by Dara Girard
Jessie kneeled and held her hands. “Are you afraid of him?”
She quickly shook her head. “No, I’m happy to be here.”
They seemed like hollow words, but they sounded sincere. Jessie stood. “You can come another time. Don’t look at me like that. You’ll have fun with your uncle. Come on, let’s go see what he has planned for dinner.”
By the look of things, it appeared that he planned to have Brooke for dinner. Not that she could blame him. The little kitten had crossed her silk-clad legs so that they were touching his. She leaned toward him, as if she was aiming to dive into his lap. A tasteful amount of cleavage peeked through her top. Kenneth didn’t seem to mind.
Jessie coughed. “Excuse me.”
Kenneth looked startled; Brooke looked annoyed. “Can I talk to you a minute?” Jessie asked Kenneth.
“Sure.” He tossed down a paper and stood.
“Stay right here,” she told Syrah. “And no tricks.”
Syrah smiled.
“I mean it.”
Her smile grew wider, but she nodded.
Jessie led Kenneth to the corner of the family room, wedging herself between a large plant and the couch. She suddenly felt small in his presence, like a chipmunk in the presence of a hawk. Unfortunately, being backed up against the wall didn’t ease her discomfort.
He had loosened his tie and unfastened the top two buttons of his blue shirt—the only indication that he was in a relaxed mood. He rested his hands on his hips. For the first time, he looked at her with interest—not hostility, disappointment, or annoyance. It was a little disconcerting not to see those familiar emotions in his eyes. She briefly allowed herself to remember a time when they weren’t so civil to each other, a time when she had dreamed of him looking at her just like this and kissing her. She rubbed her forehead. She couldn’t think of that foolish girl she had been.
His gaze grew concerned. “Are you getting a headache?”
Jessie let her hand fall. “No.” She managed a smile. “At least I hope not.”
“Is there a problem?” He inhaled her scent. She smelled fresh and alive, like a spring morning. He had to plant his feet in order not to step closer.
“Not really.” She cleared her throat. “I was wondering what you had planned for dinner.”
He shrugged. “Whatever you two want is fine with me. Just tell Ms. Rose.”
“I’m going to my house to eat, so you will have to think of something for you and Syrah.”
He rubbed his chin and stared at Syrah, who was tugging a loose thread on her shirt. “Can’t you just take her with you?”
“No, I have to go home.”
He turned back to her. “I hired you to look after Ace.”
She stiffened. “Yes, I’m very aware what you hired me for. And I don’t believe taking her home with me was one of the stipulations.”
He sighed fiercely, glancing at Brooke. “But I have work to do.”
She glanced at Brooke as well too. “I’m afraid work will have to wait.” She lifted a brow. “You could just give Syrah the requisite bread and water and keep her in her room.”
His fingers tapped his hip, and his eyes became unreadable. “I thought we had a truce.”
“This isn’t about us. She’s feeling really displaced right now and she wants company.”
Kenneth took off his tie and crumpled it in a ball. “That’s why I hired you.”
“I’m her companion, her nanny.” She tried not to choke on the word. “Not her mother.”
His lip curled. “And I’m not her father, so don’t look at me as if I’m the one letting her down.”
“Oh, relax. I’m sure she doesn’t want you as a father. Nobody could live up to your perfect standards.” She rubbed her nose. “So how often do you inspect her room for cleanliness?”
He frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Aside from the room, I’m sure you don’t consider it abnormal to pull away when she touches you. Are you scared her dirty fingers will soil your clothes?”
His frown deepened. “Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s debatable.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What isn’t debatable is that she doesn’t even want to be with you.”
His jaw tensed. “She said that?”
“Not exactly—”
“Then I suggest you don’t make that assumption.”
Their eyes clashed in silent battle, Jessie’s dark brown eyes slicing through his light brown ones. She suddenly scowled and shook his shoulder. “Breathe.”
He took a deep breath.
