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“You weren’t last week,” Bridget pointed out.
“That was a million billion years ago.”
Jonas laughed in a friendly way at the ridiculous statement, but it seemed to encourage the little girl’s contrariness. She pouted and Bridget felt a flash of annoyance.
“Molly, I don’t think you’ve fed the horses yet,” Bridget said pointedly.
“I’ll do it after dinner.”
“Do it now,” Bridget ordered with forced calm.
The small mouth was pressed tightly closed, rebellion gleaming briefly in Molly’s hazel eyes before she stalked to the door leading outside. She yanked it open, then glared over her shoulder.
“He’s ‘that man’ Grandma was talking about, isn’t he?” she said suddenly. Bridget didn’t want to meet Jonas’s eyes for a few embarrassed seconds, but she did when Molly ran out of the house without waiting for an answer.
“I know what your mother thinks of me,” Jonas said calmly.
“I wish Molly hadn’t overheard whatever was said. But there’s nothing I can do about it.” Bridget crossed her arms over her chest. “My mother has a knack for making a difficult situation worse.”
“That was then. This is now. Does it have to be difficult?” he asked stiffly. “The past can’t be changed.”
“I’m well aware of that,” she admitted. “And the last thing I want is for Molly to be hurt by what happened between you and me ten—no—eleven years ago.”
“Ten years, four months, and fourteen days ago,” he corrected her.
“Am I supposed to be impressed that you kept track?” Bridget said bitterly. She rubbed her arms with her hands, feeling suddenly cold despite the gentle warmth of the spring evening. “While you’re remembering everything so accurately, Jonas, don’t forget that you were the one to walk out on me. I haven’t forgotten that and I never will.”
“I haven’t either. And there are a few other things that both of us need to remember.”
Before Bridget could dodge him, Jonas was pulling her into his arms, overpowering her struggling resistance. The familiar pressure of his hard mouth covering hers evoked a storm of memories. Lightning flashed through her veins to kindle the banked fires of the passion they had shared.
Her lips parted willingly under the expert persuasion of his demanding kiss. Pleasure took over as she once again experienced the wild excitement of his embrace. The frightening explosion of her senses was more awesomely wonderful than she remembered. Every fiber of her being quivered in reaction to the hard, male contour of his body pressed roughly against hers.
She was lost to the emotional upheaval, at the mercy of the arousing caress of his hands intimately roaming over her curves. There was satisfaction in feeling him shudder with ultimate longing when he buried his face in the curve of her neck.
“This is what we both want. Ten years apart hasn’t made the feeling go away,” Jonas declared huskily. His hand rested along her throat, his thumb on her pulsing vein. “I can feel your heart racing the same as mine.”
Breathing shakily, Bridget slowly pushed herself away from him. Jonas didn’t try to stop her, certain now of his power over her. Her fingers raked through her hair, hesitating for a second at the back of her head in an effort to regain some of her equilibrium.
“I don’t deny that you can make me want you, Jonas,” she admitted, “but it’s strictly chemistry.”
“You don’t believe that.” He shook his head complacently, the flames of desire still smoldering in the gray-green depths of his eyes.
“I do,” Bridget insisted. “You walked out of my life ten years ago and you aren’t going to walk back into it.”
“Is that an order?” he asked.
“Listen to me, Jonas,” she returned sharply. “I got along just fine without you and it’s going to stay that way. There isn’t any room for you in my life. I have Molly and my business and—Jim.” She added the last deliberately, knowing that it would anger him.
It didn’t seem to. “You feel safe standing behind him, don’t you?” Jonas said quietly.
“I’m only stating the way things are,” Bridget lied. “You can interpret what I say any way you want to.”
“I understand what you’re saying.” His jaw clenched tightly and he fought for a measure of self-control. “You aren’t going to give our relationship a chance to develop into something more.”
“I’m giving it the same chance you did, Jonas, when you left. None.” Her voice was cold. “Please leave my house.”
“I don’t get any credit for coming back, is that it?” His voice was bleak, the hopeful look in his eyes gone.
