Salvaging love, p.4
Salvaging Love, page 4
As they walked the park and enjoyed the music, Ellie started with a history of the neighborhood. How it had begun with German immigrants who’d built the park and the buildings around it. How, during WWII, the people living here had built gardens in the park to grow their own food. She pointed out the Nakamura family’s small grocery store at one end of the park and explained how, during the war, the neighbors had kept it open for the family till they’d returned from the labor camp.
“You had no idea what you were getting into when you asked me to talk about this place, Mr.…I mean, Jackson.” His eyes got a shade darker when she said his name. Oh, my. “I don’t want to bore you.”
“I’m not bored. I’m listening.”
“Okay,” she said again. He was difficult to figure out. She didn’t know which was better, the Jackson who worried over her unlocked door, or quiet Jackson, who let her expound on a topic she loved, who asked good questions, who told her she wasn’t boring him.
“Then again,” he said, “no one’s ever tried to bore me into changing my mind. Maybe that tactic will work for you.”
Ellie grinned. “Were you teasing me again?”
He winked at her.
Did he just—? That tingly feeling shivered through her again. She didn’t know what to do with that, especially since he was here so she could sell him on the idea of restoration.
Ellie was so caught up in Jackson lust she almost missed his phone ringing.
“Kincaid here,” Jackson said into his cell phone.
Ellie studied his profile. Strong, intense. She wanted to study him forever, to lean closer and put her fingers on his jaw, his cheek. Make her way around to those lips of his.
“I have to go.”
“What?” Ellie shook the fog from her brain, pulled from a great daydream to realize none of those wonderful thoughts and sensations were real. Hmm, she might need to hide that phone of his.
“Emergency, babe. Gotta head to my office.” He gave her hand a squeeze. She brought her gaze from their hands to his face in a daze because she was stuck on babe.
He dropped her hand and walked backward away from her. “I’ll talk to you later.”
What in the heck is happening here? That seems to be my question of the week. She sat before she fell over. Babe? She couldn’t decide if it was the way he’d said it, or that hot, bossy Jackson Kincaid had called her, plain and simple Ellie Blevins, ‘babe’ that made her blush. Ellie sat in the warm sunshine and enjoyed the sensations of his flirtation. She didn’t even care how red her cheeks were from blushing.
Eventually her blush faded. She imagined how many women in his life he called ‘babe’. Silly, she chided herself. It was ridiculous to get caught up in his handsomeness and the sparks he shot through her. He could have any gorgeous woman he wanted, and she was certain it wouldn’t be her. No one had ever wanted her.
Shocked back to reality, Ellie found, for the first time in a long time, those thoughts hurt, and she rubbed at her chest. She headed for her clinic, deep in thought at the way her emotions had hovered right near the surface ever since Jackson Kincaid had stormed into her clinic. She wondered what he did that called him into his office on a Sunday afternoon.
Not that she was one to talk. She worked all the time, but her clinic was her life—taking care of animals, saving injured ones, rescuing litters, finding homes for ones who were abandoned. After all, animals never insulted her or shamed her for not being good enough or beautiful enough.
She shouldn’t be wondering about him at all, except for how to convince him not to destroy this community she loved.
Chapter Six
After nine on Monday night, Ellie curled up on her red velvet sofa to read about the history and importance of the Corvallis neighborhood. To convince Jackson not to tear all these beautiful buildings down, she wanted to sound like an expert. There was history about the Italianate and Queen Anne-style buildings and more current articles about new urban living with business, retail and homeowners all coexisting together to form strong communities. Everything she already knew and felt in her heart was here on paper for Jackson to see. He seemed like a man who needed absolute proof, hard facts, success stories. And Ellie planned to give them to him.
