by Laura Moore
“Yo, Jordan, what are you doing?”
She jumped inches off her chair. Landing, she twisted guiltily toward Jade. “I’m, uh, checking an order for the kitchen.”
“Some order. The computer screen’s blank. I’m kind of surprised you didn’t notice. You’ve been staring at it like it holds the secret to life. Or how to get rid of cellulite permanently.”
“Oh!” Hurriedly she clicked the mouse and as the order page reappeared, made a show of going through the measurements and specs. “What time is it?” she asked. For all she knew she could have spent an hour thinking about Owen.
“Five-thirty. Thing One, Two, and Three had a good lesson. Kate’s gonna make us proud at Crestview if she continues riding this well. Speaking of shows, can I borrow a sleeveless ratcatcher for Charlottesville?”
Jordan shot her an incredulous look. “You still haven’t gone to Steadman’s?”
“Been a wee bit busy. Still am. There’s no way I can go before the show on Saturday, and the weekend’s supposed to be a scorcher.”
“Fine. You better make sure you buy one soon, though, because I may need mine at Crestview. My riding gear’s on the right-hand shelf in my closet.”
“Thanks, sis. What are we eating?”
“You’re welcome, and we’re having sausage and broccoli rabe over pasta and a tomato and basil salad. Peaches and raspberries for dessert.”
“That’d be totally yummy if we get to pull out the ice cream and brownies, too.”
“Negotiate with Margot. But I warn you, she’s been muttering about the evils of white death lately.”
“That is so Gwyneth Paltrow. Next Margot’ll be making us do those gross detoxes. I’ll let Owen know you baked last night. He’ll use some of that smooth persuasion to get the brownies on the table for sure. He’s excellent at that.”
Yes, he was, Jordan thought, trying not to smile at the computer screen. Just remembering some of his acts of smooth persuasion sent a frisson of pleasure through her. And if she didn’t blow everything by letting Owen know how she truly felt about him, she might get to experience some more of that deliciously smooth persuasion this coming weekend.
Assured that she hadn’t made any errors in the order, Jordan shut down the computer and hurried downstairs to the kitchen, where the kids would be eating a snack with Miriam. Perhaps Owen was already there, sipping iced tea and accepting the odd carrot stick or slice of apple from Max or Kate, and trying his best to ignore the offer of a sweaty Goldfish from Olivia.
Owen had a problem. Every time he saw Jordan she was more beautiful than before. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. He was supposed to be growing inured to her, perhaps even slightly bored by her company. He should be at least mentally easing his way toward the exit sign in this relationship, cracking open the door so he could slip out and be free once again.
Instead it felt like he had a coat of Gorilla Glue on the soles of his shoes.
There was no other possible explanation for why he was sitting in the kitchen. He supposed shooting the breeze with Miriam about the Airborne Toxic Event concert she and Andy were attending tonight was okay. Watching Olivia create her own toxic event by dropping Goldfish into her cup of water was not. It troubled him that he was willing to risk nausea simply because he hadn’t seen Jordan in a few hours and he knew that she’d take the back stairs down to the kitchen. From where he sat, he could see her the instant she appeared.
He wished he could reassure himself with the thought that his symptoms were caused by the fact that he still hungered for Jordan sexually. He hadn’t been inside her in days. Days that seemed like centuries since he’d touched her everywhere he wanted to, tasted her, felt her heart pounding beneath his hand, against his mouth as he kissed his way over her naked body. God, he wanted her.
The unflagging strength of his desire troubled him, too. Craving her physically was at least understandable. Sex with Jordan was as damned fantastic as any Owen had ever enjoyed. But the problem was that his need for her encompassed more than astonishingly good sex. And it left Owen feeling like he was in the throes of serious withdrawal, ragged and edgy when he wasn’t with her. Or when he couldn’t talk to her and watch her absently tuck a silken strand of reddish brown hair behind her ear while mulling over something he’d said or flipping through furniture catalogs. Or when he couldn’t see her smile … she had such an amazing smile.
So where was she?
