myself back into work, but my mind kept drifting to my ex and the bitter exchanges between us. We seemed at once incapable of letting go but also of forgiving each other.
An hour later Jamie still hadn’t texted back, which bothered me more than I’d like. This was his grand plan, after all. He couldn’t leave me hanging.
It was a surprise, then, when I got a call from security to say “Jamie Stone” was here to see me again. I told them to let him in, my heart pounding, my belly fluttering. It was a cruel fate that would make Jamie McKenna the only man who inspired such exhilaration.
“Is it your lunch break yet?” Jamie asked without preamble as I walked out of the soundstage to meet him by his car.
I wanted to pull my elbow back and then let my fist fly at his face. It didn’t shock me that Jamie incited that violent passion in me.
He was seriously going to come here and just pretend like we didn’t have sex?
“Earth to Jane,” he said. “Come in, Jane.”
He was!
“Are you kidding me?”
“We have somewhere to be.” He opened the passenger side door. “Are you getting in? Or are you backing out of helping me Count of Monte Cristo the shit out of LA?”
I would not laugh or smile or be even remotely amused.
Fine.
If he wanted to play it that way, I could do that.
In fact, it was better. Pretending like it didn’t happen was for the best. “Give me five minutes.”
I returned a few minutes later with my purse after telling Lea I was taking my lunch break off the lot. Having gone from someone who lived and breathed every minute on the set to someone constantly distracted and taking lunch breaks, Jamie might just inadvertently ruin my career. Yay for him. Something to cross off that list of his.
Bastard.
Well, you didn’t have to get in the car, Jane, I reminded myself.
True. Hello, self-sabotage.
As I got in, I tried to ignore how much the Porsche smelled like Jamie. When my gaze moved to his hands as he shifted into drive, I quickly wrenched my eyes away. All I saw were those gorgeous hands on me. I could still feel them wrapped tight around my wrists, pinning me to the bed while his hips thrust against mine.
Flushing hot, I stared out the passenger window. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
He drove across the river, past Universal City, heading south. His mysteriousness was making my irritation increase by the second. Moreover, I was hungry. I’d been promised a lunch break. As if reading my mind, Jamie drove the car off Barham Boulevard and pulled up to drive-thru at a sub place. “What do you want?” He flicked his finger at the small restaurant.
“Where are we going?”
“Right now, we’re grabbing some food.” He pulled up to the outside menu. “What do you want?” Annoyingly, he read it to me. Every item, in detail, as if he were being paid to do it.
“I’ll have the veggie sub,” I cut him off, if only to make it end.
Jamie shot me a confused look. “You a vegetarian now?”
“No.”
Not responding to my curtness, Jamie ordered our food and paid for it, handing over the bags to me as he drove back onto the main road and turned left, heading farther south.
Ten minutes from the studio lot, he parked along the sidewalk across from the hospital.
“Now will you tell me what we’re doing here?”
He pointed down the street. “That yellow building is owned by a group of therapists who work at the hospital too. They host different therapy groups, including one called Coping with Cancer.” The building was small compared to the others on this street; only two stories and painted a vibrant, sunny yellow.
Confused, I turned to him. “And we’re here why?”
“You’ll see. Keep your eyes on the door.” He took his sub and drink from me and began eating. Casually. Like we were on a stakeout and this was an everyday occurrence for him.
Even though I was pissed at the subterfuge and drama, I was also hungry, so I ate as we waited. Ten minutes later, food gone, and tension still unbearably thick between us, I was about to complain when the door to the center swung open.
A few people stepped out onto the sidewalk, and I searched their faces for someone familiar.
Finally, a woman with short, silver-gray hair appeared and stopped to talk with a younger man. I recognized her from Jamie’s surveillance shots. I