“Sienna?”
She jumped. “What?”
“I said I’m sorry.”
She sniffed. “Yes, well.”
“So, what do you say?” His lips twitched. “Apology accepted?”
She drank in every handsome feature of his sun-kissed face, and the shallow well of her resistance popped its cork, the bubbles trickling onto the carpet.
“Fine. Apology accepted.” She pushed a finger into his chest—it was harder than brick—and nudged him back so she could breathe easier. “But you’re not getting away that easily. I still want an explanation.”
He raised his hands in mock surrender. “I expected nothing less.”
“Good.” She shut the front door. “Go through to the kitchen. I’ll see if the girls are okay.”
Silence. Damn it. Why didn’t he ever do as he was told?
He raised an eyebrow, his eyes deliciously teasing. “Sure you’re okay being alone with them?”
She glowered and thrust the daffodils toward him. “I like daffodils, Beaton, but not enough I wouldn’t shove these up your ass. Go. Now.”
Laughing, he headed into the kitchen.
His behind was sculpted and pretty damn bitable in jeans that fit just right. He disappeared out of view, and Sienna took a moment to gather her wits. This was about her business. Her life. She couldn’t allow a man to deter her from what she needed to do. That was the bottom line.
The sound of the television blasting into action shook her from her trance, and she hurried into the living room.
Holly and Katy stood side by side in front of the TV. Their faces were barely inches from the screen, their heads moving side to side. Sienna looked at the TV and froze. The busty female chef, who was near bursting out of her low-cut wrap top, sashayed from fridge to stove to counter and back again while eyeing the camera like it was about to stick its lens in her knickers. When she popped a spoon in her mouth and started licking the chocolate sauce off it in a way that had even Sienna’s cheeks bursting into flame, Sienna rushed forward and took a hand of each twin.
She propelled them toward the sofa. “Hey, girls. Why don’t you sit there, and I’ll turn that silly lady off and put on some Winnie the Pooh instead, eh?”
The light that lit in Holly’s eyes sent a shiver up Sienna’s spine. “You look like that lady when you look at Daddy.”
The furnace burning Sienna’s face turned up a notch. She laughed. “Oh, you.”
She tweaked her nose and focused back on the TV, fumbling and dropping the DVD several times before managing to get it in the damn machine and pressing play. Only when the Disney emblem appeared in all its Technicolor glory did Sienna release her held breath.
“There. That’s better.”
Katy smiled, her eyes soft with what could only be described as affection. “You’re funny.”
Sienna’s shoulders dropped down from around her earlobes as something tugged deep in her chest. “You’re cute.”
“Daddy told us to be good because you’re scared of us.”
Sienna snapped her head to the left and met Holly’s demonically gleaming stare. “Is that so? Do I look scared right now?”
Holly was a hurt little girl. The pain shone in her eyes as clearly as Sienna’s did every time she looked in the mirror and thought of her father. Sienna would have reacted no differently had her parents divorced when she was only four years old, so Holly’s confusion, fear, and protectiveness for the hunk of love waiting in the kitchen was totally understandable.
But the kid wouldn’t rule the roost while she was under Sienna’s roof.
“Holly?”
Holly glared, an angry red flush staining her cheeks, and her mouth pulled tightly together. Katy nudged her in the ribs. “Don’t, Holly. I want to watch the movie.”
“Everything okay in here?” Jack’s husky, should-be-deemed-illegal voice broke through the atmosphere, slicing it in half and transforming Holly’s expression into that of a cherub.
“Yes, Daddy,” she said. “We’re going to watch Winnie the Pooh.”
Sienna bit back a smile. The kid was fabulous. Pushing to her feet, Sienna looked at Jack. “Yep, we’ll get these two monkeys some drinks and pizza, and they’ll be good to go.”
“Great.” He held out his hand. “Shall we?”
Her stomach tightened. What is he doing? Handholding was far too dangerous at any stage in the evening, let alone within ten minutes of him stepping through the front door. Had he forgotten what she’d told him a week ago? Was this some strategy on his part? To lure her into a false sense of security? Well, he was way off the mark if he thought she was some kind of schmuck.
