Paper Wishes Read online

  Beside us, a waiter handed a patron the cork of a bottle to sniff. A man in a chef’s hat sauntered across the room and shook hands with a woman wearing a richly tailored suit. Linen drapes wove in and out of elaborate sconces, accented by stems of fresh cut flowers tucked in perfectly positioned angles.

  I realized I was slouching and forced my back straight. How in blazes was Jack going to afford this place?

  The restaurant hostess flashed me an agreeable smile and handed me a menu.

  “Two glasses of house white wine, please.” Jack nodded to the waiter.

  “Right away, sir.”

  A wry smile crossed Jack’s lips as he leaned toward me. “So, do you come here often? What do you do for a living? Got any kids?”

  “Stop being silly.” I ducked behind my menu to hide the blush I felt heating my cheeks.

  “Well, I wanna make sure I give you the full first-date experience.”

  A server filled our water glasses and hustled to the next table.

  “We can skip all the uncomfortable questions. I already know all your dirty laundry.”

  Jack picked up his glass. “Well, here’s to already knowing about each other’s dirty laundry.”

  I clicked my glass against his. “And here’s to not caring that you mix your whites with your darks.”

  ****

  Whether from the wine or sheer joy of a wonderful evening, my body jittered with excitement. I swung my purse strap in circles, just because it was fun. A lightness infused my heart, releasing me from trials now forgotten.

  Jack followed me up the walkway to my porch. The curtains beside the door pushed to the side as Nicky peered out. She giggled and scooted back, leaving the sheers askew. Little snooper.

  I rubbed my gloved hands together. “I had a great time tonight, Jack.”

  He slipped his fingers into his coat pockets. “I did too.”

  Now what? A pang of fear pushed against my ribs as we faced the dreaded first goodnight kiss.

  “So, I guess I’ll see you at work tomorrow. Goodnight.”

  Jack’s eyes popped open. “Goodnight? Aren’t you going to invite me in? You always invite me in.”

  Oh crud. He’s got you there, Jill. “Yeah, well, that was before. It feels weird, now.”

  His hand caressed my cheek. Warm fingers stole the chill from my skin.

  “It doesn’t feel weird, Jilly-Jill. It feels right.”

  It does. Oh, it does! What was I doing? I turned from his touch, my heart rattling within my chest. It had never been awkward between us. Never. So why was I struggling so? “Jack, I’m just not ready to invite you in.”

  “Why not?”

  “This is our first real date, and…”

  His laugh formed a small white cloud about his lips. The puff swirled once before carrying away on the breeze. “Come on, it’s me. We’ve known each other for six years. I went with you to buy your car last year. I sat beside you when you asked for the annulment. I taught Nicky how to read, for Pete’s sake.”

  “I know. Jack, you can’t fathom how important you are to me, but inviting a guy into the house… with Nicole here…”

  He ran his fingers through the hair at my temples. “I’m the same guy who’s been here a thousand times. I’m not some schlep you met in a bar. I love you guys.”

  Love? I allowed myself the luxury of a brief swim inside the emotion swirling in his eyes. I trusted him more than I’d ever trusted anyone, so why was this so hard?

  “I’m sorry, but it just doesn’t feel right anymore, you know… to ask you in.”

  “You’re wrong. It’s never felt more right.”

  He drew my hair back, exposing my ear to the chilly night air. My neck quaked with a shiver.

  “I want to be with you, Jilly-Jill. Come on…” His fingers trailed down my arm and gave me a gentle tug toward the door.

  The tremor begun by the cool evening ran down my spine and cumulated at the center of my need. I responded to the ache and took two steps with him. I needed this. I wanted this. Would it be so wrong?

  A cold gust of air slapped me across the face, jarring me back to clarity. I dug my heels into the cement walkway, slipping on the ice.

  “No.” I slid my arm from his embrace. “Please understand that I’m just not comfortable with this yet.”

  All expression drained from his face, followed by a disappointed sadness that raked my soul.

