by Laura Moore
“Yeah, ’cause in case you hadn’t noticed this is horse country, dude,” Jade pronounced triumphantly as she took a huge bite of her lemon square.
“Thanks for the news flash,” Owen replied.
To his credit, he didn’t seem terribly taken aback by Jade’s attitude. Jordan guessed it was only little children who scared the daylights out of him.
“I did notice that Rosewood’s barns are almost as impressive as this house,” he continued mildly. “Could it be possible I’m hearing from a biased constituency?”
“Guilty as charged,” Travis said. “So you should ask Jordan. She doesn’t have a biased bone in her body, does she, Margot?”
“Jordan’s definitely the fairest of us all.”
“Yeah, she only tosses her iced tea at people who really deserve it,” Jade chimed in, snorting with amusement.
Jordan’s face flamed as all eyes turned to her. She even felt the weight of Owen’s gaze on her. Of course it would be now that he’d decide to look at her. And she was pretty sure she’d caught him smiling into his dessert plate when Margot said that nonsense about her being the fairest. She supposed she should be grateful he hadn’t fallen out of his chair laughing. Fairest was not the word that came to mind when in the presence of Margot and Jade. Try plain as vanilla ice cream (which she happened to love), boring. Those terms fit to a T. If only everyone would hurry up and finish dessert, she would have an excuse to clear the plates and stay in the kitchen until her flaming cheeks cooled.
“So what’s the verdict, Jordan? Barn or dumb garage for city folk?”
There were times when she was sorely tempted to suggest Jade put a sock in it. “You and Travis are right. If Hawk Hill were closer to town, like the Harrisons’ Overlea, the lack of a barn wouldn’t matter. But someone buying out here will presumably be interested in what the open country offers, and in Warburg that means either fox hunting or hacking over fields and trails. The horse barn should be renovated.”
Owen inclined his dark head as if her opinion alone was enough to convince him. “There’s only one hitch. I don’t know anything about barn design.”
“That’s easily solved,” Margot said. “Come and look at ours. Travis and Ned can give you tips on the best designs, too, can’t you, hon?”
For a woman who valued her privacy more than most, Margot was being unusually friendly. Jordan could only conclude that Owen must have been at his most charming while Margot was showing him the house, except that Margot wasn’t the type to be easily snowed, and Jade even less so. The teen had an ultra-sensitive BS meter. Even more baffling, though, was that Travis seemed to like him, and Owen didn’t even ride.
It occurred to Jordan that perhaps the three of them were being gracious to him because of her, that they believed something might be brewing between them. Or, worse still, that they wanted something to develop.
If so, how embarrassing to be the object of their matchmaking. Couldn’t they see that Owen was all wrong for her? A pretty big clue was that he was a womanizer. On top of that, he seemed positively allergic to children.
“I might just take you up on that offer,” Owen said to Margot. “Coming over here and studying the layout of your barns would be a nice way to finish off a day’s work at Hawk Hill.”
Her fingers suddenly nerveless, Jordan’s fork landed on her plate with a loud clatter. “You’re going to be working at Hawk Hill? As in a physical presence there?” she asked, feeling all the self-consciousness of a teenager at pronouncing the word physical. The man had the worst effect on her. Surely by now she should have been able to shake the memory of his body pressed against hers.
Wasn’t this interesting, Owen thought. A good three hours and change had elapsed since Jordan had addressed more than four words to him. Since the deceptively simple kiss they’d shared, one that packed enough heat to fry one’s mind, she had been doing her best to ignore him.
To be honest, he’d been relieved to step back and distance himself, at least until he was satisfied he was completely over the kiss. But hours had passed and he had yet to forget a single second of it, or the way she’d felt in his arms. So he took a certain satisfaction in letting Jordan know that he was very much going to be around Hawk Hill.
“I’ve developed a habit of living in the houses I’m restoring. It allows me to get a real feel for period details so that the restoration work is as authentic as possible. It’s more convenient, too. I can work on the house at pretty much any time I want, day or night. I like that kind of flexibility.”
Jordan seemed to have lost the capability of speech. Not so her sisters.
