Knave of Broken Hearts (24 page)

“Not really. I’m aware that Constance likes me, if that’s what you mean. So?”

“So, Constance’s father is very protective of his daughter.”

Jim held up a hand. “He’s got nothing to worry about from me. I just want to do a good job. I have no designs on his daughter, so tell him to quit chewing his fingernails and butt out.”

His father sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. “And what if it was advantageous to you to have
designs
on her, as you so euphemistically put it?”

“What the hell are we talking about and how does this have anything to do with Ian—or did you just say that to get me here?”

“What I’m saying is that Alex Murch is in favor of you dating his daughter. In fact, he’d like to see a more long-term, even permanent, relationship develop.”

“What the fuck?”

His father sat forward, frowning. “Control your disgusting mouth, James.”

Jim met him eye to eye. “Constance can get her own boyfriends. Her father doesn’t have to pimp her out.”

“Apparently not. She is very picky and has devoted her life to her work. She’s reached thirty-five with no real marriage prospects on the horizon.”

“Lots of women do.”

“Yes, well, Constance likes you. Hard for me to understand, but I gather many of her previous suitors have been gold diggers and she likes that you aren’t. Trust me, I assured Alex that you had zero interest in money.” He snorted. “Anyway, Alex is prepared to be very grateful if you continue to date his daughter.”

His eyebrows practically crawled into his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“For one thing, he’ll endow the club with a much needed multimillion-dollar grant.”

“Why needed?”

His face got icy. “That’s not your concern, but he’s also prepared to give your little company a lot of work and bring you into his business. He’ll train you and, if things work out, even put you in a senior position that could have real chops when he retires.” His father leaned forward, his handsome face looking like he smelled something bad. “It’s a rare opportunity for someone like you.”

“And why are you telling me this and not him?”

“I think he senses you might turn him down.”

“Then he senses right. I like Constance. I admire her and wish her well, but I’m not for sale. I have my own life. Tell him you tried.” He stood.

“Sit down, James.”

“Why?”

“Because you haven’t heard the price of your purchase yet.”

Not good.
He sat slowly.

His father leaned forward, eyes glittering. “I believe you know your brother has his heart set on attending architecture school at Berkeley.”

No, please. Don’t say this.

His father smiled, and Jim’s heart hammered.
Don’t say it. Don’t.
“If you do this—if you make your business lunches with Constance Murch into actual dates and turn this into a long-term relationship, I’ll send your brother to Berkeley with bells on. Full tuition, housing, spending money, a vehicle, recommendations for the best internships, the works.”

“You bastard.”

He pressed a hand to his chest. “I think it’s a very generous offer.”

“It’s what you should do for him anyway. He’s your son.”

“I’m doubly generous. I’m letting you do it for him. Of course, he’ll never know that. And you won’t tell anyone else about this arrangement. No one.”

The screaming inside his head got so loud, he couldn’t hear himself. “People will think it’s strange.”

“Strange? She’s an attractive woman, and Alex will shower you with so many rewards you won’t have time to feel dirty.” His father laughed.

J
IM
SAT
in his truck on the side of the road outside the Pelican Hill gate and shook.
Want to talk to somebody.
No one. His father’s voice rang in his head.

Can’t do this. Can’t do this. Can’t.

Shit, the old man couldn’t even know what his plan would do to Jim. He just thought he was arranging Jim’s life for him, and he knew Jim would hate that. No way he could understand he was condemning Jim to misery and breaking his heart. Sweet Jesus, he’d be so happy if he knew.

He dropped his head on the steering wheel.
Ken. Oh God, Ken.

Come on, he won’t miss you. He’ll move on in one day.

He picked up his phone and held it against his chest.
But I won’t.

A tapping on the truck’s window brought his head up, and he stared into a flashlight. Behind it he could just make out the security guard from the gate. He rolled the window a couple of inches. “Yeah.”

“No loitering in this vicinity. Would you please move on?”

