Have You Seen Her? (19 page)

Jenna closed her eyes and quietly blew out a breath, all the anxiety she’d worked out of her system returning with a vengeance.
She’d forgotten about him.

After agonizing all day about what she’d wear, what he’d do, how she’d respond . . . Heat throbbed through her body, completely overriding the chill of the night. And she’d forgotten about him. She opened her eyes and lifted her gaze to where he stood, arms crossed tightly, staring down at her. Even from three floors down she could see he was angry.

She scrunched her brows together, searching his face.
More angry than he has a right to be over a missed dinner,
she thought, puzzled. Then Mrs. Kasselbaum appeared at his side looking decidedly guilty herself and it all became crystal clear.

Old biddy,
she grimaced and started up the stairs two at a time, wincing every time her left foot took her weight. She’d wrapped it, but the pummeling she’d given poor Mark had made it throb almost as badly as when she first fell down. When she’d made it to her front door she threw a disgusted glance at Mrs. Kasselbaum who dropped her eyes to the floor.

“As you can see, I’m home safely, Mrs. Kasselbaum. You can go back to your stories now.”

Mrs. Kasselbaum looked up, bristling. “I was watching the evening news. Not stories.”

“Whatever. You’ve caused enough trouble.” Jenna raised a brow. “Don’t you agree?”

“I
tried
to tell him the karate man didn’t mean anything.”

Jenna bit her tongue.
Old biddy.
“Mrs. Kasselbaum. Please.” Finding her key, she opened her front door to where Jim and Jean-Luc sat obediently, bodies quivering, awaiting her slightest command.
If only the whole world could be like dogs,
she thought.
Life would certainly be

simpler.
Then she looked back to where Steven Thatcher still stood and her heart did a slow roll in her chest.
Simpler perhaps, but not nearly as interesting.
He still had his arms crossed over his chest. A plastic bag with the name of a local hardware store dangled from one of his big hands.

“Come in, Steven. Please.”

Steven hesitated, looked over to where Mrs. Kasselbaum nodded vigorously, then back to where Jenna stood still.

She
had
said please. So he followed her into her apartment.

She shut her door and gestured to the dogs who in turn stood, nuzzled her hand, and went off to curl up on their dog beds in the corner. She met his eyes soberly.

“I’m sorry,” she began without preamble. “Once again I’ve been rude.”

His anger began to fizzle. “We never agreed on a time.” He shrugged. “Maybe I’m early.”

Her lips curved up. “Maybe you are. Can I explain what happened? It’s not what you think.”

“What do you think I think?” he countered.

She didn’t look away and his anger fizzled a little more. “That I was off with someone else when I’d said I would go to dinner with you. That I’m unreliable and undependable and quite possibly a liar.” She lifted a brow. “Am I close?”

Steven nodded. “Close,” he admitted.

Jenna sighed. “Mrs. Kasselbaum told you she saw me leave with another man, right?”

“With a gorgeous body.”

Jenna laughed softly. “I’m sure his wife thinks so.” “He’s married?” Steven didn’t know whether to be relieved or horrified.

“Very much so. I was a bridesmaid in their wedding.” She walked over to the wall she’d covered with photographs and plucked one off. “Mark and Susan. Mark was my late fiancé’s best friend. Our group of friends used to have so much fun,” she said wistfully. “I don’t see most of the old group anymore. But Mark is my
sensei
. My karate master,” she added, “so I see him a few times a week.” She took the snapshot and slipped it back on its nail on the wall.

When she turned around, a frown wrinkled her forehead. She paced by him to stare out the picture window to the parking lot below. “I’ve had a couple more bad days at school. Nothing too serious. Just a string of pranks. But tonight they did something to A—to my car. I was so . . . mad.” She paced back, stopping to look up, concern in her eyes this time. “I’m glad none of those boys was around because I might have done something I’d truly be sorry for. I was so angry I needed to hit something. So I called Mark. I’d missed my workout on Saturday because of my ankle, so he picked me up for a sparring session.”

