Part 7 (1/2)
Uncomfortable, he tucked his hands in his pockets. He was already certain he'd taken a wrong turn, and he was wondering if he could find a suitable way to backtrack. ”It isn't often grown women read fairy tales for pleasure.”
”What a pity. Though you hardly deserve the praise, I'll tell you that your work is lyrical and valuable, on both a child's and an adult's level.”
Far from mollified, she shoved two of the books back into place. ”Then again, perhaps such things are in my blood. I was very often lulled to sleep by one of my aunt's stories. Bryna Donovan,” she said, and had the pleasure of seeing his eyes widen. ”I imagine you've heard of her.”
Thoroughly chastised, Boone let out a long breath. ”Your aunt.” He flicked his gaze over the shelf and saw several of Bryna's stories of magic and enchanted lands alongside his. ”We've actually corresponded a few times. I've admired her work for years.”
”So have I. And when Jessie mentioned that her father wrote stories about fairy princesses and dragons, I concluded the Sawyer next door was Boone Sawyer. Grilling a six-year-old wasn't necessary.”
”I'm sorry.” No, actually, he was much more embarra.s.sed than sorry, but that would have to do. ”I had an- uncomfortable experience not long before we moved, and it's made me overly sensitive.” He picked up a small, fluidly sculpted statue of an enchantress, turning it in his fingers as he spoke. ”Jessie's kindergarten teacher- she pumped all sorts of information out of the kid. Which isn't too hard, really, since Jessie's pump's always primed.”
He set the statue down again, all the more embarra.s.sed that he felt this obligation to explain. ”But she manipulated Jessie's feelings, her natural need for a mother figure, gave her all sorts of extra attention, requested several conferences to discuss Jessie's unusual potential, even going so far as to arrange a one-on-one with me over dinner where she- Suffice it to say she was more interested in an unattached male with a nice portfolio than she was in Jessie's feelings or her welfare. Jessie was very hurt by it.”
Ana tapped a finger on the edge of one of his books before replacing it.
”I imagine it was a difficult experience for both of you. But let me a.s.sure you, I'm not in the market for a husband. And, if I were, I wouldn't resort to manipulations and maneuvers. I'm afraid happy-ever- after has been too well indoctrinated in me for that.”
”I'm sorry. After I get those feet out of my mouth, I'll try to come up with a better apology.”
The way she lifted her brow told him he wasn't out of the woods yet. ”I think the fact that we understand each other will do. Now I'm sure you want to get back to work, and so do I.”
She walked past him into a tiled foyer and opened the front door. ”Tell Jessie to be sure to drop by and let me know how she likes school.”
Here's your hat, what's your hurry, Boone thought as he stepped out. ”I will. Take care of those scratches,” he added, but she was already closing the door in his face.
CHAPTER 3
Good going, Sawyer. Shaking his head, Boone sat down in front of his word processor. First his dog knocks her down in her own yard, then our blundering hero barges into her house uninvited to play with her legs. To cap it, he insults her integrity and insinuates that she's using his daughter to try to trap him.
All in one fun-filled afternoon, he thought in disgust. It was a wonder she hadn't pitched him bodily out of her house rather than simply slamming the door in his face.
And why had he acted so stupidly? Past experience, true. But that wasn't the root of it, and he knew it.
Hormones, he decided with a half laugh. The kind of raging hormones better suited to a teenager than a grown man.
He'd looked up at her face in that sun-washed kitchen, feeling her skin warm under his hand, smelling that serenely seductive scent she exuded, and he'd wanted. He'd craved. For one blinding moment, he'd imagined with perfect clarity what it would be like to drag her off that curvy little chair, to feel that quick jerk-shudder of reaction as he devoured that incredibly soft-looking mouth.
That instant edge of desire had been so sharp, he'd needed to believe there was some outside force, some ploy or plot or plan to jumble his system so thoroughly.
Safest course, he realized with a sigh. Blame her.
Of course, he might have been able to dismiss the whole thing if it hadn't been for the fact that at that moment he'd looked up into her eyes and seen the same dreamy hunger he was feeling. And he'd felt the power, the mystery, the t.i.tanic s.e.xuality, of a woman on the point of yielding.
His imagination had a great deal of punch, he knew. But what he'd seen, what he'd felt, had been utterly real.
For a moment, for just a moment, the tensions and needs had had that room humming like a harp string. Then he'd pulled back-as he should. A man had no business seducing his neighbor in her kitchen.
Now he'd very likely destroyed any chance of getting to know her better-just when he'd realized he very much wanted to get to know Miss Anastasia Donovan.
Pulling out a cigarette, Boone ran his fingers over it while he thought through various methods of redemption. When the light dawned, it was so simple he laughed out loud. If he'd been looking for a way into the fair maiden's heart-which he wasn't, exactly-it couldn't have been more perfect.
Pleased with himself, he settled down to work until it was time to pick up Jessie at school.