The Love Laws (18 page)

She loved this
place but today she was meeting a realtor to see about selling their former home.

The property
had been left to both girls in the Martin's Will but Jessica hadn't been able
to come here since the funeral. She had given Jamie her explicit blessing to
sell the place if the proceeds from the sale would keep Hidden Treasures alive.

Jamie’s younger
twin had been so much closer to their parents. It was impossible for her to
walk through the door, let alone come here and stay for any length of time. It
was just too painful, so the house sat and slowly achieved that stale,
abandoned air of a home without people to love it.

To Jamie it
seemed just plain wrong to imagine someone else living in her childhood home.
She had so many memories of this place and her parents, good and bad. She was
hesitant to let go of it, but the reality was that she needed the money.

The property
had been built in the fifties by one of their great uncles so there wasn't a
mortgage, but there were still taxes and hydro and exterior maintenance costs
to consider. Duncan had offered to take over these payments for them but
neither Martin sister had felt right about that. These small provisions
wouldn't put a noticeable dent in his sizable trust fund, but Jamie had been
adamant about not accepting charity from him. Even if he was her
brother-in-law.

No, they needed
to let it go. It was a symbol of all they'd lost and an obstacle to her future,
but it still felt like a betrayal to her parents to even consider selling. She
would do what she had to do. She would be tough, just like she'd always been.
No one would know exactly how much it was costing her to sell her home.

If The Love
Laws somehow managed to generate a lot of business for her store, it still
wouldn't be enough to mass produce her inventory and launch the Hidden
Treasures website on the scale she was contemplating. It was a massive
undertaking. And that required capital. The proceeds from the house would provide
that, even if selling it felt like ripping out a piece of her soul and putting
it up for sale on eBay.

It was bitterly
cold as she meandered along the Pier this early February morning. The long
wooden structure had been there since 1908 and jutted out into the ocean for
approximately 1500 feet. Today the icy wind caused the usually placid surf to
slam against the Pier’s moorings with brutal force but still Jamie found
herself walking the same route she'd frequently travelled as a child with her
mother and eventually alone as a sullen teenager.

She paused and
looked down with a small smile. At 15 she had smoked her first and last
cigarette directly below where she was standing now. Ten minutes later she had
vomited copiously into the sand a few feet away while her friends had laughed
at her expense.

The underside
of the Pier had been a gathering place for teenagers since the fifties. The
rocks and large beam supports had offered perfect protection from the weather
as well as camouflage and privacy for bad behavior. In her late teens she had
spent a lot of time here, doing inappropriate things with people her sister and
mother found distasteful.

Looking back
she wasn’t quite sure what she had been thinking. Hanging out under the Pier
seemed like pretty risky behavior, even for a rebel like her. She'd gotten off
lucky, but more than one girl from her high school had gone down to the cave-like
haven under the Promenade with a boy, hoping for an innocent make-out session
only to return with torn clothing and tear-streaked make-up.

She still
wasn’t quite sure how she’d managed to escape her mother’s detection. June
Martin walked the Pier at least twice a day and could have looked down between
the slats at any time and seen her there, drinking or flirting or generally
acting like a bad-ass. But the chance of being discovered had just added to its
appeal for Jamie. On some level she had wanted her mom to notice what she was
up-to, but June Martin had never acknowledged it even if she had seen her
daughter associating with hoodlums and undesirables under the Pier.

It was deserted
down there today, but apparently under the Pier was now a popular spot for drug
deals. On hot summer nights when tourists flocked to White Rock like bees to clover
honey, police officers regularly walked the Promenade and Pier, trying to keep
illegal activities to a minimum. Things had changed a lot in the ten years
since she'd lived here. But the view was the same and so was the feeling of
familiarity mixed with sadness she always experienced when she came here now

Her nose was
running from the cold and the wind threatened to pull her green cashmere beret
off her head, but she continued walking and thinking until she reached the very
end of the Pier. Here she pulled her long plaid coat tightly around her and
leaned against the railing, looking out at the ocean and contemplating her next
step.

