“Well, why do you think you can’t do this?”

With a scowl, she replied.  “I don’t have a kitchen.”

Okay, that would be a major drawback for a caterer.  She really hadn’t thought this through.  “What else?”

“Does anything else matter?”

“Humour me.”

Em gusted out a sigh, and began to enumerate on her fingers.  “I don’t have the kind of vehicle I need.  I don’t have any help.  I don’t have all the things a caterer would need like serving dishes, warming dishes, utensils.  The list goes on.”

“I suppose you can’t cook, either.”

Jonathan worked hard to restrain the laugh wanting to burst free.  He wondered if she got light-headed from the way blood receded and flowed in and out her head.  Fire flashed up in cheeks that had been ghostly pale seconds ago.

Her revolving colour reminded him of one of those old fashioned barber poles.

She shot out of her chair.  “Of course I can cook!”

“Good to know.  It sounded like you needed reminding.  Of course…”

“Of course what?”

“I was thinking that maybe I could recommend your services to some of my friends, but I can’t just take your word for it that you can cook.”

Plopping back into the chair, her expression dazed, she said, “What?  You’d do that for me?”

Yeah, he would.  After watching her the last few days, he had no doubt she could do whatever she set her mind to.  Obviously a fighter, Em wouldn’t let life push her aside.  One way or the other, she was the type to achieve her goals—by herself if necessary.  Since—for some reason—he wanted to help her, this time it wouldn’t be necessary.

“Maybe.  But like I said, I only have your word that you’re worth the risk.  Tell you what, why don’t you cook for Alicia and I tonight?  It will give Essie a break too.  She gets upset with me whenever I tell her she’s doing too much.”

M closed her eyes.  He’s diabolical. Her first instinct was to tell him to take his offer and shove it, but how could she do that now?  She knew Estelle—Essie?  For a guy that didn’t like to use diminutive’s of people’s names he was sure free with them!—was having a hard time keeping up, but her pride demanded she keep going.  M respected her.  She’d even found herself comparing Estelle to her own mother.

Why fight it?  If she could do something to ease Estelle’s burden, she would.

While heaving a giant sigh, she said, “Okay.”

“So gracious.”

He stood up, said, “Stay there for a minute,” and walked out of the office.

If he hadn’t have been blocking the doorway talking to his sister, M would have got up and left.

Who did he think he was?  Insulting her, throwing orders at her?  Oh, yeah.  And let’s not forget he can make me denounce the whole born again virgin thing with just a touch. If Alicia hadn’t spoken up when she did, M feared she would have wrapped herself around Jonathan, tackled him to the floor, and had her wicked way with him.

She heard two sets of footsteps.  Alicia’s running in the other direction, and his approaching.  He came into her line of vision, started to prop himself on the desk beside her, hesitated, then went back around his desk to sit down.

“Alicia tells me you want to do some work in my mother’s garden.”

What?  M floundered at the change in topic.  Had she made yet another stupid mistake?  Was she going to lose the chance he’d just offered her because of it?

“Y…yes.  Is that okay?  I’m sorry if it upsets you.”

“No, I have no problem with it.  She mentioned you thought the two of you could make it into a special place for her to remember our father.  I think that’s a great idea.  Do whatever you want.”

More relieved than she cared to admit, she said, “Thanks.  I don’t know anything about gardening, so don’t expect too much.  We’re going to get some books from the library.”

Jonathan leaned back in his chair and watched her for a moment.  “Why not?”

“Why not what?”

“Why don’t you know much about gardening?  Doesn’t it interest you?”

She squirmed in her seat.  “Ah, I don’t really know if it does.  I’ve just…well, I’ve…I’ve never had a real home, you know?  So, I haven’t had the opportunity to find out.”

Thankfully, Alicia came barrelling back into the room and put an end to his line of questioning.

“Here you go, Jonny.”

She leaned against his side and handed him what looked like a wallet.

“Thanks, Allioop.”

He pulled out a credit card and handed it to M.  “Take Alicia and go do some grocery shopping for dinner tonight.  You can hit the library after that.”

Other than shaking her head, M didn’t move.  “I’m not taking that.  And stop ordering me around.”

He looked at his sister.  “Guess I forgot to say please, eh?”

“That’s not nice, Jonny.”

“Please take this and pick up some groceries for tonight.  But I’m telling you right now, buy us Brussels sprouts and you’ll have a problem on your hands.”

What was that I said the other day?  Oh yeah.  I’m not handing anyone the gun or ammunition for someone to take a shot at me.  Well, I’m not letting them hand it to me, either.

She’d been accused of theft by Jonathan’s ilk before, because after all, someone like them would never stoop so low.  People like M didn’t have to sink, they were already there.

Well, she was smart enough to learn from past experience.

“I’ll pay.  I’ll give you the bill so you can reimburse me, but I’m not taking your credit card.”

“I’m sending Alicia with you.  I’m fairly sure you’re not going to abscond with her, or go on a shopping spree with my card while she’s with you.”

M stood up.  “Thanks.  You’re right.  I wouldn’t do either.  But I’m still not taking your card.  You can pay me back later.”

Trying to ease her own tension, she wiggled her brows and continued. “Besides, I know where you live, and I know you’re good for the cash.”

Turning to Alicia, M put out her hand.  “So, Miss Alicia, are you ready to take your first excursion with me?  Just us girls?”

Alicia, still leaning against her brother’s arm, didn’t say anything for a moment.  Instead, she accessed M with an intense frown, then looked at Jonathan.

He picked her up and sat her on his lap.  “Whadaya think, Allioop?  Do you want to go?”

Finally a grin broke free, and she bellowed, “Let’s go!”

The breath M had been holding on to blew out with a loud sigh.  Jonathan looked at her and grinned.  “Then off you go.  Lucky me, I get to have a meal with two beautiful ladies tonight.”

M realized the spirit in which the comment had been made, but her heart caught, and her tummy fluttered.

He thinks I’m beautiful.

Alicia ran to her side, but M remained rooted to the floor, her gaze caught up with his.  She wondered if he could feel the way the air between them seemed to sizzle and burn like an electrical charge.

If the heat in his stare was anything to go by, he could.

Installment 25 Coming Soon!

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]]> http://www.read-a-romance.com/contemporary_romance/looking-for-home-24/feed/ 0 http://www.read-a-romance.com/contemporary_romance/looking-for-home-23/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=looking-for-home-23 http://www.read-a-romance.com/contemporary_romance/looking-for-home-23/#comments Fri, 02 Jul 2010 18:07:14 +0000 admin http://www.read-a-romance.com/?p=933 Go to Page 1 or Previous Installment

He tossed her a glance as he walked by and went to lean against the far side of his desk.  Out of sight of the doorway.

Apparently he threw some sort of invisible lasso along with that glance, because despite wanting to stand firm and hold her ground, she found herself meekly following.

“You know, for someone who needs a place to stay, you’re always quick with the offer to pack your bags and leave.”

She stuck her chin out at him.  “Yeah, well, I’ve learned the hard way that it’s better than sticking around until someone forces you to leave.”

“Sounds like an interesting story.  Care to share?”

“No.”

He shrugged.  “Okay.  So, Em…ployee, why are you ready to run out on us again?”

“My name is not Employee.”

“So what it?”

“M.”

“Uh huh.  Well, since you won’t tell me your full name, and I don’t want to call you Em, you’ll just have to put up with whatever I call you.  Now again, why are you forever ready to take off on us?”