Steven relaxed. “Did you win?”

Her mouth curved. “Against Mark? Of course not. But I got in my fair share and that’s what I needed. I’m sorry I was late and forgot to call you.”

“You wouldn’t have gotten me anyway. I was out all day.”

They each drew a breath and laughed awkwardly. Then the laughter pattered away, leaving the two of them staring at each other. Steven watched her eyes widen and dilate, her cheeks blush rose and her pulse flutter once again at the hollow of her throat. And once again his body responded, his erection hard and full against his zipper. She blinked then, the tip of her tongue stealing out to moisten her bottom lip and he bit back both the groan and the urge to let his own tongue follow the path hers had taken.

Jenna cleared her throat. “So . . . is my apology accepted?” she asked, her voice barely more than a breathy murmur and he clenched his jaw.

She really wants this.

Steven, wait.

Shit.
He hated when his conscience was right. Knowing it was for the best, he forced a grin and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Of course.”

Jenna blinked. She’d been sure he was about to lean forward and kiss her. She’d all but lifted herself on her toes to meet him halfway. “Just like that?” she asked, feeling more than just a little bit vexed by his abrupt change of tone.

He nodded cheerfully and she wanted to smack him. “Just like that,” he said. “But you do realize that it’s now two to one. I’ll have to apologize to even the score.”

“I can think of a good one right now,” Jenna muttered under her breath.

He frowned and leaned an inch closer, close enough for her to smell his aftershave. He smelled really good. “What did you say?” he asked.

That you smell really good and why didn’t you kiss me?
her brain shouted. “Nothing.” She plucked at the sleeve of her
gi
. “Look, I can be ready in fifteen minutes, if you still want to go to dinner.”

She watched his nostrils flare and his cheeks darken. His brown eyes went from placid to smoldering in one hard beat of her heart. So he was interested after all. “I still want to go to dinner,” he said and a shiver teased down her back at the sudden huskiness of his voice.

Mesmerized, she could only look up into his face. “Then I’ll . . . just . . . go . . .” The words trailed off and she licked her dry lips but her feet still hadn’t moved an inch. His eyes had grown even more intense and now a muscle ticked in his jaw. He swallowed and drew his hand from his pocket. Lifted it to her face and gently pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. Brushed a fleeting caress against her cheek before burying his hand back in his pocket, leaving her cheek tingling.

She took a step back although what she really wanted was to jump up and wrap herself around his body.

“Take your time,” he murmured and she all but groaned. “I’ll wait.”

Steven held his body rigid as he watched her back away. Releasing his pent-up breath did nothing to release the tension that wound him tighter than a spring.

She’d nearly set him on fire with a look and a few breathy words. Imagining what she’d be like writhing under him while he lost himself in her body . . .

He lifted his eyes to find two German shepherds regarding him with twin wary stares. Carefully he approached them, both to distract himself and to begin building a relationship with Jenna’s animals. If this worked out he’d be seeing a lot of them.

He held out his hand and the one on the right sniffed him, then licked his fingers. The one on the left, not to be outdone, jumped up and licked his face. He guessed he was in. “Down, boy,” he told the dog, whichever one it was, and amazingly it obeyed. He pulled at the dog’s tag and frowned. “Captain,” he read. He pulled the other’s tag and found it said the same thing. “How come neither of you has a tag with your real names?” he asked them. Both dogs sat and wagged their tails. Apparently their training did not extend to articulation. “Well, at least you don’t drool.”

Steven took a look around him. Jenna kept a clean apartment, her taste running to rustic comfort. Her walls, however, were quite a different story. Nearly every square inch of wall space was covered and, as he discovered by taking a slow three-sixty turn, dedicated to a theme. One wall was covered in framed photographs, ranging in size from tenby-thirteen portraits to snapshots. Another wall held awards and diplomas. The wall in her dining room was visually intriguing, bearing an assortment of colorfully painted masks. But the photo wall held the most appeal as he hoped it would provide some insight into the real Jenna Marshall.

