What’s your name?” “Jane…er, Monica.” “Never heard of a name like that. Janermonica? You young people are always trying to come up with clever names for your kids. Whatever happened to simple names? Like Martha or Mary or Erma?” “No, it’s just Monica. Jane’s my…middle name. Some people call me that.”
“I see.” She took a corner at thirty, sending Jane slamming into the passenger side door, despite the seat belt.
She double-checked the door’s lock. God forbid she get thrown from the car. Then again, she thought as she held her hands forward to stop from splitting her face on the dashboard, that might give her a better chance at survival. The way Mabel drove, she’d be dead long before she reached Franklin. And that was only a couple of miles away. “You said Harding Street? Do you have family living there? I know just about everyone in my neighborhood.” “No, just a friend.” Curious to see what Mabel had to say about Jason, she added, “Do you know Jason Foxx?” “Foxx, you say? I sure do. Very nice young man. He mows my lawn for me. I used to pay that company—bunch of moneygrubbing thieves they were—but he offered to take care of my lawn, and I cook him a nice dinner once a week in return.”
“Really?” That didn’t sound like the kind of man who would leave his ex-girlfriend stranded at nine o’clock in a parking lot. Was there more than one Jason Foxx living on Harding Street?
“Yes, and last Christmas he bought me a lovely sweater and pants set. And he always asks if I need something when he goes to the grocery store. He’s a very sweet boy, says he needs to take care of me since I’m all alone. He’s a bachelor, you know. Broke up with his girlfriend a month or so ago, she looked a lot like you. Could be your double, come to think of it. But she sure didn’t act like you. Very uppity, that one was. Didn’t give me the time of day. I told him she wasn’t right for him. He deserves a nice girl. Someone like you.”
Jason Foxx was sounding less and less like the demon she’d imagined him to be. But Mabel’s description of Monica didn’t surprise her. The only time Monica was nice was when she needed something. “You mentioned you have a grandson. Does he live far away?”
“He lives in Ohio. I’ve been trying to convince him to move here but he won’t. I even offered to leave him my entire estate. I’ve been doing okay by myself, thanks to your friend, Mr. Foxx, but I know I can’t live alone much longer. And once they take my driver’s license, then I’ll be homebound, forced to rely on someone else to chauffeur me around. I hate the idea of losing my freedom.”
“I can understand that. Until tonight I’d forgotten what it’s like to be dependent on other people.” Jane relaxed as they turned onto Fourteen Mile Road. Only a half-mile or so to go. “What happened to you?”
“An old boyfriend had my car towed away. And I’m a little short on cash until payday.”
“Well, isn’t that despicable! What kind of man would do that to his girlfriend, broken up or not? You should pick better men to date, my dear.” She patted Jane’s hand. “Though if you ask me, there aren’t too many worth a second thought. Except that nice Mr. Foxx. Take my word for it, he’s something special. I’ve been married six times. I should know.” She pulled the car up a long, winding, wooded driveway and stopped in front of a gorgeous Greek revival colonial. “Here you are. This is Mr. Foxx’s home. Good luck, dear. Hope to see you again sometime.”
Jane smiled at Mabel, not only grateful for making it to Jason’s house alive but also having genuinely enjoyed the conversation. “Thank you. I do too. It was wonderful meeting you.”
Mabel nodded and gave her a conspiratorial wink. “I’ll put in a good word for you with Mr. Foxx. If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll listen to me.” Then with a wave, she turned the car around and drove away, leaving Jane hacking from the dust her tires kicked up, and standing in front of the most impressive, most intimidating house she’d ever seen. As she climbed the front stairs, she told herself it looked like a mansion in Beverly Hills, California.
But when she reached the door, she couldn’t convince herself to ring the bell. What the heck would she say to him, a man she’d never met but a man who’d think she was someone else, someone he’d been intimate with for who knows how long? “Excuse me, but can I please have the car back?” sounded like a good start. Problem was she didn’t know why he’d had it hauled away in the first place.
She spun around, wishing the porch lights weren’t so bright and hoping no one had seen her, and descended a single step. “God, I’ve made a mistake. I should have just gone home to my empty refrigerator. What am I doing here?” “I’d like to know the same thing,” a distinctly male voice said behind her. Its tone was deep and sexy but she also sensed a sharp, icy undertone.
Anxious to see what a multimillionaire jewelry broker who had old girlfriends’ cars repossessed looked like, she shivered and turned to face the source. “How did you know I was…?”
The multimillionaire jewelry broker looked too good for words, she realized the minute she’d turned completely. His last name was far more descriptive than she’d guessed. Jason Foxx was a mega-fox, an ultra-fox. The epitome of fox.
Her tongue glued itself to the roof of her mouth as she stood mute, taking in the sight of the most gorgeous man she’d ever met in person—starting at about mid-chest level, which was eye level to her since he was standing several steps higher, and rising slowly, following a nice bumpy ride over a completely nude, smooth-skinned chest and wide, well-developed shoulders. His skin was the color of her morning coffee—lots of cream, light on the coffee, and glistened slightly with sweat suggesting she’d caught him during a workout. He mopped his forehead with the white T-shirt he held in his fist.
Monica was one lucky girl! Very tall, handsome, and built like a tank, he was the kind of guy Jane had dreamed of marrying all her life. He even had her dream man’s dark, curly hair. Heck, he was better than her dream man. With picture-perfect features that were neither too pretty nor too rugged, he could easily be a model or a movie star. “…here?” she squeaked, recalling she’d stopped speaking mid-sentence some time ago.
The problem was he didn’t look happy to see her. His stubbled jaw was tight with pent-up tension. His dark eyes were narrowed into tiny slits. Nope, he wasn’t thrilled in the least.
“Security camera.” He pointed up. “I should have known you’d come here. The answer is no.” He started pushing the door closed
