* * *
“Now Adam kisses me good-night,” Billie demanded royally.He leaned forward and obliged.
“Enough,” Jane said.“No more kissing or conversation.Go to sleep.You’re exhausted.”
Billie yawned suddenly, then rolled onto her side.“Okay.G’night.”
Adam hovered by the bed, as if he didn’t want to leave her just yet.Jane waited by the door.Billie sighed, then her eyes fluttered closed.He leaned over and kissed her again, then joined Jane.They shut the door behind them and walked toward the stairs.
“All that energy,” he said.“It’s hard to believe she’s actually going to sleep.”
“I know.But as tired as she is, she’ll be out in about twenty seconds.”
They reached the hallway and stopped.Jane bit her lower lip.She should send Adam on his way.That was the sensible thing to do.They were both emotionally at the end of their ropes and needed the time to regroup.But to be honest—and selfish—she didn’t want to be alone.Not yet.
“Would you like some coffee?”she asked, not daring to look at him.
He didn’t answer at first.Slowly she raised her gaze to his.Confusion, acceptance and pain swirled in the brown depths.“You have anything stronger?”he asked.
“Brandy?”
“Perfect.”
“I’ll meet you in the parlor.”
Chapter Twelve
Jane found the box of brandy her parents had given her last Christmas and opened the package.After collecting glasses, she turned off the kitchen lights and made her way to the front of the house.
The storm from the previous evening had passed, leaving clear skies and slightly lower temperatures.Even so, the South Carolina summer night swirled around her, bringing with it the scents and sounds that were uniquely home.Night jasmine, her mother’s favorite, filled the air with its sweetly sensual fragrance.As she entered the parlor, she saw Adam standing by the front window.As at his house, shutters protected them from prying eyes.He’d pulled them back and opened the windows, but hadn’t turned on any lights.A streetlamp provided slight illumination, as did the light in the downstairs hall.Enough to see the size and shape of him, but not his expression when he turned to look at her.
“Can you open this for me?”she asked, her voice a little softer than normal.
He took the bottle.“Are you sure you want to?Are you saving it for a special occasion?”
“I can’t imagine anything more special than you finding out about Billie.”
Even though he would be as unable to see her face as she was to see his, she turned away, embarrassed at exposing herself to him.She couldn’t let herself forget that he was still angry and had the potential to wound.
But all he said was “Thank you.”He tore off the protective covering and opened the bottle.She held out the glasses and he poured them each a half inch of the dark liquid.
“To Billie,” she said, raising her glass.
“To Billie,” he answered.But instead of drinking, he stared at her.She would have sold her soul for the courage to turn on a light and see the look in his eyes.
Uneasily she took a sip of the brandy, wincing as it burned a path down to her stomach.But in a few seconds the fiery heat became pleasant and she felt her tension begin to ease.
“Would you like to sit down?”she asked.
Without answering, he walked to the long sofa opposite the window and sat.Not on the edge, but not in the middle, either.She chose the opposite spot on the same couch.They didn’t touch, but they could.If they wanted to.
Don’t!she ordered herself.It was the night that made her foolish.Or the man.But it wasn’t anything real.
The furniture loomed large in the semidarkness.She picked out the shape of the armoire she had carted with her across the country because of all the memories it contained.Two wingback chairs sat under the big window.In front of the sofa stood a coffee table.She leaned forward and set down her drink.
“Not a brandy drinker?”Adam asked.
“No.”