She was, he discovered as he went from one photo to the next, a woman of diverse interests. There was the karate, of course. There were a half-dozen pictures of her teammates all lined up, sparring or board breaking. But she’d also played softball and volleyball, too. In fact, he saw, stooping down to see some photos closer to the floor, she’d coached a team of girls, a dozen grinning eight-year-olds wearing T-shirts from a local real estate office and proudly gathered around an impressive-looking trophy. And her volunteer efforts didn’t stop there. He found five photos, one for each of the last five years, of Jenna with her arm around a kid under the sign proclaiming the Special Olympics. Admiration warmed him even as he heard the death knell of any last hope for a fleeting, no-strings affair.

She was a nice woman. A woman who formed attachments, supporting the same charities year after year. She was just too nice. Too nice to even think of proposing a no-strings relationship.

Steven stopped short at the next snapshot. And she fished. Damn. He leaned forward, squinting. The fish she proudly held up for the camera was a good sight bigger than anything he’d ever pulled in. She was a nice woman who fished and who was kind to children and puppies.

And who made him think of hot, sweaty sex every time he laid eyes on her. Who at this very moment was in the shower. He squeezed his eyes closed, able to imagine only all too well. He had to make this stop. It was ridiculous, not to mention humiliating, acting like a randy sixteen-year-old. He rapidly searched for a photo with a more . . . deflating theme.

And found it. Jenna in the arms of another man, standing in front of a Christmas tree. Her late fiancé, Steven supposed. He was a tall man with tousled dark hair and black wire-rimmed glasses. Kind of like a grown-up version of Harry Potter. Younger than she was now, Jenna looked up at the man with such unadulterated joy, Steven felt both jealous and wistful. To have a woman look up at him with such happiness in her eyes was something he’d never known, but that he’d always wanted. Something he’d never had, not even during the good years with Melissa.

He lifted the picture from the wall and brought it close enough to see the couple holding hands. The man held Jenna’s hand up to the camera, showing off a modest diamond ring. The man wore a Celtic band on his right hand— the same ring Jenna now wore on her thumb. Another spear of jealousy pricked, followed closely by shame. He resented the ring on her thumb. But her fiancé was dead, unavailable. How low was he to feel jealous of a dead man?

Apparently pretty damn low.

“That was Adam.”

Steven jerked guiltily, turning to find Jenna standing a few feet behind him. She’d done something with her hair, braided it up so that it looked old-fashioned and sexy at the same time—and left her neck completely bare. She’d changed into a simple black dress with tiny little buttons that ran throat to hem, sleeveless so that it showed off the definition in her arms. And unfortunately so long that it hid most of her incredible legs. Her stocking-clad legs. He wouldn’t let his mind dwell on the fact that she was probably wearing real stockings with garters under that dress, instead, forcing his eyes to her feet on which she wore a pair of flats.

“No skyscraper heels tonight?” he asked, smiling.

She shook her head. “I seem to recall making a scout’s honor promise, even though I didn’t spit in my palm.” She made a face. “That’s just too gross.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, then Steven cleared his throat, holding out the picture. “I’m sorry. I got curious.”

She picked up the photo. Steven watched her face for any sign of residual passion, but she just smiled a little and wiped the dust from the glass with her fingertips. “This was Adam.”

“Your fiancé.”

“Um-hmm.”

“You loved him.” The words were out before he knew they were coming.

Her head snapped up, her violet eyes surprised. “Of course. He was a good man.”

Steven felt his cheeks heat. “That’s good to hear. I’m glad.” Although a part of him wasn’t and he wanted to squash that childish part like a bug. “Do you mind my asking what he died of?”

She met his eyes briefly before returning the photo to its nail on the wall. “Not at all. I’ve become something of a champion for the cause, although most men cringe to hear it. Adam died of testicular cancer.” Steven winced and Jenna raised a knowing brow. “I told you that would be your reaction. But as the father of three boys, you have a responsibility for their health.”