The Fidelity Files (Jennifer Hunter #1)(149)

And, I had to admit, our particular shade of gray looked pretty good amid my world of white.

"I wanted to tell you," I insisted, begging him with my eyes to believe me. "I really did. But for so long you were the only thing in my life that didn't have anything to do with this tangled-up mess I had gotten myself into. I could think about you and it was like escaping from everything else. My blank page in a notebook full of illegible scribbles. I didn't want to bring you into that. I didn't want to taint that perfect feeling I had when I was with you. Plus, I was pretty sure if you knew, you'd leave anyway. So I had nothing to lose by keeping it a secret – and everything to gain."

He reached out to grab my hand, and he squeezed it in his own. "I wouldn't have."

"I was going to tell you in Paris. I swear. I had it all planned out. I had even decided to retire, and then..." I let my voice trail off, fairly confident that Jamie already knew the rest of that story.

He nodded. And then, after a moment of heavy silence, we both broke out into uncontrollable laughter. "How's that for crappy timing," he finally said, wiping his eyes.

"I know! Unbelievably crappy!"

"I can't even imagine what that must have been like for you when she hired you."

"She completely blindsided me!" I cried out. "I actually threw up!"

He laughed. "You threw up?"

"Twice! In your house!"

His hand slid down my arm and landed firmly on top of mine. "In my ex-house," he clarified.

"So..."

"It's over," he whispered. "Finally."

"Like really over?"

Jamie beamed. "She finally signed the papers this morning. Trust me, it's over."

I looked at him as a sly smile crept across my face. "So that means..."

He nodded slowly. "Yes, it does," he confirmed with a flirtatious grin.



THE TRAIL of clothes that led from our exact location on the couch in the living room all the way to my bedroom looked like a perverted reenactment of "Hansel and Gretel." Except with one important distinction:

The "bread crumb" pathway of my shirt, Jamie's belt, my bra, his jeans, my skirt, his polo, and so forth was not exactly left behind so we could find our way back. In fact, it was quite the opposite. We didn't want to go back to where we had come from. We only wanted to stay in the place that we were now. A place created by pure honesty, unconditional forgiveness... and truly mind-blowing sex.

Yes, it's true, I hadn't exactly had any sex in, well...let's just say, a very long time. But if memory served, I was quite certain that sex with Jamie was amazing.

"So," he said, rubbing my bare shoulder as I curled up close to his naked body.

"Yeah?" I asked, lifting my head up and staring adoringly into his eyes.

"Tell me. This fidelity inspection thing of yours. How does someone even get involved in something like that? It somehow doesn't strike me as something they offer in the career development office at college." He pulled his head up long enough to kiss me before plopping it back down on my white satin pillowcase.

I laughed and pressed myself closer to him. "Maybe we should save that story for another time."

He chuckled. "Always a mystery, Jennifer H. Always a mystery."

He kissed my forehead and squeezed me tighter as we drifted off to sleep.

My very first all-night slumber party.





36

Woman Full of Wonder


I'M CONVINCED that the concept of brunch was invented for three reasons: (1) to entertain in-laws; (2) for Saturday night clubgoers who don't get up until one o'clock in the afternoon and still crave breakfast food to nurse their hangovers; and (3) for meeting the future husband of your best friend who was supposed to have rejected you in a bar three weeks earlier.

As I walked into Chez Michel, a French/American fusion bistro in Beverly Hills, to meet Sophie and Eric for brunch, I could feel my heart start to pound.

This was either going to go really well...or really terribly. I had a feeling there was no in-between.

Sophie was either going to keep her mouth shut as we had agreed earlier or fish for small hints of details by saying things like, "Hey, Eric. Does Jen look familiar to you at all? I think she has one of those faces."

And then, of course, there was the possibility of total catastrophe. That I would show up, sit down across from them, and my radar would jump off the charts. My magic little men-reading device, which I had vowed to keep locked up in the closet for a long, long time to come, would start beeping furiously, alerting me to unmistakable cheating tendencies in the surrounding area. And the only man in the surrounding area would be Eric.

And that would not be good.

"Um, I think the reservation is under 'Sophie,'" I said to the hostess. She checked the book sprawled out in front of her. "Yes," she said with a charming smile. "The rest of your party has already arrived. Right this way."

I followed her through the crowd of in-laws and recovering clubgoers until I spotted Sophie sitting at a table against the far wall of the dining room with a tall, dark-haired man who I immediately recognized from the photograph Sophie had given me. The one I was supposed to use for Eric's inspection.

"Jen!" she said, scrambling over and giving me a hug. Then she turned eagerly behind her and said, "This is Eric. Eric, Jen." I reached out and shook his hand as I watched Sophie glance nervously back and forth between us, studying Eric's face for any flash of recognition.