“You don’t have to take me home,” she said. “You can just drop me at the train.”
Uh-huh, like he was going to put her on a train looking like that.
She followed his gaze and smoothed her dress. “I could go back to my aunt’s office and get changed.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind the drive.”
“Should you be driving? How much have you had to drink?” she asked.
“Quite a bit less than you.” In fact, he was not even sure he had finished an entire glass of wine. She, however, with those flushed cheeks and starry eyes, was demonstrating every sign of slight inebriation. Another reason not to put her on the train. She giggled, confirmation of how much less than her he had had.
“I’d like to see Chance, anyway,” he said, heading further argument off at the pass.
She smiled at him as if he had declared they shared a beautiful child.
Something happened to Jonas that had never happened to him before. Not ever. He wondered what a child they made together would look like.
It was the most astonishing—and terrifying—thought he’d ever had.
Because here was the thing: Jonas Boyden was not a baby kind of guy. His nephews, in that baby stage, had been cute, but messy and demanding. He had watched Theresa’s transformation—and Mike’s to a lesser extent—from once-intelligent people, now given to discussing what a crayon that had passed through a digestive system looked like. It had been the start of Yummy Mommy but had killed any other parenting ambitions Jonas had, admittedly slight as those had been to begin with.
He made the mistake of glancing at Krissy again, and remembered what he had tasted on her lips: the ripe ability to give life.
He was suddenly so aware, looking at her, that it was what she needed, and probably what she desired, deep down in that secret place, a place protected by the barbwire fence of the hurts inflicted on her by her family.
But Jonas was willing to bet it was those hidden longings that had led her to teach kindergarten. It was those hidden longings that had made her so susceptible to Chance’s debatable charm.
She needed.
She needed love and stability and something to care about, even as she denied needing those things.
Jonas was self-aware enough to know he was not the man to entrust with those kinds of needs.
And yet still, he now was tangled enough with her to want things for her. To want to change her mind about family, so that she could have what she secretly wanted and what she surely deserved.
A family of her own.
A good family.
Family the way it should be. That safe place. That solid place. That soft place to fall in a hard, hard world.
And there was nobody more qualified to show her what family really was than his own. So, as dangerous as this had become, Jonas felt more committed to getting her to that family reunion than ever. She could just never know it had become about so much more than keeping his car.
He had an hour, he told himself, to get this thing back on an even keel. To get things back on track.
He disposed of the rubbish and put the blanket over his arm. She hesitated for just a moment and then tossed her hair—the woman warrior—and took his hand in hers as if she owned it, as if their hands belonged together.
Such a simple thing, the intertwining of hands.
So why was it Jonas was no longer even sure where the track was, never mind how to get back on it?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
KRISSY FELL ASLEEP on the way home. She was horrified when she woke up as Jonas pulled his sleek car to a gliding halt in front of her house, aware there was a little pool of drool darkening her dress.
She was even more horrified when the memory of that kiss came back to her.
“Oh,” she said. “I don’t drink very much. It went straight to my head.” She scrambled out of the car and headed down the walk.
The wine had made her forget the most important aspect of all this: it wasn’t real. How could it not be real? Jonas’s lips claiming hers had felt like one of the most real experiences of her entire life.
Which, she told herself firmly, spoke to a pathetic life.
She fumbled for her key. Jonas was behind her.
“I guess we shouldn’t kiss anymore,” she said, as brightly as she could.
“Really? I think it was good to get it over with. You know, before we have an audience. So we both know what to expect.”
Get it over with? Know what to expect?
Well, no one should know better than her the value of a good experiment. Still, Krissy had obviously made a complete fool of herself.
“Well, good,” she managed to say. “Lots accomplished tonight. I think we’ve gotten to know each other quite well enough.”
“Do you?” he said.
She opened the door, and Chance bounded out, went right past her, his new Frisbee caught between his teeth. He sat in front of Jonas, his tail thumping the ground and his tongue lolling out, begging for just one toss.
“What a good dog,” Jonas said.
The dog quivered ecstatically, but did not leap up.
Jonas got down on his haunches in front of the dog and did that massage thing to that huge marred face.
So every living thing felt the chemistry of this man, every living thing longed to be more to him, every living thing longed to feel the warmth of his approval.
“I think we could consider the dress rehearsal over,” she said. “If you think of any other details about yourself that I need to know, text me. I’ll do the same. And the family reunion. Do we have a plan? Drop by on it for a few hours? Announce our engagement? Look besotted with each other? Leave?”
“Ah, maybe not quite that easy. They’ll expect us to stay the weekend.”
The dog
