“You first.” She perched on the edge of the chair beside the sofa.
“You already know plenty about me. My family’s in the news and what you don’t see there you can find on Wikipedia.” He watched her chest rise and fall faster with nerves, lending further credence to his sense she disliked anything high profile.
“None of that information tells me anything reliable about who you are.” She counted on her fingers. “I remember you were always on time for work. You never talked on your cell phone when you spoke with the foreman on the site. I liked that you gave people your full attention. I remember you downplayed the Landis connection so well I didn’t even know you were related until three weeks into the job.” She folded her fingers down again. “But Jonah, that’s not enough reason to get married. Even with the divorce, we have a history now. We should know more about each other than our work habits.”
“I know you like two sugars in your coffee,” he offered with a half smile.
This didn’t seem the right time to mention he knew her heart beat faster when he blew along the inside curve of her neck. The sex part would have to wait.
Talking appeared to be the only way to get closer to her, so he would talk. “You want to know more about me? Okay. My brother Kyle got married recently.”
“You mentioned that already when you talked about their vows renewal.”
“They went to Portugal, which is how I ended up in Spain again.” Nostalgia had pulled him over there, the hope that if he revisited the places he’d been with Eloisa he could close the door on that chapter of his life. “The press doesn’t know the reason they renewed their vows so soon after saying them in the first place. They got married to safeguard custody of my niece, my brother Kyle’s daughter. Her biological mom dumped her on Phoebe, then disappeared.” Anger chewed his gut all over again when he thought of how close his niece Nina had come to landing in foster care. “The whole mess really rocked our family. Thank God little Nina is safe.”
“You love your niece?” she asked, her face inscrutable.
“Gotta confess, I’m a sucker for kids. I take pride in being the favorite uncle. Want to see pictures of the rug rats?”
“You carry family pictures?” she squeaked incredulously.
“Got a whole album on my iPhone.” He unclipped the device from his belt and tapped the screen until pictures filled the display. He leaned closer to her. “My brother Sebastian and his wife remarried after divorcing each other. They have a son.”
He brought up an image of his toddler nephew taking his first steps. Then clicked to an infant girl. “That’s Sebastian and Marianna’s daughter. They adopted her then her birth mother changed her mind.”
He swallowed down a lump in his throat and kept his eyes averted until he could speak again. “Here’s my brother Matthew—”
“The senator from South Carolina.”
“Yes. This is him with his wife and their daughter at the beach.” He shuffled to the next photo. “And this is a family portrait taken in Portugal. There’s Mom with her husband, the General, his three kids with their spouses and children.”
“Your family is huge.”
Her family wasn’t so small either, when taking into account her biological father and his three sons, but mentioning that didn’t seem prudent. “Christmas can be rather noisy when we all get together at the family compound in Hilton Head.”
“It’s amazing you can gather everyone for any event with all the high-profile commitments.”
“We make time for what’s important.” Would she see and understand that his family was about things more important than a press release or bank balance?
She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms defensively. “Your brothers are happily married, which means your mother is probably riding your back to produce a happily-ever-after of your own with a wife and make chubby-cheeked cherubs, so you dig up me.”
Not even close to what he’d intended. He placed his phone on the end table by the glass paperweight. “That’s one helluva scenario to draw from a simple update on my brothers.”
“You’re not denying it.”
He was losing ground here and he wasn’t even sure why. “My mother may be a strong-willed politician in her own right, but I’m also very much her son, strong will and all. No one coerces me into anything.”
“Unless that influence comes from the bottom of a bottle.”
“I wasn’t drunk the night we got married.” He’d only had two of the local beers. “That was you.”
“Are you saying you actually wanted to be married to me?”
“I thought so at the time.”
Her mouth fell open, her eyes wide with horror. “You were in love with me?”
“The magnitude of your horror is positively ego deflating.”
She shoved up to her feet. “You’re playing with me.” She walked across the room and opened a closet full of linens. “I don’t appreciate your making fun of me.”
The way she so easily dismissed what had happened between them a year ago really pissed him off. Okay, so their wedding had been an impulsive mistake. His brothers had been getting married. He’d had this idea that what he felt around Eloisa resembled what his brothers described about finding “the one.” He may have been wrong about that. She may have had a couple of drinks, but she’d been clear about how much she wanted him, too, how much she’d needed him.
Need wasn’t love. But they had felt something for each other, something strong and undeniable.
“I would never mock you.” Frustration sliced through him with a razor-sharp edge. “There are far more interesting things I would like to do with you tonight. Let’s back up to the part about sex.”
She laughed. “At no time were we talking about sex.”
“You mentioned making cherubs.” Yeah, they were engaging in good old-fashioned bantering but damn, he found it arousing and a fine way to take the edge off his anger. “I’m sorry if your mother never got around to giving you the talk, but sex makes babies.”
Her face closed up again. “You’re not half as funny as you think you are.”
“I’m halfway funny? Cool.”
She dumped an armful of linens into his lap. “Make up your own bed on the sofa. I’m done here.”