He made her sound like some sort of coward, or someone who couldn’t commit.

“I don’t want to go.  But I messed up.  I shouldn’t be looking after a child.  I wasn’t even thinking about her safety around the pool.  I should have known better.”

“Then I guess we’ll both have to leave her high and dry.”

M gasped.  “What?”

“Well, based on your rationale, the only people who should be taking care of a child are those that have all the answers and always know what to do.  That counts me out.  I’m still learning and still making mistakes.  Hey, two days ago I didn’t know you weren’t supposed to hit a choking person on the back.  I could have hurt her if I’d done that.”

Rendered speechless, she could only stare at him.  She’d thought for sure he’d want to toss her out for endangering Alicia.

“And up until just now, I’ve always sent her to her room as discipline.  As you so charmingly pointed out your first day here, playing in her room with her toys isn’t going to teach her much of a lesson.  Maybe I should cut out and leave you here with her.  You seem to have a handle on more things than I do.”

“Stop it.  Just stop it!  What if she can hear you?  You’ll never leave her, and we both know it.  You’ve made your point.”

She covered her face with her hands, refusing to let him see she hovered on tears yet again.  But these were a different kind of tears.  For months now her life had been nothing more than a seething ball of anguish that she desperately tried to overcome.  Yet every time she felt as if she’d finally pulled herself out of the pit of despair, something new threatened to bury her.

This current development blindsided her.  Jonathan Davenport, a.k.a. richy rich, living in this cold, ice castle so far out of her realm, in a rather round about, not to mention insulting way, had just offered her a hand out of the pit.

While others who’d claimed to know her, to love her, had been quick to level charges against her, he absolved her.

She felt him grasp her wrists and pull her hands away from her face.  “Why are you so upset?  Do you think I can’t see you’ve been protecting her in one way or another since you got here?  I know this wasn’t deliberate, and I know you’ll be insanely vigilant in the future.”

Jonathan didn’t let go of her hands.  Instead, while his better judgement screamed don’t do it in his mind, he pulled her closer.

For the last few days she’d drifted around the house like a wraith, and it bothered him.  In the short time he’d known her she hadn’t backed down from anything.  Something had sapped the spirit from her.

Oh, she’d been pleasant and polite.  He’d watched her with Alicia, doing her best to mend the damage Summer caused.  So gentle, so tentative, in her treatment of his baby sister.  But her fire, her spark, had diminished, if not died.

He’d waited for her to come to him about her business.  She hadn’t.  Could that be the problem?

He refused to let go when she tried to pull her hands free.

“Please, let me go.  I shouldn’t be here.  I should never have come to Toronto in the first place.  I should just go back ho…go somewhere else.”

“Why?  Why shouldn’t you be here?”

She pulled in such a deep breath her whole body expanded with it.

“Because now I fell like I’m living here under false pretences and taking advantage of you.  I didn’t really think this through.  At least not any father than thinking I could stay with Summer and start my own business.  I needed to get away from Edmonton, so I just latched onto the first idea that popped into my head.  But now…now I’ve done some research and I know I can’t do this.  At least not under these circumstances.  Staying here was just supposed to be temporary.  Until I got my business going and I could afford something else.  That’s never going to happen.  I have to accept that.”

By the time she finished talking the top of her head filled Jonathan’s line of sight.  He had to relax his spine and slouch a bit so he could hear the words she mumbled into her chest.

He liked it better when she yelled at him.  His lips twitched and he had to squelch a grin and yank his thoughts away from where thinking of her yelling at him led.

“So… what?  You’re telling me you’re just going to quit without even giving it a shot first?”

Her head whipped up so fast he nearly didn’t have time to react and pull his chin out of the line of fire.

Eyes blazing, she said, “I am not a quitter!”

Need overcame logic.  He released one of her hands and reached up to stroke away the lone tear already evaporating on her cheek.

He wanted to say something in reply, but for some reason his entire universe suddenly consisted of the patch of skin under his finger.  And just as the known universe expanded, so did his.  Of its own volition, his finger moved.  His eyes followed as it cruised down across her cheek.  His lips twitched with envy as it brushed over her slightly open mouth and caught the tip of her tongue.  His finger lingered, compelled beyond reason to stay…right…there.

“Jonny?  Can I get down now?  Pwease?”

The moment shattered, and they both jerked back.  Thank God for his sister.  What kind of insanity was this?

“Not yet.  I’ll tell you when.”

Thankful Em hadn’t bolted—although she had gone exceedingly pale—he returned to their conversation.  Maybe if he pretended the moment had never happened…?  “Then don’t quit without giving this your best shot.”

He needed to put some distance between them.  Pointing to the chair opposite his desk, he said, “Have a seat, and tell me why you think you can’t do this.”

She hesitated, clearly not wanting too, then moved to comply.

Positioning his chair in such away so that his little chaperone—ah, little sister—was visible just behind Em, he waited.

Waited.

Go to Installment 24

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]]> http://www.read-a-romance.com/contemporary_romance/looking-for-home-23/feed/ 0 http://www.read-a-romance.com/contemporary_romance/looking-for-home-22/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=looking-for-home-22 http://www.read-a-romance.com/contemporary_romance/looking-for-home-22/#comments Mon, 14 Jun 2010 00:36:12 +0000 admin http://www.read-a-romance.com/?p=897 Go to Page 1 or Previous Installment

“Whacha doin’?”

M looked over at the little feet standing beside her head.  Bare toes hugged the lush grass beneath them.

“Hi sweetie.  Come lie beside me.”

“’Kay.”

Alicia plopped herself down on the lawn beside M and struck a similar pose.  A softly rounded chin rested on chubby hands.

M’s heart squeezed.  She could very easily fall in love with this little girl.  Alicia still acted a little hesitant with her, but over the last few days the two of them had begun to develop a relationship.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“What about?”

“Well, for one thing, I think this garden looks kinda gloomy.  All the other gardens here look very happy and bright, but not this one.  I think the gardener forgot about it.”

“Nope.  He didn’t forget.  This was Johnny’s mommy’s garden.  Daddy didn’t wet anyone touch it, ‘cause it made him sad.”

M looked at the overgrown tangle in front of her.  Oh, fabulous.  How did she manage to trip herself up like this?

“Was this an important place for Johnny’s mommy?”

“Uh huh.  Daddy said this was her own specia’ spot.”

M bit chewed on her lip for a moment.  “Do you think maybe we could make this a special spot again?  Make it pretty?  It could be your special spot to remember your daddy.”

Alicia palms cranked her head around, and her big brown eyes considered M.

“Do you have a specia’ spot somewhere?”

M shook her head.

“Do you need one?”

Oh baby, you have no idea.

“Let’s just worry about you right now, ‘kay?  Maybe we can think about a special spot for me some other time.  So, what do you think?  You want to help me make this garden pretty again?”

Alicia looked at the mess in front of them, her feet kicking back and forth as she thought.  “I don’t know how.”

M sat up and crossed her legs under her.  “Hmm.  You’ve got a point there, kiddo.  I don’t know how either.”

Small shoulders slumped.  “Oh.”

“Hey, don’t you worry.  We’re girls.  Girls can figure out how to do anything.  Didn’t you know that?”

“We can?”

“Absolutely.  And don’t you ever let anyone try to tell you different.”

M stood, and reached down to pick Alicia up.  “Come on, sweetie.  First of all, we need to ask Johnny if it’s okay to do some digging out here.  If he says yes, the two of us can go to the library and get some books.  It’s late in the season, but there must be something we can do.  Does that sound like a plan, Stan?”

