Barbara Dunlop - Next To Nothing!

“I told him it was over when I left,” said Jenna, reaching for the pencil in her clipboard, releasing it from the spring and tapping the eraser against the top page. She really had no desire to speak to Brandon again.

“You were upset then, hurt, confused. He probably thought you’d calm down and come to your senses.”

“I did come to my senses. That’s why I left him.”

“Apparently Brandon needs a bit more convincing.”

Jenna palmed the pencil and stood up. “You know, the minute I call him, he’s going to try to talk me into coming back.”

Candice folded her manicured fingers together on her knee, tipping her chin in Jenna’s direction. “Would you?” she asked calmly.

“No! Definitely not.” Not a chance in a million. Jenna absolutely did not want to live the rest of her life in a gilded cage, letting Brandon choose her clothes, her jewelry, her hair color. She’d had a taste of freedom, and she loved it.

“Well, as long as you keep hiding from him—”

“I am not hiding. You’re the one who—”

“He’ll convince himself you still have feelings for him,” Candice finished.

“There are no feelings. Period.” As she spoke the words, Jenna realized just how true they were. There was nothing. No hatred, no anger, no fear.

Flat line.

She hadn’t been intimidated by him, maybe overawed. Brandon had been a strong-minded, confident, charismatic guest lecturer at Boston University. While Jenna had been an impressionable undergraduate, fresh from a Minnesota farm community. It was pretty easy for him to convince her that he knew best—in all things.

But those feelings were gone now. Jenna took a deep breath, inhaling the light fountain mist and the scent of the pepper trees. She was free.

Sure she’d call Brandon. There was no reason not to anymore.

“Think about it, Jenna.” Candice interrupted her thoughts. “Call him and let him know that malleable young woman doesn’t exist anymore. Then he’ll back off and call off his troops.”

“You’re right,” said Jenna with conviction. Candice always did give the best advice.

“I am?” Candice looked surprised by Jenna’s easy agreement.

“You bet. He needs to know it’s over. He needs to leave me alone. We can’t have rent-a-Dick-Tracy hanging around the hospital halls scaring the children.”

Candice grinned as she stood up and flipped a concealed switch to turn off the waterfall. “Go get ’im, Jenna.” The whirring motor stopped, and the water dripped to a halt against the huge lava rocks, plunking to silence in the cavernous room.

Jenna nodded decisively, retrieving her tiny cell phone from the depths of her big purse. It was a serious purse, not one of those elegant little evening bags that Brandon bought her. They barely held a comb.

Using the end of the pencil, she dialed quickly.

Hopefully, someday soon, she’d forget his private number and free up the brain space for something useful. She lifted the phone to her ear, and Candice gave her an encouraging grin.

Brandon picked up on the first ring.

Little wonder. The only people who knew this number were his mother, a few captains of industry, some dubious politicians and Jenna.

“Rice here,” he said in that unnaturally low tone that he thought made him sound three inches taller.

“It’s Jenna,” she said, voice crisp and impersonal.

“Jenna!” His voice brightened and rose an octave.

“Finally. Where are you sweetheart?” He sounded so happy, so satisfied, so smug.

“You know darn well where I am. Your hired goon is standing outside my job-site.”

Candice gave her a thumbs-up.

“Goon? What goon? You’re talking nonsense.” His low voice was back. He was displeased. Good.

He was on the other side of the country. He could be as displeased as he wanted, and it wouldn’t affect her.

“Call him off, Brandon.”

“Jenna,” he sighed, and his tone turned patronizing. “Let’s not start this out by arguing.”

“I’m not arguing. I’m stating a fact.”

“You need to calm down and listen, Jenny-Penny.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I don’t know what Candice told you—”

“This isn’t about what Candice did or did not tell me.”

“I always knew she was a bad influence.”

Jenna’s voice rose, and she paced in a little half circle on the cool floor. “Give me some credit, Brandon. I can make up my own mind. I can make my own choices—”

“Is it about the surgery?”

“Yes!” She spun back to face Candice. The plastic surgery, and so much more.

“It’s already cancelled.”

“You bet your life it’s cancelled. So are my hair appointments and my spa membership. You might want me to have a perfect nose and sculpted abs, but that doesn’t mean I—”

Candice’s eyes went wide. She made a frantic calm down motion with her hand.

Jenna paused for a breath, raking her hand once more through her hair. Her auburn hair—a little bright, a little gaudy, but her own natural color.

“Jenna, honey, you just had to say so.”

Yeah. Right. Jenna scoffed silently and shook her head. Like her opinion about her body or anything else had ever counted.

“Brandon,” she began again, calmer this time. Resolute. “I am not the right person for you. And you are not the right person for me. Can we please leave it at that?”

Candice nodded, admiration in her eyes.

“So, that’s it?” asked Brandon, voice hardening. “You finally call and it’s to break up?”

“We broke up four months ago.”

“You had a tantrum four months ago.”

Jenna clenched her jaw. She would not rise to the bait. She was calm, in control. “Call it whatever you like. We’re through.”

“So, you think that’s it? You expect me to tell my colleagues that my little fiancée up and left me? Pawn the ring? Eat the ballroom deposit?”

“You can tell your colleagues any damn thing you want.” Jenna pressed two fingers tight against her forehead. She wondered how he’d explained her absence for the past four months. But she sure wasn’t going to ask him.

Brandon snorted derisively into the phone. He hated it when she swore. It wasn’t ladylike.

“And call off the damn P.I.,” she added for good measure.

The phone cracked as Brandon hung up, and she jerked it away from her ear.

Candice flinched, and they stared at each other in silence for a moment.

“Shall we take that as a yes?” asked Candice.

“I’m assuming so.” A sheepish grin pulled up the corners of Jenna’s mouth. Gosh, that had felt good.

“SAY IT ISN’T SO.” Tyler Reeve’s older brother Derek filled the doorway of his office. Derek’s chin was tipped up, and his arms were folded across his broad chest.

Tyler swore under his breath, following Derek’s gaze to the duffel and the damning sleeping bag, which he’d carelessly dropped on the couch an hour ago. “It isn’t so,” he deadpanned, turning his attention back to his computer monitor.

“Striker said things were bad, but jeez…” Derek took a step into Tyler’s outer office and kicked the door shut behind him.

“Striker should mind his own business,” said Tyler, referring to the middle Reeves brother. He punched in the password to his personal bank account on the receptionist’s computer, hoping to see that the lawyer’s escrow deposit had added a few zeros to his balance.

“At least come out and stay in the guest house,” said Derek.

“No thanks.”

“This is stubborn even for you.”

“I got myself into this mess. I’ll get myself out.” The deposit hadn’t cleared. Tyler closed his eyes for a second.

He needed that money. Needed it today. He’d already cleaned out his savings account.