Not Quite Dating (4 page)

Instead, Jessie leaned against the counter and folded her arms over her chest. “Jack, listen, I’m flattered.”

“You said that last night.”

“And you obviously didn’t listen. I’m flattered, but I’m not going to go out with you.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

Her hands fell to her hips. “If you know, then why are you here?”

“I’m so glad you asked,” he said. He patted the seat next to him. “Sit, let me explain.”

Something in the way his eyes followed her around told her he wasn’t completely dispelled from the thoughts of dating her. If sitting would hurry him along, then she might as well get it over with. Jack distracting her all night would end with fewer
tips than she needed.

When Jessie slid into the chair beside him, the scent of his cologne washed over her. Musk and spice, very masculine and very Jack.

Ignoring the fluttering in her stomach at sitting beside him, she said, “OK, explain.”

Tilting his hat back, Jack shifted in his seat to give his complete attention to her. “I’ve decided to help you.”

“Help me what?” She hadn’t asked for any help.

“Help you find the rich man of your dreams.”

Jessie’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“You said you only want to date rich men. Well, I know where you can find men like that, and I’m going to help you hook up with one.”

She’d never heard anything more ridiculous in her life. She didn’t even want to honor his words with a response. Jessie started to leave her seat when Jack stopped her by holding on to her arm. “I’m serious.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she snapped, doing her level best to ignore the heat of his touch.

“Just sit a minute and hear me out.”

Begrudgingly, Jessie sat back down and shook out of his hold.

“I realize you don’t want to date me. Which is a crying shame, since I think we’d get along great, but if I can’t convince you to go out with me, I can at least be a friend. Nothing wrong with having friends.”

“You and me…friends?”

“Friends. You have those, right?”

“Of course I have friends.” She wasn’t a complete loser. Yet when she thought about it, outside of her sister and a few waitresses at the diner, she didn’t know whom she’d call a friend. Most of her school friends had
all gone off to college or somewhere new mothers didn’t. Sadly, Jessie’s friendship pool was rather shallow.

“Great. Friends help friends.”

“And you want to help me?”

“Yep. Do you know where The Morrison is, over by the airport?”

“The hotel?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I know where it is.”

“Well, this Saturday night there’s a big Christmas cocktail party taking place. I happen to know plenty of deep pockets are going to be attending.”

She shook her head. “What are you suggesting?”

“I’ll get you in and point out the men who fit your wish list.”

The Morrison was a top-notch hotel that Jessie had never had the pleasure of visiting. She’d be lucky to afford a Motel 6. “Wait a minute. Let’s say you could get me in—not that I’d have anything to wear to a cocktail party at some fancy hotel, but let’s say you could. Why would a guy who admits to wanting to date me hand me over to a different guy?”

“I told you…I’m deeply wounded you don’t want to date me, but I get it.”

Deeply wounded.
Talk about overkill.

“I’m not your type,” he continued. “The least I can do is determine if there’s someone I can help hook you up with to make
you
happy.”

That all sounded well and good, but something wasn’t right about the proposition. “How exactly are you going to ‘get me in’?”

“I’m serving that night. I can slip you an invitation.”

So he waited on people for a living, too. “Won’t that jeopardize your job?”

He shrugged. “I’m not worried. It’s a temporary thing anyway.”

Still, something felt wrong. Jessie stood and
said, “Well, thanks anyway, but I don’t have anything to wear.”

“What if I can get you something?”

She cocked her head to the side, baffled. “How?”

“You wouldn’t believe the things people leave behind in high-end hotels. I found this watch once, cost about two thousand dollars. Some guy just left it on the counter in the bathroom.”

“Didn’t you try and get it back to him?”

“It was in the lobby bathroom. We left it in the lost and found for months, but no one claimed it.”

“So you took it.”

“No, I wore it a couple of times, then I put it back.”

He borrowed it. “Are you saying women leave evening gowns at the hotel?”

“All the time.” His boyish smile was growing on her. It wasn’t as if she’d find a rich husband, or boyfriend for that manner, waiting tables at Denny’s.

“I don’t know…”

Jack stood and stepped close to her. He was a good four inches taller than she was, and Jessie wasn’t exactly short.

“What are you, a size eight, ten?”

“Eight, not that it’s any of your—”

“Business,” he finished for her. “I know.” His white teeth flashed in a grin. “Shoe size?”