Alicia giggled as she wrapped her arms and legs around M.  “You’re siwwy.  My name’s not Stan, it’s ‘icia.”

Nearly overcome with emotion, M remained silent for a moment.

For the first time, Alicia was responding to her like a happy, trusting little girl, her reserve dissolved.  M felt like she’d just been handed the greatest gift ever.

These Davenports were a dangerous lot.  They’d both steal her heart if she wasn’t careful.

“Nope.  I think I’m going to call you Stan.”

Alicia was still giggling over that when they reached Jonathan’s office.  “Johnny, Em says she’s gonna call me Stan instead of ‘icia!”

M caught her breath at the power of his gaze as it swept over the two of them standing in the doorway.

His eyes settled on his sister and M relaxed.  A tad.  “Really?  I think that’s a good idea.  After all, you can say “Stan.”

Alicia wriggled away from M and ran to her brother, who swung her up into his arms.  “So, scamp, where were you?  I thought you were right across the hall from me in your playroom.”

She stilled, but didn’t answer.

“Alicia?  Where were you, and why do I see grass between your toes?”

M heard quiet sobs, and watched as Alicia’s shoulders started to tremble.  “Sorry, Jonny.”

“Okay, but that still doesn’t answer my question.  Were you outside?”

She nodded against his shoulder.

“By the pool?”

M’s stomach dropped to her knees, and her heart wasn’t far behind.  The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind that a young child shouldn’t be anywhere near a pool unattended.  How long had she been out there wandering around?

“But Jonny, it’s not my fau’t.  The door wasn’t wocked.”

“Alicia, are you supposed to go out back without me?”

Her sobs cranked up to a wail, and she shook her head.

M couldn’t stand it.  This was her fault.  She knew the windows of Alicia’s playroom looked out over the back of the property.  Not only had she left the little latch on the outside of the door unlocked, her presence back there must have been like an invitation to the child.

“It’s not her fault.  It’s mine.  Please, don’t be mad at her.”

Energy fairly crackled from his green eyes as they lifted and speared her.  “Stay out of this.  I’ll deal with you in a minute.”

What?  He’d deal with her?

“You…”

His eyes glinted, and she bit her tongue.  He was right.  She needed to stay out of this. But still, she couldn’t get past the feeling that this was her fault.

Who was she kidding, anyway?  She was a loser.  She might be able to cook, but other than that, forget it.  What did she know?  Nothing.  She didn’t know how she’d ever be able to start her own business and she certainly didn’t know anything about caring for a child.  Agreeing to help Jonathan with Alicia was wrong.  She should just pack up and leave now—before he dealt with her and asked her to go.

But she wasn’t going to walk away from Alicia.  Not right now.

Jonathan tried to set Alicia down, but she clung to him like a barnacle.  “Come on, Allioop.  Let go.  I want you to go up to your room and think about why it’s wrong to be disobedient.”

He hesitated, cast an uncertain glance at M, then said, “On second thought, you can sit on a chair in the middle of your playroom where I can see you.  No toys.”

As he carried his sister across the hall, M heard her gasp out between sobs, “Wuv you, Jonny.  Forever and awways,” and realized it wasn’t just a statement of fact, it was also a plea for reassurance.  Thanks to Summer, her brother was the only person she had left.

“I love you too, sweetie.  Forever and always.  I promise.  But that doesn’t mean you don’t have to obey me.”

M wrapped her arms around her middle and waited for him to settle his sister on the chair he moved to the doorway of her playroom.

She spoke as soon as he returned.  “I’m sorry.  It was my fault.  I’ll get my things together and go.”

Go to Installment 23

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“Wow, that’s gorgeous.  Whose house is that?”

Jonathan’s pulse leapt up and took off.  He hadn’t heard her return.

Angry at himself—at the world—he snapped, “Nobody’s.”  He rolled the design up, snapped the elastic back, and shoved the lot back in the drawer.

Taking a steadying breath, he took her laptop from her hands.  “Have a seat.  This will just take a few minutes.”

He caught a glance of his monitor as he sat back down, his design mocking him.  Click.  All gone.

Em didn’t heed his suggestion, but started to prowl around his office.  She didn’t touch, or even seem to look at anything, but her movement—her very presence—kept him on edge.

She was going to drive him insane.

Focus.  Just focus.

He dug out his ISP’s manual and looked up the settings.  In less than a minute, he had her laptop logged on to the internet.

“Here you go.  Happy surfing.  When you’re ready to talk, we’ll talk.”  He knew he sounded like a jerk.  Although he didn’t voice the words, the tone of his voice clearly indicated he wanted her gone.

Fortunately, she wasn’t a dummy.  She took the hint, grabbed her laptop, threw a curt, “Thanks,” over her shoulder, and left his office.

Not my type, not my type, not my type.

Maybe if he repeated it enough times it would sink in, and he’d take heed.  Em—damn, he needed to know her name.  Using a diminutive suggested a closeness he shied away from.  He had to kill whatever emotions Em stirred in him.  Hmm.  Embalm!  Ha!  How about a little word association?  Kill, dead, Em, Embalm.  Maybe if used that name in his head, his brain would keep on the right track.  One that headed in the opposite direction of her.

Come on.  Strategize.  That’s what you do.

He needed reinforcements, that’s what he needed.

He reached for the phone.  Before Em…balm blew into his life and stirred up a whirlwind, he’d already decided to move things forward with Deirdre.  He wasn’t quite sure why he’d kept their relationship in a holding pattern.  She was exactly the kind of woman he wanted for a wife.  She… fit.

Well, there was no time like the present.  He knew he wanted to provide a stable home for his sister.  She’d never had a mother, and now she didn’t have a father either.  Maybe between him and Deirdre they could put together a semblance of a normal family.

As far as these thoughts and feelings about Embalm went, they were nothing but a transient aberration.  Maybe he was having some sort of early midlife crisis.  If so, he just needed to get his thinking back in line with his master plan.  He’d made it this far.  He wasn’t about to let his life fall apart now.

Besides, this was likely nothing more than some weird chemical reaction.  He didn’t need to be a shrink to know that she was against this—whatever this was—just as much as he was.  They were both adults, not teenagers ruled by their hormones.

He’d promised to help her and he would. And if Alicia formed an attachment with her he was happy to let Em stay until she got her business off the ground and found herself a place to live.

Until then, he’d behave like her employer.  Nothing more.  He had a great relationship with his executive assistant.  If he could have a pure business relationship with someone as smart and gorgeous as Brenda, surely he could do the same with Em.

Okay, he didn’t live with Brenda, and since he’d been working from home most of their conversations took place on the phone or online, but still.  She was the type of woman he’d be more inclined to be attracted to, but she did nothing for him.  Zip, zilch, nadda.

So what was it about Em?  Why did she stir things long dead to life?

Dead?  Word association.  Embalm, Embalm, Embalm.

He dialled Deirdre’s number.

Chapter Seven

Over the next few days M struggled with an almost overwhelming sense of discouragement.

Why had she thought she could do this?  Sure, she frequently picked up and moved.  And while others may think she did it without forethought, that wasn’t the case.  She always had some idea of where she’d be working.  Occasionally she’d hear something through the grapevine about a job opening somewhere, make a few phone calls, then just do it.

Her resume and references testified to her work ethic and experience, so she rarely had a problem landing the job she wanted.  Being easy to please made finding a place to live no problem either.

