Believe in Me: A Rosewood Novel (27 page)

What would he do if she grabbed him right here and now in the parlor and plastered herself against him? Would his kiss pack the same volcanic heat she’d experienced before, when his muscular body was pressed urgently against hers? All were questions doomed to remain unanswered.

She wasn’t going to try anything of the sort; she wasn’t completely out of her mind. Kate and Max could easily rush in with a question or plea or simply because they were curious about Owen and already halfway to considering him
their
friend. Getting them accustomed to the fact that their daddy had a new wife was quite enough of a challenge without having to address whatever questions might arise from witnessing their new buddy Owen and Mommy locked in an embrace.

And if she’d misread that charged moment in the broodmare’s stall, if Owen had lost interest in her, well, she was pretty much responsible for that, too, wasn’t she? She’d been the one to lay down the parameters, insisting she was only interested in a professional or at most a friendly, neighborly, come-and-share-a-family-meal kind of relationship.

Boy, being reasonable and fair-minded really sucked, she reflected, knowing Jade would be immensely proud of her
for using one of her favorite words. What really and truly sucked, Jordan continued, getting into the spirit of the thing, was that no matter how neatly she rationalized the situation, she couldn’t forget Owen’s kiss and how much she wanted to have his arms around her again.

F
IONA
R
ORTY
was like perfectly chilled champagne. Crisp and elegant with just enough sparkle to make a man want to take long slow, savoring sips of her all through the night, right down to the last delicious drop.

He’d always enjoyed champagne. Yet tonight at the Grille, he found his tolerance surprisingly low. He was beginning to think that much more of Fiona would result in a very nasty headache.

Bizarre as it sounded, he wished he had a tall glass of iced tea in front of him.

Jordan Radcliffe made her tea surprisingly strong with lots of fresh mint, lemon, and cloves. The resulting brew was complex, a lot like the lady herself. Recalling the look on her face when she’d offered him a glass while he waited for her to fill out the employee tax form had his mouth curving in an unconscious smile.

She’d been in a snit, her blue eyes bright and sparkling with temper. Witness to her abrupt silence after he’d told her of his plans for the evening, it was easy to guess the cause. That she was peeved was, in his opinion, an excellent development. It meant that for all her gung ho professionalism, her interest in him went deeper than that. While he preferred to be discreet about his liaisons, he decided that maybe it was a good thing if Jordan realized he wasn’t going to sit around and pine for her. No strings on him.

The notion of Jordan miffed over his decidedly nonprofessional activities gratified him so much that he had sat down
next to Max at the long antique kitchen table and even accepted one of the carrot sticks Max pressed on him. He’d chomped along with the little boy and enjoyed the sweetness of the moment as Jordan moved about the kitchen radiating a delightful annoyance. Anger put a little zing in her step, and a snap to her movements. Gone was the woman whose every movement around the foals was perfectly controlled, as calm as a lake in summer when the wind had died with the setting of the sun.

While he’d watched her, he wondered when he’d get over how beautiful she was.

Retrieving a glass pitcher from the refrigerator and carrying it over to the table, she testily inquired if he’d like some tea.

“Well, that depends. Do I get to drink it or wear it?”

Owen’s smile widened as he remembered how the answering flash of humor in her eyes had dispelled the frostiness in them. Her lips curving in a wry smile, she said, “Please, I wouldn’t want to be considered so dull as to repeat myself.”

“Dull is not an adjective anyone would apply to you.”

He liked how pleased she was by the comment.

“For that, I won’t give you the salt to sweeten your tea,” she said.

“My stomach thanks you.”

Miriam, who had been listening to their exchange as she passed Olivia thin strips of grilled cheese to chomp on, said, “And we all know the express route to a man’s heart, don’t we?”

Jordan truly had the loveliest blush.

It occurred to Owen that he was losing count of the things he liked about her.

