Long-Lost Mom

“You traveled around all the time you were gone?”

Jenna didn’t jump at this question Stone fired at her. She’d gotten used to such questions over the past few days, gotten used to him poking his head around her office door-or his office, if she was working there.

No greeting preceded these questions, no warnings. Other than that day he’d held her while she’d cried, there’d been no apparent softening in his attitude. But Jenna took the fact that he asked her anything at all as a good sign.

Shutting her filing cabinet, she turned to meet his unblinking gaze. His dark hair was damp and so was his shirt, reminding her it was raining rather hard outside. And he’d clearly stalked from his office to hers, needing his question answered, without regard to the weather. Her heart constricted.

“Pretty much,” she said, knowing that one of these days her honesty would break through. She’d see his slow sexy smile, and he’d look at her with enough heat to melt an iceberg.

Although he still looked at her with undeniable heat, he just didn’t allow it to go any further than looking. Not as he had before, when he’d let his natural sensuality come out, when he’d found any excuse to linger, to touch…to taste.

She missed that with all her being.

“Where did you go?”

“You name the state, I was there,” she admitted ruefully. “Never took me long to get bored. I saw Europe, too.”

“What did you do for money?”

“I worked everywhere I went. You’d be surprised how cheaply you can live.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” he said flatly, reminding her that in the beginning at least, he’d struggled, too. “You never stayed anywhere long. I would have found you.”

“Any ties felt… traitorous.”

“To Sara?”

“Yes. And to you.”

He nodded as if that made sense and turned back to the door. Head bent, wide shoulders tense, his hand still on the knob, he didn’t move. Discontentment rolled from him.

With all her heart Jenna wished she could ease it, but he had to make the decision to trust her again himself. All she could do now was be here for him and never waver. But she wanted so badly to wrap her arms around him and never let go. “Stone-”

“I’ve got to get back to work.” He yanked the door open, but instead of vanishing, he just stood there, watching the rain. “I thought about you. Every day. I hate like hell that I did, but it’s a fact.”

She came up behind him, heart aching. “I thought about you, too.”

The rain continued to hold his attention, the stiffening of his spine the only sign he’d heard her.

“I did,” she said softly. “Every single day, just like you.”

“You should have called.”

“I…couldn’t.”

“Written, then.”

“I know.”

“We can’t go back, Jenna.” And with that he left. shutting out the day, the rain, the man.

Jenna sighed, heart heavy. Of course she should have contacted him. After all, he was a man who would never turn his back on anyone.

How could she expect him to understand her cowardice when he didn’t have a cowardly bone in his body?

But maybe, just maybe, she was changing. She went into the little bathroom, flipped on the harsh light, and when she could open her eyes to the glare, she stared at herself for long moments.

No doubt, she didn’t look the same as she once had. So why was it so hard to believe she didn’t act the same? Certainly the old Jenna would never have stuck this out, not in the face of such overwhelming odds. Yet she hadn’t left, hadn’t even had the urge to run since that night she’d come clean with Stone.

Jenna smiled, enjoying the sight of herself for the first time since her surgery. She was changing-she was getting stronger. She was becoming the sort of woman she’d always wanted to be-one who stood up for what she believed in.

She believed in love.

She believed in herself, and in forgiving herself, too.

And most exciting of all, she believed in being part of a family with Sara and Stone.

If only Stone could believe it, too.

Stone looked down at his daughter. They were standing by the front door ready to go.

And late as usual.

Stone sighed and restated the problem. “So you’re telling me you had your report finished, and it was in your book bag. Then at some point in my office yesterday it just vanished?”

“Not vanished,” Sara said with a shake of her head. “Stolen.”

“Stolen,” he repeated dubiously.

“Cindy did it.”

Stone lifted a brow as he studied Sara. They were rushing to get ready for school and work-again. Somehow his alarm hadn’t gotten through to his exhausted brain, and no wonder. He hadn’t fallen asleep until near dawn.

His life felt a little out of control at the moment, and he hated that. There were so many things consuming him. Richard gone forever, giving him no chance to ever resolve their differences. That was hard enough to accept, but then there were his parents, suddenly interested in forging a new relationship, at least with Sara.

Yet neither of those things even began to touch on his biggest problem.

Jenna.

At just the thought of her, emotions swamped him. Anger, yes. But worry, too, because he still had to figure out how to tell Sara about her, not to mention how the hell he felt about it all.

He was afraid he was doing as Jenna had told him he would. He was beginning to trust her-and it truly terrified him.

Now Sara wouldn’t meet his gaze, and as she stood there under his scrutiny, she kept shifting uneasily from foot to foot-a clear sign of trouble.

“You can do better than that,” he said.

She lifted her head, eyes wide, the picture of innocence. “Cindy stole my report.”

“Sara.”

“She did!”

Stone squatted before her and put his hands on her waist “Honey, she’s not a thief.”

“She is so.” Big fat tears welled in Sara’s eyes. “She’s a daddy thief. Ever since she came to town you’ve been too busy for me.”

“Oh, baby.” Tugging her close, Stone enveloped her in a hug. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I’m never too busy for you. Never.”

Her next words were muffled in his shirt, the second time this week he’d made the mistake of wearing a light- colored shirt while holding a sobbing female. “We lost our game yesterday and you didn’t even seem to mind,” she wailed.

“I minded.” Sitting on the foyer floor, he pulled her into his lap, then tipped up her chin. “But all of you tried your best, right?”

“Yeah.” She sniffed and wiped her nose on her clean sleeve.

Stone rolled his eyes, pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her, knowing it could have been worse-she could have wiped her nose on his sleeve. “Try this, sweetheart.”

She blew noisily, then handed him back his now soggy handkerchief. Stoically he balled it up and tossed it aside, silently thanking Mrs. Potts, who would undoubtedly pick it up, wash it and even iron it for him. “So if you tried your best,” he wondered out loud, “why should I make you feel worse by yelling at you guys?”

“I dunno.”

“Sara, about your report-”