by Helen Lacey
The house was modest but tastefully decorated, and when they reached the living area, Connie noticed that one corner was filled with canvases and artist’s tools, including an assortment of easels and several small tables crammed with paints and charcoals.
“You’re an artist?” she asked.
Kathleen shrugged lightly. “I dabble. Though I’m not really very good. It’s more of a hobby than anything else.”
Connie noticed one of the largest easels was covered in a paint-splattered sheet. “Is that a secret project?”
Kathleen grinned. “More of a practice piece. I’m branching out into portraits. You know, you have lovely bone structure,” she commented and nodded and looked at her son. “She’d make a great model. Don’t you think, sweetie?”
“Mom,” Jonah chastised. “Enough with the sweetie thing.”
Connie wasn’t sure if he was genuinely embarrassed, but Kathleen took it in stride. They were clearly very close and a tight unit.
“Okay, I promise,” his mother said and shrugged. “Now, go and be useful and bring me some firewood,” she said and pointed to the empty crate near the hearth. “It’s going to get cold this week, and I’d like to be ready for the turn in the weather. It’s out by the back door.”
He lingered for a moment before leaving the room, his loose-limbed stride becoming so familiar to Connie that she suspected she could pick him out in a crowd at a hundred yards.
“So,” Kathleen said once he was out of sight. “Tell me, Connie...how long have you been dating my son?”
* * *
By the time he had the second hunk of firewood in his arms, Jonah figured that bringing Connie to his mother’s home was up there with some of the stupidest things he’d ever done. Because he knew from the look in his mom’s eyes that she was imagining all kinds of things—most of them focused on Connie being the first girl he’d brought home in nearly five years. Of course, like any mother, she had the matchmaking bug. And she wanted grandchildren...she’d made that clear on countless occasions. And yeah, maybe one day he’d find someone and raise a family. Maybe. One thing was for sure—he’d do a damned better job being a father than J.D. ever had.
By the time he returned to the living room, Connie was alone.
“Did you get the third degree?” he asked and dumped the firewood.
“Yes,” she replied. “It took several minutes of fast talking to convince her that I am not your girlfriend.”
He grinned. “That’s better than I expected. But in her defense, I don’t make a habit of bringing girls home to meet my mother.”
Something flashed in her eyes—something that had everything to do with the attraction that pulsed undeniably between them.
“So, why did you bring me?” she asked, brows up.
Jonah managed a shrug. “I don’t really know.”
She smiled. “I figured you’d be the kind of man who knows exactly what he’s doing at every moment. Or at least, that’s what you want people to think.”
Jonah’s mouth curled at the edges. “That sounds like more criticism.”
“It’s an observation,” she said, still smiling. “I see you, Jonah. I see what’s underneath your arrogance and resentment. You’re actually a lot nicer than you make out.”
Jonah grimaced. “Nah... I’m not.”
She chuckled. “It’s not a flaw, you know. Or a weakness.”
“It just feels like one, right?” he offered and shrugged a little. “Anyway, I’m sorry if my mom gave you the third degree.”
“She thinks you’re afraid of commitment.”
“Wary,” he corrected. “There’s a difference. I guess she’s in the kitchen making tea?”
She nodded. “She loves you a lot.”
“I know,” he said. “It’s mutual.”
“You’re lucky. No everyone gets that.”
There was pain in her voice, and it gave him an odd ache inside. “Didn’t you?”
“Not in the way you did,” she replied. “My parents were...are...hard to get close to. They’re career focused. Archaeologists,” she explained when he frowned. “The truth is, I spent most of my early childhood living on one excavation site after another, but when I was eight they sent me back here to live permanently with my grandparents. They parented me the best they could when they came back in between trips, but since they’d never planned on having kids, most of the time they were a train wreck. At the moment they’re in South America somewhere, but I don’t hear from them very often. I’m very grateful that I had my grandparents.” She sighed, then took a breath, and when she met his gaze, her eyes were brighter than usual. “I don’t know why I told you that.”
“I’m not judging. Just listening.”
“I know,” she said and dropped onto the sofa. “You’re good at it. It’s very annoying.”
Jonah laughed softly. “Some people think it’s charming.”
“Some women, you mean?” she suggested. “You’ve probably had women standing in line for you since you hit puberty.”
“Not quite,” he admitted. “I was something of a geek in high school. And puny. And I had braces.”
“That paints quite a picture. I imagined you were the quarterback with cheerleaders hanging off your every word.”
“No. A computer geek. I didn’t really discover girls until college.”
“Did you make up for lost time?”
Jonah’s blood quickened. “I did my best. What about you? Were you the most popular girl in high school?”
She shook her head. “Not by a long mile. Book nerd.”
“No high school boyfriend to take you to prom?”
“I didn’t go to prom. I left high school at end of my sophomore year.”
Surprised, he asked the obvious question. “You didn’t graduate?”
