THE meeting with Terri Kaufman had taken less than an hour, but Serena didn’t return to the condo until after ten. She’d driven out to the desert afterward, where she’d watched the sun set and tried to figure out what she was going to do next.
She didn’t have a clue.
Unlike Terri, who’d been full of ideas for how to tone down Serena’s eclectic style while still keeping a young and fresh look. Sitting in her car, she leafed through a couple of the catalogs the woman had given her. Terri had helpfully circled the best choices: A-line skirts that skimmed the knee and structured jackets dominated her new fashion-do list. As far as Serena could see the color palate was the only nod to “young and fresh,” and even then there was a catch. The handful of bright hues and funky prints allowed in her wardrobe would be relegated to accent pieces such as handbags and scarves.
Terri had also suggested Serena dye her hair a less rich shade of auburn. It would photograph better, she claimed. And a headband might work to keep it back from her face on those occasions when she chose to wear it down, which Terri felt shouldn’t be often. When it was all said and done Serena would be a clone of Janet, minus the blonde hair and blue eyes.
Should she follow through on this? Could she? For that matter, could she see the bargain she’d made with Jonas through to the end, knowing what she knew now? With more questions than answers, she flipped closed the catalog and headed back to the city. Never had she felt more miserable and lost.
Jonas wasn’t in the living room when she got home, but the sliver of light coming from under his door told her he was still awake. It was cowardly, but she decided to slip into her bedroom undetected. She felt too raw to face him right now. But he opened his door just as she turned to close hers. He was wearing a pair of cotton drawstring pants and a plain white tee-shirt that pulled tight across the very chest she’d woken splayed over this morning. Had it really been mere hours since the future had seemed so full of possibilities?
“You’re back. I was getting a little worried.”
“Sorry.”
He leaned against the doorjamb. “So, how’d the appointment go?”
“Okay. We have another one in two days. That’s when the real work will begin, according to Terri. In the meantime, she gave me a lot of suggestions to consider.”
“You don’t have to take them, Serena.”
She lifted her shoulders with a negligence she didn’t feel. “It’s just clothes and accessories. Well, and hair, too. You’ll find this amusing. She wants me to dye it.”
Jonas wasn’t amused. He looked appalled as he pushed away from the jamb. “No! Serena—”
“Oh, don’t worry. Nothing crazy. Actually, she wants me to tone down the color right along with the rest of me.” She managed a laugh. “No surprise there, right?”
“Don’t dye your hair. Don’t change anything. I like you the way you are.”
“Why?” At his baffled expression she added, “God knows, I’m no Janet Kinkaid.”
“Janet? What the hell does she have to do with this?”
“I met her, Jonas. She came here the day we were having dinner with your parents.”
“You never mentioned it.”
“My bad.” She shrugged.
“Janet and I were over a long time ago.”
“Apparently she didn’t get that memo. She had a message for you.” Serena swallowed. “She said to tell you she’d be there once I was out of the picture.”
“I don’t want Janet. Nor do I want you out of the picture.”
Though a part of her busted-up heart thrilled upon hearing his words, Serena argued, “But she’s so perfect. She fits into your life and lifestyle so much better than I do. She’d be a real asset to you, politically and otherwise.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
“Yes, well, at least you wouldn’t have to manufacture a romantic interlude to try and score points with voters.”
Anger flashed on his face. “That’s not what I did.”
“You admitted that Jameson said you should focus on our romance around the media.”
“Jameson said that, yes. But it wasn’t my motive for taking you to the Piedmont last night, and it sure as hell wasn’t why I wanted to stay with you. Nor did I know we were being photographed while we were outside and that a story was going to run in today’s paper.”
She wanted to believe him, but she wasn’t sure what was real anymore, and she felt too vulnerable to put her heart on the line. She’d been playing a role for weeks, putting on a good show for voters and the media. She slipped into that role now for Jonas.
“I think we should go back to just being roommates and concentrate on your election.”
“And when the election is over?”
She took a deep breath. “We’ll get an annulment, just as we planned.”
“Is that really what you want?”
Serena steeled her heart against his wounded expression. It was better this way, she told herself. Better for both of them. “I’m not good at the long term, Jonas. Things between us will end eventually anyway.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“Aren’t you? We’re too different. You dated Janet for five years before you claim you figured out she was wrong for you. We’ve barely known one another for five weeks. I’m just trying to save us both the hassle.”
“The heartache, you mean.”
She pressed her lips together and said nothing as she backed into her room and closed the door.
