all. And to that end, he’d decided it was time they met. That had been the purpose of having the Realtor take him out to her farm yesterday, when he’d known that she would be there because he’d overheard Meg tell Logan that she and Jenna would be packing up the household.
That hadn’t been the first time he’d seen her, though.
When he stayed at the compound he used a small studio apartment above the detached garage behind the main house. From that vantage point, he’d had an occasional sighting of Jenna Bowen over the months when Meg had provided babysitting for Abby, and Jenna had come to drop off or pick up the baby.
No, they hadn’t had the opportunity to meet—that just hadn’t worked out until yesterday. But it had given him the chance to do some preliminary study of Meg’s best friend.
Jenna Bowen was a small-town beauty, he thought as he drove out of Northbridge to get to the farm and the picture of her popped into his head.
Actually, she could hold her own with most big-city beauties, too, he’d decided when he’d finally had his first close-up view of her at her house on Saturday.
No, she wasn’t high-fashion-model material, like Chelsea Tanner—the woman his father was itching for him to marry. But Jenna Bowen was definitely no slouch in the looks department.
Hers wasn’t an aloof, cutting-edge sort of beauty, the way Chelsea’s was. Instead there was a warmth, a sweetness to Jenna Bowen’s appearance. A naturalness. Something that had made it difficult for him to ultimately take his eyes off of …
She had skin like peaches and cream—flawless, smooth and so soft-looking he’d had the urge to reach out and run the backs of his fingers along one cheek to see if it could possibly feel the way it appeared.
Her hair was long and wavy, a glistening brown. In his isolated glimpses of her, he’d seen it pulled back, he’d seen it tied up, he’d seen it the way he liked it best—falling full and free around her face to at least four inches below her shoulders, like a shining, vibrant cascade of cocoa.
And her eyes …
Ah, her eyes …
Those distant sightings had kept him in the dark about her eyes but on yesterday’s visit to the farm he’d finally been able to see them for himself. To see her long, thick lashes dusting eyes that were a similar brown to her hair except that they weren’t completely brown.
No, her eyes had some green in them—a glimmering green, like secret, hidden emeralds—making them interesting, intriguing, stunning.
Her nose was thin and not terribly long. She had petal-pink lips, perfect white teeth and high, apple-bright cheeks that gave her some of that country appeal, too.
Her neck was long and a little thin, and she had such perfect posture that it made her fairly short stature—five three or four, maybe—seem like more.
And the body that went with it all?
Compact but still curvaceous enough to have had him wondering how she would look without clothes …
Not that he had any business doing that!
Work, the training facility, Chelsea Tanner and getting Tanner Brewery to sponsor the Monarchs—that was what he was supposed to be focused on now, he reminded himself as he neared the Bowen farm. Chelsea Tanner, whom his father would be thrilled to have him hook up with. Chelsea Tanner, whom his father believed would be a great match for him and for the future connection between the Montana Monarchs and Chelsea Tanner’s father’s brewery dollars.
The trouble was, Chelsea Tanner just didn’t do it for him. They’d met at the huge party his father had thrown when Morgan had been granted the NFL franchise. They’d hit it off. But merely as friends. The fact that it could be a match made in business heaven? That was all his father could see. But for Ian? A beautiful face, long legs and a shared interest in Jazz weren’t enough.
In his mind’s eye, the image of Jenna Bowen was edging out that of the supermodel….
But he was getting the shove from Chelsea’s father, too.
Chelsea’s father wanted Ian to lure Chelsea back from one of her many photo shoots in Europe in the hopes that she might be interested in becoming the spokesmodel for Tanner Brewery in order to add a little class. And to keep his daughter closer to home.
Ian was working on convincing Chelsea to come home and become the face of Tanner Brewery. But beyond that? Sharing their jazz playlists was the only other thing he was interested in. The only thing Chelsea was interested in with him, too.
Ian turned off the main road onto the path that led to the Bowen property’s boundary.
Hardly a road, it was pitted and bumpy. It was difficult to decide which of the tractor-tire ruts he should stick to. It was definitely more rustic than the paved drive, with its white rail fence on either side, that led to the house. But he wanted a view of the place from one of its edges so he could look out over the whole seventeen acres and get a clear picture in his mind about the best layout for the center. So, the dirt road it was.
He didn’t go any farther than he had to, however, before he pulled to a stop.
Then, with the engine still running, he put the car into park, grabbed the binoculars he’d brought with him for this purpose and got out.
No doubt about it—this was the perfect location for the training facility, he thought, as he looked out over the property through the binoculars. Flat farmland, wide, open space except for the small barn and the house that would be leveled in favor of the administrative building that would be the entrance to the center.
But when Jenna emerged from the back door carrying baby Abby, it was the existing house that held his interest.
Ian had the impression that Jenna was taking advantage of the weather, too. She didn’t seem to have any real reason to be outside, and she was clearly dressed for work, since she was wearing dark purple scrubs. But still, she carried Abby into the yard and pointed to a bird sitting on a post of the paddock fence as she said something to the infant.
Abby was a sweet baby. And as cute as they came, with her honey-blond, curly cap of hair, her chubby cheeks and her big, brown eyes.
And Jenna was her aunt-slash-new-mom….
Ian recalled how Meg had introduced her friend, and it didn’t make sense to him. He had just assumed that Abby was Jenna’s daughter, plain and simple. But that didn’t seem to be the case. As he watched the two now, he didn’t see anything that would indicate that Jenna wasn’t Abby’s mother, however.
Abby was yet another reason he needed not to go off on flights of fancy over Jenna Bowen. He liked Abby, but he was at least ten years from wanting kids in his own life. And when that happened, they had to be his biological kids.
That was his sticking point.
Just as he was thinking that—and still watching Jenna and Abby through the binoculars—he saw Jenna lightly kiss Abby’s cheek.
Then, as if the gesture hadn’t been done right, Abby grabbed both sides of Jenna’s face in her two pudgy little hands and gave her a return kiss that had a whole lot more oomph to it.
The