The top of his head exploded. “Fuck you!” He smashed his fist against the window, the edge of the phone caught the glass just right and cracked it into a spiderweb of pieces, as the perfect pain seared up his arm, into his shoulder, and out though his brain. He cranked the key, stomped the gas, and pulled out as a Porsche wheeled around the corner. The Porsche skidded to the side as Jim floored it, and the old truck showed it was pissed too as it sailed down the road toward the ocean, leaving the sports car driver leaning on his horn. His hand hung at his side.
Oh shit, that hurts. Hurts.
Good.

I could go to Ken’s. He’d fix it. I could tell him everything. Maybe he’d fix that too?
His hand trembled
. Why would he do that? Take on the chairman and board member of the club he loves? Take on a doctor who could ruin his career? For a casual date with no future? Shit, why?

He could practically hear the discomfort in Ken’s voice, feel his embarrassment at having to tell Jim that no way was he wrecking his life for a quick lay.

Before he could crap out, he switched the phone to his left hand on the wheel and pushed the speed dial number. He heard the ringing.

Ken sounded happy. “Hi, baby, on your way to see me? I made some salads. I know, you hate anything healthy, but I promise to slather them with blue cheese.”

“Can’t. Can’t come. I’m so sorry. Family matter.”

“Oh hell. I’m really sad not to see you, but I sure know about family. Can we get together tomorrow night?”

“No. No. I’m going to be tied up. Oh God, tied up for a while, quite a while.” Bile rose up his throat, and somehow his face got wet.

“Jim, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just hurt my hand. But I’m fine. Thanks. Thanks for everything.”

“Jim, wait—”

“Can’t.” He clicked off, pulled to the side of PCH, jumped out, and puked his guts all over the scrub grass beside the highway that led to Crystal Cove.

When his heaves turned dry, he dragged himself back into the truck.
Never felt this empty.

Get used to it, asshole.

He drove slowly. The road looked like water. What had he said to Ken? He couldn’t remember. And what the hell was he going to tell Ian? He arched over the wheel and tried to press his back hard against the seat. His chest hurt.

Finally, he pulled into his parking space.
Could sleep here. Pretend to Ian that I spent the night with Ken. No, he’d find out.

Oh God, want to spend the night with Ken. What if I just forget the whole thing? Turn around and drive to Ken’s?

And forget you could have given your brother the thing he wants most?

He crawled out of the truck, hand throbbing like an open wound, and walked slowly up the stairs to the apartment. With his key in the lock and the door half-open, he heard a giggle. Oh shit, he’d forgotten about Rico. He closed the door and headed back to the stairs.

“Jim? Where are you going?”

He stopped and turned toward Ian, who stood in the doorway with Anderson peering out from beside his feet. His brother looked puzzled but not pissed. Jim tried to smile. “Sorry. I forgot about your date. I’ll be back later.”

“Hell, no. We’re just watching TV. Come on, it’s your apartment.”

He should go get drunk, but all he could think about was sleeping. “I’ll just go to bed. Won’t be in your way at all.” He walked toward the door, trying to keep his hand from bouncing.

“What happened? Why aren’t you on your date?”

“Uh, something came up for Ken.” He shrugged. “Like I told you, he’s got a lot going on.” He stepped inside and saw Rico sitting on the old couch. Sure enough, the TV was on with a movie on pause. He even had all his clothes on. “Hey, Rico.”

“Hi, Jim.”

Ian closed the door behind him. “Jeez, I’m sorry.” He grabbed Jim’s arm, and Jim flinched. “What?” He got a look at Jim’s hand that was slowly swelling to the size of a loaf of bread. “What the hell happened?”

“I, uh, got distracted and closed it in the door of the truck.”

“Jesus, Jim. This looks bad.”

“Looks worse than it feels.”

“That’s such a lie. Do you think it’s broken?”

“No. I can move all my fingers. Hurts like hell, but they move.” Having the phone in his hand probably saved him. Didn’t do the truck window any good.

Ian gently held Jim’s hand. “Rico, get some ice from the freezer. There are some plastic bags in the bottom drawer on the right.” Rico hopped up and trotted into the kitchenette. Ian looked at Jim. “Come on, let’s get you undressed, into bed, and some ice on this hand.”

