doesn’t consent to handing Meg over. She’ll back down.”
Jenna wasn’t so sure. “Leeann had three miscarriages early on. I can’t see her simply handing over what she wants more than anything.” She glared straight ahead. “All the better if she thought it hurt me.”
He swung open the building’s pedestrian gate and ushered her through. “Leeann can be a possessive and spiteful woman.”
Curious, she stepped under the bridge of his arm into the neat sandstone courtyard. “I didn’t realize you knew her that well.”
“I know enough.”
Possessive…spiteful. Could he really help her get custody of Meg from Leeann? Jenna knew where her niece belonged, and not purely because she was kin. She’d never liked or trusted Leeann. Her skin crawled to think of Amy’s daughter growing up with a woman who’d reminded her of a prickly, well-dressed praying mantis. She wondered how her father had ever fallen in love with such a woman when her mother had been so sweet and giving—so much like Amy.
They stopped before the building intercom. He gazed down at her, one imperious eyebrow raised. “You ready?”
“No,” she replied. “Are you?”
He grinned, slow and sexy. “I’m looking forward to it.”
While he buzzed, Jenna wrung her purse and told herself to breathe, just breathe. It didn’t help. Would all this subterfuge blow up in her face? Could this hurt her chances with Meg rather than help?
Perhaps she needed more time to think it over.
“Maybe we should have called,” she reasoned, “to let her know we were coming.”
“No. We should let her enjoy the surprise.”
Like the way he’d surprised her yesterday, by showing up unannounced then suggesting they get married? Gage had let her know that he had no intention of finishing what they’d started all those years ago: he didn’t plan to seduce her. A big part of her—the pride-filled part—rejoiced. She’d been a fragile teenager when he’d left her love for him high and dry; she hadn’t thought she would ever recover.
Yet a more reckless side remembered the feel of his hard, hot chest, the way his shadowed jaw had grazed a delicious path along her skin. What would it be like to enjoy the penetrating pleasure of his kiss again? Would it feel different now that they were older?
The intercom clicked and Leeann’s voice purred out. “I’m busy. Come back later.”
Gage leant closer. “Mrs. Darley, this is Gage Cameron. I’m with Jenna. May we come up? We won’t take more than a few minutes of your time.”
A torturous silence stretched out. Jenna imagined her stepmother’s mind spinning at the name from the past, connecting it with “multimillionaire” then wondering why the heck he was troubling her almost two weeks after her husband’s death.
The intercom snapped again. “I really am stretched for time.”
Jenna set her teeth. She was so over Leeann’s lady-of-the-house routine. She’d been over it years ago. Today, for her niece’s sake, she wouldn’t tolerate it.
She spoke directly at the grill. “We’ve come to see Meg.”
Large hands on Jenna’s shoulders tugged her back. Gage’s slight frown said, I’ll handle this. “Mrs. Darley, I’m on a tight schedule, too. We would appreciate a few moments.”
Jenna had all but given up when the door buzzed, and her high-strung nerves loosened a knot. Gage shouldered the jamb and swept Jenna inside the building. At the lift, he punched the up arrow.
Threading his hands before him, he gazed at the light passing down the floors—so cool—while she felt ready to dissolve like a sandcastle smashed by a succession of waves. But this morning, whenever her mind had funneled down into grief-stricken thoughts over losing her father and sister, she’d ordered herself to think only of Meg. More resolute than ever, she did that now.
Beside her, Gage rocked back on his heels. “Why did you cut your hair?”
His question threw her. She looked over at his classically chiseled profile—the straight nose and firm jaw angled up as he watched the lift light blink down.
“I’m sorry,” she stammered, “what did you just say?”
He looked at her, the same way he had yesterday—evaluating, wondering. Dangerous and sultry. “When I left, your hair was a thick wavy river down your back.”
What on earth?
Gathering herself, she forced her eyes away from his and dead ahead. “Most places I stay don’t have dryers. It was difficult to manage.”
“It was beautiful.”
The breath caught in her chest. Was he doing this deliberately—putting her off-guard, now of all times? Or was he setting the mood for their performance in front of Leeann? Either explanation made her less than comfortable. In fact, it made her highly uncomfortable.
She blew a wave off her damp forehead and concentrated on the cold metallic doors. “My hair isn’t important.”
“I liked when you wore it out, wild and tangled.”
“It’s much easier tame and shorter.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him appraise her, from crown to toe, before he peered back at the lift light. “You should let it grow.”
Heat consumed her cheeks. Feeling herself being towed away, Jenna briefly closed her eyes and tried to tamp down images of him curled over her, his hands in her hair—long, short…what did it matter? Making love with Gage would be ecstasy any way it came.
The lift doors whirred open. They stepped inside and traveled to the top floor in simmering silence. The space seemed way too small to accommodate her, him and the electric charge humming between them.
When the lift stopped, she strode out a step ahead then had to tell her heart to quit thumping all over again. Leeann was parked in the doorway of what had been, only a handful of days before, her father’s apartment.
Jenna had always disliked the beauty mark that sat on the steeple of Leeann’s left eyebrow. She detested it more now as that eyebrow lifted along with her stepmother’s intrigued smile.
Leeann spoke to Gage. “Well, you’ve grown up.”
“In every way that counts.” Gage linked an arm around Jenna’s waist and moved them both forward.
Jenna was normally a patient person, but she didn’t want to waste time on pleasantries now. As they crossed the threshold onto white Italian marble surrounded by sumptuous furnishings, as politely as she could, she came right to the point.
“Where’s Meg?”
After closing the door, Leeann led them into the living room that boasted a panoramic view of the glistening blue harbour and majestic giant shells of Sydney’s Opera House. Her father’s portrait hung on the far wall and the
