Love Is the Drug Read online

  Love is the Drug

  A Novel

  by

  K.E. Saxon

  EDITORIAL REVIEW:

  From Romantic Times (RT Book Reviews)

  ~ 4 STARS ~

  “Saxon's latest is a wild ride, touching and sentimental. Jason and Julie are two wonderful people battling themselves and the attraction they feel for each other, surrounded by a colorful cast of supporting characters that add depth and dimension to a plot that is just as entertaining.”

  BOOK BLURB:

  A Texas bad boy meets his match in the shy, virginal sister of his sworn enemy.

  This is the story of Jason Jörgensen, an excitement-loving bad boy and Julie Del Mar, the quiet, romantic dreamer who breaches his devil-may-care façade and helps heal the frightened boy inside.

  Conceived during a violent rape, Jason knows deep down that he’s no good. So, as far as he’s concerned, his plan to never have children is not only sound, but also the right thing to do.

  Julie, orphaned at twelve, has now lost her surrogate parent—her older sister—to suicide. Returning to the only real home she ever had and someday making her own family is her most profound wish.

  Uncontrollable passion brings them together, but will a pregnancy test tear them apart?

  Smashwords Edition

  * * * *

  Love is the Drug

  Copyright © 2009 by K.E. Saxon

  http://www.kesaxon.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author K.E. Saxon, the copyright owner and publisher of this book, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the publisher. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in its work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover Art Copyright 2011 by Dara England, http://mycoverart.wordpress.com/

  Available Now:

  Diamonds and Toads: A Modern Fairy Tale

  Read excerpt at end of book

  * * * *

  Acknowledgements

  I am deeply grateful to Gerri Hanten for her myriad suggestions, her encouragement, and her friendship, as well as Nicki Thomsen, who so generously read my final draft and gave me feedback. Without these two women, I know this book would still be in the digital hell file on my computer.

  A special thanks to my husband for his love and enthusiastic support.

  K.E. Saxon

  * * *

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  DIAMONDS AND TOADS

  CHAPTER 1

  Summer 2009

  “There’s breaking news now on Fox News Channel. Fox News has just confirmed that Connie Del Mar has died.”

  Jason Jörgensen’s head whipped up and he honed in on the T.V. screen across the room. He picked up the remote and turned up the volume.

  “The body of Del Mar, the actress best known for her roles as ditzy blondes in such movies as GO FIGURE and the British spoof on California, BLONDE: IT’S THE NEW BRUNETTE!, was found dead in the master bath of her fashionable Laurel Canyon home in Los Angeles around ten o’clock this morning.”

  Jason leaned forward and placed the contracts he’d been reading on the couch beside him.

  “Her wrists had been slit and there was an empty bottle of prescription sleeping pills nearby. A suicide note was pinned to the back of the door. Del Mar’s body was found by her maid. The Los Angeles County medical examiner said an autopsy showed her time of death to be around 6 a.m.

  She was born Janette Constance Del Mar in Ft. Worth, Texas on November the 12th of 1983. Her last role…”

  Jason collapsed back. The abrupt movement sent his contracts sliding to the floor, but he ignored them.

  Connie Del Mar was dead. And it wouldn’t be long before the tabloids would be rehashing the old story of her accusation against him.

  But would they even bother with his rebuttal? Knowing the media, they’d no doubt fixate on the scintillating details of the first and barely skim over the last.

  This could not be good for the client he and his partner had just signed with to develop and design their new Women’s Clinic complex. He’d better call Paul right now and give him the news.

  Jason muted the television, reached behind him and grabbed his cell phone off the console table behind the couch. He punched the quick dial number for the direct line to Paul’s office phone and strummed his fingers on his thigh as he waited for the connect and subsequent pickup.

  “Paul Reese here.”

  “Paul. It’s Jason.”

  It took about a minute to settle things with his partner, who agreed to take the full burden of their new project while Jason stayed as far out of the limelight as possible for a while.

  Jason hung up and called his attorney. Stan picked up before the first ring was completed.

  “I’ve heard—I’ve already started a statement to the press.”

  One kink in Jason’s neck relaxed. “Good. Read it to me.”

  “ ‘My client holds no ill-will toward the troubled actress and was saddened to hear of her suicide. However, he stands by his statements of five years ago that he never attempted to give her a date rape drug, nor did he ever try to force her to have sex with him.’ ”

  “Fine. It’s short and to the point. Go with it.”

  After he hung up with Stan, Jason rested his head back against the couch.

  He closed his eyes.

  His life and his unraveled relationship with his father had just started to get back on track—and now this.

