Jinxed (20 page)

“Classy,” she snapped. “Your exact words have been: classy, sophisticated, regal, and sweet. None of which are acceptable.”

Rudy slapped a palm to his brow. “I lost track of time, didn’t I. It’s that time of month isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not that time of month.” Afia blew her bangs off of her forehead. “Honestly, Rudy, I just want to look, I want to be …”

“What?”

She slapped her hands to her sides in frustration. “Irresistible. Sexy. Hot! Is that so hard to understand?”

“No. Yes. I mean, this is the Summertime Gala, right? The coming together of the upper crust of Atlantic County? Any one of the four gowns you’ve modeled thus far would have sufficed. No. More than sufficed,” he said, holding up a hand in defense. “Perfect. They would have been perfect. Is there something wrong with perfect?”

“Yes. Perfect is boring.”

Rudy cocked a suspicious brow. “I thought you said this was a business date.”

“It is.” Her cheeks flushed. “Mostly.”

“Ah.” He stroked his goatee, his suspicions confirmed. “So you’re not looking to dazzle the
crème de le crème
, you’re looking to ‘wow’ Jake. I thought you decided against a fling.”

“I did. But I’m thinking I might have been hasty. Maybe I should stop fighting the attraction and see where it takes us. He’s a great guy.” She broke eye contact. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

She turned her back and rummaged through her clothing racks. “Everyone has flaws,” she mumbled.

“Absolutely.” Rudy sipped his smoothie and studied Afia. He had the distinct feeling that Jake’s “flaw” was at the heart of her reserved behavior these past two days. He thought back on the way the P.I. had given him the once over the day he’d picked her up on his bike. He’d sensed curiosity and a tinge of hostility. He’d chalked up the hostility to the fact that he’d broken up what looked like a cozy moment. He’d been amused, but maybe he’d misread the situation. “He doesn’t like me, does he?”

She sighed and, after a long minute, confessed. “He doesn’t know you. If he knew you, he’d like you. I’m sure of it.”

So there it was. The reason she’d nixed the seduction. The reason she’d avoided all talk of Jake. Until tonight anyway. Honestly, he didn’t give a damn if the P.I. liked him or not, but obviously it was crucial to Afia. Rudy set his glass alongside his book and pushed out of the recliner. He moved in behind his friend and braced one hand on the end of the rack while she continued her search. She didn’t look up. “Is he jealous?” he asked.

“What?”

“He’s attracted to you, and you’re living with two other men.”

“He doesn’t know about Jean-Pierre.”

“Does he know we’re … I’m gay?”

She nodded.

Now we’re getting somewhere
. “You told him?”

“No. But he’s pretty good at reading people.”

Rudy scrunched his brow. “So you think he took one look at me and assumed I’m queer. Most people don’t, you know.”

Her mouth curved into a soft smile. “Jake’s not most people.”

He noted the almost reverent tone in her voice. She really liked this guy, and she’d been putting him off because he disliked her best friend. His heart bumped up against his ribs as his affection for Afia swelled. “So, what? He out-and-out said he doesn’t like homosexuals?”

She frowned. “Not out-and-out.”

“So you’re assuming, basically.”

“I really don’t think I could have misunderstood.”

He placed a hand on her bare shoulder and squeezed. “But it’s possible.”

Her hands stilled, and at last she met his gaze. Confusion swam in those big brown eyes. “What if you’re right? What if Jake is this wholly incredible person, and we fool around, and it turns serious? Consider my track record. We could be walking through a casino, and,
Bam
! a chandelier could fall on his head! Or a wrecking ball could demolish the Bizby with him inside! What was I thinking? Sleeping with Jake would be selfish and thoughtless. With my luck—”

“Afia.” Rudy dipped his chin and spoke as calmly as possible. “When the odds are against you, trust your heart and seize the day.”

She blinked up at him, sighed, and quirked a lopsided grin. “Advice from one of your books?”

“Advice from me. Here,” he said, spying a glittering, slinky number. “If you want sexy try this.”

“Oh,” she said. Just
oh
. She took the hanger and disappeared into the bathroom.