But she was having trouble concentrating and organizing her thoughts. Do men randomly call a woman ‘babe’? Is that a casual word? It didn’t feel casual. It stunned her. It made her face flush and it started those tingles up in her body again. She wanted to call Nat or Ruby and ask them, but she had no clue how to chat with girlfriends about men. And if she told them who he was, she’d have to explain about the buildings being sold, which she didn’t want to do yet. When her phone rang, she answered it without looking at the caller ID.
“Hey.”
“Babe.” Before Ellie could come out of her shock, he said, “You always answer the phone like that?”
“Jackson?” she whispered.
“Yeah, who else did you think it was?” He sounded angry and she was super puzzled.
“No one. I assumed maybe Matt was calling because he needed my help with an animal at the clinic or maybe Nat. How did you get my number?”
“Your cell is on your business card, Ellie.”
“Oh, right,” she said. “Are you mad?”
“It felt intimate, friendly, the way you answered.”
What? Am I losing my mind? “Well, that’s how I talk to my friends, Jackson.” She spoke slowly now, not sure who was more confused, herself or Jackson.
“Right,” he clipped.
“You’re mad?”
“I’m not.”
“Well, you say that, but you sound mad.”
“I like the way it sounded when you said, ‘Hey.’” His voice was grumbly, but intent, serious.
She could not keep up with this man.
“Okaaaay,” she said. She was a tiny bit freaked out because Jackson Kincaid had just told her how much he liked the way she’d answered the phone, and she didn’t know what that meant. His silence freaked her out too, because she couldn’t tell if he was still there or not, and she wanted him to still be there.
“Jackson?”
“I want to be the only one who gets that soft, intimate ‘Hey’ from you.”
What? “I’m confused,” she said quietly.
“I’m not,” he said. “I like the way you look, your gorgeous skin, that cute break in your nose, although I doubt I’d like the way you broke it.”
No, he absolutely would not, she thought, sucking in a breath.
“I like the way you talk to your dogs, the way when you say ‘Hi’ to people you make every single one of them feel special. I fucking love the way your hazel eyes get darker when you’re fighting with me, the confusion in your face when I catch you off guard. You’ve got a fucking fantastic body, and that’s only from seeing you in your scrubs and your sexy yoga pants and I bet I’d like what’s hidden underneath. I like the way your soft voice hits me, the way you smile at everything, except when you’re pissed, which I might like even more. I don’t want the month to learn why a bunch of buildings are worth saving, I want to spend the month getting to know you. Still confused?”
Stunned was more like it. He liked her in her yoga pants? Her nose that was so far from model perfect she could not even go there?
“Ellie? Are you still confused?”
“No?” she squeaked out, but it was definitely a question, because, hell yes, she was still confused. Was he high? Or blind? Maybe both?
He laughed. “We’ll get there. How was the rest of your day?”
We’ll get where? He’d shattered her world, in a good way and he wanted to hear about her afternoon? “Um…” Pull yourself together, Ellie. “Good. I vaccinated a new patient, changed the dressings on the surgery patient I had the other day and had an old greyhound in for ultrasounds. Not too busy.”
“Most people would call that busy, Ellie.”
“Um, sometimes things come up and I try to fit people in. How was your day, Jackson?”
“Not worth talking about.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“Nope, but now I’ve got your sweet voice on the phone. Talk to me, Ellie.”
“Talk?” God, she cringed and knocked her head against her knees. She was such a loser.
“Yeah, babe, tell me what you’re doing now, or if Buffy got enough naps today.”
He certainly paid attention. Buffy liked nothing more than napping, aside from French fries.
“I just finished dinner.”
“Another peanut butter sandwich?”
“Well…” Yes. She debated which would make her appear more stupid—admitting that to someone like Jackson Kincaid, or staying silent, thereby giving him the impression that she couldn’t hold a simple conversation. “I had stuff to catch up on tonight. And I haven’t gone grocery shopping in a few days.”
“What does a vet catch up on during evenings by herself in her apartment?”
“Research on historic neighborhoods, urban planning, benefits of tight-knit communities.”
