The Escape Clause Page 9

  He gave her a look. She was soft—yeah, soft. But he was sure she was criticizing her body. Women, his sisters mostly, did that all the time.

  “Anyway,” she stopped, pushed the sunglasses from her eyes and rested them atop her head. She looked him over and smiled. “You must think I’m a nit. Here I am screaming obscenities early on a Saturday morning and you obviously were sleeping. Trust me, I’ll be a very quiet neighbor. This really isn’t like me at all. I don’t usually…” She stopped, took a breath, and started toward him.

  Pete blinked again against the sun as the woman walked up the steps of the porch.

  She reached out her hand. “I’m Jill. Jill Yance. I’m going to be living downstairs.”

  Pete nodded as she shook his hand and then realized the entire time he hadn’t had a chance to say anything.

  “Pete.”

  “Nice to meet you, Pete.” She smiled a smile that was nearly as bubbly as her personality and Pete realized he might have smiled back. “I’ll let you get back to sleep and I’ll try to be quiet.”

  Pete nodded as she pulled her hand back and started down the steps.

  “Hey, Jill.” He heard his own voice call out to her. “Let me brush my teeth and I’ll come help. Those stairs are steep.”

  “Awesome!” she shouted back to him as she pulled the sunglasses back down over her eyes—which were a baby blue.

  He’d noticed her eyes.

  He’d noticed her.

  Okay, he thought as he headed back into the house, he wasn’t dead from a broken heart.

  Pete returned fifteen minutes later. He had two cups of coffee, one in each hand, and a plate tucked under his arm.

  “I thought you could use some coffee and I had an extra plate,” he said as he walked up to the back of the pickup truck where Jill was moving boxes.

  “How attached are you to that plate? You see I’m not any kind of good luck charm.”

  Pete laughed. He actually laughed for the first time in a month. “No sentimental value attached.”

  Jill rested her fists on her hips and looked at him. “Are you attached to the mug?” She nodded to another box of broken items. “I could use one of those as well.

  Now the laughter rolled from him. Was there some kind of God that knew he needed a breath of fresh air? Jill seemed to be that today.

  “Cup is all yours,” he said lifting it in the air so she could reach it. “I didn’t flavor it or anything, but I have some cream in the house if you want some.”

  She looked down into the mug. “You wouldn’t be offended?”

  “No. You wouldn’t be the only woman who took my coffee and made it taste good.”

  “Good, because this looks very dark.” She handed him back the mug and jumped out of the back of the truck bed before taking it back. She took the plate from him and stowed it in another box. When she looked back at him, she gave him a satisfied nod. “Thanks for the plate. Now show me the way to the creamer.”

  He couldn’t help but take a moment to stare at the woman he’d just met. She was so different from anyone he’d ever known. Her energy was contagious and he found himself smiling at her—which she noticed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing at all.”

  She slowly nodded. “You’re smiling really weird. Listen, if you’re some kind of creeper I’ll tell that John guy I don’t want to rent this place.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Even if I tell you I’m not some creeper wouldn’t that be hard to believe? I mean a creeper would be hell bent on making sure you didn’t think he was one. What if you’re the creeper?”

  Jill rested a hand on his shoulder as she laughed at him. “I’m going to take my chances. Now get me to that creamer before this coffee is cold.”

  Pete led her up the back steps and into the house.

  Jill stopped as she entered. “This is nice.”

  “Thanks. The last tenant left the lacey curtains. I didn’t choose those.”

  “Not judging,” she said. “So you know John too? The guy who rented me the basement?”

  “I’ve known John most of my life. I’m a family friend,” he added, but he felt as though he should have just said he was part of the family.

  “That’s cool. You could fill me in then.”

  Pete opened the refrigerator and took out the creamer and handed it to her.

  “Thanks. Do you have a spoon too?”

  He opened a drawer and took out a spoon.

  “How long have you lived here?” she asked as she perfected the coffee and then took the spoon to stir it.

  “About a month.”

  “John told me the tenant from my apartment moved out and is getting married. What about this tenant?”

  Pete swallowed the hard knot that had lodged in his throat. “She moved to France.”

  “No way!” She looked up at him. “Moved to France? That’s about the coolest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  He wished he could be as excited about it, but that just wasn’t the case.

  Jill sipped her coffee, added more cream, and sipped again. “Now that’s the perfect cup of coffee.”

  Pete wasn’t so sure. He liked it just the way he’d brewed it.

  Jill set the spoon in the sink and replaced the creamer before resting up against the counter. “Why did she move to France?”

  Pete shrugged. “Opportunity. Family. Her mother is from there and she wanted to know a different life,” he bit out the words.

  A smile formed on Jill’s mouth from behind her cup. “There’s a story there.”

  He drank down his coffee, which was growing cold. “Not anymore there isn’t.”

  “I get it. You don’t know me. I don’t know you. Why share your secrets with the woman standing in your kitchen having coffee, who will hear every time you flush the toilet.”

  He laughed immediately. She sure had a way of making him feel at ease.

  “She was my best friend growing up. We finally committed to seeing each other and got engaged.”

