Believe in Me: A Rosewood Novel

by Laura Moore

  “Somehow I think I’ll survive,” Owen said gruffly, strangely touched that she’d bothered to voice a concern about Nonie’s reaction, especially after Jordan had been treated so shabbily by Nonie. In hindsight, he wished he’d flat out refused to have anything to do with the interior work on the guest cottage. But had another design firm accepted the commission, they would never have given Jordan any of the credit for the results, which was what he planned to do at tonight’s cocktail party, with Nonie’s guests and Jordan present.

  Yes, he was pretty sure that after tonight, the only list he was going to top would be Nonie’s shit list. Hell, he might even edge out Jade, and he smiled at the thought.

  He climbed out of the car and came around to Jordan’s side, holding the door open for her. “So I’ll be back in a few hours,” he said and wondered whether he’d be able to last that long. Even now, he just had to have another taste of her. Lowering his head, he gave her a kiss that, like so many of the ones they’d shared during the night, triggered a rush of arousal that had everything in him tensing with need. With an effort, he reined in his fierce urgency and, releasing her, stepped back. “I’ll let you go.” Damned if he wanted to, though, and this definitely was not a normal reaction after a long night of making love to a woman.

  “Okay.” She knew she was staring, her eyes drinking him in, but she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to commit to memory how Owen looked standing there, so deliciously and sexily rumpled. And for the moment he was hers, she thought giddily.

  But she knew he wouldn’t be if she gave even a hint of how much she’d already come to care for him after a single night in his arms. Given his aversion to emotional commitment, he would doubtless interpret her confession as an attempt to box him in. As if to physically suppress the unwelcome words, she bit her lower lip.

  Instantly his gaze zeroed in on her mouth. With a whispered, “Jesus, Jordan,” he hauled her back against him, and brought his mouth to hers, using his teeth where hers had been just a second ago, tugging and nibbling with a greedy hunger.

  Toes curling at the pleasure unfurling inside her, she clung to him, her fingers digging into his broad shoulders, returning his kiss with a matching fervor.

  His hand was at her breast, fondling her nipple through the layers of dress and bra, teasing it into an aching bud, and driving her crazy with want, when the ringing of her cell had her jumping out of his arms.

  She crouched to rummage through her bag, which minutes ago had slipped to the ground, and retrieved it. Choked by a sudden rush of worry at a telephone call this early, Jordan managed a hoarse, “Hello?”

  “It’s me.” Richard didn’t bother to identify himself. “Your daughter wants to speak to you. Here she is, Olivia. Here’s Mommy.”

  There was a pause, then Olivia was on the line, crying and saying, “Mommy, Mommy!” over and over again, and breaking Jordan’s heart that she couldn’t reach out and comfort her baby.

  “Olivia, it’s okay, sweetheart. Tell me what’s wrong. Don’t cry, sweetheart, it’ll be all right. Olivia, do you know what? Daddy told me he was going to make your favorite breakfast today. Well, I can’t tell you if you’re crying because you won’t be able to hear. Daddy’s going to make you, Kate, and Max blueberry pancakes. And if you’re a very good girl, I bet you he’ll let you put the blueberries in the batter. I think he has another surprise, too, with lots of animals. Oh, sweetie, you’re going to have such a good day, there’s no reason to cry. Really. Can you take a deep breath? That’s my love. Now, don’t forget to tell Daddy that you’d like to read Maisie Goes Swimming with him because it’s your favorite. And give Daddy the phone, okay? Bye, bye, Olivia, I love you and I’ll see you tomorrow.” As she’d instructed Olivia, she drew a deep, steadying breath, and gave a start of surprise when Owen’s hand settled on her shoulder and squeezed it in silent support. She cast him a grateful, apologetic glance, but then Richard was back on the line.

  “She’s been up since quarter to five and won’t—” he began, but Jordan cut him off.

  “I don’t know how much of that you got, Richard, but if you could read the Maisie book I packed, it will help distract her. If it doesn’t, the Sesame Street DVD, the one with Bert and Ernie, always makes her laugh.”

  “I’ll go find them.”