“Isn’t that rather unusual?” Margot asked. “What happens when they’re working on the kitchen and baths?”
“Like, don’t you make enough to afford a house of your own? Sis, you’d better make sure he doesn’t stiff you.”
“Living in a house while I’m restoring it may be a bit unorthodox, but it works for me. That’s the bonus of being the head of your own firm. I get to do what I want.”
As he answered Margot and Jade’s questions, he was aware of Jordan’s continued silence. He’d really thrown her for a loop this time. Good. What in hell was wrong with her that she would decree a ban on any future kisses? A pleasure of that magnitude deserved to be explored to its very limits. But not according to Ms. Jordan Radcliffe …
A prude, that’s what she was.
She didn’t kiss like a prude, a niggling voice reminded Owen.
No, damn it, she didn’t. She kissed with a sweet sinfulness that had made him go hard and aching the instant her lips parted for him. He hadn’t been that turned on by a kiss since he was … that he couldn’t remember that far back was one more reason to be aggravated by her irrational dictates. And if she kissed like that, he could only imagine how responsive she would be when she made love. He took a long sip of ice water to cool his thoughts.
“So where do you live, when you’re not working on a house?”
“I have an apartment over the firm’s office in Alexandria.”
“And your family’s from Virginia originally?”
Careful as he was to avoid entanglements, being subjected to the third degree was for him as novel an experience as meeting the family of one of his lovers. Since he wasn’t even involved with Jordan, Margot’s grilling both amused and exasperated.
Her sisters and her brother-in-law had clearly appointed themselves Jordan’s protectors. Even the old gent, Ned Connolly, who Owen gathered was Rosewood Farm’s second-in-command, had given him the distinct impression that he would come after him with a pitchfork if he gave Jordan a second’s distress.
It was interesting that none of them seemed to realize that Jordan was very much a grown woman. But while Owen’s parents might have been better at raising dachshunds or growing orchids, they hadn’t produced a total fool. He wasn’t going to rile the Rosewood clan or mess with any of them individually. Travis Maher looked more than capable of going at it hammer and tongs; Jade would probably slash his tires. He couldn’t guess how Margot would retaliate, but something warned him to underestimate her at his peril. If she wanted to do a background check, he’d provide a few answers.
“I don’t really have a family home. My father’s a career diplomat in the Foreign Service, so my parents are what you’d call permanent ex-pat nomads.”
“Oh. Where are they now?”
“Warsaw.”
“Wow. Cool.”
Owen smiled at Jade. “They like the life.”
“So you must’ve traveled around a lot growing up.”
“Yeah, quite a bit.”
“That would definitely be cool,” Jade repeated. “I’d be totally into saying ‘sayonara’ to my fellow inmates at Warburg High right now. They’re all either loser dweebs or evil, vicious, and malicious bit—”
Jordan seemed to have recovered from the shock of hearing he’d be at Hawk Hill on a daily basis and jumped into the conversation before her kid sister could finish that particular declarati
on. “So, Jade, I was at Steadman’s today. I gave Adam your chaps. He’s going to have Brian call you tomorrow as soon as they’re ready so you can pick them up. I wouldn’t call Brian a loser dweeb—”
“Definitely not,” Margot chimed in. “And he’s a good rider, isn’t he, Travis?”
Owen had already witnessed how seriously they took anything related to horses and riding. Leaning against the rail of the outdoor riding ring, he’d watched a scene that might be nothing more than routine to this family, but that possessed the marvel of an equestrian circus fused with the disciplined movements of the cavalry. At Owen’s end of the ring, Jordan’s little boy bounced around and around on a shiny dark bay pony that was attached to a long longe line, a beatific expression illuminating his freckled face as he followed Jade’s instructions. The girl, Kate, stood beside her, a pigtailed version of her aunt’s utter seriousness. Her little face was a study in concentration, as if she were memorizing her aunt’s every instruction to her brother in preparation for her own lesson. It stunned him that for the half hour of Max’s lesson, Kate never fidgeted or whined that it was her turn to ride.
