One Night with a Star (Second Chances Book 2) by Merry Farmer Page A
Authors: Merry Farmer
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China or someplace when a reminder popped up on her computer screen. “4:00. Meeting with SM at SDP.” Crap. She’d told Simon she would meet with him fifteen minutes from now to narrow down his list of potential homes. Well, she wasn’t going to take this whole thing lying down.
She stood, grabbing her purse and keys, determined to do her job and only her job.
“I’ve got a client meeting at four,” she told Laurel as she headed out the door. “I won’t be back in the office today.”
“Is it a meeting with Simon Mercer?” Laurel perked up.
Jenny didn’t answer her. She marched outside to her car. Neil had gone, thank God. She got in her car and turned on the engine. Her car was clean, for a change, but she would not admit that she’d cleaned it because she was going to have to drive Simon around. She would not admit that she’d do anything special for him.
By the time she drove through Summerbury and along Beach Avenue to make the turn into Sand Dollar Point, she had worked herself into a fit rather than calming down. No one was going to take advantage of her or Daniel again. Not even if they were a gorgeous celebrity. She parked and headed up to the porch, knocking on the door, then letting herself in.
“Jenny,” Simon greeted her from the living room. He lounged on the sofa, bare feet propped up on the coffee table, laptop open in his lap. “Right on time. I’ve just been going through the listings you sent me. There’s a lot of nice houses—” He stopped when she stormed into the living room. “What’s wrong?”
“You,” she snapped before she could stop herself. “You’re what’s wrong. Men are what’s wrong.”
Simon looked up at her from the sofa with playfully large eyes. “Uh oh.”
“Don’t you go being in a good mood when I am genuinely upset,” Jenny fired back at him.
He cleared his throat and sat straighter, fighting to swallow his smile. “Why are you upset?”
Damn him, the last thing she needed him to be right now was genuine. Black and white. That was the way things needed to be. Not all this confusing mess of justification and excuses.
“I’m here to help you buy a house,” she said. “That’s it. I’m not going to tell you my problems or listen to yours. This is a business relationship.”
“Okay,” Simon answered slowly. He stood, taking his open laptop with him. “Why don’t we go sit at the table on the porch and look at houses.”
No. No, that wasn’t right either. He was supposed to shout at her, accuse her of things the way Neil had. They were supposed to have a fight now so that she could scream and vent and carry on and get it all out. He was not supposed to be the better man. He’d walked out on her, then been absent when she needed him most.
“I can’t do this,” she wailed, breaking down. God, it was awful of her. Right there, in the middle of the living room, just breaking down like a pointless sissy. She covered her face with her hands and sank to the couch as her tears flowed.
Simon sat beside her, putting his laptop on the coffee table. “It’s just a house.” He spoke softly, his accent making his words even more comforting, like a soothing BBC presenter.
“No it’s not.” She grabbed hold of her frustration and jerked to face him. If she was going down, she would go down with her head held high. “You have no idea what happened to me when you walked out.”
His expression shifted and tensed, as if he suddenly understood what they were talking about. “I’m sorry,” he said, laying a hand on her arm.
“No, I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to go back and fix things. I want you to give me my pride back and my self-respect.” It sounded so pathetic saying it out loud that she groaned with the foolishness of it all.
“If I could, I would,” Simon said. He paused. “What happened to get you all worked up about this again?”
“Everything,” she burst. “People gossiping about seeing us at the mall
She stood, grabbing her purse and keys, determined to do her job and only her job.
“I’ve got a client meeting at four,” she told Laurel as she headed out the door. “I won’t be back in the office today.”
“Is it a meeting with Simon Mercer?” Laurel perked up.
Jenny didn’t answer her. She marched outside to her car. Neil had gone, thank God. She got in her car and turned on the engine. Her car was clean, for a change, but she would not admit that she’d cleaned it because she was going to have to drive Simon around. She would not admit that she’d do anything special for him.
By the time she drove through Summerbury and along Beach Avenue to make the turn into Sand Dollar Point, she had worked herself into a fit rather than calming down. No one was going to take advantage of her or Daniel again. Not even if they were a gorgeous celebrity. She parked and headed up to the porch, knocking on the door, then letting herself in.
“Jenny,” Simon greeted her from the living room. He lounged on the sofa, bare feet propped up on the coffee table, laptop open in his lap. “Right on time. I’ve just been going through the listings you sent me. There’s a lot of nice houses—” He stopped when she stormed into the living room. “What’s wrong?”
“You,” she snapped before she could stop herself. “You’re what’s wrong. Men are what’s wrong.”
Simon looked up at her from the sofa with playfully large eyes. “Uh oh.”
“Don’t you go being in a good mood when I am genuinely upset,” Jenny fired back at him.
He cleared his throat and sat straighter, fighting to swallow his smile. “Why are you upset?”
Damn him, the last thing she needed him to be right now was genuine. Black and white. That was the way things needed to be. Not all this confusing mess of justification and excuses.
“I’m here to help you buy a house,” she said. “That’s it. I’m not going to tell you my problems or listen to yours. This is a business relationship.”
“Okay,” Simon answered slowly. He stood, taking his open laptop with him. “Why don’t we go sit at the table on the porch and look at houses.”
No. No, that wasn’t right either. He was supposed to shout at her, accuse her of things the way Neil had. They were supposed to have a fight now so that she could scream and vent and carry on and get it all out. He was not supposed to be the better man. He’d walked out on her, then been absent when she needed him most.
“I can’t do this,” she wailed, breaking down. God, it was awful of her. Right there, in the middle of the living room, just breaking down like a pointless sissy. She covered her face with her hands and sank to the couch as her tears flowed.
Simon sat beside her, putting his laptop on the coffee table. “It’s just a house.” He spoke softly, his accent making his words even more comforting, like a soothing BBC presenter.
“No it’s not.” She grabbed hold of her frustration and jerked to face him. If she was going down, she would go down with her head held high. “You have no idea what happened to me when you walked out.”
His expression shifted and tensed, as if he suddenly understood what they were talking about. “I’m sorry,” he said, laying a hand on her arm.
“No, I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to go back and fix things. I want you to give me my pride back and my self-respect.” It sounded so pathetic saying it out loud that she groaned with the foolishness of it all.
“If I could, I would,” Simon said. He paused. “What happened to get you all worked up about this again?”
“Everything,” she burst. “People gossiping about seeing us at the mall
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