Free Coming Undone by Susan Andersen

with I-5 outside of Medford, he scowled at the tailgate of her truck as she roared up the road in front of him. Then his thoughts bounced back to the same damn situation he’d been stewing over since two-thirty this morning. The one that had thrown him and P.J. and their history and his reason for being in her company into one big jumble.
    It was messy enough already. What the devil had he been thinking to bring sex into the equation?
    He’d love to claim it was all part and parcel of their ongoing attempts this past week to outdo each other. But even though he hadn’t hesitated to give Peej the impression that it had been nothing more than a golden opportunity to one-up her, he couldn’t sell that story to himself. Because rattling her and making her aware of him hadn’t been a result of any genius design on his part. He’d simply touched her, looked at her in those worn little red boxer shorts and snug tank top, and his brain had short-circuited and his mouth had started spewing out the thoughts that had been crowding his mind, not hers.
    Then he’d had the stones to tell her he was a professional. God, that was rich. He’d be lucky if she didn’t slap a sexual harassment charge against him.
    His brows snapped together. What had he been thinking? His professionalism had long been one of, if not the most important aspects of his life. So why the hell was he endangering everything he’d worked so hard to accomplish to play who’s-on-top-now with P.J.?
    Because while it might feel like fun and games, it was threatening his self-respect. And unnecessarily so—he’d known a week ago he didn’t need to personally accompany her until the tour officially began. But it had been surprisingly enjoyable to match wits with her, and his life had been so fucking serious for such a long time. And, okay, so maybe he felt more alive than he had in ages, but that was a piss-poor excuse. He only had two things he could count on in his life—his family and his work. That wasn’t so frigging much that he could afford to blow off one of them.
    Thinking of the other fifty percent reminded him of an event he’d missed at home. Happy to divert thoughts that kept circling like vultures waiting for the corpse, he picked up his cell phone from the seat next to him and punched his sister’s number.
    The phone on the other end of the line rang three times before it was picked up. “Hello,” Victoria said and her voice, warm and familiar, was a balm to his raw nerves.
    “Hey, Tori.”
    “Jared! How are you doing? Have you seen P.J. yet?”
    “I’m fine. And yeah, I’ve seen her.” Several times, in a number of situations.
    She laughed. “Dumb question. Of course you have. John told me you were traveling with her—I just forgot for a minute.”
    “Ah, caught you at work, did I?”
    “Yes. I’m trying out a new design, so my thoughts are a little scattered. It’s a Greek temple. Very different, but fun. Although I’m having a tough time imagining what kind of dolls will feel at home in it.”
    “Maybe Goddess Barbie or Toga Ken. Or maybe it’s actually for an adult. Your dollhouses are so amazing I’m guessing they aren’t always ordered for kids.”
    “You sweet-talker, you.” Then her voice turned brisk. “But enough about me. Tell me all about P.J.”
    “She’s still fast on her feet and a smart mouth. Other than that, not much to tell.”
    “Not much to—Jared Hamilton! Don’t tell me you haven’t rekindled your friendship!”
    Shit. This was exactly the conversation he’d hoped to avoid. “I’m here on a job, Victoria.”
    “And your point is? That little girl was the closest friend you ever had. You can’t seriously be holding yourself as emotionally distant from her as you do from everyone but me and Rocket and the kids.”
    “Christ. What is it with you guys? Like I told John, we were close, but that was a lifetime ago. She tossed the friendship away, not me!” But feeling cracks developing in his