shimmering water on that warm, perfect summer’s night.
God, she still wanted Sam. Not only for Ethan’s father. She wanted him for herself. Just as she’d wanted him three years ago.
She still loved him.
She’d never really stopped.
If only dreams could come true, she mused as she strolled to the nursery. But she’d learned the hard way not to dream. Dreams didn’t have any place in reality – life made sure of that.
In reality, she would likely grow old watching Sam from afar as he stood beside Ethan. And in a few years, she would probably have to fight with Sam and his new wife over custody rights. That was how reality worked. She’d learned this truth the hard way.
Leaving the owl clock on Ethan’s dresser with a heavy sigh of acceptance, she went to see if she could get some sleep.
***
Sam rolled his truck to a stop in front of Jack’s house and sat staring at nothing, trying to remember how Jenna had looked holding the little boy. Trying to remember the child’s face, which now seemed to blur. And to feel the soft, trusting grip on his finger that had stunned him with emotion.
He might have to marry her, he realized, sitting up straight. He might have to marry Jenna Morgan. She was the mother of his child.
His crotch sprang to life, oblivious to his tormented mind. He would have to marry Jenna Morgan.
He closed his eyes and pushed all overwhelming thoughts aside, focusing his memory, almost involuntarily, on her body, standing there just inches from his hands, her intense energy swirling into his nostrils and spinning his brain.
That thick blond hair, like a river of molten gold, long enough to wrap around his hand three times and hold her steady. Her breasts so full and firm he could have buried his face between them. Legs so long her hips had to sway enticingly in order to accommodate their stride. And those blue eyes of the gentlest shade, aimed at him like a double-barrel shotgun, not only seeing him, but seeing right through him.
He opened his eyes. “I’m a father,” he whispered aloud, to hear how it sounded. “This is my son, Ethan.”
His thoughts drifted to the still blurry memory of a small child with blond hair falling on the steps, staring up at him with wide, curious blue eyes suspiciously the same dark shade as his own.
Jenna’s blue eyes were the light shade of a spring sky, the shade of those dainty wildflowers his mother grew in her window boxes every spring.
He leaned his head back and smiled. Jenna. She did remind him of those delicate little flowers. Somehow, she pulled it off. Probably five-ten, if not taller, but she never seemed large, or awkward. She had grace, style, class, and a dancer’s coordination.
When he looked into her eyes, when he felt her energy on his skin, there had always been a sense of rightness. He’d been drawn to her from the first moment he saw her, and that hadn’t changed.
Jenna Strickland. It sounded good.
But it felt like certain death.
And filled him with a fear unlike any he’d ever known. Not even finding his granddad still and lifeless in bed had felt like this.
Dammit !
He jumped out of his truck and barged into Jack’s house, not slowing until he’d thrown open the door to his brother’s room and flipped on the lights.
Jack sat up with a start, his eyes wide. He patted around the bed, probably looking for a weapon, before he recognized Sam standing there.
“ What?” he said, throwing the covers back. “Is the house on fire?”
“ Why won’t you marry her?” Sam asked. “What’s the reason?”
Jack gawked at him and fell back to his pillow. “Good god, get out of my room!” he yelled. “ Bastard !”
But Sam couldn’t let it go. He had to know. “Something’s wrong with us. You and me. Not the others. Just you and me. No, I’m worse than you. A girl gets close to me and I run. At least you kept Angie around for a while. What the hell’s wrong with us?”
“ I don’t know,” Jack said, moaning.
God, she still wanted Sam. Not only for Ethan’s father. She wanted him for herself. Just as she’d wanted him three years ago.
She still loved him.
She’d never really stopped.
If only dreams could come true, she mused as she strolled to the nursery. But she’d learned the hard way not to dream. Dreams didn’t have any place in reality – life made sure of that.
In reality, she would likely grow old watching Sam from afar as he stood beside Ethan. And in a few years, she would probably have to fight with Sam and his new wife over custody rights. That was how reality worked. She’d learned this truth the hard way.
Leaving the owl clock on Ethan’s dresser with a heavy sigh of acceptance, she went to see if she could get some sleep.
***
Sam rolled his truck to a stop in front of Jack’s house and sat staring at nothing, trying to remember how Jenna had looked holding the little boy. Trying to remember the child’s face, which now seemed to blur. And to feel the soft, trusting grip on his finger that had stunned him with emotion.
He might have to marry her, he realized, sitting up straight. He might have to marry Jenna Morgan. She was the mother of his child.
His crotch sprang to life, oblivious to his tormented mind. He would have to marry Jenna Morgan.
He closed his eyes and pushed all overwhelming thoughts aside, focusing his memory, almost involuntarily, on her body, standing there just inches from his hands, her intense energy swirling into his nostrils and spinning his brain.
That thick blond hair, like a river of molten gold, long enough to wrap around his hand three times and hold her steady. Her breasts so full and firm he could have buried his face between them. Legs so long her hips had to sway enticingly in order to accommodate their stride. And those blue eyes of the gentlest shade, aimed at him like a double-barrel shotgun, not only seeing him, but seeing right through him.
He opened his eyes. “I’m a father,” he whispered aloud, to hear how it sounded. “This is my son, Ethan.”
His thoughts drifted to the still blurry memory of a small child with blond hair falling on the steps, staring up at him with wide, curious blue eyes suspiciously the same dark shade as his own.
Jenna’s blue eyes were the light shade of a spring sky, the shade of those dainty wildflowers his mother grew in her window boxes every spring.
He leaned his head back and smiled. Jenna. She did remind him of those delicate little flowers. Somehow, she pulled it off. Probably five-ten, if not taller, but she never seemed large, or awkward. She had grace, style, class, and a dancer’s coordination.
When he looked into her eyes, when he felt her energy on his skin, there had always been a sense of rightness. He’d been drawn to her from the first moment he saw her, and that hadn’t changed.
Jenna Strickland. It sounded good.
But it felt like certain death.
And filled him with a fear unlike any he’d ever known. Not even finding his granddad still and lifeless in bed had felt like this.
Dammit !
He jumped out of his truck and barged into Jack’s house, not slowing until he’d thrown open the door to his brother’s room and flipped on the lights.
Jack sat up with a start, his eyes wide. He patted around the bed, probably looking for a weapon, before he recognized Sam standing there.
“ What?” he said, throwing the covers back. “Is the house on fire?”
“ Why won’t you marry her?” Sam asked. “What’s the reason?”
Jack gawked at him and fell back to his pillow. “Good god, get out of my room!” he yelled. “ Bastard !”
But Sam couldn’t let it go. He had to know. “Something’s wrong with us. You and me. Not the others. Just you and me. No, I’m worse than you. A girl gets close to me and I run. At least you kept Angie around for a while. What the hell’s wrong with us?”
“ I don’t know,” Jack said, moaning.
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