Complicated Creatures: Part One Page 7

  “As do teenagers, lazy coworkers, and parolees, I’m sure,” Mitch interjected, moving forward to brush Sam’s cheek in a social kiss. “Sam, I said it earlier, but you look astonishingly beautiful tonight. Like Pallas Athena, worshiped by thousands of supplicants before going to war in your honor,” Mitch told her, stepping back to admire her dress.

  “I already gave you the check, Mitch,” Sam replied, her eyes glinting with humor. “No need to blow smoke up my ass.”

  Mitch threw back his head as he laughed, drawing the attention of the people around them. Rebecca must have heard as well, appearing by Jack’s side, eyes curious, smile bright.

  “What have I missed?” she asked, glancing around the group.

  Mitch made introductions. Jack noted Samantha’s expression remained pleasantly neutral while others gushed over Rebecca’s recent work. Rebecca preened, enjoying the spotlight. Though Jack knew he shouldn’t, he couldn’t seem to help thinking that Rebecca, famous for her looks and talent, didn’t hold a candle to Samantha’s relaxed self-possession. She was utterly confident, moving easily among Chicago’s power players, charming but desultory, sensual without being overt. Beautiful, certainly, but not reliant on her looks. Jack detached himself from Rebecca’s arm.

  “Samantha, a word?” he asked, slicing through the conversation.

  Jaime and Mitch glanced between the two before smoothly redirecting the conversation and engaging a suddenly uneasy Rebecca. Evan glanced at Samantha, a question in his eyes. She nodded at him as Jack stepped toward her, gently directing her toward the outdoor bar.

  “May I get you something besides champagne?” Jack offered.

  “A bourbon would be nice,” she murmured.

  Jack placed the order, requesting another club soda for himself.

  “You don’t drink?” Samantha asked, clearly surprised.

  Jack shrugged easily. “Occasionally. But it’s not my poison.”

  “And what is your poison?”

  He eyed her dress.

  Samantha laughed, a husky, sexy sound. “So your reputation is earned.”

  “Which one is that?”

  “The one about you being a wily, unapologetic, womanizing rake.”

  “That’s a mouthful.”

  “Oh, Jack,” Sam smiled, her eyes dancing. “I think that’s what you’re about to be on the receiving end of if your date’s death stare is any indication.”

  Jack glanced at Rebecca. If looks could kill. He smiled reassuringly at her before turning back to Samantha as he leaned against the bar.

  “I understand you wrote a big check,” he said to Samantha, allowing his gaze to wander over the romantically lit dance floor.

  “I wrote you two big checks. You’ll have to be more specific.”

  “The one for the Foundation tonight,” he clarified. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” Samantha replied, accepting the bourbon from the bartender. “Your Foundation is impeccably run and organized. I like the transparency you provide on funding allocation. It’s obvious you have people who know how to run a business managing it.”

  Jack tipped his head in acknowledgement. “Thank you. It’s a cause that’s near and dear to my family’s heart.”

  “You’ve lost someone to cancer?”

  “Hasn’t everybody?”

  Samantha remained silent, watching him. Jack couldn’t tell if he’d offended her or if she was just waiting for him to answer. “My Uncle Gianni and two of my grandparents,” he admitted quietly, surprised at his own candor.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said softly. “Were you close?”

  Jack took a breath. “I don’t remember my grandparents well, but I loved my Uncle Gianni. He was my father’s youngest brother. I look a lot like him.”

  “And was he also an unapologetic rake?” she teased gently after a pause, lightening the mood.

  “You forgot wily.”

  “How could I?” Samantha laughed. “That’s the best part.”

  Jack laughed with her. “Yeah. He did all right with the ladies,” he conceded.

  “Like uncle, like nephew.”

  “Pretty sure that’s not how the saying goes.” He grinned at her.

  Samantha waved her hand airily. “Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.”

  “And how about the other check?” he asked. “Are you happy you wrote it?”

  Samantha’s mouth curved into a small, secret smile. Jack had the sudden notion he’d like to make her smile like that often.

  “I’ve been living out of a suitcase in one form or another since college. Believe it or not, waking up in a place I recognize is a relatively new development,” she confided.

