Jason shook his head. “Nope. That was pure Jason Halloran and I meant every word. If you doubt that, just try me.”
Sammy’s grin faded.
“So,” Dana began hurriedly. “It’s probably time we got home.”
After one last measuring look, Jason and Sammy nodded.
When they reached the apartment, Sammy took off for his room without another word. Jason dropped his coat over the back of a chair and headed straight for the kitchen. “Do you have any coffee?” he called over his shoulder.
“Make yourself at home, why don’t you?” Dana muttered as she trailed after him.
In the kitchen she took the can of coffee from his hands and scooped some into the pot. When she’d turned it on to perk, she faced Jason. “Thank you for everything you’re trying to do, but be careful, Jason. Don’t push him too hard. He’ll just rebel.”
“If I let up on him for even a second, I’ll lose the edge. Right now he’s giving me a sort of grudging respect because no one has ever been this tough with him before. I want him to understand the ground rules.”
She regarded him oddly. “Is that how you were raised?”
“Hardly. My parents were just one step away from being the kind who thought a child should be allowed to express himself, even if that included tearing down the house. There were a few times when I really wished someone would set down a few rules, so I’d know what the hell was expected of me. Fortunately my grandfather wasn’t shy about doing just that. I used to love to visit him because I always knew exactly what I could and couldn’t do. And I always knew he and my grandmother loved me, even when I crossed the line.”
“You think I’ve been too lenient with Sammy,” Dana said.
“Maybe. Maybe not. I just see a kid now who’s crying out for someone to point him in some direction. If it’s not you, then it’ll be those thugs he considers his friends.”
Dana poured the coffee, then sank down across from Jason. “Sometimes I get so damned tired of being responsible,” she said wearily.
Jason reached for her hand. “You’re not in this alone anymore,” he said softly. “From now on we’ll share the responsibility.”
Although everything in her screamed that she had to remain strong, had to remain independent, she couldn’t bring herself to voice the words that would keep him at bay. She felt his strength pouring into her, felt the warmth and concern that surrounded her like a velvet cloak and wanted with all her might to draw it closer.
When he raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss against her knuckles, she felt like the most cherished woman on the face of the earth. The sensation was too intoxicating by far to turn away. She would indulge herself, just for tonight, in the fantasy that Jason would always be around to protect her.
Chapter Nine
Feeling an unfamiliar need for a long, friendly chat that might help her to put things with Jason into perspective, Dana walked over to Mrs. Finch’s bookstore on her way home from work at the print shop a week later. Although she didn’t really need an excuse for dropping by, she had one all prepared. She’d finished the bookstore’s latest flyers. Mr. Keane had run them off on the copying machine just before closing.
Glancing in the shop’s window before entering, her mouth dropped open. Wearing slacks and a dress shirt, Jason was scrunched down in one of the faded chintz chairs that were placed here and there for browsing customers. His tie was loose, his collar open. He was holding a china cup of tea that looked completely out of place in his big hands, but his expression was rapt as he listened to Mrs. Finch. Dana couldn’t imagine what the two of them had to talk about.
Except her, she thought with horror, rushing inside.
“Agatha Christie is the very best mystery writer ever,” Mrs. Finch was declaring to Dana’s relief.
“John D. MacDonald,” Jason countered. He glanced up and shot Dana a warm look. “And there’s Dashiell Hammett. What do you think, Dana?”
She regarded the two of them warily, not entirely convinced of the innocence of the conversation. “I don’t have time to read mysteries.”
“I’ve tried,” Mrs. Finch said apologetically as if Dana were one of her failures. “I sneaked one of Christie’s best into her sack last time. She brought the book back the next day. Said I’d mixed it in with her books by mistake.”
“Didn’t you even peek?” Jason teased.
“No,” Dana said, then amended, “Okay, I peeked. I read the first few lines…and a little bit at the end.”
Mrs. Finch looked delighted. “Oh, my, I’ll have you hooked yet.”
“Don’t count on it,” Dana warned. “And don’t even think about trying to get me addicted to those romances you love so much. They’re frivolous.”
“Only if you don’t happen to care about human relationships,” Mrs. Finch informed her.
“Interesting how she keeps bringing those romances up, isn’t it?” Jason observed, giving the bookstore owner a deliberate wink. “Do you suppose she’s developed an obsession with romance lately?”
Dana looked from one to the other, scowling, then muttered something about looking for a new design book. This visit was doing absolutely nothing to ease her mind. If anything, she felt more ganged up on than ever. Obviously her friend had chosen sides. What puzzled her was that there were even sides to choose. A week ago Jason Halloran hadn’t even wanted to spend a few hours in an office with her. Now he was popping up every time she turned around. Was the man trying to drive her nuts?
“Certainly, dear. Look all you want,” Mrs. Finch said, clearly already distracted by her handsome visitor. “You know where they are.”
Jason didn’t even bother to comment. He jumped right back into the mystery discussion they’d been in the midst of before her arrival.
Suddenly feeling thoroughly out of sorts, Dana went down the narrow aisle to the back of