He glanced at his watch. It was five thirty-three, definitely time for the kids’ baths. He refused to consider what knowing the kids’ routine implied, he simply focused on the fact that bath time heralded bedtime, and having them tucked in for the night was a magic moment, when he got to kiss their mommy the way he wanted to.
Her footsteps on the back stairs, quick and light, caused an answering skip to his heartbeat. The kids heard it, too, so that meant four pairs of eyes were fixed on the stairs. He was grateful for the clamor of little voices that erupted when she entered the kitchen. He didn’t want Jordan to think she was becoming important, that he was actually having a hard time envisioning himself delivering his usual friendly exit line of, “I’ve really enjoyed our time together, but …”
Why worry about that when he could focus on the flash of Jordan’s bare legs and the very nice wraparound sleeveless dress she was wearing, and bask in the knowledge that she’d chosen it for him?
“Hi,” she said, coming over to the long table where he and the children were sitting.
“Hi,” he returned happily as he rose to his feet, standing not simply because it had been drilled into him that one stood for a lady, but because if any woman inspired courtly manners, it was Jordan. A soothing sense of contentment flooded him as their gazes met. So what if indeed she’d grown more beautiful in the past three hours? As problems went, this really wasn’t a big one.
“I was double-checking the order for the kitchen. Everything’s fine. And I was able to use a software program to put together all the materials I’ve selected for the bathrooms. The marble in the master bathroom is going to look great with the slate floor. Oh, and the glass stall we decided to use for the walk-in shower in the second bathroom? Definitely a good idea. It allows you to see the river rock on the shower floor. It makes a great contrast with the other tiles we used.”
“And how about the third bathroom and those glass tiles you found?” Because he knew she’d have run the program, so she could make sure every bathroom matched her original vision.
“I think you’ll like the effect. I saved and forwarded all the pages to you.”
While she was talking, she’d been going around the table, kissing the kids, plucking the orange watery muck out of Olivia’s hands and dumping it down the disposal, and nodding as Kate and Max told her how great Doc Holliday had been. Amazing woman.
“Aunt Jade says you all are getting really good. I’m very proud of you.”
“Yeah, and Aunt Jade says we need to buy a new pony, so Kate and me can have our lesson at the same time,” Max announced happily.
“Kate and ‘I,’ Max,” Jordan corrected. Deftly sidestepping the rest of Max’s sentence, she asked Miriam, “So what time are you and Andy off?” as she wiped Olivia’s mouth and hands and freed her from the booster seat.
Owen had learned enough to brace himself. When Olivia made a drunken beeline for his knees, he put a hand out, keeping her at arm’s length so she couldn’t smear his trousers with orange spittle. And when she began talking, he nodded and said, “Uh-huh,” in response—a neat trick he’d picked up from Travis. “Uh-huh” worked wonders and was far less humiliating than being forced to make barnyard animal noises while his nose was smashed.
Olivia seemed quite pleased by his reply—if her happy grin was any indication. He smiled back warily while Jordan and Miriam continued their conversation.
“Andy and I are leaving at six-fifteen. We’re going for Tex Mex before the concert starts.”
“Which restaurant?”
“Cac
tus Cantina.”
“That sounds delicious,” Jordan pronounced. “I haven’t had Mexican in months. I may have to go buy some black beans and chiles tomorrow. Will you have time to heat the pasta dish I made for the kids’ supper before you leave?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks. Okay guys, it’s bath time.”
“I want a black pony, Mommy.”
“That’s nice, Max.” As she scooped Olivia into her arms, her fingers grazed Owen’s thighs and their eyes locked. “Uh, if you’re thirsty, there’s white wine in the fridge and a bottle of Chianti in the wine rack.”
“Thanks, I can wait.” He let his eyes tell her what he was really thirsting for. Her blush told him she’d gotten the message. “If it’s okay, I may come up and look at the mock-ups you made.”
“Sure. I printed them out, too. They’re in the Hawk Hill file to the right of my computer.”
He smiled. “I think you and I need to renegotiate your fee. You’re too good.”
Her blush deepened. “I may have to, or accept a lot more commissions if Jade keeps bringing up the subject of a new p-o-n-y.”
