Free Valentine's Child by Nancy Bush Page A

his mother had abdicated to the only Beckett male, well… he would just have to handle things his way, and she could stew. That is, if she ever found out. Since taking over the business wholeheartedly, Jake had made a point of forcing his mother to stay out of his way. She still fought him, but Jake had learned the power of “No” — “No, I’m not interested in your help… No, I’ve got everything under control… No, it’s time for you to relinquish control… No, thank you …”
    She might hate it, but there wasn’t a hell of a lot she could do about it.
    Outside his window lay a second-story view of Oceantides’ main street — a crooked two-lane avenue where lazy traffic crept between the shops, and intermittent rain spattered the cars and pavement. Late January with weather alternating between stormy and furious, and calm and benign. Yesterday was hell, today was okay. Life goes on…
    Watching a couple of kids, hands clasped together, surge between the traffic and scamper down the street, Jake was struck by an urgent desire to run. Run! Run away forever. The feeling was so strong he gripped the arms of his chair, heart thudding. His chest ached. Then the wave passed and he sank backward, nearly breathless.
    He shook his head in wonder, afraid to fully examine this sudden panic attack. He wasn’t normally prone to paranoia and stress. With a niggling feeling that he was somehow being a coward, unable to face his true self, he shrugged the moment’s anxiety away. Nothing to worry about. A symptom of too much reflection and not enough action. Not his style.
    Across the street and nearly out of his range of vision, he could just spy the sign for Bernie’s Pizza glowing dully under gray skies. Was Sherry there? The two went together in his mind: Bernie’s Pizza and Sherry Sterling. Although Ryan Delmato was still a friend, Jake had scarcely set foot inside Bernie’s since Sherry’s disappearance right before high school graduation. At first the idea of going in was just too painful, and then it had just seemed wrong somehow — a symbol of all that wasted, high school emotional trauma.
    God, it was good to grow up.
    The telephone intercom buzzed. “Caroline’s here,” Barb, his part-time receptionist, sang out.
    “Send her in,” he replied in his mock-important voice. Although the Beckett holdings were vast, the actual day-to-day operations were minimal and using an intercom amused him when he could just as well shout through the partially open door or use his cell.
    But, hey, the trappings of wealth and success were supposed to be important, weren’t they?
    When Caroline came into the room, Jake found himself holding his breath. There was a quality about his fiancée that always put him a little on guard, even though he truly cared about her. Sometimes she was cool to the point of icy — a personality trait that bothered her a great deal, but one she couldn’t seem to change. Sometimes she was overly friendly and clingy, as if she were trying to subvert her own inherent reserve by pure force. Jake had told her to “relax” so many times, he’d given up. She was what she was. Take it or leave it.
    Sometimes he wondered…
    Today she wore an emerald-green shirt and black slacks, her blonde hair tied back into a low ponytail, her face nearly obscured by a huge potted fern from which she peeked around, smiling.
    “I told you that you need a little life in here,” she said. “Look at this office. It’s so sterile. ”
    Jake shrugged in agreement, just as he always did when she fussed over things that meant zero to him. This office. This job.
    This life …?
    Setting the plant on his desk, she leaned over and deposited a quick peck on his cheek. He caught a whiff of perfume, heavy, expensive and nameless, before she backed away. Caroline couldn’t handle hugs and sloppy affection, but then, Jake realized wryly, neither could he. They were both dispassionate to a fault, which was why, he