Authors: Renee Simons
"But what if...?" She halted in mid-sentence, blushing as she realized how callous her next words would have sounded.
"...I don't make it back?" Conlon shrugged. "Then the rest will die with me."
"All right. We'll leave it alone for now."
"You have your father's quality of acceptance."
"No. I'm just smart enough to know when a person has been pushed as far as he'll go."
"Has
Caldwell
been pushed that far?"
"What does that mean?"
"You said you had a dinner date. He couldn't have been happy about your breaking it to be with me."
"I guess not, but he didn't have much choice."
"I'd resent that if I were in his shoes. I wouldn't want to share you with anyone."
She blushed again. "It isn't like that."
"Aren't you and he lovers?"
Her body stiffened. "That’s none of your business."
"Why haven't you become lovers?" he persisted. "You must feel something for him. Or you wouldn't have involved yourself in this whole mess. What's causing you to hold back? You could do worse, you know. I worked with him. He's a fine man - strong and steady, loyal almost to a fault, and I would think women find him attractive enough..."
"You sound like a damned dating service. He doesn't need you to speak for him."
"Then what is it? Something left over from the bad time you had?"
"I didn't push you. Don't do it to me." This time, she did nothing to hide her anger. Her voice shook with it.
"I just want you to have what every woman should - a husband, a home, kids. What's wrong with that? It's what Dutch would have wanted for you."
She glared at him. "Don't try standing in for my father. I haven't needed either one of you for a very long time." She left him sitting in the booth and walked out. He followed close behind her.
"What did I say, Jordy?" He put a hand on her arm. "Tell me?"
"Don't call me that. She's some other person in some other life, a child who died the day those animals kidnapped her and who was buried beside her father. The woman I am can never have any of the things you envision - because of Dino and Tony Vee and because of Dutch. Because of men like you."
She turned on her heel and walked away, ready to find a cab, but something caused her to turn. Conlon stood watching her with an expression more like contrition than anger. She couldn't have said why, but she walked back and kissed him on the cheek.
"Take care of yourself. I want you to come back."
He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly to him. "You are my best friend's precious daughter and you have been terribly wronged. I'll be back. Then you and I will make them pay."
Jordan
returned to a darkened house, welcoming the private time after her upsetting encounter with Terence. She brewed tea. With shoes in one hand and a steaming mug in the other, she padded into the library. Wishing for a fire to take out whatever chill the tea missed, she moved to the leather sofa, only to find Ethan already there, deep in thought.
"Hi. What are you thinking about?"
Ethan had been staring at the empty fireplace, arguing with himself. Keeping
Jordan
at arm’s length had become increasingly more difficult. He was close to telling her exactly how he felt, despite his promise to both of them not to.
He felt her slip into the corner of the couch opposite him and fold her legs beneath her. She sat quietly, neither moving nor speaking, but she filled the entire room with her presence.
Dreading the way the first sight of her always sent him into turmoil he glanced over, taking in her image in small, manageable doses. His gaze traveled from her hair falling in honeyed waves about her face, to her lips as they touched the cup, sipping at some steaming liquid - tea, he supposed - to her eyes with their worried weariness, to her cheek, pale as it was so often lately. Damn, he swore silently.
"What are you thinking about?" she repeated.
"How tired and worried you look these days. How you always seem worse when you come back from your meetings with him."
"Want some?" she asked, holding out the cup. "It's hot tea."
"Don't change the subject."
"He likes you. Thinks you're a fine man."
"Uh huh."
"He can't understand why we aren't lovers."
That made him smile. "The bloke might get on my right side after all, though I can't say it's any of his business."
"He seems to have taken a fatherly interest in me."
"The last thing you need is a father."
"I agree."
"So what do you feel toward him?"
"Sometimes I forget all the rotten things he’s done and I almost like him, but don't read anything into our relationship that isn't there." She took a sip.
"Don't you let yourself be taken in by the man. I tell you he's not to be trusted. Not too long ago, you felt the same distrust. Have you forgotten?"
"I remember."
"Do you need to meet with him so often?"
A tiny smile flickered at the corner of her mouth. "Are you jealous?"
He took a breath. "How do you expect me to answer that? If I say yes you'll think I'm an immature jerk. If I say no you'll think I don't care. And though I've kept silent about my feelings for you, I do care. More than you know. Seems to me that either way I'm left holding the short end."
"Tell me," she prompted softly. "I need to know."
"What’s changed?"
"I have."
His heart pounded in his chest as he stared intently into her eyes. She gazed back at him without turning away. He thought maybe he could tell her.
