Daring Moves Page 3

  He turned away from her to stare out at the water, and for a long moment she was sure he didn’t intend to answer. Finally, however, he said in a low voice, “She had a degree in marine biology, but she didn’t work after the kids were born.”

  It was the first mention he’d made of any children—Amanda had been convinced, in fact, that he had none. “Kids?” she asked in a small and puzzled voice.

  Jordan looked at her in a way that was almost, but not quite, defensive. “There are two—Jessica’s five and Lisa’s four.”

  Amanda knew a peculiar joy, as though she’d stumbled upon an unexpected treasure. She couldn’t help the quick, eager smile that curved her lips. “I thought—well, when you were driving a Porsche—”

  He smiled back at her in an oddly somber way. “Jessie and Lisa live with my sister over in Port Townsend.”

  Amanda’s jubilation deflated. “They live with your sister? I don’t understand.”

  Jordan sighed. “Becky died two weeks after the accident, and I was in the hospital for close to three months. Karen—my sister—and her husband, Paul, took the kids. By the time I got back on my feet, the four of them had become a family. I couldn’t see breaking it up.”

  An overwhelming sadness caused Amanda to grip the railing for a moment to keep from being swept away by the sheer power of the emotion.

  Reading her expression, Jordan gently touched the tip of her nose. “Ready to call it a night? You look tired.”

  Amanda nodded, too close to tears to speak. She had a tendency to empathize with other people’s joys and sorrows, and she was momentarily crushed by the weight of what Jordan had been through.

  “I see my daughters often,” he assured her, tenderness glinting in his eyes. He kissed her lightly on the mouth, then took her elbow and escorted her back inside the cabin.

  They said their goodbyes to David and Claudia Chamberlin, then walked up the wharf to Jordan’s car. He was a perfect gentleman, opening the door for Amanda, and she settled wearily into the suede passenger seat.

  Back at Amanda’s building, Jordan again helped her out of the car, and he walked her to her door. Amanda waited until the last possible second to decide whether she was going to invite him in, breaking her own suspense by blurting out, “Would you like a cup of coffee or something?”

  Jordan’s hazel eyes twinkled as he placed one hand on either side of the doorjamb, effectively trapping Amanda between his arms. “Not tonight,” he said softly.

  Amanda’s blue eyes widened in confusion. “Don’t look now,” she replied in a burst of daring cowardice, “but you’re sending out conflicting messages.”

  He chuckled, and his lips touched hers, very tenderly.

  Amanda felt a jolt of spiritual electricity spark through her system, burning away every memory of James’s touch. Surprise made her draw back from Jordan so suddenly that her head bumped hard against the door.

  Jordan lowered one hand to caress her crown, and she felt the French braid coming undone beneath his fingers.

  “Careful,” he murmured, and then he kissed her again.

  This time there was hunger in his touch, and a sweet, frightening power that made Amanda’s knees unsteady.

  She laid her hands lightly on his chest, trying to ground this second mystical shock, but he interpreted the contact differently and drew back.

  “Good night, Amanda,” he said quietly. He waited until she’d unlocked her door with a trembling hand, and then he walked away.

  Inside the apartment Amanda flipped on the living room light, crossed to the sofa and sagged onto it. She felt as though she were leaning over the edge of a great canyon and the rocks were slipping away beneath her feet.

  Gershwin hurled himself into her lap with a loud meow, and she ran one hand distractedly along his silky back. Dr. Marshall had said it was time she started taking chances, and she had an awful feeling she was on the brink of the biggest risk of her life.

  The massive redwood-and-glass house overlooking Puget Sound was dark and unwelcoming that night when Jordan pulled into the driveway and reached for the small remote control device lying on his dashboard. He’d barely made the last ferry to the island, and he was tired.

  As the garage door rolled upward, he thought of Amanda, and shifted uncomfortably on the seat. He would have given half his stock portfolio to have her sitting beside him now, to talk with her over coffee in the kitchen or wine in front of the fireplace…

  To take her to his bed.

