Hidden Shadows (The Shadow Series Book 1) (14 page)

Plus, it seemed rude and a little presumptuous to bring a weapon in to someone’s home without their permission or awareness. At least overnight.

But it’d been instinct that had him grabbing the pistol as they pulled up to the mess at Jenna’s. Second nature to slip his hand under the seat, tuck the .45 in the back of his jeans as he assessed the situation.

The boy’s flashlight he’d grabbed as they entered the house had been as much an additional weapon for him as it had been to assure Jenna, but the bulk of his security had come from the cool metal resting near his spine.

He considered bringing it in for the evening, telling Jenna he had it, was licensed to carry it and so on, but again, why give her more to worry on?

He figured he already had a mountain to climb in convincing her of his plans to stay; he didn’t think adding an armed man to the mix would weigh in his favor.

He curved around the living room to her bedroom, saw the door was half-open.

He knocked, pushed it the rest of the way as she called, “Come on in,” and tried not to let his mouth fall open.

She stood, her back to him, robed in silky white that floated over curves to skirt at the middle of her thighs. Her legs were smooth, skin looking as silky as the robe.

Something about the casualness, her bare feet, the flowing material, made him notice—and appreciate—her shapely legs even more than he had in the sexy black number.

Her toenails were colored a deep red and something about that made him smile. Made his blood pump, too. It reminded him of her somehow, dark, sexy with a little fire and mystery.

She smiled over her shoulder as she tucked away folded clothes in a drawer. “Just putting up some laundry. Silly, but it makes me feel calm to do something normal.”

“Normal can be good.”

On a sigh, she turned, and revealed, if possible, more beauty. Her make-up had been removed. Her hair was bound back in a swinging dark mass. The silky white turned to blue lace at its edges, and the color magnified the same shade in her eyes.

He knew he was about to stammer, couldn’t help himself. “I, uh . . . came in here to tell you something. Can’t seem to remember it now though." He let his eyes travel over her, not attempting to hide his approval.

“Oh.” She puffed a breath, swept the strands of hair that habitually fell in her eyes aside. “No need for compliments now. Date's over.”

He frowned, crossed to her, and gently gripped her shoulders. “Stop that. You are beautiful. And I deserve more credit than that.”

She blushed deeply, lowered her eyes to the floor. But he stood firm, willing her to accept his sincerity.

“Why won’t you take my compliments?”

“Why are you giving them? Why are you doing any of this?”

“I want to. I like you. If that isn’t already incredibly obvious.”

Her shoulders relaxed under his palms and on a sigh she met his eyes. “I’m sorry. Work in progress, remember? Thank you for the compliment. If I had known this would impress you, I wouldn’t have worked so hard earlier.” She grinned, stepped back and did a little shimmy.

Because that twisting body invited him to reach out and grab it, he shoved a hand in his pocket, tried a grin that didn’t reveal his restraint. “Note it for next time.”

She laughed. “So noted.” Looking past him, she inclined her head to the adjoining bathroom. “I saw you outside. I really appreciate you looking at the windows."

“No problem. Quick fixes. They’ll hold for the night. You’ll need to get someone out here to replace them soon, I’d think.”

She nodded, and he watched as sadness and exhaustion rushed back in, stiffening her shoulders again, taking the light from her eyes.

“I’m sorry about your work, too.”

“My work?”

“You came here, took time, and I don’t even want to think about how much money in equipment, labor, to do something incredibly generous for me. And now it’s gone."

He lifted a shoulder. “Flowers can be replaced at a lot less of an expense and hassle than a vehicle.”

“Now who’s the one not taking a compliment?”

He smiled, held up his palms to face her. “Taken. Appreciated.”

She grabbed one of his hands, stepped forward so there were only inches between them. “You do deserve more credit, Ben. You’ve done so much, gone so out of your way for me.”

“I’ve been around the block, met a woman or two. I know a good one when I see her. One worth taking time for. Going after.”

Before he could finish, she was on her toes, grabbing his arms and planting her lips on his.

The sensuality, the softness in the kiss, in the body pressed to his, had him hungering for more.

Her tongue stroked his, felt like the silk beneath his hands. His knees went soft, his head light. His hands moved, explored, found the tumble of hair and tangled there.

A moan escaped her lips, sent his hunger to the point of starving.

He longed to fall into the inviting bed beside them.

Just as he was about to pull her down—how much longer would his legs support him anyway?—she pulled away, moved to the bed herself.

“I decided something, by the way, while you were outside.” She paused, he swallowed. “I’d like for you to stay tonight, if the offer still stands.”

He tried to control his breathing, tried not to sound as dopey and pre-pubescent as he felt. “Still stands. Don’t know how much longer I will though, you kiss me like that again.”

“You’d better sit down then, get some rest. You’ve had a long day too.”

Suddenly, before he even knew what hit him, Jenna had reached behind her, grabbed a stack of linens at the foot of the bed, and was ushering him to the door.

While he stared at her, trying to make sense of what just happened, she smiled sweetly. “Thank you for offering to stay. I think you’ll find the couch quite comfortable.” She deftly transferred the pile to his arms, patted the top down.
“You didn’t think I was
that
off the market, did you?"

And with that, and a wink, she pushed the door closed, unbelting her robe just as it shut with a snap.

This time, Ben did let his mouth fall open.

When he finally turned to make his way to the quite comfortable couch, he found himself smiling, muttering, “But you are off the market . . .”

TEN

“Mama!” Dawson ran, squealing, right into Jenna’s open arms. Steps behind him, Jacy waved excitedly and grabbed her bags from Keith's car before skipping over.

During the week with their father—and thank heavens he’d kept them—Jenna had taken the break to reorder and resituate so the kids were none the wiser.

