Читать книгу Through Jenna's Eyes - Кристи Голд - Страница 7

For the past year, Jenna Fordyce had lived in a world of shadows and solitude, and at times excruciating pain, both physically and emotionally. Yet the one night she’d chosen to venture outside her safe haven to celebrate her best friend’s thirtieth birthday, she’d landed in a precarious situation—with a cut on her forehead and a possible concussion, being tended by an off-duty doctor in a strange man’s apartment.

An exclusive apartment, Jenna had decided the minute she’d walked into the elevator on Logan O’Brien’s arm. A very large apartment, she’d realized when they’d crossed the uncarpeted floor and she’d noticed the echo of their footsteps. She’d become skilled at discerning details by relying on other senses aside from sight, particularly sound. Right now she heard the murmur of low voices, and suspected she was most likely the topic of conversation. No doubt the doctor was informing his brother that she was practically blind, not under the influence.

The rapid shuffle of bare feet drew Jenna’s complete attention. A child’s feet, she decided, and confirmed that when she squinted against the light and saw a small figure standing before her, only a vague image viewed through the hazy film of her failing eyes. She felt the tiny hand resting on her wrist, and experienced the inherent maternal instinct that sent her arms open wide to welcome little Sean.

When he climbed into her lap and rested his cheek against her breast, Jenna laid her cheek on top of his head, inhaled his sweet after-bath scent, absorbed his warmth and turned her thoughts to another baby boy. The one who had recently been little more to her than a voice on the phone, a precious “I love you, Mommy,” to carry her through the lonely days and nights. The gift that kept her going. And hoping.

“Nothing like making yourself right at home in the lady’s lap, Sean.”

Devin O’Brien’s voice, Jenna determined. She’d immediately found an affinity with the caring doctor. The jury was still out on the doctor’s hardcase brother. “He’s not bothering me, at all, Devin.”

“That’s because he’s finally tired.”

When Devin lifted Sean from her lap, Jenna wanted to ask him to wait a few more minutes. To give her a little more time to fill her empty arms and heart. She slid her glasses back into place, this time to hide the threatening tears. “May I go home now?”

“You’re going to stay here with me tonight.”

Logan’s commanding voice made Jenna bristle. “That’s not necessary.”

“Doctor’s orders,” Devin added in a more even tone. “Logan told me you’d be spending the night alone, and we’d both feel better if you had some company, in case you have any problems from the injury.”

Maybe Devin would feel better, but Jenna doubted Logan shared that opinion. He probably wished she’d never had the bouncer call for a driver. Frankly, she wished she’d called a cab, which she could still do now.

She took a moment to weigh her options, all two of them. She could insist on going home and hope for the best, or stay and know someone would be there if she did suffer latent effects from the fall. She’d fought hard to maintain as much independence as possible, but under the current circumstances, she had no choice but to give up some of that hard-won freedom. The price she had to pay for taking a foolish risk. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

“Good,” Devin said. “And you don’t have to worry about Logan. He has a guest room upstairs, and he’s a decent guy. Although, I’m much better looking.”

“And married, Dev. Now, go home to your wife.”

Logan’s tone held a touch of amusement, something he evidently reserved for family members only, Jenna decided. He certainly hadn’t sounded the least bit amused since the moment he’d become her reluctant escort. “Thanks for everything, Devin.”

“You’re welcome. Tell Jenna good-night, Sean.”

“Night, night,” came the childlike voice, followed by a soft baby kiss on her cheek, filling Jenna with more yearning and more memories. “Good night, sweetie. Sleep tight.”

She listened with longing to Sean’s toddler babble and the brotherly banter as the trio left the room. But when she heard the final goodbyes and the closing door in the distance, she was overcome with a solid case of jitters.

Logan O’Brien made her nervous, and it wasn’t due to his imposing height; she was much shorter than most men. It wasn’t even the edge in his voice, or his stoic demeanor. His overt, man-in-control attitude made her wary. Many a woman might be drawn to that take-charge aura, but she didn’t intend to count herself among them.

