Her Millionaire, His Miracle. Myrna Mackenzie
a stone-solid promise. And she always kept her promises.
CHAPTER TWO
“I’D LIKE you to start immediately just in case the private investigator turns in some results soon,” Jeremy said. “Since you’re not from the area, I’ve taken the liberty of having the guest house readied.”
“You were that sure I would suit and that I would take the job?”
He laughed. He hadn’t been sure of anything and still wasn’t. “The guest house had been allowed to fall into a state of disrepair. It needed work, anyway. Come on, I’ll take you there.”
Automatically he held out one hand for hers and dropped a pair of sunglasses on his nose with the other. Then he smiled.
She hesitated, then took his hand. Heat flowed from her fingers to his. He ignored it.
“I’ll lead,” he told her just in case she thought that by taking her by the hand he had been asking her to help him. Pride had been his lifelong companion. It had made life with a dysfunctional past and a guardian who despised him bearable. And pride didn’t allow pity.
“I’ll follow,” she agreed, and as he let go of her, she dutifully did just that. They traveled in silence across the broad expanse of lawn that he’d covered so many times in his youth that the path was emblazoned on his brain.
When the first fuzzy outlines of the house came into sight he heard her gasp.
“It’s small,” he explained. “Only three rooms. My aunt didn’t particularly care for guests.”
“The size doesn’t matter. It’s gorgeous, cozy and such detail!” Then her voice tailed off. He knew what she was thinking.
“Don’t do that, Eden. No, I can’t make out all the small stuff these days, but if you’re going to spend a lot of time trying to spare my feelings or worrying over every word you say, I’m going to be sorry we decided to work together.”
“Maybe I wasn’t worried about your feelings but about my own for saying what might have been misconstrued. I’m supposed to be aware of the situation and in control if I’m going to be able to help you. At all times. But I spoke without even thinking. That isn’t allowed. At least not in my book.”
“Nice save,” he said with a smile. “You are professional.”
She hesitated. “Thank you,” she said primly.
Which only made him want to smile more. “Give yourself a chance,” he told her. “I’ve had months to get used to this and to learn everything I needed to know. This is all new to you. It’ll take some time. And yes, the cottage does have very nice details,” he said, moving up the three steps to the small porch. “A spindlework beaded frieze over the porch, a patterned gable with a finial on top, fish-scale shingles. It’s definitely a textured house.”
And textures, touching, which had always been important to him, had taken on a new importance these days.
He had stopped at the right angle so that he caught part of her smile. “What?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing. It’s just that this doesn’t seem like a house that you would own.”
He lifted his left eyebrow, wondering where this was leading. “Why not?”
“I don’t know. I picture you in either something horribly elegant the way the mansion is or else in something terribly masculine, all stone and massive timbers. This house is…”
“Too pretty with all that china-blue and lacy-white paint? Too fussy?”
She laughed, and it was such a lovely, foreign sound that he wondered if he had ever heard her laugh before.
“Not fussy. Cozy,” Eden corrected, “but yes, it’s a bit of a Hansel-and-Gretel gingerbread of a house. A fairy-tale house. You sound as if you have some affection for it.”
Jeremy shrugged. “It made a good hideout for me when I was growing up.”
“I’ll bet your friends loved it.”
“You might say that.” He had mostly brought girls here. They hadn’t noticed the details, and he hadn’t pointed them out, but he had no intention of mentioning that to Eden. There was already too much electricity arcing between them.
“I’ll have one of my employees bring in your bags. You’ll want to have some time to yourself.” He moved down the stairs and away. “The place is open right now, but the keys are on the kitchen table. Use them. This is a safe neighborhood, but I don’t believe in taking chances.” Not anymore.
“Jeremy?”
He stopped and turned.
She frowned. “Until there are some children and parents to talk to, what do you want me to do?”
Come closer, automatically came to mind, followed immediately by Don’t come closer. “Prepare yourself,” he said, instead. “Read up on my condition and the risks inherent to any children I might have fathered so that you’ll be able to understand and explain it to those you’ll need to talk to. I have plenty of material in the library as well as banks of computers. I’ll show you after dinner. For now, just get your bearings and the lay of the land.”
She furrowed her brow. “That’s all? That is, I’m a good researcher and I’m sure that will take some time but…you’re paying me well. Isn’t there anything else I can do?”
Jeremy blew out a breath and thought about the fact that a few years ago he would never have believed he would have a need to hire Eden at all. Now she was a necessity, and the reason for that was too unnerving, frustrating and despair making.
He slowly shook his head and felt the slick slide of regret and anger push at him from all sides, but he battled it into simmering submission. He had to, because if he didn’t, his anger might show. It might come bubbling out, and it wasn’t Eden that he was angry with, but life, and his life was not her fault. For once, it wasn’t even his fault.
Carefully he searched for the words to explain. “I’m sure you know this, Eden, because you grew up in this area, but I have servants who clean and keep my house and who cook for me. I have gardeners and accountants. Those people have always been a part of my life, and the only new people I’ve hired are the investigator and you. He’s investigating. You’re… getting ready and waiting. The getting ready is really important, but it’s the afterward that’s most important. So, the answer is no on having other work for you. Other than what I’ve told you, you can’t help me. You really can’t help me,” he repeated.
His words and his tone had come out too harsh, and Eden was looking wary. “I didn’t mean to appear flippant,” she said.
He held up a hand to stop her. “I didn’t think you were being flippant. But, this situation…” He blew out a breath. “The situation is this. You’re here because there may be a child or children who need your help. If I could go back and change the past, I would never have risked fathering a child, but it is the children I’m asking for your help with, and…I’m not a child.”
“I know that.”
“You don’t. Not in the sense that I mean. You see a man disintegrating from what he was, one no longer as capable as he once was. You see a need and you want to help. That’s…nice, but understand that that kind of help isn’t what I need.”
She stood there, silent, tension hanging in the air. “What do you need?”
To be whole, to be a complete man, to rewrite the past and change the future. “Why does it matter?”
“Your needs will be their needs if the worst comes to pass,” she said simply. “Isn’t that important?”
“Yes.” But conceding that was getting too close to admitting things he wasn’t prepared