At the table she put the plates and glasses on the bench. Spinning around, she said, “I forgot a tablecloth—” and bumped right into Jon.
Balancing the bag in one arm, his other went around her to steady her.
Lord, his chest was hard. All of him was hard. And he smelled like spice and male and…She had to get a grip. When she gazed up at him, the light in his green eyes scared her. It was intense and aware, and she knew he could see her pulse thudding at her throat. She took a step away, and his hand slid across her shoulders. Her mouth went dry and she stood immobilized.
He set the bag on the table. “Alicia, relax. I’m not going to steal your silverware, or Emily.”
As his arm had gone around her, as his scent had made her dizzy, she hadn’t been thinking about Emily. What was wrong with her? She didn’t respond to men this way. Especially this kind of man with self-will, and self-confidence, and more male appeal than she knew how to categorize.
Not knowing what else to say, she murmured, “Excuse me,” and went for the tablecloth.
Alicia and Emily went out to set the picnic table together. Jon followed and unpacked the supper while Alicia worked on half of one of the sandwiches, making it a size Emily could handle. Scooping out spoonfuls of the potato salad, Jon teased Emily about the size of her sandwich as compared to his.
“Are you married…Jon?” Alicia asked. Now why out of all the questions she could ask had she asked that one?
His half smile made her grip her fork a little tighter. “No. I never have been.” As Emily’s plate slid away from her, he pushed it closer and said, “Alicia, I really do need those programs and invitations we discussed. Can you tell the printer to go ahead with them?”
She shrugged. “Neither of us will turn away business.”
“I wasn’t so sure of that.” His eyes met and held hers for a long moment. She broke contact and picked up her sandwich.
Her daughter chattered to Jon while they ate, telling him about her morning at school. He listened carefully, asking appropriate questions. At a lull in their conversation, he waved at the unfinished playhouse. “I bet you’d like to play in there when school’s out.”
Emily bobbed her head.
Finishing his sandwich, he scooped up a forkful of potato salad. “I’m pretty good with a hammer and nails.”
Alicia protested, “I can’t let you—”
“It would give me a chance to spend some time here.”
He meant spend time with Emily. But then Alicia glanced at him and saw the sparks of interest in his eyes. She felt an answering spark inside her. Panic rose and she tamped it down. Without agreeing to his suggestion, she asked, “How long will you be in Camp Hill?”
“That depends on what happens.”
“What about your business?”
“With fax machines and conference calls, I can handle most business from here.”
In other words, she was stuck with him.
They finished eating, and started on dessert while a breeze began to blow. Emily thoroughly enjoyed her éclair, getting pudding around her mouth and chocolate icing on her nose. She giggled as Alicia wiped her face clean. “Can I go swing?” her daughter asked.
The sky had turned to a dark gray and a rumble of thunder vibrated across the yard. “For a few minutes. I think a storm’s coming up.”
Emily picked up her parrot and dashed toward the swings.
Jon laughed. “Does she ever walk?”
“Not if she can help it.” An awkward silence settled over the table, made worse by the skittery feeling Jon’s probing gaze caused Alicia.
“Tell me about you,” Jon encouraged.
“There’s not much to tell.”
“I doubt that. Are you and Ria identical twins?”
“Yes.”
“Obviously you’re close.”
“In each other’s pockets, our teachers used to say.”
“Any other brothers or sisters?”
“Nope. How about you?” Maybe if she could turn the attention on him, she wouldn’t feel so stilted.
“An only child. My mother was always sorry about that.”
“And what about you?”
“I would have liked a brother or sister to boss around, now and then.”
She couldn’t suppress a smile at his honesty. “Ria and I never bossed each other. We found out early that sticking together helped us both. When our father—” Stopping abruptly, she stacked the dirty plates in a pile. It wasn’t like her to discuss her background.
“Problems in your childhood?”
“Most people have problems. You get through it. You go on.”
“But not without repercussions.”
He sounded as if he understood, as if he hadn’t experienced the loving childhood she wanted so badly to give to her daughter.
Huge drops of rain began to splatter on the table. “Emily,” she called. “Time to go in.”
The rain didn’t wait but fell from the clouds as if someone had turned over a giant sprinkling can. Alicia dumped the used paper goods into the now-empty deli bag. Jon grabbed the pitcher of tea and the glasses. Emily came running and they hurried inside.
Emily danced around the kitchen in a circle singing, “I got wet!”
Alicia dropped the bag into the trash. “Go dry off, honey.”
As she turned, Jon opened the refrigerator and put the pitcher inside. He looked very at home in her kitchen. Grabbing a towel from the oven door handle, she swiped at her arms. Then she held it out to Jon. She couldn’t help but notice the wet waving hair on his forearms.
His fingers covered hers. His hand was large, where hers was small. His was hot; hers was cool. The electricity of touching kept her from moving her hand or anything else. Jon Wescott was close and, good Lord, she wondered what his lips would feel like on hers.
He bent his head and then she didn’t have to wonder anymore.
