Believe in Me: A Rosewood Novel (37 page)

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.

On the other end of the patio he spotted Jordan talking to a man and a woman roughly her age. He took a moment to drink in the sight of her before joining them.

The dress she was wearing was really something. A riotous mix of purples, blues, deep reds, and shot with silvery white lines, it embraced her slender figure, accentuating the curve of her hips and breasts. She’d worn her hair down tonight, and its silky ends curled about her bare shoulders, dark red on pale ivory. She held herself well, head high, shoulders straight and proud. When he heard her laugh, he found himself wondering what it would be like to catch her laughter with a kiss and taste its sweet musical notes.

Dear Christ, he was becoming weirdly sentimental when it came to Jordan. He supposed that was permissible, as long as he remembered that in addition to wanting to drink in her laughter, he also wanted to nibble on every deliciously scented inch of her.

Crossing the patio, he watched her mouth curve in welcome. Forget the dress, it was her smile—a smile that was for him alone—that dazzled. Nice to know that he made
her happy, that he wasn’t the only one walking on cloud nine right now. And he could make her even happier once they were alone.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” she replied, her smile undiminished. “Owen, I’d like you to meet my friends, Marla and Bruce Williams. This is Owen Gage, the architect who did the renovation on Nonie’s cottage and who’s also restoring Hawk Hill, the Barrons’ old place.”

“I’m pleased to meet you,” Owen said. “I was just coming to ask Jordan if she wanted to go to the cottage and take a look at the interior. Would you like to accompany us?”

“Most definitely. I can’t wait to see how it all looks,” Marla said. “Nonie took me around the cottage before the work began, telling me all your ideas.”

“Marla’s very keen to have you come over to our place, too, and see what you can do to resuscitate its very tired interior now that our youngest child is about to leave the nest,” Bruce said.

“I’d be happy to, but it’s Jordan you want to have looking at the rooms. She’s the one who came up with the design ideas for the cottage. My firm’s just carrying them out.”

He could tell his reply had surprised Jordan as much as it had Marla and Bruce.

“My goodness, Jordan, Nonie never mentioned having spoken to you about what to do with the interior!”

Jordan made a quick recovery. “Since Owen did such a superb renovating job, I’m sure Nonie couldn’t bear the thought of having someone else work on the cottage. I’m just pleased that Nonie liked the ideas I suggested enough to use them,” she said. “I see a group over there that’s heading down to the cottage. Let’s go and take a look while the rooms are still relatively empty.”

As Marla and Bruce began walking down the narrow
flagstone path, she reached out and grazed Owen’s hand with hers. “Thank you,” she said simply.

Catching her fingers, he brought them to his lips. “You’re welcome.”

The cottage had turned out well. It would be a lovely guest house. And Marla was so excited, she again pressed Jordan and Owen to come over for drinks, pulling Jordan aside to whisper, “I’m so embarrassed about what I said that morning at Braverman’s, but I had no idea you’d given her all those ideas, Jordan. Typical Nonie stunt. But I can also see why she’d want to keep Owen Gage on retainer. He’s positively yummy. Lucky you,” she grinned.

So far Jordan had managed to avoid crossing paths with Nonie again, but unfortunately as she and Owen were leaving the cottage, she saw Nonie coming down the walkway with some other guests. Busy talking about how he’d gone about restoring the cottage’s façade with Martin Jeffries, who lived in a lovely Georgian down the road, Owen hadn’t noticed their hostess’s approach.