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Even now, the motor was running. His dark shades once again covered his eyes and his face was expressionless.
Good. That told her he hadn’t heard what Alex had just said. Jacob was simply doing his job as her bodyguard, and quite capably minding his own business.
For once, she was grateful he had come.
Determined to behave in as composed a manner as he did, she returned the tissue to her handbag, unused. She would not conduct herself like her cousin Rhiannon. Poor, weak, gentle, delicate Rhiannon. Everybody in their family tiptoed around her. She was the opposite of Isabel.
Her uncle, her mother, her brothers and her cousins, they all expected Isabel to be perfectly capable—cheery, pleasant, put together, in charge, competent. She was reasonable, the one whom people looked to for direction. At the wedding, they would expect her to organize the disparate factions of the family into harmony. It was what she did.
It was what her father had loved and admired so much about her. The main reason he’d praised her and depended upon her the way he had.
Her tears started leaking again. She blinked them away. The pain was just too fresh. Too soon to get over and stuff inside her, the way she always did. She couldn’t lie to everyone else about how she truly felt, not just yet.
She turned to Jacob. “Please take me back to my room.”
Jacob sat, unmoving. The SUV remained in place.
“Please,” Isabel said more forcefully than she’d intended.
Jacob’s hand rested on the gearshift beside her. A large hand. Masculine. The opposite of Alex’s lawyer hands, manicured and soft. Jacob’s skin was rough, the nails bitten low. She sensed that he fought with these hands. He held weapons with these hands.
“Isabel, be reasonable,” he said in a low voice. “You need to go to Vermont. You’re expected there.”
She held herself tighter around her midsection. He was right, but for some reason his words made her angry. The rough corduroy barn coat she’d worn for her adventure to New England was suddenly too much—she felt hot and suffocated. She couldn’t fake a good mood or be reasonable right now.
“Take me to my room,” she said, her voice rising.
“Isabel...” Jacob’s voice turned gentler, the gruffness softened. It didn’t match those rough hands.
She wiped a tear that had escaped. “Drive, I said!”
He obeyed. No words or excuses, he just checked the side window and then carefully pulled into the street.
Of course, a traffic light changed to red and they had to wait. A long, painful, silent wait. She stared at her hands clutched in her lap. Her mind was racing, and she couldn’t stop it.
What if she did go to the wedding and she couldn’t control her emotions? What if she cried or raged in front of everybody? Her uncle? Malcolm? Her cousins? What if they blamed her for him leaving? What if she’d made a mistake in coming forward to ask her uncle to be named CEO after him, instead of her cousin Malcolm, who, until now, had always been thought of as the heir apparent?
Scenarios flashed of her uncle shaking his head at her, while everyone else was happy and paired up, celebrating committed love, except her. Her mind was running ahead, wanting to think through everything all at once, needing to process the best way to salvage this situation. She just didn’t see one.
Stay in New York for the weekend and compose herself, or go to Vermont and risk exposing herself? They were both potentially bad decisions for her, each with their downsides and risks. And if Jacob showed pity for her over this predicament she found herself in—that she’d made for herself—then she didn’t know what she would do.
She might have to jump out of the SUV and walk back to her room on her own.
* * *
JACOB COULD NOT let Isabel go back to her room. No matter how bad he felt about making her attend that wedding, he needed to remain hard and professional. He needed Isabel to stay in the SUV so that he could drive her to Vermont and meet John Sage.
He glanced at her, pale and trembling in the seat beside him. This was killing him. She was upset, and she’d proven herself to be a woman who didn’t normally get upset. She was mortified about losing her composure in front of him. He didn’t like it, either. But in two minutes, they would be in front of her residence hall, and if he didn’t do something fast, she would be out the door and gone before he had the chance to help himself.
He looked at her, one hand on the door. She was getting ready to bolt. He needed to convince her to stay. But he wasn’t used to talking with those he protected. He was trained for the opposite, in fact.
He’d gently put her in the front seat with him rather than the rear seat, and that was bad enough.