“We need to talk.”

The deep timbre of Logan’s voice startled Jenna, causing her hand to flutter to her throat. “I didn’t realize you were back.”

She heard the scrape of furniture immediately before Logan came somewhat into view. “I’m right here. Now, explain to me why you didn’t tell me you can’t see.”

Logan O’Brien pulled no punches, and normally Jenna would find that refreshing. But not necessarily in this instance. “I don’t usually greet strangers with ‘Hi, my name’s Jenna Fordyce. I’m as blind as that proverbial bat.’”

“That only accounts for our initial meeting, not for the rest of the time we’ve been together,” he said. “Try again.”

She wasn’t certain how to explain, aside from handing him the truth. “Tonight was the first time I’ve been out of the house for months, socially speaking. I wanted to be viewed as normal, and spared the usual pity.” At least for a while.

“How long have you been this way?”

“A total recluse or a sassy pants, as my mother used to say?” Before her mother had been taken from her, when Jenna had just turned thirteen.

He released an impatient sigh. “How long have you had problems with your vision?”

Longer than she cared to recall. “I was diagnosed with a form of corneal dystrophy when I was in my early teens. At first, it wasn’t too bad, aside from the eye infections, but I’ve always known it would continue to progress.”

“Exactly how much can you see?”

“Not much. It’s a little like looking through shattered, cloudy glass. Everything’s distorted. I can see shapes, but no real details. Or I can when I’m not wearing sunglasses.”

He reached up and pulled the shades away, something Jenna preferred he hadn’t done. Since Devin had dimmed the lights earlier, she wasn’t too concerned over her photosensitivity. She was worried about how her eyes would appear to him.

“Can you see me better now?” he asked.

“I can tell you’re sitting in front of me, but that’s about it.”

“And there’s not one damn procedure in this day and time that will help you?”

He sounded as frustrated as Jenna often felt, and she found that remarkable, coming from a man she’d just met. “A corneal transplant is the only cure.”

“And that involves finding a donor,” he said.

“Yes. I’ve been waiting over a year. Of course, if it were up to my father, he’d try to buy a set of corneas. Or at the very least, wield his influence to have me moved up on the list.”

“But you won’t let him.”

She shook her head. “That wouldn’t be fair. I’ve spent a good deal of my life as a sighted person when there are people waiting who’ve never had that advantage. Some are even children. They should be first in line.”

“That’s an admirable attitude.”

She shifted slightly. “Before you start thinking I’m ready for sainthood, you have to understand that having a transplant isn’t something I take lightly. Sometimes it scares me to think about it. But I’m willing to wait.” Wait for someone to die in order to see, a fact Jenna tried not to dwell on. If she had only herself to consider, she would accept her limitations and forget the procedure. She’d use her cane all the time and consider finding a guide dog. But she had a three-and-a-half-year-old son counting on her, even if several hundred miles had separated them for the past few months.

“If you have the transplant, your vision will be restored completely?” Logan asked.

“That’s what I’m hoping.” Although, she would also be facing possible tissue rejection and the chance that the disease could return in a few years’ time following the transplant.

“That’s got to be tough. I can’t imagine not being able to see.”

“I’ve learned to compensate by thinking about what I’ll do when I can see again.” Being able to care for her child was top priority. “In the meantime, I have to rely on developing mental portraits using other senses. I’ll demonstrate, if you’ll let me touch you.”

“Oh, yeah?” She could hear the smile in his voice.

Jenna released a shaky laugh when she realized how suggestive that sounded. “I meant, I want to touch your face to get a better idea of what you look like, if that’s okay.”

“What if you’re disappointed?”

She shrugged. “Honestly, I’ve learned that true character has nothing to do with physical attractiveness. I just like to have a frame of reference.”

“Then, go ahead,” he said. “Touch away.”

