The Summer of Jake Page 5

  And the memory was making it hard to get my lungs working properly.

  As I opened my door, I tried to hide the flustered effect he had on me. “Hi Jake.”

  “Hey, Annalise.” He kissed my cheek. “You want to know something strange? I’m looking forward to this. A shopping trip, of all things.”

  I swallowed hard, trying to get my voice to work after feeling his warm lips. “That’s good,” I said, my voice only a little shaky. “Just try to hang on to that enthusiasm after we’ve been shopping for a few solid hours.”

  The corner of his mouth quirked. “Hmm, I’ll try.”

  As I reached for the doorknob, Rover bounded over and put a paw on her leash hanging on the coat-rack.

  Jake frowned. “Your cat has a leash?”

  I knelt down to Rover and scratched behind her ear. “How else would we go for walks? Sorry, girl, you can’t come this time, but I’ll take you for a walk this afternoon.”

  A muffled laugh came from behind me, but I ignored it as I locked up.

  After we climbed in his Jeep, I gave directions to Barbara’s Fancy Pants on Bondi Road. I knew Barb from my internship at a fashion magazine, and we’d become friends.

  Jake started the engine and pulled out into traffic. “I think I’ve seen that shop.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his thighs work as he changed gears. The muscles below the soft denim flexed and relaxed. Flexed and relaxed. The process was mesmerizing—why had I never noticed that before when a man drove?

  I turned squarely to the front and looked out the windshield. “So how was your surf this morning?”

  We pulled up at a red light, and Jake flashed me a grin. “Embarrassing, actually.”

  “Embarrassing?” When was life ever embarrassing for Jake, let alone a morning spent surfing? “What happened?”

  “Well, I was out there, sizing up the waves.” His voice took on a touch of story-telling drama as he settled into the tale, thumbs hooked under the top of the steering wheel so he could gesture with his fingers. “I picked my wave and went for it. Turned left, crouched down and grabbed the outside rail of my board—”

  Immersed in the visual he was creating, I interrupted. “What’s a rail?”

  “The side of the board,” he slipped in without breaking the stride of his story. “All set for a beautiful tube ride…only to realize I’d turned the wrong way. I’d turned into the tube instead of riding the other way. Crash.” He slapped one hand against his thigh. “I went everywhere—legs, board, everything.”

  As the light turned green and we started moving again, he laughed at himself with real enjoyment.

  “Oh no! Were you all right?” Despite seeing the blatant evidence of his survival in front of me, I felt a strange twinge of concern.

  “Just a bruised ego. Everybody out there was laughing.”

  In fact, Jake was still laughing, and so I relaxed and allowed myself to see the funny side. I tried to picture the other surfers ribbing him, but I’d never thought of people interacting with each other on the water. “Do they know who you are out there?”

  “There are enough who do.” He lifted a shoulder in a self-deprecating shrug.

  I turned a little in my seat to see him more clearly. I was surprised he’d told a story like that. Given his time on the pro circuit, I’d have expected him to be boastful or at least proud. There were mysteries wrapped in this perfect package of a man.

  “Can I ask a personal question?”

  He nodded. “Shoot.”

  I tapped a finger on my knee, trying to formulate the words. “You’re hardly over the hill.”

  Another laugh erupted from his throat. “Gee, thanks.”

  I bit down on an embarrassed smile, but it peeked out anyway. “What I meant is, you’re twenty-three. There are surfers your age still on the pro circuit.”

  “Some even older, if you can believe it,” he said, chuckling.

  I turned farther in my seat, so I was facing him—wanting to see his face as he responded. I’d wondered about this for a long time. “So why did you leave so young? You were at the top of your game.”

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, yet his voice remained casual. “Sometimes, it’s better to leave at the top than to slide away into mediocrity.”

  Jake mediocre? Not likely. But…could he possibly fear it? “Is that what you thought would happen if you didn’t leave?”