  Jordan got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. The garage was dark, but he didn’t flip on a light until he reached the kitchen. Becky had always said he had the night vision of a vampire.

  Becky. He clung to the memory of her smile, her laughter, her perfume. She’d been tiny and spirited, with dark hair and eyes, and it seemed to Jordan that she’d never been far from his side, even after her death. He’d loved her to an excruciating degree, but for the past few months she’d been steadily receding from his mind and heart. Now, with the coming of Amanda, her image seemed to be growing more indistinct with every passing moment.

  Jordan glanced into the laundry room, needing something real and mundane to focus on. A pile of jeans, sweatshirts and towels lay on the floor, so he crammed as much as he could into the washing machine, then added soap and turned the dial. A comforting, ordinary sound resulted.

  Returning to the kitchen, Jordan shrugged out of his leather jacket and laid it over one of the bar stools at the counter. He opened the refrigerator, studied its contents without actually focusing on a single item, then closed it again. He wasn’t hungry for anything except Amanda, and it was too soon for that.

  Too soon, he reflected with a rueful grin as he walked through the dining room to the front entryway and the stairs. He hadn’t bothered with such niceties as timing with the women he’d dated over the past two years—in truth, their feelings just hadn’t mattered much to him, though he’d never been deliberately unkind.

  He trailed his hand over the top of the polished oak banister as he climbed the stairs. With Amanda, things were different. Timing was crucial, and so were her feelings.

  The empty house yawned around Jordan as he opened his bedroom door and went inside. In the adjoining bathroom he took off his clothes and dropped them neatly into the hamper, then stepped into the shower.

  Thinking of Amanda again, he turned on the cold water and endured its biting chill until some of the intolerable heat had abated. But while he was brushing his teeth, Amanda sneaked back into his mind.

  He saw her standing on the deck of the Chamberlins’ boat, looking up at him with that curious vulnerability showing in her blue-green eyes. It was as though she didn’t know how beautiful she was, or how strong, and yet she had to, because she was out there making a life for herself.

  Rubbing his now-stubbled chin, Jordan wandered into the bedroom, threw back the covers and slid between the sheets. He felt the first stirrings of rage as he thought about the mysterious James and the damage he’d done to Amanda’s soul. Jordan had seen the bruises in her eyes every time she’d looked at him, and the memory made him want to find the bastard who’d hurt her and systematically tear him apart.

  Jordan turned onto his stomach and tried to put the scattered images of the past two days out of his thoughts. This time, just before he dropped off to sleep, was reserved for thoughts of Becky, as always.

  He waited, but his late wife’s face didn’t form in his mind. He could only see Amanda, with her wide, trusting blue eyes, her soft, spun-honey hair, her shapely and inviting body. He wanted her with a desperation that made his loins ache.

  Furious, Jordan slammed one fist into the mattress and flipped onto his back, training all his considerable energy on remembering Becky’s face.

  He couldn’t.

  After several minutes of concentrated effort, all of it fruitless, panic seized him, and he bolted upright, switched on the lamp and reached for the picture on his nightstand.

  Becky s
miled back at him from the photograph as if to say, Don’t worry, sweetheart. Everything will be okay.

  With a raspy sigh, Jordan set the picture back on the table and turned out the light. Becky’s favorite reassurance didn’t work that night. Maybe things would be okay in the long run, but there was a lot of emotional white water between him and any kind of happy ending.

  It was Saturday morning, and Amanda luxuriated in the fact that she didn’t have to put on makeup, style her hair, or even get dressed if she didn’t want to. She really tried to be lazy, but she felt strangely ambitious, and there was no getting around it.

  She climbed out of bed and padded barefoot into the kitchen, where she got the coffee maker going and fed Gershwin. Then she had a quick shower and dressed in battered jeans, a Seahawks T-shirt and sneakers.

  She was industriously vacuuming the living room rug, when the telephone rang.

