Through Jenna’s Eyes
Kristi Gold

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my daughter, Kendall Paige, for growing from a

precious child into a remarkable young woman.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Chapter One

Logan O’Brien had learned long ago the phone always rang at inopportune times. During a shower, which he’d already taken. During sex, which unfortunately wasn’t an issue tonight. And in this case, during an extra-inning ball game, which ranked right up there as another worst-case scenario.

After pausing the game with the remote, he grabbed the phone and answered with an irritable, “Yeah.”

“Sorry to bother you, boss, but we have a situation.”

Good old Bob, Logan’s right-hand man. Whenever a problem arose, the retired cop always sounded as if he worked for a Secret Service detail, not as a driver for well-heeled Houston society. “It’s late, Bob. I’ve got the ball game on and I’ve only been home for an hour. So, unless you’re going to tell me that every limo or sedan I own has simultaneously broken down, you handle it.”

“We’ve got an alleged intoxicated female who needs a ride.”

Not the first time one of his employees had faced that situation. “And this is supposed to impress me how?”

“It’s Jenna Fordyce.”

Great. The daughter of his VIP client, Avery Fordyce. Logan’s company took care of all the billionaire’s corporate and personal transportation needs, not to mention the other clients Fordyce had sent his way. “What about Calvin?”

“He’s off tonight. I’d do it, but I’m waiting to take a wedding party to the airport. And I thought since old man Fordyce trusts you, and this is—”

“I know, Bob. His kid.” So much for a night of sitting around in his underwear, relaxing. “I’ll take care of it. Where is she?”

“At a joint called La Danza. It’s on—”

“I know the place.” He’d been there before. Several times over the past year, but not in a few weeks. At least the nightclub was less than two miles from his downtown condo. But the Fordyce estate, where Jenna still resided, was located a good thirty minutes away, longer if the Saturday-night traffic happened to be heavy.

“The bouncer called dispatch about five minutes ago,” Bob added. “He said he’d wait with her until someone got there. I’m thinking she’s in pretty bad shape.”

That didn’t surprise Logan one bit. The club was known for its high-octane drinks. One or two martinis would do the trick for a lightweight socialite. “Fine. I’m on my way.”

After hanging up the phone, Logan sprinted up the stairs to dress in a faded blue T-shirt, jeans and a pair of hiking boots, clothes he would never allow his employees to wear while conducting business. But if the heiress had tied one on, she probably wouldn’t notice his attire. Even if she didn’t approve, right now he only cared about getting this over with so he could get back to the game.

When he reached the parking garage, Logan opted to take his Hummer instead of the roadster, in case she happened to get sick. God, he hoped she didn’t. That would pretty much ruin his night completely.

As he navigated the downtown streets, Logan realized he wasn’t sure he’d be able to pick Jenna Fordyce out of a crowd, considering he’d never officially met her. But he had seen her framed high-school graduation photo on Avery’s desk—a predictably beautiful, dark haired, dark eyed young woman. Daddy’s little princess, just like Logan’s ex-fiancée, who had played the pregnancy card until he’d called her bluff, fortunately before he’d been trumped into marriage.

Yeah, he’d had his fill of debutantes. Society babes who couldn’t see beyond the fact he had the means and the money to keep them in the lifestyle to which they were accustomed. He doubted Jenna Fordyce was any different from the rest, particularly since she was the only child of a widowed business magnate.

A few minutes later, Logan pulled behind a stretch limo, the only space available beneath the portico of the five-star hotel that housed the popular nightclub. He stepped out into the warm June night and immediately caught sight of a no-neck guy with a clean-shaven head standing a few feet away, his arm around a woman.

The closer he came to the couple, the more certain he became that he’d found Jenna Fordyce—a few years older than depicted in the photo, but still as striking. She was conservatively dressed in a blue sleeveless blouse, a white skirt cut right above the knee and low heels. Her brown hair curled past her shoulders and a pair of sunshades covered her eyes, indicating she’d moved past three to at least four sheets in the wind. She was also pressing a white cloth over her right eyebrow, and Logan wondered if she’d engaged in a catfight. That would definitely make the society page tomorrow.

As he approached the unlikely pair, Logan nodded at the presumed bouncer and addressed the woman at his side. “Ms. Fordyce?”

She inclined her head toward him. “Yes?”

“I’m Logan O’Brien, the owner of your father’s transportation service.”

When he offered his hand, she ignored the gesture, fumbled in the skirt’s pocket and withdrew several bills that she pressed into the bouncer’s palm. “This should take care of the bar tab, Johnny, with a little extra for your help. And, if you don’t mind, could you tell my friend I’m leaving now? I wouldn’t want her to worry.”