Her current situation was proving to be vastly different.  She’d desperately needed to leave Edmonton, so this time she’d acted rashly.  Oh, she had a plan, but she’d jumped into this without any real thought.  Based on her sister’s passing comment about ever needing a place to stay, and a line of thinking that led her to believe if she started her own business she wouldn’t need to look for a job, she’d quickly put Edmonton, and more importantly, Stephen and his family behind her.

Funny how reality could often turn out to be nothing more than a hard smack upside the head.

After doing a few days of research, she wasn’t so sure she could pull this off.  Everything Jonathan said about the restaurant business was backed up by a lot of data.  Even people with money and a sound business plan behind them failed in this industry. A lot of them.

Well, okay, she just wanted to start a small catering business.  People hired caterers all the time.  Enter M, who could cook circles around almost anyone.  A match made in heaven, right?  Wrong.  There were all kinds of details she’d never considered.  Now she had to deal with them marching back and forth in her brain and taunting her.

Being a caterer didn’t just mean she cooked and someone paid her for it.

While she’d been right to some extent—catering could be a lucrative home based business—her contemplation on the matter hadn’t progressed any farther than that.

Now she’d done nothing but contemplate the matter for the last two days.

And it wasn’t only tangible issues she’d have a problem with.  She’d read something about the necessity of interpersonal skills in the catering business.

She snorted.  “Oh, yeah.  No problem.  Let’s get cosy and make nice with the rich.  The very people that looked down their noses at me when I was a kid.  Like I was sub-human or something.”

How could she look and act like a competent business woman while waiting for someone to find fault with her?

And where would she do her cooking?  Most caterers did a lot of their prep work elsewhere.  She didn’t have a kitchen of her own.  And she’d need help of some sort, but how could she pay anyone?  Minimum wage in Ontario was eight dollars an hour.  She couldn’t afford that.  She also didn’t have the kind of vehicle she’d need.

“Hah!  I don’t have a vehicle at all!”

What about all the other things she’d possibly need?  Serving equipment.  Utensils.  Linens.  Tables.  China.  The list went on and on.

Keeping a positive attitude in the face of these realities turned into an almost impossible task.

Go to Installment 22

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Her skin, and everything underneath it, tingled as the scowl morphed into a predatory gleam.  Her brain conjured a picture of a jungle cat stalking a fawn.  No, not a fawn, a doe.  He’d play with it a long time before devouring every tasty morsel.

Man, she had a sick mind.  As far as sexual analogies went, that one was pretty gross.

Jonathan stepped in closer, crowding her back into the counter.  His pheromones called, hers screamed in answer, and if she’d been the swooning, girly type, she would’ve hit the floor at the power of it.

When their bodies were barely brushing, he said, “Who says that had anything to do with your choking?  Maybe it was just an excuse to get closer and see how you’d react.  Guess what?  You reacted.”  His brows kissed his hairline as he smirked.  “I saw.”

Jerk!  Men are such pigs!

He stepped back.  “And you might want to keep something else in mind.  If I remember correctly—and I assure you, I do—Alicia told you yesterday I get to spank you if you yell at me.  Try it again and see what happens.”

With that parting shot, he left the room.

M stumbled over to a kitchen chair, dropped onto it, and pressed an overheated cheek to the cool granite table.

Okay, as far as sexual power went, she wasn’t the only one with it, and she’d been a fool to forget it for even a minute.  Ah, but what an incredibly heady feeling.  Heady and even a little—fun.

However, in reality, it wasn’t quite so amusing when she was the one on the receiving end.  He’d very easily shifted the balance of power back to his favour.

Well, fine.  She didn’t plan on scurrying around like a scared mouse, or hiding in a corner whenever he happened to be around.  She planned to take him up on his offer of help, but she had some research to do first.  Because no way on earth was she going to look like a fool in front of him.  Again.

She got up and poured the rest of her coffee down the sink.

Since it seemed she lived with a walking, talking defibrillator—clear!—the extra jolt of caffeine left in her cup was redundant.  Jonathan had kick-started her body to the point where reserve currents of electricity still pulsated.

Yep.  She could forget about her java fix for the next week or so.

Shoring up her tingling nerves, she headed to his office and tapped on the door.  Hopefully, he’d be in there.  If she had to track him down, or wait any longer, she’d chicken out.

“Come in.”

M pressed her forehead to the door.  Shoulda waited.

Jonathan wrenched his eyes away from his computer monitor and watched her enter.  So much for wishing not to see her for another twenty-four hours or so.

Trying to focus his mind on something—anything—else hadn’t helped.  About every two seconds his thoughts cycled back to the scene in the kitchen, making it impossible for his body to settle back down.

Thank God for being hidden behind his desk.

He cleared his throat.  “Something wrong?”

He waited.  Watched her colour advance and recede at an alarming rate.  Finally, her eyes settled just above his head, and she spoke.

“Um, I’d like to take you up on your offer.”  Colour poured back into her face.  “Ah, yesterday’s offer.  You know…when you said you’d give me a hand with my start-up.  Does the offer still stand?”

A breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding slowly released.  Good to know he wasn’t the only one rattled.  Even better knowing she wasn’t here to tell him she planned to leave.  Although, why he cared so much was a mystery.  One he didn’t plan on trying to solve.

Barely restraining a grin, he said, “It does.”

“Okay.  Thanks.  But I’d like to do a bit more research first.  I have a laptop, and I was wondering what the internet situation is here.  I don’t have an ISP.”

“I talked my father into Wi-Fi a few years ago.  Will that work for you?”

She nodded.  “Yes.  It’s not Wi-Fi integrated, but I do have a PC card in my laptop.”

“Good.  If you want to get it for me, I’ll update your settings so you can connect.”

“Thanks.  I’ll get it now.”

After watching her practically run from his office, Jonathan sat forward and banged his forehead on his desk.

Clearly, he’d lost his mind since meeting Em.  What had he been thinking earlier?  Well, okay, he hadn’t been thinking.  Therein lay the problem.

He lifted his head and looked at the text displayed on his monitor.  He’d Googled “what to do when your child is choking,” and landed on a parenting site which firmly stated, “Don’t ever slap the victim’s back.  If a child is coughing and choking, let them cough.”

Who knew?  He certainly hadn’t, and it was enough to make his blood run cold.  What if he’d done that to Alicia and hurt her?  Sometimes the minefield called parenting scared him silly.

When Em had started to choke, he’d reacted instantly.  He’d wanted to help.  Hah!  He’d done anything but help the situation.  All he’d managed to do was heat himself up to incendiary levels.  And she’d made everything worse—or better, depending on your point of view.  At the feel of her nipples pecking into his chest, and the soft brush of her lips across his throat, he’d nearly detonated.  If he hadn’t been so quick to push her away, she would have felt his reaction as firmly as he’d felt hers.

Not good.  Not good at all.  He wasn’t his father.  He wouldn’t let his heart or his head be ruled by a pretty face.  He’d spent his life—from adolescence anyway—making sure his logical brain stayed in charge.  And for the most part, it hadn’t been that difficult.

Yet in the last few days his other side had been fighting for supremacy.

He sighed.  Okay, he wasn’t being entirely fair.  Over the last few months, creative urges he’d buried long ago began pushing their way to the surface.  He didn’t have to look far to see the proof of that.

Reaching across his desk, Jonathan clicked the mouse and closed the browser window.  His CAD program popped into view, showing the house design he’d been playing around with for the last few months.