“I hate when you do that.”
He shook his head. “I’m not going to argue with you.”
“Good. Circular arguments are tiresome.” She rested against the wall. “Now, I know that you don’t want her here, but she’s a good kid and she wants to please you.”
He stroked the leaves on the plant next to them. His voice was low. “And I know you have the worst possible opinion of me, but I have things I must get done.”
“You’ll have to prioritize.”
A branch snapped in his fingers. “Don’t overstep your bounds by telling me what to do.”
She felt the brief sting of the temper he tried so hard to control. She decided not to provoke it further. “Fine.”
He ran a tired hand down his face. “I’m sorry I was short with you. I just have a lot on my mind.” He tossed the broken branch in the pot and stared at the soil. “I know you’re trying to help, and I admire you for that.”
Jessie ground her teeth. Damn. It was hard to hate him when he was like this—so apologetic, so human. She could almost feel the way he was able to collect his anger and tuck it away.
“You’re entitled to being short every once in awhile. I could offer you lessons for a fee.”
There was the hint of a smile. “Hmm.”
She took his chin and forced him to look at her. She needed to read his eyes, knowing that they would belie his calm voice. She was right. His eyes smoldered with a fire that was not only fueled by anger, but by a volcanic desire she hadn’t anticipated. She tried to step back, only to remember that she was against the wall. A delicious shudder raced up her body. She looked away.
His voice was low, calling to something deep within her. “Are you surprised, or embarrassed?” He fingered a loose tendril against her cheek.
Jessie kept her eyes averted.
“Or perhaps disgusted?”
No, not disgusted—she felt powerful. That wonderful intangible force that could be intoxicating in its command. He wanted her. That gave her control. She was free to indulge in the temptation standing before her. She could discover what he tasted like, how he felt. She took a step toward him to brush his lips. He abruptly moved back so that she ended up kissing his chin.
His mouth spread into a cruel smile. “Ah, so that’s the game you’re playing. I hadn’t pictured you as one of those.”
Her sense of power disintegrated. Blood rushed to her face as shame surrounded her. Her throat tightened, forbidding the passage of words or an explanation.
She slipped past him and made a quick exit, offering Syrah a hurried good-bye and Brooke an insincere one. She ran down the front steps, gulping in the cool night air, blinking away the hot tears in her eyes. She kicked a stone out of her way. She had been an idiot to think…I must have read his eyes wrong. She must have misunderstood the sensuous gleam she had seen.
She had underestimated him…again. He was used to playing games, used to misleading women by showing an attraction he didn’t feel. His rejection made that clear. How could she have been stupid enough to believe that he was attracted to her, that he would want her? The memory of her actions made her feel ill. She had nothing to tempt a man like him, yet her foolish pride had allowed her to fall in his trap again.
Again she had given him the power to reject her, just as she had years ago. But it wouldn’t happen again, not fo
r a stupid bet. She would just tell Deborah that he was involved with someone else—that wasn’t really losing, was it? She would get the pendant another way. She would work for it, even if it took years. She didn’t have the skills to manipulate him. She didn’t have his ruthlessness. Michelle was wrong; he was no ordinary man.
She walked to her car, then searched for the keys she had haphazardly thrown inside her handbag. After a few moments of fruitless searching, she rested her forehead against the hood. Some grand exit. If she had been in a horror film, she would be dead. Some murderous fiend with a chainsaw in one hand and a garbage bag in another would have done his dirty work. She would have deserved it. Hell, she would have welcomed it, because she had failed. She had failed her parents and her sisters. She threw down her bag. “The family loser,” she said, disgusted.
She closed her eyes and listened to a car speed past in the distance and heard something scurry under a bush. The sound of tinkling metal interrupted the cry of a crow. Then she heard the grating of a key in her car door. A hand covered her mouth before she could scream.
“Relax, Jas, it’s just me.” Kenneth removed his hand. “Why are you standing out here?”
