Believe in Me: A Rosewood Novel
Page 25
Nonetheless it was like having a hundred needles pierce her heart as she made herself greet her ex-husband and former babysitter.
“Hi, they’re all ready as you can see.” Kate and Max had dragged their small nylon bags onto the porch and down the steps. In his enthusiasm, Max had even gone back for Olivia’s bag. “Susannah, it’s good to see you. I love your new hair style. You look great.” Richard did, too, with his Hawaiian tan, but she tried to avoid looking at him.
Bringing Susannah was actually an inspired idea, Jordan realized. She dispelled the awkwardness that threatened by rushing over to Jordan and kissing her. “It’s great to see you, too,” she said, beaming. “And the kids, they’ve gotten so big! Gosh, I’ve missed you guys!” she said, bending down to give Max and Kate two quick hugs. To Olivia, she gave another broad smile. “Hi, Olivia, my name’s Susannah. I used to take care of you when you were a little baby.”
Olivia, bless her sunny disposition, shoved her Elmo doll at Susannah and began, in her inimitable fashion, to tell her all about how much she liked Elmo and Cookie Monster.
While Susannah nodded and made the appropriate noises, Richard was busy fielding questions from his two older children, who wanted to know about Hawaii and the new house they were going to. But Jordan caught the quick glances he stole at Olivia while talking to his two older children. He hardly knew his youngest daughter.
The bitch in Jordan wondered whether he was going to follow Susannah’s example and bend down and reintroduce himself to his daughter. It would serve him right to have to say the words, “Hi, remember me? I’m your daddy. I took you out to the Shake Shack for ice cream the last time I was here.”
But while it would have given her a certain vindictive pleasure to make this difficult for him, she had to do her part for the children’s sake, for their happiness and ease, and ensure this crucial step in the transition went smoothly.
“Olivia, sweetie, why don’t you show Daddy Elmo, too? He loves Sesame Street.”
Always happy to expand the Sesame Street fan base, she toddled over to Richard, Elmo in her outstretched hand.
She was unable to do more than watch Richard’s sandy brown head meet Olivia’s tow-headed crown as he knelt to better examine the plush toy before she had to avert her gaze, blinking furiously to keep the tears at bay at the sight of him attempting to bond with his little daughter. Turning away, she began carrying the bags Max had dropped on the ground over to the rear of the Volvo. Following her cue, Susannah opened the rear passenger door that already had a booster seat for Kate and two car seats for Max and Olivia.
“Max, your dad placed you and Kate on either side of Olivia because he thought you might like to look out the window. Is that okay?”
Max looked into the car’s interior and solemnly nodded his approval of the seating arrangements. He was so sweet and loving, Jordan thought, her throat tightening dangerously. Determined not to break down in front of them, she swallowed forcibly.
“Okay, then,” she said, managing to sound fairly normal, “let me give you a kiss good-bye before you go with Daddy.” Kate came running over.
“Bye, Mommy.”
“Good-bye, sweetheart,” she whispered fiercely. “You be good and help Daddy and—Cynthia—with Max and Olivia.”
She said much the same to Max, and by the time she held Olivia to her, kissing her chubby neck that smelled of the baby powder she’d used to change her, she felt like she was about to shatter into tiny pieces. Passing Olivia into Richard’s waiting hands, she met his gaze briefly before looking away.
“Jordan, both Cyn and I are really grateful for how generous you’re being. Cynthia particularly wanted me to make sure you knew how much we appreciate this.”
She nodded jerkily.
“We’ll call as soon as we arrive,” he said quietly.
The arm that waved good-bye as the car doors were shut and Richard drove away with her children was as leaden as her heart.
It was a very good thing that Margot, Travis, and Jade had tactfully decided to absent themselves, remaining down at the barns while Richard collected the children. The car finally out sight, they weren’t there to witness Jordan crumpling onto the porch’s bottom step and bawling like a baby.
If they noticed her swollen, red-rimmed eyelids when she entered the main barn an hour and a half later, her sisters wisely avoided any remarks. “Did the kids get off all right?” Margot asked.
