by Judith Yates
Jordan hadn’t thought about the event since the night he took Holly and Stephanie to the movies. “This dance is a big to-do, isn’t it?”
“It is around here. You know how the ladies are. They love a chance to get dressed up—gowns, jewelry, manicures. And of course they want the men to be in black tie,” Phil added, chuckling. “Will we see you there, Jordan? Maybe with Holly?”
The question didn’t startle Jordan as it might have a week- or so ago. The word was out in Golden. He and Holly had been seen together several times around town, and people were making whatever they wanted out of it. The old guys at the general store even razzed him about it—when they weren’t dogging him with questions about his plans for the apple plant, that is.
“I don’t think Holly and I will be going, Phil. She doesn’t seem interested.”
“I wonder why not.”
Jordan thought that was an excellent question. The reasons Holly gave that night had been on the vague side.
On the drive back to her house, Steph was surprisingly subdued. Puzzled, Jordan stole a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. The air breezing through the opened sunroof lifted and tossed her fine pale hair. Unlike before, however, she took no pleasure in it. She seemed lost in another world, and somewhat wistful, too.
Jordan didn’t know what to do.
Although he’d heard it was best not to badger kids into talking about their troubles, Jordan couldn’t stand not knowing. He felt helpless. For him, that was almost as hard to take as Stephanie’s glum face.
“Hey, Steph, why didn’t you go swimming?” he asked. “I hope it wasn’t because I couldn’t go.”
“No.” She turned to look out the side window. “I just didn’t feel like it.”
That was hard to believe. She loved the water. “Did you want to get back home to help make your curtains?”
“No.”
“Got something else you want to do this afternoon?”
“No.”
Now he understood why the experts said not to pepper kids with questions. It didn’t do any good. Casting another worried look at Stephanie, Jordan wished he knew what to say to make her feel better.
After they turned onto Old Paget Road, Stephanie finally stirred. “Jordan?”
“Yes?”
“Do you have a daddy?”
“Yeah, I do. But it’s been a few years since I called him ‘Daddy.’ He lives in Florida now.”
Leaning closer to him, she whispered, “Where’s that?”
Jordan tried to explain. He quickly discovered that a four-year-old’s grasp of geography was practically nil.
“Does your mommy live in Florida, too?”
“No, sweetheart, she doesn’t.”
“Then where does she live?”
Jordan hesitated. What did one say to a child? Glancing over at her trusting face, he decided only the truth would work. “My mom died, Steph.”
“Oh,” she crooned, tilting her head to the side in sympathy.
“It’s okay, honey. It happened a long time ago.”
With a solemn nod, she looked out her window again. Just when Jordan thought that was the end of it, Stephanie turned back to him. “My daddy died.”
His hands tightened around the steering wheel. So that’s what Holly had told her. He’d been wondering.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Steph.” It seemed inadequate, but what else could he say?
“I wish he wasn’t dead.”
Her wounded voice grabbed his heart. It hurt to hear her say the words.
At least now he had an idea why she had refused Phil Barron’s invitation. It would be Tommy and Sean’s dad playing with them in the lake, giving the best flips in the whole world. Steph would feel like the odd man out—not for the first time, Jordan was sure. That was probably why she’d wanted him to go with her.
God, he felt terrible.
“What do you think, kid?” He reached out to give her hand a squeeze. “Should I ask Mr. Barron and the boys to go swimming with us next weekend? Would you like that?”
“Yeah!” She brightened immediately. “Will you throw me in the water?”
After mastering shoulder rides and Rock and Roll Freeze, Jordan figured flipping a kid into the water should be a breeze. “I’ll give it my best shot.”
Seeing Stephanie cheerful and smiling again didn’t do much to ease his mind. Learning she’d been told her father was dead revived a worrisome question for Jordan. Was his brother, Scott, actually Stephanie’s father?