  Her eyes opened wide. “She left you for France,” she simply stated and he saluted with his mug in response. “Oh, Pete, I’m sorry.”

  “Me too.”

  “You’re still together?”

  He gave it a moment of thought and then shook his head. “I don’t think the forever was meant to be. I dearly miss my friend though.”

  Jill drank down her coffee—or mug of cream, he considered. She then rinsed it out and placed it in the sink.

  “It’s a good thing I’m moving in. I’m a great friend. Not huge into the dating thing. Not gay,” she added. “My mom keeps asking since she thinks I should be dating—men. Then she follows it up with, you have a pretty face, as if that will rid twenty pounds off of me.”

  “For the record you do have a pretty face and an infectious personality.”

  She studied him. “Infectious as in you’re sick now?”

  “As in I could do with a little more of you. I haven’t laughed in a month. I’ve known you twenty minutes and I’ve laughed a few times now.”

  “Then that’s good, right?”

  “Very.”

  “Thanks for thinking my face is pretty.”

  He could feel the heat rise in his cheeks. “I noticed your eyes right away too. I don’t see a thing wrong with you, but I have sisters. Girls always think there is something wrong with them.”

  “My jean size.”

  “See what I mean? I happen to think your jeans look exceptionally nice on you.”

  Jill narrowed her eyes on him. “You’re not a creeper?”

  “Not even close.”

  “Genuine through and through?”

  “To a fault.”

  She nodded. “Are you still going to help me move?”

  He laughed again and it was freeing. “I am also a man of my word.”

  “Hmmm.” She pushed back from the counter. “I think I could fall in love with you. I won’t,” she assured him. “I’ll think about
it, but you’re still in love with the French girl. But we can see what time brings.”

  She gave him a wink, opened the back door, and walked out of the kitchen.

  There was a little wiggle in her step and he wondered if he’d given her the pick-me-up she’d needed because she’d sure given him one.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Champagne was chilling in a silver bucket. The bubbles from the crystal flute she held to her lips tickled her nose.

  Sea air blew through her hair and the late afternoon sun on her skin warmed her.

  Laughter from people on the deck filled her ears. The thought that her mother had taken a yacht out into the French Rivera, or the Côte d'Azur, as she’d been corrected, humored her. It was unbelievable to her that her mother could drive a yacht, or a boat of any kind, and that she’d left Avery’s father there to get home on his own.

  Knowing the love they had her mother must have seriously doubted what was to be.

  Was she afraid of losing everything? Did she second-guess their affair?

  Avery sipped from her glass. Her mother had been very open about that time. She’d wanted the affair to be true love, but she was sure it was only sex. Though, she was sure it was sex for her and a relationship for him.

  Avery wasn’t sure, sometimes, if it was good to know all her parents’ secrets. Perhaps that came with being an only child.

  She let the sun soak her face with warmth as she thought about her mother living like this every day—shopping, lunching, yachting, and spa-ing. Hadn’t Avery dreamed of this her whole life? Her grandfather was making it a reality. She hadn’t done much but toured facilities since she’d been there. There had been no work done on her part to earn what she was given. Was it possible it would all be too much in the end?

  “Perhaps more sunscreen for you,” Marcus sat down in the lounge adjacent to hers, his body turned to sit facing her.

  “Am I burning up?”

  He opened the bottle in his hand and squirted the white lotion into the palm of his hand.

  “Come. Sit up now,” he instructed.

  Avery did as he said, turning her back to him. She felt his hands press to her skin and she held her breath.

  She missed the touch of a man. Something like this was very intimate, she thought as he slid his hands over her shoulders and down her arms.

  “Your skin is very hot. Perhaps we should go in and lie down.”

  Avery realized her mouth had gone dry as Marcus moved to her lounge and sat next to her.

  He trailed a finger down her arm. “I can make you a nice drink inside.”

  She sucked in a breath as Marcus reached his hand to her cheek.

  “I make you uncomfortable.”

  “I wasn’t expecting this.”

  Marcus smiled. He lifted his glasses to the top of his head and let his deep, dark eyes lock onto hers.

  “Why not? We have been attracted to each other since I accompanied you from Nashville.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Do not play games with me, Avery. I know you have thought about this.” He moved in closer to her and pressed his lips to hers firmly.

  Every muscle in Avery’s body began to shake. This wasn’t what she wanted, was it?

  The captain came on the deck walking toward Marcus.

  “Sir, Mr. Pierpont is calling.”

  Marcus looked up at the captain. “For me?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Marcus dismissed him with a nod and looked back at Avery. “I will be just a moment. Do not move.”

  She watched him pass by her and head inside. Her heart still hammered in her chest.

  She looked around and realized that there was no one even near enough to hear her if something went wrong out on that boat. The only people there were the friends of Marcus’s that he’d brought along. Why was she worried anything would happen? She pressed her hands to her thighs and took in a deep breath.

  Where did he get the impression they were romantically involved or that she was interested? Would he have kissed her if he’d thought otherwise?