When Max’s jouncing grew too painful to watch, Owen let his gaze stray to the others. Here was a lesson to be learned: if you started bouncing in the saddle at about Max’s age and somehow survived irreparable damage, you might, if you were very lucky, end up being able to sit a horse like Margot Radcliffe or Travis Maher.
Of course, the real trick would be to ride beautifully and fluidly with a maniac toddler clasped in front of you. The incumbrance daunted neither Margot nor her husband. They took turns passing Olivia between them whenever they slowed their horses to a walk. The maneuver was done with the ease of long-standing habit, this equestrian method of babysitting clearly as natural to them as cantering over the brightly painted jumps positioned around the center of the ring. Owen bet they’d have been equally able to make a circus act out of it, tossing Olivia from one rider’s lap to the next, the toddler chortling with fearless glee as she flew through the air.
Travis nodded in response to Margot’s question. “Brian’s got serious talent. He did really well at the horse trails at Crestview last month. He and Castlerock won the crosscountry and came in third overall.”
“Yeah, and guess who has the major hots for him? My BFF, Blair Hood.” Jade’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “So thanks but no thanks—not that I’d want to go out on a date with him anyway. I’ve got better ways to waste my time, like going bowling with God.” At this she glanced at the clunky watch strapped to her wrist and jumped out of her seat. “Speaking of which, I gotta fly. The Rev had to bring his car into the shop so I’m driving. Think Robocop will give me a ticket if he catches me speeding with the Lord’s main man as my copilot?”
“You could have the whole heavenly host crammed into that car and Rob Cooper would still nail you, so don’t even think about it,” Margot fired back. “Really, Jade, I am serious. You do not want to mess with him.”
“Jeesh, you need to chill. After all, Robo would have to catch me first.” With a grin that probably struck terror in the hearts of her two older sisters, she snagged another lemon square and sauntered out of the dining room. Seconds later, the sound of her feet hammering the wooden steps as she raced up the stairs reached them.
“Dear God, why did she have to inherit Nicole’s Porsche?” Margot asked to no one in particular.
Travis reached out and placed his hand over hers. “She’s just razzing you. Didn’t you see how much she wanted to avoid talking about Brian Steadman? Bringing up Robo—uh, Rob was a guaranteed diversion. Anyway, getting pulled over for a speeding ticket is way too tame for Jade. When she screws up, it’s on a grand scale.”
Margot frowned at her husband. “Thanks. I find that so reassuring.”
Owen cleared his throat. “Excuse me, I know this is none of my business, but I just have to ask. What is bowling with God?”
Owen earned a rare smile from Jordan for having steered the conversation away from Jade’s penchant for trouble. “Jade and our minister, Reverend Wilde, have struck up an odd friendship. After the plane crash we arranged to have Jade talk to him, hoping it would help her with her grief. The reverend’s an unusual man. Once Jade got comfortable with him, he suggested they go bowling together. He thinks it’s a healthy and safe way for her to release some of the anger inside her.”
Owen considered the idea, taking into account Jade’s character. “Whatever works. I remember I had a drawing teacher at boarding school who counseled going into the school woods, taking a big stick, and whacking the daylights out of the rocky outcrops. Knocking down pins might be even better.”
Margot nodded. “The competitive aspect works for Jade. She and Stuart Wilde have a standing rule that whoever loses buys the pizza for the week. I hope the man doesn’t go broke. So, you went to a boarding school?”
“Yes.”
Jordan noticed the look in Margot’s eye and realized her sister was all set for another round of cross-examining Owen. This was really getting to be too much. “Would anyone like more coffee?” she asked.
Margot would not be diverted. “Was your school in Europe?”
“No, here.”
“So you went back to wherever your parents were posted during the school vacations?”
Owen shook his head. “No, I was on a scholarship and airline tickets were pretty steep back then. But I had roommates who invited me to their homes over the breaks. It was interesting to see how other families lived.”
Jordan found Owen’s casual answers, and the picture they painted of what must have been a lonely childhood, disturbing. As Margot looked ready to continue peppering him with questions, Jordan decided it was past time she cut her off. She stood and began to clear the dessert plates and coffee cups. Margot and Travis immediately rose to help.
