closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall. No one could help her. No one could even comprehend what she was feeling at this moment. Even she didn’t understand. Because in spite of her fear, in spite of her questions and her doubts, one small part of her heart still rejoiced.
Pierce was alive!
The miracle she’d prayed for for so long had finally happened. She should be down on her knees giving thanks, except for one small detail. Jessica had given up believing in miracles a long time ago. Resolutely she opened her eyes and started toward the stairs, halting when she noticed the powder-room door off the foyer stood open.
“Pierce?” There was no answer, but still she crossed the hardwood floor and entered the small washroom, assuring herself that everything was intact. And then her eyes fastened on the mirror, saw her reflection, and she knew. Pierce wasn’t in there, but he had been. He’d gazed into that same mirror, saw his reflection, and he’d learned the awful truth about himself.
Jessica backed out of the bathroom, frantic now to find him.
“Pierce!” She called his name as she stood in the hallway. Colored light filtered through the leaded diamond panes in the front door and spilled onto the polished planks of the floor. The wavering, jewellike shadows drew Jessica’s gaze downward, then toward the source. The front door was closed, but the dead bolt had been drawn back, and now it was Jessica who had to face the truth.
Pierce Kincaid had walked out on her one more time.
Chapter Two
A little while later, Jessica sat on the window seat in the dining room and watched the street for her brother’s car. How long had it been since she’d cried? she wondered. Not since Max had been born. Not since she’d decided that never again would she depend on anyone but herself. Not since she’d vowed that she would never love again because everyone she’d ever loved had left her.
Except Max.
She drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them, hugging them close. It was an instinctive response to her pain and confusion. For the first few days in every foster home she’d ever been assigned to, Jessica had similarly retreated into herself, had hugged herself tightly as though recalling the feel of her mother’s arms around her. Finally, though, after so many homes she’d lost count, she could no longer remember her mother’s face, much less the warmth of her arms.
The orphanage had been better because at least there she’d had Jay. The two of them had clung to each other those first few months after their older sister, Janet, had left them there. Their mother had died, their father had disappeared, and eighteen-year-old Janet hadn’t wanted to be saddled with two kids, so one cold December morning, she’d dropped Jessica and Jay at the state-run orphanage in Richmond.
After a year, twelve-year-old Jay had gotten lucky. He’d been adopted by an aging couple in Washington, D.C., who had always wanted a son and realized they were too old to begin raising an infant.
Jessica hadn’t been so fortunate. She’d been plain and skinny with unruly hair and eyes far too big and too sad for her ten-year-old face. She’d been shy and sickly and had never developed much of a personality. No one had wanted such an unattractive child.
After Jay left, Jessica had been sent to one foster home after another. She’d bonded fairly well with the first couple, but when the man’s job had forced them to move out of state, Jessica had been emotionally ripped apart again. After that, she kept herself aloof, sustaining herself on sparse letters from her brother and on the even sparser memories of her mother.
And then, years later, she’d met Pierce. It was the summer she’d graduated business school and moved to Edgewood, a suburb of D.C., to be close to Jay. Jessica had always sworn it was fate that caused her to answer the ad Jay showed her in a neighborhood newspaper about a bookkeeping position at an antique store not far from her new address. Fate, and perhaps a touch of desperation. She didn’t expect the job to pay much, but she’d been making the rounds at employment agencies for weeks with no luck.
Pierce Kincaid, the proprietor of The Lost Attic, had taken one look at her frail body, her faded blue dress, her scuffed shoes, and hired her on the spot.
Pity, she’d accused him later.
Love at first sight, he’d countered.
Jessica still remembered the exact moment when she first laid eyes on him. His assistant was about to turn her away when Pierce walked out of his office and changed her life with one heart-stealing smile.
“I’m Pierce Kincaid,” he said, dismissing the assistant with a curt nod of his head. “Welcome to The Lost Attic. What can I do for you?”
Jessica’s first thought was that he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. He had longish dark hair that curled at the nape, and dark, penetrating eyes fringed with thick lashes. He was casually dressed in jeans, a white T-shirt and a gray sport coat, and as he leaned against the counter, he gave her another smile, one that managed to look both mysterious and openly inviting.
“I—I’ve come about the job,” Jessica stammered, her poise completely shattered by his attention.
“Wonderful. How soon would you be able to start?”
His enthusiasm caught her off guard. “Now. Immediately.”
“As in today?”
“Today? But I—”
“You said immediately,” he reminded her, a subtle gleam in his eyes. “I’m rarely here, you see, and I need someone I can depend on to handle things while I’m away. My previous bookkeeper up and quit without notice. Financial statements are due, tax payments are late, the bank is screaming about overdrafts, and I’m due in Copenhagen tomorrow morning. Frankly, I’m desperate. So can you start today, Ms….?”
“Greene. Jessica Greene. And yes I can,” she added quickly, before he could change his mind.
He grinned. “Great. Let me show you your office then.”
“But don’t you even want to see my résumé?” She’d worked so hard on it, had even splurged on a rental typewriter.
He shook his head. “I know a good thing when I see it.”
Nonplussed, Jessica gazed around the shop, admiring the treasures. “You have a wonderful store,” she murmured.
“Do you know anything about antiques?”
“No. But I know a lot about bookkeeping.”
He smiled, and Jessica felt a tingle all the way to her toes. “That’s fine. I tell you what, Jessica. You teach me enough bookkeeping so that I know my way around a ledger, and I’ll teach you everything I know about antiques. And then some. How does that sound?”
It sounded wonderful. Too good to be true, in fact. Within days, Jessica had settled into the routine of her new job. When she’d been working for Pierce for three months, true to his word, he began teaching her about antiques.
“This is a Lowell,” he’d say as he showed her an exquisite glass sculpture. “See the marking on the bottom? Lowells aren’t as famous as Steubens, of course, but
