“I need to talk to Jessie. Please, Monica.”

“Next you’ll be telling me you’re not a millionaire, or is it billionaire?”

The need to apologize for having money held a bit of irony. “I had my reasons. Reasons I need to tell Jessie, not you. Where is she, Monica?”

The cool afternoon wind blew in his face. Jack turned to-ward it.

“I don’t know.”

“I can’t make this right if I don’t talk to Jessie. I can make this right.” Please, dammit, give me an address.

“The woman in the picture is Katie?”

He was getting somewhere…he knew it. “I swear on my life. She’s right here, she’ll tell you.”

“If you’re lying to me—”

“I’m not.”

After a long pause, Monica said, “She’s at my mom’s.”

“I need an address.”

“I swear if you’re bullshitting me, Jack Morrison, I’ll kick your cowboy ass all the way back to Texas.”

“Address, Monica. Please.”

“Oh, OK, fine. I’m only telling you this because Jessie’s so damn miserable and your sister was sincere when we talked.” She rattled off the address while Jack flew into the suite to write it down.

“Thank you.” Jack studied the address and committed it to memory.

“Thank me by making my sister happy,” she scolded.

“That’s my intention.”

Jack hung up the phone and noticed his dad and sister staring at him.

“Well?” Gaylord asked.

Across the room was a huge clock hanging on the wall. “I found her.” With any luck, he would be able to bring Jessie and Danny back before dinner.

He hoped.

Chapter Seventeen

Jessie’s mom had taken Danny for some last-minute Christmas madness known as shopping. At first, Jessie liked the idea of a little solitude so she could think about what she was going to say to Jack when the man showed back up in her life. He would, she knew he would. According to her boss, he’d called her work asking about her schedule. Not to mention the messages he’d left on her cell phone, all of which Jessie had deleted without listening to. Now that the house was empty and there wasn’t a single thing to occupy her mind other than Jack, Jessie regretted not leaving with her son and mother.

Gravel kicked up by the wheels of a car sounded outside before Jessie recognized the squeal of brakes. She tossed the magazine in her hands aside and opened the curtains.

Her heart gave a hard kick in her chest when she recognized Jack’s truck in the drive.

He sat in the driver’s seat with both hands on the steering wheel, staring at her car parked in front of his. Jack moved and Jessie shot back, letting the drapes fall into place.

“Oh God.” Now what?

Heavy boots climbed the few steps to her mother’s porch, and finally Jack knocked on the door.

For a fleeting moment, she thought she could hold still and he would walk away.

“I know you’re in there, Jessie. I saw you in the window.”

So much for that plan.

“I’m not leaving until you let me explain,” he pleaded from the other side of the door.

Jessie moved to the opposite side of the room and sat in a chair. She closed her eyes and gripped the edge of the chair. She’d just as soon get this over with so the healing could begin. As sure as Christmas would come, Jack wouldn’t leave until he spoke with her…if only to make himself feel better. “The door’s open,” she finally said.

The knob on the door made a loud click as Jack twisted it. He breached the door quickly and then hesitated before opening it up enough to see her.

His haggard clothing and the growth of stubble on his chin were evidence that he might have had a sleepless night or two. Good, she thought. He didn’t deserve to sleep after the pain he’d caused her.

Shutting the door slowly, Jack took his time to walk into the room. His eyes drifted around the small mobile home before coming to rest on her. What did he see? Jessie looked around the space and saw memories of her childhood. Some pleasant, others well worth forgetting. For better or for worse, this was home. This was the place she ran to when faced with difficult decisions.

Jack was better and worse and a difficult decision all wrapped up in one package. The dress shirt and slacks she’d seen him in at the hotel were replaced with jeans and a flannel shirt. She couldn’t help but wonder if he wore his “Jack Moore” clothes in an effort to look the part. What did he prefer? Business attire or Levi’s?

Jessie shook her head, dispelling the questions as fast as she could.

I don’t care what you wear. Say your piece and leave so I can get on with my life.

Sounded simple, but she knew getting over Jack was going to take more than words.

“Can I sit down?” he asked, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“Sit. But don’t bother getting comfortable. You’re not staying.”

A streak of fear slashed over his face.

Jack perched himself on the edge of the sofa and leaned forward on his knees. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“You’ve had two days to come up with more lies, Jack. What’s the matter? Losing your touch?” The harsh words helped stiffen her spine.

“I didn’t want to lie to you.” As the words left his mouth, Jack sucked in a breath.

“I didn’t see anyone with a gun to your head.”