Читать книгу The Seal's Surrender - Maureen Child - Страница 11

Chance wasn’t a family kind of man by any means. But he felt Jennifer’s fear as if it were his own. It rattled through her small body with the force of a freight train and shook him to his bones.

His every instinct told him to rush in and defend. Protect. But none of his training would do a damn sight of good here. And that realization was a bitter pill to choke down.

Hell, he couldn’t even think of something helpful to say. It sucks? Real eloquent, Chance.

He continued to hold her though, hoping his silent support helped in some way. Strange, a few days ago, he hadn’t known or cared that any of these people existed. Now he was standing on the balcony of a mansion, for Pete’s sake, holding a weeping woman.

“What am I doing?” Jennifer muttered as she pulled back out of his arms and took another step away from him just for good measure. “I’m going to rain mascara all over your white uniform.”

No she wouldn’t, he thought, looking into those forest-green eyes of hers. They were big and wet and sad, but there was no smudge of dark makeup around them. Just the remnants of tears she was fighting to control. Damned if he didn’t admire her for that, too.

She could be wallowing in the fear that was close to strangling her, but she wasn’t. Instead, she was holding herself together through the force of her will. Hell, she didn’t even want sympathy. So what exactly was it he could do for her?

“Do you want to go back inside?” he asked.

“God no,” she said, shaking her head and moving back to the railing. Keeping her face averted from both him and the sliding glass doors behind them, she said, “I don’t want them to know I’ve been crying. I just couldn’t take the questions right now.”

Privacy. Something else he could understand. Well, if he couldn’t escort her through the maze of party-goers, he could at least make her eventual trip inside a little easier. “Okay. Just wait here, then. I’ll be back.”

Before she could say anything, he opened the sliding glass doors and stepped back into the party. Noise assaulted him and he instantly missed the relative peace and quiet of the balcony.

Focused, Chance paid no attention to the people around him. He moved through the crowd as if he were on a mission. He kept his goal in mind and went about accomplishing it as quickly as he could. Which wasn’t as easy as he’d expected. There were just too many people.

He cast one quick, nearly wistful glance at the front door, then forgot about leaving and went on with his quest.

When he walked into the kitchen, the folks in there looked as surprised as they would have if lightning had struck the butcher-block work island in the center of the massive room.

“Can I help you, Mr. Chance?”

Grateful, he looked to the woman on his right. Mentally, he scrambled for her name and came up with it an instant later.

“Ruby, right?” he asked.

“That’s me,” the housekeeper said, giving him a nod sharp enough to shake loose a graying red curl from her topknot to lie askew in the middle of her forehead.

In the few days he’d been in town, Chance had seen this woman running the Connelly household—and family, for that matter—with an iron fist. Grant and Emma might think they were in charge, but the truth was, Ruby was the brass around here.

The short, slightly rounded woman with kind blue eyes had the ability to get things done, and Chance appreciated that. Even while keeping under radar, staying unnoticed himself. He’d seen how his half brothers and sisters scampered when Ruby gave an order. Hell, even his father, Grant, didn’t argue when she laid down the law.

Clearly, she’d been in charge so long, she never even considered the possibility that people wouldn’t obey her without question. In the military, she might have made it to the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Here, she ran the Connelly household like a well-oiled machine and wouldn’t accept anything less.

“Now, how can I help you?” she asked, snatching his attention as she would have the hand of a child inclined to wander off.

Chance glanced around at the others clustered within hearing distance, reluctant to speak up with so many eager ears nearby. The housekeeper noticed and clapped her hands sharply. “What are you bunch staring at? Get about your business. Don’t you have drinks and canapés you could be serving?”

They scattered like windblown leaves, and, in seconds, he was alone in the room with Ruby. “I’m impressed,” he said.

“For running them off? Don’t be. I am sorry about them, though,” the woman said, with a shake of her head. “They’re day help for the party and their mamas apparently forgot to teach them any manners.”

He smiled. “I have a feeling you’ll take care of that.”

She straightened up and puffed out her chest. “I’ll do my best in the short time I have them,” she assured him. “So what is it you need, Mr. Chance?”

He winced a little at the implied title. Now, people calling him “Commander,” he’d earned. He could even live with “Hey, sailor,” but “Mr. Chance”? No way. That was just way too highfalutin. “Just, Chance, all right?”

One corner of her mouth twitched, but she only nodded. “Chance it is, then.” She studied him for a long minute, then said, “You know, you’ve the look of your father around the eyes. More so than your brother does.”

Chance shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t necessarily want to be reminded that he looked like the man who’d managed to ignore both him and his brother their whole lives. What was he supposed to say to that, anyway? Thank you didn’t seem appropriate somehow. So he ignored the comment entirely.

After all, it wasn’t as if he’d come here looking to find family. He already had his family. Douglas. With the death of their mother, all they had left was each other. And that had always been enough before.