She was still stuck on giving out her dress size to a stranger. At nearly five eight, being a size eight was perfect. Still, saying it aloud left a bad taste behind her tongue.

“Well?”

“What was the question?”

“Shoe size?”

“They leave shoes, too?”

“Sometimes.”

“Seven. I wear a
seven in shoes.” That was easier to say.

“We’re good then.”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, Jessie. What do you have to lose? A fancy night out, plenty of champagne, wine, shrimp cocktail, fruit, cheese, the works. All free.”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re not working, Leanne already told me.”

Jessie shot Leanne a dirty look from across the restaurant. “Traitor,” she mumbled.

Jack nudged her with his elbow. “I’ll bring the dress Thursday morning.”

“Geez, did Leanne tell you my whole schedule?”

“Pretty much. I’ll bring the dress and the invitation. All you have to do is show up.”

“I won’t know anyone.”

“You’ll know me.” He winked at her and her stomach did a small roll in return. What did she have to lose? She could show up, have a glass of wine, and leave if it felt wrong being there.

“Oh, all right. I’ll go.”

“That’s my girl.” Jack pulled out his wallet and placed a ten on the counter.

“I’m not your girl.”

Jack chuckled. “Right. See ya on Thanksgiving, Jessie.”

Samuel Fields, the Ontario Morrison
Hotel manager, sat behind the desk from Jack with his back rod-straight and his lips forced into a tight smile. His three-piece suit fit perfectly around his shoulders, his tie impeccably neat. He’d been the manager of the Ontario hotel for over ten years, since its inception. Unless the man wanted a different view, he’d be there for the next ten. “It feels strange with you on the other side of this desk, Mr. Morrison.”

“Not sure why that would bother you, Sam. This is your office, not mine.”

“Yes, I guess it is.”

“I’m really not one who lords over things. My stay in Ontario will keep me here throughout the holidays. Once the initial construction is set in motion for ‘More for Less,’ I’ll be returning to Texas.”

“It’s been some time since anyone in your family has used the penthouse suite. I hope it meets your needs.”

The penthouse
family
suite took up nearly half the west tower’s top floor. Like in all the Morrison hotels, the family suite was just that: a suite the family could use to either sleep in during an overnight stay or as a perk for the many dignitaries that Jack and his father, Gaylord, associated with throughout the world. The Morrisons informed the hotels when the suites would be used and allowed the hotels to book them on the other days of the
year. The suite had three bedrooms, three bathrooms, a full gourmet chef’s kitchen, dining room, and living quarters. The veranda and patios overlooked the airport and the flickering lights of the Inland Empire. The space could easily accommodate a house party of a hundred people, not that Jack was planning such an event. Deep mahogany hardwood floors covered the living and dining rooms. Plush sofas sat across from each other while occasional chairs and heavily wooded wrought-iron tables filled out the space. Live plants filled corners, and fresh flowers sat in vases by the front door and in the kitchen. At night, when the floor-to-ceiling windows that covered two walls couldn’t let light in, up lighting, down lighting, and recessed lighting could be used to set any mood.

Unlike any other room at the hotel, this one felt like home.

In Houston, his home took the entire top-floor penthouse, nearly double the size of the one he was in now. Living in a hotel wasn’t something he’d planned. In reality, he lived in the hotel only half the year. The other half was spent at his father’s or in hotels like the one he was in now.

His father’s estate sat on over five hundred acres; the sprawling ranch house screamed Texas in every way. He loved being there. Yet something about being a grown man living with his father never settled comfortably inside of Jack.

One day, Jack wanted to set down roots of his own. Roots he would plant firmly on the ground floor. He loved the open plains of Texas and hoped whomever he chose to be by his side would love the land as much as he did. Then he could find his own oasis to return to instead of the never-ending hotel suites.

“I’ve sent out the invitations as you requested,” Sam told him.

“Did you open up access for the employees to rent appropriate attire?”

“Yes.” Sam nodded. “The local tux rental and
women’s boutique in the shop downstairs was told to allow any employee with a badge to rent an outfit for free over this weekend.”

Good.
“Actually, Sam, let’s keep that invitation open throughout the holidays.” Jack thought of Jessie. “I’d like the employees to use the service, and if they can’t make it to the benefit party this Saturday, they might be able to make it to another over the next month.”