Ignoring his outstretched hand, she brushed past him and out the door. “Let’s grab a glass of wine.”
She marched to the kitchen with her head held high, all too aware of his soft footsteps behind her. Heading straight for the refrigerator, Sienna yanked open the door and pulled out a chilled bottle of white wine. Closing her eyes, she silently counted to three and waited for the lingering scent of the man’s aftershave to abate. The smell of him messed with her goddamn mind. Autumn mixed with musk, tinged with fresh pine leaves…she inhaled.
The scrape of a chair against tile told her Jack had made himself comfortable at the kitchen table. She opened her eyes and pulled her smile into place.
“Pinot Grigio okay?”
“Sounds great.” He nodded toward the stove. “Whatever you’ve got cooking in there smells fantastic.”
Snatching the corkscrew from the counter, Sienna moved to the table. “Thanks. Lasagna with lots of garlic, served with homemade garlic bread. So don’t even think about kissing anyone but me tonight, you hear?” What the hell?
If a grown man could pass out on the spot, that’s what Jack wanted to do, judging by the paling of his usually olive skin. Her momentary despair dissolved. Yes! He looked terrified. One point to her. Clearly, the getting-up-in-her-face and smoldering looks he’d been firing out like bullets since he’d stepped inside the house were nothing more than a smokescreen. The man still had the same reservations about her and her shop that he’d had when she’d delivered him her bad news that night on his decking.
Satisfaction welled within her. A worthy opponent was nothing to be sniffed at, and she gave a bark of laughter. “Look at your face, Blue Eyes. Here.” She poured some wine into a glass on the table and prayed to God the trembling bottle wasn’t as obvious to him as it was her. “Drink this before you self-combust. I’m not going to jump you, so you can relax.”
He raised the glass to his lips and took a mouthful while watching her over its rim like she was a cobra ready to strike. The longer he observed her, the more her smugness became embarrassment. She reached for the second glass and filled it to the brim.
“Shall we start again?” She took a drink. “I’m nervous. You’re nervous.”
“Why are you nervous? Because of me asking questions?”
“No, because I’m moving my business here whether you like it or not, and I’ve got a horrible feeling you’re going to be nothing but a royal pain in the ass about it.”
Chapter Seven
WITH A SCATHING RETORT burning his tongue, Jack drummed his fingers on the kitchen tabletop while his leg bounced the fandango beneath it. He snapped his mouth shut. What would be the use in making Sienna any madder than she already was? He needed to bide his time.
Sienna whirled around and headed for the stove. Her long brown hair was caught up in a bronze clip that glinted under the soft overhead lights. Tendrils teased her long neck, curling down to meet shoulders revealed by the wide neck of her top that had slipped over the smooth curve of one shoulder, showing a pale pink bra strap. A slash of pink nougat against caramel. Jack picked up his wine.
The feminine top teamed with blue denim jeans and white flip-flops revealing scarlet-painted toenails should have been nothing out of the ordinary, but she oozed sexual confidence. How could a woman like that not make a lingerie busines
s successful? She was a walking advertisement for what sexy meant.
Yet for all her good looks and perfectly curved figure, the thing messing with Jack’s mission against the shop moving there was Sienna’s undeniable kindness and popularity. Even the few people he’d managed to talk to in town all knew and loved Sienna, and if he had met her somewhere else, under different circumstances, Jack couldn’t deny he would have been pretty bowled over too. But these weren’t different circumstances, and his girls lived right next door. A flesh-and-blood reminder of what he needed to get done.
He put his glass back on the table, the impending confrontation lingering like a smoldering rock behind his ribcage. He didn’t like doing this, but it had to be done. New life, new terms. That meant no pandering to other people or letting anyone or anything upset his children.
“Right. One margherita pizza and one bowl of chips ready for delivery.”
Sienna’s voice had cut through his study of her, and Jack sat up a little higher in his seat. “They’ll love that.”