  She pulled her phone from the small bag next to her lounge and walked toward the railing of the boat. Since that morning, when Marcus had told her Pete called she’d wanted to return his call, but Marcus had hovered over her. She hadn’t really noticed, until then, that he’d been doing that for the better part of a month.

  Wherever she wanted to go, he was sure to be there or arrange the travel. He decided the restaurants they would eat at and the facilities they would tour. She’d seen many wonderful works of art, but he’d chosen those too.

  It was as if she weren’t allowed to make the decisions for them. Marcus was in control of everything. Including who she called and when.

  Avery scrolled through her contacts. Why had Pete called? Did he want to apologize for not coming to the airport? Did he miss her? A nervous flutter filled her stomach. Certainly if something happened to his father someone would have called, not just Pete.

  Oh, who cared why he called. Right now she needed him. She needed the comfort of her friend. Nothing was going as planned.

  She looked at the screen in the early afternoon sun. It was hard to tell if it was even on.

  Avery cupped her hand over it to see. Who had she been kidding? Did she think she’d actually have cell service in the middle of the water?

  She’d just go back inside and place the call.

  This was bigger than she was now. She needed off the boat. Marcus kissing her had thrown her for a loop. Avery had come to prove to herself and her grandfather that she could be someone. She hadn’t expected Marcus’s advances.

  Hands came down on her shoulders startling her and she lost her hold on her phone. It tumbled from her hands and out into the water.

  “My phone! Oh, no!”

  She looked down, but there was no sign of it anywhere.

  Marcus laughed as he pressed his body to her back, his hands still firm on her shoulders.

  “We will buy you a new one when we return. For now you do not need it.”

  Avery spun around to confront him only to find herself pressed against him, the railing pushing into her back.

  “You are exquisite, Avery.” He brushed his fingers through her hair. “You are like a painting that should hang in a gallery for all people to admire.”

  She felt her jaw drop and the air in her lungs expel on a gasp.

  Marcus gave her that smile that twisted her insides. “Your grandfather is on his way.”

  “Here?”

  “Yes. He would like to spend some time with his granddaughter.”

  Avery bit down on her bottom lip. “Wonderful. I thought he’d forgotten about me.”

  “He has plans for you.” He moved in and again pressed a kiss to her lips. “We have plans.”

  Those words didn’t sit well with her at all.

  Marcus stepped back. “You should go inside and take a shower. Make yourself presentable for when your grandfather arrives. I will have the chef begin supper.”

  Avery nodded. It took an entire staff to run the boat on which she was just lounging.

  She walked around Marcus, picked up her bag, and headed toward her room all the while he watched her as if he were making sure she wouldn’t leave the boat.

  Perhaps the life of an oil heiress, or vineyard heiress, wasn’t what it was cracked up to be. People served her without expecting respect or thank you. She was “handled” all the time. Free to do whatever her grandfather or Marcus permitted, but not to find her own way or do what she wanted.

  There hadn’t been time for her to make her own life there.

  She was missing barbecue from Steve’s BBQ Pit and Beer, homemade strudel from her grandmother, and her mother’s horrible meatloaf.

  This had been the longest she’d been away from home and it was starting to weigh heavyily on her.

  She’d missed four Sundays of dinners.

  The babies born the day after her birthday were already a month
old. She should call Courtney and see how she was feeling, she thought, and then remembered the fate of her phone.

  Avery walked through the door of her room and quickly turned and locked it behind her. The last thing she needed was Marcus walking in while she was in the shower giving her demands as to how to dress for her own grandfather’s visit. Right now that would be something she just couldn’t handle.

  She started the water in the shower, undressed, and stepped in. The smell of the suntan lotion filled her nose as it washed off her skin along with the memory of Marcus’s touch.

  Tears began to sting her eyes. What was she doing here? Why had this been so important?

  Avery washed the lazy day off her skin and let the water soothe her. It was then she heard the sound of a helicopter and the boat shifted a bit.

  She braced herself as she stepped out of the shower as much for the shift of the boat as the shift in her heart. It was time to tell her grandfather she’d made a mistake and would like to go home.

  Certainly he would understand. After all, it didn’t seem as though he wanted her there anyway. Her being there didn’t seem as important to him as it had a few months ago when she’d visited him.

  Avery walked out to the deck. She wore a long sundress that blew in the warm breeze. She’d piled her hair in a loose bun atop her head and the air on her neck gave her a chill.

  “You look beautiful,” Marcus said from behind her.

  She turned to see him, dressed as if he were going to a formal dinner and not one on a boat.

  “Your grandfather is resting and will be up in just a bit.”

  Avery nodded nervously.

  “It looks as though we will have a beautiful sunset this evening.”

  He moved toward her and she pushed her shoulders back, inching her chin in the air.

  “How long is my grandfather staying?”

  “For the evening. He is a very busy man.”

  “He is.”

  Marcus was now in front of her reaching for her wrists. “He is very happy that you are enjoying yourself.” He brushed his fingers up her arms. “You are enjoying yourself, are you not?”

  Avery swallowed hard. “I am enjoying myself. But I have to admit, I’m confused by your reaction to me today.”