“So, Owen, shall we?” Fiona’s voice broke into his thoughts. In the candlelight her smile was full of anticipated pleasure. Which was fine, except that as he hadn’t been listening to a word she’d been saying, he hadn’t a clue
what she was proposing. But since they’d finished their crème brûlée and espressos and Fiona was a woman who enjoyed leisurely sex, he could hazard a guess.

“Of course,” he said.

She smiled. “I’ll just go freshen up.”

That particular line had always made him smile inwardly, summoning as it did visions of lips lush and wet with newly applied lipstick, of perfume deftly wielded, misting the shadowed valley of an already delectable cleavage, the small hollow behind the earlobes, and even, in the hands of particularly imaginative women like Fiona, the twin points of the hips.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like another espresso before we go? Perhaps a Calvados?”

She smiled at his thoughtfulness. “No, thanks. Besides, I don’t think we have time.” She reached across and tugged on his forearm to peer at his watch, letting her fingers caress the inside of his wrist, as she continued. “The second set starts at ten. Caroline promised they’d arrive early to get a good table, but I’d hate to be stuck somewhere in the back if it turns out they’re late.”

Something clicked in his brain. They weren’t going back to her apartment, but to the Blues Alley in Georgetown to listen to a Louisiana jazz quartet. They were to rendezvous with her friends Caroline and Freddy.

She stood. Automatically he rose from his chair, dizzy with something that felt absurdly like relief. Going to the nightclub was merely delaying the inevitable, but surely by the end of the jazz set he’d remember what made Fiona desirable.

The letter arrived in the afternoon mail. It was sheer chance that Jordan decided to place a large vase of irises and larkspur on the table in the foyer and so came upon the stack of bills, magazines, and catalogs, which Ellie had placed there, before her sisters returned from the Lexington
horse show. The letter was sandwiched between the electric bill and an appeal from the Nature Conservancy. Picking up the envelope addressed to her, she glanced at the embossed name in the upper left-hand corner and dropped the rest of the mail back onto the table with fingers that trembled. A quick prayer went through her that Ellie hadn’t recognized the name Upton and Crawford as the law firm Richard had retained to represent him during the divorce proceedings. Margot and Jade would have.

She held the envelope warily, as if it might sprout fangs and bite her. Whatever the letter contained, she didn’t want to deal with it. But she couldn’t put it off, either. Not knowing its contents would be even more distressing. So if she couldn’t wait until tonight when everyone was asleep, she had to take advantage of the fact that she was alone. The kids, happy and exhausted from “helping” Ned and Andy water and feed the horses, were sprawled on the sitting room sofa, watching Miss Piggy and Kermit. Andy and Ned were awaiting the van’s return, and Jordan, in an effort to help Andy secure a date with Miriam, had sent her down to the barn with a fresh pitcher of iced tea and a plate of sandwiches. Ellie had left hours ago. The letter could be read in privacy.

Far too much of her divorce had played out under her sisters’ protective eyes. That the letter would contain some sort of unpleasantness there was no doubt; Richard didn’t pay William Upton’s astronomical fees to draft notes detailing his abject remorse. It would be a relief, though, to be able to read and digest it without having Margot and Jade race to the kitchen drawer and grab the sharpest knives with which to carve out Richard’s heart.

The tearing of the envelope sounded unnaturally loud in the stillness of the late afternoon. Then Jordan was hurriedly unfolding the paper and scanning the three printed paragraphs. The tone was courteous and polite, direct, and so very reasonable. Even so, a silent cry was already being wrung from her heart.
No!

Clumsy fingers tried to shove the letter back into the envelope. Would that she could make the thing disappear entirely, light a match and stomp its ashes into the ground. But he’d be phoning upon his return from Hawaii this week and she would have to agree to or refuse his request.

Damn him for disrupting the children’s lives just when she’d managed to create a stable routine and home for them.

Her feet had already begun moving toward the sitting room where the kids were watching the movie. Never mind that Kate was at “The cat sat on the mat” stage of reading, Jordan hastily jammed the letter into her breeches pocket.

