Dancing Barefoot (16 page)

Chapter Ten

Arson.
The word gnawed at her as she surveyed the smoke swirling into the night. The fire department had been able to salvage a great deal of the structure, but she'd need to wait until the scene was cleared to get a clear assessment of the situation. Her mind clicked away juggling her original design with possible changes. Sincore wanted construction underway sooner rather than later. Charlie was on site, going on and on about how she'd be able to have a new design ready by next Monday.

Monday
? What am I? A miracle worker?

She crossed her arms across her chest and stared at
the last remaining fire truck. It was midnight and she ached to be home. Being in charge sucked, she decided.

"Charlie called me when he couldn't get a hold of you," Marc said from behind her. "I went to the office, copied off your latest changes from this afternoon, and brought them back. Hope you don't mind, I figured out your password, and helped myself."

She turned slowly at the sound of his voice. Oh, she minded. He'd hacked her computer? He could have come to her apartment, called her landline himself. After the argument they'd had after he'd been assigned to her team, she couldn't believe he stood here looking so smug.

"
I'll need to change my passwords more often," she muttered. "Why did you need anything from my office? I don't understand. I'm going to need to tweak things after the fire."

"I already did a bit." He shrugged. "I took the liberty of glancing at your changes from this afternoon, had already been by here when it was full out blazing, and thought I'd be proactive. Don't worry...I'm letting you take the credit. After all, it's your project."

"Yeah, it is." An uncomfortable churning began deep in her gut and burned upward. "Never do that again. Because it's my project, my name is on it all the way through and I need to sign off on any changes."

Marc ignored her and
walked over to talk to one of the firemen. 

She moved to Charlie's side as he talked to the clients. Millions of dollars were at stake with this project. She'd known going into it that the site had been shut down due to problems with the last firm hired, understood from the beginning about time constraints, but this would be an insane rush.  She needed inside the building first thing in the morning with the engineers...if the site was clear by then, which looked doubtful.

She took a moment to thumb through all of the texts she'd received during the night while she'd turned the cell phone off—unheard of for her—and indulged herself with Jacques Sinclair.

Ava had sent several, first asking about Jacques' whereabouts and then warning her that Simone had come to Boston early. One from Miranda asking about the
canvases, another from Sela about the 'sexy photographer'. None from Marc.

Charlie and her assistant, Alex, had left numerous voicemails, however. She cringed. She'd had one helluva first day as associate partner. 

"How did you know about this?" she asked Marc, suddenly doubting his story. After what she had learned from Charlie, why would he even be in the top two on the call list?

"I told you." He squinted. "Since when do you turn your phone off? What were you doing...or should I say who? Does your absence have anything to do with some Euro-trash who happens to be in town?"

"Answer my question. How did you get here so fast?"

"Why? Do you think I burned the place down?" He laughed and looked toward the firemen returning their gear to the truck.

"Jessica—" Charlie motioned for her to join the men from Sincore. 

She walked to the group, con
scious of Marc's gaze on her back. She didn't know what had gotten into him lately, but she wasn't going to risk her promotion because of a one-sided competition he had invented.

They wouldn't be able to go inside the building until tomorrow, but all outward signs indicated that she'd have major reconstruction to the front portion of the building only. If there was good news, that was it. Of course, the engineers would need to investigate any hidden structural damage before work could begin. No, they didn't want to alter the deadlines. Endless nights were in her future.

When another text arrived from Ava saying that everyone was worried about Jacques, she cringed. Instead of texting, she stepped away from the group, shoved her hands through her unruly curls, and called back.

"Oh, thank God. We can't find him anywhere. I'm afraid he's left the country," Ava said in on
e breath. "I was too pushy. I—"

"He's fine. Don't worry about him."  She stood in the shadows and watched Marc take her place with the Sincore group.

"Is he with you?" Ava asked after a pause.

"He's at my apartment. I had a work emergency."

"What kind of work emergency does an architect have?"

"Good question." She gnawed her lower lip when Marc laughed at something the other men said. "You need to stop worrying about Jacques, though."

  "Simone is here—"

"I don't care about Simone." She shook her head when Marc handed his business card to her client. Well, technically, the firm's client but she could see how this was playing out. The good ol' boys were making nice. "I can't talk right now. I only called so that you would stop worrying. He hasn't left the country or done anything drastic. He's in my apartment and I asked him to wait for me."

"But Simone—"

"Honestly, Ava, I'm in the middle of something. We'll talk tomorrow." She ended the call without taking her gaze from Marc's back.

It wasn't until Charlie and the Sincore men left that she grabbed Marc's arm and swung him around to face her.

"I've always had your back—"

"And I have yours that's why I'm here," Marc finished her sentence. "What are you thinking? Would I sabotage you, Mori? Has your one day of success clouded your judgment?"

History conflicted with instinct. She doubted his sincerity, but why? Lack of sleep or paranoia? This was Marc, her friend.

"You never tried to call me. I checked my messages and texts. None from you." She shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her jacket without breaking eye contact.

"Your sudden rise to the top has changed you already." He snapped his fingers within an inch of her face. "Just like that, you're ready to point fingers. What exactly are you accusing me of, burning down the building?"
      She wished she knew. Instead of answering she turned and strode to her motorcycle. With a roll of her shoulders, she settled onto the seat.