Her brow creased. “Are you sure? Is it okay for them to share? As I’ve said before, I’m not…used to kids. Is that what you’d give them? Will they like it?”
The rush of questions gave away her nerves, and Jack’s gut clenched as he smiled. “Pizza and chips are always a winner. Don’t worry about it.”
Carrying two plastic plates to the table, she held them out in front of him for inspection. He had a sneaky feeling she’d bought them after their meeting at the grocers—he couldn’t imagine for one minute that Sienna Lloyd kept Tom & Jerry crockery as a matter of course in her cupboards.
He met her worried expression. “That’s perfect. You’ll be their new best friend.”
“Will I?”
“Sure. I try to play the good-dad role and shove vegetables down them as much as I can. They’re gonna love you for this.”
Two spots of pink colored her cheeks as she smiled. “I’m fine doing the bad-unhealthy-neighbor thing. I don’t mind.”
He laughed and pushed to his feet. “Shall I follow you in with the drinks?”
“Sure. There are some cups by the sink. I have Coke, lemonade—”
“Water will be fine. Give them a fizzy drink and they’ll be bouncing off your lovely white walls within thirty minutes.” He arched an eyebrow. “Believe me. I’ve learned the hard way.”
“Water it is, then.” Her flip-flops slapped toward the door until the hallway carpet silenced them.
Jack picked up the two matching Tom & Jerry cups from the counter, and following Sienna’s lead, mustered the strength to go through with what he needed to say. The prospect of arguing with her was otherwise growing less and less appealing with every passing second.
Ten minutes later, he eased his butt back onto his vacated chair in the kitchen, having left Holly and Katy to enjoy a mini-party in the living room. He took another sip of his wine as Sienna carried two plates from the stove and placed one in front of him.
“We’re eating simple but good. Anything you don’t like or want, I’ll keep for tomorrow, so don’t worry about offending me. I don’t cook two days in a row for anyone. Including myself.”
“It looks great.” He met her smile as the rich fragrance of basil hit his nostrils.
“Tomato and basil bruschetta to start, and then we move on to my homemade lasagna. Hope you’re hungry.” She sat down in the seat opposite him. “My best friend claims she adds forty pounds to her hips every time she eats it. A fact I’m proud of.” Meeting his eyes over the rim of her wineglass, she added, “What Kelsey fails to realize is most people only have one portion. I tend to cut her off at three.”
Jack laughed. “I’ll consider myself warned.”
Their eyes locked, and the ticking of the wall clock suddenly reverberated in the room. Even the sound of Rabbit having a meltdown over his carrots on the living room TV did nothing to lessen the atmosphere. A palpable undercurrent of what hadn’t been said whispered between them, filling the air with an injection of tension like a hovering hammer waiting to fall.
“So.” Sienna’s voice was higher in its pitch. “Tuck in.”
The first course passed in stilted conversation and frequent sips of wine. The crunch of bread and the clatter of cutlery against crockery filled the bouts of strained silence, and as soon as their glasses were empty, Sienna refilled them. Jack noticed the bottle tremble ever so slightly as she poured. Then, after too short a time, she scraped her chair back to clear their half-finished bruschetta. Had stomach somersaults ruined her appetite too?
“I’ll go check on the girls,” Jack said, and headed out the door.
It was cowardice rather than fatherly concern that made him leave the kitchen. He needed time to think. Time away from the distraction of her perfume, her eyes, her smile. The subject of the shop still hadn’t been raised, and Jack was well aware the initiation sat on his shoulders. The reason they were there, feigning interest in a meal when a whole other issue lingered like a boulder between them, was his fault not hers. She had no problem moving the shop—he did, and he owed her an explanation why. Which meant it was his responsibility to take up the baton.
He whispered a curse. If he could only find the words—without saying too much.
