She nodded. “Do you want to go to her hotel, and make sure she’s all right?” she asked through a tight throat.
He glanced away. “I’d like to call, at the very least. She recently left substance abuse rehab, and it’s a vulnerable time for her. I was shocked to see her here in San Francisco. And she’s relapsed. Again. Elizabeth is going to hear it from me, for letting it slip I was in San Francisco tonight. I can’t imagine what she was thinking,” he said grimly.
“Do you love her?” Harper blinked, shocked that the words had spilled out of her throat. “It’s just . . . I’ve never seen you so undone, so clearly upset,” she rushed to explain.
“No. I’m not in love with her.”
Harper nodded slowly. “And what was all that with that man . . . Clint Jefferies? Why was he so shocked to see you with Regina?”
The car came to a halt.
“That,” Jacob replied somberly, sliding over on the seat and reaching for the door, “was just a very unfortunate chance meeting.”
• • •
Harper awoke in the middle of the night, disoriented. She found a bedside lamp and switched it on.
She looked around Jacob’s enormous suite, her heart sinking when she realized she was alone. Jacob’s side of the bed hadn’t been touched. She rubbed at her blurry eyes and focused on a nearby clock. It was twenty minutes past three in the morning.
Earlier, Jacob had escorted her up to his suite and caught her hand.
“Why don’t you get ready for bed? I’m just going to make that phone call to Regina, to make sure she’s all right.”
Harper nodded and turned to go, but he halted her, squeezing on her hand. He pulled her against him, one hand cupping her hip, the other her jaw. He tilted her face up. His mouth brushed hers. Harper felt her pulse leap at her throat, her reaction to him unchanged despite the weird, bewildering evening.
“I am sorry, Harper. You have no idea.”
“I know. I hope she’s okay,” she whispered sincerely.
He’d swept down then, seizing her mouth. It was like he was telling her something with that forceful, quick kiss, but Harper didn’t know what. A moment later, he released her abruptly and headed toward a closed wooden door without a backward glance. She knew from Marianne’s brief tour of his quarters that the door led to a private office. She watched him open and shut the door behind him, then went to the guest bathroom to change.
Feeling self-conscious and highly unsure, she pulled out the short, black silk nightgown she’d brought. Knowing what she knew about Jacob, she’d guessed she wouldn’t require pajamas over the weekend. She’d assumed they’d be sleeping naked. Fortunately, she had brought the nightgown, but now regretted its sexiness, given how the evening was turning out.
Now it was hours later, and she still wore the nightgown and slept alone. She rose from the luxurious bed, listening for any sound of movement or noise that might give her an indication of Jacob’s whereabouts. A terrace door was opened. The only thing she could hear was the sound of the ocean surf hitting the beach far below the cliff.
She anxiously approached Jacob’s closed office door. For several seconds, she stood poised with her fist in the air, hesitating. She grit her teeth, her knuckles finally landing on the wood.
“Jacob?” she called.
Silence.
She rapped again and said his name.
The knob turned smoothly in her hand. She pushed open the door, and it swung inward, revealing his opulent, dimly lit, completely empty office.
• • •
He returned to Sea Cliff just past dawn, bone-tired and bleary-eyed. A surge of adrenaline went through him, however, when he walked into his bedroom suite and saw his made, empty bed.
Shit. He’d assumed he’d be back before Harper woke up. He stalked down the hallway in search of Marianne.
You shouldn’t have let her believe that Regina was a former lover.
He’d had no choice, though. The conclusion she’d jumped to had been believable and simple, while the truth was far more complicated and disquieting . . .
. . . Not to mention closer to Harper than she’d ever suspect.
He found Marianne helping his cook, Alfred, unpack some groceries in the kitchen.