"You lied, let's start there. Not once did you try to get in touch with me..." she shoved a hand through her hair and sighed, "and you hacked my computer, which is not okay with me."

"Hacked is a strong word. I know you well, Mori, so it's not like it was impossible to figure out your passwords." He leaned close and twisted a finger in her hair that curled against her chin. "I also know you well enough to recognize what you look like after a satisfying sex fest. Let me guess, you and the Frenchman making up for lost time?"

"He's Belgian."

"So I'm right?" He dropped his hand from her and shook his head. "You're jeopardizing your future to be some photographer's plaything while he's in town, but then what? He goes off to do whatever it is he does and you'll be out of a job and alone. Sounds like a great plan."

"
Screw you." She turned on her heel and walked toward her bike.

He grabbed her elbow and twisted her around to face him. "
You're pissed off at me about the other day on the boat, right? You wanted more from and it took me too long to understand. You're lashing out. I get it."

"There's nothing to get." She shook her arm free.

"We could be partners, start our own firm, and get married. That's what my parents have always expected would happen." He smiled and stretched his arms out to his sides. "Look at me—I've been your best friend for over a decade, why not take it up a notch?"

His behavior was beyond weird and bordered on desperation. She didn't like it.

"Give it a rest, Marc. As for this fiasco tonight, I don't know what to think, but we need to establish some boundaries going forward."

"Boundaries?" His smile faded. "Just like that you're putting me in my place.
Boundaries?
"

"Don't make me ask Charlie to take you off my team." She grabbed her helmet from the back of her bike and winced at his snort of laughter.

"My God, who are you? A week ago you were normal Jessica, now you're some power hungry bitch whose sleeping with her ex-lover and ditching her best friend." He grabbed the handlebars and stared her down.

"We'll have a team meeting first thing, don't be late." She
straddled the bike and stared back. "We need to talk one of these days, sort some things out that have nothing to do with work."

"
I won't let this happen." He closed the small space separating them and frowned. "You've always had this superior attitude, but I have no idea why. I know where you come from, I'm the only one who knows everything about you. I stopped this bullshit with the photographer once before and I'll do it again. As for this promotion of yours, you and I both know it should have been mine. I'm getting tired of playing nice with you."

"Stop it, we've come too far to resort to nastiness. We're friends."

"Best friend Marc who you like to fuck when it suits you. Right. I'm just here waiting for Queen Jessica to snap her fingers so I can do her bidding. Thanks for reminding me." He nodded with a grin, his eyes hidden in night shadows. He tapped the back of her bike as he moved behind it.

She thought about him as she sped home down quiet middle of the night Boston streets. Charlie had pointedly asked if he'd be a problem working on the project
, but she'd vouched for him. Everyone in the office knew they were friends, rumors had them opening their own firm one day, so how far fetched would it be that Charlie had called him when she'd been unreachable? Maybe her rattled emotions were playing havoc with her judgment after all.

She walked through the back entrance from the garage, mind cluttered with thoughts and
trepidation. She couldn't shake the feeling that her carefully laid plans were coming to a crossroads.

Laughter from the front steps made her hesitate with keys in her hand. Jacques lounged against the front railing, cigarette in his hand, while he laughed at something Sam said.

He'd waited.

Smiling, she tossed her things inside her apartment before
walking toward them. Seeing him laughing with ease on the steps of her building twisted her heart into knots.

"I like your boyfriend," Sam said with a grin when she joined them. "He's telling me about
how you two used to run from the cops in Italy. I had no idea you were such a law breaker."

Jacques grinned at her through a veil of smoke and winked.

"You're quite the storyteller these days, aren't you?" She grabbed the cigarette from his fingers and took a long drag without breaking eye contact. She hadn't smoked since Italy, but tonight she needed to take the edge off.

"And you smoke?" Sam tilted his head back and laughed loud in the night. "Man, this night keeps getting better. I always thought you were this hardass health nut, now I find out that you
are an outlaw in Europe and smoke."

"I don't smoke." She handed the cigarette back to Jacques.

"Neither do I." He smiled before lifting it to his lips.

It hit her like a force of nature and nearly took her off her feet. She loved him as much today as she had
five years ago. Time hadn't diminished anything. She stood in front of him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and looked into his eyes.

"I
worried you wouldn't stay."

Sadness shrouded his eyes. "I'm wa
iting for a taxi. I need to go."

Her heart sunk as quickly as it had soared. Feet back on the ground, she leaned her hip on the railing and faced him.
There were so many things she wanted to say...words wanted to spill out like
..."let's run off to Vegas and seal the deal"..."I'm such an idiot for ever doubting you"..."never leave me"..."I still love you"..."screw my job and Boston and all of it and let's go back to Florence"...and "I'm so scared this will end again."

But she couldn't say those words, perhaps she'd never be able to because of the neediness they implied. She'd never depended on anyone in her life and Jacques exuded a quiet strength she simply wanted to melt into. He'd always been her weakness, and that worried her more than anything else he could ever say or do.

"Well, I'd better go in. Good talking to you. I'll prop the door open, Jessie," Sam said before leaving them alone in the night.

"What's the matter?" He framed the side of her face with his palm. "What happened with your emergency?
You smell like you have been in a fire."