Sarah’s tears multiplied as she watched the relief and happiness flood Dottie’s expression. No one had suffered as much as Dottie, not seeing her father for so long. Henry had missed so much.
“I need to stop crying. My husband’s coming home.”
“Momma, I’m going to go do my chores with the sheep.” Dottie was already pulling on her coat and boots. Sarah knew her daughter—Dottie was going to talk to the sheep and dogs about Henry’s return. The animals had provided Dottie with moral support throughout the war.
The door slammed shut behind her, thanks to the wind.
Sarah watched Charles as he smiled at Dottie’s departure, his expression wistful.
“What are your plans, now that the war’s over, Charles?”
“Well, I have a girl in Dubuque, and I hope I’ll get my job back as a molder with the same folks, A. Y. MacDonald Company.”
“So there’s someone special waiting for you, Charles?”
His smile grew subdued and tears formed in his eyes. It reminded Sarah that the war meant long separations for everyone, not just her and Henry.
“Lillian. I hope Lillian’s still there for me, yes.”
“I do, too.”
He cleared his throat and placed his napkin on the table. “This has been a wonderful visit, Sarah, and you make the best egg-salad sandwiches this side of the Mississippi. I won’t take any more of your time. I’m hoping to be home by midweek, so I’d best be on my way.” He stood, and she walked him to the door.
“Do you have enough gas?”
“Yes, and I’ve got several cans in the back of my truck, don’t you worry. I parked at the end of the drive—I wasn’t sure how you’d react to a strange truck rambling up to your house.”
He paused at the door. “Henry gave me something for you. Now don’t read too much into his shaky writing. He was still pretty feverish when he had me help him write this. It’s in his hand, but you’ll see where I spelled out the words when he couldn’t get his hand to write well enough.”
He reached into his jacket inside pocket and pulled out a small envelope.
“He asked me to tell you that no matter what, he loves you with all his heart. Never a day passed while he was in captivity that thoughts of you and your daughter didn’t help him through it.” Charles sounded unusually formal, as if he’d memorized Henry’s message word for word.
He placed the letter in her shaking hands and pressed his own hands around hers.
“You’re a dear woman, Sarah, and I have every hope that Henry will be back with you soon.”
He kissed her on the cheek and left.
She forgot to get his address in Iowa. Sarah prayed he’d write them. Henry would want to know how he was doing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Whidbey Island
One week before Christmas
“MOM, I WANT to put a Transformer at the top of the tree!” Pepé ran around in circles, holding a Transformer toy in each hand, the half-empty ornament boxes and leftover garland no deterrent for his enthusiasm.
“Pepé, slow down, or we’re going to have to stop decorating the tree.” She didn’t have to add that his chances for a mug of hot chocolate were dwindling, as well.
“But, Mom, it’s Christmas. Don’t be such a grinch.” Jonas’s voice rumbled low and sexy next to her as he helped reach the higher branches, hanging her icicle collection.
“You’re going to be in time-out with him if you don’t stop egging him on.”
“Look at me when you reprimand me. Bet you can’t say it to my face.”
Heat washed over her chest, her throat, her cheeks. She didn’t dare look at his eyes, not with Pepé in the room. Her willpower around Jonas was being eroded layer by layer, with each ornament he hung, each chore he did.
He’d shown up a couple hours earlier and proclaimed it was time to put their tree up. With the awful “night of the intruder” as she’d started to think of it, decorating for Christmas had taken a backseat for the past several days as she’d focused on getting Pepé to school and preparing to start work in January.
Now with Christmas only a week away, she was lucky Jonas had found the heart to help her. Otherwise, she might have put it off longer, and the extra effort a real tree took made it worth enjoying for a while before Christmas.
“Dare you.”
Distracted by her thoughts she forgot her vow and looked at him. His blue eyes sparkled with humor—and a desire that demanded expression.
“Jonas, Pepé’s right here,” she whispered. Her voice cracked, betraying how deeply he affected her.
His fingers caressed her cheek. “He’s in his own Santa dream. And he has a bedtime, doesn’t he?”
She didn’t misinterpret his question, nor did she play coy. “Yes, he does.”
His gaze sent more of that sexy heat right down to her toes, which curled in her fleece-lined slippers.
“Can we use the Transformers as the star, Mom?”
She drew in a quick breath and took a step back from the tree, from Jonas’s searing stare.
“No, Pepé. The star goes at the top. But if you want to turn some of your toys into ornaments, that’s fine. Go over to my knitting basket and find some yarn. We’ll make holders so we can hang the Transformers.”
“Great. Got it, Mom!” He darted over to the basket she’d shoved under the coffee table. Since her facial bruises were healing and she’d started to read over some case files that Paul had given her, her knitting had taken a backseat, too.
She had a good feeling that she wouldn’t be playing with yarn tonight, either.
* * *
JONAS LOVED WATCHING Serena in her role as Pepé’s mother. Pepé was a terrific kid, but he had a way of pushing the boundaries of good—and safe—behavior. Jonas had to bite his tongue a lot around the two of them. Pepé came up with the most outrageous ideas, and if not for Serena’s reining him in, the boy would’ve gotten hurt a time or two. Like when he thought tying Ronald’s leash to his Razor scooter was an excellent idea. Serena had caught Pepé just after he’d managed to tie the knot in the leather leash.