“What does she look like?” Johnny asked.

“A pretty blonde,” she said. “Her name is Candice and she’s seated at the bar. I believe she’s wearing pink. She always wears pink.”

The bouncer regarded Logan, his arm still firmly around his charge. “Someone needs to check out the cut on her head. She had a pretty nasty fall, but she wouldn’t let me call the paramedics.”

Jenna waved her free hand in dismissal. “It’s nothing.”

When Logan noticed the red seeping through the cloth, he realized the injury could be serious. “Johnny’s right. You’re bleeding. You need a doctor.”

“Can we discuss this in the car?” she asked.

No discussion required. She could argue all the way to the hospital, but he wasn’t about to turn her loose without making sure she was okay. “Let’s go.”

The bouncer held out her arm to Logan. “She’s kind of shaky, so you need to hang on to her.”

Usually Logan wouldn’t mind wrapping his arm around a sexy woman. But this blue-blooded babe didn’t interest him—or shouldn’t—for several reasons.

Logan circled his arm around her waist and braced her elbow with one hand. Slowly, he guided her to the SUV, noticing immediately that she was small, maybe five-two, a foot shorter than him. Definitely not his type. He preferred women with more substance, inside and out.

Once they reached the passenger side, Logan opened the door, helped her up into the seat and, in a show of benevolence, buckled her in. So far, so good. She hadn’t taken another tumble on the way, even though he suspected she might have if he’d let her go, considering how carefully she’d measured her steps. Whatever she’d had to drink, he assumed it must have been fairly potent. But he didn’t detect the smell of alcohol, only the scent of her perfume. Nothing overpowering, just a light fragrance that reminded him of his mother’s favorite lavender soap. That was definitely a switch from the women he’d known who bathed in expensive concoctions designed to turn on a man, when it only served to turn him off.

Logan climbed into the driver’s seat, flipped on the overhead light and pulled his cell phone from the holder attached to the dash. “Do you want to call your father and let him know what’s going on, or should I?”

“Good luck,” she said. “He’s in Chicago on business until tomorrow. And I gave the staff the night off.”

“Anyone else I can call?”

“No.”

Figured. That meant she was his sole responsibility for the time being. He shoved the phone back in the holder and released a rough sigh. “Then I guess it’s you and me and the E.R.”

She frowned. “Just drive me home and I’ll be fine.”

Not until he had a better look at the cut. When he reached over to remove the cloth, she physically jumped, as if he’d scared her out of her skin with a simple touch. “Relax,” he told her as he lifted the makeshift bandage away. “I’m only trying to see how bad this is.”

“It’s a minor scrape,” she said. “I got up close and personal with a wall outside the ladies’ room when I tripped.”

Obviously she hadn’t bothered to check it out in a mirror. “It looks like it might need stitches. The hospital’s not that far.”

“No hospital.” Her voice held an edge of panic. “I don’t care for emergency rooms, or doctors.”

She could be concerned the medical staff would run a tox screen, and that could pose a problem if the press got wind of an off-the-chart blood-alcohol level. Still, her condition might warrant treatment beyond mending a superficial cut, and right now she was Logan’s responsibility. He lifted her hand from her lap and pressed it against the cloth again. “You could have a concussion.”

“I’m certain I don’t.”

“Are you a doctor, Ms. Fordyce?”

“Are you, Mr. O’Brien?”

For the first time in his life, Logan wished he were. Then he could examine her, medically speaking, and take her home. Her home, not his. But medicine hadn’t been his calling…and that gave him an idea. “Look, my brother is a doctor, and he only lives about ten minutes from here. He could probably check it out.”

She mulled that over before saying, “I’ll agree to this, but only if you promise to take me home afterward.”

Not a problem, since that was his plan. “I’ll give him a call and see if he’s available.”

Logan already knew he was. He’d spoken with Devin earlier in the evening and learned he had a rare day off from his duties as chief resident of trauma, which meant this request could cost him. Big-time.

He retrieved the cell phone again, hit the speed dial and hoped he didn’t wake the whole household, including the baby. Or worse, disturb his brother catching up on lost time between the sheets with his wife.

After two rings, Devin answered with his usual, “Dr. O’Brien.”

“Hey, Dev, it’s Logan. Sorry to call you so late.”

“I’m still up, thanks to a kid who’s decided it’s playtime, not bedtime. What’s going on?”

“I have a client who needs medical attention, but she’s not too keen on going to the E.R.” He sent Jenna a quick glance to find her staring out the windshield. “She has a cut on her forehead. Mind if I bring her by so you can take a look at it?”

Devin released a low laugh. “A client, huh? Are you charging for stud service these days?”

