“No,” he said, quietly this time, and headed for the door.
“Jamie?” he called.
He stepped into the hallway and listened. When he’d come back from his run, she’d been in her room. Was she asleep or out on the porch? Silence surrounded him. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep or even what time it was. Somewhere around midnight.
He knocked on her bedroom door, but there was no answer. He pushed it open and flipped on the light.
It was as if she’d never been there. The bed had been tidied, and the dresser was bare. Her luggage was gone. Even the scent of her had disappeared.
He knew the truth instantly, but still he searched the house, hoping he was wrong. Naked, he stepped out onto the porch. The Bronco was gone.
She’d left him, just as he’d asked.
Chapter 16
Jamie cradled the cup of coffee in her hands. When she sipped the steaming liquid, it felt warm, but when she held the mug, her fingers couldn’t absorb the heat. She knew what the problem was-she was turning to ice on the inside. All the hot drinks, warm showers and thick blankets in the world couldn’t solve that problem.
She drew her knees up to her chest and leaned back in the wooden deck chair. She sat on the balcony of her San Francisco apartment. From here she could see across the bay. It was a postcard kind of morning. White, puffy clouds, people out on sailboats, warm air perfumed with sweet-smelling flowers. The kind of days families spent together, or lovers savored as they stole time to be in each other’s company and make love.
Jamie sniffed a couple of times but refused to acknowledge the burning in her eyes. She was finished with crying. She’d done nothing else for the past week. Seven whole days of feeling sorry for herself. Seven days of tears, of second-guessing, of trying not to go back to the cabin and beg one more time.
The only thing that had kept her from hopping on a plane was the thought that Zach was already gone. By now he would be involved in his next assignment. While she didn’t think he would forget her, she doubted he would allow himself to think of her often. He might miss her, but he wouldn’t mourn her as she mourned him.
She still couldn’t sleep at night, so she used the time to relive the weeks at the cabin. She replayed entire conversations, wondering what she could have done differently to change the outcome of the last time she’d seen Zach. There were no miracle answers, no moments of insight or revelation.
She’d left him again. She’d sworn to love him forever and she’d left him for the second and last time. It had been the right thing to do. She knew that. It had also been the hardest thing she’d ever done. Leaving him had been like cutting off an arm or a leg. He was a part of her very being. How long would it take the wound to stop bleeding?
She’d expected to feel pain. What she hadn’t expected was the sensation of her emotional self draining away. And the questions. Had she left too soon? Should she have tried harder?
Jamie rose to her feet and shook her head. She’d run out of words and arguments. The bottom line was she couldn’t make him love her and she wouldn’t be with him if he refused to admit he cared. If he’d given her a hint it might all work out, she would have held on forever. In the face of his stubborn rejection, she’d had no choice but to go.
It was probably the kindest act. In the end, her love would have destroyed him. He wasn’t ready to face his past and let the ghosts go. He had to do that in his own time. Until then, she would survive without him. Eventually she would figure out how to have a good life without the agency and without Zach. If he changed his mind, she wouldn’t be hard to find. Not that she expected him to show up on her doorstep. The coldness in her heart told her he might never show up at all.
That meant she had to get on with her life, which sounded simple enough. If only she had a clue what she wanted to do. Not many of her skills were going to translate to the private sector. Not many companies needed employees well versed in the art of killing.
She walked into the living room. A cream-colored sofa sat in front of a bleached-pine coffee table. There was a gold-tone floor lamp in the corner and a stereo system sitting on the floor. She’d never used the fireplace. The walls were bare. She wanted to compare it to a hotel room, but hotels put a lot more thought into their decorating.
The bedroom was just as bad. A bed had been pushed up against one wall. That was it. No pictures, no furniture. In the closet, built-in drawers held her small collection of cotton underwear. Her clothing consisted of jeans, shirts and one black lacy dress.
“Pretty pathetic,” she muttered, slipping off her robe and reaching for a pair of jeans.
She’d spent the past week immobilized by pain. She wasn’t going to do that anymore. She had to get on with her life. The task seemed daunting, but that was because she was looking at it all at once. She would do better to break it into smaller, more manageable sections. At least there was plenty of money in her account. The agency had paid well, and she hadn’t been around to spend much. She could go back to college or travel. She didn’t have to find a job anytime soon.
But she did have to start living.
She pulled a sweatshirt over her head, then brushed her hair. After weaving it into a braid, she collected her keys and her credit cards, then headed out.
Jamie hovered outside the boutique. The fancy lettering on the window scared her. She knew she didn’t look like any of the well-dressed customers that had gone in while she’d been lurking on the sidewalk. Yet the store had everything she’d wanted. Over the past week, in between crying jags, she’d called around to find a place that would fill her needs. Now all she needed was the courage to step inside.
She reminded herself that less than two months ago, she’d walked into an armed enemy camp and carried out a wounded prisoner. Compared to that, what was a little shopping?
Inside, the air was comfortable and lightly scented with roses. Jamie glanced at all the racks, trying to figure out what she needed first. The boutique had a wide selection of clothing, undergarments and accessories, including shoes. In theory, she could get everything she needed with one stop. That was her goal. Later, when she had more experience, she would venture out to a mall.
“May I be of assistance?”
She turned toward the voice and saw a small gray-haired woman standing in front of her. The woman couldn’t be much over five feet tall, with a tiny waist and miniature feet. Jamie felt as petite and graceful as a giraffe. The urge to bolt was strong.
She sucked in a breath. Only the truth would work in this situation. “I need help. Bad. I’ve only ever worn jeans. I want to dress better, but I don’t know what styles look good on me. I’m hopeless with accessories and makeup. I haven’t done anything but trim my bangs and occasionally hack off a couple of inches of length on my hair.”
The gray-haired woman smiled. “What’s your name?”
“Jamie.”
“Jamie, I’m Sandra and I’m going to change your life.”
Four hours later, Jamie found out Sandra wasn’t kidding. They started with casual clothes. Although Jamie liked the frilly blouses and fuller pants and skirts, they looked horrible on her. Fitted or tailored was better. Pants with tucked-in shirts, coordinated belts and flats emphasized her athletic build. For fun there were shorts, denim skirts and one scrap of black leather that barely covered her thighs. She tried on a couple of suits she just had to have, then they moved to dressier clothing.
Shortly after two, Sandra sent out for sandwiches. When they’d eaten, Jamie stripped and began trying on lingerie. Soon she had a wardrobe of lacy bras with matching panties.
Earrings had never been part of her style. She couldn’t wear them on the job, and she’d never bothered in her off-duty hours. But she allowed a young man to pierce her earlobes, then chose a collection of pretty earrings to wear when she could take out the diamond studs she now wore.