  Jack’s gaze dropped toward the snow-covered grass beside the porch and remained there until he raised his eyes and grinned. “You know what, I should have expected this, and I’m sorry.”

  He drew his fingers across my cheek, stealing my resolve. My lips opened, ready to invite him in, before he tweaked my nose.

  “Tell you what. How about we do something special in a few days? Give this whole I’m dating Jack thing some time to simmer for you, okay?”

  Parts of me screamed, yearning to pull him inside, but my subconscious pushed out a relief-filled sigh. “That sounds great.”

  “Awesome.” He leaned down and placed a respectful kiss on my cheek. “Goodnight, Jilly-Jill.”

  I resisted the urge to watch him drive away, worried I might change my mind. It was better this way. We all needed time to adjust.

  “What happened?” Nicky galloped down the stairs in her pink plaid pajamas as I closed the door. “Where’s Uncle Jack?”

  “He went home.” I hung up my jacket and rubbed my temples. The sinking in my gut worsened as Jack’s headlights pulled out of the driveway.

  “Why? He always comes in to say hello.”

  “Yeah, well, not tonight.” I slumped to the kitchen and flopped into a chair beside the table. He’s going to think you’re a prude. He’s not going to want you anymore.

  Nicky slid into the seat opposite me. “What happened?”

  “Oh, Nic, I hope this wasn’t a mistake.”

  She straightened. “Wait… what, Uncle Jack? Uncle Jack’s not a mistake, Mom. Uncle Jack is great!”

  “I know he is, sweetie. I just don’t know if I’m ready to get into another relationship yet.”

  “Dad’s been gone for three years. How long do you need?”

  My eyes widened as I sat back. “That was a little rude, young lady.”

  “I’m sorry, but seriously. Why wait? Uncle Jack’s here now, and… well, it’s like they say in the movies, he’s not gonna wait forever.”

  I rubbed my forehead. “That’s what I’m worried about.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing, sweetheart. It’s late. You should be in bed.”

  Chapter Three

  Two Nights until New Year’s Eve

  “Do you have those reports I need for my eleven o’clock meeting analyzed yet?” Jack asked, leaning into my cubicle.

  “Just finishing.” I tapped a few final comments on the closing numbers. “I’m e-mailing it to you now.”

  He ran his fingers across my shoulder. “You know, you seem a little distracted lately. Usually you finish sales analyses before I even know I’m going to a meeting. You wouldn’t be letting personal matters affect your work performance would you? Because I would be disappointed to find out you’re losing your touch over a guy… even if he is devilishly handsome and spending every waking moment counting the minutes until he can get you alone again.”

  I bit my lip as I stared into my computer screen. “My personal life is my own business, Mr. Acres.”

  He leaned against my desk. “Ah, so there is a big, tall, devilishly handsome man in your life.” I caught a self-satisfied grin out of the corner of my eye. “It’s about time.”

  I punched his knee.

  “Ow. No violence in the workplace!”

  “Will you get out of here before people start talking?”

  He leaned close, feigning perusal of the spreadsheet on my monitor. “Everyone’s suspicious already. There’s no way we’re keeping this quiet.”

  “Well, we’re going to have to, or they’ll change me to an
other department.”

  His gaze darted toward me and his jaw fell. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “We need to be discreet until we can prove that it won’t affect our performance.”

  His mouth formed a word he chose not to finish. Yes, that sexual harassment training had finally kicked in. Don’t say it, Mr. Acres! His expression filled in all the blanks though. Boy, he could be annoyingly cute at times.

  He leaned back down to my computer and moved the mouse. The cursor swept across my screen, pointing at nothing. “Do you realize how long it’s been since I kissed you?”

  “Before Christmas, you’d never kissed me.”

  He kept his eyes on my monitor and brushed his smooth cheek against mine. A sweet musky scent embraced my senses as the heat of his touch raged through me with the speed of a chariot. “What a waste of six years.” He stood and walked toward my cubicle doorway. “Thanks. I’ll go get those reports.” He winked and slipped into the hall, leaving me trembling in the wake of his Jack-ness.