He was in no mood for his brother’s attempt at humor. “I provide driving services for her. If you’ll do this, I’ll let you have my season tickets for the home game of your choice.”

“Deal. But if it’s something I can’t handle in a nonhospital setting, then you’re going to have to take her to the E.R.”

That could pose a monumental challenge for Logan. But what choice did he have? “Agreed.”

“Hang on a minute.”

Logan could hear the sounds of muffled voices and realized Devin was consulting his wife. A few moments later, his brother came back to the phone and said, “Stacy’s okay with it, on one condition, aside from the tickets. We do this at your condo, and I have to bring Sean with me. Car rides make him sleepy.”

“Not a problem. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” And it wasn’t a problem for Logan. He enjoyed being around his fifteen-month-old nephew, as long as he could send him home again. What he knew about taking care of a kid for more than a few hours could best be described with two words—not much. As far as taking Jenna to his place, that meant less of a drive. The faster he got this over with, the quicker he could get her back to the Fordyce mansion.

Logan snapped the phone closed and turned his attention back to Jenna. “He’ll meet us at my apartment.”

She kept her gaze trained on the dashboard. “Where do you live?”

“Downtown. A couple of miles from here.”

“I appreciate this,” she said. “I hope I’m not causing too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all.” And that wasn’t exactly true. She could mean big trouble for Logan if he didn’t stop noticing things about her, including the fact she had a great body, even if she was short. He needed to remember she was the daughter of a client. An important client who wouldn’t appreciate any man having questionable thoughts about his daughter. Especially a man whom he trusted to do the right thing—and the right thing would be for Logan to keep his eyes, and his hands, to himself.

“Do you think I can take this cloth away now?” Jenna asked after he started the ignition. “My arm’s getting tired.”

“Let me see.”

When she lowered the rag, Logan lifted her chin and brought her face toward him.

Okay, so she had soft skin and a really nice mouth. So did a lot of women. She probably had a hefty trust fund and an overblown sense of self-worth, too. Logan refused to head down that sorry road again.

“It’s stopped bleeding, so you can take it off,” he said as he returned his hands to the steering wheel and his mind back on business, where they belonged.

He drove back to the loft at a sluggish pace behind the weekend traffic and ill-timed lights. During the trip, Jenna kept her sunglasses in place and her gaze centered straight ahead until they pulled into the parking garage. Aside from a muttered, “thanks,” when he helped her out of the Hummer and into the elevator, she remained silent. That was okay with Logan. He intended to keep their relationship on a strictly professional level. He also planned to keep his distance, but he didn’t feel he could do that until they reached his apartment; the reason why he continued to hold on to her until he had her seated on the club chair in the living room.

“This seems like a nice place,” she said, finally breaking the silence.

Searching for much-needed space, Logan dropped down on the sofa across from the chair. “I bought it from my sister and brother-in-law after they moved into their new house.”

“Then you have one brother and one sister?”

“Actually, four brothers and a sister.”

She smiled. “Wow. I’m an only child, so I can’t imagine having such a large family. What are your parents like?”

Small talk was good. He could handle small talk. “They live in west Houston in the same middle-class neighborhood where I grew up.” Heavy emphasis on “middle class.” Logan wanted Jenna Fordyce to know up front that he hadn’t originated from her side of the society divide, even if his financial situation had changed with his success.

When she made no move to take off her sunglasses, he said, “Feel free to get rid of the shades. I’ve been there before, so I’m not going to judge you.”

She wrung her hands together several times. “The light bothers my eyes.”

Man, he wouldn’t want to be her in the morning. “If you think it’s bad now, wait until tomorrow.”

“Why’s that?”

Obviously she’d never visited hangover central before, whereas, at one time, he’d been a frequent guest. “I take it you don’t drink too often.”

“No, I don’t. I’ve never cared that much for alcohol. I only have a glass of wine on occasion.”

That could explain her current state if she’d had more than a few tonight, but something still didn’t quite ring true for Logan. Her speech didn’t sound the least bit slurred. In fact, she sounded coherent. Probably one of the lucky ones who could drink and drown and still be able to fake sobriety.

When she grew silent again, Logan considered turning on the TV to watch the baseball game he’d recorded, but decided Ms. Fordyce didn’t look like a baseball fan. He suspected tennis was her game, if sports interested her at all. For that reason, he should probably ask what she preferred, and right when he was about to pose the question, the doorbell rang, indicating help had arrived.

Logan pushed off the sofa, strode to the entry and opened the door to his brother who had a duffel bag hanging on one shoulder and a wide-eyed toddler wearing red superhero pajamas braced on one hip.