Jonas lay awake the better part of the night. Serena was wrong about them—wrong about herself. He’d thought her fearless. It turned out she was scared and more vulnerable than he’d ever imagined. He was scared, too. And no wonder. Love…commitment. Despite the fact they were married, this was uncharted territory for both of them. Jonas was certain of one thing, though, and he became more certain of it with each passing hour: he didn’t want Serena for a roommate. He wasn’t looking for someone to share his home for the interim. He wanted someone to share his life forever. And that someone was Serena.
Now he had to convince her of that, and he had far less time to do it than he’d thought originally. No more layering. No more foundation-building. She was the sort of woman who would require more than a declaration of love. What he needed was an over-the-top gesture to convince her. He just had to figure out what that was.
Serena did her best to avoid Jonas in the days that followed. It was relatively easy since she made herself scarce whenever he was home. She had a second appointment with Terri Kaufman. Clothes were bought. Fittings ensued. Alterations were made. Serena drew the line at having her hair colored. Dammit, she liked her natural red. But she acquiesced when it came to its style. She learned how to blow it out straight and create a sleek French twist. She also now owned half a dozen headbands. She still wasn’t sure she could bring herself to wear them out in public, or any of the outfits they went with, for that matter.
More enjoyable by far was her meeting with Jeffrey Kefron. She felt utterly free to express her true self while in his kitchen. When he asked her to sketch out a design for a specialty cake, she allowed her imagination free rein and was rewarded with his praise.
“But the real test will be in the execution,” Jeffrey reminded her as they made plans to meet again. “Following through on what your vision is is the hard part.”
His words could apply to another aspect of her life, she thought as she got into her car. Instead of driving home she headed to McKendrick’s, in need of a sounding board. Despite the late hour, Alex was in her office. When Serena arrived they called Jayne and Molly, and Serena confided the events of the past week. She left nothing out. The time for spin—political or otherwise—was past.
“We’re basically co-existing right now,” she admitted on a watery sigh. “God, we might as well be my parents.”
“You’re nothing like your parents,” Jayne assured her. “You’re not actively seeking to make one another miserable.”
Serena snorted. “Maybe not, but we’re doing a damned good job of it.”
“It sounds to me like the two of you are in love,” Alex said.
“That’s only because you’re about to be married and have love on the brain.”
“No. You’re in love.” This from Molly. “You fell for him the first night you met. Sometimes and for some people it happens that fast. It’s time to own up, Serena.”
“I…” She raised her shoulders in a shrug that only Alex could see. After a moment she said quietly, “He’s never said he loves me.”
“How many times have you said it?” Jayne wanted to know.
“I…haven’t.”
“What are you waiting for?” Alex asked.
“I don’t know. A sign, I guess. Proof positive that I’m not setting myself up for disaster.”
“That’s not the way love works,” Alex said softly.
“You have to put yourself out there,” Molly added.
Jayne’s response was born of painful experience. “You have to be willing to risk everything.”
Serena’s eyes filled. “I feel like I already have.”
Alex reached over to squeeze her hand. “Sorry, honey. But if you haven’t told Jonas your true feelings you haven’t come close.”
The new furniture Serena had ordered for the condo arrived. She spent half a day arranging it, hanging the curtains and setting out the accessories she’d bought during happier times. How ironic, she thought, eyeing her handiwork when she finished. The apartment now reflected her personality far more than her new wardrobe did.
Saturday arrived. The weekends were hard, since both of them were home during the day. This one was especially nerve-racking. She and Jonas were to be the guests of honor at a Concerned Pastors of Las Vegas luncheon. Campaign donations were on the line, or so Serena had overheard Jameson tell Jonas. And she would be test-driving her new look.
She spent half an hour blowing out her hair and straightening it with a flat iron. The sleek style looked pretty good on her until she topped it off with an ivory grosgrain headband. She pulled a face at her reflection in the mirror before going to dress. The ivory sheath with navy piping was classic and demure. It had a square neckline and cap sleeves. She’d fit in at the country club now for sure.
“God, what am I doing?” she asked her reflection.
She sank onto the side of the bed. She couldn’t twist herself into a Stepford Wife—not even for Jonas. Especially since he didn’t appear to want her to in the first place. She’d hoped to hide behind the clothes, she realized. Play a role and pretend none of this mattered to her. But it did.
“Serena, we’ve got to go,” Jonas called from the hall. “We’re already running late.”
Even so, it took her several more minutes to regain her composure. Then, pulling off the headband, she headed for the living room. Jonas turned when she entered. He had on a suit and tie. Interestingly, both the suit’s cut and the tie’s print were more edgy than he usually wore. But it was her transformation that took center stage. His mouth went slack.
“I…I can’t do this.”