They were lined up on the yellow silk sofa, their legs sticking out like matchsticks in front of them.

“Mommy, Kermit is so funny!” Max said.

“Is he? I’m glad,” she said, swallowing the boulder-size lump in her throat that had formed at the thought of being separated from them for even a day. Would Olivia understand what was happening?

“Wanna come watch him with us?”

She nodded tightly. “There’s nothing I’d like more.”

Much as Jordan had learned to present a serene façade to the world, she also knew how to take advantage of any distraction at hand in order to deflect unwanted attention. Saturday night was easy.

Returning from the show, Margot, Jade, and Travis were tired. Tired and happy. The horses had come away with the ribbons in every class. But the day had belonged to Jade. Out of a large field, she and Aspen had captured the green working hunter champion.

“It’d have been majorly embarrassing if we didn’t ride away with the title. Aspen knew exactly what he was supposed to do in the ring. Every stride was perfect. The judges really liked him.”

Travis smiled. “Sweet William did well for Margot, too,
though we’ve got to school him over in and outs before the next show. He was a little flat over the second fence.”

“Human error. I probably dropped my hands,” Margot replied.

“Not from where I sat. It looked to me like he was rushing,” Jade said with a yawn. “I’m going to chill in front of the TV. Later, y’all.”

With Jade gone, there was no lingering over the kitchen table. The mood shifted quickly. All it took was the exchange of a glance between Margot and Travis for Jordan to breathe a deep sigh of relief. She could time it: within the space of five minutes, Margot and Travis would be upstairs in the haven of their room so she could model what was doubtless a very sexy surprise she’d picked up in New York.

Sunday might have proved more difficult dodging her sisters’ “Jordan’s an emotional wreck” radars if she hadn’t had the excuse of needing to come up with stunning designs for Hawk Hill’s kitchen and baths. A legitimate excuse, just not the one worrying her to distraction.

When Margot and Jade came into the front parlor later that afternoon, they caught her sitting on the sofa, the half-dozen kitchen design catalogs next to her forgotten as she stared pensively at Max and Kate, who were building a sprawling town out of colored blocks while Olivia chattered away to her plastic Cookie Monster figurine stuck inside Max’s fire truck.

Jade claimed her favorite spot on the chaise longue. Olivia immediately lurched to her feet and brought the fire truck over for inspection. Pushing the catalogs aside, Margot dropped onto the sofa next to Jordan. And though she’d tried, Jordan couldn’t erase the frown from her brow, for Margot said, “There’s no reason to fret your way to an ulcer, sweetie. Whoever walks into the house is going to love what you’ve done to the interior.”

“And it’s not like you have to work with a horror like
Nonie Harrison. Owen’s cool. He knows you’ll do a good job since he’s already seen the upstairs,” Jade added.

A pang of guilt pierced her at keeping them in the dark about the real reason for her preoccupation. But she needed time to think about the letter. Her sisters’ reactions she could predict. They would want her to fight Richard tooth and nail. All very well, were only she involved, but there were the children to consider. Their happiness was paramount.

“Yes, but what I did upstairs was easy. I knew my clients. Even with Nonie’s guest cottage, I could work off her tastes—questionable as they are—in order to come up with looks and styles.”

Margot picked up a catalog and leafed through it. “Did Owen give you any guidelines?”

She smiled. “He told me to think of a client like Nonie except a hundred times more finicky.”

“Ugh.” Jade scowled. “Do
not
ruin that house by thinking of her.”

“Yeah, it would destroy the feng shui.”

“But then I’m left with a big blank.”

“Wait, I know! Design the interior with Margot and Travis in mind.”

Margot lifted a brow in astonishment.

“Well, why not?” Jade said. “You guys tied the knot last year and probably want to give Olivia some cousins to boss around once she gets tired of making Cookie Monster toe the line. The rest works, too. You’re horsey and like nice things. And Travis goes for all the guy stuff—a big-screen TV and comfortable furniture. That’ll keep Jordan from making things too girlie. It’s a piece of cake.”