Jenna was a little unnerved by the provocative quality of his voice, but not enough to discourage her. “My depth perception is nonexistent, so you’re going to have to help me. I’ll start with your hair and work my way down.”

When she held out her hands and closed her eyes, he placed her hands on either side of his temples. She feathered her fingertips through his hair—a nice, thick head of hair. “You’re definitely not going bald.”

“Not that I’ve noticed.”

“What color is your hair?” she asked.

“Black.”

He had the “tall” and “dark” down, and the time had come to verify the “handsome.” Jenna began by outlining his forehead with her fingertips before brushing her thumbs over his brows. “What about your eyes?”

“They’re blue.”

Her artistic nature took over. “Sky-blue? Aqua-blue? Cobalt?”

“I’ve never thought about it before. I guess, sky-blue.” He sounded somewhat self-conscious, and Jenna found that endearing coming from such a macho guy.

“Most people take the details for granted,” she said, though she never had. “That’s quite a striking contrast, black hair and light-blue eyes.”

“My mother’s half Armenian, and my father’s Irish. I’m a mix of both.”

“Interesting.” And so was his nose that she now examined. When she contacted a slight indentation on the right side of the bridge, she asked, “What happened here?”

“I jumped out of an airplane and landed on my face.”

“Seriously?” she asked around her shock.

He released a low, sexy laugh. “I got hit by a pitch when I was up to bat during a high-school baseball game. I thought the skydiving thing sounded more interesting.”

She wasn’t surprised he’d been a jock, but she was taken aback by his sudden show of humor. She wasn’t surprised by the strength of his jaw, covered by whiskers that lightly abraded her palms, but the creases along his cheeks threw her a bit. “You have dimples.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

She smiled. “Unfortunately? Women love dimples. It gives a man a boyish quality.”

“If you say so,” he said with extreme skepticism.

While she traced his full lips with a fingertip, Jenna put all the finer points together, creating a mental sculpture that probably wouldn’t do justice to the real thing. But she’d discerned enough to know that he was definitely attractive.

And absolutely masculine, she realized when she ran her fingers over his prominent Adam’s apple and down his corded neck that ended beneath stretchy knit. “You’re wearing a T-shirt.” She dropped her hands to his thighs. “And jeans.” She found his foot with her own foot and gave it a nudge. “Boots, but not the cowboy kind. Hiking boots. You’re an outdoorsman. Do you like to hike?”

“Yeah. Hiking and camping. But with the job, I haven’t been in a few years.”

Her mind wandered back to a better time, a better place, when she’d still had her sight. “I used to hike quite a bit when I was younger.”

“How old are you now?”

Although his query was abrupt, and some might say inappropriate, Jenna liked his no-holds-barred attitude. It certainly beat having people view her as too fragile. “I turned thirty last month. And you?”

“Thirty-four.”

She hid an unexpected yawn behind her hand. “Now that I’ve gotten to know you better, I suppose I can comfortably spend the night with you.”

“Are you ready to go to bed now?”

She grinned. “I don’t know you that well.”

He cleared his throat. “I meant, are you ready for me to show you to the guest room.”

“I’m teasing. I knew what you meant. You go to your bed, I go to mine.”

“When you put it that way, it doesn’t sound too damn appealing, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

The sudden onset of silence was heavy, almost stifling. The undeniable tension passing between them required no visual confirmation, only instinct. And Jenna had always had good instincts, even before she’d lost her vision. But as much as she would like to throw caution aside, maybe offer Logan O’Brien a little encouragement, her intuition warned her to back off, before she made another mistake tonight.

When she realized she still had one hand planted on Logan’s thigh, she drew it back as if she’d suffered an electrical jolt. In many ways, she had. “Does your guest room happen to have a TV?”

“Just a bed. I don’t have many guests.”

At least not any guests that required their own bed, Jenna surmised. “Do you have a TV in here?”

“A forty-two-inch plasma. Why?”

Of course he would ask that question. Why would a blind woman be interested in something she couldn’t see? “I like to have a TV turned on when I go to bed. The sound helps me sleep.”

