He’d accused her of overreacting, claiming the marriage had failed because of her. He’d said some other things, too. Hurtful things, meant to embarrass and humiliate her in front of his assembled friends. Things she couldn’t help but wonder were true. Two years had passed since she’d seen Deke, but the memories of that day were still raw.
She was so done with younger, good-looking men.
Which was why she wasn’t going to so much as look at a guy like Jamie Colter in that way ever again. If she did decide to get married again—and that was a huge if—she’d look for an older, settled man who would appreciate her and all she had to offer. She wouldn’t go near a guy like Jamie Colter, no matter how drop-dead sexy he might be.
Pushing away the disturbing memory of Jamie’s broad shoulders, honed chest and small, flat nipples, she turned her attention to unpacking the suitcase that lay open on her bed. Scattered on the bedspread were her toiletries and other essentials she had grabbed before fleeing New York City and everything it represented. Eventually, she’d have to go back. She still needed to move her belongings out of her apartment. The small studio in Brooklyn was a far cry from the luxurious penthouse in Manhattan, where she and Deke had lived together during the early months of their married life, but it had suited Rachel just fine.
“Hey, kiddo…are you doing okay?”
Rachel raised her head to see her mother, Diane, standing in the doorway. Rachel shrugged and gave a wan smile. “As well as can be expected. Thanks for letting me move back in until I figure out what I’m going to do.”
“This is your home, and you’re welcome to stay for as long as you want. I hope you don’t mind staying in the guest room. Your grandparents can’t do the stairs when they come to visit, and I turned your old bedroom into a sewing room years ago.”
“Honestly, Mom, I don’t mind where I sleep. You could put me in a tent in the backyard, and I’d be happy.”
Her mother came into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “Do you want to go back to New York?”
“No!” Rachel exclaimed, and realized it was true. She’d lived on the East Coast since she’d graduated college, twelve years earlier. After graduation, she’d worked as a hotel concierge in New York City, before branching out as a personal concierge, working for a global company, which was how she’d met Deke.
“There’s nothing left for me back there, and it’s time I moved on. I thought I’d take some time off, and then maybe open an office in the Monterey or Santa Barbara area, since the business is exploding right now. There must be some celebrities who need a personal concierge. Or maybe I’ll just cater to busy moms; they’re at least grateful for the extra help.”
“What about your job in New York?”
“I’m quitting.” Rachel grimaced and sat down next to her mother. “I don’t want to risk running into Deke, or any of his friends. I think it’s better if I just leave, and start over. Again.”
“Oh, honey.” Her mother wrapped her in a comforting hug. “It just goes to show money can’t buy you love. You deserve so much better than Deke Narducci, even with his millions.”
Silently, Rachel agreed. Deke’s trust fund had ensured a lavish lifestyle filled with luxury homes and expensive cars, but she doubted he had ever truly loved her. She pulled away from her mother’s embrace. “Well, it’s over now. Once I sell the car, I’ll be able to pay you some rent.”
Her mother’s face registered surprise. “Didn’t you get a divorce settlement?”
Rachel looked away, embarrassed. “Deke had an ironclad prenup, Mom, that basically denied me anything if we divorced before we had kids. I loved him, so I didn’t care. I never thought the marriage would end like it did. He gave me the car just before we separated, so it’s legally mine and worth quite a bit of money. He can keep the rest; I have no interest in his stupid trust fund, or anything else that belongs to him.”
“Of course not. You’ll be fine.” Her mother smiled brightly. “In fact, I’ve already found a client for you.”
“Oh?” Rachel braced herself. Her mother performed volunteer work at a nearby senior center, and Rachel wouldn’t put it past her to try and drum up some business with the elderly residents.
“Do you remember Sharon Colter’s son, Jamie?”
Rachel stared at her mother in disbelief. “No, Mom—”
Her mother raised a hand to forestall Rachel’s protest. “Just hear me out. He’s in the Marines, and he’s home recovering from a badly broken leg and some other injuries. We booked our cruise with the Colters months ago, long before Jamie was injured. I know Sharon is beside herself at the thought of leaving him alone for two weeks, since he’s unable to drive or get around, and I think it would be a perfect solution if you could look out for him while we’re gone. You could bring him to his doctor appointments, pick up some groceries and beer for him, that sort of thing.”