  “Also, I hope you bought blueberries because she loves them.”

  “I think Cyn picked some up.”

  “Olivia’s favorite thing is to pour the blueberries into the pancake batter. Make sure you don’t give her the whole box, though. I also told her that you all would be going to the zoo.”

  “Ahh.” That was the sound Richard made when he was hedging.

  Well, too bad if he didn’t particularly feel like going to the National Zoo. Their young daughter was crying and Jordan knew that seeing the elephants and the pandas would put a smile on Olivia’s face, as well as Kate’s and Max’s. “It should be a perfect day for it, and Kate and Max haven’t been to the zoo since, well, it would be a really great treat for all of them.”

  “Okay.” The word was accompanied by a sigh. “We’ll go before lunch.”

  Some of the tension left her. “Thanks. They’ll love it.”

  “Yeah.” He paused. “I probably should have thought of taking them there myself. I remember how excited Max used to get watching the meerkats. And thanks for calming Olivia down. She’s been fine, but I guess when she woke up she was disoriented. Then the tears came. I figured we should—”

  “It’s fine. I’m glad you called.”

  “We didn’t wake you up?”

  “No, I wasn’t asleep.”

  Richard gave a little laugh. “Jordan, you worry way too much.” His voice had that condescending note he’d used so often during their counseling sessions with Abby Walsh.

  She half turned, her gaze seeking Owen. He’d moved a few feet away and was staring off in the direction of the barns while he waited for her to finish her conversation. Looking at him, a warm surge of affection washed over her. Last night, he’d been kind and generous and funny. Everything Richard had stopped bothering to be with her. Moreover, Owen didn’t resort to condescension to make himself feel superior.

  And Owen had more sex appeal in his left pinkie than Richard had in his whole body, she thought with a smile.

  “Jordan, I can tell by your silence you’re getting all uptight.”

  “Actually, no, I’m not—”

  “The kids have been fine with me. And they’re warming up to Cynthia, too. Listen, I better go and dig out that book and the Sesame Street DVD.”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll have Kate and Max call after breakfast.”

  “Okay. Good-bye.”

  Owen waited a second after Jordan had rung off before turning toward her. It had been weird to watch her go from lover to mother in the space of a heartbeat. One second she’d been arching into his hand with very sweet abandon. In the next, tense and distraught as she listened to Olivia cry.

  He supposed it was good to have such a pointed reminder that Jordan was a woman who came with complications. Yet even as he made himself focus on all of them—the kids, the ex-husband, the sorting out of the visiting arrangement, the whole messy shebang—he had to stifle the impulse to go and wrap his arm about her waist and offer what comfort he could.

  And he had to ignore his own queasiness at the idea of Olivia in a strange place missing her mommy. The toddler had always seemed so happy—in a terrifying zombie kind of way. His queasiness increased at the thought of Olivia crying, and her father not understanding a frigging word she was saying.

  Just because he didn’t want Jordan to get the wrong idea that he might be reevaluating the terms of their relationship didn’t mean he couldn’t show he cared. Her kid had been crying.

  “Everything all right now?” he asked. And because he needed to touch her, he did that, too, stroking the side of her face with the tips of his fingers.

  Jordan gave a tiny nod. “She’d
stopped crying by the time Richard got back on the line.”

  “She’ll probably be okay once Kate and Max are up. Kate’s a lot like you. She knows just what to say and do with Olivia.”

  Jordan smiled. He noticed, though, that it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  “I should get going,” he said reluctantly. If he weren’t certain the house was astir with her sisters and her brother-in-law, he would have done his best to coax Jordan upstairs to her room and make love to her until she forgot that her youngest child had woken up sad and missing her. Or if not forget, then at least soothe some of her pain.

  He pressed his lips to her brow, knowing that if he let himself kiss her on the mouth, or wrap his hand around the nape of her delicate neck, the cycle of need would start anew.

  “I’ll be back soon,” he said, already counting the hours until the evening when he could devote himself to making those blue eyes shine bright with desire.

  He waited until Jordan slipped inside the house to start down the drive and then cut across the still-empty pastures that bordered the woods between Rosewood and Hawk Hill.

