He knew it was none of his business. He owed Jessi next to nothing, and she was entitled to her grief. In fact, he understood completely how she felt, but a part of him wanted to needle her. Wanted to jar her and force her out of her funk so she could irritate him and he’d be able to forget. The last thing he wanted to do was spend a cross-country flight with his own thoughts.
Not right now when he was wondering why a confirmed bachelor was still alive and a family man with everything to live for was dead. God knew that Allan wasn’t religious, and something like this just reinforced his belief that there definitely wasn’t a higher force in the world. There was no fairness to John dying when he had so much to live for.
Allan looked around the cabin. He’d bought the G6 jet when Playtone had signed their first multibillion-dollar contract, and he didn’t regret it. If there was one thing he prized in this life it was his own comfort. The cream-colored leather chairs had more than enough room for him to stretch out his six-foot, five-inch frame. He did so now, deliberately knocking over Jessi’s expensive-looking leather bag in the process.
She glanced at him with one eyebrow arched and picked up the bag without removing her earbuds. She leaned her head back against the seat and a lock of her short ebony hair slid down over her eye. He had touched her hair once. It was cool and soft. He’d tangled his hand in it as he’d kissed her at John and Patti’s wedding, behind the balustrade, out of the way of prying eyes.
Like everything between the two of them, he’d meant the kiss to be a game of one-upmanship, to shock her, but it hadn’t worked. It had rocked him to his foundations, because there’d been a spark of something more in that one kiss. How was it that his archnemesis could turn him on like no other woman could?
He nudged her bag and she took her earbuds off as she turned to him and stared. Her gaze was glacial, as if he wasn’t worth her attention.
“What’s your problem?” she asked.
“Can’t get comfortable,” he said.
She glanced around at the six other empty seats before turning her chocolate-brown eyes back at him. “Really? Looks like you could stretch out and not bother me if you wanted to. So I ask again, what’s your problem?”
“Maybe I want to bother you.”
“Of course you do. What’s the matter, Allan, finally found the one thing your money can’t buy?” she asked.
“And what would that be?” he retorted. In his experience there wasn’t much money couldn’t afford him. Granted, it wasn’t going to bring John back, but there was nothing that could stop death. And hadn’t he learned that at an early age, anyway, when his mother had been the victim of a botched surgery?
“Peace of mind,” Jessi said, swiveling her chair to face him and leaning forward so that the material of her blouse gaped and afforded him a glimpse of her cleavage.
She said something else, but all he could concentrate on was her body. Though she dressed in that funky style of hers she always looked well put together and feminine. And he couldn’t help but recall the way she’d felt in his arms at John and Patti’s wedding.
Dammit, man, enough. She’s the enemy and it’s just grief making her seem irresistible.
“I’ll grant you that. Though I do find that my peace of mind is enhanced by the things I buy,” he said.
“Me, too,” she admitted.
“What do you want to buy right now?” he asked. He had already decided to order himself a Harley-Davidson, which he and John had been talking about buying when they turned thirty-five. Now that John was gone, Allan wasn’t going to wait any longer. Life was too short.
“Nothing,” she said. “I usually splurge on travel, and Patti was my...” She turned her chair to face forward.
“Not talking about her isn’t going to make your grief any easier,” he said softly.
She shrugged. “You’re right. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be able to think about this rationally, but tonight...I can’t.”
“Why?”
She turned to give him one of her you’re-an-idiot-glares. “Seriously?”
“I don’t want to sit in silence for the next few hours. I keep thinking about John and Patti and how the last time I saw them both...”
“Me, too,” Jessi said. “I can’t stop. I remember how you and I were fighting, and Patti asked me to try to get along.”
She stopped talking and turned away again to wipe a tear from her eye.
“John said the same thing to me. He even went so far as to mention that you weren’t too bad,” Allan said.
She shook her head. “I liked him. He was good for Patti and he loved her, you know?”
“He certainly seemed to.” John had spent a lot of time talking about Patti, and Allan believed his friend loved her. But Allan had never experienced any emotions like that so it was a little hard to believe love existed.
“Seemed to? Don’t you believe he loved her?” Jessi asked.
“I think he thought he did. But I’m not sure that love is real. I think it’s something we all come up with to assure ourselves we’re not alone.”
She turned in her seat and arched both eyebrows as she leaned forward. “Even you can’t be that cynical.”
He shrugged. He didn’t get the love thing between a man and a woman. He’d seen people do a lot of things out of “love” and not one of them had been altruistic or all that great. And his own experiences with the emotion had been haphazard at best.
Especially since he’d become a very wealthy man. Women seemed to fall for him instantly, and as Jessi would be the first to point out, he wasn’t that charming. It made it very hard for him to trust them. But to be honest he’d always had trust issues. How could you believe in love when so many people did things for love that weren’t all that nice?
“But you’re always dating,” she said. “Why do that if you don’t believe in love and finding the one to spend the rest of your life with?”
“Sex,” he said bluntly.
“How clichéd,” she replied. “And typically male.”
“Like your attitude isn’t typically female? It’s true I like women for sex. And companionship. I enjoy having them around, but love? That’s never entered into the picture,” he said.
“Maybe because you’d have to put someone else first,” she suggested.
“I’m capable of doing that,” he said, thinking of his friendship with John, but also his relationship with his cousins. He would go to them in the middle of the night if they called. Hence this cross-country red-eye to settle John’s affairs. “What about you? You don’t really strike me as a romantic.”
“I’m not,” she said. “But I do believe in love. I’ve got the heartbreak to prove that falling in love is real.”
“Who broke your heart?” he asked. It was the first time in the five years he’d known her that she’d admitted to anything this personal. And he found himself unable to look away. Unable to stop the tide of emotions running through him as he stared at her. Who had hurt her and why did it suddenly matter to him?
“Some dick,” she said.
He almost smiled because she sounded more angry than brokenhearted. “Tell me more.”
“That’s none of your business, Allan. Just trust me. If you ever let yourself be real instead of throwing around money and buying yourself trophy girlfriends,