Becoming a parent—because for all intents and purposes, that’s what he was now—had changed him somehow.  His carefully planned, purposefully structured, life suddenly felt flat.  Cold.

Pushing away from his desk, he went to one of the long drawers in his credenza and pulled out a role of drafts.  Months ago he’d been compelled to go in search of his drafting tools and sketch a design idea for a house.  Smoothing out the paper, he looked at the bare bones of his idea.  He’d missed this process, and he hated to admit it.  First, the clarity of a picture in his mind, then the freehand flow of pencil across paper, as that thought transformed into something tangible.  Then the next step of computer aided design.  Unfortunately, he’d given this all up before he had the chance to see a finished product.

Go to Installment 21

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Chapter Six

The next morning, M bounded out of bed with her resolve firmly in place.  No more sucking it up.  No more dealing with the lemons life had handed to her.  Her world centred on food, the creation of delectable dishes.  She had a gift in being able to throw together seemingly random ingredients and ending up with a work of art. With her skill she’d produce the best lemonade anyone on the planet would ever taste.

Time for a change, M, my girl.

That meant accepting Jonathan’s offer of help, but she decided the end justified the means.  So what if he thought of her as some pro bono, charity case?  She’d never been a fool—well, for the most part—and she didn’t plan on becoming one at this stage of her life.

If Jonathan Davenport wanted to be her gift horse, fine.  She’d take what he offered, and not ask to see his teeth.

Although…checking out his mouth did sound like a delicious idea.  But looking wouldn’t be enough.  Uh-uh.  No way.  She’d have to touch and taste as well.  Oh, yeah.

Stop it, stop it, stop it!

Thinking about him on a sexual level was courting disaster.  In a big way.  For the time being she lived in his house and despite a rocky start, she planned to make this work. It’s wasn’t like she planned to stay here forever, but she didn’t want to do anything to make him ask her to leave.

She knew from experience people could turn against her because of assumptions.  Even people who claimed to love her.  While in this house she’d tread carefully.  She wouldn’t hand over the gun and the ammunition for someone to use against her.

After showering, she stood in front of her closet.  Her clothes—all her earthly belongings actually—had arrived yesterday.  She’d spent some time before dinner yesterday pressing everything—in a laundry room the size of her last bedroom—and now had a few more options on what to wear.

Which wasn’t necessarily a good thing.  Why this overpowering need to make a good impression?  It so wasn’t like her.

Yet here she stood, hemming and hawing.

She finally decided on a pair of tailored, but figure hugging, white capri pants, then topped them off with a fabulous silk cotton sweater set she’d picked up in Winner’s for a steal.  It’s deep, sapphire blue color looked incredible on her.  Ha!  Who cares about how it looked on her?  She looked incredible in it!

After dressing, M returned to the bathroom.  She inspected her face as she pulled out giant steam rollers, leaving her hair in soft waves—which would magically disappear as soon as she stepped out into Toronto’s soupy August humidity.

“Hmmm.  I know I saw my makeup bag while hunting for the rollers.  Why didn’t I pay more attention when packing them?  Hah!  Because you rarely—if ever—use makeup and rollers, that’s why!”

She looked into the reflection of her eyes and considered what she’d just said to herself.

Was she primping for Jonathan?

“Nope.  This isn’t about Jonathan.  This is about me.  I need to do this for myself.”

M rediscovered her makeup bag, applied the barest hint of blush, eye liner, and mascara, and felt good to go.   She refused to put lipstick on, because that would be pushing it.  Really pushing it.

She stood at the top of the grand staircase, and surveyed her new lodgings while chewing her lip.  It’s only temporary, but I’ll make this a home.  I want to know what a home feels like.

M grabbed a hold of the beautifully carved oak banister and descended.

Mrs. Brickman hadn’t arrived yet—or was skulking in that huge pantry—but thanks to the wonders of modern technology, a pot of coffee stood ready on the counter.

After pouring a cup and making it to her liking, she leaned back against the counter and took a sip.  Closing her eyes, she savoured a surprising sense of well-being.

“Morning.”

At the unexpected sound of his voice she gasped, and some of the coffee flowing down her throat took the wrong route.

Her gasp turned into a coughing fit as coffee hit her windpipe.  Tears welled as she tried to gain control.

Before she regained her breath, she found herself surrounded by Jonathan.  He stepped in front of her, pulled her chest flush to his, then with his right hand, sharply slapped her between the shoulder blades.

And suddenly her breathless state had nothing to do with the coffee dancing in her trachea.

Her nipples realized where they were and sprang up to high-five—uh, high-two—his upper abs.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, her body betrayed her even farther when her olfactory senses caught the scent of his cologne.  A brain cell destroying need to discover its source had her crowding in even closer as her nose nestled into the valley between his shoulder and ear, then traveled eastward to land in the hollow of his throat.  And since her lips were right there with her nose, she skimmed them lightly across his skin.

After all, as a cook, this is what she did.  Tasted things to make sure they were just right.

Mmm.  Oh, yeah.  Just.  Right.

Jonathan froze.

M’s brain reactivated.  Oh, God!  What am I doing?

He grabbed her upper arms, about chest level, and thrust her away.  Okay, he hadn’t missed the little darts digging into his chest, but really, how could he?

Needing to create distance—both physical and mental—M took another giant step away, went on the defensive, and blasted him.

“What’s wrong with you?  Don’t you read?  You’re not supposed to slap a choking person on the back!  Don’t ever do that to your sister.  If it was food she was choking on you could force it down into her lung.”

Hello?  Had he even heard a word she said?

Jonathan’s face wore a glazed expression as he stared at her breasts.  Really, was he about to start drooling?

Barely restraining a desire to clap her hands over them like some puritanical maiden, M tapped her foot—hard—and thought about buying new bras.  The padded kind.  Which she hated.

But since she didn’t know which muscles and nerves to use to control her nipples—she couldn’t wiggle her ears either, so no surprise there—and the sight of them seemed to affect him so much, maybe she needed to reconsider.

Now, there’s a thought!

No, no, no!  Get a grip!

Apparently the toe tapping finally registered and his synapses re-engaged.  Watching as his eyes traveled up to meet hers, she barely suppressed an evil chuckle.  She’d never experienced this kind of raw, sexual power over a man, and she found she enjoyed it.

Given the way his face snapped into a scowl, she hadn’t done a very good job of hiding her thoughts.

Go to Installment 20

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Flipping open her phone, she keyed in his speed dial number.

“Hey, it’s me.  Do you have a minute?”

“Just one.  What’s up?  Is everything okay?”

“I think so.  I just wanted to run something by you.”

“Shoot.”

“Jonathan, the guy I’m living with…ah…I mean…”

“M, I know what you mean.  Go on.”

“Well, he’s a Chartered Accountant.  He’s offered to help me with the business end of starting my business.  Like read my business plan—ha!  As if I have one!  Anyway, he’ll help.  For free.  I don’t really know why, but he will.  Do you think I should take him up on it?”

“Do you think he has an ulterior motive?”

M chewed her lip and squinted at a pouffy cloud overhead.  “No.  I honestly don’t think he’s playing any games.”

“Then go for it.  Those guys don’t come cheap.”

She swirled her feet for a moment before saying anything else.  “Charlie?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you really think I can do this?  Start a business, I mean?”

“Sweetie, I think you can do whatever you put your mind to.  If this is what you really want, you’ll find a way to make it happen.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

“Come on.  We’ve always been straight with each other.  You know that.”