  ****

  Monica Dubin’s cackle bounced off the cubicle walls and through the entire office building, sending a chill down my spine. I glanced down at the clock in the lower right corner of my monitor. Four-twenty. Jack hadn’t popped into my office for our customary three-fifteen chocolate chip cookie break.

  I slid back my chair and padded across the hall to his office. A closed door barred my path. “Jack, are you in there?” I tapped on the wooden panels.

  Cole Peters leaned out of the next office. “He went home early, just after lunch.”

  “Oh, was he sick?” Why didn’t he tell me?

  “Nah, he’s got some big date or something tonight. I’m surprised you didn’t know about it.”

  A warm sensation tickled me. I suppressed the giggle bubbling within. “I knew he had a date. I just didn’t know he left. No biggie.”

  I slipped back to my cubicle and let the giggle burst free. My goodness, Jill, how immature can you be? I grabbed my stomach, holding in another delighted laugh. This is ridiculous! You’re acting like a sixteen year old. I inwardly stuck my tongue out at myself. I’ll be as immature as I want. Hey, I deserve it. Everyone should feel this immature — and alive.

  Busting at the seams, I decided to follow Jack’s lead and give my fellow office workers a break from my giddiness. After all, I had a secret boyfriend to get all dressed up for, and I didn’t want to be late.

  ****

  “Nicole, I’m home!” I slipped my jacket from my shoulders as I entered the foyer.

  “Mom’s home!” A cabinet banged shut, and a pot lid hit the floor.

  “She’s early. Quick!” A man’s frantic voice answered her.

  “Jack?” I hurried to the kitchen. What was he doing here?

  I stopped at the end of the hall. A long, green, linen tablecloth covered our normally junk-ridden dinette. Two candlesticks stood in a glinting centerpiece, a plastic lighter leaning against the golden base.

  Nicole and Jack froze in place: Nicky with a pie in her hands, Jack with a pot hovering over the sink.

  “Ummm, surprise?” Jack placed the pot down, a guilty expression slapping his cheeks into a blush.

  Nicky slid the pie into the oven. “I didn’t do anything. I’m not even here.” She wiped her hands on her top, leaving a trail of white floury fingerprints. “I, ummm, gotta go.” She slipped past me.

  Jack raised his hand. “Wait Nicky Bomb! What do I do with the… you know.”

  Nicky giggled and ran back to the stove, setting the timer for an hour. She held up her knuckles, and she and Jack shared one of those weird fist-pump thingies.

  “Okay. I’m outta here.” She snatched an overstuffed duffle bag from a chair.

  “Outta here? Where are you going?”

  She inched up and placed a kiss on my cheek. “To Claire’s. I’m spending the night.”

  “You are? Who said so?” Why did I feel lost in the insanity of spilled flour and… was that marinade I smelled?

  “Uncle Jack said I could.” A brazen smile matched the devilment in her eyes. “It’s okay, Mom. Jack’s put a lot of work into this, and well, I don’t wanna be here if you, well, you know — kiss or anything. You know?” She twisted her nose, like that was the grossest thing in the world. “Never mind. I’m going.” She backed toward the front door and winked at Jack. “You kids have a great time.” The screen door sprang shut.

  I folded my arms. “This smells like conspiracy.”

  Jack’s lips brushed the side of my cheek. “Nope. It smells like steak.” He lit the candles. The flickering flames sent a soft shadow to the wall as he pulled out a chair. “Sit please, madame.”

  “I can’t believe you made dinner.”

  “Yeah, well, I had a little help.”

  I eased into my seat. “Can I do anything?”

  “Nope. Tonight is all about you.” Jack slid a salad of mixed greens before me. Extra spinach leaves poked out from a star of crisscrossing carrots in the center of the bowl.

  Wow. This part definitely wasn’t Nicky. Apparently there was more to mild mannered Mr. Acres than he let on. I shrugged, unused to such pampering. “I love spinach leaves.”

  “I know.” Jack handed me a bottle of sweet Vidalia dressing, my favorite.

