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She’d laughed, but in the end, he’d gotten his way.
She’d gone out with him. And not just because her friends Grace and Melina had dared her to give dating a “nice” guy a try. But because she liked what he said, liked how he looked, and most of all, loved the way she felt when she was around him.
Once more recalling the words he’d used to get her to go out with him, she thought, What kind of man says things like “committed sex is the best kind?”
Maybe a man who she could indeed trust and build a real relationship with.
Maybe even marry—
Whoa, whoa, Lucy. Where had that thought come from? She didn’t want to get married. She forced her wandering thoughts to a screeching halt. She’d settle for a relationship that didn’t burn itself out in six months.
With supplies for a simple pasta dish out on the counter, she went to set the table, picking up the pile of paperwork and files Jamie had set there when he’d come inside. As she moved it, a few papers shifted and fell, and she was straightening them when the invitation caught her eye.
It was printed on delicate paper, announcing the engagement party of Eric Davenport to Brianne Whitcomb. The same last name as Jamie. Huh. Must be a relative? The invitation indicated the engagement party had taken place the weekend before, when Jamie said he was going to visit his parents. At the time, considering Jamie was so big on commitment, she’d wondered why he hadn’t invited her to go with him, but then figured that if things continued to progress between them, she’d meet his family eventually.
Was there a reason he hadn’t told her about the engagement party?
Was it possible he’d taken someone else?
Insecurity swarmed through her and she immediately wondered if he’d been embarrassed to introduce her to his family or if the feelings he professed to have for her were all a lie.
But no, that was just her usual paranoia and cynicism talking. Jamie might have suggested she dressed too provocatively a time or too, but that wasn’t terribly uncommon; men tended to be possessive. He’d never done anything to indicate he was embarrassed of her. Or that she couldn’t trust him.
Then the location of the engagement party caught her eye.
Joyau Cache in Paris, France.
He’d flown to Paris for an engagement party for the weekend? That had to have cost a small fortune.
Who did that?
People like her father and mother did, that was who. People who were very rich. People who had money to throw around. People who, in Lucy’s experience, often thought they were better than most.
Better than her. It didn’t matter that she came from an affluent, respectable family herself because she didn’t act the way a respectable, proper lady should act. She’d been treated like an oddity in her own family for as long as she could remember. Her own family had made her feel bad simply for being who she was. And in order to make sure she never felt that gut-wrenching sensation of rejection again, she never dated men who came from money.
Was it possible that Jamie was richer than he’d let on?
Suddenly the fact that he had commented on her provocative clothing seemed less about possessiveness and more about judgment. The fact he was withholding himself sexually suddenly became more about games and manipulation rather than giving their hearts time to open to one another. Hadn’t other boys, one boy in particular, pretended to love her only to cast her off as soon as he’d gotten what he’d wanted? According to her experience, that’s what rich boys did. Played games. Lied to get what they wanted.
“Hey,” he said from behind her.
She turned around to see Jamie looking fresh and happy, but when he saw the invitation in her hands, his face paled.
Any hope she’d been harboring that things could progress between them vanished.
Because he looked guilty.
And that’s when she knew.
Once again, she’d been a fool.
And he was the one who’d made her one.