Chapter Three
Desire had gripped Jon before. But it had been a basic urge to satisfy, not an overwhelming need. This kind of need was new and foreign and arousing. His arms surrounded Alicia before he could think. His lips settled on hers, and with her gasp he slipped his tongue into her mouth. When he tasted her, every nerve in his body rejoiced and asked for more.
Until he realized she was stiff in his arms. What felt so right to him apparently did not feel right to her.
Alicia tried to concentrate. The shock of Jonathan Wescott’s arms around her, the scorching heat of his kiss, the dizzying sensation of her mind whirling and her body aching, had frozen her into immobility. She’d never experienced anything like this with Patrick. Their embrace had always been a friendly give-and-take, not an assault on her senses, not fireworks, not so primal…
The voice of reason suddenly overcame Alicia’s light-headedness and steadied the runaway speed of her pulse. Was Jonathan Wescott coming on to her to get what he wanted? Did he think that since his offer of money didn’t sway her, his sex appeal might? Did he believe that some…attraction would change how she felt about Emily? Or him?
Tearing away, she didn’t know if she saw surprise in Jon’s eyes or disappointment. Turning to the stove, she hung the towel over the oven’s handle, trying to steady herself, trying to stop her body’s trembling.
She knew all about men being nice when they wanted something. She and Ria had been around that behavior for years. Their father had rarely been nice to his wife. It wasn’t until they were adults that the twins had figured out that he’d only been nice to their mother when he wanted sex. The rest of the time he’d treated her like a servant, and she’d let him.
Long ago Alicia had vowed no man would treat her that way, or control her, or direct her life. Patrick had been the epitome of gentleness and flexibility. They’d been considerate of each other’s needs, and he’d never tried to bend her to his will. But this man…
“I’d better check on Emily,” she murmured.
Jon wouldn’t let her evade him that easily. Wh
en she turned around, he hadn’t moved. “I think I misread the signals.”
“I wasn’t giving off any signals.”
He studied her carefully. “I think you were. But something happened that you weren’t ready for, didn’t it?”
She didn’t think she was ready for anything about Jonathan Wescott. He seemed to have a sensual power over her she didn’t like at all. But she couldn’t tell him that because it would put her at a disadvantage.
When she didn’t answer his question, Jon said, “You’re a beautiful woman, Alicia.”
She felt her flush stain her cheeks. “And I have something you want.”
“Meaning Emily?” he asked gently.
“What else would I mean?”
His brows hiked up. “Did you ever think that a man might want you for you?”
“But you’re not just any man, are you? You think you’re Emily’s father. Of course I suspect ulterior motives.”
He sighed. “You don’t trust easily.”
“I trust my sister and I trusted my husband. What grounds do I have to trust you?”
His tone was wry. “Score one for you. You’re not as fragile as you look, are you?”
“Fragile? Take a better look, Mr. Wescott. You might see blond hair and blue eyes, but believe me, you will not see weakness.”
He drew his hand dramatically across his forehead. “Whew. I asked for that one, didn’t I? If I apologize, will you go back to calling me Jon?”
Ria often told her she was too touchy—around men. But this man made her feel vulnerable. She’d fought that feeling since childhood. “Are you apologizing?”
He smiled. “Yes. Are you accepting?”
She hesitated, yet couldn’t help but return his smile. “Yes.”
“Good. Because I’d like to come over tomorrow evening and work on the playhouse. It will give me a chance to be around Emily in a casual situation.”
“And what if I don’t think that’s a good idea?”
“I’ll find another way to see Emily with or without your approval.”
Her choices were limited. She had no doubt he would follow his words with action. If she could somehow keep her distance, letting him work on the playhouse could be the lesser of all evils.
“Alicia, I won’t kiss you again unless I know that’s what you want, too.”
Her dealings with Jon to this point had intimated that he was a man of his word. And if he was Emily’s father, he and Emily could begin by building their relationship slowly. “If you want to work on the playhouse, go ahead.”
As soon as she said the words, Jon’s green eyes darkened with satisfaction, making her realize he’d won the battle if not the war.
Jon entered his suite feeling as if he’d just successfully negotiated a tough business deal. Alicia Fallon might have quiet beauty, she might be reserved and sometimes even seem shy, but she was no pushover. And damn it, he was attracted to her. Usually he didn’t think twice about seeing what he wanted and grabbing it, or buying it, or negotiating for it. But when he kissed Alicia again, he wanted her to be willing and a full participant.
When? Not if? Jeez, he didn’t need his life more complicated than it already was. Hadn’t he decided after Cecile’s departure from his life that a relationship with a woman was a bad investment? That the chance for substantial returns was too great a risk? For the past five years he’d engaged in low-risk, immediate-return encounters with women and invested his energy and time into adding to the Wescott holdings and making them successful.
Then, for some reason, he thought about Adam…and Jana—the woman who’d brought laughter and Adam’s daughters back into his friend’s life. They made marriage seem easy. But Adam and Jana were the exception.
As Jon took his wallet from his pocket and tossed it on the dresser, the phone rang. He picked it up automatically, used to receiving phone calls at all hours of the day or night.
“Mr. Wescott, it’s Valerie Sentara. I understand you’re looking into buying a newspaper in Harrisburg. Would you like to confirm or deny?”
