“Sure, anytime.”
“And I’m sure Mom would come with me,” she added, her expression hopeful. “She really likes it here.”
“She’s welcome, too,” Clay assured her, wondering just how much Molly had picked up of the attraction between him and her mother.
When Jordan descended the stairs, she was carrying her overnight bag.
“There you are,” she said, catching sight of her daughter. “Are you ready to go?”
“Mom, Clay said I could ride back in his car. Is that okay?”
Jordan glanced at him. “We don’t want you to have to hurry back on our account.”
“It’s no problem, I’m ready to go anytime.” Clay found her manner strangely formal. In fact, her unease this morning was beginning to bother him. The more he opened his heart to her, it seemed, the more he was left to guess what Jordan was thinking. Even last night on the beach, when there had been no question of her desire for him, she’d left him guessing about her feelings. After he’d declared his love to her, she’d made no such declaration in return. But physical attraction and affection, he knew, didn’t always go hand in hand.
“All right, I guess you can ride with Clay, but just to the ferry,” Jordan agreed at last. “As long as he doesn’t go too fast.”
“Was I going too fast yesterday?” he inquired mildly, thinking of their drive to the estate sale—but from Jordan’s startled expression he guessed she was remembering something different.
“No, not at all. You were excellent. I mean, you’re an excellent driver,” she said briskly, her cheeks glowing a deep red.
Molly bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet, oblivious to the nuances of the exchange. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll get my bag.”
As the ten-year-old scurried off, Jordan and Clay remained facing each other in silence for a long moment. Clay waited for her to say something more, but she simply looked at him, smiling stiffly, her luminous green eyes betrayed nothing.
“Let me take this to the car for you,” he said finally, reaching for her bag.
“Thanks, I can manage.”
“Jordan, listen, I—”
“Got my stuff,” chimed Molly, swinging her backpack on one shoulder as she grasped her mother’s hand. “Come on, everyone’s outside already. I want to say goodbye before we go.”
Without a second glance at him, Jordan let Molly pull her past Clay and out the door into the front yard, as though she couldn’t get away from him quickly enough. But now, he thought ruefully, she’d be stuck with him at least until they got to the ferry.
Sheryl peeked in the door, signaling to him. “Come on, Clay, we’re leaving in a few minutes.” Her brow creased as she studied him, standing in the dining room alone with his hands thrust in his pockets. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’ll be out in a minute.”
Sheryl took a step toward him. “I know it’s none of my business, but did something happen between you and Jordan last night? She hardly looked at you this morning. She was practically searching for a hole to crawl into.”
“Not now, Sheryl,” Clay muttered. How he’d hate for his sister to be right. She’d maintained from the start that inviting Jordan back into his life would be a grave mistake. And yet, it was because of Sheryl’s misguided assumption about Molly’s paternity that he’d come into contact with Jordan again in the first place.
“Clearly you’re falling for her again, it’s written all over your face,” Sheryl said sympathetically.
“Do we have to talk about this?” he barked back, turning away from her.
“Okay, sorry. I love you, Clay, that’s all. I hate seeing you hurt.” She squeezed his arm briefly before heading back outside, leaving him alone.
Clay blew out a long breath, feeling his jaw tighten. The words “I love you” came so much more easily to his sister than they did to Jordan, at least in regard to him. If she were hiding as big a secret as she had a decade ago, this time he wouldn’t let her push him away with evasions and half-truths. He knew one thing for sure—Jordan Lewis had a decision to make before the day was through. She would tell him exactly where they stood with each other, or there would be nothing more to say.
Chapter Nine
Jordan gripped the steel rail tightly, as she leaned over it to watch the dark water crashing against the ferry’s white hull. Feeling Clay’s gaze on her, she glanced up to catch sight of him sidling closer to her. His hand came to rest on her shoulder and then drifted down to the small of her back, eliciting warm sparks of sensation that danced along her limbs. Though she’d been craving his touch since he left her at her bedroom door the previous night, she shrank away from him.
