Unexpected Father. Kelly Jamison
of a house, as John helped him set up the saw. Hannah began to get cold feet about the whole project as Jake talked about how they were going to build the sill.
She didn’t belong here at all, she assured herself. She had some skill with a hammer and saw only because she had helped her father—if helped was the right word—when he remodeled their house. She had done it because she’d wanted to be with him, and she had treasured those times together. But she was here now simply because she was Ronnie’s friend. And he was the only reason she hadn’t headed back to St. Louis already.
Ronnie had been an electronically precocious but socially oblivious teenager when he’d begun working at McClennon Industries as a summer intern. Hannah had been a few years older, but she had befriended him when she’d seen him eating his lunch alone, a stoic look on his face. She’d lost touch with him when she left McClennon Industries, but when she returned to St. Louis, she ran into him again at the library where she worked. She had visited him in Sandford a couple of times, and she was fond of his mother, Esther.
Jake and John were laying the metal strip over the foundation rim now, and Jake called to Jordan to get the sill boards ready. Hannah met Jordan’s eyes briefly before he moved toward the tarp-covered pile of lumber. She felt her pulse quicken.
“I’m sorry,” Ronnie said lamely beside her. “I didn’t know that Jake had told Jordan about the house. I didn’t have any idea he’d be here.”
Hannah ended Ronnie’s misery with a gentle touch on his arm. “It’s okay. There’s no reason to feel awkward. It’s been a long time since I last saw Jordan, and, believe me, there’s no spark there anymore.”
The last part wasn’t entirely true, but Ronnie seemed satisfied.
He moved off to help Jake and John, and Hannah studied Jordan covertly. How had she forgotten how physically compelling he was? Maybe it was a case of not wanting to remember. It all seemed like a dream now. That she had once been intimate with this man made the blood collect in places that hadn’t felt a man’s touch since Jordan.
What he had done to her, she thought in wonder, was to seduce her with the expertise of long practice. No, that wasn’t quite fair. She’d been more than willing to be seduced. And it had been an exquisite experience.
But a man like Jordan McClennon knew how good he was with women. And Hannah realized with certainty that he would seduce her all over again if he could. For him it would be just another game.
“Hannah!” Jordan called sharply, startling her and making her blush as if he had read her thoughts. “Help me with these boards.”
She was tempted to tell him to do it himself, but she realized that both Jake and John were watching, though they tried not to be obvious about it. She decided it was less trying to help with the boards than to be the continuing source of the McClennon brothers’ amusement.
“Well?” she said, frowning, as Jordan continued to watch her, his eyes narrowed.
“You’re standing on the board, Hannah,” he explained with exaggerated patience. “That makes it a little tough for me to pick it up. Not that you’re not light as a feather, sweetheart, but I haven’t had my Wheaties today.”
“You mean there’s something you can’t do?” she shot back. She had never been particularly defensive before now, but this was the man who had seen her naked, who had made love to her, then left her.
His eyes met hers and held. “Shall I come over there and move you?” he asked quietly.
His voice was too low for anyone else to hear, but the heat climbed her face, anyway. The arrogant egotist would probably love an excuse to touch her. No doubt he thought she would fall all over him again.
Lifting her chin, Hannah stepped to the side, then bent and grasped the end of the board. With one last look at her, Jordan did the same.
“Is it too heavy?” he asked solicitously, and she grunted negatively, determined not to give him any more response than absolutely necessary.
When they had deposited the last of the boards on the ground by the foundation, Hannah put her hands on her lower back and stretched. She wasn’t badly out of shape, but it had been a long time since Kevin had been light enough for her to lift him with any frequency. That was the trouble with babies; they eventually grew up. It seemed that every day they presented their mothers with a new set of problems and a new set of delights. She gently touched the locket at her neck. It still saddened Hannah that Marybeth never got to see her son turn into such a wonderful kid.
“Are you all right?” Jordan asked carefully, and Hannah focused on him, realizing that she had been staring off into the distance.
“Yes,” she said with resignation. She had learned how to be all nght no matter what happened. She supposed she had inherited from her father the ability to put one foot in front of the other and soldier on despite any difficulty. Not that it was always easy; there were more than enough times when she nearly wondered aloud why she was bothering. But a Brewster didn’t stop to ask pointless questions when there was work to be done.
Jake had finished attaching the metal strip to the foundation and was moving the first sill board into place. Ronnie appeared by Hannah’s side and with an encouraging smile handed her a hammer. Jordan didn’t miss the fact that Ronnie’s fingers brushed Hannah’s Turning her back on Jordan, Hannah bent to pick up some nails.
Jordan studied her while his brothers drilled holes for the anchor bolts. He vaguely remembered the restaurant where he’d taken her to dinner a long time ago. What he remembered vividly was the sensation of her, of Hannah Brewster. There was a vitality in her, a warmth that made a man feel good all over just looking at her or listening to her talk.
He marveled that he could remember that evening so clearly. He had tugged her toward his bedroom when they had reached his apartment, and she had gone willingly. He could still see the smile on her face as she put her arms around his neck. He had taken her glasses off for her and then unfastened her hair, letting it fan out across the pillow. She had been nervous, fumbling with his buttons until he had to undo his shirt himself. But she had been so sweet in his bed.
He still hadn’t quite figured out the parameters of her relationship with Ronnie, but maybe it was one of those steadfast, quiet love affairs devoid of overt displays of affection. He couldn’t imagine why else she would be here—carpentry skills or not—unless there was something between her and the red-haired electronics prodigy.
Jordan realized that he was thinking. at least on a subconscious level, of taking her to bed again. She had grown into a beautiful woman since he had last seen her. Not that she hadn’t been attractive before—she just hadn’t known it then. She had a quiet confidence about her now. Still, something was missing.
Her smile—that was it. It was what had first drawn him to her. And he had yet to see it today.
He supposed she smiled for Ronnie. Resolutely he sat down on the ground by the pile of tools, rummaging for another hammer. He told himself to stop thinking about Hannah Brewster. She was treating him with all the welcome of a spitting cat. It was plain that she didn’t want anything to do with him.
Which made her all the more intriguing.
“I need the nails,” she said stoically, and he glanced up to see her silhouetted in the sun, her hands on her hips.
“What nails?” he asked stupidly, so lost in thinking about her that he was unsure for a moment if he was looking at her or a memory.
“The nine-gauge,” she said in the calm, efficient tone she’d apparently adopted just for him. “You’re sitting on them,” she added pointedly.
Jordan frowned, looking around the grass where he was sitting. “I think I’d know if I was sitting on nails,” he assured her.
“Maybe your jeans have cut off the circulation to your brain,” she suggested with a slight curve of her mouth, letting him know just where she thought