His hand tightened on the wheel. He felt for her, he really did. He’d been in her shoes once. But he wasn’t going to breathe a word of that.
At the next light, he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Now what? What could make her want to go to that wedding? If he could just get her to trust him to take her there. To trust that the best thing for her would be to stand tall. Screw the boyfriend.
“You’re better off,” he said abruptly.
She looked startled. “What?”
Damn. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud. “Nothing.”
“You listened to us back there?”
Damn again. Jacob scrubbed his hand over his head. “I had to be sure you were safe.”
She looked even more upset with that explanation, so he changed course, even taking off his sunglasses in hopes of making the situation better. “I’ll never say a word to anyone about what you say or do in my presence. Not even to the people who hired me.”
He glanced at her. She was listening. She was open to him.
“Do you promise?” she asked in a low voice.
“Yes. Absolutely.” He nodded. Here was a key to Isabel Sage—she didn’t want anybody to know her private business. He got that.
He ran a hand across his mouth. What was it that Alex had said to her? You’ll run your uncle’s company someday. No doubt you’ll be the one chosen. If Jacob had to bet, Isabel was in competition with her cousin. Malcolm, the groom. Her goal to be chosen as leader obviously meant a great deal to her.
“Here’s what my instructions are,” Jacob said. “The only thing I have to report to my dispatcher is if our plans change. In that case, I’ll need to call in the updated itinerary.” He stared steadily at her. “So if you decide not to go north, then I’ll have to call and tell them you’re not coming. From there, that information will immediately be reported to the employer—your uncle.”
“Can you please not do that?” she whispered.
The plea seemed to pierce him directly in the breastbone.
“I’d just...rather make the phone calls myself,” she said. Tears were leaking again.
This was horrible. He hated to see her cry.
“He’s not worth it,” Jacob snapped.
She blinked. His words had come out harsher than he’d intended. She turned in her seat, her expression telling him she was obviously going to stick up for the bastard ex-boyfriend.
“You don’t understand!” she said with more passion than he’d given her credit for.
“I think I do understand. Your boyfriend showed up unannounced as if he were doing you a favor. He got you all happy to see him, and then he dumped you, right before you’re scheduled to go and do something that’s clearly important to your future, so now he’s affected your ability to perform the way you need to. But he trots off anyway, feeling not only satisfied with himself, but as if he’s a hero, when in reality he’s the exact damn opposite.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What planet do you come from? How can you assume all that?”
“I can assume it because it’s true. Isn’t it?”
“It’s not all his fault.”
“You feel guilty?” he demanded. “You?” Jacob’s voice shook with anger he hadn’t expected.
He was going to make this worse if he didn’t calm down.
* * *
ISABEL DIDN’T KNOW what she was feeling. All she knew was that Jacob seemed furious on her behalf. It was...shocking.
And a wee bit flattering.
She bit her lip and stared at the red light—yet another one, Jacob seemed to be attracting each and every stop along their route—and tried not to look at him.
“How long were you two a couple?” His voice was so low she had to strain to hear him. “Were you engaged?”
Should she answer? He seemed as if he was on her side. He seemed...to intrinsically believe in her.
“Sort of,” she whispered. “I mean...” She glanced at him. His eyes were warm and understanding. She really felt as though she could trust him.
But this was madness. She’d only just met him and she was a Sage—she couldn’t trust outsiders. This fact had been hammered into her head growing up.
“Please take me home, Jacob.”
His jaw tightened. He stared harder at her.
“Take. Me. Home,” she repeated.
He reached over and picked up his mobile phone from the console. “Right after I make the call to my dispatcher,” he said, opening his contact list and scrolling through numbers.
No, he couldn’t! She covered his phone with her hand. “Please!”
If he made that call to his boss, then his boss would call her uncle’s people. She wouldn’t be able to control how the problem was presented, or what the solution might be. She couldn’t have that.
Jacob closed his eyes for a moment. He didn’t seem to be enjoying this standoff between them, either.