Valerie Sentara wrote a gossip column for a newspaper in Los Angeles, one he didn’t own, didn’t hold shares of, or even consider a serious rival. She had a reputation for being ruthless in getting stories that would sell her publisher’s papers. “Neither. What I’m doing here is nobody’s business but mine. Go snooping somewhere else.”
“But Mr. Wescott—”
“That’s it, Ms. Sentara. No comment.” Putting the receiver on its console, he realized he might have just stoked the reporter’s curiosity. He’d have to make inquiries into newspapers in the area to cover his tracks. In no way did he want to thrust Alicia or Emily into the public eye. He’d protect them any way he could.
Before Jon had left Alicia’s house Tuesday evening, she’d shown him the four foot by eight foot sheets of wood paneling in her garage intended for the inside of Emily’s playhouse. So this afternoon, he’d gone to the lumberyard, purchasing two sawhorse kits, a circular saw, extension cord, hammer, nails, goggles and a trouble light. If he finished the interior first, Emily could play inside even if the shingles weren’t yet attached to the roof.
He ate an early supper and arrived at Alicia’s around five-thirty, wanting to take advantage of the light that was left. She came to the door with an apron covering her blouse and slacks. Red dots and one bright splash of tomato sauce stained the bib. He suddenly glimpsed a picture of coming home to a woman like this every night. It was more than palatable.
Without preamble and to avoid the awkwardness of small talk, he said, “I’ll take the supplies around back. Do you have an outside electrical outlet, or do I need to plug into the house?”
Her gaze passed over his yellow T-shirt and denims, making him feel much hotter than the seventy degree weather called for. Women had looked at him before. In his position, he took that kind of attention for granted. But it was different with Alicia doing the looking than it had been with women in the past. He reminded himself, You’re not going to kiss her unless she wants you to.
“There’s an outlet on the back porch. Is there anything you need before you start?” Alicia asked.
“A glass of water would be nice. Other than that, I have everything I need. I hope.”
“Have you done this type of thing before?”
“We had a handyman I followed around when I was a teenager. He taught me a little about plumbing, a little about construction.” He’d been a friendly male influence when Jon’s father was too busy to have anything to do with him.
Still staying behind the closed screen door, Alicia said, “We’re just finishing supper. I’m sure Emily will want to watch you. Will it be safe?”
He wasn’t surprised by Alicia’s concern; he respected it. “I’ll make it safe. Just send her out when she’s finished supper.”
As Jon carried supplies to the backyard, he felt Alicia’s gaze on him more than once through the kitchen window. She was going to watch him like the proverbial hawk. He sighed. Somehow, he had to show her he only wanted to get to know his daughter.
The weather was comfortable until he started sawing and hammering, ducking in and out of the playhouse. Emily soon joined him with his glass of water, chattering away as he hammered. When he started the saw, Alicia appeared by her daughter’s side, protectively holding her by the shoulders. He wanted to pretend her observant gaze didn’t bother him, but the drops of sweat rolling down his neck came from more than exertion.
As he turned off the saw, Emily asked questions with the natural aptitude of children to absorb anything new that interested them. He couldn’t help but wonder what her reaction would be if he told her he was her father.
Emily scooted over to her swing set. Jon took the sheet of paneling inside and was busily fitting it around the window, when, a few minutes later, Alicia stepped over the threshold. The scent of her perfume teased him. Lilacs. He’d smelled it the first time he’d stepped into her office, he’d noticed it again when they’d met
at the Fourstar offices, he’d breathed it when he’d kissed her. It was very light, almost like a whiff on the breeze. Now it wrapped around him in the close quarters making his body respond in very real ways.
She offered him a tall tumbler. “I thought you might like some iced tea. Emily brought your empty water glass inside.”
He grinned. “Mother’s little helper?”
“Sometimes. But I don’t want her to grow up too fast. I want her to run and play and just love being a child while she can.”
Something in Alicia’s voice told him she hadn’t had that experience. He propped the paneling against the wall and took the tea from her hand. Two ice cubes bobbed near the top. Lifting the glass, he drank half of it in a few seconds.
He lifted it to her. “This is good. I’ve never tasted anything quite like it.”
“I use orange juice instead of sugar.”
“Health conscious?”
“Aware of what’s good for Emily.”
“You focus your entire life around her, don’t you?”
Alicia shrugged. “I have my business. But she deserves my attention as well as my love.”
“And you deserve a life. Have you dated since your husband died?”
She lifted her chin. “I came in to offer you something to drink, not to disclose my personal life.”
Undaunted, he returned, “Do you have a personal life?”
Her mouth straightened into an angry line. “That’s none of your business.”
Leaning against the doorjamb, he took another swallow of tea. “Did I hit a nerve?”
Her gaze didn’t seem to know where to settle. Finally he suspected it landed on his nose as she asked with annoyance, “Do you ever stop asking questions?”
“When I get answers.”
“Then I guess you’ll just have to keep asking questions. I put a dish of oatmeal cookies on the picnic table. I told Emily she had to leave you at least three.”
“Did you make them?”
“Yes.”
Jon grinned. “I haven’t had homemade oatmeal cookies since I was a kid.”
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