  Crap. Do I know his favorite food? Other than coffee and chocolate chip cookies…

  Soft piano music filled the room. The lights dimmed, leaving us in the warmth of candlelight. He set another salad at the head of the table and sat beside me.

  I hoped the candlelight hid my blush. Having been the one cooking and serving meals by myself for the past three years, such attention sent cascades of guilt through my chest. I controlled my desire to jump up and take over.

  “Jack, this is amazing. Thank you so much.”

  He stabbed a cherry tomato with his fork. “Ma’am, you are welcome.”

  I spread the napkin on my lap, something I’d never done at home, but the occasion seemed to call for it. “So, how did the McKinley negotiation go this morning?”

  Oh my goodness, did I just start something akin to husband/wife dinner talk? Not that I’d be able to recognize it if I had. Bill had rarely spoken a word during meals, preferring the company of television over his family.

  “Yeah, actually it went easier than I expected. They were putty in my hands.”

  “That’s why you get the big bucks.”

  He coughed, covering his mouth. “Spoken like someone who has not seen my paycheck. I think rumors of the corporate negotiator’s salary are highly overestimated.”

  I wonder how much he does make?

  I pushed the thought out of my mind. We were leaps and bounds away from that conversation. First week of dating, Jill. Let’s rein it in a little and not scare the guy.

  Jack wiped his chin with his napkin. “So, how was your day? This is usually a slow week for you, isn’t it?”

  I tensed and felt my eyes grow to the size of saucers. My gut clenched as I tried to come up with a response. Bill never wanted to hear about my day. His work problems were always more important than anything I had to say.

  But this isn’t Bill, is it?

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The urge to cry built up, pressing against the muscles in my throat.

  “What’s wrong?” Jack’s forehead wrinkled in concern. “What did I say?”

  I dabbed my eyes with my napkin and managed a smile. “Nothing, it’s stupid. I had a great day.” And it’s getting better by the minute.

  ****

  I tried to contain a snicker as Jack slid a sloshy blob of apple-pie mess onto my plate.

  “It’s not my fault. The little stinker never said anything about setting a pie.”

  “That’s what you get for having a twelve year old mentor.”

  He stabbed a cinnamon covered apple onto his fork and blew on it lightly before slipping it into his mouth. “Mmmm, tastes good, though.”

  “Don’t worry; I just won’t look
at it.”

  “Hey, some people call the ugliest things in the world masterpieces.”

  “Oh yeah, like what?”

  “Well, how about those paintings? You know… the weird ones by that crazy guy.”

  “Hmmm, that narrows it down.”

  “You know, that French guy… the paintings we saw at the museum a few years ago — everyone was ogling them, and we were making fun of the smushed faces and dumb shapes and stuff.”

  “You mean Picasso?”

  “Yeah, that dude. This pie is way better than any of his stuff.”

  “I’d definitely agree with you.”

  He pulled out his phone and clicked a picture of the misshapen pie blob, saving his masterpiece for future generations. “Do you think someone would spend forty million on my pie?”

  “Well, it is ugly.” I’d always loved our off-the-wall conversations. I never knew what he’d come up with next.

  “Yeah, and it’s so much better than a painting because not only can you feast on its ugliness… you can eat it too!” He slipped another bite between his lips. “And it tastes pretty good if I do say so myself.”

  I laughed, spitting some crust on my plate.

  “Careful there.” He pointed with his fork. “That’s about fifty thousand dollars’ worth of pie.”

  “Oh, okay. Let me write you a check.”

  “That will be eight million dollars, please.”

  I crinkled my nose. “Huh?”

  “Well, you ate the whole piece. Pay up.”

  I entwined my fingers, leaning on them. “I’ll need to put a little money in my account, first.”

  “Please do. I don’t like rubber checks.” The candlelight caught the humor in his eyes as he stood and grabbed his dishes.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had so much fun at dinner. Just being with Jack seemed to bring out the best in me. I relaxed, and allowed myself to flow, rather than bottling myself inside, or trying to mold myself into what someone else wanted me to be.