Читать книгу Forever...Again - Maureen Child - Страница 12

Ron thought he was just a little too old to be staying up all night thinking about a great pair of legs and big brown eyes.

Apparently, though, his body didn’t agree.

Damn it, Lily Cunningham was making him nuts. And that wasn’t an easy thing to pull off. He was known throughout Kentucky as one hardheaded son of a bitch. When it came to business, Ron wrote the book on how to be focused. How to win by wearing your opponent down. How to never surrender. Never let the other guy see you sweat.

Well, he was sweating now.

And it had nothing to do with business.

Maybe it had to do with being trapped in the damn condo he’d thought was such a great idea a year ago. Smaller than the house he’d shared with Violet—the place where they’d raised their kids and laughed and loved—the condo was supposed to be easier on him. No memories to cloud his mind. No mementos of years gone by to tug at his heart and make his soul ache.

Instead, the place bugged the hell out of him.

For the exact reason that there were no memories there. It was empty. Devoid of character, charm, life. It was a place to sleep and eat and escape. It wasn’t his home. He’d lost his home when he’d lost Violet.

Grumbling to himself, Ron sipped his coffee and moved out through the French doors to the balcony leading off the small dining room. The trees were still dripping water from last night’s storm. Drops fell in a staccato rhythm from shiny green leaves and sounded like dozens of heartbeats.

How long had it been since there’d been another heartbeat in his house, he wondered. But he didn’t even have to guess. He knew exactly how long. Since Violet died ten years before.

Oh, he was no monk. He’d never been the kind of man to go for long stretches without the company of a woman. Most of his life that woman had been Violet. After she died, it had taken nearly a year for him to find the heart or the energy to seek out company. There’d been dinner dates and country weekends. But he’d never taken any of his dates to the house he’d shared with Violet. It would have seemed like a betrayal of everything they’d shared.

And once he’d moved out and sold that house—leaving behind the gardens Violet had tended with such loving care—he’d gone on as he had been. There were still dates and weekends and women. But none of them had meant enough to him to bring them into his home.

He’d never even considered it. So why, he wondered, was he imagining Lily here? He could almost see her, standing on the balcony and looking out over the forest behind the condo. If he tried hard enough, he could almost see the morning breeze lift her blond hair off the collar of the pale-green silk robe he imagined her in.

“Perfect,” he muttered thickly. Now not only was she invading his dreams at night…she was stomping through his daydreams as well. Guilt stabbed at him, and he felt like a cheating husband, which he knew damn well was ridiculous.

He took a sip of the too-hot coffee and watched a pair of squirrels race across the ground and chase each other up the trunk of a gnarled pine. “Hell, even the squirrels have more of a life than I do.”

Wincing at the sound of self-pity in his voice, Ron gave a quick look around the emptiness surrounding him, as if reassuring himself there’d been no witnesses. Nope. He was safe.