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Jenna found the phone, answered it, and immediately wished she hadn’t because it was her mother. ‘Hi, Mum.’ Oh, no, she absolutely didn’t want to have this conversation with Ryan McKinley listening. Why, oh, why had she given her this number? ‘No, everything is fine—’ All her newfound tranquillity faded as her mother’s cold disapproval trickled down the line like liquid nitrogen, freezing everything in its path. ‘No, the doctors here don’t care that I’m divorced.’ She lowered her voice and turned away from the kitchen, hoping Ryan couldn’t hear her above the hum of the kettle. ‘No, the patients don’t care, either—’ She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to think of Mrs Parker. ‘And I’m not trying to ruin Lexi’s life—it’s kind of you to offer, but I don’t think living with you would have been the best thing, Mum. I need to do this on my own—no, I’m not being stubborn—’
The conversation went the way it always went, with her mother stirring up every unpleasant emotion she could. Reminding herself to get caller ID, so that she could speak to her mother only when she was feeling really strong, Jenna gripped the phone. ‘Yes, I know you’re very disappointed with the way things have turned out—I’m not whispering—’
By the time the conversation ended her throat was clogged and her eyes stung. Whatever magic the cottage had created had been undone. The knot was back in her stomach.
All she wanted was moral support. Was that really too much to ask from a mother?
Knowing that she wasn’t capable of going back into the kitchen without making a fool of herself, Jenna stood for a moment in the hallway, still holding the phone to her ear. It was only when it was gently removed from her hand that she realised Ryan was standing next to her.
He replaced the receiver in the cradle and curved his hand over her shoulder, his touch firm. ‘Are you all right?’
Jenna nodded vigorously, not trusting herself to speak. But the feel of his hand sent a warm glow through her body. It had been so long since anyone had touched her. She’d been divorced for months, and even during her marriage there hadn’t been that much touching. Clive had never been tactile. More often than not he’d had dinner with clients or colleagues, which had meant she was in bed and asleep long before him. Even when they had made it to bed at the same time he’d been perfunctory, fumbling, as if making love to her had been another task on his ‘to do’ list and not something to be prolonged.
She was willing to bet that Ryan McKinley had
never fumbled in his life.
His broad shoulders were there, right next to her, and Jenna had a powerful urge to just lean against him for a moment and see if some of his strength could be transferred to her by touch alone.
They stepped back from each other at exactly the same time, as if each had come to the same conclusion.
Not this. Not now.
‘I found the coffee.’ His voice was rough. ‘We need scissors or a knife to open this.’
Blinking rapidly to clear the tears misting her eyes, Jenna saw that he was holding a packet of fresh coffee in his free hand. ‘Great.’ Appalled to realise how close she’d come to making a fool of herself, she took the coffee from his hand and walked back into the kitchen. Keeping her back to him, she opened the drawers one by one until she found a knife.
He followed her. ‘Does a conversation with your mother always upset you like this?’
‘How do you know it was my mother?’
‘I heard you say, “Hi, Mum”.’
‘Oh.’ If he’d heard that, then he’d heard everything—which meant that there was no point in trying to keep the messy details of her life a secret. Jenna stared down at the knives in the drawer. ‘Stupid, isn’t it? I’m thirty-three. She shouldn’t have an effect on me, but she does. She has a talent for tapping into my deep-seated fears—exposing thoughts I’m having but would never admit even to myself.’ She closed her fingers around the handle of a knife. ‘She thinks I’ve made the wrong decision, coming here.’
‘And what do you think?’
‘I don’t know any more.’ The tears were back in her eyes, blurring her vision. ‘I thought I was doing the right thing. But now I’m worrying that what’s right for me might be wrong for Lexi. I’ve uprooted her. I’ve dragged her away from everything familiar. We had to leave our home, but I didn’t have to come this far away—’ Taking the knife from the drawer, Jenna turned, wishing she hadn’t said so much. ‘Sorry. You wanted a cup of coffee, not a confessional. My call has held you up. If you want to change your mind and get on with your day, I quite understand.’
It was mortifying, having your life exposed in front of a stranger.
‘I’m not leaving until I’ve had my coffee. I’m not safe to drive.’ He leaned against the granite work surface, thumbs hooked in his pockets. ‘Why did you have to move?’
‘I’m divorced.’ There seemed no point in not being honest. Why keep it a secret?
It had happened. There was no going back. She had to get used to it.
The problem was that once people knew you were divorced, they inevitably wanted to know why.
Jenna stared at the coffee in her hand, trying not to think about the girl with the long legs and the blond hair who had been lying on her husband’s desk having crazy, abandoned sex. When had she ever had crazy, abandoned sex? When had she ever lost control? Been overwhelmed—?
‘Careful! You’re going to cut yourself—’ A frown on his face, Ryan removed the knife from her hand. ‘In fact you have cut yourself. Obviously this isn’t a conversation to have while you’re holding a sharp object. Let me look at that for you.’
Jenna watched as blood poured down her finger. ‘Oh!’
Ryan took her hand and held it under the tap, cleaned it and then examined the cut. ‘We need to find a plaster. Call me traditional, but I prefer milk in my coffee.’ He was cool and calm, but Jenna was thoroughly embarrassed, and she tugged her hand away from his, dried it in a towel and applied pressure.
‘Stupid of me. I don’t know what I was thinking.’