"All right," he said, though exposing his feelings made him uncomfortable. He took a long time to gather his thoughts into something that made sense. "When we’re together it’s all I can do to keep from sweeping you up in my arms and carrying you off to bed. When we’re apart I think of you - how you look and sound, your scent, the way you walk..." He ran a finger down her arm as it lay stretched along the back of the sofa. "It seems like you're with Conlon a lot lately and sometimes it's tough to remember why. I feel as though I'm losing you, which is stupid, 'cause you can't lose what you've never had. I'm not sure if that's jealousy, but whether it is or isn't, it feels like bloody hell."
Jordan
turned her hand palm up and twined her fingers through his, strengthened by his touch. "He’s tied up with a past I'm trying to reconcile and file away under finished business. He has answers I need, so it's vitally important for me to work with him. Can you understand that?"
"No." Ethan looked at her for a long time, then pulled her into his arms for a long, probing kiss that sent heated blood spinning through her veins and started a slow, sensuous writhing in that place she had denied for so long but which she could no longer ignore.
She was barely breathing, it seemed, when he finally released her. "Don't understand it, don't like it, not at all, but after that kiss, I’m willing to give it a go."
* * *
Jordan
woke to the sound of voices drifting up from the garden. Turning on her side, she drew up the covers and let herself drift off again until the conversation cut through her dozing.
"Smoking is bad for you, big brother."
"Is that why you asked Mrs. Willis to serve breakfast out here? So you could have at me?"
"It's time we talked, Andy, and I don't expect it'll be easy. I figured talking outside would force us to keep this civil."
They lowered their voices and she sank back into sleep. Happy they were talking, she didn't need to hear what they said. Maybe that's why she felt so disappointed at waking again to the low rumble of barely controlled anger.
"How could you think those letters would substitute for your being there?" Ethan asked. "I would read them aloud while he hid behind his paper, pretending not to care and she wiped away her tears with those frilly little handkerchief things she loved. When what they both wanted was to hear your news from your own lips."
"No one's figured out how to be in two places at once," Drew countered.
"You could've rung us up. That would've been something at least."
"I did." Drew spoke softly but emotion vibrated behind each word. "More than once - only to have the phone slammed down in my ear."
"What the bloody hell are you saying?"
"I'm saying that when I called and our father answered, he hung up without letting me speak. When our mother answered, at least she listened before hanging up with a 'sorry, you have the wrong number.' After a year, I stopped calling."
"Geez, Andy, they never said anything about the calls."
"You weren't meant to know."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"It does if you know why I didn't go with the family."
"Why?"
"I attended university on a full scholarship based on academic merit and financial need. I qualified for assistance as an independent student because I received no monetary support from my family."
"Dad wouldn't help you with your tuition?"
"He refused to acknowledge me as his son. He returned all letters and applications unanswered."
"Why?"
"I didn't fit the image he considered appropriate to a firstborn male of the
Caldwell
clan. He hated my clothes, my friends, my need to speak out on issues I believed important. Most of all, he hated what he euphemistically called my 'alternative lifestyle.' When I decided to major in literature instead of engineering, he refused to back me.
"The scholarship and work study got me through. The hard part came when he froze me out of the family. To keep me from being an unhealthy influence on you. I couldn't fight him, not back then..."
"This alternative lifestyle - didn't mean you were a hippie."
Drew chuckled. "No Ethan, not a hippie."
She didn't have the heart to listen further. Instead, she slipped out of bed and into the bathroom to shower and dress for the day.
Finally, she headed for the patio, nearly colliding with Drew, who’d just cleared the open French doors. He grabbed her hand and kissed it.
"Thank you for bringing about a reconciliation with Ethan. You have returned my family to me." Before she could protest, he was gone.
She joined Ethan. "Why was he in such a hurry?"
"All the police activity is driving our sedate neighbors bonkers. He’s repairing community relations." Ethan raised the china pot. "Tea?"
"Yes, thanks."
"We talked," Ethan said. "Trying to work out the problems, to figure out which ones are ours and which we inherited from others."
"He was ecstatic, so I guess it went well?"
"How does a peace treaty sound?" he asked.
"As a little girl I thought that if I had a sister, she'd be my best friend. That's all I want for the two of you."
Terence had spoken similar words to her. Now, she, too understood what it meant to care enough about someone to want good things for them.
"I'm glad," she said. "For all of us."
Mrs. Willis came out and handed her a small package. "This just came for you, miss."
She tore at the brown paper wrapping. "Is this from either of you?"
When she opened the box, the answer was obvious. Nestled in the bottom lay a mate to the first black leather wallet and a silver and gold shield with a badge number preceding her father's by one digit.
Confused, she unfolded the note that lined the box. "Keep this for me till I get back," it said. It had been signed with a large, gracefully formed T.