  He shook his head and paused as he reverse parked the Jeep. “To tell you the truth, I was restless.”

  I thought about that for a second. “You wanted more than a world title?”

  “It’s hard to explain.” He turned off the ignition then rubbed two fingers across his forehead. “It was like, I’d done that, won the title—time to move on. Try something else.” He shrugged again.

  Jake had always lived his life large. He’d been famous since before his birth—the baby that almost broke up Heaven’s Garden. When the singer fell pregnant to the wild boy lead guitarist and left the band, everyone in Australia knew of baby Jake. Then, when he became famous in his own right for surfing and later his business, his family history added that extra dash of spice to articles. Photos of his long-dead father still occasionally accompanied his own.

  Maybe because of his past, maybe in spite of it, the word “overachiever” had basically been created for him.

  But I was beginning to understand something else. He’d said he came up with his plans for Scarlett because he’d been bored at work. He needed a new challenge. And now with this extra morsel of information about leaving pro surfing…it seemed Jake had a restless soul. Either that, or a short attention span.

  We opened our doors and stepped out.

  “By the way,” I said as he set the keyless lock, “if anyone asks, what do I tell them I’m doing for you?”

  He came around to stand beside me, hands in front pockets. “The truth. That we’re going over some of your designs for my shop and you’re giving me some personal fashion advice at the same time.”

  “You don’t care if people know that?”

  His forehead creased in a slight frown. “No, why would I?”

  “No reason.” I didn’t know why I was surprised it didn’t bother him, but I was pleased anyway. I smiled at him.

  When we walked through the door, I went straight over to give Barbara a hug. “It’s great to see you again.”

  “You too, Annalise. Who’s your friend?” Barb looked over at Jake with an expression suspiciously like lustful admiration. The admiration itself didn’t seem strange—I’d certainly looked at him admiringly myself before—but my reaction was a little disturbing. I was assailed by a strong urge to walk over to him and wrap an arm around his waist. Perhaps even grab his arm and rest it on my shoulders. Proprietorial jealousy. This did not bode well for passing him over to Scarlett.

  “Jake Maxwell,” I told her. “We’re looking for a couple of shirts and slacks for him.”

  “Jake Maxwell?” she whispered, her eyes widening. “I didn’t know you were friends. Are you two…?”

  “No!” Realizing I’d said it too adamantly, I clamped my jaw shut. Barb just smiled mysteriously and blended into the background.

  Sighing, I walked over to where Jake was looking at clothes and mentally filed the jealousy issue away to obsess about later.

  “What do you think?” He held up a burgundy shirt.

  “Yep, that’s nice, try it on. And while you’re in there, I’ll get some other things together. If you like any, try them on and let me see.”

  “Let you see me try them on?” He raised one eyebrow but kept a blank face.

  My breath caught in my throat as images assaulted my brain. Jake pulling his T-shirt over his head, his abs taught from the action. Jake with a dress shirt hanging open as he pushed his arms through the sleeves. Jake grabbing my hand and pulling me into the changing room, then backing me against the wall as he closed the curtain.

  Crap. How was I going
to make it through the next half hour, let alone the rest of the day?

  I straightened my shoulders. “Jake, you said you weren’t going to flirt.”

  His face was a picture of angelic innocence. “That wasn’t flirting, that was an actual misunderstanding.”

  “Do you remember we’re doing this for Scarlett? Don’t spoil my good image of you by flirting with me while you’re chasing someone else.”

  “You have an image of me? What’s it like?” He lowered his voice and leaned close to my ear. “Am I wearing anything in this image?”

  My knees wobbled. I was surrounded by the scent of soap and ocean spray.

  “Jake…” I said, hoping my voice sounded stern, and not like the moan I suspected it was.

  “All right, I’ll be in the changing room if you need me.” He started to walk off but turned to look back. “Just don’t say you weren’t invited.” Then he disappeared behind the curtain.

