Part 7 (2/2)

Conceited jerk. Ana worked off her temper with mortar and pestle. It was very satisfying to grind something-even if it was only some innocent herbs-into a powder. Imagine. Imagine him having the idea that she was- on the make, she decided, sneering. As if she'd found him irresistible. As if she'd been pining away behind some gla.s.s wall waiting for her prince to come. So that she could snare him.

The gall of the man.

At least she'd had the satisfaction of thumbing her nose at him. And if closing a door in anyone's face was out of character for her, well, it had felt wonderful at the time.

So wonderful, in fact, that she wouldn't mind doing it again.

It was a d.a.m.n shame he was so talented. And it couldn't be denied that he was a wonderful father. They were traits she couldn't help but admire.

There was no denying he was attractive, magnetically s.e.xual, with just a dash of shyness tossed in for sweetness, along with the wild tang of untamed male.

And those eyes, those incredible eyes that just about stopped your breath when they focused on you.

Ana scowled and tightened her grip on the pestle. Not that she was interested in any of that.

There might have been a moment in the kitchen, when he was stroking her flesh so gently and his voice blocked out all other sound, that she found herself drawn to him.

All right, aroused by him, she admitted. It wasn't a crime.

But he'd certainly shut that switch off quickly enough, and that was fine by her.

Beginning this instant, and from now on, she would think of him only as Jessica's father. She would be aloof if it killed her, friendly only to the point where it eased her relations.h.i.+p with the child.

She enjoyed having Jessie in her life, and she wasn't about to sacrifice that pleasure because of a basic and very well justified dislike of Jessie's father.

”Hi!”

There was that pixie face peeping through Ana's screen door. Even the dregs of temper were difficult to hold on to when she was faced with those big smiling eyes.

Ana set the mortar and pestle aside and smiled back. She supposed she had to be grateful that Boone hadn't let the altercation that afternoon influence him to keep Jessie away.

”Well, it looks like you survived your first day of school. Did school survive you?”

”Uh-huh. My teacher's name is Mrs. Farrell. She has gray hair and big feet, but she's nice, too. And I met Marcie and Tod and Lydia and Frankie, and lots of others. In the morning we-”

”Whoa.” With a laugh, Ana held up both hands. ”Maybe you should come in and sit down before you give me the day's events.”

”I can't open the door, 'cause my hands are full.”

”Oh.” Ana obligingly pushed open the screen. ”What have you got there?”

”Presents.” On a huff of breath, Jessie dropped a package on the table.

Then she held up a large crayon drawing. ”We got to draw pictures today, and I made two. One for Daddy and one for you.”

”For me?” Touched, Ana accepted the colorful drawing on the thick beige paper that brought back some of her own school memories. ”It's beautiful, suns.h.i.+ne.”

”See, this is you.” Jessie pointed out a figure with yellow hair. ”And Quigley.” Here a childish, but undeniably clever, depiction of a cat.

”And all the flowers. The roses and the daisies and the lark things.”

<script>