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He didn’t answer right away. In fact, it seemed to take him a long time to formulate a reply. Long enough for her to turn around to face him, preferring to hear the truth head-on. His eyes held hers. “Lesley Walker.”
The name slid over the surface of Molly’s memory and caught. “The architect?”
“We worked together a lot over the past year.”
She nodded. Other than the name, Molly had no clear picture of the woman. “She must be very special.” Otherwise Jordan wouldn’t love her.
“Stop it!” Jordan exploded, his good fist tightly clenched. “You don’t need to be so understanding. I should’ve told you up front. Instead, I left you hanging, thinking there might be a chance for us, when there isn’t. You have every right to be angry. Throw something,” he shouted, reaching for an empty vase. “You’ll feel better.”
She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “You mean,you’llfeel better.” She removed the vase from his hand and set it back down. “Don’t look so guilty. I was the one who walked out on you, remember?” Her hand trembled slightly as she opened the front door. “Whatever arrangements you make are fine. Just let me know when you need me to sign the papers.”
* * *
Jordan would rather have taken another bullet than have Molly look at him the way she had when he’d said he wanted a divorce. First her eyes had widened, as she dealt with the shock his words inflicted, then they’d gone dull and empty. It was all he could do not to reach for her with his uninjured arm, pull her close and comfort her.
He’d never meant to tell her about Lesley like that. He’d wanted to sit down and explain that he hadn’t intended to fall in love again. It had simply happened.But his good intentions had taken the proverbial road straight to hell.
His attempt at following the doctor’s instruction—to stay at home and rest—lasted all of an hour. He needed to get down to the job site. He needed to talk to Paul. He needed to escape his own thoughts before he questioned what he was doing. What he really needed, Jordan decided, was to have his head examined.
Lesley met him at the job site. He’d been back nearly twenty-four hours before he’d contacted her. He’d called her cell and left a message without including any details. Hardly appropriate, considering this was the woman he planned to marry. He wanted to blame Molly for his inadequate behavior, but he honestly couldn’t. Still, at the moment, he’d rather not see any woman, even Lesley.
“I can’t believe you’re working,” she said, stepping into the construction trailer, looking as wholesome and sunny as a spring day. Her eyes lit up with concern when she saw his arm in the sling. “I went to the house first. Shouldn’t you be in a hospital or something?”
“Probably,” Jordan muttered, allowing her to kiss his cheek.
Paul took one look at him and made a convenient excuse to leave. Jordan didn’t need to ask his friend’s opinion; it was there for him to read in Paul’s eyes.
Jordan didn’t need his best friend in order to feel guilty. After the morning confrontation with Molly, no one could make him feel like more of a jerk than he already did.
“How did everything go in the East African Republic?” Lesley asked.
“Great.”
“Molly wasn’t hurt?”
“No.” He kept his responses brief, hoping she’d realize he wasn’t in the mood to talk.
“How did you feel when you saw her? I mean, it’s been years, so you must have feltsomething.”
“I did.”
The pain in his shoulder grew worse and he slumped into a chair and closed his eyes until the worst of it had passed.
“Jordan, are you okay?” Lesley asked. “In your message, you said it was minor. You’ve been badly injured.”
“It’s just a flesh wound.” Another understatement, but he didn’t want her gushing sympathy all over him. She’d make him sound like some hero, and he wasn’t.
“How long will you have to wear the sling?”
“As long as it takes,” he answered shortly.
If he wasn’t in such a crappy mood, he’d appreciate Lesley more. She understood his need for work and was ambitious herself. They were a perfect match. An ideal couple. It was time to cut the ties that bound him to Molly.
“I realize this probably isn’t a good time to ask, but did you mention the divorce to Molly?”
Talking about the divorce left an ugly taste. He ignored the question, stood and pretended to be absorbed in some blueprints.
“Naturally you didn’t get a chance to talk to her, not with the country involved in a revolution,” Lesley said, answering her own question. “You were lucky to get out with your lives.”