Owen followed suit, brushing away objections. “I usually have to pay to enjoy a meal this delicious, so let me at least help with the dishes.”
That was nice of him, Jordan thought, though she rather wished he wouldn’t be so gallant. Then she wouldn’t feel conflicted in the least. But knowing he was going to be staying at Hawk Hill, and how appealing he could be, would only make it harder for her to ignore her physical attraction to him.
“If you offer to do the dishes around Jade, she’ll probably pay you to have dinner with us,” Travis said, taking two fruit-stained plates from him and putting them in the dishwasher.
Owen grinned. “I’ll be sure to mention my love of a well-scrubbed pot.”
“You do pots? That settles it, then,” Margot said lightly. “You have a standing invitation. Right, Jordan?”
Oh, no, she thought. “Of course,” she replied.
Once the kitchen was set to rights, Margot and Travis said good-bye to Owen. “Time for us to do the barn check,” Margot explained. “It was nice to meet you, Owen.”
“The pleasure was mine. Thanks for showing me the house. You and your sisters have done a great thing in trying to keep it in the family.”
“Thanks.” Margot smiled. “Come again soon.”
Travis shook his hand. “Good to meet you, Owen. Ned and I will be happy to answer any questions you have about renovating the barn at Hawk Hill.”
With their departure, Owen noted that Jordan’s skittishness ratcheted up several degrees. She tried to hide it by vigorously wiping the pristine counters and arranging the folded dishtowels hanging over the oven door just so, but he was beginning to be able to read her.
“So, is tomorrow morning a good time for you to come over to Hawk Hill?” he asked.
“Oh … yes, I can be there at about a quarter past nine. Olivia’s sitter comes at nine o’clock.”
“Sounds good. I’d like to start on the kitchens and bathrooms to get the materials ordered as soon as possible.”
“Okay,” she said, nodding.
It was as he’d thought. She calmed down as soon as he brought up the job, which meant she’d been half-ex
pecting him to make a pass. He was exceedingly sorry to disappoint, but he hadn’t a clue how long a barn check took and he wasn’t about to have her sister and brother-in-law barging in. “We should also discuss your fee. But I’ll let you see the rooms first so you get a better sense of the work involved.”
“Oh … I … well, yes, I suppose that’s best.”
And she was clearly uncomfortable about charging people for a talent that was obviously natural.
Remarkably, having deciphered a small part of Jordan’s personality only made Owen interested in figuring out the rest of what made this incredibly beautiful woman tick. For instance, he couldn’t help wondering how she’d react when he kissed her again. And whether she’d taste just as sweet.
SHE HAD TO APPLY her makeup extra carefully the next morning. Nervous about meeting Owen at Hawk Hill and providing ideas for a man whose tastes were more discriminating than any audience she’d previously faced, she had sat in front of her computer until well past midnight, surfing design sites and jotting down ideas in her notebook. Still not satisfied, she had leafed through her collection of catalogs, magazines, fabric samples, and color wheels, knowing perfectly well that any ideas she had now would most likely undergo a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree shift once she was actually in the rooms and able to take in their size and gauge the quality of the light in them. Still, it was better to have some ideas, lousy as they might be, to ground her and provide a starting point. Her biggest fear was that she’d walk into Hawk Hill and draw a mortifying blank, unable to see anything but Owen, unable to think of anything but how he’d kissed her and how strangely, perversely disappointed she was by the fact that he hadn’t betrayed the slightest interest in repeating the experience.
The hours of research should have calmed her. They didn’t. Exhausted, she had fallen asleep to dream of strange rooms, each one more bizarrely decorated than the previous. She’d struggled to rouse herself only to be caught in the grip of a new set of dreams that shook her to the core. They were of Owen. For some reason her unconscious had changed him into a little boy, an adorable boy of about nine or ten, his hair neatly combed, and wearing what she recognized as a school uniform. His eyes were huge in his child’s face, his mouth pressed into a tight, rigid line. He was walking alone along the boulevard of a foreign city—one she couldn’t identify—looking up at the adults rushing past. She knew instinctively that he was lost, exhausted, and afraid but too proud to stop one of the harried grownups and ask for help.