Despite her mood, M laughed.  “Yeah, I do.  Even when you’re pretending you’re not.”

“Har har.”

“Couldn’t resist.  Anyway, thanks, Charlie.  I needed to hear this.  I’m not feeling too confident about myself right now.  Don’t worry.  I’ll explain when you have more time.”

“I’ll see that you do.  Anything else?”

“No.  Charlie?”

“Uh huh?”

“I wish I’d had someone like you around when I was growing up.”

“I love you too, kid.  And I’m around now.  That should be all that matters, dontcha think?”

He certainly had a way of slicing to the heart of a matter.  “I think you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right.  Later, sweetie.”

“Bye, Charlie.”

Charlie was right.  She spent far too much time mired it the—well, mire—of her past.  She needed to break that destructive cycle and focus on her present.  Her future.

She’d only been in Toronto since yesterday, and so far it had been an experience fraught with varying degrees of anguish, but for some reason she was more determined than ever to make this work.

Did Jonathan Davenport have something to do with it?  What alluring quality did he possess, making her forget all reason?

The man who’d answered the door yesterday had been cold, aloof.  And okay, maybe that made sense.  Things were different in the big city.  You opened your door to a stranger with a degree of caution.  And she really couldn’t fault him for his prudence since inviting her into his home.  She tried to imagine letting an unknown have compete freedom to roam in her private space and knew she’d have a hard time with it.

Since then, she’d seen the opposite side of him, and she had to admit to being enthralled.  Against her will, of course.

So, what was the attraction?  Certainly, his relationship with his sister made a huge impression.   Watching a man in his thirties relate to his five year old sister made her heart ache.  In her opinion, the way you treated children said a lot about you.  Oh sure, there were probably loads of people who were monsters on some level, while being kind to kids and animals, but she didn’t believe that to be the case here.

Given what her sister had done to his family, his treatment of her so far amazed M.  He’d been willing to overlook a lot, and ask her into his home.

And the way he treated Mrs Brickman.  He obviously didn’t view her as merely the hired help.  He treated her with respect and a huge dose of affection.  And concern showed in his eyes as the followed her slow movement around the house.  M had seen him kiss the older woman’s cheek, as well as give her loving squeeze.  Those two obviously had more than an employer/employee relationship.

His offer of assistance amazed her.  He’d done so much already.  Oh sure, he would get something out of this deal too.  She knew her being here wasn’t all about him being kind and helpful to a stranger in need.  And despite the family connection, that’s exactly what she was.  A stranger.

As a CA, he stood at the top of the accountant pile.  Surely his services didn’t come cheap.

She’d read somewhere that a lot of professions in Canada faced dwindling numbers.  Since the baby boomer generation had hit retirement age, the number of professionals were falling off at an alarming rate.  That has to cause some fierce competition among the ranks.  If you were good at what you did—and she had no doubt Jonathan Davenport would be at the top of any class—you could likely pick and choose your clients and charge anything you wanted.  You didn’t go around offering your services free of charge.

M clenched her toes and halted the motion of her feet in the water.  The tranquility of the evening, the sound of the waterfall, and the rustling, twilight breeze, had done their job—almost—and moved her thoughts from an angst ridden past, to a quiet thoughtfulness about her present and future.

Thoughts of Jonathan moved her from a place of lazy reflection to somewhere where the soft glide of water on her feet and legs became akin to the sensual caress of a lover’s hands on her flesh.

How—why—did he churn her up this way?  He hadn’t been overt in any way.  Sure, he paid attention to her, watched her as if he was a biologist and she was some foreign organism sitting in his Petri dish.

With nothing more than a searing look from those pale green eyes, he could warm—warm?  Ha, he could start a conflagration—her insides in a way no man ever had.  Even the man she thought she’d marry.  The intensity of it frightened her.  Her life needed to be about remaining in control.  Because who knew the ramifications of losing control?  Where could the destructive influence of the fires he started lead her?

And why did she have to be so negative?  Why naturally assume this emotion could be destructive?  Maybe she had the chance at something good—great even—for once her in life.

Ha.  Not.  Time to get real M.  You’re negative because in some sick way you really are a product of your environment.  This is all about learned behaviour.  Life has taught you that as far as you’re concerned, it only has the negative to offer.  Get over it.

No.  Don’t get over it.  Change it!

Go to Installment 19

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M leaned back against the closed door and looked at her watch.  Only eight fifteen.  Far too early for bed.

Making a snap decision, she ran upstairs to get her cell phone.  Back downstairs she stopped in the kitchen and snagged a can of pop out of the fridge, then headed outside.

Hopefully, the elements would prove to be a balm to her wounded spirit.

Over the years she’d lived in a variety of places, and she’d learned that fire, water, and the soft brush of an evening breeze were better than the pharmaceutical haze any tranquilizer could provide.

While the house boasted multiple fireplaces, including one in her room, no one with an ounce of sanity used a fireplace during a Toronto summer.  And although the backyard—her destination—didn’t offer the hypnotic pounding of oceanic surf, it did have a first rate substitute.

She stepped out the back door into an oasis.

M closed her eyes and let the sound of water spilling over rock and air whispering through leaves, console her.

Opening her eyes again, M looked at the scene before her.  Just as her bedroom was light years away from her childhood sleeping conditions, this bore no resemblance to the dry, scrubby ground her and Summer had to play in as children.

She stood on a huge flagstone patio leading to an irregular shaped pool.  Attached to one end of the pool, a large round hot tub in matching flagstone gurgled.  At the other, a waterfall rushed over a mountain of hewn stone, about four feet high.  The patio eventually gave way to lush gardens, what seemed to acres of the greenest grass imaginable, then a tennis court.

M made a beeline to the two person poolside hammock standing between the gardens and the pool itself.  Settling herself in, she drew a shaky sigh.

How did she come to grips with the events of the last day and a half?  The indictments against her family just kept piling up, and with every new crime she learned of, she felt as if she were losing personal ground.  As if she was being buried by the weight of their sins.

Could she keep her promise to Alicia?  To Jonathan?  She vehemently denied being drawn with the same brush Summer had been painted with, but what if she was wrong?  She’d never spent much time around youngsters, so she didn’t have any experience to rely on.  Maybe she’d lose her patience one day, then haul off and start whaling on Alicia.

No.  You’re not capable of that.  And you know it.

There’d been times in her life when she’d truly wanted to lash out at someone—and could have justified it before anyone—but she’d never done it, no matter what the provocation.

Her parents had often used either her or Summer as their personal punching bags.  M chose to believe it hadn’t been premeditated.  The excuses she offered up in her parent’s behalf were fatigue, inebriation, high on drugs.  Any of those were far more acceptable to her than believing her parents had deliberately—with soundness of mind—done what they had.

She opened her can of pop before wriggling into a more comfortable position.  With her foot, she set the hammock in motion, enjoying the whoosh of air on her cheeks as the seat moved forward.

Maybe she was wrong in thinking she wasn’t capable of hitting a child, or any form of violence.  She knew there are all kinds of things we, as human beings, are capable of.  The difference is most people, through the strength of their convictions and self control, would never allow themselves to go to those extremes.

M knew all about convictions and self control.  The intensity of her belief in herself, the knowledge that with hard work and perseverance, she could be a better person, had led her to where she stood today.

It wasn’t like she’d just learned Summer had chosen a different path.  That had been evident when they were still kids.  But there were different paths, and then there were aberrant choices.