There was no reason to reply. She was wallowing in self-pity, reliving her failures. What did he know about failure? She took her handbag from him and opened the door. She tossed her bag on the passenger seat and got in. Kenneth grabbed the door before she could slam it shut. He rested his forearms and chin on the frame and looked down at her with a lazy grin.
“You and I have a lot in common, you know,” he said casually. “We both like sports and we both like games.” He paused. “But do you know the one problem with games?”
Jessie started the ignition.
“Someone has to lose.” He closed the car door and walked away.
Chapter 13
When Jessie reached home, the spicy scent of stewed chicken with peas and rice greeted her. She dropped her handbag in the foyer and went into the kitchen, surprised to see that her sisters were halfway through dinner.
“I was only a few minutes late. You could have waited for me,” she said. She glanced and noticed that a plate hadn’t been set out for her either. “What’s going on?”
“What are you doing here?” Michelle asked.
She took a seat. “I always eat dinner with you.”
Teresa placed a plate and utensils in front of her. “We expected you to eat with them.”
“Oh.” It was a logical deduction. Of course, she couldn’t tell them that she hoped never to see Kenneth again. Or if she did, she hoped an angry mob would be leading him towards the gallows like the beast that he was. “The food’s better here.” She piled her plate and began to eat. After a few seconds, she glanced up. Her sisters were watching her. “What?”
Michelle delicately dabbed her mouth. “We’re waiting to hear a report.”
“There’s nothing to say. His house is nice.”
Teresa cut her chicken. “Is the child difficult?”
“No, she’s wonderful. Unfortunately, she wants to stay with Kenneth.” Jessie retrieved Syrah’s letter from her bag and handed it to Michelle. “She wrote you a letter.”
Michelle stared at it. “Me? Why?”
“I asked her to. I think she needs someone to talk to, someone she feels safe with. Besides, I thought you could use a friend.” Michelle’s job had been her life since her separation and the death of their parents. “You will respond, won’t you?”
“Of course I’ll reply.” She snatched the letter. “I’m not a complete ogre, you know.”
“I know. That’s why when she asked me if you were nice, I said that when the moon was full, you are at your best.”
Michelle laughed. “At least I don’t have your temper.”
Teresa shook her head in disagreement. “Oh, please. I’m the only one born without a temper.”
“Remind me to write you a reality check.”
Teresa put down her fork. “It’s true. Jessie’s temper’s like a bonfire. You turn into a glacier, and I stay mellow.”
“Like an undercurrent. You trick people into believing they’re safe until you’re ready to drown them.”
Teresa rolled her eyes and began to eat.
Michelle placed Syrah’s letter beside her, then clasped her hands. “Enough about Teresa. How’s Mission Impossible going?”
Jessie lifted her glass. “If I throw water on you, will you melt?”
“I’m sorry. Bad joke. But how is it going?”
“Nowhere.” She groaned. “I met Brooke Radson.”
“Bright woman. She’s given Mrs. Donovan excellent advice on running her antiques shop,” Michelle said.
“Aside from being brilliant, she’s beautiful. The kind of woman you want to kiss and kick at the same time. I can’t compete with her. I thought I had a chance when…” She trailed off.
“When what?” Teresa urged.
She bit her lip. Shame rushed back to her, as fresh as before. Her eyes fell. “I tried to kiss him.” She glanced up. “He moved away.”
Michelle frowned. “Why were you trying to kiss him?”
“Because he looked like he wanted to kiss me.”
Teresa leaned forward. “What kind of look was that?”
“Never mind,” Michelle said before Jessie could reply. “What did he say when he moved away?”
Jessie shrugged. “I didn’t give him the chance to say anything. But when I was leaving, he said, ‘The problem with games is that someone has to lose.’”
Michelle nodded. “Clever man.”
“I’m glad you think so,” she said bitterly. “Perhaps you should have accepted the bet.”
“Sorry, I’m too clever for that.”