  The sound was certainly nothing unusual, but it fairly stopped Amanda’s heart. She kicked the switch on the vacuum cleaner with her toe and lunged for the telephone, hoping to hear Jordan’s voice since she hadn’t seen or heard from him in nearly a week.

  Instead it was her mother. “Hello, darling,” said Marion Whitfield. “You sound breathless. Were you just coming in from the store or something?”

  Amanda sank onto the couch. “No, I was only doing housework,” she replied, feeling deflated even though she loved and admired this woman who had made a life for herself and both her daughters after the man of the house had walked out on them all.

  “That’s nice,” Marion commented, for she was a great believer in positive reinforcement. “Listen, I called to ask if you’d like to go Christmas shopping with me. We could have lunch, too, and maybe even take in a movie.”

  Amanda sighed. She still didn’t feel great about Christmas, and the stores and restaurants would be jam-packed. The theaters, of course, would be full of screaming children left there by harried mothers trying to complete their shopping. “I think I’ll just stay home, if you don’t mind.” She stated the refusal in a kindly tone, not wanting to hurt her mother’s feelings.

  “Is everything all right?”

  Amanda caught one fingernail between her teeth for a moment before answering, “Mostly, yes.”

  “It’s time you put that nasty experience with James Brockman behind you,” Marion said forth-rightly.

  The two women were friends, as well as mother and daughter, and Amanda was not normally secretive with Marion. However, the thing with Jordan was too new and too fragile to be discussed; after all, he might never call again. “I’m trying, Mom,” she replied.

  “Well, Bob and I want you to come over for dinner soon. Like tomorrow, for instance.”

  “I’ll let you know,” Amanda promised quickly as the doorbell made its irritating buzz. “And stop worrying about me, okay?”

  “Okay,” Marion answered without conviction just before Amanda hung up.

  Amanda expected one of the neighbor children, or maybe the postman with a package, so when she opened the door and found Jordan standing in the hallway, she felt as though she’d just run into a wall at full tilt.

  For his part, Jordan looked a little bewildered, as though he might be surprised to find himself at Amanda’s door. “I should have called,” he said.

  Amanda recovered herself. “Come in,” she replied with a smile.

  He hesitated for a moment, then stepped into the apartment, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. He was wearing jeans and a green turtleneck, and his brown hair was damp from the Seattle drizzle. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out to lunch or something.”

  Amanda glanced at the clock on the mantel and was amazed to see that it was nearly noon. The morning had flown by in a flurry of housecleaning. “Sure,” she said. “I’ll just clean up a little—”

  He reached out and caught hold of her hand when she would have disappeared into her bedroom. “You look fine,” he told her, and his voice was very low, like the rumble of an earthquake deep down in the ground.

  By sheer force of will, Amanda shored up her knees, only to have him pull her close and lock his hands lightly behind the small of her back. A hot flush made her cheeks ache, and she had to force herself to meet his eyes.

  Jordan chuckled. “Do I really scare you so much?” he asked.

  Amanda wet her lips with the tip of her tongue in an unconscious display of nervousness. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  The question was reasonable, but Amanda didn’t know the answer. “I’m not sure.”

  He grinned. “Where would you like to go for lunch?”

  She would have been content not to go out at all, preferring just to stand there in his arms all afternoon, breathing in his scent and enjoying the lean, hard feel of his body against hers. She gave herself an inward shake. “You know, I just refused a similar invitation from my mother, and she would have thrown in a movie.”

  Jordan laughed and smoothed Amanda’s bangs back from her forehead. “All right, so will I.”

  But Amanda shook her head. “Too many munchkins screaming and throwing popcorn.”

  His expression changed almost imperceptibly. “Don’t you like kids?”

  “I love them,” Amanda answered, “except when they’re traveling in herds.”

  Jordan chuckled again and gave her another light kiss. “Okay, we’ll go to something R-rated. Nobody under seventeen admitted without a parent.”