That’s what it was all about, right?  Choices?  She prayed to God every day asking for clarification on the issue.  And asking for the power to stay true to her choice.  Because the alternative wasn’t acceptable.  The belief her choices had been made for her based on genetics or environment.

M heaved herself out of the hammock, kicked off her shoes, and sat her can of pop on the ground.  She needed to feel the water.  Sitting down again on the pool deck, she let her legs dangle below the surface and laid back.

She looked at the sun, now a huge fiery ball sitting on the western horizon, about to fall behind it.  The softness of twilight would soon envelope her, and she planned to enjoy it.  This constant state of angst, her continual over-analyzing of whether or not she could raise above her beginnings, wore her down.  But she couldn’t stop.  She was afraid to.  Maybe it was the fact that she beat herself up over it that kept her on the straight and narrow.

Swishing her feet back and forth, enjoying the soothing caress of the water, she forced her thoughts ahead instead of behind.

Should she accept Jonathan’s offer of help?  She’d probably be a fool not to.   She hated the thought of admitting to him she didn’t have a full fledged plan, but that was part of her nature.  For all she could be very task oriented in some aspects of her life, in other’s she flew by the seat of her pants.  Spontaneity, and the ability to pick up and leave whenever she desired, kept her sane.  At least that’s what she tried to convince herself.  She was afraid it had more to do with running away, and less to do with spontaneity.  More to do with a constant search for what she’d never had, than the ability to pick and leave on nothing more than a whim and a prayer.

Time to talk to Charlie.  While he couldn’t always be counted on to conduct himself in the most reasonable manner, he’d often been able to talk some common sense into her.

Go to Installment 18

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Later that evening M tapped on the door to Jonathan’s office.  For the last forty minutes she’d sat in the kitchen trying to cloak herself with a blanket of calm.

It proved to be a useless exercise.

Bottom line?  She had to tell Jonathan what she’d learned today.  The whole situation made her ill for so many reasons, but this was the right thing to do.

“Come in.”

She bit her lip, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

M gave herself a bit more time by letting her eyes sweep the room before landing on him.  She didn’t know a lot about interior design, but this room fit him somehow.

Most of the house screamed rich old man, old money.  The office, with its clean lines and bold strokes of colour felt more young urban professional than rich old man.

M’s eyes clung to him as he stood.  Why did he affect her this way?  Not long ago she swore she’d never let another man have any sort of power over her emotions.  Especially a man like him.  Someone who made her feel like a peon standing before a prince.  She didn’t need her lowly stance crammed down her throat every time she looked at someone.

Yet despite her intentions, with just a look, he made her smoulder.  Fires long doused danced to life, and she felt the tickle and lick of their flames.

She pressed a hand against her belly.  Control.  She needed control. But the fact that she knew—knew—he felt the heat too, made control elusive.

Well, what she needed to tell him would extinguish the fire, and likely lower her in his estimation.

“Do you have a minute?”

“Yes.  Is everything okay?”

She gulped.  “Um…no.”

He settled back in his chair and waved to her to take a seat.  He didn’t say anything, just arched a brow, and waited.

M laced her fingers together in her lap and looked at them.  ‘There’s something I need to tell you.  Today…this afternoon…”

She looked up when she heard his chair squeak.  He’d leaned toward her.  “Yes?  Today?  What happened today that you need to tell me about?”

“Alicia dropped her ice cream cone on my foot.”

He dropped back in his chair, an expression of disbelief crossing his face.  “And you’re making this big of a deal about it?  Lady, do us both a favour and pack your bags now.  She’s a kid.  Stuff happens.  If you can’t deal with that you shouldn’t have agreed to this.”

Don’t cry.  Don’t cry.  Just tell him.  She gripped her fingers together so tightly the colour leached out of them.  “She asked me if I was going to hit her.  She thought I would hit her for making a mistake.  And I knew.  I had to ask her, but I already knew.  Summer used to hit her.”

For an instant his face went blank, pale.  Then his eyes blazed, and he morphed into the beast she’d likened him to yesterday.

He jumped up and came around the desk to her.  “What? That’s impossible.  She would have told us.”

“I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.  Summer told her she’d hurt your father if Alicia ever told either of you.”

“She’d hurt Dad?  That’s crazy.”

“No.  It makes sense.  I’ve watched your sister.  She loves you, and she’d try to protect you.  She let Summer hit her to protect you and your father.”

He prowled around the room, fury rolling off him in waves.  “My God…  I knew she was trash.  I tried to warn my father, but he couldn’t see past her face, and the fake way she smiled at him.  But hey, why should I be surprised?  She was just one more in a long line of low women that played my father for the sucker he was.”

Tears ran unchecked now.  And her nose.  She’d kill for a Kleenex.  “I’m sorry.”

He whirled on her.  “Would you stop it!  Stop apologizing.  What happened between you and Alicia?”

“I didn’t hit her!”

He sat down at his desk, lowered his head into his hands, and gripped his hair with his fists.  “What did you say to her?  She seemed okay.  A little quiet, but she’s been quiet since she met… oh God.  That’s why she’s been acting so strange around you.”

M gave in and wiped her nose on her wrist.  Eewww.   “I told her to tell you if anyone ever hit her, or scared her.  Even if it’s me.  She’s supposed to run right to you, no matter what anyone says.  I promised her I would never hit her.”

She looked at him and repeated.  “I would never hit her.”

Jonathan just stared at her.

She’d known this deal had to be too good to be true.  Things just never came this easily to her.  “I’ll leave.  I understand.  Would you mind…”  Her breath hitched, and she swiped a hand across her cheeks.  “Would you mind if I spent the night and left in the morning?”

He opened a drawer and rooted around, then stood with a box of tissues in his hand and came around the desk.

“Here.”

She grabbed one and wiped her eyes.  Grabbed a second and honked her nose.  What did she care?  At this point she was way beyond worrying about her dignity.

He reached behind him, grabbed a waste basket, and silently handed it to her.

He confused her.  Why be nice?  “Thanks.”

“Why do you want to leave?”

“I… I don’t want to leave!  But I…you…Summer…”

“You’re not Summer, and I never said you were.  I never thought you were.  Were you being truthful when you said you wouldn’t hit Alicia?”

“Yes!  It’s wrong!  My parents…”  She stopped and looked away from him.  “I made a promise to myself a long time ago.  To never hit a child.  I repeated that promise to your sister today.  I won’t do it!”

He stared at her for so long she began to fidget.  “Don’t you believe me?”

“You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe you.”

“Oh. Then…you’ll let me stay?”

He inclined his head, but his eyes never left her face.

Oh, this is just so unfair. He sat propped on the side of his desk with ankles crossed, and hands in his pockets.  Although the clench of his jaw and the fire still blazing in his eyes belied his calm pose, he looked supremely in control of his emotions.

And her?  Her emotions were still spinning in the vortex initiated yesterday when she arrived at his door.  She’d cried more in the last day than she had in years.

Okay, that wasn’t true.  She’d done her share of crying a few months ago, but that had nothing to do with her family.  At least not directly.

“I’m not like them.”  Which one of us am I trying to convince?

“You’re not like who?”

“My family.”

He didn’t say anything, just kept up with the Superman, x-ray vision thing.  What was with the people in this house?  Every single one of them had looked at her with that spooky ‘I can read your mind,’ intensity.

“Did you talk to your parents this morning?”

M sucked in a breath and drew herself up.  “I talked to my mother.”

He watched her for a moment.  “And how did it go?  She must’ve been upset.”

