Catch of the Year (17 page)

He covered his sudden unease by acting deliberately cool. Lounging back in his chair, he stretched his legs out under the desk, and crossed his ankles. He acknowledged Jade's presence with a raised brow.

“I need to see you in my office, Paul. Right away.”

With that she turned and stalked off.

Surprised at the curt tone, he threw down his pen. Jade might be standoffish and reserved, but she wasn't usually quite so abrupt.

He pushed his chair away from the desk and followed the cold fish into her underwater cave. Well, maybe that was pushing it a bit. She wasn't so bad. More uptight than anything else. And her office wasn't dark, although it was decorated in cool sea colors.

She moved to the power position behind her desk, windows at her back so her face was in shadow, and sat down.

Warily, Paul seated himself. He saw her swallow.

She began speaking, her voice even huskier than usual. It had always puzzled him, that voice, as if it weren't quite natural.

“As you know, recently the agency's lost a couple of big accounts.”

He clasped his hands together, linking them over his knee. A sliver of disquiet slipped into him.

“I only just heard.”

“Of course. Uh, I forgot. You've been away on sick leave.” Her eyebrows rose, but otherwise there was no change in her expression. “Are you feeling better now?”

“Much.” He wasn't about to elaborate when she might as well have been a computer screen, and a non-interactive one at that.

“Good.” She shifted on her chair, picked up a pen and tapped it end over end on the table.

Paul didn't think he'd ever seen Jade ill at ease before. Usually she was annoyingly overconfident. So, what, exactly, was going on here?

Concerned at her request for a private meeting and the rumors of impending layoffs, he waited uneasily for her to say more. But as her silence lengthened, his brain refused to stay on task.

With an artist's eye, his gaze drifted over her, starting at the top, at the smooth, long bob of her blond hair, lingering on her mouth, then drifting lower. Underneath the sharp business suit, were her breasts as firm, did the nipples peek as cheekily as Serendipity's? My God, these thoughts were totally out of line. He was going crazy. Maybe he'd come back to work too early, or someone had slipped him something in his coffee. Somehow the hot beverage hadn't tasted quite as good as when accompanied by one of those muffins Serendipity had brought … .

Still Jade kept quiet. Paul shifted. The silence had grown awkward.

She began elaborating on the situation the agency found itself in. Paul listened with half an ear, his gaze lowered to the kneehole under her desk, to where he could view her neat ankles. As usual, her feet were encased in plain court shoes. He narrowed his eyes, observing her shape, thinking about his sculpture.

Perhaps Jade sensed his distraction, because her next words were spoken in a sharp tone, which penetrated his daydreaming.

“Unfortunately, Paul, you are one of the most recent to be employed.”

His attention caught, he blinked at her. As she continued talking, a weird kind of detachment took hold of him, a strange kind of serenity. He was present, listening to her words, knowing they portended a big change in his life, yet they didn't hold any real significance for him. There was something else of more importance, but he couldn't quite capture what it was.

She leaned sideways and scratched her ankle. His gaze followed her hand. He saw the irritable red mark of an insect bite and … something else, something under, no,
on
the skin.

A tattoo.

Paul watched as Jade continued scratching. In the process, she uncovered more of the needle's art, revealing the tattoo to be a crescent moon. There, too, were stars.

This wasn't possible. He had to be hallucinating. Seeing stars. Something of his fixation with Serendipity was affecting his sight. Jade Jellicoe could not possibly have a tattoo on her ankle. What a stupid idea.

He tore his gaze away and looked out the window. But his eyes had a will of their own and returned to her ankle. The tattoo really was there, on exactly the same ankle where Serendipity bore hers, on exactly the same spot.

No, this was crazy. His scalp started to prickle, his brain feeling as though it were being fried. He had to be wrong. But then his memory threw up a picture — that of Serendipity's bike helmet. On the front was the sign of Gemini. The twins.