“That spells ‘pony,’ Mommy.”
“Yes, it does. Good for you, Kate.”
“That is great, Katiebug,” Miriam chimed in. “You know, Jordan, most kids learn how to spell ‘cat’ and ‘dog’ before graduating to ‘pony.’ ”
“Not in this family. Now, who can get upstairs fastest?”
Owen stayed in the kitchen long enough to say hi to Travis and Margot when they came in from feeding the horses before heading up to the third floor himself. He found the bathroom layouts Jordan had created and was once again impressed by her sense of style. And he couldn’t help but be pleased when he remembered that quite a few of the materials she’d selected had been on sale. She not only had a good eye, but a thrifty one.
He was going through the orders she’d placed for the living room when Max and Kate appeared at his elbow, freshly scrubbed and in striped pajamas.
“You wanna come down and have dinner with us, Owen?”
“Thanks, Max, but I need to finish looking over these orders your mom has placed for the house.”
“We’re gonna come over to your house, right, Owen?”
“Yes, I think your mom mentioned something along those lines—”
“So we can see where your horses are going to live. Do you have a tractor? We do.”
“No, I don’t have a tractor.” Owen wasn’t about to disillusion Max by telling him he didn’t have a horse, either, and that Hawk Hill wouldn’t be his for long. The kid was so happy. “You know, I think I smell your dinner.” He sniffed exaggeratedly. “Mmm, can you smell that?”
Both Max and Kate sniffed loudly.
“I bet it’s going to be pretty tasty.”
“Mommy’s a really good cook,” Kate said.
“Very true. And good food should be eaten.”
“Come on, Kate. Let’s go see if dinner’s ready.”
Owen smiled as they ran toward the stairs. If he did say so himself, he thought he was getting pretty good at this kid stuff.
When he heard their voices from the girls’ room, the highspeed babble and the easy, patient answers, signaling that Olivia’s bath was over, Owen decided he was done with waiting to see Jordan. The thought barely completed, his feet were already halfway down the carpeted hall.
Olivia was lying on the changing table, kicking one leg rhythmically while Jordan fastened the tabs to her diaper. Seeing him standing on the threshold, Olivia gave an excited shriek. Jordan quickly glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “Oh, hi. Did you look at the pages?”
He nodded. “They look great. You’re right about the river pebble and the glass shower stall. Being able to see all the contrasting textures is terrific.” He came into the room, stopping a few feet short of the changing table. Better to stay out of Olivia’s range. Even squeaky clean she was more devil than angel.
“Okay, Olivia, a little powder on your legs and tummy and then we put on your pj’s, and go down to dinner. We want to hurry so we can say bye-bye to Miriam,” Jordan said, grabbing a white plastic bottle that sat atop the dresser and squeezing a small mound of powder into her palm. With a smile she rubbed the powder onto Olivia’s tummy, neck, and wriggling limbs while Olivia giggled happily.
While Owen watched horrified.
It was over in seconds.
Jordan had Olivia’s plump legs encased in light-green-and-navy-blue-striped leggings and her torso covered in a matching top and had lifted her daughter off the table, settling her on her hip before Owen could recover from the shock.
“All set.” She smiled at him. “Are you coming down?”
With a supreme effort he tore his gaze away from the white plastic bottle. “I thought I’d double-check the order for the appliances in the kitchen first,” he managed.
She gave him a slightly puzzled look but was too polite to point out that the order had already been placed and confirmed by the distributor. They’d even scheduled a delivery date. “Okay. Come on, Olivia.”
He pretended to follow them, but as soon as Jordan’s head disappeared down the stairs, he did an about-face and marched back into the bedroom.
He made himself pick up that seemingly innocent bottle, twist the top so the holes were open, and sniff, praying all the while.
The scent wrung a groan of despair from him as Owen realized that all his problems up until now didn’t amount to a hill of beans compared to this one.
Distressing didn’t begin to describe how he felt at finally learning exactly what the haunting scent he associated with Jordan was. Baby powder. The discovery left him disoriented. Violated his very notion of self. It was like finding out that a pair of support hose really turned him on.
