Chapter 4

Jennifer.

Jonathan could not get her out of his mind. Not as he drove through the darkened city to the townhouse he shared with Max, his friend and majordomo. Not as he drifted to sleep, her honeyed eyes crinkling with laughter, so sharp and bright. Not in his dreams, as he traced her strong shoulders and felt the muscles bunch between his fingertips.

Not even as he boarded a plane at LAX and took the nearly three hour flight up to Seattle.

Their paths had crossed at some point, and he came up short in her estimation.

In Ritz. Less than twenty but more than five years ago.

Impossible. Preposterous. But her feline smile told him differently. She knew him and she wasn't sure she liked him.

He didn't know her, but he wanted to and he was pretty sure he'd like her. Very much.

When Jonathan met the driver from McDowell Aviation outside the Delta terminal, he was forced to put the enigmatic Ms Jennifer from his thoughts. For now.

"Oh cheer up old buddy. You never could out-maneuver me." Bill was far too cocky for Jonathan's liking, but the truth was he'd lost fair and square. "I must say you died a heroic death. We'll all remember you fondly."

"Thanks a lot." Jonathan watched one of his oldest friends light up a victory cigar and shook his head ruefully. He might have managed to win the dogfight if he hadn't let himself get distracted by Jennifer. Something she said was tickling the back of his mind, but every time he tried to place it the recognition would slip away. Even the fast paced adrenaline pump of a dogfight wasn't enough to drive her from his thoughts entirely.

It was frustrating and so unlike him.

"Uh oh." Bill said, puffing smoke between them while Jonathan climbed out of the simulation cockpit. "You have that look."

Jonathan felt his shoulders hunch a little. He never could slip anything by Bill for long. "What look?"

"Oh." Bill's tone was knowing, and that pissed him off just a little bit. "Oh it's bad. What's her name?"

Jonathan tossed the helmet back into the seat. "I'll tell you about it. Later."

Bill gave him a long look, then blew out a long breath of sweet smelling cigar smoke. Jonathan waved it away impatiently.

"Alright, be that way." Bill acquiesced. " Come on, let's get out of this stuff and I'll give you the grand tour."

It hadn't been a surprise to Jonathan that Bill wanted to discuss the sale of his company. In fact, it was a likely enough topic that Jonathan already had a plan in place for moving forward. A little recon on the down low before he ever entertained bringing it to the board. He was touched that Bill trusted him enough to take over the company he'd built, but Jonathan had reservations about stepping in front of Bill's only surviving son.

He'd do his due-diligence, though. He really had been after McDowell Aviation for years and years.

For his part, Bill had the good sense to wait until after they'd finished their bland lunch entirely before he launched into the inquisition.

"So what's her name, Valentine?" Bill slugged back some water and winced. Water was not his preferred post-lunch refreshment.

Jonathan thought about prevaricating but what would that accomplish? Bill was a tenacious man. Jonathan hardly told Bill about the women in his life, no matter how long or briefly they were together, but he wouldn't relax until he found out what was bothering his friend. Besides, maybe talking it out would help Jonathan pinpoint the elusive woman filling his thoughts.

"Jennifer. Her name is Jennifer." The thrill of recognition was back and Jonathan felt the hairs on his arms prickle.

"And you've slept with her." A statement not a question.

"Actually, according to her, no." Jonathan chuckled, recalling the absolute shock at her revelation. He wasn't the playboy the tabloids liked to paint him out to be, but he had a knack with women. And Jennifer was a woman he'd have pursued. She was exactly his type. Beautiful, bold, smart, sassy.

"You didn't sleep with her. But you wanted to?"

Well, of course he did. Now. But did he then? When they last saw each other? How was he supposed to know.

"That's the thing. I don't remember." He admitted. "She says we met once before, at the Ritz in London. But it's the damndest thing, Bill. I don't remember her. I would. She's gorgeous."

"You always did have a memory for the ladies. I can't imagine you'd forget one." Bill eyed him closer, his eyes narrowing in concern. "This isn't like that time you blanked out for…what was it? A week?"

Jonathan shook his head. More than a decade earlier, Jonathan literally ran into a man on a motor scooter. He flew ass over teakettle and when he came to, he didn't remember a thing. It took over a week, and a lot of hovering by Max, to recover his memory. Even Bill had flown down to help out. When he did finally recover from his short bout of amnesia, it was to the shocking realization that a friend had been involved with a murder. This blank hole in his recall reminded him of those days, and it drove a little spike of anxiety into his heart.

"No, I don't think it's like that. I've only ever been to London alone for business. And even then it's less than a handful of times. And almost all of those visits were regarding the Kingsford bail out."

"Oh, yeah, I remember that. What did you call it? Dollars across the sea?"

"Something like that." The niggling feeling was back. It was something she said. The last thing. He repeated it now. "Bail out a friend."

"Huh?" Bill was rummaging for another cigar. "Do you want a drink? I can find something a little stouter than water, I bet."

"Kingsford. It was a bail-out." He knew he was on the right track. The trip was something of a blur, all told. He arrived in London exhausted and out of sorts, hounded as he was by so many reporters.

And then he'd been chased out of his room by that one journalist She'd called and said there was a leak in the room above. It was a good ploy and might have worked if he'd been a little more tired and didn't remember he was in the penthouse suite. And her name…

Her name had been…

"Jennifer Edwards, room 1235." Jennifer stopped at the front desk to collect her messages. There weren't many, but the last one stopped her in her tracks. She tried to bite back the smile, to tamp down the sudden warmth in her chest.

It was a simple message.

Kingsford Motors. JH. (213) 555-4278

He remembered.