She was so
confused. Not just about Hidden Treasures and its future, but the whole Love
Guru persona she'd invented. Was she really this cynical about men? She was
mistrustful of love, yes, but was she really as cold as she sounded? When had
this happened to her exactly?

It's not like
she'd ever had her heart broken. If some dickhead had used and discarded her
perhaps she'd have an excellent excuse to bash them so mercilessly, but the
truth was she'd never been in love. Not even close. She had been in lust
countless times, but nothing she'd experienced even came close to what her
sister had with Duncan.

She feared that
maybe she wasn't capable of such deep emotion. Perhaps she was superficial and
frivolous, just like everyone said. But she loved her sister, and even Clay.
She would die for either of them. And she had loved her parents. Okay, she had
totally resented them because they hadn't understood or approved of her. But
she had cared for them deeply in her own way, despite her exasperation with
their close-minded attitude towards what they considered her rather
distressingly extroverted and creative personality.

Outside of
those four people, her heart seemed to be immune to any kind of real
attachment. Yes, she had countless friends and had spent the two years she'd
worked at the Kitty-Kat surrounded by adoring men, but none of them had really
moved her to any degree. She'd had some affection for the five men she had
actually slept with, and had really enjoyed them sexually, but love? No. Not
love.

When Kevin had
kissed her last night, something awful yet truly amazing had happened. She had
felt all-consuming, panty-soaking passion, but there had definitely been more
to it than that. She had experienced real tenderness mixed in with the passion.
A first for her. Yes, she'd wanted to rip his pants off and ride him like a cowgirl
on a wild stallion, but she'd also felt real concern for him. She looked into
his gorgeous topaz eyes and saw real pain there. He was clearly lost and struggling
to stay in control of his world. He was unravelling right in front of her and
all she wanted to do was comfort him and help him find his way back to being that
fun-loving surfer she'd clashed with in Maui.

But is that
what she really wanted? The womanizer she’d argued with on that beach would
never settle down. He loved chasing and conquering women. But once his
curiosity and his body were both satisfied, he would move on. She knew enough
about men to recognize the type. Dating him would be asking for heartache. He
wasn't the commitment sort. In other words, he was just like her: which made
him both an incredibly enticing challenge, and a real threat to her comfortable,
loveless existence.

If she was
smart, she would avoid Kevin. The problem was that despite her more
conservative appearance and newly serious nature, at heart she was still a
rebel. And that demanded a little reckless behavior. At least once in a while.
But was she really prepared to risk quite so much? Probably not. Even if his
lips tasted better than chocolate and his butt was so tight you could bounce
quarters off it.

As much as she
liked fantasizing about pursuing something real with the sexy writer, she knew
she had way too much going on right now to think about taking on a
relationship. Especially with a legendarily promiscuous man who was clearly
going through some kind of crisis. Not exactly her idea of Mr. Right. But how
was she going to get rid of him now that she was firmly on his radar? Just
ignore him? She’d already tried that and it just seemed to inflame him more.
Besides, he was her brother-in-law’s best friend. Their lives were entwined.
She couldn’t really pretend he didn’t exist without making everyone
uncomfortable.

No, the secret
to discouraging Kevin was to give him exactly what he claimed to want: sex. The
more she denied him the more he wanted her. But if she stopped resisting and
they had some mediocre slap and tickle, then he would be content to move on and
forget about her. Just another notch on his extremely well-used bedpost.
Perhaps they could even be friends after the initial awkwardness wore off. She’d
stayed friendly with her other ex-boyfriends, so she didn’t see why a one-night
stand would present any long term problems. They were consenting adults who could
share one night of lukewarm passion. Nothing more.

The problem was
she didn’t want to have mediocre sex with him. Her traitorous body clamored for
more. Way more. It wanted sweaty, grunting, mind-blowing, toe-curling,
hair-straightening, pussy-drenching, multi-orgasmic sex with a man who knew
exactly what he was doing. And that man was Kevin Hall.