Jonas grinned at the memory of Serena’s eyes going wide, then the wild anger in them that she somehow magically channeled into a calm, firm, no-nonsense voice.
The same tone Dottie had used with him when he’d tried to build a tree house with some of the leftover wood from the back porch his dad had redone. “What’s so funny?” Her eyes leveled their challenge at him. When had every look from Serena become a beacon for his libido?
“I’m remembering when Dottie had to all but tan my hide so I wouldn’t build a tree house with planks my dad had thrown into a pile after he redid the back porch.” He laughed at Serena’s stare and Pepé’s smile.
“I always wanted a tree house. My brothers said they’d build me one, but then they got interested in girls and football. I was about ten, and my dad had taught me how to use his drill. Dottie found me out back, drilling holes in the planks, with no adult supervision. I could have lost a finger or worse.”
Guilt sucker-punched him in the gut when he saw the fascinated admiration in Pepé’s eyes.
“Hey, buddy, I was very wrong to do that. You should never, ever play with grown-up tools unless your mom or another adult is around. You know that, right?”
Pepé nodded.
“Did you hear what he said, Pepé?”
Serena shot Jonas an “are you crazy?” look. Crap, he hadn’t meant to stir up Pepé’s mischievous instincts.
And definitely not Serena’s mama-bear self. He was more interested in her hot-mama persona.
“Okay, why don’t you go wash your hands and get your pajamas on, mi hijo? I’ll make your hot chocolate.”
“Do you often give him chocolate before bed?”
&nb
sp; “Are you questioning my parenting skills, Jonas?” Her hips moved in the way that tightened his jeans across his crotch.
“Um, no.”
She shot him a seductive grin. “You’re afraid I’ll change my mind, aren’t you?”
“Frankly, yes.”
She chuckled. Low, sexy, throaty. How long would it take Pepé to drink his chocolate and get to bed?
“I give him mostly milk with a touch of cocoa. I make it myself. You’re right to ask—if I gave him a full dose of it he’d either be up late or pee in the bed. Neither of which I’m a big fan of.”
“Me, neither. I hate when I pee my pajamas.”
She giggled at his straight face. “Do you want some coffee or tea, Jonas? Something stronger?”
“I’m good with water. I don’t need anything else.”
This woman was everything he needed, and she stood at the kitchen counter, mixing cocoa into warmed milk for her son.
* * *
“DO YOU THINK he’s asleep?” Jonas didn’t want to overstep his boundaries. He wasn’t Pepé’s father, nor was he trying out for the part. He did, however, want to take Serena to bed in the worst way. Now that they were most likely only a few minutes away from that, his patience had frayed to its last thread.
“If he isn’t he will be. He ran around all day. Before you came over, we played outside with Ronald for a good hour.”
The woodstove pumped out its familiar heat, the glow in the small window a hint of the fire that roared inside its cast-iron belly. Serena and Pepé’s Christmas tree twinkled to the left of where they sat on her oversize sofa.
“When did you get all this new furniture?” And what had happened to Dottie’s?
“I had it shipped from Texas when we were still in the rental closer to town. Once your family had taken the furniture they’d wanted to remember Dottie by, they gave me the option of keeping the rest or selling it.”
“Paul told me you didn’t have to give my family any of Dottie’s possessions. She left the contents of the house to you.”
Serena smiled, her gaze on the Christmas tree. The twinkling lights were reflected in her eyes and they made her long hair shimmer.
“I believe in the spirit of the law as well as the letter of the law, Jonas. Dottie’s intention was to leave Pepé and me the house, yes, but I don’t think she thought out all the repercussions. She probably would have if she’d more time, if her handwritten notes had made it to Paul before she passed away. He would’ve suggested she allow everyone to take what they wanted. After all, Pepé and I don’t have any memories associated with Dottie’s things.”
“No, your connection is the house. But still, you could have refused. My family wasn’t overly friendly to you at the start—I’m sure it would have been easier to say no and to keep us all at arm’s length.”
The lines between her brows deepened and she tilted her head.
“They weren’t unfriendly, Jonas. Once it was clear who Dottie’s murderer was, they did nothing but support Pepé and me, as much as could be expected when everyone was hit with the shock and grief of her passing.”
Jonas cringed inside. Of course his family had been nice to her. None of them had hoped, or planned, to live here, in this house, for the rest of their lives. Only he did.
And only he had been an ass to Serena.
“I owe you an apology. I’ve been a complete jerk about the house.” This came from his gut, deep inside. He wasn’t playing her to gain leverage, to manipulate her into selling the house.
The realization stunned him.
“How can I blame you? I’d have done the same thing. Except...” Her lips curved in an impish smile and it was all he could do to keep to his side of the sofa.
“Except what?”
She gave him a slow, seductive smile. “If I were you, I would have contested the will. At the very least, I would’ve kept you from moving in here. Possession being nine-tenths of the law, and all.”