It gave rise to nightmarish visions of him wandering the drugstore aisle, past diapers and disposable bibs, teething rings and infant formula, to stare besottedly at that white plastic bottle with the pretty blue lettering as he summoned the memory of the way Jordan’s skin smelled in the shadowed valley of her breasts, of how he loved to drag his mouth over that exquisitely smooth territory from her hip bone to the triangle of dark curls, inhaling deeply as everything in him went a little crazy with lust. Thanks so bloody much, Johnson & Johnson.
He couldn’t help but feel betrayed, angry even, as if he were the butt of some awful joke. What the hell did it say about him, just how screwed up his internal wiring was to go weak-kneed whenever he caught a whiff of Jordan’s “signature” scent? A scent that wasn’t a special formula created exclusively for her by a master parfumeur in Grasse, but the stuff she sprinkled on her chubby baby’s butt and barrel-shaped tummy? If he’d lacked sufficient motivation to end things between Jordan and him, he now had more than enough reason.
He carefully put the offensive bottle back exactly where he’d found it, determined no one should guess that he’d literally been sniffing around. As a point of pride, he refused to show how unsettled he was when he went down to the kitchen. Luckily no one noticed. Margot and Travis were supervising the kids’ meal, while Jordan prepared the grownups’ dinner.
“Tim Mitchell called, Jordan, to ask if he could come by and see Cascade on Saturday. I told him that Margot and I would be down in Charlottesville, but he seems really keen on coming.”
“Ned and I can show him Cascade.” Turning to look at Owen, she said, “Would you like some wine?”
“Please, but I’ll get it.” Better not to get close to her, he might catch her scent and lose it completely. “How about you?”
“Maybe after I’ve put the kids to bed.”
“I’ll open it and let it breathe then.” Just as long as he didn’t breathe.
“So this is what, the fourth time Tim’s come out to see Cascade?” Jordan asked, picking up the thread of the conversation with Travis.
Owen stilled. This Tim Mitchell had been coming around an awful lot lately. And though Cascade was a really nice colt, Owen couldn’
t help but wonder if Mitchell’s interest didn’t extend beyond Rosewood Farm’s horses to Jordan.
If so, that meant the morons of Warburg had finally caught on to the fact that she was incredible. Nonie and that wagging tongue of hers doubtless had something to do with it. Hearing that Jordan Radcliffe wasn’t living in self-imposed abstinence must have been the signal these lamebrains were waiting for to get off their asses, pick up the phone, and dial Rosewood Farm. Coming to check out the horses was a perfect excuse.
While Jordan, Margot, and Travis were obviously happy at the idea that Tim Mitchell might be serious about Cascade, Owen was more interested in figuring the whole of his game plan.
“I think Tim’s getting ready to make an offer. I’ll call him and let him know Saturday’s fine, then.”
“Wow,” Jordan said. “First Solstice and now Cascade. It’d be pretty neat to sell two horses in as many weeks.”
“Yeah, and I have a feeling Bob may be back with another client for Beat the Clock.”
“How are you with Tim buying Cascade, Margot?” Jordan asked before tacking on an explanation for Owen’s benefit. “Cascade is Mystique’s first foal.”
“And Mystique is Margot’s horse,” Max told him. “She had a pony, too.”
“That’s right, Max. My pony’s name was Suzy Q. I adored her,” Margot answered as she went around the table clearing the children’s dessert plates. “Travis, hon, could you wipe Olivia’s mouth? She missed with the strawberries a couple of times. I guess I’m okay with Tim buying Cascade,” she said, answering Jordan’s question. Carrying the dishes to the kitchen sink, she maneuvered around Owen. “So, Owen, how’s the house coming?”
He drew the cork out of the wine bottle with a pop. “It’s going well. The electrician’s finished with the wiring, and Doug and Jesse have replaced the old plumbing so the baths and kitchen will be ready when the materials arrive. We installed a new furnace two days ago. So I’d say things are proceeding even better than I hoped. Oh, by the way, Travis, I ordered those stall doors you recommended. I’ll let you know when they arrive.”