  I felt a blush creep up my neck and turned back to the clothes racks to hide it. If I could just keep my hormones under control—a task Jake was making more difficult all the time—this makeover could be fun. Then, when it was over, I’d willingly hand him over to Scarlett. I knew I could do it. Of course I could.

  Though, I passed the clothes to Barbara to take in to him, just in case I was wrong.

  Jake emerged from the changing room soon after in black dress slacks and a mustard shirt I’d sent in. The colors and cut were sensational, and even he seemed pleased.

  “Good choice, Annalise. How’d you know my size?”

  I wasn’t about to tell him there weren’t many aspects of his body that had escaped my notice over the years, so truthfully said, “Working in fashion, I can usually guess a person’s size.”

  Luckily, he seemed to accept that and headed back to the changing room, but I made a mental note to do a better job of hiding my over-familiarity with All Things Jake.

  After flicking through more racks of clothes, I picked out an indigo linen shirt and paused. There was something familiar about this shirt. I turned it over, looking for what element I’d recognized. Nothing special about it… Then I realized—it was almost identical to the shirt my headless man wore in my dream collage.

  My stomach pitched and rolled. Was I subconsciously using this makeover to turn Jake into Mr. Headless? I thrust the shirt back on the rack and grabbed a cream one instead.

  But thoughts of the man in my dream collage didn’t fade. I remembered the realization I’d had the night before at my parents’—that I’d potentially undermined my chance at a relationship by always reaching for a fairytale, my headless prince, who wasn’t grounded in reality.

  Add to that the lack of perceptible pride from my parents during dinnertime conversation and two areas of the collage were looking shaky.

  And since I was having an impromptu collage assessment, I needed to consider Mindy being under the weather. My collage was starting to look less like becoming reality by the minute.

  “Annalise, what do you think?” Jake stood before me in a powder blue shirt, adjusting the cuffs.

  What did I think? That before me stood a vision of masculine beauty. That I’d give most anything to touch just my fingertips to that vision. That he took my breath away simply by breathing. And that Jake was not, nor would he ever be, my headless man.

  “It looks great, Jake. Here,” I thrust the cream linen shirt at him, “try this one on as well.”

  He took the shirt but cocked his head to the side, lips parted, as if about to ask a question. Before he could say anything, Barbara was there, fussing around him, commenting on the fit of the clothes, adjusting the shirt across his shoulders, asking him about his comfort—things that normally came to me with ease. But watching Jake look at his reflection in the mirror, I couldn’t string a sentence together, let alone one that made sense. What would I do at the next shop when Barbara wasn’t there to cover for me?

  I mentally practiced suitably detached responses I could call on quickly when Jake was trying on clothes.

  Yes, that one’s flattering.

  Hmm, the fall of those pants doesn’t suit your shape as well as the others.

  Yes, that shirt makes me want to run my lips along your naked shoulders.

  Unfortunately, some of the backup comments were less appropriate than others. I was doomed.

  …

  Jake

  After trying on a pile of clothes, I bought the black pants and both the yellowy and dark red shirts, and we set off again.

  Annalise directed me to a local mall, and after I’d parked, I went around to her door and hung an arm around her shoulders. It was something I did to Kelly all the time, and often to female friends, but Annalise flinched then stopped walking.

  Confused, I paused beside her and watched her take a shuddering breath. “Annalise, what’s wrong?”

  As she met my eyes, she looked like she was steeling herself. “Jake, I need to say something,” she said in a rush. “You may be an incurable flirt, but I don’t appreciate you flirting with me. We both know it’s going nowhere. I’m enjoying helping you, but if you want me to continue, you’re going to have to promise there’ll be no more flirting and no more touching.” When I didn’t respond straight away, she added, “I’m serious, Jake.”

  Ouch. Those words stung. And she was right. I already knew we couldn’t have a fling—not with Kelly’s best friend—and here I was flirting anyway.

  Yeah, the apple never fell far from the tree.