  A wave of dread rose up in his chest. He took a deep breath and it eased, so he took another one. He was not looking forward to the next conversation. He hoped this wouldn’t put his dad into a tailspin. In fact, he hoped his dad hadn’t heard the news yet so that Jason could break it to him gently.

  The phone started ringing. Jason brought it up close to his face and opened his eyes. Shit. He hadn’t been fast enough. He pressed the answer button with his thumb and swung the phone over to his ear. “Hi, Dad. I know, I know. Connie Del Mar is dead. I was about to call you.”

  “How ya holdin’ up?”

  “Me? It’s you I’m worried about. This isn’t going to
give you another heart attack is it?”

  “No. Why would you even think it would?”

  “Oh, I don’t know—maybe because the last one came directly on the heels of the first media blitz that pulled my name through the mud—and put you out of business?”

  “Jason, I was well on my way to that episode before the situation with Connie and Joyride Amusement Parks happened. And Gabriel Jörgensen Company was already broke—or pert near it. It wasn’t going to take much to instigate a heart attack. Believe me, I’ve had five years to come to terms with my own responsibility for my deteriorating health.”

  “Still. I’d feel better if you’d go in to see your cardiologist. Just to make sure.”

  The answering sigh from his father produced a tickling sensation in Jason’s ear. He tugged on the lobe, but refused to back down. He was rewarded when in the next second his father said, “Fine. If it’ll make you stop being such a worry wart, I’ll call for an appointment tomorrow.”

  Jason rolled his eyes and shook his head but replied, “Thanks, Dad. It will.”

  “I wonder how that sweet little Julie is handling all this. I saw her on the news earlier and she didn’t look good. Real pale and fragile. Like she was barely holding it together.”

  “Julie? Who’s Julie?”

  “Julie Del Mar. Connie’s little sister. You remember her. Ya’ll met in the elevator lobby that afternoon as you and Connie were leaving on your dinner date.”

  “It wasn’t a date, Dad. You make it sound like there was romance involved. It was a business meeting. And yeah, I vaguely remember meeting the kid. She was dark-headed. Skinny. Had kind of straight long hair and scraggly bangs, as I recall. How old was she, fifteen, sixteen?”

  “Seventeen. And full of spit and vinegar. But real quiet, ya know? Not loud, like Connie. I liked her. She must’ve asked me a hundred questions about how to start a business. I remember, I was just walking to the elevator to leave for the day when she came up to me and introduced herself.” Jason’s dad chuckled. “By the time she was finished saying her name and what her relationship to Connie was, she was as red as my Christmas long johns.” He sighed and Jason could imagine him shaking his head in that way he did. “What a gal.”

  “Well, I’m sorry for her. It sounds like she’s nothing like her sister.”

  “No, she’s not. Got a good head on her shoulders, that one. But she’s young and I’m worried now that she’s got no one older and wiser to watch out for her, advise her. I just hope the media barracudas don’t go in for the kill.”

  “Connie had money. Her lawyers are probably looking out for Julie’s—and their—best interest.”

  “Yeah, it’s not much, but you’re probably right. I hope you’re right, at least.”

  Jason leaned down and picked up the contracts from the floor. “Dad, I think it’s a good idea for me to lay low for a while. Just until the initial media feeding frenzy dies down.”

  “Hold on! I’ve got just the solution. Go up to Buffalo Pass and bid on some land I’ve had my eye on. It’s going on the block in a coupla weeks and it’s the perfect spot for that fishing resort you and I have been jawin’ about building for years. Whatcha say?”

  Jason tried straightening the papers as best he could with one hand. “Buffalo Pass? Never heard of it.”

  “It’s up near the Dallas/Ft. Worth area. Beautiful country. Lots of oak, lots of mesquite. I’m hoping we can get it for somewhere in the million- dollar range, but it’s worth more.” His tone held a trace of sarcasm as he continued, “I want to buy it before some developer for a fast food chain or a box store gets it.”

  “Hey. Bite your tongue.”

  Jason’s dad crowed. “Gotcha!” All at once, a clamber of bumps and bangs blasted through the receiver, followed instantly by the sound of shuffling and a muffled, “Shit.”

  Jason’s heart leapt out of his chest and he jumped to his feet. “HELLO? DAD? YOU ALL RIGHT?” He was halfway to the door before his dad answered.

  “Sorry. You still there? I dropped the phone.”

  “Yeah,”—he took in a deep breath—“I’m still here.” As he plopped back onto the couch, he said, “Now, about this property. I don’t know if my going up there is such a good idea. What if the media follow me? I was thinking I’d just stay here in Houston, close to home, for the next few weeks. You know, stock up on food and water and pretend it’s the aftermath of a catastrophic event. Jason lifted a brow. “Which it is, now that I think about it.”