He stepped aside to let them in. “You made good time.”

“The advantage of learning the fastest route when you’re on call,” Devin said. “Where’s the patient?”

“Right down the hall.”

When they reached the living room, Logan gestured toward his guest who had yet to acknowledge them. “Devin, this is Jenna Fordyce.”

When Devin moved in front of the chair, Jenna offered her hand and a smile, something she hadn’t done with Logan back at the bar. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Devin. I hope I’m not wasting your time.”

“Not a problem,” Devin said as he handed off Sean to Logan before taking Jenna’s hand for a brief shake. He pulled up an ottoman in front of the chair and set his bag in his lap. “Now, let’s take a look at that cut.”

Logan hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “While you’re doing that, I’ll take the kid into the kitchen and see if I can find him a cookie.”

Devin sent him a hard look. “Don’t give him more than one. If I bring him home on a sugar high, you and I both are going to have to answer to my wife.”

Logan had always considered his sister-in-law to be a reasonable woman, but he didn’t want to test her. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

After he entered the adjacent kitchen, Logan held Sean high above his head, eliciting a laugh from his nephew. “You’re getting heavy, bud,” he said as he brought him back down and set him on the counter. “I only have a chocolate-chip cookie, so I hope that’s okay.”

Sean answered with the single word, cookie, and a wide grin, indicating Logan was definitely speaking his language.

When he opened the cabinet, withdrew the cookie from the package and handed it to Sean, the kid squealed. One thing about it, toddlers could be easy to please, unlike several of the women Logan had known. One in particular. He wasn’t sure why he kept thinking about his former fiancée tonight. The answer to that was sitting in the next room, undergoing an exam by his brother. But aside from Helena’s and Jenna’s similar backgrounds, he recognized several differences between the two, at least when it came to the physical aspects. Then again, he didn’t plan to explore those differences. Once Devin was done doing his doctor thing, Logan would have Ms. Fordyce back at the family mansion in record time.

Sean finished the last bite of cookie and held out his hand, palm up, and wiggled his fingers. “More.”

“Not a good idea, bud.” Logan looked around for another form of entertainment and selected a wooden spoon sticking out from the jar holding utensils he rarely used. “How about practicing your batting swing with this? Just don’t hit me.”

Sean decided the spoon worked better as a drumstick and began pounding the cabinet without the least semblance of rhythm, spewing words that made little sense. But as long as it kept him happy, then that made Logan happy.

Remaining close to his nephew to prevent him from taking a spill, Logan leaned back against the counter and glanced at the pass-through opening that offered a view of the living room. Devin had taped up the cut with thin white strips and right then he was shining a penlight in her eyes. Logan could tell they were discussing something, but he couldn’t make out a word with Sean now pounding the metal canisters.

A few minutes later, his nephew grew tired of playing musician and insisted on being held. Logan scooped him up into his arms where Sean rested his cheek on his shoulder. At least Devin could go home and tell Stacy that Uncle Logan had succeeded in wearing the kid out by giving him a spoon.

A few minutes later, Devin walked into the kitchen, sporting a somber expression. “I don’t think she has a serious head injury, but someone needs to watch her tonight, in case she does have a slight concussion.”

And that proved to be a major problem. “No one’s at her house,” Logan said. “If you’re that worried, maybe she should be admitted to the hospital.”

“And maybe you should let her stay in your guest room.”

That wasn’t in accordance with Logan’s plan. “Not a good idea.”

Devin frowned. “I’ve never known you to refuse a good-looking woman in distress.”

“A drunk, good-looking woman who happens to be the kid of a billionaire client, and he sure as hell wouldn’t appreciate me spending the night with his daughter.”

Devin scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck and studied the floor. “She’s not drunk, Logan. She’s going blind.”

Chapter Two

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.

Chapter Three

“What are you doing?”

At the sound of Logan’s distinct and somewhat gruff voice, Jenna turned and leaned back against the kitchen counter. “I was going to make you breakfast to repay you for rescuing me last night. But I’ve never been much of a cook, even before I lost my sight.” She felt behind her for the carton of milk and held it up. “Can I interest you in cold cereal?”

“No thanks.”

Jenna detected a hint of irritation in his tone. “Is something wrong?”

“When I didn’t find you on the couch after I took my shower, I was worried.”

She appreciated his concern, even if it wasn’t warranted. “You don’t have any reason to worry.” She touched the edge of the bandage covering her wound. “My head’s a little sore, but I’m fine.”

Jenna calculated Logan’s approach through the sound of his footsteps, and knew he moved beside her when she caught the trace scent of fresh soap. “As soon as you get dressed, we can leave,” he said.