He watched her grab her purse before pounding up the steps to her bedroom, and he couldn’t even rejoice over the fact she’d let him stay. Her door clicked shut behind her, the sound of a lock snicking a second later.
Somewhere along the line he’d misstepped. And he didn’t have a clue what he’d done wrong now any more than before.
Upstairs in her room, Eloisa sunk to the edge of her bed, sliding down to the floor. She clutched her knees, tears making fast tracks down her face.
Seeing Jonah touch that glass paperweight had almost driven her to her knees earlier. After she’d lost the baby four months into her pregnancy, she’d had a private memorial service all her own for her child. She’d taken a tiny nosegay of white rosebuds to the beach and let waves carry them away as she’d prayed.
She’d kept one rose for herself. The bloom had dried far faster than her tears. Then she’d had the bud encased in glass along with a couple of tiny shells and some sand from that stretch of shoreline.
Jonah obviously loved children, evident not just from his words but from the way his eyes had gone soft over that family photo album. Each beautiful baby’s face had torn a fresh hole in heart, tormenting her with what her child—hers and Jonah’s—might have looked like.
The doctors had told her it was just one of those things. There was no reason why she couldn’t have more children, but she couldn’t see any way clear to having forever with any man, much less starting a family.
Between fears about threats from her father’s enemies to even deeper fears about living out her mother’s legacy… Eloisa swiped her eyes with her forearm.
God, she was mess.
What would Jonah say if he learned she’d kept the pregnancy
a secret from him?
She still didn’t understand why she’d delayed contacting him about the baby. She’d told herself she would let him know before their child was born. When she’d miscarried and her emotions had been such a turmoil of grief, contacting him seemed an overwhelming hurdle.
Every day that passed, it seemed easier to stay quiet. Telling him now wouldn’t serve any purpose.
Her cell phone chimed from inside her purse, startling her midsob. She definitely didn’t feel like speaking to anyone this late. Thank goodness the chimes indicated a text message.
She fished out her phone. Her sister’s name scrolled across the screen. Eloisa thumbed View.
R U home? Worried about u.
Eloisa clutched the phone. She’d never shared her burdens with anyone before. The secrets were too big, too deep. Unburdening herself would be selfish. She stifled back the crazy notion of what it might feel like to spill her guts to her sibling.
Eloisa typed out, Am home and ok. No worries.
She sent the message and pushed to her feet. She needed to splash water on her eyes and go to sleep. Would that be possible with Jonah downstairs on the sofa?
Her phone chimed in her hand. Audrey again.
What about tycoon hunk? Is he there?
She set the cell on the bathroom counter next to the sink. Her fingers hovered over the keypad. What should she tell her sister?
He was most definitely bothering her by his mere presence so much more than she could have even expected. But if she wanted time to figure out what to do about him, her father, her biology, she needed to play along with his bizarre game a while longer.
Beyond that? What did she want?
Eloisa looked at herself in a mirror framed with seashells and sand dollars. She picked at a strand of hair that had slipped loose from her severe ponytail, her face devoid of makeup. But her cheeks were flushed in a way they’d never been before—except for that too-short month in Spain.
The truth settled inside her with a resounding thud. She couldn’t be the sort of person who would walk into that living room, whip the covers off Jonah and say to hell with the consequences, she was making the most of her marital status. She’d gone that route before and it only led to their current mess.
A tempting alternative tickled at her brain. What if she did sleep with him again, but the next time was more about fun, with no ring? She’d let things get too serious before. That had obviously been a mistake on so many levels.
Could she forget the past and have an affair with her ex-husband?
Five
Eloisa made it through the night without a trip downstairs, although it had been rough going when she’d woken up at around four.
But finally the morning sun streaked through her reed roll-up blinds. She could leave her room without feeling she’d caved. Since it was only six-thirty, she might just get to watch him sleep, something she’d missed out on during their one night together.
She pulled on a white terry-cloth robe, securing it tight before leaving her bedroom. Halfway down the stairs she realized the sofa was empty. Well, empty other than the thin quilt straggling off the side. The pillow still bore the deep imprint of a head. Eloisa padded barefoot down the rest of the steps, her toes sinking into the carpet runner along the wood.
Where was Jonah? The spare bathroom downstairs was silent, the door cracked open, steam still lightly fogging the mirror and a pale blue towel hung on the rack. Had he left as abruptly as he’d shown up, even after joking about wanting a final night together? Just the thought of being with him again sent a tingle along her skin, a tingle doused by the possibility he’d already left.
Her bare feet picked up speed along the hardwood floor, but the kitchen was empty, too.
“Uh-huh…” His voice drifted inside.
She spun around. The French doors were open an inch. She sagged back against the island counter and stared through to the patio. Jonah lounged in her Adirondack chair, cell phone pressed to his ear. Curiosity held her still and quiet when she probably should have done something to announce her presence, like slam a couple of cabinets open and closed.
His jean-clad legs stretched out long and so damn sexy, showcased by the morning sun. There was something hot and intimate about his bare feet and while she couldn’t see his chest, his arms appeared bare as well.