Sam’s face clouded over. “Are you sure, sir? I mean, what if the clothes are ruined? It could cost the hotel quite a bit of money.”

Jack huffed. “Have some faith. Most people care for other people’s property better than their own. We’ll deal with individual issues as they come up.”

“If you say so, sir.”

“Please, call me Jack. That reminds me. On Saturday, I’ll be taking part in the employee/employer swap as well. I’ll need a uniform.”

Sam’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, Mr. Morrison, I mean Jack, are you sure?”

“It’s good for morale. Every staff person who usually wears a suit and tie is going to be wearing waiters’ uniforms, and the cleaning staff will be in evening gowns. The only paid guests are those we’ve invited, all of whom know the staff and management have swapped roles for the night. My name tag will say Jack, so please don’t call me Mr. Morrison. It will be fun, you’ll see. You might even learn a thing or two about your employees and yourself before the night is over. When was the last time you served food from the kitchen?”

“I’ve never had the pleasure.” From the twisted expression on the man’s face, it wasn’t a pleasant thought.

“Well then, you’ll be shocked at the pressure your waiters are under.” Jack ignored Sam’s scowl. Jack had held a similar party the previous year in the hotel he lived
in full time. The next day, the staff returned to their normal jobs appreciating their colleagues’ titles a little more.

It was the perfect setup to bring Jessie to. She would think he was a cocktail waiter, a transient one at that, and he could wait on her for a change. He thought of the single men on the guest list, the ones he planned to point out to her. Admittedly, Jack didn’t think any of them were her type, but maybe after seeing her options, she’d consider dating him.

Of course, someone could blow the whole thing by calling him out, but Jack hoped he could keep his identity a secret long enough to get to know the real Jessie. She might be hard on the outside, but he was betting on her insides being all soft and comfortable. All he had to do was needle under her skin until she couldn’t stand it anymore.

Jack stood and offered his hand to Sam.

Sam shook it. “We’ll be decorating the hotel on Friday. Would you like us to supply a tree for your suite?”

“That would be nice. Nothing too fancy. Traditional red and green would be great.”

“I’ll see to it, sir.”

Jack detoured past the bank of elevators to the women’s boutique.
Time to shop for Jessie.
Only he wasn’t sure what to pick out.

Behind the counter was an older woman, about sixty, he guessed, with graying hair and glasses perched on her nose. She saw him walking in and offered a kind smile. “Can I help you?”

Jack shrugged out of his suit jacket and laid it over a chair in the middle of the showroom. “I’ll bet you can,” he told her. “I’m looking for an evening gown.”

She lifted the glasses off her nose and placed them behind the counter. “We have plenty of those. Anything in particular?”

“Something classy, nothing too fussy.”

“Will this be to rent, or will you be buying
this for your lady friend?”

Jack glanced over to a rack of long dresses. “Buying.”

“OK, then. My name’s Sharon, by the way.”

“Jack,” he told her, leaving his last name out on purpose.

“What size is the woman we are dressing?”

“She’s a size eight. She’s comes up to about yea high.” He lifted his hand to his nose. “Light brown hair and hazel eyes. Shoe size is seven.”

“OK, since she’s not here, might I give a suggestion?”

“Of course, Sharon, that’s why I asked you.”

She smiled. “Floor-length formals really do have to fall all the way to the floor, with the lady’s shoes on. Since she isn’t here for a fitting, I’d suggest something just as elegant, only at a three-quarter length.”

“You mean so the dress will show off her legs?” Jessie had amazing legs—what he could see of them from under the hideous Denny’s uniform.

“Right.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Why don’t you have a seat, Jack, and I’ll pull a few things from the rack. Is there a budget we’re trying to stay within?”

Jack sat in the chair. “You just show me what you have, don’t worry about price.”

Sharon smiled, lifted her eyebrows, and then disappeared behind the drapes separating the store from the small storage room. When she returned, she brought a rolling pole and proceeded to show him half a dozen dresses.

“Hazel eyes spark with a little color,” she told him. She displayed an emerald green off-the-shoulder dress with sequins down the neck.

“Not that one.” It reminded him of a Christmas tree without a star.

The next one had only one shoulder sleeve, leaving
the second shoulder bare. He liked the red silk, and the slit up the thigh had him imagining the possibilities. “Maybe,” he said.