The only reason he was here at all was as a favor to Doug. And if he hadn’t been shot by that sneaky little terrorist on his last mission, he wouldn’t have had to put up with any of the pomp and circumstance surrounding the Connellys. But then, he wouldn’t have been here to ride to Jennifer’s rescue, either, would he?

And that thought returned him to why he’d come to the kitchen in the first place.

“Any chance I could get a glass of water and a box of tissues?” he asked.

Ruby narrowed her eyes thoughtfully as she looked at him. “Feel a crying jag coming on, do you?”

Chance played along. “Yes, ma’am. I’m feeling real emotional.”

She snorted. “Yeah, I can see that.” But without another word, she bustled around the room and came back with just what he’d asked for. As he turned to leave the room, though, her voice stopped him. “You tell Jennifer for me that everything’s going to be all right.”

He looked at her. Shouldn’t be surprised, he thought. He’d already discovered that nothing much went on around here that Ruby didn’t know about. “What?”

“I’ve been with the Connellys for more years than I care to admit. Not much gets past me. I know there’s something wrong.”

Nodding, he told her, “You would have made a good admiral.”

“Phooey,” she said, waving one hand to dismiss him. “Admirals are small stuff. I’d have made a good president.”

“You know something?” he said, giving her a wink, “I believe you.” Then he slipped from the room before she could give him any orders he’d be too afraid not to follow.

“Oh, this is good,” Jennifer told herself aloud as she clutched the balcony railing and stared out at Lake Michigan. “Way to ensure your employment, Jen.” Shaking her head, she blinked back tears that still threatened and solemnly vowed they wouldn’t fall. She’d already screwed up big-time.

What had she been thinking? Crying on the shoulder of the guest of honor at her employer’s party. The one time she indulged in a good old-fashioned pity party, she had to be caught by Mr. Tall, Dark and Dangerous.

“For goodness’ sake,” she grumbled, tightening her grip on the cold iron railing. She lifted her face into the wind sweeping in off the lake and told herself that if she was very lucky, the newest addition to the Connelly family would keep her embarrassing behavior to himself.

Although, for all she knew he was inside now, trying to get Emma to come out and comfort her, readily handing off the crazed secretary to someone else. She could almost imagine him, stalking through the party, heading for the front door as fast as he could. And she couldn’t really blame him, either.

What man wanted to be a human tissue for a weeping woman? Especially one he hardly knew.

Behind her, the glass door slid open, allowing a brief pulse of conversation and piano music onto the balcony, and in an instant, the door closed again, sealing off the intrusion.

She didn’t turn around. She didn’t have to. She knew who it was. She felt his presence almost as an electrical charge. Her nerve endings hummed and the hairs at the back of her neck stood straight up.

Probably not a good sign.

“Sorry I took so long,” he said and darned if his voice didn’t scrape along those already tense nerves.

Get a grip, Jen. He’s your boss’s stepson. He’s a stranger. He doesn’t give a damn about your problems and there’s nothing between you but an embarrassing crying jag.

So why was her stomach suddenly in knots and her breath coming fast and hard?

Because you’re an idiot, she told herself just before turning to look at him.

Well, that didn’t help any. He was just too darned good-looking, that was the problem. He looked like a poster boy for navy recruiting. Or like one of those navy lawyers on that television show. His uniform shone a bright white against the backdrop of the blue lake and shimmering April sky. The ribbons decorating his chest drew her eye as did the SEAL pin he wore proudly. Then she looked farther up, into his eyes, and saw…concern. And that nearly did her in on the spot.

Darn it.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Oh, dandy,” she told him and sniffed.

He held out the box of tissues and she gratefully snatched one free of the dispenser. She wiped her eyes, blew her nose and still didn’t feel better.

“Here, drink this.” He offered the tall, pale-blue glass he carried.

“What is it?” she asked as she reached for it. “Hemlock?”

“Nothing so deadly,” he said with a half laugh. “Just water.”

She took a drink, letting the liquid soothe her tight throat before trying to talk again. Lifting her gaze to his, she said, “Thank you. For the tissue and the water.”

“Here to serve, ma’am,” he said.

“But I bet you didn’t expect to have to go above and beyond the call at a party.”

He shrugged. “Hey, a party, a terrorist situation—the SEALS can handle it all.”

“Good to know,” she muttered, then, still clutching her glass of water, turned around again to stare out at the lake. She couldn’t keep looking at him. That just wasn’t good for her equilibrium. Way better on her nerves to stare out at a lake the size of an ocean, its choppy waves slapping toward Lake Shore Drive.

“Tell me about your daughter,” he said quietly and Jennifer’s eyes closed briefly on a twinge of something as painful as it was tender.

But she supposed she owed him this, for crying all over him.

“Sarah’s so smart,” she said, and though her voice started out thin and trembling, talking about her pride and joy strengthened it. Shaking her head, she continued, “She started talking before she was a year old and now she’s already arguing with me.” Jennifer chuckled, and the sound grated against her throat. “When she’s a teenager—” when not if, she told herself silently “—we’ll probably lock horns all the time.”

