Long-Lost Mom

“I know. You’re right.” Still, fear chased hope. “But I’m not sure he’ll see it quite that way.”

“Oh, Jenna.” Kristen hugged her. “Give yourself a break. Forgive yourself. You are worth it. And you are lovable, I promise. The trick is believing it. This won’t work between the two of you unless you do.”

When Stone opened his shop Monday morning, he rolled his eyes in disgust at the haphazard stacks of paperwork waiting to be done. At the piles of sawdust everywhere. At the work lined up on his bench, all unfinished parts for the life-size puzzles he had yet to put together. Jenna’s fault. Blaming her made him feel marginally better. It would allow him to forget his pain and work. But he’d promised the producer of the upcoming auction he would have the materials ready for donation. He never went back on a promise. Never.

Before, the simple joy of the place had given him a rush, but now all he could think was that he badly needed a clerk. And something to ease the terrible restriction in his chest, the one he was afraid would never go away.

Cindy.

Jenna.

Himself, playing the fool.

“Dammit.” Shoving away the images he didn’t want to face, he strode forward, determined to put order into his day He had an important meeting with the local school board, where he would propose several new ideas for the GATE-gifted and talented education-classes, something he’d been excited about just last week.

But he’d never felt less like working.

He was so intent on what he had ahead of him, the sound of the front door to the shop opening didn’t register. Not until-

“Hi.”

At the sound of that soft, sexy, treacherous voice, Stone tensed. He turned and saw an incredibly beautiful woman. Jenna. Soft brown hair framed her pretty face, full of angles and what he’d always thought were mysteries.

He’d been right on that account.

She wore her dark sunglasses, but when he looked at her, she seemed to draw herself up. Slowly she pulled the glasses off. Blinking rapidly, she remained tense for a few seconds, as if the light hurt her eyes. Finally she relaxed.

He wondered about that, about why the light hurt her, then silently called himself an idiot for even sparing her a second thought.

No colored contacts today Nope, just naked vulnerable blue eyes. Jenna’s eyes. And they were so difficult to face it seemed that his heart actually physically hurt.

Nervousness vibrated off her in waves, not detracting in the least from that willowy body, from the long legs that just a few days before had been wrapped around his waist while she’d writhed and sobbed in ecstasy beneath him.

He swore out loud and she jumped, which made him grimace and turn away from the troubling sight of her

“You get used to it,” she said into the silence.

“What?”

“My face. You get used to it being so different from what you expect. It just…takes a while.”

“I’m not planning on getting used to it.”

“Oh.”

More silence, and he wished she’d leave before he had to make her do so.

“I’m here to start work this morning.”

That had him whipping back to face her. “What?”

She lifted a shoulder and offered a hesitant smile, a blush staining her cheeks, as if she’d read his sensual thoughts of a moment ago. “You mentioned you needed a clerk to help out.”

“Not you.”

“I can help, Stone.” She’d been squinting a bit, but then she opened her purse and pulled out her reading glasses. Putting them on, she said, “I’m good at clerical work.”

“No.”

She bit her lip, then pushed at the glasses on her nose-a vintage Jenna move that made his gut tighten uncomfortably. “We have things to talk about.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Come on,” she chided gently. “You must have a thousand things you want to say to me.”

“Nothing you want to hear, believe me.”

“Stone…”

Annoyed, he strode over to his biggest table saw and flipped it on. The rumbling roar made it satisfyingly impossible to speak.

No way could he hear her sweet voice now.

But dammit, he could still smell her, that light scent designed to drive a man out of his mind.

It was working.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she squared her shoulders and walked calmly over to him. God. She wore a long floral-print dress with a hundred tiny buttons down the front. She looked so good it made him ache.

She reached down and flipped off the saw. “Just tell me where I can start,” she said, holding her fingers over the switch so he couldn’t turn the thing back on without touching her-something he had no intention of doing. “Then,” she continued calmly, “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Why are you here?” he demanded in a hoarse voice he didn’t recognize. “The old Jenna would have fled long ago.”

“I’m not the old Jenna.”

No, she wasn’t, not by a long shot. This Jenna, the seemingly new and improved version, lifted her chin, willingly weathered the storm, stared down anything to… What was it she’d said?

To right her wrongs.

Well, she had many wrongs, and he was ashamed to admit he’d harbored them close to his heart as if he’d had a right to do so. Most people wouldn’t have had the nerve to face his rare but formidable temper. They would have broken down under the emotional burden of guilt she clearly carried.

He didn’t care.

“I’d rather you get out of my sight now,” he said.

“I know you would. But I’m not going.” A shoulder lifted in a careless shrug, reminding him forcefully of Sara.

Jenna’s daughter. His daughter.

And suddenly his anger was too big to be politely held back. Risking the touch, after all, he pushed her hand aside from the machine and flipped the saw back on. “Get out of the way,” he yelled, grabbing a piece of wood. He had no measurements, nothing planned out, but he didn’t care. He needed the diversion.

Stubbornly she stuck close. Over the noise, she called out, “I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”

He shoved the wood through the saw and bullheadedly kept his back to her, unable to look into her red-rimmed eyes. Obviously she’d been crying.

Crying, because of his unreasonableness.

Still, he couldn’t help himself. “If you won’t leave, then at least tell me what you want.”

“A lot of things.” She watched the wood turn to sawdust under his trained hands. Despite the noise of the machine, he heard the way her voice caught suspiciously. “Some simple things, actually.” She met his gaze. “Like… pictures. I’d love to see Sara’s photo album.”

“Humph.” Another piece of wood was demolished under his reckless hands. At this rate he should be able to destroy his entire supply within an hour.

“Why don’t you tell me why you’re really back.”

Hope flared in her expression. She must have thought his interest was a good thing. He took on an air of nonchalance he didn’t feel.