“Possession?”
Her tongue came out to lick her lips.
“I’m not waiting any longer, Serena.”
“Don’t.”
She met him halfway and he threaded his fingers through her long, long hair as he grasped the back of her head. Her lips parted immediately on contact with his and Jonas went after the tongue that had flirted with him moments earlier. “Make love to me, Jonas.”
“Pepé’s...”
“Asleep. We can stay out here or go to my room. Your choice, sailor.”
Her words, whispered next to his ear, gave him all the incentive he’d dreamed of.
“Serena.” He leaned back and took her with him, loving the weight of her, the way she pressed her hips into his. She was moving against him in blatant need, until they were both panting like two Olympic runners.
Jonas made quick work of her bra, unsnapping the back and reveling in the feel of her breasts in his palms.
Thump.
Thump, thump.
Serena went still, turning her face toward the front door.
“Did you hear that?”
Yes, damn it, he had.
“Get up, honey,” Jonas muttered. “Let me go check it out.”
No sooner had Serena raised herself away from him, sitting back against the couch, than several loud knocks sounded on the door, followed by the ringing of the doorbell.
“Impatient guest you have.” He tried to sound calm and casual because he saw the immediate panic in her eyes. It was too soon, too close to the night of the intruder.
“Go into the kitchen and wait for me, Serena. I’ll answer this.”
“But, Jonas, it could be another addict.”
“All the more reason for you to go into the other room. Better yet, take your cell and go into Pepé’s room. Call the cops if I don’t come back immediately after I answer the door.”
She didn’t hesitate and within thirty seconds had run upstairs.
The doorbell rang again and the sound of feet shuffling on the porch indicated that the visitor wasn’t going away.
Jonas looked around. There was a poker lying next to the woodstove. He grabbed it and held it behind the door as he opened it.
A tall, angry man stood face-to-face with him.
“Where the hell’s Serena?”
* * *
“YOU SHOULD HAVE CALLED, mi hermano. You scared the wits out of us, coming here in the dark and pounding on the door like a loco.” Serena poured more coffee for her brother, Armando, while Jonas sat and watched the family reunion.
Her half brother was lucky Jonas hadn’t shoved the poker...
“I wanted to surprise Pepé. When my meeting in Seattle ended early, I hopped in my rental car and drove up. I had no idea getting to this island would take so long. And driving onto a ferry—that’s a new one for me.”
He had the same dark eyes and hair as Serena, but lacked the taller build she’d obviously inherited from Uncle Todd.
“How many siblings do you have, again?”
Both Serena and Armando turned toward him as if they’d forgotten he was there. He supposed they had; they hadn’t seen each other in months, and it was clear that Serena’s family was as close as his.
“There are three besides us. Me, the oldest, and then Armando and his twin, Andreo, and two younger sisters, Silvia and Susana.” Serena spoke, her expression apologetic.
Jonas knew it wasn’t just about not telling him her family details. She’d wanted to make love, too.
He couldn’t think about what had almost happened on the sofa or he’d have to stay seated at the table for far too long.
“So you’re the guy who wants to take my sister’s and nephew’s house away from them?”
“Armando!” Serena batted at Armando’s fo
rearm, clearly annoyed.
“Hey, I’m only asking for the facts, mi hermana. What kind of brother would I be to let someone threaten your well-being?”
“Cut it out, Armando. You mean to tell me you support us living out here?”
“I want you to be happy. You’d never be happy back in our tiny town. Mama and you would be at each other’s throats in two seconds flat. Plus the entire town would expect free legal advice.”
Serena laughed, throwing her head back in a way that made Jonas long to kiss the hollow of her throat. “True,” she said. “But what can you expect—they all more or less raised me since Mama had me as a teen.”
“Yes, she was married to Dad by the time we came along. We’ve all stayed.” Armando winked at Jonas. “Serena’s the black sheep. She left us.”
Serena rolled her eyes but Jonas saw the affection she had for her brother.
“How’s your love life, brother?”
“Hey, not in front of your novio, sister.”
“He’s not my—”
Jonas didn’t speak Spanish but he knew the blush on Serena’s face meant her brother had hit pay dirt.
“Novio?”
“It means boyfriend or sweetheart.” Serena wouldn’t meet his eyes as she interpreted.
“It can mean fiancé, too.” Armando grinned slyly. “I’m sorry if I broke up your time together, Serena.”
He turned to Jonas. “This is an awkward way to meet but I trust we’ll become good friends.”
“Sure.” Jonas wasn’t about to get cozy with Serena’s family. He was having a hard enough time keeping her from becoming part of his family.
If he was going to get physically involved with her, he had to be more careful...
A feeling of inevitability washed over him as he watched Serena laugh at another of Armando’s jokes. It might be too late.
Was he falling for Serena? More than physically?
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Whidbey Island
Five days before Christmas
SERENA FOUND JONAS’S house easily enough. His address was written on a sticky note in her kitchen, where he’d left it when he’d gone home after the intruder incident.
Harlequin Superromance November 2014 - Box Set 2 of 2: Christmas at the CoveNavy ChristmasUntil She Met Daniel Page 49