He still believed what Holly had told him the day he’d come to Golden. He had to. After the past ten days, he’d be crazy to think she’d lied. Yet once or twice, a whisper of doubt had entered his mind.
“Look, there’s Mommy,” Stephanie announced when Jordan pulled into the driveway.
Holly sat in a rocking chair on the front porch, sewing on the length of pink fabric spread across her lap. As she concentrated on her handwork, her silky hair fell around her face like a golden frame. She looked content and soft and warm. Jordan couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“Hi, Mommy,” Stephanie called as she climbed out of Jordan’s car.
Holly glanced up, her mouth breaking into a dazzling smile—a smile that reached out not only to Stephanie, but to him, as well. She put her sewing aside and came to the top of the steps to wait, arms outstretched, for her child. Sunlight filled her eyes as she watched Stephanie run to her.
Hugging Steph close, Holly sought his gaze and held it, drawing him into her warmth with a welcoming smile. Something clicked deep inside him—a faith, a hope or maybe just a dream. Whatever it was, he felt its power.
Holly made him feel as though he belonged.
In an instant, any doubt he had about her daughter’s paternity vanished. He knew Holly had told him the truth.
Chapter Nine
“You should be worried, Jordan.”
“Holly, you worry too much.”
“My livelihood’s at stake here,” she declared, glancing over at him in the driver’s seat. “Not to mention that I have to live in this town after it’s all over.”
Jordan’s eyes remained focused on the road. “We’ll handle whatever’s thrown our way,” he told her. “At CompWare, we had to deal with local governments and ordinances all the time.”
“In cities and in suburbs. You’re talking apples and oranges when you compare them with Golden.”
“Holly, have a little faith in me. Please.” Arriving at her house, he parked behind Gracie’s old sedan.
Holly sighed. Jordan still didn’t get it—even after Gabe Sawyer had advised them that a group of residents had formed a committee to fight the redevelopment of the apple packing plant. In a small town like Golden, that kind of protest often had strong and immediate impact. By the time town meeting came around, their proposed zoning changes could already be dead in the water.
Jordan walked around to open her door. “You and I were having a great time tonight until we ran into Dr. Gabe.”
“You have to stop saying his name like that,” she insisted. Yet she couldn’t prevent a smile from twitching her lips.
Jordan caught her in midgrin as he shut the door behind her. Leaning against the car with his elbow on the roof and chin in hand, he bowed his head in mock contriteness. Unable to hold the pose for long, Jordan shook his head and met her gaze with a pulse-tripping smile.
“I’ve told you—I’m jealous of him.”
The provocative gleam in his eyes made her feel weak in the knees. Tiny shocks of excitement danced along her spine, as they did whenever Jordan looked at her that way.
“Why should you be jealous?”
“Because he’s been here in Golden with you all these years.”
“As a much-needed friend.”
“And I’m jealous because he’s A-number-one in Stephanie’s book.” In a languid move, he reached out to her.
“I think you’re closing in on him there,” she replied, her voice a breathless r
asp as she anticipated his touch. Her eyelids fluttered closed as his fingertips grazed lazy figures on her bare arm.
“And because he has your complete confidence.”
Her eyes flew open. The discernible edge in Jordan’s voice was a jolting splash of cold water on all the mindlessly warm sensations swirling through her. Was Jordan hinting that she didn’t trust him enough? Or was guilt making her hear that?
Uncertain, Holly realized she’d have to take his comment at face value. “Gabe. has my confidence when it comes to what’s happening in this town. That’s why we should listen to his advice about this new protest group. We can’t afford to ignore them.”
“Of course we shouldn’t ignore them. On the other hand, I won’t pander to unreasonable demands.”
“Jordan, they haven’t made any demands—not yet, anyway.”
“Good,” he said with a laugh, cupping her shoulders with his hands. “Let’s not waste any more time talking about them or Gabe Sawyer. Or else I really will end up resenting him.”
