Free Now and Forever by Danielle Steel

when she'd teased him about walking around the house reading his work, stark naked, and with a pencil behind each ear. It was the laughter of splashing water at each other in the shower, of tickling him when he got into bed. It was Jessie, and it suddenly made him smile, as he hadn't smiled since this whole nightmare had begun.
    "Lady, you are absolutely screwy, but I adore you. Will you please get me out of this shithouse so I can come home and--" He stopped on the word and looked suddenly pale.
    "Rape me? Why not?" And then they grinned again, but quietly. She was okay now. She had Ian right in front of her, she knew she was loved and safe and protected. With Ian suddenly gone and that incredible silence, it had been as though he were dead. But he wasn't dead. He was alive. He would always be alive, and he was all hers. Suddenly she wanted to dance, standing there in the jail in the midst of pimps and thieves, she wanted to dance. She had Ian back.
    "Mr. Clarke, how come I love you so much?"
    "Because you happen to be mentally retarded, but I love you that way. Hey, lady, could you be serious for a moment?" His face showed that he meant it, but Jessie still had laughter in her tired, bloodshot eyes.
    "What?"
    "I meant what I said about paying you back. I will."
    "Don't worry about it."
    "But I will. I think it's time I went back to some kind of job anyway. It doesn't work like this, Jess, and you know it too."
    "Yes, it does. What do you mean, 'it doesn't work'?" She looked frightened again.
    "I mean I don't like being kept, even if it is for the supposed benefit of my writing career. It's lousy for my ego, and worse for our marriage."
    "Bullshit."
    "No bullshit. I'm serious. But this isn't the time or the place to talk about it. I just want you to know, though, that whatever money you put out on this, you're getting back. Is that clear?" She looked evasive, and Ian's voice got louder in her ear. "I mean it, Jessie. Don't fuck around with me on this. You're not paying for it."
    "Okay." She looked at him pointedly, and at the same moment a guard tapped her on the shoulder. The visit was over. And they had so much left to say.
    "Take it easy, sweetheart. I'll see you in court tomorrow." He had seen the stricken look on her face.
    "Can you call me tonight?"
    He shook his head. "No, they won't let me now."
    "Oh." But I need to hear you ... I need you, Ian ... I ...
    "Get yourself a good night's sleep before the court thing tomorrow. Promise?" She nodded, looking like a child, and he smiled at her. "I love you so much, Jess. Will you please take care, for me?"
    She nodded again. "And you too? Ian ... I ... I'd die without you."
    "Don't think like that. Now go on, I'll see you tomorrow. And Jess ... thank you. For everything."
    "I love you."
    "I love you too."
    On the last words, the phones suddenly went dead in their hands, and she waved at him as she followed the flock of visitors into the elevator. She was alone with them again now. Ian was gone. But it was different this time. She felt full of the way he looked and sounded, of the color of his hair, and even the smell of his skin. He was vivid again now. He was still with her.

Chapter 7

    Zina and Katsuko were both busy with customers when Jessica walked in, and she had a moment to compose herself in her office before joining them. It was crazy, really. Guess where I've been? To visit Ian in jail. From city prison to Lady J in one swift leap. Madness.
    The girls were helping a couple of women who wanted dresses for Palm Springs. They were overweight, overdressed, overbearing, and not overly friendly. And Jessica found it nearly impossible to work. She kept thinking of Ian, of the jail, of Martin Schwartz, of Inspector Houghton. The inspector's eyes seem to haunt her.
    "And what does your husband do?" One of the women asked her, while looking over a rack of their new velvet skirts. They were a rich Bordeaux color with black satin trim. Copies of St. Laurent.
    "My husband? He