The Fidelity Files (Jennifer Hunter #1)(126)
That's why you remain unemotional. Indifferent to the outcome. Completely neutral as to whether your mind-reading capabilities are accurate or not.
Because if you never anticipate, if you never feel hope, you'll never be caught unaware. It was a lesson I'd prided myself on learning, committing to memory, and following like a commandment.
But somehow tonight, and with every minute I'd spent with Jamie since that fateful trip back from Vegas, I'd managed to forget it. I'd managed to forget a lot of things lately. And I wasn't happy with the results.
I'd never been a big fan of uncertainty, and I thought I had figured out how to avoid it. Now it was chasing me down a dark hallway with no doors, no windows, no light switches.
Jamie reached out and patted my hand. I flinched. Something I've never done on an assignment. I attempted to play it off by flipping my hand over so that we were palm in palm.
"Sorry to bring it up," he said, interlacing his fingers with mine. "But let's not worry about it until it's certain. Okay?"
I smiled pleasantly. "Okay."
Jamie leaned across the table and kissed me tenderly on the cheek. "So tell me, how do you know how to speak French so well, anyway?"
I looked away, refusing to meet his glance. Instead I pretended to be distracted by all the Paris nightlife starting to fill up the street. I had always hated lying to him. But tonight, right now, something was different. A voice deep inside was telling me not to care. It was the voice of hostility. Bitterness. And even resentment. He had already lied to me. He'd been lying to me from day one. Every moment that we were together and the subject of his wife didn't come up was a lie. The trust had already been smashed to pieces. And he was holding the sledgehammer.
So what did it matter anymore?
"I studied it in school," I replied casually.
"Wow," he replied. "That's amazing. Most people who learn it in school don't retain any of it. But you seem to have a really good handle on the language. I've heard it's extremely hard when you have no practical application for it."
"Well, I do use it, okay? What's with the twenty questions?" I snapped violently.
My sudden outburst surprised us both. I shrank back in my seat with embarrassment. Jamie blinked and stared at me, waiting for the punch line. Because that's what we do. We joke. We banter. We go back and forth, for hours. Playing off each other. Inspiring each other.
But the punch line never came. I simply sat back in my seat and surrendered my hands into my lap.
"I'm sorry, I didn't—" he began cautiously.
"No," I quickly interrupted him, frustrated with myself that I had let my emotions escape. Especially when they never do. Especially when they were always so well contained. Always guarded, twenty-four hours a day. Seven days a week. Because evidently, like members of the French monarchy, they couldn't be left unattended.
"It was me," I insisted gently. "I apologize. I guess I'm just feeling a bit jet-lagged."
Jamie looked at me with uncertainty. "Okay. Are you sure?"
I waved my hand in the air. "Yes. Completely."
"Is this about...?"
"It's not about anything," I said hastily. And then covered it up with an agreeable smile.
Jamie nodded slowly and looked at me with tender eyes. They were filled with so much genuine compassion that it almost made me want to throw my napkin down and storm away from the table, yelling something like, "You're a cheater, so start f*cking acting like one!"
The waiter brought our entrées and I quietly picked up my fork and began to shovel small pieces of steak tartare into my mouth.
"Well, I guess we're both tired," he admitted, watching me frantically stuff my face with raw beef.
"Mmm-hmm," I said with a mouthful of red meat. I swallowed. "I'm exhausted."
I guess deep down I always thought Jamie would save us. That he would tell me the truth before it was too late. And then maybe, just maybe, there would be room for forgiveness. After all, it seemed to be the word of the week. But it was obvious to me now that there was only one way out of this trip: for Jamie to fail his fidelity inspection. Honesty was no longer an option, as he seemed to have no idea what the word actually meant.
Jamie was right that the trip would be cut short. Because tonight it was show time. The black-and-pink lace bra and matching panties I was wearing under my skirt and sweater would certainly do the trick. If all went according to plan, I would be sleeping in my own hotel room tonight and on the next flight home in the morning.
"Well, we'll just eat fast and head straight back to the hotel," Jamie offered sympathetically.
I grabbed a piece of bread from the basket on the table and took an oversized bite as I replied to his comment with an empty smile. "Perfect," I said sweetly.
30
The Naked Truth
JAMIE KISSED me as soon as we entered the hotel room. It was a much-needed relief from the relatively quiet taxi ride home. I suppose we each had a lot on our minds. I was thinking about getting back to the hotel, stripping down to my sexy bra and matching underwear, and getting this damn inspection over with. He was, ironically, probably thinking about bras and panties as well. Or the lack of them.
I'm sure he took my silence as a sign that I was upset about the possible shortening of our trip. If he only knew how a shortened trip to Paris was the last item on my list of things to be upset about today.