Sharon placed it on a separate rack than the green one.

A cream skintight number with an open
V
at the top would be nice, but he knew from his own experience that most women stayed away from white. A silver sequin would be perfect for a New Year’s Eve party, but not right for Jessie on Saturday.

“What about this?” Sharon saved the best for last. “Women love wearing black and this one has the one-shoulder look you liked in the red. A simple slit up the back will keep the woman wearing it dancing throughout the night. I even have a wrap the lady can wear over her shoulders should she get cold.”

Perfect. Not too daring or suggestive. Elegant and slightly understated, but with Jessie’s figure, it would pop once she stepped in it. “You have shoes to match?”

“Of course. I even have a nice pair of jeweled earrings that will dangle from your lady’s ears. I don’t think a necklace will work with this neckline. If you’re against costume jewelry, Mitch over in fine jewelry has the real thing. He’s just down the hall.”

The image of Jessie walking toward him in the dress danced in his head. He could hardly wait. “I’ll take it.”

“And the earrings?”

“I’ll have to think about that,” he told her. If he were to show up with diamond earrings, Jessie would likely think ill of him. The last thing he needed was for Jessie to think he was a thief. She’d be a lot more comfortable in costume jewelry anyway, he told himself. Still, he didn’t really care for the sound of fake anything associated with Jessie.

Jack stood and reached for his wallet. From the front of the boutique, Sam walked in with a phone in his hand. “There you are, Mr. Morrison. Sorry to interrupt.”

Hearing his name, Sharon’s gaze narrowed before shooting
up in surprise.

“No problem, Sam.”

“Mr. Morrison is on the phone, said he needed to talk to you.”

Jack reached for the phone Sam held. “Would you mind putting all this on here?” he asked Sharon, handing her his credit card.

She glanced at the card, then back to him. “Of course.”

“Hello, Dad,” Jack said as he placed the receiver to his ear. He turned away from the clerk and braced himself for his father’s outburst.

“Jack, what’s this I hear about you not coming home for Thanksgiving?” Gaylord’s gruff voice filled the earpiece of the phone, causing Jack to pull it away from his ear.

“I have a lot to do here. Getting away isn’t smart right now.”

“Horseshit, son. No one works on Thanksgiving.”

“Lots of people work over the holiday,” he corrected. “The hotels don’t close.”

“Still doesn’t mean you have to be there. The hotels run themselves.”

“I’ll try and get home for Christmas,” Jack offered.

“Try? Trying isn’t good enough. Aunt Bea won’t know what to do with herself if you aren’t here to cook for.”

Jack smiled, thinking of his aunt’s easy smile and quiet disposition. How she and his father were both children of the same parents and yet turned out so differently had always been a mystery. “Is Katie home?”

“Barely; she’s here but gone most of the time.” Disappointment laced Gaylord Morrison’s words. Neither Katie nor Jack spent as much time at the ranch as their father would have liked.

“I’ll give her a call and see if I can reel her in. I should have a break midmonth. I’ll come home for a few days then. Tell Aunt Bea to save some pie for me.”

His father grumbled a little more, but finally relented
and hung up.

Strange how things had changed over the years. Gaylord had been an absentee father most of Jack’s childhood, building the hotel chain and taking over other, weaker chains, all of which took time and years. With Gaylord’s advancing age came the realization of what he had missed. Now he wanted it back. At least that’s what Jack thought. Had Jack told him the real reason he wasn’t returning to Texas for the holiday, Gaylord would be having his pilot fire up his jet so he could meet Jack’s lady friend.

Jack didn’t need that.

“All set to go, Mr. Morrison,” Sharon told him while she handed back his card and the box. “I went ahead and put in the earrings, no charge. Although it seems crazy charging you for anything at all…considering.”

“It’s all good, Sharon. It’s been a pleasure.” Jack tucked the box under his arm and left the boutique with a smug smile.

Unlike any other time he’d bought something for a woman he was attracted to, this time he’d done it for the sole purpose of making her happy. He wasn’t doing it to find a lover…not completely, anyway. In reality, he hadn’t taken a lover since Heather. Not because Heather broke something inside of him, but because he couldn’t see past the plastic facade the women he’d met wore.

And plastic no longer held any appeal.