Rudy stared after her feeling like a victim of a runway model’s meltdown. His thoughts flew to Jean-Pierre. How did the man cope? He dealt with emotional divas and wardrobe crises everyday. In truth, he was probably dealing with a few just now as he readied the dancers for tonight’s special performance. Since the Carnevale had booked a headliner for the weekend, the cast had expected to have the night off. Most of them, Jean-Pierre had pointed out, were happy to donate their time for a good cause. Rudy imagined Jean-Pierre trying to soothe the disgruntled few and took solace knowing he merely needed to appease one insecure female. No matter what Afia looked like when she came out of that bathroom, he was going to say she looked
hot
!

“Rudy!”

He rolled his eyes, tramped down the hall, planted his hands on either side of the jambs and spoke through the closed door. “Yes?”

“I have to adjust my makeup to suit the color of this gown. I’m trying to hurry, but if Jake gets here before I’m ready …”

“Stop worrying, honey.” He smiled, warmed to his bare feet by the sincere concern in his friend’s voice. “Jake and I are going to get along just fine.” He’d make sure of it.

Jake stared up at the star-filled sky and took a long drag off of his cigarette, seeking a dose of tranquility before he actually knocked on that townhouse door. He could do this. If Afia didn’t have a problem with him picking her up at her lover’s house, why should he? Not that he was all that convinced anymore that Gallow
was
her lover. He found it hard to believe that she’d jump into bed with one man when she was sleeping with another. It didn’t fit her character. And she definitely wanted to burn up the mattress with Jake. Hell, they’d practically done it on his desk. His heart pounded remembering the way she’d wrapped her legs around him, the way she’d succumbed to his touch. The only glitch was the affection he’d seen swimming in her eyes. If she fell in love he’d be screwed and not in a good way. What kind of future did they have? No future at all if she found out Harmon had hired him as her babysitter. He knew Afia well enough to know that she’d be hurt and furious.

He took another drag, sucking in the smoke, tamping down the guilt. If only he’d been able to resist her sexy innocence, to maintain professional distance, he might have survived this assignment with his dignity intact. Instead he’d dug a deeper hole by suggesting they have an affair. The moment she’d said, “
It’s not gonna happen
,” he’d known for a fact it was. He couldn’t think about next week, next month, or next year. He could barely wrap his mind around tomorrow.

He glanced at the door just as it opened, and Rudy Gallow stepped outside.

All of his energy was geared to navigating this moment.

“Got an extra?” Gallow motioned to Jake’s cigarette as he neared. “I haven’t smoked in years, but I could sure use one now.”

Jake reached into the inner pocket of his tuxedo jacket and pulled out a pack of Winstons. He offered Gallow the pack and a lighter, while noting his casual attire. Trendy, low-riding sweat pants and a tight fitting T-shirt that accentuated every muscle in his upper body. This guy was ripped. His biceps bulged with the simple effort of lighting a cigarette. If he wanted to kick Jake’s ass, he just might pull it off.

Gallow inhaled and passed him back the goods. “Nice tux,” he said, after blowing out a quick stream of smoke.

Jake could have said, “Thanks” or “Nice sweats.” He nodded, took another long drag instead.

“Right. Okay.” Gallow glanced up at the second story window. “Let’s do this before Afia realizes I’m missing.”

Jake snuffed his cig on the odds that Mr. Universe here was going to take a swing. He’d been caught off guard once today. Once was enough.

Gallow took another quick puff, and then chucked his cigarette as well. “I just happened to glance out the window and saw you. How long have you been out here?”

“A few minutes.”

“Anxious about your date?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Are you?”

Gallow furrowed his brow and then smiled. “Afia’s mistaken. I don’t think you know.”

Jake waited.

“I’m gay.”

He might as well have said, “I’m Elvis reincarnated.” The news couldn’t surprise him more.

Gallow braced his hands on his hips, dipped his chin. “Does that bother you?”

“No.” Hell no! It made his day.

Mr. Universe rolled back his broad shoulders and smiled. “Good. Somehow Afia got the impression that you’re a homophobe.”