“Babe,” he said. His deep voice softened as though he was smiling while he said it. He could call her that all day. It moved deep into her, the sweetest song she’d ever heard written for her. She set her papers aside and snuggled down into the couch with her throw blanket.
“I don’t want you to think all my reasons about this neighborhood are purely emotional. I want to prove to you that this neighborhood could be even more beautiful and amazing than it already is. It’s been here since the late 1800s. Many of the buildings are original. There’s history here.”
“Not all history’s good.”
“This one is. It’s full of generations of families, historic architecture, love and loyalty. People take care of each other here. It’s a beautiful thing. Jackson? You still there?”
“Right here, Ellie.”
Even over the phone she sensed the atmosphere had changed with the tenseness in his voice. Was he angry again?
“I’m sorry, I’m running on again. I can’t help but get carried away. You frustrate me. I don’t know how to make you see things my way.”
“Again, don’t apologize, Ellie.”
“Um, okay,” she started. She might as well say it to him, maybe then she wouldn’t be flustered in every one of their conversations. “I have a hard time reading you, Jackson. I’m…um, not very good at this, whatever this is. And I sensed you might be mad again or at least not happy.” Jesus, could I sound more stupid?
“You spent your night, after working hard taking care of animals, and I suspect, the people around you, doing research to convince me?”
“It’s important to me.” He’d told her—in a pretty fantastic way—that he liked her. This was her being herself.
“I get that. But you’re also doing it for me.”
“Well, I suppose, yes,” she said. “You are the one I have to convince to change his mind out of a billion-dollar development.”
“Got one good friend in this world, Ellie. You met him, Connor. Aside from him, I spend my day surrounded by people who take from me, not people who stay up late after a long hard day at work to try to show me a beautiful and worthwhile project.”
“There’s so much there, in your words, I don’t know where to begin. I can’t imagine you letting anyone take from you?” What she didn’t ask out loud was what kind of person, as obviously powerful, gorgeous and smart as Jackson Kincaid, only had one single friend in the world? Even she had more than that.
“Let’s have that conversation later, El. It’s too much for tonight. It’s late, babe. I’ve got an early meeting. Gonna let you get some sleep. Call you tomorrow evening and you can elaborate on urban community development to me.”
“You’re teasing me again, aren’t you?”
“Yep. Only thing better than seeing your smile when you understand I’m teasing you in person is hearing your voice soften when I’ve got you on the phone. It’s debatable which one’s cuter. Thursday night, I’m taking you out. Get some sleep.”
“Okay, Jackson. Goodnight.”
“Night, El,” he said, right before he hung up.
Chapter Seven
Jackson’s early meeting blackened the glow he’d had from hearing Ellie’s sweet voice over the weekend. A week ago, his client, Lucciano, had claimed an old enemy had beaten his wife, that Lucciano was innocent. Yesterday Jackson’s investigator had discovered the faulty alibi. Hence the current meeting with the bastard.
Smug and slimy, the fucker, Lucciano, walked right into the meeting and said, “Who cares if my alibi’s fake? He’ll do a good job on the stand.” Then, in his snake-like voice, “Does it matter who beat the bitch?”
Tossing his chair back, fury running through him, Jackson nearly leapt across the table at Lucciano. His partner, Mark, grabbed him and tossed him out of the conference room.
Fuck him! Fuck him! Jackson might work with the lowest of the low, but one thing he never did—he never took domestic violence cases. His partners were fine with it. There were enough other criminals to defend. Lucciano had been Jackson’s client for years, and now Lucciano would only work with him. The sick fuck liked Jackson for some reason.
“He’s fired!” Jackson yelled.
“We can’t fire him—he’s our client. He fires us. You know how this works. What the hell is wrong with you?” Mark asked, following Jackson into his office.
“His alibi is a joke. He lied,” Jackson said to his partner. He could barely get those words out in unrestrained fury. He grabbed his basketball and bounced it hard against the wall in his office. He wanted to throw the goddammed thing out through the window.