She ran a fast hand down the T-shirt he’d loaned her last night. “This is comfortable. Think I’ll just wear it home. I’ll have it laundered and back to you next week.” Better still, she could deliver it in person.

Not a banner idea. She had no cause to pursue a relationship with a man at this point in her life.

“It looks good on you,” he said. “But if you keep it, then you’ll have to explain to your father where the shirt came from. And that would lead to telling him you spent the night with me and, in turn, I’ll lose his business.”

Always seeing things through a business lens, just like her father. “He’s not due home until late afternoon, so don’t concern yourself with getting caught. Which reminds me. What time is it now?”

“Almost ten.”

“I can’t believe I slept so late.” But then, she hadn’t slept all that well last night knowing Logan had been only a few paces away.

“And that’s why we need to get a move on,” he said. “Before Avery finds out you’ve been gone all night.”

Jenna wouldn’t be surprised if her dad had already called home only to connect to the voice mail. “My personal life isn’t my father’s business, and what happened last night doesn’t qualify as questionable. I slept on your couch, and you kept watch over me from a chair.”

“I still plan to have you home well before he arrives.” He caught her hand and wrapped it firmly in his. “Come on. I’ll help you get dressed.”

Plainly, he was more than ready to be rid of her. “I can dress myself, thank you.”

“I’ll hang around, anyway, to make sure you’re okay.”

“Suit yourself.”

Jenna allowed Logan to guide her into the bathroom where she took care of her morning ritual while he played watchdog outside the door. She managed to slide the blouse over her head, but when she attempted to close the skirt’s back zipper, it wouldn’t budge. At times like these, she wished she had a closet full of shapeless shifts and elastic waistbands, or the return of her sight.

Only one option existed at the moment—swallowing her pride. “I need some help, Logan.”

The door creaked open. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing serious,” she said, keeping her back to him. “Just a malfunctioning zipper. And if you’re like most guys, you’ve had a lot of practice with women’s zippers.”

“I’m better at lowering them, but I’ll give it a shot.”

Though his voice held a touch of amusement, Jenna couldn’t quite shake the sudden images his comment evoked as he moved behind her. “If you can’t fix it, then I guess I’ll have to wear your shirt home, after all.”

“I can handle it.” Bracing his hand on her hips, he tugged her toward him and went to work.

After only a single attempt, Jenna felt the zipper dislodge, followed by Logan saying, “You’re all set.”

She turned to thank him, swayed forward and in order to right herself, landed her hands on a wide expanse of powerhouse bare chest. “You’re not wearing a shirt.” A brilliant observation on her part.

He clasped her waist. “You have my shirt.”

Clearly, her brain’s command center didn’t feel the need to remove her hands. “If that’s the only shirt you own, you need to ask my father for more money.”

“I own several shirts. I just haven’t put one on, yet.”

She’d found that out the pleasant way. “I see. Or maybe it’s because I don’t see. You could be naked, and I’d never know.”

“I’m not naked.” He shifted closer. “I’m wearing a smile.”

Without thought, her hands drifted down his firm sides until she contacted a denim waistband. “Very funny. You really had me fooled for a minute.”

“Anything else you need from me?”

She could think of several things, most of which wouldn’t be wise. Interesting, yes. Prudent, no. Reluctantly, she dropped her arms to her sides. “I should probably go home now. I need to take a shower.”

“I have a shower, and I’d be glad to help.”

How simple it would be to take him up on the offer. How very easy to forget why she couldn’t acknowledge this overriding chemistry between them. “Believe me, I’ve showered by myself before. Every morning, in fact.”

“Fine, but if you decide on the way home that you’d like my assistance, just let me know.”

“Do you know where you’re going, Logan?”

Straight into a ditch if he didn’t keep his eyes on the road and off of her. “I’ve been to your place before.”

“Really? When was that?”

He glanced at Jenna to find her frowning. “About two years ago, when I first contracted with your dad. He invited me to a dinner party.”

“Apparently, I wasn’t in attendance at that little soiree.”

“No, you weren’t there.” Without a doubt, he would’ve remembered if she had been.

“I must have been busy, otherwise I’m sure I would have been playing the perfect hostess to my father’s perfect corporate crusader.” Her sarcasm was unmistakable.

“You don’t sound like you enjoy that scene,” he said.

“Not really, but I view it as a favor to my father.”

Logan could relate to family loyalty. “What else do you do in your spare time these days, aside from being a hostess?”

“I listen to audio books, mostly nonfiction, although I do enjoy a good legal thriller now and then. I’ve been learning Braille and several foreign languages, and when Calvin’s not carting me to doctor’s appointments, he drives me to the library twice a week where I tell stories to preschoolers.”