She had to convince him to be her ally. God knew, she was tired of fighting all on her own. She needed someone to understand her and what she was going through. But she needed to proceed in a way that didn’t tell him too much about herself. She had to be careful what she shared.
“I have a hard time because...I really can’t trust anyone, Jacob. I’m not allowed to have confidants. New York is not my home. I have to watch myself...all the time.”
“Most of the people that I work with and protect feel the same way,” he said gently. “Isabel, I drove a guy last month... Let’s just say he’s from a nation hostile to this country. But he’s in town speaking to the United Nations, so my job was to protect him while he was visiting here. He doesn’t trust anyone he meets, but he trusts us.”
She chewed her lip. She wanted to believe him.
“You know why he trusts us?” Jacob asked. “Because we—people like me—we’re discreet. We don’t even tell agents from our other government bureaus if they ask. We can’t, and we don’t. Because if we did, we’d never be trusted by other protectees. I won’t betray you, Isabel. I won’t tell anyone what I heard or saw today. No matter who was to torture me, I would die with your secret.”
It was so tempting to trust him. Oh, how she wanted to believe!
He waited, looking at her.
“I need to call my uncle first.” She reached for her phone. “Then you may call your office.”
Jacob closed his eyes. A horn sounded behind them—the light had changed, and they’d both been too occupied to notice. Jacob roared the SUV forward and pulled into an open spot before the curb, right in front of a fire hydrant. He set the gear into Park.
“May I,” he started to ask, turning in his seat to face her, his voice shaking. “May I tell you what I think? About...him?” With an intense look, he leaned toward her. “My professional opinion of your ex-boyfriend?”
She was immensely curious about the intense feeling he had. The anger over what Alex had done.
It was so tempting. She dared to look into his eyes and nod.
“People don’t just fall in love out of the blue,” Jacob said. “They put themselves into situations. Over there, in Scotland, he put himself into a mind-set where he was open to another woman.”
She hadn’t thought of it that way.
Jacob gazed into her eyes. It was like the heat of the sun, warming and comforting to her. “It isn’t your fault, Isabel. It wasn’t your fault that he strayed.”
Jacob thought all that?
“But...that’s not how it will look to other people,” she said.
“Other people don’t know the truth.”
“Well...how does it look to you?”
“I see that you’re incredibly strong.” Jacob nodded to the university buildings beside them. “Look where you live, far from your home, in this big city, in a foreign country.”
“It’s not like I have a choice. Of course I have to be strong. I’m expected to be strong, and I am what I’m supposed to be. It’s what I need to do.”
He was silent, listening to her, so she continued explaining, sorting it out in her head as she talked. “I cannot fail here, Jacob. When we heard my uncle was getting ready to name a successor, I went to him and asked him to consider me. Even though I’ve worked in positions of responsibility throughout our different divisions, he replied that I wasn’t qualified because I didn’t have an advanced business degree or experience in international finance, like my cousin Malcolm.
“So I found the best, most prestigious program that I could, and I applied. They accepted me, and now I’m here, working as hard as I can with my end goal in mind. I have to be successful. If not, I’ll never be chosen to run my family’s company if I seem to fail in anything I do. And that includes managing my relationships. That’s the way he looks at it. Cold and clinical. But I don’t want to be that way, and—”
Wait a minute. She put her hand over her mouth. Was this even true?
And worse, why was she saying it aloud to him? She hadn’t meant to tell Jacob anything private about her or her family. If Uncle John found out, he would be quite displeased.
* * *
JACOB HADN’T WANTED to like her or feel sympathy for her. This was the opposite of what he’d intended. He hadn’t really wanted to get her talking and to understand her.
He knew her world was shattered. In his mind, she could never be a failure. Or cold, or clinical. But he could imagine how she felt now, after her breakup...unanchored, mortified, upset. He understood why she wanted to go home and lick her wounds, but he couldn’t let her. He needed to get her to go to Vermont with him. The only way he knew how to convince her was to continue to talk to her, which felt strange to him.
Secret Service agents were taught never to confide with their protectees. His training was working against him.