  “Well, they haven’t aired anything about that fiasco five years ago yet. If you get out of town now, they won’t know where you are. And by the time they figure it out, the story of Connie’s death is going to be two weeks old. That’s stale news in the world of journalism. Especially tabloid journalism.”

  Jason rested his head back and looked up at the custom track lighting that ran the length of his twelve-foot ceilings. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right.” He sat forward. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

  “Great!”

  “Just give me directions because I’d bet my antique drafting table that it’s not on the GPS. I bet even Google Maps doesn’t have a satellite image of it. ‘Course my ’67 Vette doesn’t have a GPS anyway, and I’d better get that car out of storage and use it. That way I can keep my BMW in my high rise’s parking garage.”

  “Good idea. Maybe you’ll finally meet a female up there that can appreciate that machine for what it is: The jewel in the crown of General Motors’ automobile empire. That’ll be the gal to marry. Mark my words.”

  Jason rolled his eyes. “Not that old saw again. And the only reason I own that car now is because you refused to take it when I bought it for you.”

  Jason heard the grin in his dad’s voice when he said, “Yep, she’s cherry. Marina blue with white interior. Just like the one I had in high school. But I’m not in the market for a mate—”

  “Neither am I.”

  “—I bagged the only babe I ever wanted to be with when I married your mom.”

  The kink tightened in Jason’s neck again. “Yeah, Mom was a real ace.”

  After a moment of strained silence, Jason’s dad cleared his throat. “You’d better take down the directions now, I don’t want to email anything. Those tabloid reporters don’t think twice about legalities when they’re on the trail of a story.”

  Jason felt the tension in his muscles subside. “And how would you know that?”

  “I heard it on Inside Edition.”

  “Isn’t that a tabloid news show?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  Jason shook his head and smiled. “Nothing.” He retrieved his pen and notepad from the cocktail table. “Now—about those directions.”

  After getting the route to the place out in the boonies of Northeast Texas, Jason hung up, shoved the contracts back into the packet, and left it, along with a note for his assistant, on his dining room table. Then he packed his bags. Light. He had no intention of staying one minute longer than was necessary.

  Hell.

  Please don’t let it be a dry county. With no women and no nightlife.

  He could just see it now: Even if there was a bar, its clientele was probably made up of crusty old farts and their plump, matronly wives.

  Fun.

  * * *

  At eleven-forty-five on the morning of the auction, Jason pushed the disconnect button on his cell and grabbed the keys off the table next to the door of the small, furnished bungalow he’d rented.

  The bidding would be starting in fifteen minutes. He was cutting it close, but it couldn't be helped. Their new client—the one he and Paul had promised impeccable service to win the bid—had insisted on a conference call this morning to go over the designs Jason had presented to them several weeks ago. They had questions and concerns that only he, the architect, could answer. And unfortunately, the call had taken longer than he'd anticipated.

  Luckily, the auction property was only about ten minutes from here, so he’d still be there in plen
ty of time to make a quick scope of his competitors and gauge what it might take to outbid them.

  Then, after he clinched the deal on the property, he’d be able to pack up and get back into the swing of things in Houston.

  And it wouldn’t be a moment too soon as far as he was concerned. Because this town was almost as bad as he’d envisioned, except the demographic wasn’t quite as bleak. It had about the same ratio of young to old, male to female, as most places he’d been. There were just a lot fewer of them.

  Just as he was turning the knob on the front door, the bell rang. Shit! He swung the door wide.

  “Hi ya, Sugar.”

  Nora Lee Blum. The husband hunting divorcée. Fucking fabulous.

  Jason closed the door a couple of inches. “Listen—”

  But Nora Lee squeezed her rounded tail end and silicone tits through the crack and sashayed across the living room in red sling-back stilettos straight from Frederick’s.

  Jason’s brain froze. He couldn’t help it; his eyes riveted on her skintight white mini skirted ass and Invader Instinct took over.

  “Which way’s your kitchen?” she tossed over her shoulder. “Oh. Here it is. Why, Sugar, this is downright gloomy. You need to open those blinds and let a little light in.”

  Her Texas lilt broke through his momentary sex fog. She was clearly gunning to stay awhile, if the casserole in her hand was any indication. He looked at his watch and stormed toward the kitchen. “Nora Lee, I’ve got somewhere I have to be.” He jerked the dish out of her hand, dumped it on the table, and then hustled her back toward the front door.