“Probably,” he said agreeably. “God knows Doug and I drove our poor mother nuts when we were teenagers. Of course your Sarah most likely won’t be into drag racing, so that’s one worry you won’t have.”

She flicked him a glance, not at all surprised by his little admission. He was a SEAL, after all. And clearly he loved his job. So it naturally followed that as a kid, he would have sought out dangerous pastimes.

Just like Mike, she thought with an inward acknowledgment of old pain. The two of them would have gotten along great together, no doubt. Then, as if he’d sensed what she was thinking, the man beside her spoke up again.

“Your husband must be just as proud of her as you are,” Chance said.

“My husband’s dead,” she said, tasting the words it had taken her so long to get used to saying.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” he said.

“You didn’t know,” she said softly. “No reason to be sorry. He’s been gone almost two years now.” She sighed heavily. “He never even knew Sarah.”

A long uncomfortable minute passed before he said, “I was raised by a single mother,” he said. “I know how hard it is.”

She looked up at him, into those whiskey-colored eyes and read understanding there. And darn it, she appreciated it. Though Emma was beyond kind and a good friend as well as an employer, she couldn’t really appreciate what it was like to be the sole person responsible for raising a child. Not when she had Grant, as much in love with her today as he had been years ago.

Then he said, “If you don’t mind my asking, how did your husband die?”

“Mike was a police officer,” she said, lifting her chin just a bit. “He was killed in the line of duty. I was still pregnant with Sarah when he died. He never even saw her.”

“Maybe he did,” Chance said and she looked at him. “Maybe he sees her every day.”

“I’d like to think so.”

“I’ve seen enough things over the years to convince me that anything’s possible.” He paused for a long minute, then said, “I never knew my father, either.” Then he stopped and laughed shortly. “At least, not until a few days ago.”

She shook her head in sympathy, though she was glad to turn the subject away from Mike. “I can’t even imagine what that must be like,” she said, choosing her words carefully now. “Finding your blood father after so many years…”

He nodded, lifting his face into the cold, sharp wind. “I know what you mean. I’m not real sure how I feel about it, either. But,” he said, giving a quick look over his shoulder, “it meant something to Doug, so here I am.”

“You only came here for your brother’s sake?”

“Why else?”

“To get to know your family?”

“Nah. My mother’s gone now, so my family is Doug. The rest…” He shook his head again as if he didn’t know quite what else to say.

“The Connellys are nice people,” Jennifer said, wanting him to know that this new family of his was ready and willing to welcome him.

“Seem to be.”

“They’ve been wonderful to me and Sarah.”

He gave her a slow smile. “If your daughter’s anything like you, I can’t see that that would be a hardship.”

Oh, that smile was just as dangerous as the man, she told herself, taking a mental step backward. She didn’t need this kind of complication right now. Her world was Sarah. Her attentions had to be devoted to making her little girl well again. And to help her keep her attentions focused, she knew the best thing to do was to keep her distance from this man.

“I, uh—” She glanced at the sliding glass doors with real regret. Though she knew she had to leave the balcony, she wasn’t looking forward to making small talk while her heart was aching. Still, this party was a big deal for Grant and Emma. Hadn’t Jennifer and her employer been planning it for weeks? No, heartache or not, she had to do her job. “I’d better get back inside,” she said and even she heard the reluctance in her voice.

Chance straightened away from the railing and looked from the doors to her. She wasn’t ready to go back in there and face the chattering mob. He could see it in her eyes. The vulnerability was still there, etched deep.

It was none of his business, of course, but still, he felt a kinship of sorts with her. She was a single mother, as his own mom had been. Her husband had served the public, his country, as Chance did, only he had paid the ultimate price. A rising wave of protectiveness filled him and before he could think more of it, he said, “I think the party can get along without either of us. So why don’t you let me take you home instead?”

She thought about it for a long minute, and he could see in her eyes just how much she wanted to get out of here. The question was, would she?

“As much as I’d like to,” she said, “I don’t think I should—”

“With that crowd in there, no one will even miss us.”

“Emma would.”

He acknowledged that with a brief nod. “Okay, then, we’ll stop and tell her we’re leaving. I should say thanks, anyway.”

Now that her objections were taken care of, all that was stopping her from taking him up on his offer was the fact that he was a virtual stranger—long-lost relative of her employer or not. “You can trust me,” he said softly.

Her lips twitched slightly. “It’s not that,” she said.

“Then what? I’m just offering you a ride home, not a weekend trip to Jamaica.” Why was he trying so hard to convince her? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that suddenly he needed to be the one to see her safely to her door.

She looked beyond the glass doors again to the party, and he saw her shudder. She really didn’t want to go back in there. And damned if he could blame her. He had no interest in rejoining the mob, either.

And playing on that feeling, he said, “You’d be doing me a favor.”

“What?”

He smiled. “You’d be rescuing me from mingling.”

Her lips twitched. “A fate worse than death?”

“Oh, definitely.”

She nodded, and he knew this battle was won. “Well,” she said, her decision made, “I suppose I shouldn’t turn down my one chance to be a hero.”