Everything
about him said, ‘sexpert.’ From his cheeky grin to his giant feet, he was a
walking advertisement for truly exquisite casual sex. She was honest enough
with herself to admit that was exactly what she wanted. She deserved a little
fun, didn’t she? She’d done without for such a long time. Even her vibrator’s
batteries had expired from disuse. She’d allow herself one or two little
orgasms and then she would start counting ceiling tiles and feigning some
really convincing boredom as he pumped away on top of her. She could just
imagine the incredulous expression on his handsome face if she actually started
yawning during sex with him. That would certainly put him off.

With a small
smile she turned her back to the wooden guardrail and the churning ocean. She
scanned the hillside for the familiar site of her house, halfway up the hill.
The windows were dark now but as a teenager, she’d fancied that she could often
see her mother, framed by the pane of glass, watching for her from her window
seat and worrying. Catching sight of the familiar green roof in the distance
she sighed and thought:
pretty soon some other mother will be sitting there
and watching for her kid and I won't belong here anymore
. The thought made
her feel melancholy, so she shifted her gaze towards the mostly deserted shops,
pubs and restaurants scattered along West Beach.

Movement along
the wide stone stairway leading down from Marine Drive to the base of the Pier
caught her eye and she noticed a flock of senior citizens gathering for their daily
walk. One large form departed from the crowd and began walking the long wooden
planks towards her. His size and shape were unmistakable, as was the confident
athletic grace of his movements. It was Kevin. He had followed her here.

At first her
heart leapt with surprise and delight. Had he actually gone to the trouble of
finding out where she was and then drove out here because he'd needed to see
her? Wanted to talk about how things had ended between them last night? Wanted
to tell her he had real feelings for her? No, that was impossible. To her
knowledge, Mr. Kevin Hall didn't pursue women. He didn't have to, and yet here
he was, striding towards her on one of the coldest days of the year and looking
like sex on a stick as he did so.

The foolish man
wasn't wearing a scarf or a hat so the wind blew his shaggy golden hair around
his head in a halo, making him look more like a lion than ever. His dark
sunglasses, totally unnecessary on such an overcast day, hid his eyes, but she
could see that his lips were quirked upward in a pale imitation of a smile. The
dark, unadorned jeans and black leather motorcycle jacket completed what she
considered to be her idea of completely lickable casual male attire. Not too
put-together to look fussy, but carelessly masculine and oh so irresistible.

When he reached
the Pier's halfway point, Kevin raised a gloveless hand in greeting and Jamie
watched a huge grin spread across his handsome face. He looked like an
extremely overgrown little boy with a secret. Obviously he was delighted that
he'd tracked her down.

She wasn't too
certain how she felt about his sudden appearance anymore. His being here could
mean he was genuinely interested in her, which caused about a million
butterflies to start dive-bombing her stomach, but it could also mean she was
right about him and he was one of those predatory guys she talked about in the
articles. One of those overgrown adolescents who couldn't resist the chase, but
once he had a few tasty bites of his prey he would move onto the next vulnerable
gazelle.

She didn't want
to be just a new and exciting challenge. She wanted more. A lot more but knew
with absolute conviction that what she wanted was impossible. He was a
man-whore and a troubled man-whore at that. Only a really foolish woman would
encourage him and she wasn't foolish. At least not anymore. She needed to get
rid of him and the quickest way to do that would be to give him exactly what he
wanted, which seemed to be her: spread-eagled and submissive. As soon as
possible. As an added bonus she’d be ending her sexual dry spell in truly
spectacular fashion.

*****

Kevin felt like
the smile on his face must resemble one of those Joker masks they sold at
Halloween. The expression felt fake and frozen there on his icy lips and yet he
knew if he let his genuine feelings seep through he would look like a kid
watching his first horror movie. So he smiled like a complete moron. The truth
was that he was scared shitless that Jamie would just casually walk past him
like there was nothing between them at all. He knew he'd been a selfish,
arrogant jerk in the past and he would completely deserve it if she did reject
him so cruelly, but a tiny perverse part of him needed to know, either way, if
he'd imagined their connection, or if there actually was something real between
them.