"It means it's time for you to go."
"Fine," she said. "But I'm still taking the book."
I shrugged. "Suit yourself." Signed or not, the book was replaceable.Or retrievable.I still couldn’t decide which.
Later.
I sent the duo on their way, looking decidedly less happy than when they'd arrived.
Good.
I wasn't happy myself.
Becka was proving to be a problem in more ways than one. And like most problems, I'd find a way to fix it, one way or another.
Until then, I'd be smart to keep my distance.
It was a good plan – nice and neat. The plan lasted for less than twelve hours before things got surprisingly messy.
And I had only myself to blame.
Chapter 28
Becka
Ten hours later, I was still stewing. Not only had Jack practically called me a psycho, he'd neglected to retrieve my book. Instead, he'd simply let those two girls waltz out of the conference room, as if theyweren'ttaking something that didn't belong to them.
I hated thieves.
My stepdad had been the biggest thief I'd ever met. Oh sure, he wasn't a criminal of the smash-and-grab variety, but he'd still managed to chalk up an impressive array of financial crimes, many that harmed people in our own community.
So yes, I realized that a signed paperback wasn't such a huge deal in the big scheme of things.
And yet, it still grated. The fact that Jack had actually held the book in his hands, signed it tomyname, and then let those girls carry if off anyway, well, it was making a little crazy.
Notpsycho.
Just crazy. Therewasa difference.
Unfortunately, this same craziness made it nearly impossible for me to sleep that night, even in spite of my posh hotel room and comfy mattress.
At nearly 3 a.m., I gave up entirely. I crawled out of bed, got dressed, and left my room. I wandered down to the lobby with a different paperback – onenotwritten by Jack Ward – in hopes that a change of scenery might help me relax.
I found a nice cozy chair behind a big potted plant and tried to focus on my book – a new one that I'd purchased in the hotel gift shop for just such an emergency.
The effort was a total waste. I couldn’t focus at all. My thoughts kept returning to Jack, wondering what exactly he was up to.
Other than the actual book-signing, I'd barely seen him, unless I wanted to count our tense discussion in the powder room.
Either he hated my company, or he was the least sociable person I'd ever met.
As my thoughts swirled, and my attention wavered, I happened to look up just in time to see something that made me stop and stare.
It was Jack Ward, striding in through the hotel's main entrance. His clothes were dark, and his hair was rumpled. He wasalmostsmiling.
He looked, well, satisfied, like he'd just gotten lucky.
I froze.Oh.
