“And now that you do, you’ll back off?” Jenna repeated hopefully.
“Even now that I do, it’s too late. The moneymen, the land people, the contractors—everyone connected with the project—has agreed that your property is ideal on all counts. That takes it out of my hands. I’m sorry.”
He might have been a very convincing liar, but Jenna had the sense that he genuinely meant that apology.
“And even if I went to my father at this point and said let’s let it be,” he continued after a pause, “I’d get shot down. The first thing my old man would say is that there’s no guarantee that if the property goes to auction, it’ll stay a farm. Potentially the Monarchs would just lose the best site for their training center to some housing developer or something.”
Jenna knew that was a possibility, too. But still, she was trying to hang on to what hope she could. For her father’s sake.
“I guess it just isn’t possible for us to come down on the same side of this,” she concluded. “And I think you might be trying to find my weak spot or something—”
“I’m not,” he protested.
But before either of them could say more on the subject, Chase appeared at the entrance of the showcase. “There you are, Ian,” he said. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Chase paused to say hello to Jenna, to tell her how nice she looked and tease her that it was nothing like a new mom was supposed to look.
After they’d joked back and forth for a few minutes, Chase’s gaze went to Ian again. “I wanted to introduce you around—there are a lot of people who want to meet you.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Jenna said pushing away from the desk and seizing the opening to put an end to being alone with Ian. “I need to check on Abby and make sure she isn’t giving the sitters a hard time, so I’ll leave you two to that.”
And with those words, she took her wine and left Ian to his brother.
Jenna had hoped that she’d gotten her fill of Ian Kincaid during their brief first encounter at the grand opening. And certainly after checking on Abby and then rejoining the party, she tried to enjoy it without giving him another thought.
But trying was one thing.
Succeeding was something else…
Again she’d liked talking to him—even talking about something that they were at odds over. And not giving him another thought was impossible. The best she accomplished as the evening wore on was to stay away from him, and since he didn’t approach her, that wasn’t difficult to do.
But he was still there, for her to catch sight of repeatedly, for her to hear addressing a group behind her, for her to even get a chance to stare at when he made a toast to Chase, Logan and Hadley to congratulate them on the opening of the Northbridge branch of Mackey and McKendrick Furniture Designs and wish them continued success.
Finally conceding that she couldn’t seem to stop being ultra-aware of the man at every turn, Jenna decided it was time to go home to get away from the phenomenon.
So, she found Meg, assured her that the party had been terrific and said good-night.
Inside the main house, the older kids were still playing but the babies—Abby included—were sound asleep.
The slumbering infant wasn’t disturbed in the slightest by Jenna putting on her coat and then buckling her into the baby carrier that also acted as a car seat.
It was when Jenna headed for the front door to leave that Ian suddenly showed up, seemingly from out of nowhere, to open that door for her.
“Let me help you,” was all he said while they were within the babysitters’ earshot, taking the carrier from her as they headed outside.
But once Jenna had strapped Abby’s car seat in and closed the rear door of her SUV, she turned to find Ian with one arm lying across the rooftop and looking intently at her.
“I couldn’t let you leave without making a confession….”
“I understand it’s good for the soul—what do you need to confess?”
“The reason I had the Realtor bring me out to your house on Saturday was because I knew you were going to be there, and I wanted to finally meet you. I wanted to get the ball rolling to try to figure out what was keeping you from selling the farm to us, to see if I could find an opening and something I could use to convince you that you should.”
“It was all about business,” Jenna summed up, fighting how demoralizing it was to hear that.
“I’ll admit that that’s been in the back of my mind at the start of every time we’ve met up, but somehow…” He shook his head, he shrugged. “Somehow I completely lose sight of that about two minutes in, because I just like talking to you.”
He said that sincerely, but it was the fact that it seemed to confuse him that was more of a selling point.
“Okay,” she allowed, feeling a bit less deflated.
“And tonight, it was really nice of you to keep me company when I needed it. I honestly wasn’t angling for anything. I don’t want you to go away believing that you did a good deed, and I took advantage of you for it, because we did end up talking about the farm. If anything, finding out what’s behind you not selling to us just shot the hell out of my wanting your place.”
Jenna nodded her head in response.
“I also want you to know that I understand that—when it comes to the farm—you’re just trying to do what your father wanted. It’s a position I’m in a lot between work and the family, so I can appreciate it.” He gave her a lopsided smile, “But when it comes to your farm, at this point, I really am stuck. Sympathetic, but stuck. And yet here we are, in this small town—”
“And we’re going to run into each other,” Jenna supplied, assuming where he was going with this.
“We are. And I don’t want to be enemies with someone I like talking to. I don’t want us to have to dodge each other. I don’t want you to hate that I’m at the same restaurant or at any of the preliminary things going on for Shannon and Dag’s wedding or the wedding itself on Sunday.”
So there were going to be a lot of places they encountered each other. She hadn’t been thinking beyond tonight.
