She walked into the living room. A cream-colored sofa sat in front of a bleached-pine coffee table. There was a gold-tone floor lamp in the corner and a stereo system sitting on the floor. She’d never used the fireplace. The walls were bare. She wanted to compare it to a hotel room, but hotels put a lot more thought into their decorating.
The bedroom was just as bad. A bed had been pushed up against one wall. That was it. No pictures, no furniture. In the closet, built-in drawers held her small collection of cotton underwear. Her clothing consisted of jeans, shirts and one black lacy dress.
“Pretty pathetic,” she muttered, slipping off her robe and reaching for a pair of jeans.
She’d spent the past week immobilized by pain. She wasn’t going to do that anymore. She had to get on with her life. The task seemed daunting, but that was because she was looking at it all at once. She would do better to break it into smaller, more manageable sections. At least there was plenty of money in her account. The agency had paid well, and she hadn’t been around to spend much. She could go back to college or travel. She didn’t have to find a job anytime soon.
But she did have to start living.
She pulled a sweatshirt over her head, then brushed her hair. After weaving it into a braid, she collected her keys and her credit cards, then headed out.
Jamie hovered outside the boutique. The fancy lettering on the window scared her. She knew she didn’t look like any of the well-dressed customers that had gone in while she’d been lurking on the sidewalk. Yet the store had everything she’d wanted. Over the past week, in between crying jags, she’d called around to find a place that would fill her needs. Now all she needed was the courage to step inside.
She reminded herself that less than two months ago, she’d walked into an armed enemy camp and carried out a wounded prisoner. Compared to that, what was a little shopping?
Inside, the air was comfortable and lightly scented with roses. Jamie glanced at all the racks, trying to figure out what she needed first. The boutique had a wide selection of clothing, undergarments and accessories, including shoes. In theory, she could get everything she needed with one stop. That was her goal. Later, when she had more experience, she would venture out to a mall.
“May I be of assistance?”
She turned toward the voice and saw a small gray-haired woman standing in front of her. The woman couldn’t be much over five feet tall, with a tiny waist and miniature feet. Jamie felt as petite and graceful as a giraffe. The urge to bolt was strong.
She sucked in a breath. Only the truth would work in this situation. “I need help. Bad. I’ve only ever worn jeans. I want to dress better, but I don’t know what styles look good on me. I’m hopeless with accessories and makeup. I haven’t done anything but trim my bangs and occasionally hack off a couple of inches of length on my hair.”
The gray-haired woman smiled. “What’s your name?”
“Jamie.”
“Jamie, I’m Sandra and I’m going to change your life.”
Four hours later, Jamie found out Sandra wasn’t kidding. They started with casual clothes. Although Jamie liked the frilly blouses and fuller pants and skirts, they looked horrible on her. Fitted or tailored was better. Pants with tucked-in shirts, coordinated belts and flats emphasized her athletic build. For fun there were shorts, denim skirts and one scrap of black leather that barely covered her thighs. She tried on a couple of suits she just had to have, then they moved to dressier clothing.
Shortly after two, Sandra sent out for sandwiches. When they’d eaten, Jamie stripped and began trying on lingerie. Soon she had a wardrobe of lacy bras with matching panties.
Earrings had never been part of her style. She couldn’t wear them on the job, and she’d never bothered in her off-duty hours. But she allowed a young man to pierce her earlobes, then chose a collection of pretty earrings to wear when she could take out the diamond studs she now wore.
By three-thirty she was being escorted across the street, where Andre promised to work a miracle on her hair. Her skin was vacuumed, her pores cleansed, her feet pedicured and her fingers massaged. While this was done, Andre cut off six inches of hair, gave her a deep conditioning, then blew her hair dry over a fat, round brush.
A six-foot redheaded amazon beauty then explained the mysteries of makeup, chose a foundation that actually matched Jamie’s skin and didn’t streak.
By six Jamie was back in her apartment. She’d maxed out a credit card. Instead of feeling shocked, she was thrilled. “I should have done this years ago,” she said as she scampered to the bathroom.
She walked into the room, closed her eyes, flipped on the light, then opened her eyes. A stranger stared back. A pretty stranger with thick, shoulder-length hair that swayed and bounced. Andre’s cut had freed up natural waves Jamie didn’t know she’d had. He’d trimmed her bangs and thinned them until they were wisps. Makeup highlighted her wide hazel eyes.
Color stained her cheeks and her mouth. Diamond earrings glinted at her earlobes.
In place of worn blue jeans, she wore a denim skirt, a fitted T-shirt with a suede vest hanging open. Jamie laughed out loud. She looked…normal.
She stared at the piles of boxes and bags all over the floor. She had shoes, makeup, clothes, lingerie, accessories. She was going to have to buy a dresser. Maybe even a nightstand and another lamp.
She ignored the packages and walked into her kitchen. Sitting in the middle of the round oak table was the plant she’d bought herself.
She’d never had a plant before. It implied permanence. That she would be staying here indefinitely. That she would be around enough to take care of it and talk to it. It made the sterile apartment more of a home.
She put a cup of water in the microwave to heat it for instant coffee, then leaned against the sink and stared out at the bay. The sun drifted toward the water, making the waves glimmer with gold. The emptiness inside was still there-it would always be there-but right now it was bearable. She hadn’t yet learned how to forget, but eventually she would figure out how to go on living. Who knows, she might even get herself together enough to go to the trouble to make a pot of coffee for just herself.
The microwave beeped and the phone rang at the same moment. Jamie’s heart jumped into overdrive. She reached for the receiver as her heart sent up a fervent prayer. Please, let it be Zach.
“Hello?”
“Sanders, you bored by retirement yet?”
The pain was so intense, she thought she might be dying. Not Zach. Foolish of her to think he would call. He’d made his choice and he was never going to admit he was wrong.
She sank to the floor and pulled her knees close to her chest. After taking a deep breath so her voice wouldn’t shake, she said, “I’m fine, Winston. How are you?”
“I’m spending a lot of time wondering how I’m supposed to get anything done without you.”
The microwave beeped softly to remind her about the heated water. She ignored it.
“You have lots of capable agents. I’m sure they can step in for me without any problem.”
“You were a little more than capable. What have you been doing with yourself? I’ve been calling every couple of weeks, and this is the first time I’ve caught you home.”
“I’ve been-” She squeezed her eyes shut. I’ve been falling in love with a wonderful man. I’ve been living the fantasy. I’ve been making plans and watching them disappear into dust.
“I’ve been adjusting,” she said.
“Not easy, is it?” His voice was low and sympathetic.
“No, but I’m determined to keep trying. I’ll figure it all out.”
“Maybe you don’t have to.”
“What does that mean?”
“I used to be a field agent, just like you. After ten years, I tried to walk away.”
The microwave beeped again. She opened her eyes and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I didn’t know that.”
“Not many people do. The point is, I couldn’t make it on the outside. I needed the agency. It was in my blood. So I came back.”
“Is that what this phone call is about?” she asked, then shook her head. “I’m not interested, Winston. I’ve made my decision and I’m going to stick to it.”
