“How long have you had problems with your vision?”
Longer than she cared to recall. “I was diagnosed with a form of corneal dystrophy when I was in my early teens. At first, it wasn’t too bad, aside from the eye infections, but I’ve always known it would continue to progress.”
“Exactly how much can you see?”
“Not much. It’s a little like looking through shattered, cloudy glass. Everything’s distorted. I can see shapes, but no real details. Or I can when I’m not wearing sunglasses.”
He reached up and pulled the shades away, something Jenna preferred he hadn’t done. Since Devin had dimmed the lights earlier, she wasn’t too concerned over her photosensitivity. She was worried about how her eyes would appear to him.
“Can you see me better now?” he asked.
“I can tell you’re sitting in front of me, but that’s about it.”
“And there’s not one damn procedure in this day and time that will help you?”
He sounded as frustrated as Jenna often felt, and she found that remarkable, coming from a man she’d just met. “A corneal transplant is the only cure.”
“And that involves finding a donor,” he said.
“Yes. I’ve been waiting over a year. Of course, if it were up to my father, he’d try to buy a set of corneas. Or at the very least, wield his influence to have me moved up on the list.”
“But you won’t let him.”
She shook her head. “That wouldn’t be fair. I’ve spent a good deal of my life as a sighted person when there are people waiting who’ve never had that advantage. Some are even children. They should be first in line.”
“That’s an admirable attitude.”
She shifted slightly. “Before you start thinking I’m ready for sainthood, you have to understand that having a transplant isn’t something I take lightly. Sometimes it scares me to think about it. But I’m willing to wait.” Wait for someone to die in order to see, a fact Jenna tried not to dwell on. If she had only herself to consider, she would accept her limitations and forget the procedure. She’d use her cane all the time and consider finding a guide dog. But she had a three-and-a-half-year-old son counting on her, even if several hundred miles had separated them for the past few months.
“If you have the transplant, your vision will be restored completely?” Logan asked.
“That’s what I’m hoping.” Although, she would also be facing possible tissue rejection and the chance that the disease could return in a few years’ time following the transplant.
“That’s got to be tough. I can’t imagine not being able to see.”
“I’ve learned to compensate by thinking about what I’ll do when I can see again.” Being able to care for her child was top priority. “In the meantime, I have to rely on developing mental portraits using other senses. I’ll demonstrate, if you’ll let me touch you.”
“Oh, yeah?” She could hear the smile in his voice.
Jenna released a shaky laugh when she realized how suggestive that sounded. “I meant, I want to touch your face to get a better idea of what you look like, if that’s okay.”
“What if you’re disappointed?”
She shrugged. “Honestly, I’ve learned that true character has nothing to do with physical attractiveness. I just like to have a frame of reference.”
“Then, go ahead,” he said. “Touch away.”
Jenna was a little unnerved by the provocative quality of his voice, but not enough to discourage her. “My depth perception is nonexistent, so you’re going to have to help me. I’ll start with your hair and work my way down.”
When she held out her hands and closed her eyes, he placed her hands on either side of his temples. She feathered her fingertips through his hair—a nice, thick head of hair. “You’re definitely not going bald.”
“Not that I’ve noticed.”
“What color is your hair?” she asked.
“Black.”
He had the “tall” and “dark” down, and the time had come to verify the “handsome.” Jenna began by outlining his forehead with her fingertips before brushing her thumbs over his brows. “What about your eyes?”
“They’re blue.”
Her artistic nature took over. “Sky-blue? Aqua-blue? Cobalt?”
“I’ve never thought about it before. I guess, sky-blue.” He sounded somewhat self-conscious, and Jenna found that endearing coming from such a macho guy.
“Most people take the details for granted,” she said, though she never had. “That’s quite a striking contrast, black hair and light-blue eyes.”
“My mother’s half Armenian, and my father’s Irish. I’m a mix of both.”
“Interesting.” And so was his nose that she now examined. When she contacted a slight indentation on the right side of the bridge, she asked, “What happened here?”
“I jumped out of an airplane and landed on my face.”
“Seriously?” she asked around her shock.
He released a low, sexy laugh. “I got hit by a pitch when I was up to bat during a high-school baseball game. I thought the skydiving thing sounded more interesting.”
She wasn’t surprised he’d been a jock, but she was taken aback by his sudden show of humor. She wasn’t surprised by the strength of his jaw, covered by whiskers that lightly abraded her palms, but the creases along his cheeks threw her a bit. “You have dimples.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
She smiled. “Unfortunately? Women love dimples. It gives a man a boyish quality.”
“If you say so,” he said with extreme skepticism.
While she traced his full lips with a fingertip, Jenna put all the finer points together, creating a mental sculpture that probably wouldn’t do justice to the real thing. But she’d discerned enough to know that he was definitely attractive.
And absolutely masculine, she realized when she ran her fingers over his prominent Adam’s apple and down his corded neck that ended beneath stretchy knit. “You’re wearing a T-shirt.” She dropped her hands to his thighs. “And jeans.” She found his foot with her own foot and gave it a nudge. “Boots, but not the cowboy kind. Hiking boots. You’re an outdoorsman. Do you like to hike?”
“Yeah. Hiking and camping. But with the job, I haven’t been in a few years.”
Her mind wandered back to a better time, a better place, when she’d still had her sight. “I used to hike quite a bit when I was younger.”
“How