He wasn’t all that surprised by the revelation, although he was impressed. “I could tell you like being around kids when I saw you with my nephew.”

“Yes, I do.” She sighed. “They don’t pass judgment or patronize me. Basically they view me as a storyteller who happens to be blind, not the other way around.”

He sensed that was important to her—being treated like an average person. As far as Logan was concerned, Jenna Fordyce was anything but average.

“What do you do when you’re not working?” she asked.

“I go to sporting events when I have some spare time. And on Sunday, I have lunch with the family.” Although, he’d missed those gatherings several times over the past few months, something that didn’t sit well with his mother.

“That means you’re going to be late to your lunch because of me,” she said.

“It’s not going to matter if I’m late.” He would receive more grief from his sister for not jumping back into the dating loop, and from his brothers who claimed he’d lost his touch with women. Come to think of it, he could remedy that harassment—at least, temporarily—with one suggestion. “Since Avery won’t be back until later, you should come with me. The food’s simple, but the company’s good.”

When she didn’t immediately respond, Logan glanced in her direction to find her deep in thought. “Well?” he asked.

“I should stay home in case he arrives early.” She sent him an apologetic smile. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll have to pass.”

Logan couldn’t explain his disappointment, nor did he want to acknowledge it. But he did feel it. “Not a problem.”

The conversation waned for the next few miles until Logan approached the estate—a house that looked as if it could hold five families. “We’re at the entrance,” he said as they pulled into the drive.

Jenna rummaged through her purse and withdrew a remote control, pointed it straight ahead and sent the security gate in motion.

Logan drove through the entry and immediately noticed a man with silver hair dressed in a black business suit, standing on the front porch. The last man he wanted to see at the moment.

Slowing the vehicle to a crawl, he asked, “How well do you and your dad get along?”

She rubbed her forehead, like the question had given her a major headache. “As long as he doesn’t try to tell me what to do, we get along fine. He’s very overprotective, the consummate doting father. But I love him with all my heart and appreciate all he’s done for me since my mother’s death. I probably don’t tell him that enough.”

“Well, now’s your chance.”

She turned her head toward him, a confused look on her face. “I don’t understand.”

Maybe not, but she would. And whether Avery Fordyce would understand why his only daughter had been out all night, still remained to be seen. “Looks like your father caught an earlier flight.” And right then Avery looked as if he could fly off the porch and put someone in a choke hold.

Jenna tipped her head back against the seat and muttered, “Great,” while Logan navigated the circular drive. After stopping underneath the portico, he said, “Let me handle this.”

“No. I’ll handle it.”

Logan had barely left the Hummer and reached the passenger side before Jenna had the door open, one leg dangling out of the vehicle.

After he guided her up the steps, he started to launch into an explanation but lost the opportunity when Avery asked, “Where in God’s name have you been, Jenna?”

“She’s been with me,” Logan said, although Avery didn’t look too pleased by the disclosure.

Jenna reached out to find her father’s arm, leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “I went out for Candice’s birthday and I had a little mishap.” She touched the bandage on her forehead. “Logan was kind enough to have his brother, Devin, who happens to be a doctor, take a look at the cut. He fixed me up with a few little strips to hold it together, Logan loaned me his sofa for the night, end of story.”

Avery scowled. “That’s not the end of the story. Candice called Sasha this morning, and Sasha, in turn, called me. They were both worried sick because you didn’t come home and you didn’t bother to call.”

Jenna lifted her chin in defiance. “I’ll explain everything to Candice later, and I told Sasha to take the weekend off.”

“My employees are loyal, Jenna.” Avery directed a hard look at Logan. “They do as I ask, and I asked her to watch out for you.”

“I’m thirty years old, Dad. I don’t need a keeper.”

“Apparently, you do, daughter.”

Logan opted to intervene before all out warfare began between parent and child. “Jenna spending the night at my place was all my idea, Avery. She wanted to come home, but I wouldn’t let her.”

“And this is supposed to satisfy me?” He topped off the comment with an acid glare.

At this rate, he’d find himself minus an important client. “Devin and I decided she shouldn’t be alone, in case she showed signs of a concussion.”

“Which I didn’t,” Jenna added. “Now, let’s go inside and let Logan get on with his business.”

“Yes, let’s go inside,” Avery said. “You still have a lot of explaining to do.”

Logan witnessed a spark of anger in Jenna’s expression. “We can talk later, Dad. I have to have a shower so I can be ready when Logan takes me to his parents’ for lunch. What time should I expect you, Logan?”

He couldn’t determine who was more shocked—him or Fordyce. “Are you sure you want to go?”