“I was homeschooled by my grandmother. She used to be a teacher. I started working at the hotel before graduation and J.D. offered me a full-time job when I got my diploma, but he insisted I get a college degree no matter what. So I achieved my BA through online courses.”
“Why didn’t you go to school and college the usual way?” he asked quietly.
She shrugged casually. Too casually, he thought. But she replied. “I just didn’t fit in at school. But I was determined to get an education.”
Admiration settled behind his ribs. It was a harder road than he’d had, that was for sure. Jonah had spent his elementary years at private school and high school years at the best educational facility Portland had to offer. J.D. hadn’t neglected his financial support on his secret family. It was everywhere else that he’d failed in the parenting department.
His mother returned a few moments later, carrying a tray and looking delighted, and he knew he was in for a load of questions the next time he visited alone. As he looked around the room, he realized how much change had occurred in the house since she’d moved in a few months earlier. There were pictures on the walls now, and a large framed landscape above the fireplace. And a few plants were scattered around the room in heavy ceramic pots.
“You’ve been decorating,” he remarked, realizing there was a large oak dresser against one wall. “I would have come and moved things if you needed help with furniture.”
He noticed his mother’s gaze darted downward. “Oh, yes, I had a friend give me a hand. It was just a few things and I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Which friend?” he asked.
His mother smiled and waved a hand. “No one you know. So, Connie...what are your plans for Thanksgiving this year?”
“The same as last year,” she replied. “I volunteer at the veterans’ home near the community hospital when I can, and over the holidays I lend a hand serving the turkey and baked ham. Then I head to a friend’s place and have drinks with her. Sometimes I work—it depends on how busy things a
re at the hotel. The O’Sullivans always invite me to spend the day with them, but I don’t like to impose.”
She was jabbering...nervously. Almost as though she was embarrassed by her lack of family to spend the holidays with. Jonah experienced an acute sense of sympathy and respect. And although he was sure she rarely allowed anyone to see it, there was a kind of vulnerability about Connie that pushed his sense of honor and instinctively made him want to protect her...though he had no idea what from. Especially since she seemed capable and strong and very able to look after herself.
But the macho conditioning she’d accused him of having suddenly kicked in and he spoke before he had the chance to realize what he was saying. “You’d be welcome to join us.”
She stared at him, wide-eyed. “Oh...well... I...”
“Yes,” his mother chimed in. “That’s a lovely idea. The more the merrier. Sometimes it is awfully quiet when it’s just the two of us. And if Jonah is in one of his moods...well...”
“Moods?” he echoed. “What moods?”
The two women looked straight-faced for a moment and then burst out laughing.
“Sweetie,” his mother said and ignored his scowl, “you know how you get all worked up about things. He gets that from my side of the family,” she said and winked toward Connie. “My brother, Derek, gets like that...quiet and closed off.”
“Would you stop talking about me as though I’m not in the room?” he requested, not as outraged as he probably should have been, because Connie’s smile sparked something deep inside him. Something that brought on an uncomfortable urge to kiss her. Pushing the feeling aside, he pretended to glare at his mother, reminding her, “And don’t call me sweetie.”
“Yes, dear,” she said and poured the tea. “It’s because he’s a Virgo.”
Jonah groaned. “Please, Mom, not the astrology thing.”
“Oh, please go on,” Connie said and took the cup his mother offered, her gray eyes sparkling delightfully. “This I’d like to hear.”
Jonah stood back, suddenly poleaxed, as he realized an astounding fact. Despite the way they sparred and their complicated history, he liked Connie. And it wasn’t merely a byproduct of the insane sexual desire he felt for her. He genuinely liked her. He wanted to get to know her better. He wanted to see her smile and hear her laugh and pick up the scent of her perfume on his clothes after they’d spent time together.
And he was, he also realized, going to pursue her.
Whatever it took, he was going to get her into his bed and see if he could purge the feelings that were banging around in his mind and body. Because there was no walking away from Connie Bedford. She’d gotten under his skin and the only way to get her out was to dive in, headfirst.
He’d have her in his arms—and in his bed—by Thanksgiving.
He was sure of it.
* * *
Connie enjoyed chatting with Kathleen Rickard. The other woman entertained her with stories about her life in Portland and her work as kindergarten teacher—and about Jonah as a child, which clearly embarrassed him a little. She relaxed and sat back into the couch, conscious that Jonah was sitting across the room on a damask love seat, watching her over the rim of his mug. He seemed content to keep quiet and allow Kathleen to monopolize the conversation. But she felt the intensity of his stare as though he was branding her skin with his fingertips. His blue eyes remained solely fixed on her for the following half hour, and her awareness of him was on red alert.
It was nearly twelve when he suggested they leave, and she agreed without complaint. Kathleen made her promise to think about Thanksgiving, and Connie assured her she’d be in touch.
Once they were in the car and back on the road, Connie noticed that he was still silent. “Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Of course,” he replied and then asked for her address again.
“Your mother is so lovely. I had a nice time.”
“I’m glad.”
“Why didn’t she ever get married?” she asked quietly.