“I’d really like to feel free to sit and have a glass of wine and talk to you the way we did earlier,” he said. “I don’t want us to be uncomfortable around each other. So, what if we just set this aside—is there any chance of that? Can we agree that we both know where the other is coming from, what we have to do and why, but sort of remove ourselves from it? Do you think that’s possible?”
“As in—you’ve made your offer on the farm, I’ve refused it—end of subject. You will likely be bidding on it at the auction, and if I don’t have another buyer by then, you’ll probably get it for your training center, and there’s nothing I can do about it—end of subject. So, can we just let the cards fall where they may and separate ourselves from it?”
“I know it’s a lot and that, in your position, I’m asking you to be the much bigger person about it, but yeah, could you do that?”
Beyond standing her ground and refusing to sell to anyone who would not agree to maintain the farm, there genuinely wasn’t much she could do about the ultimate outcome, and she had already had to accept that. And while she didn’t like that Ian was playing a role in it, as she gazed up into that face the porch light was glazing in gold, that face that looked so eager for her to grant him this request, she just didn’t have the inclination to deny it.
Besides, she’d learned tonight that worrying about where he was every minute, in order to make sure she stayed away from him, only added to her heightened awareness of him and compounded the problem.
And okay, yes, although she shouldn’t, she liked the idea of sitting and talking with him, having another glass of wine with him. If the occasion arose…
“I get to be the ‘bigger person’?” she said, as if that were the clincher.
He smiled a hundred-watt smile. “And I’ll say it to anyone who asks.”
“Okay, then. The farm issue goes in one box, you and
I coexisting here goes in another box.”
His smile went to a thousand watts. “You’re just my brother’s partner’s wife’s best friend, and I’m just—”
“My best friend’s husband’s partner’s brother,” Jenna played along with the ridiculousness of those lengthy labels.
“And we can have wine and talk and maybe even dance at the wedding?”
“If not before—there is the Spring Fling Dance on Friday night,” Jenna joked.
“Oh, yeah, I think I heard something about that….” Ian said, as if she’d just sparked his interest in the event. “But no matter what, we’re okay—you and I?”
It seemed to mean so much to him that it made Jenna grin, too. “We’re okay. You and I,” she confirmed.
“Good,” he said, as if it were a relief.
Then he slid that arm off the rooftop and took hold of her shoulder to slightly squeeze it.
Once again that simple touch caused more things to erupt in her than it should have, and as she gazed up into that handsome face, what skipped through her mind were thoughts of him kissing her.
Which, of course, she would never let happen.
It was one thing to agree that they could be civil—friendly, even. But there was nothing in there about kissing!
And yet…
There was a quiet little part of her that couldn’t stop thinking about it….
So she moved to open the driver’s side door. And Ian took his hand away—leaving her sorrier to lose his touch than was appropriate or called for.
“I should go before Abby gets cold,” she said then.
“Right,” Ian Kincaid agreed, completely opening her door and holding it for her while she got behind the wheel, put the keys in the ignition and started the engine.
They said good-night as he closed the door and stepped to a clear spot so she could maneuver her SUV from the line of other cars parked in the drive.
And the entire way back to her house, Jenna made sure to remind herself that Ian had admitted to exactly what she’d suspected of him—that what took precedence with him was pleasing his father. And not merely the way she was trying to grant her own father’s dying wish but in his everyday dealings.
The big red warning flare…
And she needed to heed it.
Which she had every intention of doing.
Even if she was having trouble forgetting what he’d looked like standing beside her SUV at the moment that kissing had crossed her mind.
And maybe wishing just a little that he might actually have given it a try….
Chapter Four
It was not every day that Jenna looked up from her kitchen sink to peer through the window and discover a sports celebrity in her backyard.
But as Tuesday afternoon turned into Tuesday evening, that’s what happened.
She’d finished her shift at the hospital, picked up Abby from Meg’s, come home and changed into her most comfortable jeans and a comfy, white, crew-necked T-shirt. Then she’d brushed out her hair and caught it in a ponytail at her crown and decided to fix a pan of lasagna for dinner.
With the lasagna in the oven and Abby playing with pots and pans that the infant had dragged out of a cupboard, Jenna was doing the dishes she’d used to put the lasagna together. And lo and behold, football great, Morgan Kincaid, appeared from around the corner of her house.
With Ian not far behind him.
Finished with rinsing her dishes, Jenna turned off the water. Morgan Kincaid was looking steadfastly in the opposite direction, but Ian caught sight of Jenna through the kitchen window and came up to it.
Since the weather was still setting record-high temperatures for March, and the heat from the oven had added additional warmth to the kitchen, the window was open for him to say through the screen, “Hi. I rang the doorbell, but there was no answer.”
“I must have been running the garbage disposal—I didn’t hear it,” Jenna said, in lieu of a greeting.
“And the voicemail I left—did you get that?”
“I haven’t taken my phone out of my purse since I got home. That would make it somewhere near the front door. I’ve been upstairs and in here—I didn’t know I had a voicemail.”