Her jaw tightened. “I’m doing this for us because I thought the pendant was important. I don’t see you doing anything to get it back.”
“I’m saving.”
“Hell, if you had just stayed married, we could have bought it back.”
Teresa touched her hand. “Jessie, that’s not fair.”
Jessie kept her gaze on Michelle’s cool face. “What’s not fair is that she thinks this is all some sort of joke. I wanted to win. I wanted to do something important and I failed again. Is that what you want me to admit? That I’m a failure? That nothing I think of is logical and of any importance?”
“You’re not a failure,” Michelle said. “Yes, I do admit that I don’t understand the way you do things, but you do them with such conviction that I have to give you credit. However, I do not believe in degrading myself for something that can be obtained in another manner.”
“It’s too late to turn back,” Teresa said. “If she loses, she has to be Deborah’s maid for a year.”
She looked thoughtful. “Will she pay you?”
Jessie stared at her, outraged. “Michelle!”
“That’s not the point,” Teresa said. “I believe Jessie can charm Kenneth. She just needs help in how to do it. Give her tips.”
Michelle took a sip of her drink. “You just need to gain his trust. You can’t just throw yourself at him when the mood strikes you.”
“I feel like striking you right now.”
“Jessie,” Teresa warned.
“I didn’t throw myself at him, as she’d like to suggest. I was subtle and, I thought, alluring.” She glared at Michelle. “You said I had everything necessary to attract a man, so I thought he might want to kiss me. I was wrong.”
Michelle buttered a roll. “I doubt you were wrong, but you have to gain his trust before he’ll become vulnerable.”
“Kissing is not about being vulnerable. People do it all the time.”
“When you care about someone, it’s different.”
“You think he cares about me?”
“Always has.”
She rested her chin in her hands. “I see Dad wasn’t the only dreamer.”
Michelle shrugged and bit into her roll.
“Perhaps you can try to
arrange something for all of you to do together,” Teresa said.
Jessie shook her head. “He’s too busy.”
“He comes home in the evening, doesn’t he?”
“At this point, it seems that he either doesn’t come home or brings company.”
“So challenge him to something,” Michelle said. “Nobody’s been able to resist a challenge from you.”
Teresa waved her hand. “No, don’t challenge him. You’re too competitive as it is.” She folded her arms. “This will have to be your last dinner with us.”
“Why? You’re my strategic team.”
“Dinner is the perfect time to put on the charm.”
Michelle wiped the corners of her mouth. “Unless something gets caught in your teeth. Or you choke…”
Teresa shot her a warning glare. “Be quiet.” She turned to Jessie. “Listen to me. Eat dinner with him. It’s the perfect time to see how his day was and to chat. Then perhaps you can wheedle your way into his trust.”
“Under false pretenses, of course,” Michelle muttered.
Her sisters ignored her.
“Just remember your manners. Don’t reach across the table for anything.”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Michelle added.
“Don’t put your elbows on the table.”
“Don’t slurp your soup.”
Jessie licked her fingers. “I have been housebroken. Thank you.”
Teresa handed her a napkin. “Don’t do that either. You have to be charming, graceful, and above all feminine.”
Michelle crossed her arms and leaned forward. “Which means: don’t lose your temper.”
* * *
She didn’t lose her temper for an entire week. Unfortunately, whatever charm was, she obviously didn’t have it. The food was divine; the company was not. Kenneth brought his work to the table, spreading out pens, papers, manila folders, and calculating devices as if he were in a work room instead of a dining room.
On several occasions he would further disrupt the dining experience by accepting both business and family calls at the table. He would nod his head when Syrah spoke, but both she and Jessie knew that his mind was elsewhere. Though his behavior vexed her, for the first two days, Jessie said nothing. She tried to catch his attention with a coy smile or a sly glance if he looked at her, which was rare. Nothing worked. On the fourth day, she tried to engage him in conversation as he wrote his bills.