  Jack’s brows rose. “Congratulations. I hope you love living there as much as I have.”

  Samantha nodded. “I’m certain I will.”

  “And will you have a housewarming?”

  “Perhaps.” She shrugged.

  “And will you invite me?” he asked, tipping his face toward her as her scent teased him.

  “I think you’ll have to make sure you get permission first,” she murmured. “Your two o’clock,” she told him, finishing her drink.

  “Baby—what are you up to?” Rebecca sidled up to him, draping herself against his chest.

  “Just thanking Samantha for her donation,” he answered, slipping his hand around her waist, gently urging her back. Rebecca’s eyes narrowed.

  “Happy to help,” Samantha responded with a pleasant expression. “Please excuse me. I see a client I’d like to say hello to,” she told them, returning to Evan and guiding him toward another group of people at the edge of the gardens.

  “You two looked cozy,” Rebecca purred, her fingers sliding up Jack’s dress shirt. Jack grasped her wrists gently.

  “You sound jealous,” he remarked, turning away. “Glenlivet 18. Rocks,” he said to the bartender.

  “You’re drinking?” Rebecca asked, surprised.

  “I figure it’s a reward for a successful evening,” Jack shrugged. “More champagne?” he offered.

  Rebecca shook her head, crossing her arms.

  “Were you really talking about donations?” Rebecca asked as the bartender handed him his whisky. He took a sip, savoring the dram. Jack leveled a knowing smile at her. “You are jealous.”

  “And if I am?” Rebecca shrugged a creamy shoulder. “You’ve been watching her like a hawk all night. Should I be worried?”

  “Rebecca…” Jack cajoled. “I’m here with you tonight. And you look amazing,” he told her, trailing a finger down her arm. He took another sip of his drink before setting it down. “Come on. Let’s dance.” He drew her out to the dance floor, pulling her close.

  The orchestra was playing a bluesy version of “Moondance,” and Jack guided them along smoothly, his thumb circling the small of her back. She shivered delicately, and he smiled against her temple, his eyes tracking back to Samantha at the edge of the garden.

  “You know the filming is wrapping soon,” Rebecca murmured against his shoulder.

  Evan was saying something in Samantha’s ear. She laughed at whatever he said, nodding. Jack’s hand tightened on Rebecca’s.

  “I know we haven’t talked about me leaving…”

  Jaime joined Evan and Samantha, handing her a glass of champagne. She didn’t drink, but she smiled her thanks.

  “…I’d like to continue seeing you. I was thinking maybe you could come out to see me in California. Visit me on set.”

  Jaime was showing them something on his phone. Jack wondered if it was pictures of Maddie, but his fingers were moving too quickly, like he was working an app. Sam leaned in, clearly interested in whatever he was showing her.

  “What do you think?”

  Jack blinked down, refocusing. “Sure, baby. That’d be nice.”

  Rebecca’s mouth compressed into a thin red line.

  Not the right answer? Jack tracked back over the conversation, wondering what trip wire he’d hit.

&nbs
p; “What is this to you?” she whispered harshly, turning her head away as they circled the floor.

  He frowned, drawing her chin up. “Hey.”

  Rebecca jerked her face out of his grasp, stepping back. “I’m still here, and you’re already planning your next score,” she whispered furiously, eyes hurt. Rebecca glanced around quickly, unwilling to cause a scene. She turned to leave.

  “Rebecca, stop,” Jack told her, pulling her back against him. “You’re overreacting,” he said into her ear before he turned her to face him again. “What’s going on?” he asked, looking into her eyes.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” she asked quietly.

  “Apparently not.” He pulled her back into his arms as the orchestra began playing a Sinatra number. The group of people dancing around them parted as he drew her toward the center of the floor.

  “I’m falling for you, Jack,” Rebecca admitted, her cheek resting against his lapel. “I don’t want this to end when we’re done filming in Chicago.”

  Jack said nothing, leading her gently along the dance floor as he tucked their hands against his chest. Rebecca’s eyes welled, and she blinked furiously, holding her emotion back. Jack pressed a warm kiss to her forehead, gliding her through the steps.

