“Just ‘don’t’? That’s all I get? What the hell, Mike? You’ve been at war with Dad for years and you won’t say why.” Sean braced both hands on the edge of the desk. “If you know something I should, then tell me.”
Mike studied his brother for a long minute. During that short period of time, his brain raced through the familiar scenarios he knew he would be facing over dinner. Strained conversations, his mother trying to be overly bright and happy, his father sending Mike covert glances. It wouldn’t be pleasant. Wouldn’t be easy. But he would play the game for his mother’s sake.
As far as his little brother went, though, there was just no reason for Sean to have to battle the same emotions that Mike did when the family was together. “Sean, believe me, you don’t want to know. So just let it go, all right?”
For a second or two, Sean looked as though he’d argue, but finally, he nodded and stood up. “Fine. But try to remember. I might be your younger brother...but I’m not a kid you need to protect.”
Maybe not, Mike thought, but there was no reason to shatter his illusions, either.
A few hours later, Jenny jolted out of the movie she was watching when someone knocked at her door. Wearing her flannel sleep pants and a white tank, she was curled up on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and a glass of wine. Not working. Trying not to think. Just immersing herself in a few harmless explosions on the television.
She wasn’t expecting anyone, so naturally, her very excellent imagination conjured up images of roving pirates, rabid serial killers or maybe even an escapee from a mental institution, all crowded together on her tiny front porch.
She wasn’t the nervous Nellie type, but when she was alone at night, she often thought about getting a dog. A big one. But for now, she got up, looked out the curtains and sighed, both relieved and annoyed.
Mike.
At least he wasn’t a marauder, but why did he have to show up when she looked hideous? No makeup, her hair a messy tumble of curls and wearing her Star Wars flannels? And what did it matter? she asked herself. He’d made it clear he wasn’t interested, so let him see the real her...flannel jammies and all.
She opened the door and looked up at him.
“You don’t ask who it is before you open a door?” he demanded, blue eyes flashing.
“Wow. Hello to you, too.”
“Come on, Jenny. You’re a woman living alone. Be smart.”
“I looked out the window and saw you.”
“Oh, that’s all right, then.”
“Thanks very much.” One hand on the open door, one on the jamb, she asked, “What are you doing here, Mike?”
“Honestly,” he said, “I don’t know. Just had dinner with the family at my folks’ house and didn’t want to go home yet. I drove around for a while and ended up here.”
Fascinating.
He wore a black jacket over a white shirt, open at the collar, with black jeans and boots that looked as if they’d seen a lot of miles. His hair had been ruffled by the wind and his eyes looked...empty. His features were tight, his shoulders tense, and Jenny thought he was on the verge of leaving. She didn’t want him to.
“Do you want a glass of wine?” she asked.
His gaze fixed on hers. “That’d be good. Thanks.”
Polite, but distant. That, plus a little outright suspicion, she was used to. Tonight, though, there was a sadness about him that she’d never seen before and Jenny felt a flicker of worry she knew he wouldn’t appreciate.
He stepped inside, and she closed and locked the door behind him.
“You were at your parents’ house, you said. Are they okay? Sean?”
He looked at her. “Yeah. They’re all fine.”
She tipped her head to one side and studied him. “You’re not.”
He laughed shortly and scraped one hand along his jaw. “I don’t like being read that easily, but no, I guess not.”
It was the first time she could ever remember seeing Mike Ryan vulnerable in any way. Normally he was so in charge, so much the stalwart head of a billion-dollar company, that seeing his features strained and closed off was unsettling. She’d rather have him raging at her than see him looking so lost.
“I shouldn’t have come here—” he said abruptly.
But he had, Jenny told herself. For whatever reason, he’d been upset and he’d come to her. That had to mean something, didn’t it? “Stay. Take off your jacket. Sit down. Have a glass of wine, Mike.”
It took a moment or two, but he finally nodded and said, “Okay, thanks.”
He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it across the back of a chair, then looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. It wasn’t his first visit, though. He’d been here before. The night they’d— Whoops. Probably not a good idea to think about that right now.