“I know what you mean. I usually fall asleep watching sports right here in the living room.”

“Then the living room it is. Just show me to the sofa and turn on the TV.”

He took her hand and helped her to her feet. “I’ll make a deal with you. Since I’ve been instructed by my brother to keep an eye on you, you can have the sofa and I’ll sleep in the lounger.”

“You really don’t have to do that. I’m feeling fine. No nausea. No dizziness.” Not exactly true. Knowing he was so close made her a little light-headed.

“Look, Jenna, unless you’re going to trust me enough to sleep in the same bed with you, then you’re going to have to deal with me staying in the living room so I can watch you.”

She wasn’t certain she could trust herself to sleep in the same bed with him. “Okay, but you don’t have to watch me all night.”

He ran a fingertip along her cheek. “I have no problem watching you all night.”

Jenna experienced a rush of inexplicable heat and a round of regret that she couldn’t see him. But she’d felt the softness of his touch, sensed his gaze and, for the first time in a long time, felt like a normal—and desirable—woman.

Jenna Fordyce was one hell of a stubborn woman, something Logan had discovered when she’d rejected his offer to assist her while she got ready for bed. Right now she was in the downstairs half bath putting on the T-shirt he’d loaned her, while he waited outside the door, hoping she didn’t fall again. And that was probably just as well. Watching her dress was a bad idea.

Her earlier exploration had brought about a physical reaction that he couldn’t ignore. He also couldn’t discard her attitude about her condition, which had been nothing short of amazing. He was having a hard time ignoring her, period.

Still, he didn’t particularly like that she’d failed to tell the truth about her vision problems and he couldn’t help but wonder what else she might be hiding. He hated deception of any kind, even more so due to his ex-fiancée’s betrayal. But after Jenna had explained her reasons for not telling him the truth, he’d understood her motivation on some level. He didn’t understand why he was so damned attracted to her. Of course, she was a great-looking woman, but that wasn’t all. He admired her need for independence and appreciated her insecurities. She might have been robbed of her sight, but she probably saw a lot more than most people who had twenty-twenty vision. She’d definitely seen more in him than most women, without evening knowing what he looked like.

And that pretty much answered his question. Throw all those traits into the mix, and you had a remarkable woman wrapped up in a petite package. Regardless, his post-Helena burn had yet to heal, and the last thing he wanted was another female complication. Jenna Fordyce didn’t strike him as a one-night-stand kind of girl, and, lately, that’s all that had interested him. No commitments. No promises. Nothing that even remotely resembled a steady relationship.

He also didn’t need Jenna hurting herself again, exactly what Logan feared she’d done when a clattering sound filtered through the closed door. He rapped his knuckles on the facing and called, “Are you okay in there?” And if she didn’t answer in two seconds, he was going to break down the door.

“I’m fine,” she said. “I dropped the toothbrush in the sink and knocked over the toothpaste.”

At least she hadn’t dropped onto the floor. “Do you need anything?”

“Not unless you happen to have some eye-makeup remover.”

He very well could. But he was tempted to deny it in order to avoid having to explain. Then again, if she really needed it, he should give it to her. “Are you decent?”

“That’s debatable, but you can come in.”

Logan opened the door to find her wearing the threadbare T-shirt that hit her midthigh, standing in front of the mirror and rubbing a washcloth over her face. Ignoring the clothes piled on the marble counter—including a skimpy lace bra—he strode to the vanity, opened the drawer, pulled out the metallic-gold makeup bag and rifled through it. And he’d be damned if he didn’t find exactly what she was looking for.

He withdrew the blue bottle and put in her hand. “Here you go. Eye-makeup remover.”

She frowned. “Is there something you’re not telling me about yourself, Logan?”

“I don’t wear makeup, if that’s what you’re asking. It belongs to someone else.”

“You have a girlfriend.”

“I have an ex-girlfriend.”