Like a floating raft in the middle of a turbulent sea, Jack absorbed the calming sight of his daughters on entering the living room. The urge to scoop them into his arms and draw strength from their unending love burst through him. They sat side by side watching TV, identical grins on their faces, slices of pizzas in their hands. They were happy, content. Just how he wanted them to be every day for the rest of their lives. Walking forward, he ruffled their hair one after the other and then laughed when they ducked and dodged around him to see the TV. Tossed aside in favor of Tigger.
He walked back into the kitchen. The lasagna sat in the center of the table, plumes of silver-gray steam escaping around the edges of its terracotta dish. Next to it, sliced garlic bread lay on a rustic chopping board, and two white china plates set at their places. Sienna stood beside the table, her eyes carefully watching Jack while she wielded a lethal-looking knife in one hand and a spatula in the other.
She cleared her throat. “I’ll serve, you talk.”
Slumping his shoulders, Jack sat down. His throat was drier than the Sahara. He hated doing this to her, hated spoiling anyone’s plans. He used his journalism to make people’s lives better, not destroy dreams and livelihoods. Why couldn’t Sienna run a bookstore? A cake shop?
He drew in a breath. “Okay. The last thing I want is to have us become enemies. None of this is about some vendetta or me throwing my weight around as soon as I move to a new town.”
He paused, waiting for a response. She said nothing, just continued filling their plates, her eyes obscured from view as she concentrated on the task at hand. Jack pushed on.
“I have to think of Holly and Katy. Things have happened that I want deleted from their memories, and unfortunately, your business will only bring them straight back.”
Sienna remained focused on the lasagna as she cut and served his portion and then hers. “You’re going to have to give me more than that, Blue Eyes.”
Jack scowled. “Will you stop calling me that?”
“No,” she replied with a wink.
“This is serious, Sienna. There’s too much history built on sex in my life…and theirs. I can’t handle it.”
“Ah, that’s more like it.”
“What?”
“You can’t handle it. I suspected as much from your very first outburst.” She sat and nodded toward his plate. “Eat.”
“Don’t dismiss me like I’m an overreacting idiot.”
Her smile waned. “I’m not. I’m listening to you, but you’re not telling me anything. We’ll talk, but let’s at least eat while we’re doing it.”
Jack battled the insecurity simmering at the base of his throat while his pulse beat hard in his neck. His gaze focused on Sienna’s wine, and Martina�
�s cold face rose up in front of him, her makeup smudged and gray under her eyes, the smell of alcohol tainting his skin as she spat vicious words at him like tiny darts of venom. He squeezed his eyes shut against the memory. He wouldn’t go there. He couldn’t compare an innocent glass of wine or two over a meal with Martina’s drinking. This wasn’t about that. It was about the sense of failure that remained a fire-hot brand inside him because of the part he’d played in the disintegration of their marriage.
He looked across the table at Sienna studying the lasagna on her plate. Her jaw slowly moved as she chewed, her face redder than it had been a few minutes before. She didn’t deserve this bitterness that poured from him, spreading across the tablecloth toward her.
The silence stretched.
“Sienna?”
“What?” Though humor had filled her words just a second before, now angry accusation burned in her eyes. And yet she wasn’t saying no to him. Wasn’t haranguing him. She was damn well listening.
The right words floundered outside the periphery of Jack’s intelligence, tapping at his conscience. “I know this is hard for you to accept. Having your shop next door sets all sorts of things in motion that I can’t tell you about.”
She put down her knife and fork. “Fine. Even if I understood that—which I don’t—what am I supposed to do? Abandon my plans for some guy who moved in next door less than a fortnight ago? That’s not really fair, Jack, and you know it.”
What could he say to that? His mind darted all over the place. “I suppose it’s too much to expect you to just accept what I’m saying?”
For a long time, Sienna said nothing. With brow furrowed, she slowly put her glass down and picked up her fork. She stabbed it into the lasagna. “This is all about you, right? It has nothing to do with the fact that some lingerie or the occasional maid’s outfit might send Katy and Holly hurtling into therapy?” she asked.
Jack tightened his grip around his knife and fork. “No, but giggling, screaming women coming back and forth up the driveway next door might.”
16 Marsden Place Page 7