  It was going to be a beautiful day, and the chance to spend it with Jordan while she worked with the foals struck him as a pretty fine way to pass the hours until he could make love to her.

  The fields were abloom, colors dotting the green with an impressionistic brushstroke and when he entered the woods, he was greeted by a chorus of songbirds high overhead.

  A ten-minute walk through the wooded trail and Owen caught a glimpse of Hawk Hill through the trees. His gaze sharpened, intent on studying the house from this approach.

  It really was a fine house, he thought with satisfaction. He remembered Jordan saying it had good bones. She was right. And he couldn’t wait to see it finished inside and out. The notion that through their joint efforts the old house would regain its gracious glory pleased him.

  This was another aspect of being with Jordan he was coming to appreciate. She shared his interests and understood what he spent his days working on. It felt good knowing he could talk about his renovation projects and that she wouldn’t be bored if the conversation turned to antique joists and rafters.

  Jordan was different.

  It was why he wasn’t reluctant or even resentful that one of the things he’d be doing this morning was to make the promised call to Fiona and let her know he wouldn’t be seeing her again. A funny reaction, because by all rights he should be feeling that dreaded, trapped sensation. Was it because he’d already recognized that things were coming to an end between him and Fiona? Or was he deleting her from his address book because after tasting the passion that was Jordan, a night with Fiona would have all the fizzle of flat champagne? Though he was in a decidedly introspective mood, he stopped short of asking himself whether being with any woman could compare to the pleasure he’d found with Jordan.

  It was only cocktails, and she wasn’t some country mouse who’d never been to a party, yet Jordan couldn’t calm the little nervous tremors that shook her as she plucked at the body-hugging sheath, wishing it were a little longer and two sizes bigger.

  The dress, a multihued silk knit Missoni with spaghetti-straps, which Margot insisted Jordan wear, clung to her like a second skin. Since it was a far cry from her typical outfits and a huge step out of her comfort zone, Jordan had resisted the choice.

  But Margot had won the argument, saying, “You simply cannot crash Nonie Harrison’s party in any old thing. You have the Radcliffe reputation to uphold, Jordan. You need to make us all—from Frank and Georgie on down—proud. Besides, this is your first date post Richard. You should celebrate it by dressing to the nines. Luckily Owen is discerning enough to appreciate a dress like the Missoni. And the blues in the dress make your eyes as deep as sapphires.”

  Jordan gave another uncertain tug. “It’s not too tight?”

  “Not at all. Lord, what I’d give for your boobs. You’ve got an amazing body, Jordan. And judging from the hour you rolled in this morning, Owen must think so, too. So have fun and flaunt it. All you need is a touch of mascara and a slightly deeper shade of lipstick. I have a couple of different shades in my makeup case you can try.”

  Even after applying her makeup, Jordan remained skeptical of the dress’s merits until she came downstairs and observed Owen’s reaction. His gaze went from dazed to fiercely hungry in three seconds flat. She decided she liked that a lot.

  “You look beautiful.”

  She smiled. “Thank you. The dress is Margot’s. You look very fine yourself.” His light wool suit was a bluish gray, which he wore combined with a white shirt and a navy-and-white-print tie. He looked positively mouthwatering, and she couldn’t help wondering if her eyes reflected the same intense desire she saw in his. Probably.

  “Maybe we should skip Nonie’s,” he said huskily.

  “Don’t you dare, Owen,” Margot said, skipping down the stairs. “I can tell how eager you both are to get more work done on Hawk Hill and all, but it’s payback time. You know the saying, ‘Living well is the best revenge’? For Jordan, that translates into walking into Overlea on the arm of a handsome man and looking more beautiful than any other woman in the place. So have fun tonight, kids. And don’t worry about the curfew.”

  “Have you forgotten that I’m older than you?”

  “Only in years, sweetie.”

  Jordan shook her head. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m beginning to sympathize with Jade.”

  “About time, but no worries: the oppressed will soon rise,” Jade said, crossing the foyer with a thick slice of focaccia bread in hand. “You look very hot, Jordan. Though I don’t see why Margot lends her duds to you and not to me.”

