what Lucinda had said about Jonathan’s relationship with the elder Mr. Steele.
His already tense expression tightened. “Not really.”
She leaned against the desk. “But he had to have loved you and been proud of you, even if he didn’t show it. Look at what a success you’ve made of yourself. From what I understand Steele Enterprises was a company going nowhere until you took it over. You turned everything around. He had to respect that.”
“You’d think,” Jonathan said, avoiding her gaze. He walked over to a picture of David with his father. “I guess he appreciated what I could do with the company because he left me in charge. Even my dad had to see that David would only run it into the ground. But I don’t think he respected me.”
“He loved you,” she said firmly. “Sometimes parents have trouble showing it, but he felt it.”
“Did your mother’s family love her?” he asked without turning around. “Is that why they threw her out when she was eighteen? Is that why you never see them?”
“I, ah…” She stared at his broad back, at the dark wool of his suit jacket. “How do you know I don’t see them?”
“You never mention them.” He faced her again. “I can read between the lines. They cut her off without a cent and they’ve never tried to reconcile. Knowing the little I do about your mother, I’m going to guess she made the attempt a couple of times, but they’re not interested.”
All the blood seemed to rush from her head. Every word he spoke was true. “How did you know that?”
“It wasn’t hard to figure out.” He shoved his hands into his slacks pockets. “Families are an invention of the devil. We’re better off going it on our own. That way no one gets hurt.”
“And no one gets loved. You can’t want that.”
“Love is an excuse to cause pain.”
He spoke flatly, then grabbed the bag of photos and left the room. “If you want to look at Colton’s room, do it now. I want to get out of here.”
She heard his footsteps on the stairs.
Cynthia stood in the center of the study for a long moment, then moved in the opposite direction Jonathan had taken. She pushed open doors until she found one that led to a baby’s room. Except this wasn’t like any child’s room she’d seen before. Instead of being warm, welcoming and filled with homey furniture, she felt as if she was staring at a set decorated for a photo shoot.
Pale raw silk covered the walls and hung by the windows. The canopied crib looked both imposing and uncomfortable, the fabric matching the light cream color of the walls. Personal furnishings on the dresser were silver and glass. Although the decor wasn’t as stark as the other rooms, there wasn’t anything soft about the furniture or the decorations. No fuzzy stuffed animals littered the carpeted floor or corners. In fact there weren’t any toys anywhere. It wasn’t a baby’s room at all-it was a showpiece.
“Do you want anything?”
She turned at the sound of the voice and saw Jonathan standing in the doorway. Apparently he’d changed his mind about going downstairs.
She motioned to the room. “I can’t figure out if Colton had a lucky escape, or if I did his room all wrong.”
His dark gaze stared past her, but she saw the bleakness in his expression. She wanted to go to him and have him hold her. She wanted them to kiss and touch and even make love. She wanted to be with him-both to heal and because he made her feel things she’d never felt before. But he was Jonathan Steele and she was just a nanny. She had no place in his world. He spent most of their time together trying to scare her off.
“What are you thinking?” he asked suddenly.
She glanced at him. “That you’re a trial by fire. Knowing you is going to make me stronger.”
“Or you’ll get burned. If I were you, I wouldn’t take odds on getting out unscathed.”
Jonathan had stopped pretending to work about an hour before, but he didn’t leave his study. He knew what awaited him out in the rest of the house-Cynthia. She and Colton lurked in the hallways, waiting to pounce, to claim his attention. She’d been hovering ever since they returned from David’s house. He almost wished he had somewhere to go that night so he could escape her concern.
Except, if he was completely honest with himself, he didn’t want to be anywhere but with her.
He swore under his breath, then picked up the paper Lucinda had left on his desk that morning. Maybe reading about the day’s events would distract him.
But before he could get interested in a single article, he heard the doorbell ring. Seconds later a burst of laughter drifted through the big, lonely house. Conversation wafted back to him, along with more laughter.
Against his better judgment, he left his study and started toward the front of the house. He came to a halt in the doorway to the foyer. Jenny, Brad and Brett were skating on the slick marble. Their in-line skates glided easily over the floor as they circled around each other with casual grace.
Cynthia shrieked from midway down the stairs. “Are you insane? You can’t skate in the house. Stop it now!”
“Ah, Cyn,” one of the boys grumbled as all three of them slowed and looked up at her. “It’s too cool in here.”
“It’s Mr. Steele’s house. I don’t even want to think about what kind of marks you’re leaving on the floor.”
“Lucinda said it was all right,” Jenny said even as she plopped on the floor and started unfastening her skates. The teenager smiled at his housekeeper. “I don’t think we left any marks but if we did, I’ll help you clean them.”
Lucinda leaned against the closed front door and waved away her comment. “I’ll be fine. Mr. Jonathan doesn’t make any kind of mess and I’ve been here for years. So you would have to do a lot of messing up to make up for how clean he is.”
Jenny laughed, but the boys looked confused.
“We missed you,” Jenny told her sister. She stood in her stocking feet. “So we skated over to see you.” She scampered up the stairs. “How is little Colton?”
She cooed over the baby and then carefully took him in her arms. Brad and Brett scrambled to their feet. “So is there like a pool and stuff?” one of them asked.
Leaving the baby with Jenny, Cynthia made her way down the stairs and hugged the boys close. “I don’t, like, know.”
Both boys laughed. “Why do you hate it when we say ‘like?’”
“It’s not correct English. I want you to grow up to speak well.”
“Do you think Mr. Steele has video games?” the other brother asked.
Jonathan watched the exchange. He noticed that Jenny had brought Colton downstairs and was standing close to her sister. Neither of the boys had moved out of Cynthia’s embrace. They stood there, the Morgan children, so alike with their blond hair. Everyone wore sweatshirts and jeans. Even though Cynthia was exactly twice Jenny’s age, she didn’t look out of place with her sister or the boys.
They were her half siblings, he thought. Related in the same way he and David had been related. There was an even bigger age gap, yet somehow they had become a family. His chest tightened slightly as he wondered where he and his brother had gone wrong.
Lucinda bustled into the center of the room. “It’s getting late,” she said. “I think you should stay to dinner. I can cook many good things.”
“That’s great,” one of the boys said.
Jonathan wondered if there was a way to tell the twins apart. He would have to ask Cynthia.