“Molly might see,” she muttered, turning to look for any sign of her daughter on the deck.
“She just left to get a snack a minute ago,” Clay said. “Don’t you want me to touch you?”
“It’s not that. It’s just too soon for, you know, public displays of affection.”
“Are you having second thoughts?” he asked, frustration colouring his voice. “You’ve barely talked to me all morning.”
She looked at his face, noting with dismay the frown etched into his handsome features. “Sorry. I didn’t want to give anything away to the others. I was afraid it showed all over my face that we mauled each other on the beach last night.”
Clay’s frown softened at once. “Let them think what they like. It’s none of their business.”
“You can imagine my horror when I woke up this morning to find my bed full of sand,” she said.
Clay laughed. “Me, too. It took me half an hour to get rid of the evidence.”
“So you do care what they think.”
“I care what you think. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.” A smile played on his lips. “You’ve been blushing all morning.”
“I have not,” she said, feeling herself redden yet again.
Clay’s smile broadened. “It’s okay. A little blush in your cheeks is becoming.”
Covering her cheeks with her palms, Jordan turned to sag against the rail. “Clay, it isn’t funny.”
“Are you sorry about what happened between us last night?” he asked, the humour fading from his voice.
“Nothing really happened.”
She felt him stiffen beside her. “Funny, it felt like something to me,” he said tightly. “Something extraordinary.”
Regretting her words, Jordan turned and gripped his arm. “That’s not what I meant. Of course it was wonderful. It was a perfectly natural thing to happen, the two of us being lonely, and with our past relationship—”
“It wasn’t about being lonely, Jordan. Not for me. I meant every word I said to you last night.”
“I know you did,” she replied, unsure whether she was trying to rationalize the situation for him or persuade herself that it hadn’t meant as much as it did.
Ignoring her protests, Clay gathered her against him, lowering his head to claim her mouth with his own. Taken by surprise, Jordan made no effort to resist. As his lips moved over hers with languid softness, she let her eyelids fall closed and wilted against him. His hand traveled up her spine and threaded into her hair, cradling her head as his other arm tightened around her waist.
Jordan felt a mounting excitement course through her blood, stripping away her sense of time and place; she felt herself tumbling wildly, as though they had plunged together into the depths of the ocean below. It took considerable effort to break away from the embrace, which she did abruptly, maintaining her grasp on Clay’s sleeve while the world around her swam back into focus.
“What’s bothering you?” With his palm he smoothed Jordan’s wind-swept hair away from her face so he could meet her eyes. “Why do you keep distancing yourself from me?”
“It’s complicated,” she muttered, finally dropping her hand from his sleeve.
“How complicated can it be?” Clay demanded, his voice loud enough to cause a nearby couple to glance at them. “I’ve told y
ou I love you, I want to be with you. Now it’s your turn to lay your cards on the table. If you don’t feel the same way about me, just tell me now.”
Gripping the rail again, Jordan hesitated. Why hadn’t she just told him the truth in the first place? Clay, I can’t have any more children. Do you still want me? She’d been too afraid of his answer, and just as she’d done eleven years ago, she’d rebuffed him before he could reject her. Again she’d withheld the truth to protect herself.
Of course she knew the reason she couldn’t hold onto Richard was the same reason she wouldn’t be able to hold onto Clay—she should’ve listened to her instinct to not get involved; she should’ve known her own heart well enough to realize that once she opened it to Clay McAdam again, even a little, there’d be no turning back.
She could still hear Clay’s words: After thinking for years that I didn’t want children, I don’t know how I could live without them now. In the end, a stepdaughter wasn’t enough for Richard, and it wouldn’t be enough for Clay, either. Jordan couldn’t help him replace the child he’d lost; with her there’d be no tiny flutter on an ultrasound screen to capture his heart. It seemed a cruel irony that she could no longer give him the children she’d wanted so fervently years ago, now that he wanted them just as much.
