have to come back now? As she studied his face, his eyes grew dark. Worry lines shadowed the corners of his eyes.
Merrilee came up behind Jenny and put a strong arm around her shoulders. "What do you want, Mr. Sheridan?" Merrilee asked.
Luke didn't answer Merrilee. His attention was focused solely on Jenny, as if he could see right through to her soul. Luke had always read her so well. She didn't want him to read her now, didn't want him to know how strongly he affected her. It had been thirteen years since she had been this close to him. She shouldn't be feeling anything, but she was.
He smelled like her youth, like warm summer days and hot sultry nights. His voice took her back to bonfires on the beach, to love songs played on an old guitar. Her gaze traveled down his body to his hands, to the strong, capable hands that had played her like a fine instrument.
Jenny closed her eyes and felt dizzy. Her body swayed. If Merrilee hadn't been holding her up, she probably would have crumpled to the ground. It was too much to take in. Danny's accident. Now Luke.
"Jenny, Jenny," Merrilee said with a shake. "Are you all right?"
Jenny opened her eyes again, hoping he was gone. He wasn't. "I'm fine," she muttered.
"What are you doing here?" Merrilee asked Luke. "Can't you see you're upsetting her? Go away."
"I can't go away. I have to speak to Jenny."
"She's upset. She can't talk to you right now."
"It's important."
Jenny watched the play between them like a tennis match.
"I want to speak to Jenny -- alone," Luke said firmly.
"Anything you have to say can be said in front of me. I'm her sister, in case you've forgotten."
"How could I forget? You're quite the protector."
"Someone has to take care of her."
Jenny straightened at her sister's words. They were talking about her as if she were a child. "What do you want, Luke?"
"Jenny, you don't have to talk to him," Merrilee protested.
"It's okay."
"I saw an article in the paper," Luke said. "A boy was hit by a car. Your son?"
Jenny slowly nodded. "Yes. Danny." Her voice caught.
Luke took an impulsive step forward, his hand reaching out to her.
Jenny stiffened, feeling the pull between them as strongly as he did.
Luke stopped abruptly. He lowered his arm and dug his hands into the pockets of his slacks, wrinkling his fine suit coat in the process.
"How -- how is he?" Luke asked.
"Not good. He has a head injury."
"Jenny, why don't you sit down?" Merrilee suggested. "You can speak to Mr. Sheridan later -- much later."
"Jenny, I need to talk to you alone, just for a moment."
Jenny hesitated, her brain sending out a thousand screaming warnings to say no. But Luke sounded desperate, and it wasn't an emotion she had ever associated with him.
"Merrilee, could you get me some coffee?" she asked.
"What?" her sister replied, completely incensed. "You want me to leave?"
"I can handle this."
"Jenny, no."
"A cup of coffee. Five minutes."
Merrilee sighed. "Five minutes," she warned as she passed Luke.
A full minute passed before Luke said anything at all. Jenny stared at the buttons on his shirt, at the crease in his slacks, at his expensive Italian shoes, anywhere and everywhere but at his face. With any luck, Merrilee would be back before he opened his mouth.
"You look -- just the same," he said finally.
They weren't the words she had expected to hear. But they were safe words, and she was grateful.
"Hardly. I'm older now."
"You don't look it. Your hair, it's the same color as dark chocolate. I think of you every time ..." His voice drifted away, and he shook his head in a punishing gesture.
"Why are you here?" Jenny asked.
His face tightened at her words. "I think Danny came to see me yesterday."
Jenny swallowed hard, trying not to show any emotion. "I doubt that. He doesn't even know you."
"A boy came to the door yesterday afternoon, but my wife answered it."
"Your wife." The words cut her so deeply, Jenny sat down on the edge of the couch. His wife. Of
Merrilee came up behind Jenny and put a strong arm around her shoulders. "What do you want, Mr. Sheridan?" Merrilee asked.
Luke didn't answer Merrilee. His attention was focused solely on Jenny, as if he could see right through to her soul. Luke had always read her so well. She didn't want him to read her now, didn't want him to know how strongly he affected her. It had been thirteen years since she had been this close to him. She shouldn't be feeling anything, but she was.
He smelled like her youth, like warm summer days and hot sultry nights. His voice took her back to bonfires on the beach, to love songs played on an old guitar. Her gaze traveled down his body to his hands, to the strong, capable hands that had played her like a fine instrument.
Jenny closed her eyes and felt dizzy. Her body swayed. If Merrilee hadn't been holding her up, she probably would have crumpled to the ground. It was too much to take in. Danny's accident. Now Luke.
"Jenny, Jenny," Merrilee said with a shake. "Are you all right?"
Jenny opened her eyes again, hoping he was gone. He wasn't. "I'm fine," she muttered.
"What are you doing here?" Merrilee asked Luke. "Can't you see you're upsetting her? Go away."
"I can't go away. I have to speak to Jenny."
"She's upset. She can't talk to you right now."
"It's important."
Jenny watched the play between them like a tennis match.
"I want to speak to Jenny -- alone," Luke said firmly.
"Anything you have to say can be said in front of me. I'm her sister, in case you've forgotten."
"How could I forget? You're quite the protector."
"Someone has to take care of her."
Jenny straightened at her sister's words. They were talking about her as if she were a child. "What do you want, Luke?"
"Jenny, you don't have to talk to him," Merrilee protested.
"It's okay."
"I saw an article in the paper," Luke said. "A boy was hit by a car. Your son?"
Jenny slowly nodded. "Yes. Danny." Her voice caught.
Luke took an impulsive step forward, his hand reaching out to her.
Jenny stiffened, feeling the pull between them as strongly as he did.
Luke stopped abruptly. He lowered his arm and dug his hands into the pockets of his slacks, wrinkling his fine suit coat in the process.
"How -- how is he?" Luke asked.
"Not good. He has a head injury."
"Jenny, why don't you sit down?" Merrilee suggested. "You can speak to Mr. Sheridan later -- much later."
"Jenny, I need to talk to you alone, just for a moment."
Jenny hesitated, her brain sending out a thousand screaming warnings to say no. But Luke sounded desperate, and it wasn't an emotion she had ever associated with him.
"Merrilee, could you get me some coffee?" she asked.
"What?" her sister replied, completely incensed. "You want me to leave?"
"I can handle this."
"Jenny, no."
"A cup of coffee. Five minutes."
Merrilee sighed. "Five minutes," she warned as she passed Luke.
A full minute passed before Luke said anything at all. Jenny stared at the buttons on his shirt, at the crease in his slacks, at his expensive Italian shoes, anywhere and everywhere but at his face. With any luck, Merrilee would be back before he opened his mouth.
"You look -- just the same," he said finally.
They weren't the words she had expected to hear. But they were safe words, and she was grateful.
"Hardly. I'm older now."
"You don't look it. Your hair, it's the same color as dark chocolate. I think of you every time ..." His voice drifted away, and he shook his head in a punishing gesture.
"Why are you here?" Jenny asked.
His face tightened at her words. "I think Danny came to see me yesterday."
Jenny swallowed hard, trying not to show any emotion. "I doubt that. He doesn't even know you."
"A boy came to the door yesterday afternoon, but my wife answered it."
"Your wife." The words cut her so deeply, Jenny sat down on the edge of the couch. His wife. Of
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