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Authors: Catherine Spencer
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better.”
“Enough to offer me coffee?”
She hadn’t been able to tolerate coffee for days. The mere mention of it was enough to leave her salivating like a rabid dog. “I’m out of coffee.”
“Beer, then?”
“I don’t drink beer.”
He compressed his rather beautiful mouth, though whether it was to contain a grimace or a grin she couldn’t decide. “Okay, Jenna, you choose. And if acting the perfect hostess strains your energy too severely, I’ll be happy to take over in the kitchen and do the honors myself.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, resigned to the fact that she wasn’t going to be rid of him until he was good and ready to leave of his own accord. “I can offer you ginger ale or tea. Take your pick.”
“How gracious! I’ll settle for tea, thanks.”
She indicated the living room to the left of the front hall. “Have a seat in there then, while I make it.”
She was just as glad he hadn’t asked for ginger ale. At least waiting for the kettle to boil for tea allowed her time to scurry to her bedroom, abandon the pink bathrobe for a silk jersey caftan, unearth a pair of high-heeled satin slippers, and rake a brush through her hair. Most definitely not to impress Mr. Married-Man Edmund Delaney, she assured her pasty-faced image in the mirror, but to make herself feel human again. She hadn’t needed his candid assessment to know she looked as if she’d just been dug up!
He hadn’t been idly twiddling his thumbs during the time she was gone, either. When she carried the tea tray into the living room, she saw that he’d turned on a table lamp and was leafing through a photograph album he’d found in her bookcase. “Do make yourself at home,” she said sourly.
“I already have,” he returned, not the least bit perturbed at being caught snooping. “Is this the chinless wonder you almost married?”
She cast a quick glance at the picture in question. “It is. And while you might not think so, most people find Mark very handsome.”
Edmund snorted irreverently. “I guess—if you’re into roosters! Quite a beak he’s sporting, wouldn’t you say?”
“Is that why you showed up tonight?” she asked, depositing the tray on the coffee table with more force than was good for either. “To belittle someone who once played a very important role in my life, and so make me out to be an even bigger idiot than I already am?”
He slapped the album closed and replaced it on the shelf. “No, sweet pea, that’s not my style, though I don’t mind admitting to a certain curiosity about him. I already told you one reason I’m here is to apologize for pulling a disappearing act on the Island, the way I did. The other is to see how you’re coping in the aftermath of being left at the church door.”
“Perfectly well, thank you. And it seems to me that you should save your apologies for the person who most deserves them.”
“Huh?”
She poured the tea and handed him a cup. “I’m referring to your wife, Edmund, though I suppose you can be excused for forgetting you have one, given your penchant for infidelity.”
If his surprise wasn’t real, he gave an excellent imitation of the genuine article. “What the devil are you talking about, Jenna?” he exclaimed, practically slopping his tea into his lap. “I’m not married!”
“Really?” she said, regarding him levelly over the rim of her cup. “Then how would you describe yourself, given that some woman claiming to be your wife called The Inn and left a message which was urgent enough to make you cut short your holiday and leave me feeling like a one-night floozy?”
“That was my ex-wife, Adrienne.”
The only cause for Jenna’s heart to give a joyful little leap at his disclosure was relief at learning she hadn’t been party to adultery. She would admit to no other possible explanation!
“And the reason I left so suddenly,” Edmund went on grimly, “is that my four-year-old daughter had been seriously
“Enough to offer me coffee?”
She hadn’t been able to tolerate coffee for days. The mere mention of it was enough to leave her salivating like a rabid dog. “I’m out of coffee.”
“Beer, then?”
“I don’t drink beer.”
He compressed his rather beautiful mouth, though whether it was to contain a grimace or a grin she couldn’t decide. “Okay, Jenna, you choose. And if acting the perfect hostess strains your energy too severely, I’ll be happy to take over in the kitchen and do the honors myself.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, resigned to the fact that she wasn’t going to be rid of him until he was good and ready to leave of his own accord. “I can offer you ginger ale or tea. Take your pick.”
“How gracious! I’ll settle for tea, thanks.”
She indicated the living room to the left of the front hall. “Have a seat in there then, while I make it.”
She was just as glad he hadn’t asked for ginger ale. At least waiting for the kettle to boil for tea allowed her time to scurry to her bedroom, abandon the pink bathrobe for a silk jersey caftan, unearth a pair of high-heeled satin slippers, and rake a brush through her hair. Most definitely not to impress Mr. Married-Man Edmund Delaney, she assured her pasty-faced image in the mirror, but to make herself feel human again. She hadn’t needed his candid assessment to know she looked as if she’d just been dug up!
He hadn’t been idly twiddling his thumbs during the time she was gone, either. When she carried the tea tray into the living room, she saw that he’d turned on a table lamp and was leafing through a photograph album he’d found in her bookcase. “Do make yourself at home,” she said sourly.
“I already have,” he returned, not the least bit perturbed at being caught snooping. “Is this the chinless wonder you almost married?”
She cast a quick glance at the picture in question. “It is. And while you might not think so, most people find Mark very handsome.”
Edmund snorted irreverently. “I guess—if you’re into roosters! Quite a beak he’s sporting, wouldn’t you say?”
“Is that why you showed up tonight?” she asked, depositing the tray on the coffee table with more force than was good for either. “To belittle someone who once played a very important role in my life, and so make me out to be an even bigger idiot than I already am?”
He slapped the album closed and replaced it on the shelf. “No, sweet pea, that’s not my style, though I don’t mind admitting to a certain curiosity about him. I already told you one reason I’m here is to apologize for pulling a disappearing act on the Island, the way I did. The other is to see how you’re coping in the aftermath of being left at the church door.”
“Perfectly well, thank you. And it seems to me that you should save your apologies for the person who most deserves them.”
“Huh?”
She poured the tea and handed him a cup. “I’m referring to your wife, Edmund, though I suppose you can be excused for forgetting you have one, given your penchant for infidelity.”
If his surprise wasn’t real, he gave an excellent imitation of the genuine article. “What the devil are you talking about, Jenna?” he exclaimed, practically slopping his tea into his lap. “I’m not married!”
“Really?” she said, regarding him levelly over the rim of her cup. “Then how would you describe yourself, given that some woman claiming to be your wife called The Inn and left a message which was urgent enough to make you cut short your holiday and leave me feeling like a one-night floozy?”
“That was my ex-wife, Adrienne.”
The only cause for Jenna’s heart to give a joyful little leap at his disclosure was relief at learning she hadn’t been party to adultery. She would admit to no other possible explanation!
“And the reason I left so suddenly,” Edmund went on grimly, “is that my four-year-old daughter had been seriously
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