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Authors: Dara Girard
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She turned to him, her eyes questioning.
“I know I’m asking too much of you, but one day—it doesn’t matter when—just one day, would you allow me to explain what happened?”
She opened her mouth to say no, that no excuse he gave would make her forgive him, but instead of a cutting remark, she found herself nodding. His face split into a brilliant grin—his special grin.
“That doesn’t mean I’ll believe you,” she said.
He let her hand go, and just as quickly as the smile had come, it disappeared. “And don’t expect me not to know you’re up to something.”
She winked with teasing malice. “It gives me a strange pleasure to know I can still make you nervous.”
“Don’t think I won’t figure it out.”
“I’ll let you do that.”
Jessie didn’t know why his suspicion annoyed her. She got out of the car and walked up the porch steps of the house she shared with her sisters. Her calm demeanor hid the anger inside. How dare he be so confident that she was up to something! Okay, so she was up to something, but he had no right to suspect her.
Both Michelle and Teresa met her at the door as Kenneth’s car wheels accelerated, kicking up gravel.
“Wendy called me and told me what happened,” Michelle said.
“We brought your car home,” Teresa added.
Jessie nodded, then winced. “Thanks.”
“Are you all right?” She put her arm around Jessie’s shoulders.
Jessie shut the door, feeling suddenly drained. “I’m fine.” Why couldn’t she have had a romantic accident, like getting hit by a car while saving a child’s life, instead of getting knocked out by a tennis ball?
“So, how did it go with Prince Charming?” Teresa asked.
“It didn’t go anywhere. I asked him over for dinner, but he refused.” That fact still stung.
Michelle laughed. “He was probably afraid you would poison him.”
“Michelle!” Teresa scolded.
“Well, at least you got his attention,” she said, leading her sister into the kitchen. “I have to say…that was very clever of you.”
Jessie scowled. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“I know. That’s what makes it so perfect.” She gently pushed her into a chair. “Wendy told me that he carried you off the court into the shade of a maple tree. She said it all looked very romantic. I’m sure you would have enjoyed it too.” She grinned maliciously. “Had you been conscious.”
Chapter 6
The shower’s hot water stung his skin without mercy. Kenneth stuck his head under the rush and closed his eyes in a fruitless attempt to douse his temper—or whatever it was that made blood rush to his brain and other parts of his anatomy. Damn that woman! She was taunting him, and she was the only woman who could. It didn’t make sense.
He shut off the shower and grabbed a large towel. He wrapped it around his waist, then went to the mirror and wiped off the condensation. He stared at his reflection through the haze. She thought he was a fraud; she was too close to the truth. He turned away and turned off the lights.
He toweled himself dry, threw the towel in the direction of his bed, then watched it slide off and land on the floor. He went to his dresser and began to change. For all he had accomplished, there were certain things he could never change. No amount of money could alter his past. That fact still bothered him. Once dressed, he went downstairs to his desk.
He just wanted a chance to explain, but he knew there was no excuse that would make her forgive him for first standing her up on prom night, and then seeing him with another girl on the same evening. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell her why; he wasn’t sure he could trust her. He wasn’t sure he wanted to trust her. He sat at his desk, burying his face in his hands when the memories came back, as they always did, unwanted guests of his battered conscience.
He remembered the pale peach walls of the high school, and resting against them as security passed. He had
“I know I’m asking too much of you, but one day—it doesn’t matter when—just one day, would you allow me to explain what happened?”
She opened her mouth to say no, that no excuse he gave would make her forgive him, but instead of a cutting remark, she found herself nodding. His face split into a brilliant grin—his special grin.
“That doesn’t mean I’ll believe you,” she said.
He let her hand go, and just as quickly as the smile had come, it disappeared. “And don’t expect me not to know you’re up to something.”
She winked with teasing malice. “It gives me a strange pleasure to know I can still make you nervous.”
“Don’t think I won’t figure it out.”
“I’ll let you do that.”
Jessie didn’t know why his suspicion annoyed her. She got out of the car and walked up the porch steps of the house she shared with her sisters. Her calm demeanor hid the anger inside. How dare he be so confident that she was up to something! Okay, so she was up to something, but he had no right to suspect her.
Both Michelle and Teresa met her at the door as Kenneth’s car wheels accelerated, kicking up gravel.
“Wendy called me and told me what happened,” Michelle said.
“We brought your car home,” Teresa added.
Jessie nodded, then winced. “Thanks.”
“Are you all right?” She put her arm around Jessie’s shoulders.
Jessie shut the door, feeling suddenly drained. “I’m fine.” Why couldn’t she have had a romantic accident, like getting hit by a car while saving a child’s life, instead of getting knocked out by a tennis ball?
“So, how did it go with Prince Charming?” Teresa asked.
“It didn’t go anywhere. I asked him over for dinner, but he refused.” That fact still stung.
Michelle laughed. “He was probably afraid you would poison him.”
“Michelle!” Teresa scolded.
“Well, at least you got his attention,” she said, leading her sister into the kitchen. “I have to say…that was very clever of you.”
Jessie scowled. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“I know. That’s what makes it so perfect.” She gently pushed her into a chair. “Wendy told me that he carried you off the court into the shade of a maple tree. She said it all looked very romantic. I’m sure you would have enjoyed it too.” She grinned maliciously. “Had you been conscious.”
Chapter 6
The shower’s hot water stung his skin without mercy. Kenneth stuck his head under the rush and closed his eyes in a fruitless attempt to douse his temper—or whatever it was that made blood rush to his brain and other parts of his anatomy. Damn that woman! She was taunting him, and she was the only woman who could. It didn’t make sense.
He shut off the shower and grabbed a large towel. He wrapped it around his waist, then went to the mirror and wiped off the condensation. He stared at his reflection through the haze. She thought he was a fraud; she was too close to the truth. He turned away and turned off the lights.
He toweled himself dry, threw the towel in the direction of his bed, then watched it slide off and land on the floor. He went to his dresser and began to change. For all he had accomplished, there were certain things he could never change. No amount of money could alter his past. That fact still bothered him. Once dressed, he went downstairs to his desk.
He just wanted a chance to explain, but he knew there was no excuse that would make her forgive him for first standing her up on prom night, and then seeing him with another girl on the same evening. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell her why; he wasn’t sure he could trust her. He wasn’t sure he wanted to trust her. He sat at his desk, burying his face in his hands when the memories came back, as they always did, unwanted guests of his battered conscience.
He remembered the pale peach walls of the high school, and resting against them as security passed. He had
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