Believe in Me: A Rosewood Novel (18 page)

He
certainly wasn’t laboring under any such difficulty. She could have been a dust mote for all the attention he paid her. He hadn’t seemed to think she was so uninteresting or uninspiring, so totally invisible, when they’d been in her room. The man obviously had the memory of a gnat, while hers unfortunately functioned all too well. She could still recall the warm weight, the exquisite pressure of his lips moving over hers, and, when their bodies met, the heart-stopping solidity of his erection. Try as she might to be blasé, it was impossible to get past the fact that a short while ago she’d kissed this man and he’d had an erection for her.

The nerve of him to claim that it was
only
a kiss they’d shared. Or that if she wanted to do it again, he might be willing to oblige? An arrogant oaf, that’s what he was—

“Yo, Jordan, earth to Jordan,” Jade’s voice broke into her thoughts.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“Maybe you’ve tossed the berries enough now, sweetie,” Margot said, looking at her curiously.

She stared down at the ceramic bowl in front of her,
realizing belatedly that she was holding the serving spoons in a death grip and that the fruit salad of blackberries, blueberries, and kiwis that she’d prepared were indeed looking a little worse for wear. “I drizzled a pomegranate and citrus sauce over the fruit. It needs to be well mixed,” she said, so Owen wouldn’t think she was abusing blueberries over him.

Margot offered a plate of lemon squares that Jordan had baked to Owen. “So how long do you think it will take to restore Hawk Hill?”

“A few months at most. Luckily the house isn’t in too terrible shape structurally, and I have an excellent crew, and the electrician and plumber I use are set to go. Kitchens and baths always take the longest in a renovation, so the sooner I can get Jordan’s ideas on cabinets, counters, appliances, bathtubs, fixtures, etcetera, the better. The key to keeping on schedule is to avoid lag time for the construction crew.”

It was good the kids had fallen asleep so quickly tonight, she thought. She was going to have to start scouring design sites.

“And what about the barn in back of the house? Is that in decent condition?” Margot asked.

“I haven’t really bothered to check it out too closely, but I assume it won’t be difficult to convert into a garage.”

An appalled silence met his casual answer. Jordan told herself that she was pleased her family was at long last taking a more critical view of their dinner guest. Until now they had struck her as far too accepting: after riding Mistral, Travis had taken Owen on a tour of the barns to show him the horses, introducing him to Ned, Tito, and the other guys. And while she’d been feeding and bathing the children, Margot had shown him the other rooms in the house. It was all a little too chummy for Jordan’s taste.

The silence around the table lengthened, stretching uncomfortably. Owen broke it with a cough that to Jordan’s ears sounded more like a strangled laugh. “Then again, maybe I won’t be turning the barn into a garage.”

“Good call. You nearly risked getting tossed out of here on your ear,” Jade said. “Turn a horse barn into a garage? Are you totally nuts?”

“Jade, if you could avoid being rude to a guest—”

“I’d say we have an obligation to inform Owen he’s totally gonzo if he thinks he can sell Hawk Hill without its barn being restored as a horse barn and not some stupid shack for a BMW.” Turning to Travis who was seated next to her, she said, “Aren’t I right, Travis? And could you snag me another lemon square while you’re at it?”

“I think I’m supposed to offer them to our guest first. Here, Owen. Better take a second one now, before the kid inhales the whole plateful. With respect to Hawk Hill, I have to agree with Jade. I can’t imagine anyone being serious about purchasing a property like Hawk Hill if it didn’t have the added value of a modernized barn.”

“Yeah, ’cause in case you hadn’t noticed this is
horse
country, dude,” Jade pronounced triumphantly as she took a huge bite of her lemon square.

“Thanks for the news flash,” Owen replied.

To his credit, he didn’t seem terribly taken aback by Jade’s attitude. Jordan guessed it was only little children who scared the daylights out of him.

“I did notice that Rosewood’s barns are almost as impressive as this house,” he continued mildly. “Could it be possible I’m hearing from a biased constituency?”

“Guilty as charged,” Travis said. “So you should ask Jordan. She doesn’t have a biased bone in her body, does she, Margot?”

“Jordan’s definitely the fairest of us all.”