Memories of making love in Spain flamed hotter in her mind after simmering below the surface all night long. She may have had a couple of drinks and lost some inhibitions, but she remembered the sex. Good sex. Amazing sex. She’d been so hungry for him as she’d torn away his shirt, popping buttons in her frenzy. His chest had captured her attention all by itself. She’d known he was muscular. The ripples under his shirt had been impossible to miss, but she hadn’t been prepared for the intense definition, the unmistakable strength and power far more elemental than any money or prestige.
She’d always considered herself the cerebral sort, attracted to academic types. So it had totally knocked her off balance when she’d gone weak-kneed over a peek at Jonah’s pecs.
“Right,” he said to whoever was on the other end of the line. He thrust a hand through his still-damp hair, slicking it back. “I realize that cuts a week off our timeline. Go ahead and send me the new specs. I’ll get back to you with an answer by the end of business today.” He listened and nodded. “I can be reached at this number. Meanwhile, I’ll be on the lookout for your fax.”
He disconnected and didn’t show signs of dialing again, apparently done with chitchatting for the moment. Any second now, he might stand and notice her. Eloisa looked around for some excuse to appear busy rather than to be eavesdropping. She snatched the empty coffeepot from the coffeemaker.
Jonah stood, stretching his arms overhead.
Her mouth went dry. His chest was everything she remembered and more. She’d forgotten about the deep tan. The honey-warm glow of his skin made her want to taste him all over.
She visually traced the cut of his six-pack lower, lower still down to…oh my…he’d left the top button of his jeans open. No boxers.
Just a hint of a tan line.
Eloisa grabbed the counter for balance.
She tore her gaze off his bare stomach and brought it to his face. He was looking straight back at her as she stood in the kitchen, stock-still, holding on to the counter with one hand. Her other held a coffeepot dangling uselessly from between her fingers.
“Sorry, uh, Jonah,” she babbled, startling into action and shoving the coffeepot under the faucet as he sauntered inside. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your call.”
“It’s okay. We’d already wrapped up business.” He tucked the phone half into his pocket, studying her as intently as she’d studied him. “Are you making coffee or tea?”
The intensity of his gaze made her edgy. Was her robe gaping? Her hair a mess?
She glanced at the pot…. Damn. She’d forgotten to turn on the faucet.
“Coffee.” Eloisa turned her back to him and focused on making extra-strong java. Hopefully by the time the last drop dripped she would have scavenged some self-control and dignity. “Were you talking to your lawyer about moving forward on the divorce?”
“That was a work call.” The heat of his voice and breath caressed her shoulder and she hadn’t even heard him approach. He moved quietly for such a big man.
“You have a job?” she asked absently, setting the glass pot on the counter rather than risk dropping it. When had her fingers gone numb?
He flicked her ponytail forward over her shoulder. “I think I’m insulted you have to ask.”
Ducking away, she opened the cabinet and foraged for her favorite hazelnut-cream-flavored beans. “Weren’t you working on your grad studies like the others when we met?” She glanced back at him. “I assumed…”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You assumed that I was a perpetual student content to live off Mom and Pop’s nickel? You sure painted quite a picture of me with very little info.”
> She finished pouring coffee beans into the coffeemaker, closed the lid and hit Start. The sound of the grinder grated along her already ragged nerves. “You made assumptions about me, too.”
“Such as?” He leaned against the counter, dipping his head into her line of sight.
“I gave off the appearance of being someone different during those weeks in Madrid.” She crossed her arms over her chest, keeping her robe closed and her hands off his chest. “That time of my life was very out of character for me.”
“How so?”
“I’m a homebody, not a world traveler. I like my books and my Adirondack chair with a mug of coffee. That sort of exotic adventure was a onetime good deal. I lucked into a scholarship program that granted me the extra credits I needed. Bottom line, I’m a bookish librarian, not a party girl who gets drunk and impulsively marries some hot guy.”
“You think I’m hot, huh?” His blue eyes twinkled as brightly as the rising sun glimmering through the sliding patio doors.
“You already know I find you physically attractive.” She conjured her best “librarian” voice that put even the rowdiest of hoodlums in place. “But there are more important issues to address here.”
“Of course.” He selected an apple from her wicker fruit bowl on the counter. “I have a theory.”
“What would that be?” They were nearly naked. He had an apple.
Where was the snake? Because she certainly was tempted.
He gestured with the fruit in his hand. “I think you are the sort of woman who travels the world and impulsively takes risks, even knowing sometimes those risks may not work out. Deep down you want to take more of those risks because you also know that sometimes things do work out.”
“You seem to have decided a lot about me.”
Without answering he crunched a big bite off the side. Why couldn’t he have chosen one of the more innocent oranges or plums?
She watched his mouth work. She’d done that before, in Spain during a late-day picnic with the whole crew. Back then she’d only indulged in what-if fantasies about Jonah, never for a second thinking she would one day act on them.
The Tycoon Takes a Wife Page 5