“
You sound as if you don’t like Rudy
.”

“
I don’t
.”

“
But you don’t even know him
.”

“
I know his kind. That’s enough
.”

“Christ,” Jake mumbled, as several pieces of the puzzle snapped into place.

“I guess you know where she got that idea. Anyway, I’m glad she’s wrong. You see Afia’s protective of her friends. She doesn’t have many. There’s me and … Jean-Pierre.” He paused, massaged the back of his neck, and then nodded. “Yes, Jean-Pierre is definitely her friend. He’s our roommate. Also gay.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” And how was it possible that someone as sweet as Afia only had two friends?

“Because Afia likes you, and she won’t give whatever’s between the two of you a chance if she thinks you’re an asshole. You’re not, are you?”

“An asshole?” Jake smiled. “Depends on who you ask.”

Gallow laughed.

He’s not what he seems
. Jake should have listened to his gut on first meeting instead of letting his imagination run amok. Gallow wasn’t a taker, he was a
care
taker. So Afia had bought him that limousine. That didn’t mean that he’d accepted it without an argument. Or that he didn’t intend to somehow pay her back. He glanced at the moonlit townhouse. Maybe this was the payback. Taking her in when she didn’t have a place to stay. Nurturing their friendship when she’d lost her fortune. “You really care about her, don’t you?”

Gallow sobered. “Yes, I do.” He crossed his arms over his massive chest. “You?”

Jake didn’t flinch. “Yes.”

Gallow nodded then stroked his devilish goatee. “I have some other concerns, but they’ll have to wait.” He urged Jake toward the door. “Afia’s probably ready by now. A word of advice,” he said as they moved inside and climbed the stairs to the main floor. “I don’t care if she looks like a regal princess, tell her she looks hot.”

Jake didn’t comment on the advice, as he was busy taking in the surroundings. Modern, eclectic furniture popped with color—bright teal, muted orange, soft taupe. An impressive entertainment center boasted a vast collection of CDs and DVDs. Framed Broadway posters decorated the butter cream walls. There was a spacious, organized quality about the living room and kitchen.

In contrast, the dining room was a disaster. Boxes piled high. Racks crammed with clothing. Was this the sum of Afia’s material possessions? He thought about all she’d had, all she’d lost, and realized with a jolt that he’d never heard her whine about her situation. Not once. True, his house was old and in need of repair, his furnishings sparse, but each and every one was a treasured belonging. If he lost all he owned to creditors, he’d be heartsick. Was there nothing in her old life that she missed? Nothing that she treasured? And what was up with having only two friends, who were not even in her social circle? He had a sudden itch to interview Afia, to learn every aspect of her. Her hobbies. Her dreams. Really, what did he know?

He noted the industrial sewing machine and bolts of fabric. “Afia sews?”

Rudy shook his head. “No. Those belong to Jean-Pierre. He’s the costume designer and wardrobe master over at the Carnevale.”

“Ah,” Jake said with a smile. Afia’s snitch.

“Beer?” Rudy asked.

“Sure.” He hitched back his jacket and stuffed his hands in his pockets while following Gallow into the track-lit kitchen. “So, you and Jean-Pierre are a couple?”

“No.” Rudy glanced over his shoulder as he opened the refrigerator door and frowned. “What makes you say that?”

Jake shrugged. “This is a two bedroom place. I just assumed Afia had one room and—”

“Jean-Pierre and I are
not
sleeping together.”

“Okay.” Jake wondered at his terse tone, but let it slide. He wasn’t all that interested in this man’s love life, just ecstatic that Afia wasn’t a part of it.

“Afia sleeps on the couch,” he said, shutting the door and passing Jake a beer. “Glass?”

“No, thanks.”

“I worry about her back sometimes. I mean how comfortable can it be sleeping night after night on a couch? I wanted to give her my room, but she wouldn’t take it. She refused Jean-Pierre’s offer as well. Said she didn’t want to put us out. There’s no arguing with her. Trust me. We tried.” He clinked his bottle to Jake’s. “Cheers.”