“Yeah, she only tosses her iced tea at people who really deserve it,” Jade chimed in, snorting with amusement.

Jordan’s face flamed as all eyes turned to her. She even felt the weight of Owen’s gaze on her. Of course it would be
now
that he’d decide to look at her. And she was pretty sure she’d caught him smiling into his dessert plate when
Margot said that nonsense about her being the fairest. She supposed she should be grateful he hadn’t fallen out of his chair laughing. Fairest was not the word that came to mind when in the presence of Margot and Jade. Try plain as vanilla ice cream (which she happened to love), boring. Those terms fit to a T. If only everyone would hurry up and finish dessert, she would have an excuse to clear the plates and stay in the kitchen until her flaming cheeks cooled.

“So what’s the verdict, Jordan? Barn or dumb garage for city folk?”

There were times when she was sorely tempted to suggest Jade put a sock in it. “You and Travis are right. If Hawk Hill were closer to town, like the Harrisons’ Overlea, the lack of a barn wouldn’t matter. But someone buying out here will presumably be interested in what the open country offers, and in Warburg that means either fox hunting or hacking over fields and trails. The horse barn should be renovated.”

Owen inclined his dark head as if her opinion alone was enough to convince him. “There’s only one hitch. I don’t know anything about barn design.”

“That’s easily solved,” Margot said. “Come and look at ours. Travis and Ned can give you tips on the best designs, too, can’t you, hon?”

For a woman who valued her privacy more than most, Margot was being unusually friendly. Jordan could only conclude that Owen must have been at his most charming while Margot was showing him the house, except that Margot wasn’t the type to be easily snowed, and Jade even less so. The teen had an ultra-sensitive BS meter. Even more baffling, though, was that Travis seemed to like him, and Owen didn’t even ride.

It occurred to Jordan that perhaps the three of them were being gracious to him because of her, that they believed something might be brewing between them. Or, worse still, that they
wanted
something to develop.

If so, how embarrassing to be the object of their matchmaking.
Couldn’t they see that Owen was all wrong for her? A pretty big clue was that he was a womanizer. On top of that, he seemed positively allergic to children.

“I might just take you up on that offer,” Owen said to Margot. “Coming over here and studying the layout of your barns would be a nice way to finish off a day’s work at Hawk Hill.”

Her fingers suddenly nerveless, Jordan’s fork landed on her plate with a loud clatter. “
You’re
going to be working at Hawk Hill? As in a physical presence there?” she asked, feeling all the self-consciousness of a teenager at pronouncing the word
physical
. The man had the worst effect on her. Surely by now she should have been able to shake the memory of his body pressed against hers.

Wasn’t this interesting, Owen thought. A good three hours and change had elapsed since Jordan had addressed more than four words to him. Since the deceptively simple kiss they’d shared, one that packed enough heat to fry one’s mind, she had been doing her best to ignore him.

To be honest, he’d been relieved to step back and distance himself, at least until he was satisfied he was completely over the kiss. But hours had passed and he had yet to forget a single second of it, or the way she’d felt in his arms. So he took a certain satisfaction in letting Jordan know that he was very much going to be around Hawk Hill.

“I’ve developed a habit of living in the houses I’m restoring. It allows me to get a real feel for period details so that the restoration work is as authentic as possible. It’s more convenient, too. I can work on the house at pretty much any time I want, day or night. I like that kind of flexibility.”

Jordan seemed to have lost the capability of speech. Not so her sisters.

“Isn’t that rather unusual?” Margot asked. “What happens when they’re working on the kitchen and baths?”

“Like, don’t you make enough to afford a house of your own? Sis, you’d better make sure he doesn’t stiff you.”

“Living in a house while I’m restoring it may be a bit unorthodox, but it works for me. That’s the bonus of being the head of your own firm. I get to do what I want.”

As he answered Margot and Jade’s questions, he was aware of Jordan’s continued silence. He’d really thrown her for a loop this time. Good. What in hell was wrong with her that she would decree a ban on any future kisses? A pleasure of that magnitude deserved to be explored to its very limits. But not according to Ms. Jordan Radcliffe …

A prude, that’s what she was.

She didn’t kiss like a prude, a niggling voice reminded Owen.