His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “Because she could never completely finish things with J.D.”
Connie couldn’t miss the condemnation in his voice, and her heart lurched. “I don’t understand.”
“He kept coming around...kept giving her hope.”
“But their romantic relationship had ended, right?” she probed. “When she left Cedar River, didn’t she end things between them?”
“Yeah,” he replied and took a right turn. “But he still made himself a fixture in her life.”
“In your life,” she corrected. “He visited Portland to see you, correct?”
He shrugged aggressively. “So he says. And thankfully Mom has always kept him at arm’s length. But his constant presence made it impossible for her to move on with her life, so she didn’t.”
“Did you want her to?”
“I wanted her to be happy,” he replied. “I still do. I’m just not sure how she can do it here with so many memories.”
“What do you mean? She’s been gone for over thirty years, hasn’t she?”
He shrugged again. “People talk...gossip is inevitable. She had an affair with a married man, a very wealthy man from the most prominent family in town. And as much as I hate the idea of anyone thinking badly of her, mud sticks. But she doesn’t seem to care. She says she wants to spend some time with her brother and mother. And I have to support her because it’s her decision.”
“She seems happy,” Connie suggested. “I mean, from an outsider’s point of view.”
“Are you an expert on happiness?”
“I like to think I live an authentic life,” she said, glancing sideways and noticing how the pulse in his jaw throbbed. “Do you?”
“Mostly. I try to always tell the truth, even when it’s hard.”
“Except to your father.”
Once the words were out, she couldn’t take them back, particularly since they sounded like an accusation.
“I’ve always been honest with J.D., so he knows exactly how I feel about him.”
Connie stared at the pulse in his cheek some more, counting as the beats increased. “Anger is a wasted emotion. So if that’s what you feel toward him, maybe it’s time you let it go. He made mistakes, but who hasn’t? None of us can change the past.”
I know that better than anyone.
“And if I said I was indifferent?”
“I wouldn’t believe you,” she replied quietly. “You’re too...intense for indifference.”
He laughed softly. “You know, it came out sounding like a compliment, but I’m sure it’s not meant to be.”
She grinned. “Maybe we bring out the worst in one another.”
“Or the best,” he said and turned onto her street. “Depending on your perspective.”
Before she had a chance to respond, he pulled up outside her house. A familiar warmth spread through her blood at the sight of the large cottage, with its wraparound porch and stained glass windows. The place had belonged to her grandparents, and now it was hers. She did her best to maintain her grandmother’s once picture-perfect garden, but mostly settled for easy-to-manage shrubs, and recently she’d added pots of chrysanthemums in vivid fall colors on the porch. Still, the old oak tree behind the white picket fence made the place look like it belonged on a postcard.
“Cute,” he said. “Exactly how I would have pictured it. I bet you have one of those kitchens with pots hanging above the stove. I’ll even bet that you make your own jelly.”
He was right on both accounts. Connie had been making her grandmother’s famous plum jam since she was a little girl. “Well, nothing wrong with being a little predictable.”
“No,” he said, his blue eyes deepening, and suddenly the space between them became intensely intimate. “Nothing wrong with that at all.”
She watched as his gaze dropped to her mouth and her lips instantly tingled. He wants to kiss me. Her belly dipped and she let out a shallow sigh. They could argue about anything and everything, they could disagree about the most basic issues, but still the attraction between them lingered, finding a life force of its own whenever it had the opportunity.
“I should...I should go. Thank you for the ride.”
Connie heard a bark, and then another. Her dogs were always on point and came rushing around from the backyard. Ruffalo, a wolfhound mix and the largest of the group, jumped up at the gate and let out a long howl.
“You seem to have plenty of protection back there.” Jonah gazed past her at the leaping dogs.
She nodded. “They look after me. Keep me safe.” She placed her fingers on the door handle and went to open the door, but he spoke again.
“Connie?”
She sucked in a breath. “Yes.”
“Have dinner with me on Friday?”
Dinner? “What? Why?”
He reached out and grasped her chin gently, his thumb scraping across her bottom lip in a way that was so sexy she could barely breathe. His gaze was dark and intense, his chest moving with every breath he took.
“Because I would like to go on a date with you.”
“To what end?”
He didn’t flinch. “To get to know you better.”
“And?”
He sighed. “And at the end of our date I would like to kiss you good-night.” His thumb moved over her mouth again, dipping slightly inside.
“And then?” she managed, wondering from where she harnessed the nerve.
He shrugged one magnificent shoulder. “And then at some point, when you’re ready, I’d very much like to make love to you.”
It was the most erotic thing anyone had ever said to her. And the fact that it was Jonah saying the words to her made the moment even more earth-shatteringly intense. She stared at his handsome face, looking for some sign that he couldn’t possibly mean it, that he was playing some kind of cruel joke, and found only hot, passionate honesty.
“I’ll be back in Cedar River on Friday,” he said and dropped his hand. “I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear shoes that you can dance in. Okay?”
