next to him. Her gaze moved to the roof to catch the bottom view of a jet taking off. “You know, I’ve seen people park here all the time, but I never once thought to do it myself.”

  “It’s amazing how they keep those hunks of metal up in the air.”

  “I don’t get it, either. I’m surprised there aren’t more problems with them.”

  “It’s still the safest way to travel,” Jack said.

  “I wouldn’t know. I’ve only been on a plane once.”

  “Really?” That was hard to believe.

  “I was twelve; Monica, my sister, was nine. Mom met some guy who told her he was visiting from Seattle. She’d fallen head over heels for him in the course of two weeks during the summer.”

  “I take it your mom’s divorced.”

  “A few times over,” Jessie told him, without even a hint of a frown on her face. She was obviously used to her mom’s ways. “Anyway, this guy gave her a line about how he’d love to be with her and us kids, but he couldn’t live in Southern California. He had a business in Seattle to run anyway. He couldn’t ask her to leave here and drag us girls up north…blah, blah, blah.”

  “Then what?”

  “Mom bought us tickets, packed our bags, and took us to Seattle.” She shook her head at the memory.

  “I take it that didn’t go over with Mr. Blowhard.”

  “No. Mr. Blowhard’s wife wasn’t too fond of opening the door and finding us there.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Monica and I never even had a chance to feel the Pacific Northwest rain they always complain about. Mom took us to the airport, where we stayed for nearly two days until we could get a flight home.”

  “Two days? Why so long?”

  “My mother didn’t have the foresight to buy round-trip tickets or even have enough money to buy our way home. A friend of hers wired money, but we still had to wait on standby in the middle of the night to catch a cheap flight. It was a mess.”

  “Kind of takes the fun out of flying,” he told her.

  Jessie sipped her wine again. “What about you? Your parents still married?”

  “Ah, no.”

  “You don’t sound too sure.”

  “Well, my mom took off when I was in my early teens. She kept in touch, in her own way—a phone call here, a letter there. She kept my dad on the hook until my sister graduated high school, then she filed for a divorce.” He remembered that day. “It was June. The weather in Texas was starting to heat up. My dad was working too many hours. Then one day I walked in and found my dad sitting in the den, drinking whiskey.”