“Yes, I just spoke with them. They’ve arrived safe and sound and are going out for ice cream after dinner.”
“Huh. Well, Olivia won’t sleep a wink with all that sugar messing with her system,” Jade predicted darkly.
Jordan’s brows rose in astonishment. But she decided it wasn’t worth mentioning that this was a bit rich coming from someone who could easily lay claim to the title of Miss Sugar Consumption.
Jade’s comment achieved the near impossible: Margot looked distinctly unmodel-like, her mouth hanging open in dumb shock. And Jordan caught Travis hiding a grin as he made a careful study of the toe of his field boot.
Seconds passed with no one knowing quite how to respond to a Jade from an alternate universe, one who sounded like the FDA’s newest spokesperson, when Ned cleared his throat.
“Glad you came down, Miss Jordan. Andy was supposed to take Saxon out for a hack this afternoon but Night Wing’s come into heat, so Travis needs him to ride Nocturne before his date with her in the breeding shed. Nocturne’s a little less rattled about doing the deed when he’s been worked first.”
He pulled out his tin of tobacco and busied himself with scooping out a fingerful, but Jordan didn’t miss the color on his cheeks. That the old man who’d been breeding horses for more than fifty years could still blush was incredibly sweet. “So do you mind taking Saxon out for a spin? It’s a beautiful afternoon. He really needs a break from the exercise ring to keep him fresh during the show season.”
She wondered how long it had taken Ned, Andy, and her family to come up with this idea, and while part of her longed to point out that a good gallop over hill and dale would not heal the pain ripping through her, she recognized that taking Saxon out for a ride would get her away from their collective and, at the moment, suffocating concern. “Of course, Ned. Anything to help Night Wing and Nocturne’s afternoon fling in the shed.”
“That’s swell of you, Miss Jordan. I’ll go get him tacked for you.”
“Thank you, Ned, but I can do it. You have enough to do getting Night Wing ready,” she replied. And if she were busy grooming and tacking Saxon, she wouldn’t be subjected to any more of her sisters’ worried looks.
It was irksome to admit that Ned’s solution to life’s ills—hop on a horse and go for a heart-racing gallop—could improve her mood, but the cross-country ride did help.
Saxon was a fine animal, big and powerful, with his sire Stoneleigh’s speed and boldness and his dam Sava’s solidity and willingness. After so much time riding the broodmares, having the young gray’s energy beneath her as he carried her through the cool of the green woods and then over fields dotted with ox-eyed daisies and bluets, was pretty darn exhilarating. That Saxon was enjoying their jaunt was evident in the constant swiveling of his ears, the energetic blowing of his nostrils, the springy high step of his gait, reminding her of all the coiled energy just waiting to be released the second she softened her hands on the reins and squeezed him forward with her legs.
And when she did, the gelding was more than game. He literally bounded forward into a canter that within ten strides shifted into a glorious gallop. Bent low over his bobbing neck, the warm late-afternoon air whipped her face, stretching her smile as they galloped on.
The only problem with Ned’s solution was that Rosewood, with its three hundred acres and the neighboring properties where they had permission to ride, wasn’t big enough to banish her sorrow completely. But she couldn’t keep Saxon out longer. They’d been out for over an hour and riding hard on hilly terrain. As strong as the geldi
ng was, to do more would foolishly court injury.
Nevertheless, she realized there was an additional benefit to having ridden. By the time she cooled Saxon down, un-tacked him, washed him in the shower stall, and then walked him, letting him graze until his dried coat shone like burnished steel, she had killed nearly two and a half hours. Only sixty-six or so more to go until she saw her children again.
So she volunteered to help at feeding time, first walking the hose down the wide aisles to top off the water buckets in each stall, then joining Tito in divvying up sections of hay and dropping them into the stalls as Felix scooped and poured rations of grain pellets into rubber feed tubs. Long accustomed to the work, Tito and Felix were extraordinarily efficient. The three of them had the horses fed and watered in all three barns within an hour. Then there was nothing for it except to head up to the house and resist peering into the children’s empty rooms as she went to her own room to shower.