  “You’ve got a deal,” Amanda replied.

  Just as he was helping her get into her coat, the telephone rang. Praying there wasn’t a disaster at the Evergreen to be taken care of, Amanda answered, “Hello?”

  “Hello, Amanda.” She hadn’t heard that voice in six long months, and the sound of it stunned her. It was James.

  Grimacing at Jordan, she spoke into the receiver. “I don’t want to talk to you, now or ever.”

  “Please don’t hang up,” James said quickly.

  Amanda bit down on her lip and lowered her eyes. “What is it?”

  “Madge is divorcing me.”

  She drew a deep breath and let it out again. “Congratulations, James,” she said, not with cruelty but with resignation. After all, it was no great surprise, and she had no idea why he felt compelled to share the news with her.

  “I’d like for you and me to get back together,” he said in that familiar tone that had once rendered her pliant and gullible.

  “There’s absolutely no chance of that,” Amanda replied, forcing herself to meet Jordan’s gaze again. He was standing at the door, his hand on the knob, watching her with concern but not condemnation. “Goodbye, James.” With that, she placed the receiver back in its cradle.

  Jordan remained where he was for a long moment, then he crossed the room to where Amanda stood, bundled in her coat, and gently lifted her hair out from under her collar. “Still want to go out?” he asked quietly.

  Amanda was oddly shaken, but she nodded, and they left the apartment together. The phone began ringing again when they reached the top of the stairs, but this time Amanda made no effort to answer it.

  “I guess I can’t blame him for being persistent,” Jordan remarked when they were seated in the Porsche. “You’re a beautiful woman, Amanda.”

  She sighed, ignoring the compliment because it didn’t register. “I’ll never forgive James for lying to me the way he did,” she got out. Tears stung her eyes as she remembered the blinding pain of his deceit.

  Jordan pulled out into the rainy-day traffic and kept his eyes on the road. “He wants you back,” he guessed.

  Amanda noticed that his hands tensed slightly around the steering wheel.

  “That’s what he said,” she confessed, staring out at the decorated streets but not really seeing them.

  “Do you believe him?”

  Amanda shrugged. “It doesn’t matter whether I do or not. I’ve made my decision and I’m not going to change my mind.” She found some tissue in her purse and reso
lutely dried her eyes, trying in vain to convince herself that Jordan hadn’t noticed she was crying.

  He drove to a pizza joint across the street from a mall north of the city. “This okay?” he asked, bringing the sleek car to a stop in one of the few parking spaces available. “We could order takeout if you’d rather not go in.”

  Amanda drew a deep breath, composing herself. The time with James was behind her, and she wanted to keep it there, to enjoy the here and now with Jordan. Christmas crowds or none. “Let’s eat here,” she said.

  He favored her with a half grin and came around to open her door for her. As she stood, she accidentally brushed against him, and felt that familiar twisting ache deep inside herself. She was going to end up making love with Jordan Richards, she just knew it. It was inevitable.

  The realization that he was reading her thoughts once more made Amanda blush, and she drew back when he took her hand. His grip only became firmer, however, and she didn’t try to pull away again. She was in the mood to follow where Jordan might lead—which, to Amanda’s way of thinking, made it a darned good thing they were approaching the door of a pizza parlor instead of a bedroom.

  3

  The pizza was uncommonly good, it seemed to Amanda, but memories of the R-rated movie they saw afterward made her fidget in the passenger seat of Jordan’s Porsche. “I’ve never heard of anybody doing that with an ice cube,” she remarked with a slight frown.

  Jordan laughed. “That was interesting, all right.”

  “Do you think it was symbolic?”

  He was still grinning. “No. It was definitely hormones, pure and simple.”

  Amanda finally relaxed a little and managed to smile. “You’re probably right.”

  Since there were a lot of cars parked in front of Amanda’s building, a sleek silver Mercedes among them, Jordan parked almost a block away. It seemed natural to hold hands as they walked back to the entrance.