She sent him a bright smile. “Of course. The very accommodating Sasha can look after Dad this afternoon while I’m with you.”

Logan recognized pure and simple rebellion, and that he was stuck in the middle of a family battle. He could rescind the offer and insult Jenna, putting himself back in Avery’s good graces. Or he could possibly piss off one of his biggest financial benefactors and spend the afternoon with that benfactor’s daughter.

He glanced at the sullen Avery before turning his attention to Jenna, who had one of the greatest smiles he’d ever seen on a woman. Business versus pleasure. He chose pleasure. “I’ll be back in about an hour.”

Without waiting for Avery’s response, Logan sprinted to the Hummer and drove off, wondering all the way home what in the hell he was doing.

“Do you know what you’re doing, Jenna?”

Although she couldn’t see her father’s expression, she’d heard the disapproval in his tone. “I’m going to get ready to have lunch with Logan.”

As she continued down the hall toward her bedroom, her father moved in front of her, halting her progress. “What do you really know about him?”

The classic fatherly lecture. Despite her limited eyesight, she should have seen it coming. “I know that you trust him. I also know he was very kind to me last night and a perfect gentleman, if that’s your concern.”

“He’s a ladies’ man. He’s not the kind to settle for only one woman, especially a…”

His words trailed off, but his message came through loud and clear. “A woman like me, Dad? Isn’t that what you meant to say?”

“You’re special, Jenna.”

“I’m going blind, Dad. My eyesight might be bad, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a man’s company. Even a ‘ladies’ man.’ And this is only a casual lunch between friends. Logan didn’t want me to be alone since I assumed Sasha wouldn’t be here, and you wouldn’t be home until much later.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt, sweetheart.”

His gentle tone helped ease her resentment. “I’ll only get hurt if I let him hurt me, and I won’t. Besides, I’m not looking for anything permanent. You should know that by now.”

“Yes, I know. Your divorce from David proved that. I wish the two of you would have tried a little harder.”

“Don’t, Dad. We’re not having that discussion again.” They’d worn out that territory three years ago.

“I can’t talk you out of going to this lunch? We could have a nice afternoon together.”

She reached out to pat his cheek. “We can have a nice evening together. You can tell me all about Chicago, and I can tell you how to inquire about the bathroom in Italian and French.”

“You’re still determined to take that European trip.”

“Only after I have the transplants.” If she ever had the transplants. “I’d also like to wait until John David’s a little older so he can appreciate the culture.”

“Have you told Logan about him?”

“The opportunity hasn’t arisen yet.” She planned to take the opportunity before day’s end. “As I’ve said, this is only a one-time event, not a prospective-daddy interview. J.D. already has a father.”

“Again, I don’t want you to—”

“Get hurt. I know, Dad.” She drew him into a long embrace. “And I appreciate your concern. But you don’t have to worry. I’m a big girl now.”

“I know, Jenna, but I still worry about you. I’ve worried about you since the day you came into our lives.”

“And if I’d been able to handpick my parents, I couldn’t have chosen any better than you and Mother.” Even if she’d often wondered that if they’d known her vision would eventually fail, would they have adopted her?

“And we couldn’t have been more blessed to have you,” he said, dispelling her doubts, and that earned him another hug.

“I love you, Dad,” she said. “And please stop worrying. I can manage Logan O’Brien.”

At one time, Logan had been able to manage Avery Fordyce by praising his business acumen, yielding to his demands and leading him to believe he had complete control. But that was before he’d met the man’s daughter.

Under normal circumstances, Logan would have expected to be greeted by a member of the household staff. Nothing about this situation remotely resembled normal, the reason why he wasn’t surprised when Avery answered the door with a curt, “Come in.”

Logan followed Avery inside the house, hoping to discover Jenna waiting nearby so they could get the hell out of there. But the expansive foyer was deserted, with the exception of a few pieces of pricey artwork and Fordyce, who turned and said, “I don’t like this, O’Brien.”

Logan didn’t have to ask what Avery didn’t like. “It’s only lunch.”

“So you say. Just remember, Jenna means everything to me, son. She’s an exceptional young woman. Fragile in many ways. If you mess with her feelings, you mess with mine. Understood?”

Avery’s meaning couldn’t be clearer if he’d carved it into stone—or into Logan’s flesh. Still, Logan had a hard time believing Jenna was as fragile as her father had claimed. But if he screwed up with Avery’s only child, he’d be out in the cold when it came to future contracts. “Understood.”

“Now that you know what I expect, you may wait for Jenna in the study.” He pointed to his right before pivoting around like a drill sergeant and heading down the lengthy hall.

