that was another matter. She couldn’t just leave him that way.
“Oh, bother!” she said, giving up on her self-imposed rule to keep Adam out of her house. “Come along, then.”
Grasping Fabio’s halter, she started off down the street. Behind her, she heard the man and the boy following. She could tell that Adam had swung Jeremy up into his arms and was carrying him. That mollified her somewhat. In fact, she was just a bit chagrined that she’d accused him of hurting his son. She would have to be careful about jumping to false conclusions in the future.
Future, her mind was screaming, trying to get her attention. What future? But she ignored it and hurried on.
“Where are we going?” Adam asked.
She held her head high. If it must be done, t’were best done quickly—and bravely, she told herself.
“To my house,” she said aloud.
“What? You live near here?”
“Just around the corner, actually.”
“Oh. Well, that’s handy.”
They turned the corner and Adam nodded to himself. This was just the sort of neighborhood he could picture her living in—quaint and traditional, yet neat and tidy and very well maintained. A sort of old-fashioned storybook lane. It fit.
What amazed him was how confidently she stepped along the walkway. She did have the dog to lead her, but a dog couldn’t do it all and she moved as though she wouldn’t allow herself a hint of uncertainty. His lopsided grin appeared almost against his will. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to start admiring the woman for more than just her very provocative feminine appeal.
She turned in through a neat picket fence to a small white cottage that could have housed the Seven Dwarves. A brightly painted red door beckoned. Window-boxes spilling over with flowers and a small wishing well completed the picture.
Any moment, he thought, someone is going to start singing “Someday My Prince Will Come”, in the background.
And that thought almost made him laugh out loud. So he was doing prince jokes now.
But he sobered quickly. Every now and then he began to realize just what he was playing around with here. Much as he needed the funding to stave off the hostile takeover of his company, was he really willing to trade in his freedom for a crown? He was going to have to decide soon. He was rapidly working his way into a position where he wasn’t going to have any choice in the matter.
The inside of the cottage looked as carefully maintained as the outside. The furniture appeared to be antiques lovingly saved from centuries past. And as a centerpiece to the room, a beautiful piano gleamed in the light coming in from the high windows.
He put Jeremy, still sniffling a bit, on the couch while Elena went to a cupboard and found disinfectant and bandages. He watched her, trying to see how she knew where to stand and where to reach. So far he hadn’t caught her in a mistake, and that seemed remarkable.
She let him take care of the wound, which seemed to make sense, though he was clumsy at it. Jeremy whimpered a bit when he put on the disinfectant and she went to the piano and began playing him happy tunes to take his mind off it and lift his spirits.
Adam could tell right away that she played beautifully, with the sort of emotion that touched even hardened hearts like his. Jeremy was intrigued, and once he was bandaged up he wanted to go to the piano and sit beside Elena on the bench. She began teaching him a few simple notes and he was eager to try them.
Adam watched for awhile, impressed that she seemed to have a natural way with children—or with his child, at any rate. He’d watched others try to reach Jeremy—nannies and teachers—and bomb out, totally. In fact, he’d about come to the conclusion the kid was unreachable. But Elena treated him in a normal way and he seemed to like her for it. Maybe there was hope after all.
It wasn’t the way she acted, he decided after watching for a few more minutes. It was who she was that got through to the boy. They just had a spontaneous connection. Funny. He wished he knew a way to create that with his son himself.
He didn’t usually wallow in the pain of his failed relationships, but for just a moment he let regrets surface. Why was it that he couldn’t bond with his boy? Why had Melissa, Jeremy’s mother, found it impossible to stay and create a family with them? Why had his own mother spent most of his childhood flitting around the playgrounds of the world instead of being at home, raising him? Was there something in him that pushed all these people away?
He indulged in a short, very obscene oath under his breath to erase that kind of thinking. Life was what it was. You could take it or leave it. But there was no room for whining.
Pushing away from the wall where he’d been leaning, he left the room to go outside and try his cell phone again. It was his only lifeline to his precious company— the one part of his life that had worked out beautifully. He had to save his company from the takeover. After years as a golden boy in the business, he was facing a sort of failure, and suddenly no one was returning his calls. If something didn’t happen fast—as in funds becoming available for quick use—it was going to be all over. That was why this delay in settling the crown succession thing was so frustrating. Retaining control of his company meant retaining his sense of identity. The head of Ryder Productions was who he was and what made him special. If he lost that—no, it didn’t bear thinking of.
The phone still wasn’t working for him and he began to pace about the yard to let off steam. He quickly became curious about Elena’s property and what sort of trees she’d planted. The atmosphere was just as pleasant outside as in and, just wandering about, he began to relax. There was a small stone terrace with a table and two chairs under an umbrella and a bank of colorful flowers. A tiny house just steps away from the main building was outfitted with twin beds and a wardrobe. Evidently the building had once served as a garage, then been renovated. He stared at it, wondering who used it. Then he went back into the cottage to find Elena playing tunes from Peter and the Wolf and Jeremy dozing with his head in her lap.
He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching the tranquil scene. It seemed like a picture from another era, another place, as though he were looking through time, and maybe through the gauze of memory. A certain yearning crept into his heart as he stood there.
Very deliberately, he pushed it away. What did this have to do with the rat-race world he lived in today? Nothing. It was certainly a seductive destination, but it was an existence built in the clouds. It had no relationship to his reality and he knew it would be dangerous to grow too enamored of it.
She came to the end of her piece and he said, “It looks like you’ve got the magic touch where Jeremy is concerned.”
Her dark head lifted. “He seems to be asleep, doesn’t he?”
“That he does. Who knew he would respond so well to Prokofiev?” he said.
“Ah, you know your composers,” she said, as though that delighted her.
He hated to burst her bubble, but he didn’t want to pretend to a sophistication he just didn’t have.
“Not really. I know the music to Peter and the Wolf because I just produced a series for an educational channel that did a treatment of it. The puppet version.”
“Oh.”