  You’re just like me. You’ll never amount to anything.

  “Okay.” I winced when my voice came out more of a rasp. I’d caused this, which meant it was my responsibility to get us back on an even keel, so I shrugged as carelessly as I could and found a smile. “Come on, let’s get some lunch before we start shopping. I think I’ll need the strength.”

  Over sushi in a little hole-in-the-wall place, I really began to wish I hadn’t put my damn arm around her. I just hadn’t been thinking. Now an awkward formality had sprung up between us, and I didn’t know how to fix it—or whether I should even try. Annalise ate her avocado sushi and pretended everything was fine while giving hesitant smiles and telling stilted stories. Maybe after we started shopping again, things would smooth out on their own.

  After lunch, we headed for a menswear shop. I picked up a green shirt with black pinstripes and held it against myself for Annalise’s opinion.

  “That’s nice, Jake,” she said with a tentative smile. “Try it on with this one, and I’ll keep looking.” She handed me a black shirt with a white and gray pattern before turning away.

  “Okay.” The last thing I saw as I closed the door to the changing room was Annalise flicking through racks of clothes.

  As I pulled my T-shirt over my head then unbuttoned the black and white shirt, I was suddenly aware of the intimacy of this arrangement. I was standing bare-chested, almost within reach of Annalise, about to put on clothes she’d picked out for me. I’d been shirtless around women before. In fact, given the amount of time I’d spent at the beach over my life, I’d probably spent almost as much time without a shirt on as the time I was covered. But it was different today. More so even than it had been at the first shop. Why was that?

  I slid my arms through the sleeves, feeling the cool fabric where it touched my skin and again thought of Annalise waiting just outside. Thought of her skin.

  Crap. Why did my mind keep wandering to her? Stripping the shirt off, I blinked hard and shook my head, unwilling to let my brain put sexy thoughts and Annalise together. She was off-limits.

  I’d tried long-term once—had asked a girl I was crazy about to marry me, but she’d thrown my proposal back in my face. Turned out she knew me better than I’d known myself back then, and, now that I was wiser, I wouldn’t make the same mistake again. I couldn’t manage a long-term relationship, and anything else would be asking for trouble with Annalise.

  I threw the green shirt on and stepped out the changing room door.
Annalise’s gaze went to the black and white shirt sitting lopsided on its hanger. “Did you try that one already?”

  Nodding, I grabbed it and thrust it at the sales assistant standing nearby. “It didn’t feel right.”

  “Okay, good,” Annalise said. “If we’re going to work out what your personal style is, then how the clothes make you feel is important. What about this one?”

  I looked down at the shirt as it hung on my frame. The only thing that mattered was that I hadn’t been thinking about Annalise’s skin when I tried it on, so it felt neutral. “This one’s fine.”

  We bought the green shirt and picked up another pair of slacks in an adjoining store before I had to call a time-out. There were only so many clothes stores I could enter before I went insane.

  “I’m not used to this much shopping. I think that’s all I can stand in one day. Tell you what, how about I take you out for dinner to thank you for the time and effort you’ve spent on me?”

  A small frown line appeared between her eyebrows. “I don’t think…”

  I blew out a breath. If we were to keep working together during this makeover, I needed to find a way to see her as my little sister’s best friend again. Meeting on neutral ground when I was fully clothed seemed the best way to do it. Plus I wanted a chance to talk about things other than myself so I could get everything back to the way it should be.

  “Come on, Annalise,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “I feel bad about what you said before. You were right, and I obviously upset you. Let me make it up to you.”

  “Okay. I’ll agree if I can choose the restaurant and we make it part of our work.” She didn’t quite meet my eyes as she agreed, but then that was part of the reason for suggesting it in the first place. Hopefully after tonight, things would be back to how they’d been a couple of days ago.

  I nodded. “Deal.”

  “You can drop me off at home and pick me up again at seven,” she said, her voice business-like. “I’ll make the reservations.”