“My father was flying home and decided to make a quick—and unannounced—stop here. He’s only seen the place in pictures and decided on the spur of the moment that he should take a look at the real thing. I couldn’t get hold of the Realtor, so I called to get your permission to bring him over, but when there was no answer I just left the message. I hope you don’t mind, but I brought him, anyway. If it’s a problem, we’ll leave….”
Jenna had two thoughts about what Ian had just said—first of all, despite the fact that she hadn’t agreed to a showing of the farm right now, Ian’s father was getting his way. Secondly, she had the impression that if she said their visit was a problem for her, Ian would make sure it ended.
It was tempting to test that impression and see for herself if Ian could wield that kind of power over his father, but it seemed slightly petty, too.
And because she was also in the throes of a little, secret excitement at seeing Ian, she said, “It’s no big deal. You can show him around.”
“He doesn’t want to see inside the house, if that helps. He just wants the lay of the land.”
Ian hadn’t noticed that his father had just joined him at the window.
“Hello,” Morgan Kincaid said over his son’s shoulder.
Glancing back at him, Ian said, “Dad, this is Jenna Bowen, the owner of the place. Jenna, this is my father, Morgan Kincaid.”
It wasn’t as if Jenna wouldn’t have recognized the still athletically built older man whose face had been in the news, on magazine covers and in local and national newspapers for decades. Morgan Kincaid had made nothing if not a splash. He’d first come into the limelight in college football. Then in professional football as one of the NFL’s best—ever players with numerous Most Valuable Player Awards, quarterbacking teams to three Super Bowl victories and ending up in the Pro Football Hall Of Fame.
When he’d retired from the game, he’d turned his sports fame and fortune into the Kincaid Corporation which was a conglomerate of retail centers, rental and hotel properties, car dealerships, restaurants and, now, the Montana Monarchs NFL expansion team.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Kincaid,” Jenna said simply.
“Please, call me Morgan,” the silver-haired man responded. “My son has told me about your situation here and why your farm is up for sale—his conscience is eating at him for having done such a good job convincing us that your place is the right spot for the training center. But he has convinced us, so I hope you’ll consider our offer to buy before the auction.”
“Sorry,” Jenna said with a stubborn shake of her head.
Morgan Kincaid nodded, but she could tell by his implacable expression that her refusal changed nothing for him. He would buy her out or he would take the farm at the auction, but either way he would have what he wanted—that was what his attitude projected.
However, he did say, “Would you like us to leave?”
Jenna tossed a glance to Ian and said, “We’ve come to an understanding about things, so no. Do what you need to do.”
“I appreciate that,” Morgan Kincaid said. Then he added a perfunctory, “Nice to meet you,” and turned his back to her to resume looking out at the rest of the property.
“Thanks,” Ian said to Jenna. Then, with a smile that was just for her, he leaned nearer to the screen to add, “I don’t know what you’re cooking in there but put me on the reservation list, will you?”
“Sure,” she said, believing he was joking and so joking in return.
He winked at her. A charming, wicked wink that made her smile, too, and seemed to enlist her in some sort of conspiracy—although she had no idea what they were conspiring to do.
Then he turned around and began to describe for his father the best positioning for the fields, the administration buil
ding, the conditioning center and the rest of the facility he had planned.
Jenna considered closing the window so she couldn’t hear what was being said as she returned to her cleanup. But it was still her house, and the kitchen was still overly warm, which was the reason she’d opened the window in the first place. So, she opted not to.
While she didn’t particularly want to know about the training center, as she loaded the dishwasher, she found herself inordinately interested in what passed between the two men and in the dynamics of their relationship.
Ian outlined what was clearly a project he knew inside and out and answered every question his father asked, but there was no obsequiousness in the way he reacted to Morgan Kincaid. There was no fawning, no groveling, no kowtowing. There was nothing in Ian’s actions that reminded her of her ex-husband with his mother—which was what she’d expected to see. There wasn’t even the kind of deference to a boss that someone else who worked for the mighty Morgan Kincaid might have shown.
Instead, Ian spoke to his father as if they were equals, and it occurred to Jenna that maybe that was an advantage of being the boss’s son.
But he admitted himself that he goes to extremes to please his father, and they are here even though he didn’t get my permission first, because that’s what his father wanted, she reminded herself.
“I can take you over to look at the other property, too,” she heard Ian say then. “I know the cost is higher, and there’s more leveling that would need to be done, but I have some ideas—”
“No, I think your instincts were right from the start—this is the place,” Morgan Kincaid decreed, obviously having the final say.
Jenna appreciated that Ian had given it a try, though. Then the elder Kincaid switched gears, and Jenna’s interest was piqued all over again. “Have you talked to Chelsea?”
Chelsea?
“Two nights ago,” Ian said.
“Did you call her or did she call you?”
“She called me.”
“Good, good. Any chance she’ll come back early?”
Big Sky Bride, Be Mine! Page 5