Paul's hands clutched the curved metal of the armrests. He stopped breathing. So, this was what it felt like to be turned to stone. If he believed the evidence of his eyes, which he was forced to do, this woman who was so calmly and coldly terminating him, was also one and the same as the passionate lover of his dreams, the woman he'd been falling for and had even contemplated spending the rest of his life with. Serendipity.

His brain, his body — all of him — felt as if they were going to explode.

“Of course, we'll provide you with an adequate, generous, severance package.”

“That's fine. Very good,” he heard himself answer. His voice sounded clipped but otherwise almost normal as he interrupted her flow of words.

Serendipity had left him standing in the dust. Now she was doing the same thing again, only in a different fashion.

A hard knot formed in his chest, cold and vengeful, demanding he inflict some sort of wound in return for the blow he'd just received.

He stood up and took a couple of paces. Half turning away from her, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “In any case, I need a change. City life is not for me. Neither is all this — ” he waved one hand to encompass the agency — “the pressure, the long hours, the politics. Being let go will give me the chance to pursue another, completely different direction.” He laughed without humor. “I thought I was falling in love. I was even thinking of marriage. Very recently, these last two weekends in fact, I met the woman of my dreams. But I seem to have mislaid her.” He turned and raised an eyebrow, looking directly at Jade. “Rather careless of me, wouldn't you say?”

She gaped at him.

He saw her turn pale and slowly stand up. But she didn't move toward him.

“Please, don't tell.”

“What, that you're a two-faced woman who uses people?”

“No. About Serendipity.”

Paul was quiet a moment. “I won't betray you. Whatever your reasons for this charade.”

With that, an evil, swamping tide of rage rose in him. Barely nodding in Jade's direction, somehow or other he got himself out of there. He was sure of that, because he heard the door slam behind him. Next thing he knew he was outside the building, striding off down the road. The direction didn't matter. All he needed was to get away.

• • •

He'd recognized her! Totally stunned, Jade stared at the blank rectangle of the closed door. That was it. Paul was out of her life. Their fling was over. There'd be no problem of unexpected encounters at work where he might catch her off her guard, no question of behaving unprofessionally when he was around.

Because he wouldn't be.

She slumped back down on her chair and cradled her head in her hands. She'd never intended to hurt him like this, never wanted him to find out like this, especially on the same day she cut him off from his livelihood … . And what about those last phrases he had tossed off so casually? Could he really have meant them? Or was that some strange way to save face, to wound her in retaliation? Except he wasn't that kind of person. At least, he hadn't been, not in his dealings with Serendipity.

Oh God. She couldn't believe he'd started to love her, had even been considering marriage. After two weekends together? In such a short time, it was hardly possible he knew her well enough — except in the biblical sense. Yet … wasn't her heart telling her similar about him? That she was falling in love? Otherwise, why this devastation over what had just happened, over the knowledge she'd never see him again? Never, not since she'd played weddings when she was little, had she ever imagined herself getting married. But now, imagining life with Paul by her side … . No, she mustn't think like that. Better to pretend she'd never heard those words. Wipe them from her memory.

She felt completely drained, hollowed out. She couldn't think about tomorrow, or next week, or next year, because now her life stretched empty before her. She hadn't intended to let Paul touch her heart, but quite unknowingly, carelessly, she'd handed it to him. At the same time, she'd been instrumental in crushing their blossoming love underfoot.

A pain as sharp as an icicle struck through her heart.

• • •

For the next hour, she kept her office door closed. Her phone went unanswered. Finally, sniffling, she looked up at the clock. Already four
P.M.
Thank goodness. Although she longed to escape straightaway, she'd hide in her office for another hour. Even the fact that she wouldn't stay late today was bound to cause comment.

Turning to her computer, she went back to her numbers. Usually she found solace in their perfect predictability, but now they were powerless to stop the tears from streaming, unbidden, down her cheeks. She reached for a tissue, tugged it out of the cardboard box with a rasp, and dabbed below her eyes to do as little damage to her appearance as possible.

Her phone rang. She took a couple of seconds to sit up, put her shoulders back and breathe, before picking up the receiver.

