She wasn’t sure she liked the way the conversation was turning. “I—”
“No more,” Steve interrupted. “I’ve said enough. More than enough. I want to keep my job.” He crossed the room but paused at the door and grinned. “Good luck.”
Was she going to need it?
Kim considered showering and changing first, but she felt too worked up; she wanted answers, and she wanted them now. Everything seemed to be falling apart. And now it looked like Steve was well and truly out of the running as potential itch-scratcher—thanks to Jake.
Why the hell would he warn the guys off her? She reckoned it was his protective streak. At least she hoped it was, because another, even less welcome, option nagged at her mind. She had a flashback to that almost-kiss, the one she’d convinced herself had never nearly happened, and she shook her head to dispel the image. No, it was definitely a protection thing, and it was time he learned that she could stand up for herself.
With that in mind, she squared her shoulders, marched through the swinging double doors, and jammed her finger on the elevator button.
Margie was leaving as Kim arrived.
“He’s expecting you,” she said, giving Kim’s outfit a small smile. “Sure you don’t want to change first?”
Her workout clothes were quite revealing—she’d bought them for that reason—but she doubted Jake would notice. His door was slightly ajar. She pushed it open and stepped inside.
Jake stood by the window with his back to her, hands shoved in his pockets. He didn’t turn as she entered, but she could sense waves of tension radiating from him.
She crossed the room silently and came to stand beside him. Finally, he swung around to face her, and a slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Glancing down, she realized her feet were bare, and for a second she wished she’d taken the time to change.
“What was that all about?” she asked.
“That?”
“With Steve?”
“Shouldn’t that be my question? I don’t expect to trip over giggling, groping employees every few minutes.”
“I was not giggling.”
“So you admit you were groping?”
“Maybe.” She needed someone to talk to, someone to advise her, and after all, Jake was her role model in all things of a sex-related nature. He was the obvious person. She took a deep breath. “Can I talk to you about something?”
“Go ahead.”
Trouble was, now she didn’t know where to start. She studied her bare toes while she got up the courage to continue. “You know there hasn’t been anyone since Michael?”
“I know.”
“Well, I haven’t wanted anyone, and I’d sort of gotten used to the idea that perhaps I’m just not attractive to the opposite sex. And then—”
“Then what?” Jake interrupted, his face reflecting the utter amazement in his voice.
He wasn’t making this easy for her. “Listen. I’ve gotten used to the idea that men don’t fancy me. I’m obviously not sexy.”
“Where the hell did you get the idea that you aren’t sexy?”
“Well, Michael never wanted anything to do with me like that.” Not after the first time, anyway.
Jake stared at her incredulously once again. “Of course Michael didn’t want you. He was gay!”
She gasped, shock numbing her brain. “What?”
“I presumed you knew. You mean all this time—”
“Michael? Gay?” She flopped in the chair behind her. “Are you sure?”
But even as she spoke, the pieces of a particularly difficult jigsaw puzzle fell into place, as though this amazing fact should have been clear all along. She sat for a few moments and reviewed her past.
Her marriage wasn’t a subject she liked to dwell on. She’d been eighteen when she met Michael, home from boarding school and desperately unhappy. Holidays had always been a problem; since her mother’s death eight years earlier, she’d found it impossible to connect with her father. She loved him, but they invariably clashed, and she felt as though she intruded on his orderly existence.
Also, looking back, she acknowledged that after seven years in an all-girls boarding school, she’d been a very immature eighteen-year-old and unprepared for real life.
Then she’d met Michael. Michael had been completely outside her experience. Considerably older, smooth, sophisticated, he had swept her off her feet in what she now realized had been an orchestrated campaign to break down her defenses. The one thing he hadn’t done, she reflected wryly, was seduce her. Now she understood why. During the courtship, he’d kept both his drinking and his temper under wraps, which proved he could do it if he wanted to. Once married to her, he hadn’t cared.
“You mean you didn’t know?” Jake asked.
She shook her head. “But how did you?”
“Because I had him investigated, of course. The first time we met, you had a sprained wrist and a split lip. I needed to know what else that bastard was capable of.”
“But why did you bother?”
“Do you think I would have left you with him for a moment if I thought he was abusing you in bed?” She widened her eyes at the ferocity in his voice. “It was bad enough letting you go back to him at all, but I told myself you had to leave of your own free will.” He shook his head. “Why did you marry him in the first place? I could never understand it.”
Why exactly had she married Michael? “Because he told me he loved me,” she replied at last. Despite how pathetic the confession made her sound, it was the truth. But not all the truth. “Of course, there was also the fact that my father ordered me not to marry him.” She shrugged defensively; she wasn’t particularly proud of being so contrary. “You know me—I was never good at taking orders.”
“Still aren’t,” Jake muttered. “You probably get it from your father.”
“You know my father?”
“Our paths may have crossed once or twice.”
Kim frowned but stored the comment away for future consideration. Her brain still reeled from his earlier revelations—both that Jake had bothered to investigate Michael and that her ex-husband was homosexual.
“I can’t believe it. Michael was gay.” She shook her head again. “Well, actually that’s not strictly true—it all makes sense now. But why did he marry me?”
“At a guess—family pressure.”