It had taken a half hour of convincing, bargaining, and downright begging, but Keith and Susan had finally committed to keep Jacy and Dawson longer than the every-other-weekend the parenting plan instructed. Apparently, the cozy couple had plans they’d acted like it’d be the end of the world to cancel or delay.

Aside from that (typical) frustration, it had actually worked out for the best, if there could be a ‘best’ in a situation like this. Since neither Jacy nor Dawson had seen the new car or the work Ben had done to the front of the house, Jenna wouldn't be fielding questions from curious minds. As it stood, she didn’t have much explaining to do about the rental car except to say that Mom’s car was in the shop getting worked on——which was true, in a way.

She was betting on the surprise she had in store to boost all their spirits.

And who was she to argue if it also decreased any interest on what Mom had been doing all week?

Glancing in the rearview mirror, Jenna smiled, happy to see the backseat occupied again. While it had been helpful not to have the kids underfoot while dealing with insurance calls, police paperwork, and window estimates, not to mention the actual clean-up of all the mess, she’d missed her little guys.

As she rolled to a stop at a red light, she looked back again, casually announced, “We’re going over to Robin and Erik’s for dinner tonight."

A yelp from Dawson, a grin from Jacy.

“We’ll have hamburgers, hotdogs, Robin’s yummy lemonade. You guys can play. Mr. Ben’s coming, too.”

“Mr. Ben! Fun, fun, fun,” Dawson sang as he tossed a Yoda ball back and forth in his hands.

“Jacy, do you know Mr. Ben, Dawson’s karate teacher?”

Jacy nodded. “He’s talked to me when I’ve got Dawson from class before. And I’ve seen him around after dance. I saw him that day he was working across the street. When Dawson ran away.”

“I did not run away!”

“You left the yard. Without Mom’s permission.”

“Mommy,” Dawson whined, “I didn’t run away.”

“No baby, you didn’t run away. But stop whining. And Jacy, don’t pester.”

Dawson heaved his ball at the floor, Jacy crossed her arms over her chest. And that was that, Jenna thought. Announcement made, news given, secret out: Ben was joining the crew, a new face in their familiar lineup.

And leave it to the kids to turn what she was anticipating to be a bold declaration into a petty argument. She’d been nervous about Ben’s addition to the evening, anxious about what the kids’ reactions would be.

While she fully realized she was the adult, and had never been the kind of parent to let her kids run the show, she also always tried to take their feelings into consideration.

Bringing in anyone new to their lives, especially through her dating, warranted particular care and concern to Jenna’s mind.

She was sensitive to their feelings, respectful of apprehension to change, wariness of upheaval. They’d already had their fair share of it to be so young.

So she’d planned to tell the news about Ben as nonchalantly as possible, and see what happened. Test their opinions, watch their reactions.

Apparently, her guest at tonight’s cookout was pretty anticlimactic. Even positive and exciting for Dawson.

Feeling confident about how well that went over, Jenna pulled in the garage, helped unstrap belts, open doors, gather belongings. And was tickled when her surprise was right on cue as both kids hopped through the door.

Dawson’s eyes went round, Jacy’s little brows winged up, and they both froze, whipped around to their mother as the chirping continued, grew louder.

“Mommy, what is that?” Dawson asked in whispered wonderment.

Jenna shrugged casually. “Guess you’ll have to go find out.”

He set off at breakneck speed with Jacy on his heels.

“A bird! A bird! We’ve got a bird!”

Jenna chuckled as she dumped her load of bags in the laundry room, rounded into the living room where two over-excited children and one probably wary bird, chirped.

Dawson jumped up and down, chanting the obvious over and over again—“A bird, a bird!”—while Jacy circled the cage with interest.

“It’s a parakeet, Dawson,” Jenna explained, walking to his side. “And let’s not scare him.”

“Is it our Parakeet?”

“That depends.”

“On what?” Jacy wondered, as she and the bird watched each other.

“On you.” Jenna placed a calming hand on Dawson’s bouncing head, sat in her favorite oversized chair with its blue and white ticking stripes. "He gets hungry and thirsty, just like us, so he’ll have to be fed and watered every day. And he’ll need attention and love, someone to talk to and play with. He can't be ignored or forgotten. He has to be part of the family.” She looked back and forth between both her children. “Do you think you’re up for that?”

Jacy nodded earnestly; Dawson jumped in the air with his arms held high, “YES!”

“Okay then,” Jenna smiled, “he’s yours.”

Dawson put his face up to the cage, beamed. “You’re ours, bird!”

Crinkling her nose, Jacy decided, “He needs another name besides bird.”

“I agree,” Jenna nodded. “What’s it going to be?”

“Luke!” Dawson burst.

Jacy narrowed her eyes, shook her head firmly.

“Chewy!”

Another scowl, this one so prim and authoritative (and uncomfortably familiar), Jenna had to suppress a giggle.

“He’s beautiful and needs a beautiful name,” Jacy said wistfully, watching the brightly colored budgie hop from one perch to another. "What about Perry?”

“Perry the Parakeet,” Jenna considered. “Sounds perfect to me.”

Dawson’s shoulders shrunk, but he mumbled, “I guess.”

“Will he always be here, in the cage?”

Her sweet, tenderhearted girl. “Not always. Some days, we’ll let him enjoy the sun and air, put his cage on the shady porch. When he’s inside, he can either play in his cage, or we can get him out and play with him.”

Dawson perked up again. “We can?”

Jenna nodded. “We’ll have to give him a few days, let him get comfortable with us. He needs to know we’re not here to hurt him and that we love him. So," she scooted closer to the table where Perry’s cage rested, eyed the beautiful creature with its lime body and bright yellow head, “when we come up to him, let's talk quietly and calmly. Let him know we’re glad he’s ours.”