That sounded better than anything—if he couldn’t be in bed with Ken.
God, don’t think about that.

A half hour later, he lay in bed, tucked in by his brother, the ice both hurting and feeling good. “Sorry I wrecked your date.”

Ian sat on the edge of the bed and grinned. “You didn’t wreck it. It’s just getting started. Actually, we were kind of watching a movie but mostly working on this design Rico needs to finish for a client of his firm.”

“You’re giving him free advice, huh?” He smiled.

“It’s fun for me.”

He touched Ian’s hair with his good hand. “You’re going to be such a great architect.”

He nodded. “Right. One way or the other.” He stood. “Now get some sleep.”

“Thanks, bro. Glad to have you in my life.”

“Back atcha.” He closed the door softly as he left.

Jim stared after Ian. Funny how the kid had become so important to him. But those were the facts, and he wasn’t going to let more bad shit happen to Ian. He slipped out of bed, setting the ice on the floor, and padded to his laptop naked. He found the e-mail from Constance where she had given him directions. He hit Reply and typed with his left hand,
Look forward to seeing you Friday.

His hand trembled over the keypad. He stabbed his finger down on Send, closed the cover of the laptop, and dropped his head onto it.

K
EN
SLAMMED
the door on the Lexus and beeped the lock as he hurried toward the building. Jim had to be there by now. He’d wanted to arrive earlier, but he had to make a stop at the hospital. It was after nine, which meant Jim would have been working for hours—assuming he was even at the job site. God, he’d sounded so awful last night. Maybe something was wrong with his brother? Ken wanted to run over to his apartment, but, shit, they hadn’t even had a first date exactly. He couldn’t go intruding on a family emergency. Jim would have asked him for help if he wanted it—wouldn’t he?
You’re crap at this relationship thing, Tanaka.
But he didn’t want to be. He’d tell Jim he wanted to help.

Inside the building he stopped and looked at his watch. Only ten minutes until his first appointment, but he’d cancel if Jim needed him. He hurried over to the lobby suite and pushed open the door. Three guys looked busy painting and installing baseboards, but no Jim. He looked at the nearest worker. “Excuse me, have you seen Jim Carney?”

The man shook his head and Ken backed out, slammed the door, and headed to the elevator, where he pumped the up button three times. “Come on.”

Jumping out on eight, he followed the dusty footprints on the carpet to the suite they were renovating. If Jim wasn’t there, maybe he should try his apartment. Hell, if Ian was sick, he was a doctor, for crap’s sake.

Plastic hung in front of the door to the suite. He pushed it aside—and stopped.

The tableau spread in front of him could have been taken from the cover of a romance novel. Jim stood in the center of the room with Constance holding his hand in one of hers and her other palm against his forehead. But it wasn’t just the posture. She looked at him with total possession. A few of the guys on ladders looked at them with smirks.

He wanted to sink into the woodwork. He wanted to kill Constance Murch.

Before he could do either, she looked up. “Oh thank God, Dr. Tanaka. Look at what Jim’s done to himself. Please.”

Jim glanced up. Their eyes met. Jim’s dropped.

“Ken, look.” Her voice sounded strained, like the deep concern of a lover.

Slowly he sleepwalked across the dusty suite, hammers ringing in the background. Held delicately in Constance’s hand, Jim’s paw glowed black-and-blue at twice its normal size. “What happened?”

Jim’s voice sounded far away. “Car door.”

He glanced up but couldn’t keep the edge from his voice. “During your family emergency?”

“Uh, yes.”

Constance relinquished his hand to Ken. “Did you have a family problem?”

Jim nodded. Ken felt around carefully on the hand. “Does this hurt?”

“Like hell.”

“Can you move your middle finger?”

“Yeah.” It wiggled slightly.

Ken let go, and his own hand clenched. He wanted to run, or he’d make more parts of Jim Carney black-and-blue. “You should have it x-rayed, but it’s probably not broken.”

Constance took his injured hand in hers again. “But hands are so delicate. I think we should get you to the lab right away and then to an orthopedist or even a hand specialist. After all, Dr. Tanaka specializes in hearts.” She smiled. “Not hands.”