No, damn it, she didn’t. She kissed with a sweet sinfulness that had made him go hard and aching the instant her lips parted for him. He hadn’t been that turned on by a kiss since he was … that he couldn’t remember that far back was one more reason to be aggravated by her irrational dictates. And if she kissed like that, he could only imagine how responsive she would be when she made love. He took a long sip of ice water to cool his thoughts.

“So where do you live, when you’re not working on a house?”

“I have an apartment over the firm’s office in Alexandria.”

“And your family’s from Virginia originally?”

Careful as he was to avoid entanglements, being subjected to the third degree was for him as novel an experience as meeting the family of one of his lovers. Since he wasn’t even involved with Jordan, Margot’s grilling both amused and exasperated.

Her sisters and her brother-in-law had clearly appointed themselves Jordan’s protectors. Even the old gent, Ned Connolly, who Owen gathered was Rosewood Farm’s second-in-command, had given him the distinct impression that he would come after him with a pitchfork if he gave Jordan a second’s distress.

It was interesting that none of them seemed to realize that Jordan was very much a grown woman. But while Owen’s parents might have been better at raising dachshunds or growing orchids, they hadn’t produced a total fool. He wasn’t going to rile the Rosewood clan or mess with any of them individually. Travis Maher looked more than capable of going at it hammer and tongs; Jade would probably slash his tires. He couldn’t guess how Margot would retaliate, but something warned him to underestimate her at his peril. If she wanted to do a background check, he’d provide a few answers.

“I don’t really have a family home. My father’s a career diplomat in the Foreign Service, so my parents are what you’d call permanent ex-pat nomads.”

“Oh. Where are they now?”

“Warsaw.”

“Wow. Cool.”

Owen smiled at Jade. “They like the life.”

“So you must’ve traveled around a lot growing up.”

“Yeah, quite a bit.”

“That would definitely be cool,” Jade repeated. “I’d be totally into saying ‘sayonara’ to my fellow inmates at Warburg High right now. They’re all either loser dweebs or evil, vicious, and malicious bit—”

Jordan seemed to have recovered from the shock of hearing he’d be at Hawk Hill on a daily basis and jumped into the conversation before her kid sister could finish that particular declaration. “So, Jade, I was at Steadman’s today. I gave Adam your chaps. He’s going to have Brian call you tomorrow as soon as they’re ready so you can pick them up. I wouldn’t call Brian a loser dweeb—”

“Definitely not,” Margot chimed in. “And he’s a good rider, isn’t he, Travis?”

Owen had already witnessed how seriously they took anything related to horses and riding. Leaning against the rail of the outdoor riding ring, he’d watched a scene that
might be nothing more than routine to this family, but that possessed the marvel of an equestrian circus fused with the disciplined movements of the cavalry. At Owen’s end of the ring, Jordan’s little boy bounced around and around on a shiny dark bay pony that was attached to a long longe line, a beatific expression illuminating his freckled face as he followed Jade’s instructions. The girl, Kate, stood beside her, a pigtailed version of her aunt’s utter seriousness. Her little face was a study in concentration, as if she were memorizing her aunt’s every instruction to her brother in preparation for her own lesson. It stunned him that for the half hour of Max’s lesson, Kate never fidgeted or whined that it was her turn to ride.

When Max’s jouncing grew too painful to watch, Owen let his gaze stray to the others. Here was a lesson to be learned: if you started bouncing in the saddle at about Max’s age and somehow survived irreparable damage, you might, if you were very lucky, end up being able to sit a horse like Margot Radcliffe or Travis Maher.

Of course, the real trick would be to ride beautifully and fluidly with a maniac toddler clasped in front of you. The incumbrance daunted neither Margot nor her husband. They took turns passing Olivia between them whenever they slowed their horses to a walk. The maneuver was done with the ease of long-standing habit, this equestrian method of babysitting clearly as natural to them as cantering over the brightly painted jumps positioned around the center of the ring. Owen bet they’d have been equally able to make a circus act out of it, tossing Olivia from one rider’s lap to the next, the toddler chortling with fearless glee as she flew through the air.

Travis nodded in response to Margot’s question. “Brian’s got serious talent. He did really well at the horse trails at Crestview last month. He and Castlerock won the crosscountry and came in third overall.”