He pulled her to him, curving his arms around her waist. Holly tilted her head back, locking her gaze with his. She found the hungering gleam still there. Shining. Intense. Irresistible...
He lowered his head slowly, drinking her in with eyes the color of the night sky overhead. Holly could scarcely breathe, but she didn’t care. His warm breath on her face as he drew closer was all the air she needed. Her hands roamed over his chest and along the steely grooves and hollows of his shoulders. She loved the solid feel of him. Curling her fingers in thick dark hair, she pulled Jordan’s mouth down on hers.
At first, his kiss was a mere brush against her lips, as if he were deliberately taunting her. A small cry of frustration hummed in her throat as she pressed her body into his. Finally, Jordan found her lips again and gave her what she desired—a deep, searing kiss.
She wanted it to go on forever. But the last shred of memory in her feverish head simply would not let go. It needled her pleasure with the nagging fears of past experience. With a moan she pulled her mouth away. “Please, I can’t—”
Keeping his arms around her, Jordan spoke her name in a breathless whisper. “Don’t run away. I’ll just hold you.”
Holly sank into his embrace, grateful he understood. But her body and mind were knotted with conflicting emotions and desires. Finally, after all these years, she wanted to be with a man. This man. Yet fear lingered in her soul. Her self-protective instincts were still strong and ever on the alert.
Resting her head on Jordan’s chest, she heard the wild pounding of his heart; she could feel his muscles tense up as he held her. “Jordan, I must be driving you crazy.”
She felt a silent laugh rumble deep in his chest. “You are.”
“If it’s any comfort to you, I’m driving myself crazy.”
“Good.” Burying his face in her hair, he whispered, “I hate being frustrated alone.”
His light touch of humor did the trick in easing the tension between them, and Holly adored him for it. “Would you like to come in for some iced tea?” she asked, not wanting to say good-night quite yet.
“If it wasn’t for the watchdog housekeeper and sleeping four-year-old you have stashed in there, that would be a dangerous invitation.”
“I know.” She tossed him a sly wink and stepped out of his embrace. “Will you come anyway?” She held out her hand.
Only a couple of lights were on in the house and Gracie was nowhere in sight. Holly heard the whirring hum of the sewing machine coming from the den. “She must be stitching up the last of Stephanie’s curtains,” she noted to Jordan before alerting Gracie to their return.
“I’ll be out as soon as I finish these up,” Gracie, called back. “Just a few more minutes.”
After pouring two tall glasses of tea, Holly suggested they take them onto the porch. It was too lovely a night to stay indoors. She and Jordan sat in relaxed silence, sipping icy tea and gazing at the stars sparkling like crystals in the sky. The only sounds intruding on their companionable peace were the slow seesawing creaks of their rocking chairs on the plank floor and the unrelenting chorus of chirping crickets.
“I saw Nancy Barron at the post office this morning,” Jordan said, breaking the silence after untold minutes. “She tried to sell me tickets to the preschool dinner dance.”
“Did she?” Holly was not surprised. “She knows I’ve been selling them at the shop.”
“I told her. So she asks—and I quote—‘Then why in the heck aren’t you taking Holly?’ ”
She stopped rocking. “What did you say?”
“That I’d take you if you wanted to go. That I’d love to, in fact.”
“Nancy shouldn’t be pestering you.”
“Holly,” he said firmly, putting his glass down on the wicker table between them. “Will you go with me to this dance? Everybody keeps telling me what a great party it is.”
“I don’t want you asking me because Nancy or anyone else says you should.”
His lips curved into a wry smile. “Do I have to kiss you again to prove how untrue that is?”
Holly felt the color rise in her cheeks. “Point taken,” she said, glancing at her hands. “But I can’t imagine why you’d want to go. You hear everybody talking about it because it’s the big date night for homebound parents of very young children. It’s not like anything you’re used to.”
Jordan shrugged. “Maybe it isn’t. Still, I can think of worse ways to spend an evening than dancing with you.”