He rubbed his face with his hands, cold with sweat. He was so close to John Sage. Maybe if he’d had his backup team with him, including some female agents, it wouldn’t be so difficult. Jacob wasn’t used to working alone, especially with an attractive woman.
She was just so beautiful. That blond hair, those big blue eyes that brimmed with tears. So expressive, but only here with him. She hadn’t cried in front of the boyfriend, and Jacob took some satisfaction from that.
Jacob flexed his hands on the wheel. He had no template to work with in this situation, so he was winging it. So far, nothing had worked in getting her to really trust him, and he knew why, because he remembered this feeling. Slammed upside the head by a lover’s betrayal. Crushed in the heart, and in the most public of places.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, darting a glance at him nervously.
It had started to rain, so he’d turned on the wipers. They thump-thump-thumped against the window at regular intervals. He glanced in the mirror and saw his own expression. No poker face here. That’s what she was reacting to—what he felt about her situation, not what she felt.
He got the impression that she was usually more in tune with what other people thought of her than with what she thought. To some extent, she was a people pleaser.
Maybe Rachel had been that way, too.
He leaned back and closed his eyes. “I was in your shoes once,” he remarked. “I was just thinking about that.”
He felt a change in her energy. The leather seat made a squeaking noise as she sat up straighter. Her eyes were boring into him; he could sense that, too.
“You were dumped?” she asked in a low voice. Anticipating. Wanting to hear more about it.
He inhaled deeply. Danger zone. He’d never even discussed this with Eddie. Not really. “That’s not the point.”
“Oh-ho!” She sat up straighter. “So it’s okay for me to be crushed and for you to know every detail about it, but it’s not okay for you?”
“Hey, I’m just your driver.”
“Really? I don’t see you driving me home the last few blocks like I asked.”
He opened his eyes. “Is that what you want? To give up? A successful woman like you? You don’t think it will make it seem like you’re hiding because you failed?”
She winced, defeated, as if he’d just kicked her to the curb. Honestly—he didn’t know how to deal with her. She was actually pretty brave. From what he could see, she had big plans and was making a courageous, bold and disciplined journey to reach them, much like he was.
“Look,” he said, “your main concern is that I not pass on what just happened to your uncle, right? Because you don’t want him to think less of you for it. Am I close to the truth?”
“You’re avoiding my question,” she said softly.
“What question?”
“I want to know how you were dumped.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything. It’s a power issue, Jacob.”
“A...what?”
“If you know my deep dark secrets and I don’t know yours, then we’re not on equal footing. I never should have spoken so loudly inside that coffee shop.”
“So...you’re more concerned about being vulnerable than about losing the so-called love of your life? Interesting.”
Her lip quivered.
Damn. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” Cripes, he was handling this all wrong.
He laid his head back and looked at the skylight. Watched the rain come down. The truth was, he just couldn’t give anyone any more of himself. What was private with him, he kept locked away. He had to solve this standoff with Isabel some other way.
Abruptly, she opened the door and stepped out into the rain.
“Isabel?” he called. “Where are you going?”
“My luggage, please,” she said, leaning into the open door. “I’m going to phone for another driver. You and I obviously can’t work together any longer.”
He threw open his door and got out of the SUV, then jogged around the front until he was beside her on the wet sidewalk. The rain was cold on his head and face. “You want me to talk? You want to know how I’ve been in your shoes?”
She nodded, gazing into his eyes. “I do.”
They were both getting wet. Fat raindrops were spilling onto her cheeks. He wanted to brush them away.
“I...was supposed to get married,” he said. “Instead, on our wedding day...she arrived late and made this little speech to everyone as if she were doing me a favor to have shown up to the altar at all.”
“You were left at the altar?” she asked.
He focused on the raindrops running down her cheeks. One on her nose. Her top lip.
“Were people there?” she asked gently. Her tone was the musical Scottish voice he’d heard in the coffee shop. Her true accent. The voice she’d shown for Alex, and he hadn’t cared about it.
“Jacob?”
