A Better Man(31)

On second thought, Jordan wasn't pretty. He was manly and gorgeous. With his dark, wavy hair casually pushed off his forehead, those thick almost black brows lowered over a pair of striking blue eyes, and at least two days of beard scruff on his chiseled jaw, he looked intense, powerful, and passionate.

He played a violent game for a living, one that drew thousands to pump their fists in the air when blood was drawn. She'd seen a few of his games on TV and she'd been astonished at the level of brutality. Knowing what he was capable of and the way those intense blue eyes looked at her now, she should feel threatened. At the very least, tense.

Incredibly, she felt something very different.

On a weird, illogical, purely core level, Jordan made her feel . . . safe.

The idea almost made her laugh out loud.

"I'll make some tea," she said, breaking the spell. "Then you can fill me in on your 'something really important.' "

"I'm not really a tea kind of guy." He followed her into the kitchen.

Tail wagging, Ziggy brought up the rear, completely demolishing his part of the whole I'll-­protect-­you-­and-­you-­protect-­me deal.

"In that case"-­she reached into the cupboard for her jar of green tea-­"I guess you can say whatever you have to say and then be on your way."

"On second thought . . ." He sat down at her antique whitewashed table and Ziggy lay at his feet with a groan. "Tea sounds great."

"You don't seem very sure."

"I'm totally onboard. I . . . Ummm." He waved a hand in front of his face. "I think your dog just-­"

"Oh. Yes. He does that." Lucy held back a laugh. "A lot."

"You probably buy a lot of air freshener."

"As a matter of fact I do." The conversation was odd and it did nothing to alleviate the awareness wrapped around her spine like a boa constrictor.

He pointed to the bench on the opposite side of the table. "Is that a church pew?"

"It is. I found it at a flea market in Oregon last summer."

While she put the kettle on the stove and dropped the teabags into mugs, he studied her kitchen from a chair that seemed two sizes too small.

"A chandelier of Mason jars. A vintage hotel sign. And cupboards filled with milk glass. You sure like old and white stuff."

"I'm fond of the simplicity."

"I'll say. Is there something specific that prompts that?"

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "Usually when someone cuts clutter from their lives there's a reason behind it."

Yikes. Nail on the head. "So I can't just like clean and simple?"

"You can like anything you want. You've made a really nice home here. Maybe all this white just makes me think of the trips I've taken to an ER to stitch something up or put it back in place."



       
         
       
        

The idea turned her stomach. "I'm sure you get injured a lot in your job."

"More than I'd like."

"Judging by your tone I'm guessing it's not the injuries themselves that you're opposed to so much as losing the battle."

"I definitely don't like to lose."

The wistfulness in his voice made her wonder if for him, losing the battle could also mean losing loved ones.

There was nothing harder to see than a gladiator brought to his knees by something he couldn't control. Sympathy unexpectedly tugged at her heart. Before she got too buried in it, like a saving grace, the teakettle whistled. She pulled it from the burner, poured the hot liquid into mugs, and set one in front of him.

"I like sugar."

"I'm sure in your line of business you can use all the sweetening you can get." She handed him the sugar bowl, then she sat on the church pew and set her mug on the white linen placemat in front of her. "So, Mr. Kincade, tell me . . . exactly what is your 'something really important.' "

"Ah, ah, ah. Private moment, Lucy." He dropped two spoonfuls of sugar into his mug, and stirred. "Aren't you supposed to call me Jordan?"

She smiled. "Aren't you supposed to quench my curiosity?"

"Cagey." He grinned. "I like that."

"Don't get used to it. Spill."

"Something came up tonight."

"And it couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

"Sometimes things can't wait." A frown crinkled the smooth skin between his eyes as he sipped the hot tea. "The one thing I've learned in the past couple of weeks is that nothing can wait. If something needs to be said, now is better than later. You never know when your time is up. And if I'm going to help Nicki get past this trouble she's going through, it has to be now. No one ever knows if they'll get another tomorrow."