  “Let’s just enjoy this dance, Rebecca. You look so beautiful tonight…”

  “What’s going to happen to us, Jack?”

  “Baby, let’s just focus on what’s happening between us now. Hmmm?” He dipped her low, kissing away her troubled expression.

  Hours later, when Jack took Rebecca to her hotel, she slid her hand into the waistband of his dress slacks and pulled him forward, whispering how badly she wanted him. How she needed him.

  And so he gave himself to her. Harder and rougher than usual, yanking her head back as he licked and bit at her neck, imagining that long, creamy expanse of skin belonging to someone else. Closing his eyes as he surged into her, Jack imagined dark hair and dark eyes staring up at him. And as he ran his hand down her chest and gripped her thigh, pulling it up high over his hip as he spent himself into her body, he bit his lip so he wouldn’t say her name.

  Samantha.

  *

  September—The next morning

  Oak Park, Illinois

  J A C K

  “Who wants pancakes?”

  “Uncle Jack?” Maddie’s little head popped out of the tent on her bedroom floor, a mess of dark curls and a hanging-in-there-for-dear-life red ribbon.

  “Yeah, micina cara1—unless you’ve got an uncle you love more than me?” he asked, plopping down beside her as she shuffled back into her tent.

  “I don’t have any uncles ’sides you,” she replied sassily, tossing out a stuffed rabbit, a pillow, a coloring book, and a toy stethoscope. Jack easily caught each item, used to her routine. Her head popped back out. “I need those,” she told him solemnly.

  Maddie was the Princess of Preparedness. Even before her mother passed away, she was constantly getting ready for something, whether it was dragging her blocks around or carrying ten different coloring books in case she had the urge to sit down and doodle for the next two hours. She jerked out a surprisingly large giraffe from the tent as she stood. What she needed that for Jack wasn’t entirely sure, but he knew better than to argue.

  “I want pancakes the shapes of stars,” she told him, dragging the giraffe behind her tiny, five-year-old body. “And strawberries. And a turtle.”

  “For breakfast?” Jack asked, following her dutifully with all her stuff, the doting uncle.

  “No. For a pet,” she answered, annoyed he wasn’t catching on. “Dad said I had to think really hard about it, and I did, Uncle Jack. I want a turtle.”

  “Okay, micinia cara. We’ll see what we can do,” Jack promised, pausing outside of Jaime’s room, listening for movement. It was early still, and Jaime wasn’t accustomed to late nights out anymore. Jack figured he’d let his brother enjoy a rare sleep-in while he entertained Maddie.

  He watched in amusement as Maddie dragged the giraffe down the stairs by its head. She situated the giraffe next to her in the kitchen as she climbed up a short bar stool so she could watch Jack while he worked.

  “Star-shaped pancakes coming up,” he smiled, prepping the batter as he took a sip of the coffee he’d made when he let himself in.

  Jack saw his brother and Maddie as often as possible—whether it was making breakfast or dinner together, going sailing, watching a game, whatever. He’d been busy the past couple weeks, and he’d missed out on their usual time together. But after leaving Rebecca’s hotel early this morning, he’d gone home and showered, catching a couple hours of sleep before waking with the sun and heading over to make them breakfast.

  “What are you working on, cara?” Jack asked as he cooked pancakes on the griddle.

  Maddie hunched over her coloring book, focused on it like she was cracking a nuclear missile code. “I’m drawing a house for my turtle, Uncle Jack. I want us to build it,” she explained, coloring furiously in purple.

  “You got it,” he told her, proud his penchant for building things seemed to rub off onto her. “You want a boy turtle or a girl turtle?”

  Her little brow knit. “How do you tell the difference?”

  Jack thought about it. He had no idea, but he bet his nerdy brother would know.

  “Not sure, cutie. Let’s ask your daddy when he wakes up. Do you have any names picked out?” He sliced strawberries, placing a little plate of them in front of her.

  “Bob.”

  Jack bit back a smile as he leaned against the kitchen counter. “And if it’s a girl?”

  “Bob, Uncle Jack. Just Bob,” Maddie insisted, sticking her little tongue out in concentration as she continued designing Bob’s dream home.

  “All righty then.” He nodded sagely, returning to the pancakes.