He exhaled in relief. “Thank God! No offense. You look lovely. But I like you better as, well, you.”
The compliment was like balm on blistered skin. Serena swallowed. Tell him you love him. Risk it all. Her friends had said. She hadn’t realized she was such a coward until the declaration caught in her throat. The words that made it out were, “That’s not what I mean. I can’t do this anymore. I want to exercise the easy get-out clause we agreed to.”
He stepped toward her, arms outstretched. “Serena, please—”
She backed away. “You…you can tell people I had to return to San Diego to take care of an ailing relative. Jameson can spin it, I’m sure.”
“Let’s talk about this. I have things I want to say—things I need to tell you.”
“Okay, but later.” She attempted a smile. “You have a luncheon to attend. You don’t want to be late.”
“You’re not going with me?”
“No. I can’t go dressed like this, and dressed like myself I won’t do you any good.” Though it pained her to say it, she added, “You’ll be fine without me.”
He debated his options before sighing. “Promise you’ll be here when I get back?”
Serena nodded. “I’ll be here.”
She would be there, but by the time Jonas returned she planned to have packed her suitcases and booked a flight to San Diego. The only thing that would be left to say would be goodbye.
The last place Jonas wanted to be at that moment was a fund-raising luncheon where he was expected to smile and work the crowd. Unfortunately he had little choice, but as soon as possible he would make his excuses and head for the exit—consequences be damned.
“Where’s Serena?” Jameson asked, glancing around. “I’m eager to see Terri Kaufman’s work in the flesh.”
“She won’t be here.”
“Is she sick?”
“More like fed up,” Jonas muttered. And he didn’t blame her.
Jameson let the comment pass. “Maybe that’s just as well. I wanted to warn you that Colleen Daring, the host of that cable program Vegas 24/7, is here. The media weren’t supposed to be invited, but apparently she’s close friends with the wife of Reverend Saunders. She brought a cameraman, and when I spoke to her earlier her smile could have drawn blood. She’s eager to make a name for herself. Steer clear of her if you can.”
Jonas managed to do so until just prior to lunch. Colleen ambushed him as he stood outside the banquet room trying to reach Serena on his cell. No one was picking up at the condo. When he turned, the keen-eyed reporter was hot-footing it toward him. She had a microphone in one hand and was motioning for her cameraman to catch up with her.
“Mr. Benjamin, a moment of your time, please?”
“Sorry. I’m not here to give interviews. I’m just a guest of the Concerned Pastors today.”
“And no doubt eager for its membership’s donations.”
He ignored the comment. “I have to get back inside. If you want to schedule an interview, you’ll have to contact my staff.”
“Five minutes. That’s all I need.”
He smiled politely, but started toward the door.
“I understand from a reliable source that you met your wife in a hotel lounge on the Strip and wed her the very same night,” she called after him.
Jonas swiveled back. Briefly he considered offering Jameson’s fabricated tale of how he and Serena were lovers reunited. Instead he nodded. “That’s right.”
The bald admission took her by surprise. “You knew a woman for mere hours and you married her?”
“You’ve seen my wife, Ms. Daring. Can you blame me?”
The reporter’s smile turned cunning. “Are you trying to tell me that the man who would be Las Vegas’s next mayor fell victim to its oldest cliché?”
“You think love is a cliché?”
“Not at all.” But then she shot back, “Are you saying it was love at first sight?”
“I am.” Jonas shook his head in dismay. “But, like you, I doubted it. That kind of thing doesn’t happen, right? Not to people as shrewd or pragmatic as we are.”
The reporter nodded, but a line formed between her brows as she waited for him to go on.
“Do you know what’s really funny, though? And by funny I don’t mean humorous. More like painfully ironic. By the time I figured out that my first instinct was right, I’d blown it.”
“What do you mean?”
“My wife is leaving me, Ms. Daring. She wants to go back to San Diego, and for good reason. When I asked Serena to come back to Vegas after our wedding I didn’t offer her a real marriage. I was more interested in saving my political hide. Or at least that’s what I’d convinced myself. I couldn’t admit I loved her. I couldn’t admit it to her or even to myself. Now that I can, it may be too late.”
Colleen lowered the microphone. “This isn’t all for show, is it? You really mean it.”
“I mean it.” Jonas sighed. “There—you have your story, and it’s an exclusive. Be kind in the editing.”
He started to walk away, but she called him back. “It’s an exclusive, all right, but I don’t get the feeling it’s completely accurate.”
“It’s the truth, I assure you. Every word.”
“A good reporter relies on more than one source.” Her smile was calculating. “Are you interested in trying to save your marriage?”
“What do you have in mind?”