  “Probably because you’d much rather filch my Missonis outright,” Margot replied with a sweet smile.

  “Past crimes and misdemeanors,” Jade replied unfazed.

  “Yeah, last week is so ancient history.”

  “Too true. Say hi to Witch Harrison for us, sis,” Jade said, taking a big bite of her bread and heading toward the sitting room where she had a date with the TV. She was going to Tivo her favorite show, True Blood.

  “And tell her how devastated we are to be missing her party,” Margot said with a broad smile.

  Jordan nodded. “Oh, yes, those will be the first words from my lips.”

  Nonie had gone whole hog, with tikki torches lining the drive and all. The party was in full swing, and from the number of Jaguars and BMWs and Mercedes parked in the closely mown field, Jordan could tell that most of Warburg’s “elite” had been invited.

  “We don’t have to stay long,” Owen said, taking her hand as they walked toward the door.

  “Just long enough to satisfy my sisters.”

  “Exactly what I was thinking,” Owen replied, giving her hand a squeeze. And while they were there, he intended to make sure everyone saw Jordan looking like a million bucks and for them to realize that not only was she a knockout, she was also a very talented decorator.

  It took them a few minutes to locate Nonie, as the party had spilled out over the stone patio and onto the back lawn. Then, too, many of the guests who spotted Jordan broke away from their clustered group to come and say hi. That Jordan Radcliffe had arrived at the party with Nonie’s architect was clearly titillating news, Owen quickly realized, noting the sharp curiosity in their eyes when she introduced him.

  Unlike her guests, Nonie wasn’t curious, she was furious. She didn’t even tack on her usual “darling” when she said, “Owen, how lovely to see you.” Her glacial gaze then slid to Jordan. “Jordan. What a surprise.”

  “Yes, I’m afraid when Owen invited me to come as his date tonight I couldn’t resist. I do so want to see how the work on the cottage turned out.”

  Nonie’s smile widened, revealing her fangs. “But of course. The cottage looks fabulous. As I’ve been telling everyone, I couldn’t imagine any other firm being able to do such exceptional work.” Then, latching on to Owen’s arm, she said
, “You don’t mind if I steal Owen away for a few minutes? There are some people he simply must meet.”

  When she made to lead him away, Owen smiled and planted his feet. “I couldn’t possibly leave Jordan on her own, Nonie. My parents taught me it’s bad manners to abandon one’s date. I’m sure these people will be delighted to meet Jordan, too.”

  Confronting a woman like Nonie was so different with Owen acting as her stalwart champion, Jordan thought. Smiling, she let her fingers brush the back of his hand. “That’s all right. I see several people I’d like to catch up with. Come find me when you’re ready to show me the cottage.”

  Determined to get away from Nonie Harrison’s party as soon as possible, Owen wasted no time setting the record straight about his role in decorating the cottage to the people with whom he spoke. Debunking Nonie’s tales wasn’t especially hard, even with Nonie clinging to his arm. Whenever he received a compliment on the cottage, he simply answered, “I wish I could take credit for the interior design, but I merely provided the framework. The ideas for the décor were all Jordan Radcliffe’s.” And when they expressed their inevitable surprise, he continued, “Oh, yes, she’s an exceptionally talented interior designer. And even though Gage and Associates has its own design department, I’ve been so impressed by Jordan’s ideas and aesthetic sense that I’ve hired her to do the interior at Hawk Hill, the house I’m currently renovating. We should have it ready to put on the market in a few weeks. I hope you’ll come and see it.” Then he’d snag a shrimp and cilantro brochette or a tiny asparagus quiche or a slice of chorizo sausage—all the hors d’oeuvres were catered and thus not the usual inedible Overlea fare—and munch happily while Nonie stewed.

  After a while, Nonie unlatched herself from his arm and went off, probably to start spinning more half-lies. Owen didn’t care. He was confident they were going to be listening to him rather than her when it came to Jordan’s talents as a decorator. It felt good knowing he was helping her fledgling business take off.