Baby Bequest. Robyn GradyЧитать онлайн книгу.
too close for too long, he was bad for anyone.
Three
The next day Jenna accepted Gage’s hand and let him help her out from his black imported coupe onto the sidewalk that surrounded her stepmother’s apartment building. Peering up at the top floor, she sucked in a nervous breath and straightened her conservative, pale blue dress.
She hated conservative. A T-shirt and jeans suited her far better. But denim would look decidedly out of place today alongside Gage’s craftsman-cut suit. Not that his long, powerful legs wouldn’t still look exceptional in faded hip-riding Levi’s. Whenever she’d seen him during that summer long ago, hunched over the open bonnet of his eighties model Ford—his broad, bare back glistening and brown—she’d practically melted.
“We don’t need to do this today.” He placed a warm palm between her shoulder blades. “You can give yourself another day or two.”
His words, and touch, almost melted her now. And after yesterday, when he’d stood so close and had spoken about affection in public and sexual compatibility, she was certain any significant physical contact between them would be as dangerous as ever. Yet, for the sake of authenticity leading up to their “marriage,” he’d made it clear they needed to play, and play well, at being lovers.
So how soon before he brought her close to him? How soon before they kissed?
“After hearing your lawyer’s advice half an hour ago,” she said, forcing herself to focus, “seeing Leeann sooner is definitely better than later.”
He walked in step beside her. “Lance sounded more than optimistic about our chances.”
She clutched her handbag to her chest. Her stomach was a constantly churning ball of nerves. “I’m not sure he bought the reunited lovers story.”
She wasn’t any more certain Leeann would. Jenna loathed being deceived and hated deceiving anyone else. But as Gage had pointed out, these were desperate times. And the next few weeks weren’t to benefit herself but her niece. Despite the guardianship directive, in her heart she knew Amy would have given more than her blessing—she’d have been cheering her on every step of the way.
Gage sent her a lopsided trust me smile that made Jenna’s heart skip a beat. “My lawyer isn’t the one who counts. We need to convince Leeann that we’re serious and she’s in for one hell of a fight if she doesn’t consent to handing Meg over. She’ll back down.”
Jenna wasn’t so sure. “Leeann had three miscarriages early on. I can’t see her simply handing over what she wants more than anything.” She glared straight ahead. “All the better if she thought it hurt me.”
He swung open the building’s pedestrian gate and ushered her through. “Leeann can be a possessive and spiteful woman.”
Curious, she stepped under the bridge of his arm into the neat sandstone courtyard. “I didn’t realize you knew her that well.”
“I know enough.”
Possessive…spiteful. Could he really help her get custody of Meg from Leeann? Jenna knew where her niece belonged, and not purely because she was kin. She’d never liked or trusted Leeann. Her skin crawled to think of Amy’s daughter growing up with a woman who’d reminded her of a prickly, well-dressed praying mantis. She wondered how her father had ever fallen in love with such a woman when her mother had been so sweet and giving—so much like Amy.
They stopped before the building intercom. He gazed down at her, one imperious eyebrow raised. “You ready?”
“No,” she replied. “Are you?”
He grinned, slow and sexy. “I’m looking forward to it.”
While he buzzed, Jenna wrung her purse and told herself to breathe, just breathe. It didn’t help. Would all this subterfuge blow up in her face? Could this hurt her chances with Meg rather than help?
Perhaps she needed more time to think it over.
“Maybe we should have called,” she reasoned, “to let her know we were coming.”
“No. We should let her enjoy the surprise.”
Like the way he’d surprised her yesterday, by showing up unannounced then suggesting they get married? Gage had let her know that he had no intention of finishing what they’d started all those years ago: he didn’t plan to seduce her. A big part of her—the pride-filled part—rejoiced. She’d been a fragile teenager when he’d left her love for him high and dry; she hadn’t thought she would ever recover.
Yet a more reckless side remembered the feel of his hard, hot chest, the way his shadowed jaw had grazed a delicious path along her skin. What would it be like to enjoy the penetrating pleasure of his kiss again? Would it feel different now that they were older?
The intercom clicked and Leeann’s voice purred out. “I’m busy. Come back later.”
Gage leant closer. “Mrs. Darley, this is Gage Cameron. I’m with Jenna. May we come up? We won’t take more than a few minutes of your time.”
A torturous silence stretched out. Jenna imagined her stepmother’s mind spinning at the name from the past, connecting it with “multimillionaire” then wondering why the heck he was troubling her almost two weeks after her husband’s death.
The intercom snapped again. “I really am stretched for time.”
Jenna set her teeth. She was so over Leeann’s lady-of-the-house routine. She’d been over it years ago. Today, for her niece’s sake, she wouldn’t tolerate it.
She spoke directly at the grill. “We’ve come to see Meg.”
Large hands on Jenna’s shoulders tugged her back. Gage’s slight frown said, I’ll handle this. “Mrs. Darley, I’m on a tight schedule, too. We would appreciate a few moments.”
Jenna had all but given up when the door buzzed, and her high-strung nerves loosened a knot. Gage shouldered the jamb and swept Jenna inside the building. At the lift, he punched the up arrow.
Threading his hands before him, he gazed at the light passing down the floors—so cool—while she felt ready to dissolve like a sandcastle smashed by a succession of waves. But this morning, whenever her mind had funneled down into grief-stricken thoughts over losing her father and sister, she’d ordered herself to think only of Meg. More resolute than ever, she did that now.
Beside her, Gage rocked back on his heels. “Why did you cut your hair?”
His question threw her. She looked over at his classically chiseled profile—the straight nose and firm jaw angled up as he watched the lift light blink down.
“I’m sorry,” she stammered, “what did you just say?”
He looked at her, the same way he had yesterday—evaluating, wondering. Dangerous and sultry. “When I left, your hair was a thick wavy river down your back.”
What on earth?
Gathering herself, she forced her eyes away from his and dead ahead. “Most places I stay don’t have dryers. It was difficult to manage.”
“It was beautiful.”
The breath caught in her chest. Was he doing this deliberately—putting her off-guard, now of all times? Or was he setting the mood for their performance in front of Leeann? Either explanation made her less than comfortable. In fact, it made her highly uncomfortable.
She blew a wave off her damp forehead and concentrated on the cold metallic doors. “My hair isn’t important.”
“I liked when you wore it out, wild and tangled.”
“It’s much easier tame and shorter.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him appraise her, from crown to toe, before he peered back at the lift light. “You should let it grow.”