A mantle of ice descended on her, freezing out all emotion.  “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”

She pushed herself up out of the chair.  “Anyway, I just thought I should tell you about what Summer did.  I think Alicia’s okay.  She seems like such a well adjusted little girl, considering what she’s been through, but maybe you should talk to her about it, and decide whether or not she needs any help with it.”

Jonathan’s jaw clenched.  “Oh, you can be sure I’ll be talking to her.  It’s a good thing Summer is dead, because she wouldn’t have liked dealing with me.  I’d have forgotten all my mother’s lessons on how to treat ladies.  Not that Summer was a lady by any stretch of the imagination.”

M cringed.  Stop taking everything he says about her so personally.  He’s talking about Summer, not you!

Jonathan reached out and grasped her bare shoulder.  “I’m sorry.  That was thoughtless.  All of it.”

I wonder if this is what a hot flash feels like.

Ice gave way to blistering heat.  Her breathing stilled, her heart took wings, and her tummy clenched.  And as if that wasn’t bad enough, her knee joints gave, and she nearly swayed toward him.

Please God, let me be reacting to some sort of bug I’ve picked up, not his touch.

But she couldn’t fool herself.  As his thumb began a slow, circuitous movement on her collarbone, she accepted—no, she didn’t accept, she acknowledged—the impact he had on her.  With nothing more than a simple touch he underscored the fact that sex influenced more than the body, because he tugged on sexual strings in her mind, her heart.

No, no, no!  This is richy rich.  Your boss.  Remember that!

She pulled away.  “It’s okay.  Um…I’ll go now.  Goodnight.”

As her fingers grasped the doorknob, he spoke again.  “Em…Ember?”

A hysterical laugh bubbled beneath the surface.  Ember!  What a perfect choice.  Because sure as death and taxes, the fire may have banked when I pulled away from him, but the remains still smoulder.

She shook her head but didn’t look back at him.

He sighed.  “Would you please tell me your name?”

Another shake of her head.  He already had enough to mock her about.  Why give him more ammunition?

“I’m sorry about this afternoon.  I know I hurt you somehow when I asked about the business you’re starting, but I didn’t mean to.  I did mean what I said about helping you.  Helping with start ups is part of what I do.  If you don’t have a business plan, I can assist with its preparation.  If you’ve already got one, I’d be happy to look over it for you.  No charge.”

Without releasing the doorknob, she turned back to look at him.  “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you offering to help?  You don’t know me, and we’re not friends, so what gives?”

He didn’t physically take a step back, but he somehow withdrew.  His eyes bore into hers for a moment before dropping to the floor.  He shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants, then looked back at her.  “I don’t know.”

And she could tell it bugged the hell out of him.

Something was going on between the two of them.  She knew it, and she knew he knew it.  Neither of them wanted it, neither of them liked it.  But it was there.

So much for believing sexual chemistry is nothing but a bunch of hocus pocus.  Here I am.  Your new poster child.

Oh, she’d been attracted to men before.  On all sorts of levels.  But she’d never—ever—felt this pull.  She’d never felt anything so complex, so amazing, so mysterious.

Her cognitive self shied away from him.  Urged her to remember he had the power to hurt her.  Her intuitive self, independent of all reasoning, whispered something else in her ear.  A siren’s call, telling her he’d provide a safe harbour, maybe even the home she’d looked for all these years.

Fortunately, her cognitive self stepped up and kicked little Miss Intuition’s butt.

“I don’t know either.  But thanks for the offer.”

This time he didn’t stop her from leaving the room.

Go to Installment 17

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Jonathan sat on the bench watching them walk toward him.

They still held hands and that relieved him.  Alicia had been strangely quiet around Em, something unnatural for his expressive little sister.

Neither of them were speaking, but they seemed—comfortable with each other.

As for him?  Em made him uncomfortable.  She made him downright squirrelly.

This day had quickly turned into a farce, with him losing his grip on his mind.  Watching her at the railing of the ferry had undone him in ways that scared him.  He could actually feel the tethers he kept on his control slipping.

She’d looked so alive with her head flung back and her golden blond hair lifting on the breeze.  So content in the moment.

What was it about her that called to him on levels he tried to keep buried?  She didn’t come close to fitting the profile of the stylish, poised woman he wanted at his side.

The woman walking toward him had dead straight hair with absolutely no style.  As far as he could tell, her makeup consisted of a hint of lip gloss and maybe a little liner around her eyes.  No primping, no pouffing.  And her clothes.  She didn’t look like the bag lady wannabe of yesterday, but her simple shorts and T-shirt screamed bargain brand.  Not the he had a problem with her simple tastes; it was just such a shocking difference to what he considered the norm.

He thought of Deirdre, a friend and client.  They’d known each other for years, but over the last few months had spent a lot of time together.  He was at the point of suggesting a change in their relationship.  Something more serious.  With a view to something more permanent.

He’d given the matter much consideration and felt that they were a good match.  Not because of some flighty, ephemeral feeling.  His father had approached relationships and look where it landed him.  No, Jonathan had made his choice based on logic and common sense.   Deirdre being beautiful and well dressed was simply a bonus.

But she’d never started a flash fire in him with just a look.

He’d never looked into her eyes and had all of his senses sharpen to the point of near pain.

He’d never seen a wounded look shadow those eyes and want to shift time and space so he could take it away.

He knew he’d hurt her.  But she had a way of making him forget himself, and he’d been about to reveal things he shared with no one. Fortunately, his brain had started functioning again and he’d turned the conversation back around to her and her venture.  Except he’d got carried away and started firing questions at her.  And when he’d realized she obviously didn’t have any kind of real plan in place, that she’s just moved across the country on a whim, he’d been appalled.

It was so contrary to what he believed in.  What he tried hard to live by.

Had he made a mistake in bringing her into their lives?  He tried hard to teach Alicia to lead with her head, not her heart.  He’d always tried to provide her with a counterpoint to their father’s way of making decisions.

What kind of influence would Em be on his little sister?  On him?

Chapter Five

They trucked into the house just before six, and Estelle came out to great them.

“So, little Miss, did you get to ride the ponies?”

“Yeah! Two times!”

“Excellent.  Where’s my hug?”

M watched as Estelle carefully bent down to hug Alicia.  As she slowly returned to an upright position, she looked at Jonathan and said, “Have you eaten?  I know you told me not to worry about dinner, but I could still whip something up for everyone.”

Jonathan walked over and pressed a kiss to her forehead.  “Thanks, but you didn’t have to wait around.  Why don’t you go on home?  We can order in pizza, or maybe Chinese.”

“But…”

“No buts.  You’ve known me my entire life, so you’re well aware I can look after myself.  I want you to go home and put your feet up.  Relax.  Promise?”

Estelle pretended to grumble at him, but the mischief in her eyes belied her tone.

A few minutes later, she had her things together and Jonathan showed her out the door.  Once he’d closed it behind her, he leaned back against it, a wrinkle marring normally smooth forehead.

As he heaved a sigh and pushed himself away from the door, M said, “You’re worried about her.”

He pushed a hand through his hair.  “Yeah.  I have extra help that comes in a few times during the week to give her a hand with the heavier work, but she won’t let me do anything else for her.  She says she can handle it.”

“She’s proud.”

“Yeah, well, she’s also like a parent.  The only one I have left.  Anyway, let’s figure out what we’re going to eat.”

Go to Installment 16

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Canadian buyers will be charged 5% GST

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Thanks to Nan Donahue for sharing one of her manuscripts.