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“But what?” Jonas frowned, his compellingly handsome face only inches above her own.
“There are some questions I wanted to ask before—” Bridget faltered and left the rest unsaid. “That’s why I came over tonight.”
Jonas looked away, his eyes closing as he exhaled a long breath. With suppressed emotion, her levered himself upright, away from her, and savagely rubbed the back of his neck.
She watched silently, knowing he was upset and frustrated. She was upset with herself for letting his embrace make her forget the reason for her visit. Unexpectedly he rose from the sofa and started to walk from the room.
“Where are you going?” Bridget frowned in confusion.
“To get some coffee,” Jonas snapped, not hiding his irritation. “If this is going to be another one of our typical exchanges, I’ll need to pay attention.”
His disappearance into the kitchen was followed by the slamming of cupboard doors and the clink of cups on saucers. Shakily, Bridget pushed herself into a sitting position on the sofa as the impatient tread of footsteps signaled his return.
A glance at the hard set of his features made Bridget regret again that she had allowed his incredibly sensual kisses to sidetrack her from her purpose. The small tray in his hands held two cups of coffee. He set it on the low table in front of the sofa and took one of the cups.
“Here you go.” With the clipped announcement, Jonas sat down in an armchair opposite the sofa as if needing distance between them.
Bridget picked up the remaining cup, hoping the black coffee would steady her nerves. She held it with both hands, trying to ward off the pervading chill that had suddenly enveloped the room.
“All right, what are your questions?” he demanded, breathing out heavily in an attempt for patience and control.
“Look, we got off to an awkward start and I’ll be honest, Jonas—I wasn’t thrilled to see you back in March.”
“I noticed.”
“And when you bought the Hanson place and announced you were opening a medical office in Randolph, I didn’t know what to do or say. And then there was Molly to be considered. It’s always been just me and her—almost always,” she amended quickly, glancing at him. “Anyway, every time I saw you or we happened to be alone …” She trailed off. “Okay. You can finish that sentence as well as I can. We can’t keep our hands off each other, but that doesn’t mean we can fool around like kids. We’re not kids.”
Jonas nodded wearily. “Right now I feel about a thousand years old”
She laughed a little. “You look good for your age.”
“Thanks. Okay, bring it on. I can feel the gray hair you’re about to give me growing.”
“Don’t say things like that, Jonas,” she pleaded. “I’m not doing this to be mean. You’ve been so nice to me and to Molly this summer—Jonas, I can’t tell you how awful it feels to have to dredge up this old stuff and hash it out. But I—” she hesitated, “I think I want this relationship to go somewhere. So we have to resolve some things and clear the air and then—and then—I don’t know.”
Jonas shook his head. “You know something? That’s the one sentence that really scares a man.”
“What?”
“We have to talk. Eve must have said it to Adam when they got kicked out of paradise. And it was all downhill from there.”
“We do have to talk. And we might as well begin with the tough stuff—the money.” Bridget stared at her coffee, unable to meet his piercing regard.
“Oh, yeah. Scene One, Line One. Margaret Harrison offers Jonas Concannon, her innocent daughter’s boyfriend, big bucks to get out of town and not come back. Cut to detergent commercial and tune in tomorrow.”
His flip retort irked her. “Skip the sarcasm, Jonas. It actually did happen and it should be obvious to you why it’s so important.”
“Ten years later? No, damnit, it isn’t!” His cup was returned to its saucer with a decided clink. “Let’s get one thing straight right now: your mother is nuts.”
“She is not!” Bridget set her cup aside and rose in agitation. “She said you took the money she offered you and you left.”
“And you believed her.”
Bridget gave a tiny nod.
“Mind if I quote from my psych textbook? I still remember a diagnosis that fit your mother perfectly. Narcissistic Personality Disorder. She’ll do anything to be the center of attention. Including lie.”
“That’s not true,” Bridget insisted.