Mark laughed. “They all lie. Our clients are all guilty, which doesn’t fucking matter, because it’s our job to get them off so they can pay us, and we can enjoy the lifestyle we’re all accustomed to. That’s it. You signed up for this gig when we started this firm, and when you accepted Lucciano as a client years ago.”
Disgust filled Jackson, disgust at himself, at his one-time friend. Or maybe they’d never really been friends. The full weight of what they’d become, lawyers without ethics, was that it? One asshole boosting another up at the expense of people’s lives? Both made him want to vomit. But it was more this time. It was Jackson’s past coming back to spew all over him.
“I never signed up for this. Defending innocent people in our messed-up justice system was always my goal, not this bullshit. I’m out. Not taking this case.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“He tried to beat his wife to death!” Jackson yelled.
“And?” Mark scrolled through his phone.
“Are you out of your fucking mind? I don’t know what the fuck happened to ethics around here, but I’m out. I’m done with this partnership, this career—this everything.”
“You’re going to throw it all away, everything we’ve built?” Now Mark was incredulous. A man putting his wife in the hospital so bruised and broken she didn’t even resemble a woman anymore couldn’t draw him away from his phone notifications. But Jackson handing over their firm pissed him off.
“What have we built?” Jackson seethed.
“An empire—”
“Of greed and filth. I can’t even wash the stench off me anymore. I do not defend pieces of shit who beat their wives. Ever.”
“I know, I know.” Marc tried to pacify him. “But you know Lucciano. You do not want to make that man angry. You will handle this the way you handle every other case, which is to say, you kick the prosecution’s asses. And unless you have a reason a judge would believe, or want to face the wrath of Lucciano, you don’t have a choice.”
Fuck. Mark was right. “After this case, I’m done.”
“I can’t afford to buy you out.” Now Mark was pissed.
“Take however long you need. I don’t care. I’m done. Now get the fuck out of my office.”
“We have to finish the meeting.”
“You finish it. I need to cool down. You do not want me in that room right now.” The last was said more to appease Mark. Jackson didn’t want to cool down. He wanted to beat the shit out of Anthony Lucciano, like Lucciano had done to his wife.
“Fine, but you’re not dropping this case. There’s too much at stake.” Mark stalked out of Jackson’s office.
Too much at stake? Crashing from the adrenaline rush, Jackson sat in his office chair and set the basketball down. The only thing at stake was the amount of money Anthony Lucciano brought to this firm. And Jackson had fostered that over the years—more money, more high-paying clients. Always more. Anything to keep his memories and the fact that his life had become an empty pit.
He sat in his office for hours past dark, thinking about what he could do. Like it or not, Lucciano was their client. No longer could Jackson draw the line between a criminal like Lucciano and himself, because every time he defended the slime, Jackson might as well have done the crime himself. And this was a crime he couldn’t stomach.
He wanted to walk away now, but when Lucciano didn’t get what he wanted, the man was evil. Just because Jackson usually dealt with Lucciano’s business affairs didn’t mean he was unaware of the dark mafia underworld in town. How had Jackson become this man? Taking on clients he wouldn’t invite into his home.
Lucciano would uncover Jackson’s weak spots and slice them open. Jackson only had a few. Connor. Connor’s sister, Katie, and Katie’s girls. Somewhere in the world he believed he still had a sister.
And now Ellie, a woman he wanted in his life more than he wanted to breathe. Meeting Ellie had burst his cold, dead heart wide open. He’d been feeling stirrings of change in his life, wanting to be a better man, but a few moments in her presence, all the longing in the world to be a better man flooded his insides.
But, sitting in his office twenty floors above the city, he was plagued by how Ellie would feel when she found out what kind of a man Jackson Kincaid was. Even scarier, what his connections to people like Lucciano could do to her. He had no right to keep Ellie in his life when it wasn’t safe for her to be connected to him. She filled the world with her pure beauty and goodness and he was the exact opposite.
