didn’t say anything for long moments, then cleared his throat. “When I was eleven, we moved from the Midwest out here to California. I’d been in elementary school and started here in my first year of middle school. My parents thought I’d be fine—all the kids my age were in a new school, so we were all in the same boat.”
“But you were in a different boat altogether,” she guessed.
“I was,” he acknowledged ruefully. “The kids I used to be friends with had helped out on their parents’ farms after school, like we did. The kids in the new school had no responsibilities and were obsessed with labels and other status symbols.”
Her heart broke a little for that boy who was a complete fish out of water, but she tried to keep the sympathy from her voice, knowing he wouldn’t want it. “It sounds like you would have had culture shock.”
“Perhaps I did.” He added more masking tape further along the edge and went back to painting. “Then the flower farm started doing well, and our parents moved the three of us to prestigious private schools.”
She grimaced, imaging what was to come. “Which was worse.”
“Absolutely,” he said on a humorless laugh. “Full of rich kids who were spoiled brats. Bragging and exaggerating were normal parts of conversations, and they were always playing power games. Everything came with a price. Nothing was as it seemed.”
She’d met kids like that when she was young—they’d say they wanted to be her friend, but it was all about her title, not the person she was. “Self-centered and not afraid who knew it.”
“That’s about it.” His voice wasn’t bitter or accusing, simply matter-of-fact. “For a country boy, it was all so foreign. My brothers and I were unfashionably family-oriented.”
“Yet, now you’re probably richer than many of them,” she said, knowing she was pointing out the obvious.
“There’s a difference between self-made wealth and inherited wealth. People who are born to wealth and privilege are a different species.”
Her heart clenched and sank. “And those born to wealth and privilege are a species you have no time for,” she clarified, but his tone had been clear enough.
“It’s a culture of one-upmanship. It’s dishonest.”
If he knew the truth about her, she’d only reinforce his theory—she had been born to wealth and privilege and her life now—even her own name—was a lie. And it mattered. For some reason Liam Hawke’s opinion of her mattered way more than it should. A tight band seemed to clamp around her chest, making it difficult to draw in breath.
“You know,” she said, putting down her roller, “it’s quite late. I’ll finish this tomorrow. Thanks for your help.”
She heard a muffled groan and turned. He stretched up into standing and rubbed a hand over his eyes. If he knew she was another one of the people who lied to him, there would be disgust in his gaze. Disgust at her. How would she be able to stand that? She looked back to the roller tray.
“Jenna,” he said softly.
Even knowing what he’d think of her if he knew the truth, she couldn’t help turning back to him when he said her name.
“I shouldn’t have laid all that on you. I’m sorry.” He reached a hand out to rest on her shoulder. “It’s my crap, not yours and now I’ve made you uncomfortable.”
His nearness made her pulse race, and her shoulder tingled where his hand rested. The contrast between that excitement and the heaviness in her chest about her deception was almost too much to bear.
“No, you didn’t say anything wrong. I’m just tired. Probably too many paint fumes.”
“Here, I’ll help you clean up,” he said, turning and picking up the brushes.
Five more minutes this close to him was out of the question. She had to get some space or risk losing control, pushing him against that wall and kissing him with all the crazy, confused desire inside her. Or she might even break down and confess the secret she’d been keeping. Then he’d see her as the same as all the other people who’d lied to him. Either option was unthinkable.
She pasted on a fake smile that she knew didn’t reach her eyes.
“It will only take me a minute. Really,” she said, with as much conviction as she could muster. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
For a long moment, he didn’t move, just watched her with a frown line crossing his forehead. Then he nodded slowly. “Tomorrow.” And he walked out the door.
The afternoon sun streamed through the window of Bonnie’s nursery, silhouetting Jenna as she painted the final touches on the newly white window frame.
She hadn’t heard him, so for a moment Liam took the opportunity to watch her work, to appreciate the sheer beauty of this woman who’d so suddenly become a part of his life. A woman who made the world a little brighter wherever she was.
He must have made a sound because she started and turned. “Oh, it’s you,” she said in her musical accent.
“Just me.” He stepped into the room. “No babies?”
She rested her brush on the side of the paint tin and rose to stretch. “Bonnie’s asleep and Katherine has taken Meg for a walk.”
“Katherine?” he asked, incredulous.
Jenna shrugged one shoulder, causing the pale blue cotton of her T-shirt to stretch across her breasts. “She offered. She said she could see I wanted to finish the painting, but I think she and Meg have developed a certain devotion to each other.”
In the eight years Katherine had worked for either him or his parents in this house, he’d never seen her display devotion to anything other than her job. “Wonders will never cease,” he said and considered whether he’d been underestimating his housekeeper.
“Don’t be too surprised,” Jenna said with a lopsided grin. “She still doesn’t particularly like me.”
He laughed as much for Jenna’s self-deprecation as for the humor in the situation. “Then the universe still makes sense.”
She picked up a rag and wiped her hands. “If you’re just dropping in to see Bonnie, I can—”
“No,” he said, interrupting her. “I’m home for the day.”
Her eyes were wide when they met his. “At four o’clock?”
He dug his hands into his pockets and nodded. He’d given this a lot of thought during the day and had made a decision. “You were right last night. I’ve been seeing this from the wrong angle. Bonnie needs her father around. It’s time I made that happen.”
Jenna’s blue eyes glistened, then she blinked and smiled. “She’s a lucky little girl.”
The pureness
