October 29, 2009 by admin
Filed under Contemporary Romance, Looking for Home, Nan Donahue
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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.”
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Thanks to Nan Donahue for sharing one of her manuscripts.