  “Oh my God, where is the coffee?” Jaime groaned, stumbling into the kitchen. He scooped Maddie up, blowing a raspberry on her little tummy while she squirmed and squealed.

  Jack poured Jaime a cup, sliding it toward him.

  “Thanks, bro,” Jaime sighed in pleasure as he sipped, taking a seat on the barstool next to Maddie. “You’re here early,” he commented, popping one of Maddie’s strawberries into his mouth.

  Jack shrugged, flipping the pancakes.

  “Daddy, how can you tell a boy turtle from a girl turtle?”

  As Jaime explained, Jack fixed Maddie’s plate, sliding it in front of her.

  Delighted, her mouth formed a perfect O.

  “This what you wanted, micinia cara?”

  “You made me stars, Uncle Jack.”

  “You’re my little star, Maddie.” He smiled, ruffling her hair.

  “And what am I?” Jaime prompted, looking longingly at the bacon on the stove.

  “You’re a pain in my—”

  “Don’t say bad words, Uncle Jack,” Maddie chided, wagging her finger.

  “Yeah, Jack,” Jaime grinned. “Be nice to your baby brother and fix him a plate.”

  “Say please, Daddy,” Maddie directed as she jabbed at her pancakes.

  “Please, Daddy,” Jaime parroted, winking. Jack rolled his eyes, fixing him a plate while Jaime turned on his tablet, fiddling around with some developer code.

  Jaime had always been a bit of a closet geek, messing around with computers and developing software. When he’d decided to start his own software company, Jaime would get lost for hours coding, and Cassie had been grounding for him, reminding him to eat, to stop and pay attention to the world around him. Jack’s biggest worry when Cassie died was that Jaime would retreat into himself and cope by withdrawing into a world of binary code and sequences where things could be predicted and carefully controlled. But their daughter had kept him engaged and focused on the present; the day in and day out of taking care of her becoming the new grounding.

  Jack slid a plate toward Jaime and sat down across from Maddie with his own. “Papers and tablets down,” he commanded, sipping
his coffee. Call it an Italian family tradition, but Jack insisted on human interaction at meal times. Used to the drill, they dropped what they were doing, and Maddie reiterated again, for her father’s benefit, that she wanted a turtle for a pet, that she had given it serious thought, and that the name of her turtle would be Bob, regardless of the sex.

  Jack and Jaime listened attentively, asking questions where appropriate, and nodding as she explained why it was important to build Bob a dream house. In purple. Immediately.

  “Okay, Maddie,” her dad said, kissing the top of her head. “After breakfast. Let Uncle Jack and me finish while you watch your cartoons, okay?”

  “All right, Daddy. But we need to build Bob a home. Soon.” She swept up her coloring book and crayons, flouncing into the family room.

  “Swear to God, she’s more like Ma every day,” Jaime laughed, echoing Jack’s earlier thoughts.

  “A girl on a mission,” Jack agreed.

  “A girl who will have a turtle named Bob in a purple popsicle house come hell or high water. What a little nut,” he chuckled, getting up to get more coffee. Jaime poured more coffee for both of them before sitting back down and leaning forward conspiratorially. “So…your hot neighbor.”

  Jack’s brows lifted. “We raised thirty million last night, and that’s the first thing you ask about?”

  “Man, you always beat last year’s numbers.” Jaime rolled his eyes. “I knew the take was good just by looking at Mitch. He looked like he was high half the night. Let’s just cut to the juicy shit—I had no idea you sold the place. And you scored a ridiculously hot neighbor. How does that even happen?” Jaime asked. “Look at my neighbor.” Jaime pointed outside the kitchen window at the chubby middle-aged man scratching his belly as he picked up the morning paper. “That’s what they usually look like.”

  Jack shrugged, smiling into his cup. “Got a good offer. You seem okay, so no sense in holding on to it. Besides, I was just waiting for the right buyer. Specifically a ‘ridiculously hot’ woman.”

  “Really?”

  “Nope.” Jack shook his head. “I actually thought Samantha was a man when she made the offer.” He chuckled into his coffee cup. “She shocked the hell out of me when she came out of the pool in a swimsuit.”