But the baby powder she dusted on her body after toweling herself dry made her think of Olivia, and then the phone rang with Kate on the line sounding happy and so very far away.
“Olivia’s and my bedroom has little purple flowers on the walls, Mommy. Olivia had strawberry ice cream and it got all over her shirt, but Daddy said that’s okay. And Cynthia gave me a necklace made of little pink shells from Hawaii. And she gave Max a boat and Olivia a doll.”
“I’m glad you’re having such a good time.”
“I wish you were here, too, Mommy.”
“Well, this is Daddy and Cynthia’s special time with you. You’ll see me on Sunday when Daddy drives you back. So you keep having fun and helping Daddy with Olivia and Max. Okay?”
Max seemed equally content, and Olivia, perhaps on the sugar high Jade had so darkly predicted, or perhaps simply thrilled to be up past her bedtime, babbled a blue streak.
Hanging up, Jordan knew there was no way she could stay in the house a minute longer.
Where to go, what to do?
She could work, that’s what. Seizing on the answer like a lifeline, she practically sprinted into the family room and gathered up the sample books lying by the foot of her desk where she’d been looking at them the night before. Hugging them to her, she hurried down the back stairs, immediately announcing to Travis and Margot, who were in the early stages of fixing dinner, “I’m off to Hawk Hill to get some work done. It’d be foolish not to take advantage of this free time.”
“And dinner?” Margot asked.
“Not hungry.”
“Even after that ride?” she persisted.
“Really.”
“But—”
Travis laid a hand on Margot’s arm. “Jordan’s a big girl,” he said, his mouth crooking in an answering smile to the grateful one Jordan sent him. “Say hi to Owen, and tell him if he wants to come and lend a hand with the foals this weekend, we could use the help. Bob Dillard called while you were out with Saxon. He’s bringing some clients to look at Solstice and Beat the Clock.”
“That’s great. But I don’t think we’ll be getting any free labor from Owen this weekend. I’m pretty sure he said something to Doug about going to Alexandria.”
“So he won’t be at Hawk Hill even now?” Travis asked.
“I doubt it,” she replied lightly. “But he showed me where he keeps the front-door key so I can let myself in. I’ll probably work until pretty late. Call my cell if you need me.”
“You be careful,” Margot said, clearly unable to shake her mother-hen attitude.
“I always am.”
The pounding bass beat of a rock song escaping through the open windows of Hawk Hill told Jordan how very wrong she’d been in assuming she would be alone at the house. It must be Owen. Diligent as Doug and Jesse were, they weren’t crazy enough to work overtime on a Friday night.
She walked inside, not bothering to knock or ring because neither could have competed with the Rolling Stones at full throttle.
The music being blasted was a far cry from the Cole Porter Owen had played on the piano, but then so was his appearance, her feet and mind stumbling to a stunned halt as she took in his sweat-covered torso. He’d stripped to the waist to plane a door that was propped on two sawhorses.
For a man who looked as suave and cool as a woman could wish in impeccably tailored clothes, Owen Gage dirtied up darn well.
She swallowed, unable to take her eyes off the rhythmic motions of his strong body; the heavy flex of his biceps as he moved his arms along the length of the door; his back muscles, covered with a tantalizing sheen of sweat, rippled in shifting contours, the lines of his torso tapering at his waist to where his jeans sat on his lean hips, just below the twin hollows at the base of his spine.
Her gaze shifted south, lingered there, as she might in front of a beautiful sculpture, so easily could she picture the curve of his buttocks beneath the layer of denim, an ass she knew would be as deliciously muscled as the rest of him.
Just then Owen spun around and she was caught with her gaze directed right at the clustered bulge of his crotch.
Hastily she tore her eyes away—up. But that was no good.
God, he had such a … a masculine chest, she thought dazedly, everything inside her going fluttery and fluid at the dark hair matting the solid planes. She wanted to run her fingers through it, follow its path as it narrowed into an erotic arrow down his flat belly.
