Page 70 of Bitter Secrets

“I have nine brothers,” he repeated. “I’m the oldest.”

He began to list their names, spouses, and children. Slowly, the sound of that howling wind faded and the cold that had encased her heart began to thaw.

“How many nieces and nephews do you have?”

“Forty-two.”

She dropped her sandwich. “How do you remember their birthdays?”

“My calendar is very full.”

Her gaze moved to Johan. “And you?”

“I don’t have family.”

“Oh.”

His eyes lit with humor. “I help Mo with his, so I guess it evens out.”

“Neither of you are married?” They shook their heads. “Kids?” Another shake. “Do you take vacation?” Another shake. “Why not?”

“Compared to what I was doing, thisisvacation,” Mo said.

She opened her mouth to ask what the hell that meant, but his steely gaze dissuaded her.

“I’ve been everywhere I wanted to be,” Johan said. “I’m set.”

“Finish your sandwich,” Mo said.

She gave him a dirty look, but obeyed his order. He continued to distract her with the tales of his family, and went into great detail about how to brew a proper cup of Turkish tea. She managed to remember five of his brothers’ names before his phone rang. Even though his expression didn’t change, she knew who it was.

“Don’t answer!” She tried to swipe the phone from his hand, but he got to his feet as he answered. “Sir.”

He listened, nodded, and then hung up.

“Another coffee?” he asked Johan, who nodded.

Without another word, he went to the counter to put in another order. She glanced at Johan who shrugged. She grabbed her pen and jotted down as much as she could remember about Mo’s family, and didn’t look up when he placed a steaming cup in front of her.

“He has business in Paris. He’ll be back this evening.”

She didn’t give any indication that she heard him, but inside, the last of her panic drained away. Reflexively, she reached for the cup and drank without looking to see what it was. Chamomile. Was his choice of herbal tea deliberate or a coincidence? Either way, she was grateful.

When her hand cramped, she reached for her laptop. Writing longhand was her version of an artist’s sketch before setting paint to canvas or stretching before a run. It was a mental exercise to prepare her for the real work. As her computer booted up, she watched a man and woman make their way to a nearby table. The woman’s smile lit up the room while her eyes shined like brand-new pennies. Based on their body language and the single white rose she held, Jasmine assumed they were on a first date. The woman hung on to every word he uttered. Is that how she used to look at Roth?

You don’t have a nickname?

She heard the ghost of her younger self as clearly as if she sat at the next table. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she sat across from Roth in a coffee shop and gave him the name he made her scream last night.

Nobody’s ever called you Jamie? I think it suits you.

She locked the memories away and wished she could delete them permanently. It was all a lie. She was so gullible, so fuckingstupidto believe that a man like him didn’t have an ulterior motive for inviting her to coffee. He pegged her right. She was so lonely that she leapt at the chance to spend time with him and blabbered the whole time, reinforcing what easy prey she really was. She’d been awed by him. Just remembering how flattered she’d been to have his attention made her ill.

Her standards were so low that he didn’t even have to court her. There were no roses, no strolls in the moonlight… They went from acquaintances to fuck buddies. Sex was all their relationship was based on. Nothing had changed.

She ground her teeth as she accessed her manuscript and opened a fresh sheet. She didn’t waste time wondering about a good first sentence or how this scene was going to fit into the plot of the story. She just started typing.

Juliet stared at Rex. “It was all a lie?”

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