“I see.” She opened the lid and dabbed the washcloth with the clear liquid. “But you’ve kept a few reminders.”

“Yeah. To remind me of one of the many reasons why we’re not together anymore. She wore too much makeup.”

“Okay.”

Logan expected Jenna to question his other reasons, but she concentrated on removing the mascara. He liked that she hadn’t grilled him. Liked that she’d let past history remain in the past. He liked her a lot and couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that way about a woman.

She blew out a frustrated sigh. “I should never have let Candice put makeup on me. It’s a pain in the butt, and if I don’t get it off, it could cause problems.” Then she turned to him and asked, “Is it gone, or am I ready for Halloween four months early?”

“Let me help.” He took the cloth from her hand, clasped her chin and wiped at the smudges beneath her lower lids. He was very aware of their close proximity. Aware that she wasn’t wearing a bra beneath the shirt, and that particular knowledge was creating major havoc on his body. If he didn’t get away now, he was in danger of kissing her.

On that thought, he tossed the rag into the sink and backed up a step. “It’s all gone. And you don’t need any makeup.”

She smiled. “I bet you say that to all the women you rescue from the clutches of evil mascara.”

“This is a first. I’ve never intentionally taken off a woman’s makeup.”

“I’m sure you’re very good at removing lipstick.”

“Could be.” And if she had any on now, which she didn’t, he’d be glad to remove it for her. “Are you finished?”

She pushed her hair back with one hand. “I believe I am. Are you?”

When he realized how close he was coming to making a fatal error, Logan took her by the arm and guided her back into the living room to settle her on the sofa. “Stretch out and I’ll cover you up.”

After she complied, Logan pulled the blanket up to her chin, concealing her body and giving him some much-needed relief. “Is that okay?”

She worked her arms from underneath the covers. “It’s fine. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I don’t know. You sound almost angry.”

“I’m not angry.” At least not at her.

She stretched her arms above her head before folding them beneath her breasts. “Then you’re not going to boot me out on my butt after I fall asleep?”

“You’re safe.” But if she knew what he was thinking—that he’d like to climb on that couch with her—she might be the one doing the booting.

After grabbing up the remote from the coffee table, Logan switched on the TV. “Any particular show you want to watch?”

“It doesn’t matter to me, as long as there’s audio. You decide.”

A return to his regularly scheduled program might offer a solid distraction. “I recorded the baseball game. They were in extra innings when I left to pick you up.”

“I know. I also know the score. I heard some guys talking at the bar.”

He set the remote back on the table. “Don’t tell me or you’ll ruin it.”

“I’ll let you be surprised, then.” She rolled to her side to face him and began twisting the corner of the blanket. “Before you settle in for the night, there’s something I need to ask you.”

Jenna’s tone was so somber, he worried that maybe she wasn’t feeling well. Worried that he might have to make a trip to the E.R. after all. But her well-being mattered more than the inconvenience. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” She closed her lids, then opened them slowly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen myself in the mirror, and I want to know if my eyes—”

“They’re as beautiful as the rest of you.” And they were—pale brown, round eyes framed by long, dark lashes. No, she didn’t need any makeup. She was perfect just the way she was. Maybe even too perfect.

Jenna smiled, but to Logan it looked almost sad. “I bet you say that to all the blind girls who end up on your sofa.”

“You’re the first, and it’s the truth.”

When she reached out her hand, he took it without hesitation. “Thanks, Logan. I’m glad we met.”

“So am I.” And he was, more than he cared to admit. “Now, get some sleep.”

He gave her hand a squeeze and took his place in the lounger several feet away. He tried to concentrate on the game, but he was too busy analyzing the woman on his couch. He wondered if she was as real as she seemed. If everything she’d told him was accurate. If he’d misjudged her due to his own bitter experience. He suspected he had, and he wanted more proof.

For Logan O’Brien, the night might have begun with an unwelcome interruption, but it had ended with one huge surprise—Jenna Fordyce.