Logan wandered into the room Avery had indicated, expecting to find a collection of books stacked on rows of shelves, maybe even an office setup. Instead, the area held a grouping of casual rattan furniture and plenty of pictures, but not the kind displayed in a trendy gallery. Portraits depicting a dark-haired boy spanned the length of the room. One showed a sleeping newborn lying on a blue blanket; another featured a toothless, smiling infant on his belly in a field of wildflowers, and beside that, a toddler dressed in a red baseball uniform with a miniature wooden bat.

Even if he didn’t know the kid’s identity, Logan suspected he was someone special. Possibly a member of the extended family—or immediate family.

“His name is John David.”

He turned at the sound of the familiar voice to discover Jenna standing in the open doorway wearing a pale yellow, sleeveless dress, her dark hair secured atop her head. The sunshades covering her eyes and the white cane in her hand were the only indications she was anything but a healthy, beautiful woman. In fact, she looked so damn good, for a moment Logan had trouble responding to her comment. “Who took all these pictures?”

“I did. I used to own a small photography studio in northwest Houston before my eyes started giving me grief. I consider these portraits some of my best work.”

That explained the quality of the photos, even if it didn’t explain Jenna’s relationship to the child, although Logan had his suspicions. “You must have really liked this particular subject.”

“More than you know.” She crossed the room, removed a framed photo from a table before returning and offering it for his inspection. “This one’s my favorite.”

Logan studied the picture of Jenna turned profile to the boy, their foreheads touching. The perfect depiction of a woman’s fondness for a child. Or maybe a mother’s love for her son. Then again, he could be mistaken since she hadn’t mentioned having a child, nor had her father in the years he’d known him. But when he turned his attention from the photo to Jenna and saw the moisture dampening her cheeks, Logan sensed he was on the right track. And affirmation came when she said, “He’s my son.”

She raised the glasses and swept a fast hand beneath her eyes before replacing the shades again. “I’m sorry. It’s very difficult to talk about him without my emotions going haywire.”

Although he was tempted to ask exactly what had happened to the boy, Logan decided not to pressure Jenna for more information than she was willing or able to give. Instead, he said the only thing he could think to say. “He looks like you.”

She gave him a tentative smile. “He definitely inherited my brown eyes, but his hair is lighter, like his dad’s. Or it was the last time I could see it.”

“How long ago was that?”

“He’s three and a half now, so that would have been about a year ago, right before my vision took a severe turn for the worse. He went to live with his father not long after that. We share joint custody.”

At least Jenna hadn’t suffered a traumatic loss of her child, although Logan couldn’t imagine how she’d tolerated a year without him. “When will he be back with you?”

She clutched the frame to her breasts, as if she were holding her absent son. “As soon as I have the corneal transplants. Since he’s so active, I thought it best he stay with his dad a little longer than the usual six months. But it’s been difficult since he’s so far away.”

“How far?”

“In Tennessee, outside of Memphis. I do talk to him every night, though.”

A sorry substitute for physical contact. “I’m surprised Avery never mentioned him to me.” Most grandfathers Logan had known doted over the grandchildren, including his own father.

“It’s not that Dad doesn’t love J.D.,” she said. “In fact, he adores him. But he’s never accepted the fact that J.D.’s father and I divorced.”

Logan could see how that wouldn’t go over well with a traditionalist like Avery Fordyce. Or his own parents, who’d had a hard time with his sister’s divorce. “How long were you together?”

“I’d known him four years, and we’d been living together for three when I found out I was pregnant. We married five weeks later. Right after J.D. turned six months old, we realized it wasn’t going to work. But David’s a good father, and that’s all that matters.”

From the sadness in Jenna’s tone, Logan gathered that maybe the divorce hadn’t been her idea. He wanted to ask if she’d loved this David and if the guy had treated her well. If he’d accepted her blindness, or if that had been the reason for the split. “I guess marrying for the sake of a child isn’t always a good thing.” And he’d almost found himself caught in that trap.

She shook her head. “No, it’s not. Particularly if two people are less than compatible, something we should have realized in three years. But sometimes you get stuck in a comfort zone with no desire to leave. Unfortunately, accidents happen, although I wouldn’t change anything as far as my son’s concerned.”

Uncomfortable with the course of the conversation, Logan decided to turn the topic to their plans for the day. “Are you ready to go now?”

“Do you still want me to go?”

“Yeah. Any reason why I wouldn’t?”

“I could think of several reasons why you might reconsider. Introducing a blind, divorcée with a child to your parents, for one.”

“My parents aren’t judgmental, Jenna.” In fact, they would probably fall in love with her after five minutes in her company—and immediately start jumping to conclusions.

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