“All of my friends were sitting in the church. My colleagues from the NYPD, their wives and girlfriends. My mother. My stepfather. My half siblings. My stepgrandmother and stepaunts.”
She put her hand to her mouth. “How did you ever face them all afterward?”
He let out a breath, remembering. “For a long time, I didn’t. I focused on getting into the Secret Service. I worked long hours so I could stay away.”
Which probably wasn’t helping him much now, but he didn’t want to go into that.
“Bottom line, Isabel, don’t let the bastards get you down. Don’t give Alex the satisfaction of having the power to damage you. Because you’re not damaged. You’re strong and you’re independent and you’re doing the right thing with your life. Things don’t happen by accident—he put himself into that situation where he was open, just as Rach—just as my ex did. And then blamed it on fate. On me. On whomever. On everybody but her...”
He caught himself. Whoa. Where was this coming from?
But Isabel’s eyes were bright. And now her hand was on his arm. Just lightly. Not the way she’d hooked him back in her residence hall, but as though she were giving him comfort.
What was happening?
“I’m fine,” he said. It seemed he was saying that so much lately, what with the psychologist at work and the—
“When did she leave you?” Isabel asked.
Because she was sincere, quiet and respectful, he let out a breath and answered her. “Five years ago.”
“Have you been alone since then?”
Fix-ups didn’t count, not really. He nodded. “I have goals. You have your goals, well, so do I.”
She nodded, too, her eyes even brighter. “The thing that hurts most is that Alex knew what my goals were. We’d made an agreement. He was going to wait for me to come home.” She fell silent.
“How long were you and Alex together?”
“He...was the boy next door,” she said simply. “He knew me since...before everything. Before our family business took off, I mean. Before my father died...”
“It hit you out of left field, didn’t it?”
“If that means it flummoxed me, then yes—yes, it did.” She blinked rapidly.
“You don’t have to put on a brave face for me,” he said. “If you want to scream, go ahead.”
“I never scream.” She smiled brightly. “I don’t believe in drama.”
He did. Sometimes it was necessary.
“What did you do at that church with everyone looking at you?” she asked.
“Another story for another time.”
“Did you vomit all over the floor in public?” Her lips twitched. She was going to laugh, and that was a good sign.
He smiled, too, sort of. “Let’s just say that like you, I was in no good shape.”
“What did you do to get in good shape?”
What she really was asking was, how could she get in good shape?
For purposes of getting her on the road to Vermont, he told her a partial truth. “I stopped by a liquor store, got a whole bunch of empty boxes and then drove back to our—to my apartment, and packed up everything she had. Clothes, makeup, cooking stuff—whatever, and I left it out in the hall. Then I had the locks changed.”
Her eyes widened. “Did you ever hear from her again?”
In Jacob’s experience, when people left him, they really left him. He felt cold for a moment, but shook it off. “Nope.”
“She didn’t come back to you? Tell you she’d made a mistake?”
“No.” He looked at her. “Is that what you’re hoping for?”
“Me?” She shook her head fiercely. “I have very few real friends, Jacob. Few people I can trust.” She sighed. “You were right. He showed me his true colors.”
She folded into herself. But Jacob knew that her heart was broken.
Jacob’s heart had been broken, too. Worse than the embarrassment. Worse than the jealousy or the anger or the betrayal—it was the secret inner sadness, the empty pit of abandonment that nobody ever talked about. It was the stark reality at the end of the day, when you came back to your apartment and you were alone. Because the only people you’d trusted had taken your heart and tossed it away.
“Don’t feel sad for me,” Isabel said. “I’ve just decided I am going to this wedding. I’m going to show Malcolm that he still has a competitor for this job. He’s not the shoe-in that everybody thinks he is.”
She leaned over and kissed Jacob on the cheek. “Let’s get back in the car and drive to Vermont, please.” She smiled. “But I’m not sitting in the back. There’s no need for that anymore.”
As she turned and climbed inside, Jacob stood there in the rain, touching his cheek where she’d kissed him.