“Jade, hi! I'm so glad I caught you. It's Betty.”

Betty. The real estate agent she'd contacted. A note of excitement lit the Realtor's voice. “I tried you yesterday, but I guess you were out of town.”

“Sorry, Betty. I got back late and didn't pick up my messages.”

“The thing is, there's a house I want you to take a look at.”

“Oh?” Jade forced herself to switch focus.

“I'm pretty sure you'd be interested in this property … . Listen, is there any chance you could come with me right now to view it? My sense is this could be the one, and we need to move fast.”

Jade didn't see any reason to refuse. No use imagining she'd accomplish anything much in the way of work for the rest of the afternoon.

“Okay.”

“Perfect. I'll pick you up in front of the agency. Say in fifteen?”

With that agreed, Jade took her emergency kit out of her desk drawer, flipped open the little mirror, and looked at herself.

Not great. She didn't want to go to the washroom and risk putting her anguish, her red, puffy eyes, on display. Cosmetics could achieve a lot, but anyone really looking at her would see she'd been crying.

The lipstick slid over her lips, those lips that would never again kiss Paul.
No, Jade, stop thinking like that.
A fresh coat of mascara would help. She sniffed and blinked at the mirror as she stroked the wand over her eyelashes. Then she dabbed at her face with the small puff from the miniature powder compact. Small, everyday actions, but they brought a measure of comfort for all that.

How fortunate the phone call had come at just that moment. No more wallowing. She'd try not to dwell on what had happened, but shut it away and concentrate on finding herself the long-promised and hard-worked-for home instead.

• • •

Thirteen minutes later, Jade jammed her sunglasses on her nose and headed out. She felt calmer, more like herself. She'd put the whole unfortunate incident with Paul behind her and carry on as if they'd never connected. Her heart ached, refusing to agree with her head, but she ignored it.

The receptionist had already left and the foyer was dim. With sunglasses masking Jade's eyes, the way was very dark.

She hadn't reached more than halfway across the lobby when her thigh connected with the sharp corner of the receptionist's desk.

“Ouch!”

She recoiled, rubbing the hurting spot and briefly wishing for Marigold's magic arnica ointment to take away the pain and prevent an unsightly bruise. But Jade would never think such a thing. Maybe all these bumps were shaking her away, leaving Serendipity in her stead.

Off-balance, hopping sideways, she collided with a colleague. Who was it?

Manly hands grabbed her by the shoulders, steadying her.

“Watch out, Jade. A little early to be drinking, isn't it?”

Steve. The snide comment spoke volumes. Clearly she wasn't his favorite person at the moment. But then, apart from Suzy, she probably wasn't anybody's favorite person here at the agency.

She made a rush for the entrance, aiming at the front door. Even more thrown by the encounter with Steve, desperate to get out of there, she misjudged her direction and hit the wooden hat stand, which teetered, swayed, and began to topple. She made a grab to stop it, but the nasty thing had other plans. Instead, bentwood hooks and all, it went crashing down. With a bang and a swoosh, it landed on the floor, across her path. Hats and caps scattered near her toes. She stumbled over what she recognized to be Paul's denim jacket. Jade could feel hysteria, the pressure of emotion, the tears ready to burst forth. Surely she'd humiliated herself enough for one day?

“It's okay.” Suzy's low voice came from nearby.

Jade felt a steadying touch on her arm.

Suzy spoke louder. “I know you're in a hurry to get to that dentist appointment, Jade. You go and I'll pick all this up.”

Saved by Suzy. Again. Tomorrow she'd buy a bunch of flowers for her friend.

Outside, the bright, mid-afternoon sunshine took care of her vision problem but didn't do a whole lot for her despair and heartbreak. Four unsteady steps across the sidewalk and Jade opened the door to Betty's silver Mercedes. She sank gratefully into the gray leather seat, feeling as if she were the hat stand, and someone had pushed her over and trampled on her. Except the someone was herself.