On Second Thought(99)

Funny that I used to think he was unattractive.

“How are you doing with your ex-wife and that, um, situation?” I asked.

The eyebrow I could see lifted. “It’s...difficult.”

“You were very polite on the phone.”

“Yes. Laine is the mother of my children. It wouldn’t help them to have us be at each other’s throats.”

I couldn’t imagine Jonathan at anyone’s throat.

I could, however, imagine him heartbroken.

“Do you ever talk to your brother?”

“No.”

“That’s a tough one.”

“Yes.” He swirled the wine in his glass. “My father and brother and I were very close, and when my father had the stroke, it was devastating. I worked at the magazine at the time and took over my father’s job there, as well.” He paused. “You may have noticed that I’m not the best at...” The hand that wasn’t holding his wineglass flailed a little as he searched for the words.

“Expressing human emotion?” I offered.

“That. Yes.” The cat jumped up on his lap, and he began petting him, eliciting a silky purr. The cat narrowed his eyes at me. I narrowed mine back. “So. The magazine was struggling, and I was working long hours so we wouldn’t have to lay anyone off. My brother was grieving, my wife was lonely, I was emotionally unavailable, according to Laine. So they found comfort with each other. For the sake of the girls, I’m trying to be civilized.”

“It’s still shitty, Jon. You’re allowed to be mad.”

“Oh, I was. Believe me, I was.” There was that deep voice again, low and dangerous and kind of...hot. “No one calls me Jon, by the way.”

“Do you hate it?”

“No. But no one calls me that.”

“Except me.”

The lips quirked again. “Yes.”

Luciano jumped down and began licking his privates, which were publics if you were a cat. Jonathan nudged him away, and the cat left with an impressive yowl.

“How’s that woman you mentioned?” I asked. “Remember? In divorce group? You said there was someone you liked.”

“I’m quite sure I never said that.”

“Well, Carly said you said it. In a prior session.”

“So much for the group’s confidentiality clause.”

“You were on a date the night Eric dumped me. Was that the woman?”

“No. That was my cousin.”

“Oh. Well, according to rumor, there was a woman, and you liked her.” I pulled a throw pillow against my stomach. “Come on. It’s raining, we have wine, I’m Dr. Lovely’s stepdaughter. You can tell me. How is she?” I felt oddly jealous. But of course he’d be dating someone. Though a little clenched, I’d discovered that Jonathan was...well, a kind man. A good father. He had those eyes and that voice. “There was a woman, right?”

He glanced at me. “Yes.”

“And? How’s it going with her? What’s she like?”

“It’s...complicated.”

“Why?”

“She doesn’t know what she wants.”

“Oh, one of those.” So she was stringing him along, then, huh? Sounded like she needed a hearty slap.

“Have you made your move?” I asked.

“No.”

“Why?”

“I repeat—it’s complicated.”

“Why is it complicated? God, this is like pulling teeth! Can you put two sentences together, please?”

He turned his head to look straight ahead once more. These humans and their interactions. So maddening. “She just got out of a long-term relationship.”

“So? Maybe she needs a good bang to get over him. A little boom-boom-pow.”

Jonathan didn’t answer. Thunder rolled across the fields outside, but it was fainter now.

Then he turned those beautiful eyes to me. “Also, she works for me.”

I sat bolt upright. “Really? Who—Oh.”

Oh.

I felt hot. My whole body felt flushed and tight and tingly.

“I’m not quite sure she even likes me.” He shifted so he was facing me. “Though recently, she seems to like me a little more.”

My heart jerked in my chest. “Just to be clear,” I said, my voice husky, “we are talking about me, right?”

He closed his eyes for a second—why do I get the idiots?—then opened them. “Yes,” he said, his voice so deep it was just a rumble. He didn’t look away, and there it was, that glimmer of gold in his strange, beautiful eyes.

“I do like you,” I murmured. “But only when you smile.”

Very slowly, he obliged, one side of his mouth leading the way, a crooked, small smile, and God, he was just ridiculously appealing. My heart jackrabbitted in my chest, furiously pounding, and I was pretty sure I couldn’t feel my legs.

“Are you going to kiss me, or are you just going to sit there staring?” I asked.

He leaned forward, set his wineglass on the coffee table, took mine from my fingers and set it down next to his. His movements were slow and precise. He looked at me a beat or two (or seventeen, it seemed), then cupped my face, his long fingers sliding into my hair, and then he did kiss me.