Holly wished he’d stop saying all the right things. “Look, Jordan, I’ve never attended one of these dances, and I’m not sure I want to start.”
“Then don’t give me an answer now. Think it over for a couple of days.” After getting to his feet, he stood by her chair. “This dinner dance doesn’t mean much to me one way or the other. I thought you’d like to go.”
Moments later she watched Jordan drive away, glad he hadn’t asked for an explanation, sorry that she hadn’t tried to offer one. Yet how could she put her reasoning into words without sounding foolish and overly sensitive?
Gracie came onto the porch, sweater over her shoulders, tote bag in hand. “The curtains are done. We can hang them tomorrow.”
Holly had forgotten Gracie was still there. “You didn’t have to stay so late, you know. I could have finished the sewing tonight.”
“Well, I knew you had a visitor.” Gracie nodded at Jordan’s empty glass on the wicker table. After a moment’s hesitation, she sat in his chair and looked into Holly’s eyes. “Why didn’t you accept Mr. Mason’s invitation?”
“Were you listening to us?”
“Well, I was getting my sweater and my bag and the living-room windows were open,” Gracie explained with a sheepish shrug. “I couldn’t help overhearing.”
“No wonder you were in there so long.”
“So. Tell me,” Gracie continued, ignoring Holly’s remarks. “Why are you pussyfooting around about going to the dinner dance? The man asked you. Why won’t you go?”
The irony was laughable. Jordan hadn’t asked for an explanation, yet Gracie was demanding one. “You want me to go with Jordan?”
“I want you to go, period.” She slapped her hand on the table. “You hardly take any time for yourself. When you’re not working, you’re with Stephanie. When you’re not with Stephanie, you’re working.”
“I love running the shop. And I want to be with my daughter as much as I can.”
“You also deserve to enjoy your youth. Get all dolled up. Dance with a handsome man. Have a little fun for a change.”
“You’re making me feel like a drudge, Gracie.”
Gracie rolled her eyes. “Let me help you fix that. I’ll be available to baby-sit for Stephanie on. the night of that dance. Just say the word.”
Holly sold the last of the preschool dinner-dance tickets on Monday morning. Removing the sales poster from the shop window, she felt dejected and as wary as ever. It had been three days since Jord
an had asked her to the dance, and she still hadn’t given him an answer.
Holly recognized something more was holding her back than the outright avoidance of the dinner dance she’d practiced in years past. Maybe it had something to do with the way Jordan’s “courting” had snuck up on her. Now any day that he was not around felt empty. How could that have happened so fast?
Even more, Jordan had awakened longings and desires that had been lost deep inside her for years. Yet as his kisses deepened and his embraces intensified, Holly struggled to keep certain fears at bay. It was a fight she didn’t feel she was winning.
Opening herself up to the vulnerabilities of a new, romantic relationship was tougher than she could have imagined. Holly had gotten by on her own just fine after Stephanie was born. She didn’t have to worry about pleasing anyone; she didn’t have to anticipate disappointment. Now, however, the questions, the doubts, just kept coming at her, fast and furious.
At times, she could think of nothing else but Jordan. More than once, Holly found herself wondering if she, like the rehab of the apple packing plant, was a diversion for the current lull in Jordan’s life. Or was he paying attention to her out of a misplaced sense of guilt because of the way his brother had jilted her?
But the ultimate, painful question was how to tell Jordan that Scott was. Stephanie’s father. Now that they were drawing closer, the truth was critically important to explain, yet more difficult to reveal.
Later that same day, Holly’s father called her at the store—something he’d never done in all her years in Golden. “Dad, is something wrong? Are you all right?”
“I was as fine as could be expected, until I received a letter from Lawrence Mason’s wife.”
“Rachel?” Holly’s breath caught in her throat. “Why did she write to you?”
“Because she thinks it would do Lawrence good to hear from me.”
