“Hi,” There’s an uncertain frown on his face as he looks at me. His shirt is tucked into jeans, with a deep blue jacket slung over one shoulder. As much as I would prefer not to admit it, he does look good.
“Hi Jack.”
“You busy?”
That had always been his standard question. Usually, I’d say no, and then he would come in and sit on my desk. We’d talk, and he would make me laugh so hard my stomach would hurt. Now I can’t even imagine laughing at anything he says.
I give him a humorless smile. “I am, actually.”
“Rachel.” He draws out my name as he walks into my office, “Don’t be mad.”
Don’t be mad. That’s all he had to say. I snort. “I’m actually not mad, Jack, but I’m really kinda busy at the moment.”
He stares at me, then comes around the desk, leaning on it as he smiles down at me. “I’ve missed you, you know.”
“Yeah, the way you always do. You missed me when you were dating that flamenco dancer in Spain, that Italian swimmer you spent a month sailing with, the Brazilian model… You always miss me, but never enough to...” I stop, annoyed with myself for even allowing the outburst. “How’s your fiancée?”
“She’s great.”
“Good.”
He suddenly reaches for my hand, taking it in his. The touch is intimate, but not strange. I realize how often he’s touched me like this over the past two years, gestures of intimacy that keep me hoping, yet make no promises.
I stare at my hand in his, and I find myself thinking of Landon. At how different it feels to be touched by him. There’s something potent about Landon’s touch, something that sets me on fire, and makes me want to toss away all my inhibitions.
“Rachel,” Jack is saying, “I know we have a history, but it was a long time ago. What I need now is for you to be happy for me. I need to know we can still be friends.” His eyes are imploring as they hold mine. I know the look well, it’s one he has used successfully to break down my resistance over the years. Usually, it would make me succumb to whatever he was suggesting. Right now it just makes me think of Laurie’s words. “He knows you’re in love with him, and he wants to keep you that way, so you’ll always be there.”
My desk phone rings, freeing me from having to respond to Jack. I pull my hand from his and pick up the phone, holding the receiver to my ear. “Hello.”
“Jessica wants you.” It’s the brusque and efficient voice of Carol Mendez, secretary to Jessica Layner, editor-in-chief of Gilt Traveler.
In all my time at Gilt, Jessica has never requested for me specifically. In fact, I don’t think she’s ever said more than two words to me. “What for?”
“You can ask her when you get here,” Carol snaps, and I hear a click to signify that the conversation is over.
I get up from my chair, “I have to go,” I tell Jack.
He looks disappointed. “Alright, but we should talk later, Rachel. I can’t stand this… distance.”
I watch him leave, frowning as I pick up a tiny notepad and a pen. He’s going to have to get used to the distance, I decide resolutely. There’s no way I’m letting our relationship go back to the old dynamic, where I wait on the sidelines hoping for the little crumbs of his attention.
AS the Editor-in-Chief, Jessica has the largest corner office on the floor. It’s actually a suite, with a large closet/dressing room, a private seating room when she doesn’t want to be disturbed, and the main office, from where she commands us foot-soldiers. I arrive at Carol Mendez’s office first. “Jessica’s in,” she tells me, barely looking up from her computer.
“Thank you,” I reply, wondering what Jessica Layner could want with me. To be honest, she’s rather intimidating. I spent my first year at Gilt terrified of her. She’s very fashionable, tall, and slender, with sharp eyes that don’t miss a thing, an attractive face, and a body any woman would be proud of at any age. She’s in her late fifties, according to Wikipedia, but Mark Willis once confided that she’s a few years older than her official age.
From Carol’s office, I enter the short hallway that leads to Jessica’s. The walls are lined with pictures of Jessica with various politicians, Hollywood stars, and world leaders. Further intimidated, I smooth my sleeveless cream silk blouse and black knee-length pencil skirt, then run a hand over my hair before opening the door to Jessica’s spacious office. I see her as soon as I enter the room. She’s sitting at her desk, facing the door, with her back to the windows, her signature mane of back length, expertly colored blond hair framing her face like a halo.
There’s a man sitting opposite her on the other side of her desk, wearing what looks like a very expensive suit. Something about his profile, even from behind, makes my stomach tighten. But I’m so concerned about what Jessica has to say to me, that I don’t spare more than a quick glance at the thick waves of dark gold hair, and the obviously good-looking body in the suit.
I take two more steps inside the room, my eyes on Jessica, but something makes me turn back towards the man. At the same time he turns towards me, and for a moment, longer than a moment, my heart actually stops beating.
Landon.
I forget about Jessica as my eyes drink him in. I forget everything but him. I feel elated and confused at the same time. Blood surges under my skin, making me weak, and still he keeps on looking at me, his deep blue eyes holding me like a prisoner.
What is he doing here?
There is a small smile on his face. It looks harmless, friendly even, but beneath the surface, I can sense the danger.