“It’s not that I don’t share your feelings,” she said desperately, keeping her own voice low. “I’ve had two husbands, but they never quite fit my heart the way you do. But there are other factors to consider.”
Clay’s hand slid under her chin, tilting her face up to him. “Just tell me what the problem is. It can’t be any worse than what I’m imagining.”
Gazing into his stone-gray eyes, full of urgency and bewilderment, Jordan felt her throat close over with emotion, and it was a long moment before she could speak. She had to make a decision quickly. If she told him the truth, she might lose him; but if she didn’t, her reticence would drive him away anyhow.
“The thing is—”
“Want some chips?” Molly asked behind them.
Jordan jumped away from the rail, turning to find Molly holding an open bag of potato chips out to them. How long had she been there?
“Oh, no thank you, sweetie,” Jordan said quickly.
Molly eyed her curiously. “You all right, Mom?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“I wouldn’t mind a few,” Clay said, reaching into the bag. “I haven’t had potato chips in ages. I got used to more exotic snacks during my travels.”
“Like what?” Molly wondered.
“All kinds of things. The most unusual was the roasted termites I had in Nigeria.”
Molly wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Eww.”
“They weren’t bad, really.” Clay grinned wickedly. “Kinda salty, with a nice crunch. But all the little legs would get stuck between your teeth, which was a bit of a drag.”
“Gross, don’t tell me any more or I’ll throw up,” Molly protested, enjoying the teasing all the same.
Clay was reaching for another chip when the hum of his cell phone intervened. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the phone, glancing at the screen.
“It’s Tim, my agent. I’d better see what he wants.”
While he answered, Jordan kept her gaze fixed on Molly, watching the little girl wander along the deck, squinting against the sun as the wind swirled her hair around her face.
Then a sudden rise in the pitch of Clay’s voice drew Jordan’s attention back to him.
“You’re kidding. That’s unbelievable.” A slow grin spread over his face. “The last thing I expected, to be honest. Of course it’s an incredible opportunity.” He glanced at Jordan, his expression sobering. “There are other things to consider now, though. I’m starting at the university in a few weeks. I’ll call you back, all right?”
“What was that about?” Watching him tuck the phone back into his pocket, Jordan felt a knot begin to form in the pit of her stomach.
“Turns out the Discovery Channel wants to pick up my show. They want to send me to Turkey to profile the site of Troy.” The edges of Clay’s mouth curved upward again. “It was one of the sites on my wish list for next season, before the show was canceled.”
“Oh.” Jordan’s heart began to thud a heavy rhythm. “You sound interested.”
He shook his head. “Not enough to accept.”
“You didn’t say no,” she pointed out.
Curling his hand around hers, Clay caught her gaze, holding it. “I will. I promised you, I’m not going anywhere.”
His assurances did little to abate the apprehension sweeping through Jordan. “Are you sure that’s what you want? It was easy to leave that life when you were forced out, but now you have a choice.” She’d seen the glint of excitement in his eyes when he heard the offer from his agent; it was the same look she’d seen on the younger Clay’s face, when his heart had been ruled by an insatiable desire to travel the world and discover its hidden cultural treasures.
“I’ve already made my choice.” He gently stroked her hair, entwining the fine blonde strands between his fingers. “You were about to tell me something before Molly came back,” he reminded her, glancing along the deck; though the ten-year-old was far enough away not to hear their conversation, she was making her way toward them, trailing her hand along the rail.
Jordan hesitated, casting her gaze out to the rolling waves below. She could tell him everything right now and put an end to her anxiety—but as she opened her mouth to speak a paralyzing fear gripped her, stifling the words in her throat.
Knowing the truth might just tip Clay’s choice in the other direction. She wasn’t prepared to face that just now.
A moment later Molly stood at her elbow, and it was too late to tell him anything.
