Elizabeth Lane - The Tycoon and the Townie

No, Jeff realized, he couldn’t be so monstrous as to grab his daughter and walk out. He couldn’t do that to Ellen. He couldn’t do it to Kate—or to himself.

“I—uh—think we need to talk,” he muttered, suddenly aware that his clothes were dripping water onto her faded Persian rug.

“All right.” Her body relaxed but her eyes remained guarded. “Flannery, dear, I know you’re listening.”

The child materialized from the hallway.

“Take Ellen to your bedroom for a little while, okay? And make sure you get her into something dry.”

“Yes!” Flannery’s grin lit the room like a flash bulb. “Come on, Ellen!” she exclaimed, bounding over to the couch. “You can wear my purple sweats, and I’ll show you my sea glass collection!”

“Cool!” Ellen struggled off the sofa, clutching the afghan to her chest. “Can we take Mehitabel with us?”

“Sure.” Flannery scooped up the cat. The placid creature hung over her arm like a limp Salvador Dali watch as the little girls scampered down the hallway, leaving the two grown-ups alone.

“Uh—can I make you some hot tea?” Kate spoke almost too swiftly as she scrambled to fill the awkward silence.

“No, that’s all right.” Jeff’s gaze explored the room, taking in the lush, green jumble of houseplants, the seashells and driftwood, the varicolored cushions and worn, mismatched furniture, all of which blended, somehow, into an ambiance of cozy warmth. Outside, cold, gray rain lashed the roof and battered the windowpanes. Inside, the whole room seemed to glow.

“Well, we can sit down, at least,” she said, settling onto a low ottoman. The neck of her robe had fallen open to reveal the luminous curve of her throat. Her skin was delicately freckled, like tiny dots of cinnamon sprinkled on rich cream. Jeff battled the ridiculous urge to bend over and taste her.

“I—my clothes are pretty wet,” he muttered.

“Oh, sit down. You can’t do anything to that couch that hasn’t been done a hundred times before.”

Jeff moved the cushions aside and lowered himself onto the threadbare upholstery. “Sorry about that I drove over here, but before that, I was running along the beach like a wild man. I was afraid Ellen had tried to go back out to the rocks.”

“You must have been frantic.” Her aquamarine eyes were cautious.

“Out of my mind is more like it. Ellen’s never done anything like this before. If she hadn’t been here—”

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