“Jordan. What are you doing here?” Owen asked with what struck her as a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
Going out of her mind, that much was obvious.
Belatedly remembering that she had four pattern books in her arms, she managed to say, “I’m here to check the fabrics and colors for the bedrooms. It’s always good to look at them at different hours of the day, and I was free.” That definitely sounded better than “I was staring at your naked torso and imagining what the rest of you looks like.” Of their own volition, her eyes flicked over the flat brown circles of his nipples. Her own tightening in achy response, she squeezed the design books tighter.
Swamped with a sudden feeling of hopelessness, she nearly squeezed her eyes shut, too. Here was a half-naked man and she had no idea how to behave around him. She would have had a hard enough time knowing how to flirt with the Owen of old. But looking as he did now, a brawny, sweaty, musky male, he drove any flirting skills she might have possessed right through the open windows.
“And what are you doing here?” she asked with a touch of resentment. “I thought you were going to be in Alexandria.”
As though underscoring his transformation into a he-man, Owen actually grunted. “Spring cold.”
“You’re sick?”
“No.”
“Oh.” And then she understood. Thank God she hadn’t been foolish and thrown herself at him. He was only here because his date was curled up with a box of Kleenex.
He’d been watching her connect the dots with an impassive expression. “The children are with your ex?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes.” Her anxiety returned in full.
“And so you’re here?”
His he-man transformation was complete in every way. Now he was posing repetitive as well as obtuse questions. That, combined with the dark slash of his frowning brows as though he couldn’t believe she was so pathetic that she’d spend her Friday night working in an empty house, made her snap, “Yes, I forgot to line up all my eager lovers, so I had to settle for second best, figuring out whether I like ‘Buffed’ or ‘Solo’ better as colors for the east bedroom.” An apt metaphor for the present situation: he was buffed, she was solo. Unwilling to hear another one of those grunts that emanated from deep inside his beautifully ridged abdomen, she spun around to stalk up the stairs.
“I’ll need to take a shower in the master bathroom.”
Owen naked in the shower. Water flattening the dark hair of his chest, his groin, and down his long legs as it raced in hot rivers over him.
She congratulated herself on not falling flat on her face.
The work allowed him to regain a measure of control. When he’d turned around to find her staring at him, he’d come damn close to throwing caution to the winds and jumping her. To hauling her up against the wall and diving his hands under that pretty dress so they could streak over those subtly fragrant curves that had been driving him mad for too long, and then wrapping his hands around her bare thighs and lifting her legs high on his hips as he ground his cock against her. With that light-as-air cotton dress she was wearing bunched up around her waist, it would be so easy to strip off her panties, three heart-trembling tugs and she’d be open and ready for him …
A pretty, come-fuck-me dress Jordan hadn’t even put on for him.
As buckets of dripping cold reality went, the realization that she hadn’t even been thinking about him was extremely effective at dousing his mind-searing lust. Somewhat more rational, he was able to figure out that Jordan was only here because she was freaked out about her kids’ weekend stay with their father. It was not because she was twisted in pretzel knots of lust.
Though that wasn’t quite right, he corrected silently. He’d caught the widening of her deep blue eyes as she checked him out. It was clear she’d liked what she’d seen. Being an object of feminine appreciation was fine by him. She could look all she wanted. He’d really like it if she went and did some touching, tasting, and feeling, too.
And if he didn’t get to reciprocate in kind very soon, and show her how much he wanted to touch and taste and nibble—devour—every inch of her silky skin, he was going to go out of his fucking mind.
Keeping his desire for Jordan at bay had made for a brutal week of hammering and sawing, as he basically signed on as an extra carpenter working alongside Jesse and Doug. But the physical labor made the nights tolerable. Working late into the evening, he would flop exhausted onto the mattress in the master bedroom and slide into a dreamless sleep. The next morning, however, found him like Sisyphus: right back where he started. One look at Jordan, and the cycle of wanting would begin anew.