“It can wait,” she said simply, slipping her arm around Molly’s shoulders.
* * *
It had rained all day Monday and showed no sign of stopping by early Tuesday morning. Jordan stood by the front window of her store, studying the raindrops as they slid down the pane, leaving crisscrossing tracks in their wake.
In the back room Adele rummaged through the boxes of books Jordan had brought back from the estate sale, frequently darting out to exclaim with surprise and delight on the discovery of one treasure after another. Having taken Monday off, this was her first opportunity to assess Jordan’s purchases.
“Jordan, this is a fantastic collection. You really are developing an eye for this,” she said, emerging this time with a leather-bound edition of Moby Dick clutched fondly to her chest.
“Beginner’s luck,” Jordan said somberly.
“You seem a little down,” Adele remarked, moving closer. “I thought the weekend went okay.”
“Yeah, it was fine.”
“You got along with Clay’s family?”
She answered with a soft shrug. “Yeah, no problems.”
Adele’s eyebrows raised a notch. “And Clay? Did you have to spend the whole weekend fending off his advances?”
Jordan rolled her eyes. “No, Adele.”
“Do you mean you didn’t have to or you just didn’t?” her friend asked teasingly.
Without replying, Jordan wandered away from the window, busying herself straightening the books on display at the front of the store. Adele was at her side within seconds, Moby Dick forgotten on the counter.
“Jordan! Now you have to tell me what happened.”
“He told me he loves me,” Jordan confessed, without looking up.
She heard Adele gasp and clap her hands. “And what did you say?”
“Not a lot at first.” Her head swimming with memories of their encounter on the beach, she felt her face grow warm. “He kept talking about how much he wants a family now.”
“And he doesn’t know—”
Jordan shook her head. “I meant to tell him. There just wasn’t a good time.”
“Do you still want more children?”
Jordan pulled in a deep breath and
released it slowly, considering the question. “After my divorce I thought I didn’t care anymore. But if I were with Clay, then yes, I’d want us to build a family together. As you know, I’ve always been open to adoption. But Clay—he went on about how important it is to have a child of his own. Just like Richard.”
“You can’t assume he’s going to react just as Richard did.”
“I know. But look at me—twice divorced at the age of thirty-two. Maybe the smartest thing for me to do is stay single for a while, and focus my energy on Molly.”
Adele regarded her thoughtfully, her lips pursed in concern. “So what are you going to do?”
“I honestly don’t know. Clay was supposed to call me yesterday, but he didn’t. He got an offer to continue his TV show, and he said he wasn’t going to take it, but I just have to wonder whether he really wants to.”
“Why don’t you call him?” Adele suggested.
Jordan frowned. “He’s staying with his sister who can’t stand me. I was hoping to avoid calling him there.”
Her friend quirked an eyebrow. “You said you got along fine with his family.”
“I said there were no problems. She was perfectly nice to me. But the looks she gave me spoke volumes.”
“Don’t worry about her,” said Adele, with a dismissive wave. “I’m sure he’ll call.”
Jordan glanced at her watch. It was time to open the store. Taking a last sweep around the store to make sure everything was ready, she strode over to the door and turned the latch to unlock it, and then turned the sign on the glass from “Closed” to “Open”.
As Adele returned to sorting the new books, Jordan leaned on the counter, waiting for the first customers of the day to arrive. When no one came, she found her eyes wandering to the silent phone nearby. Why hadn’t Clay called? She felt like a teenager—a recurring theme when it came to Clay—so consumed with the object of her affection that she could think of little else. In the back of her mind she wondered whether he might have changed his mind.
When customers finally arrived, she was able to push away the anxiety that had begun to occupy her mind. Despite the rain, it turned out to be one of the busiest days in the last few weeks; when the phone rang late in the afternoon, Jordan fully expected a customer on the other end of the line. Instead it was Clay’s voice that greeted her.
Where the Heart Lies Page 10
