Into His Keeping (30 page)

Even his gym was state-of-the-art, made to appear casual. Jill smiled as she took the orange juice out of the fridge and poured herself a glass. Whoever decorated for him was brilliant at hiding the look of wealth and making it appear normal, even charmingly simple.

Chances were good that the decorator was a “she” who would look right at home in these surroundings. This kind of attention to detail and absolutely perfect taste came with more than a price tag. It came with expectations.

Jill had seen the signs in the master bedroom as well. It was made for two in every way. The two walk-in closets were defiantly his and hers. The one Holdin used was perfectly masculine. The one that was empty reminded Jill of the closet she’d seen in the movie
Princes Diaries 2
. There were drawers for every conceivable thing a woman with everything would need. There was a dressing mirror that had a surround view, even an antique, ladies’ dressing settee.

That was not to mention the master bath with two sinks and two of everything a man and woman needed in there. The warm, light browns of the floor tiles were a perfect complement to the navy blue and blushing coral used to accent and enhance the space. There was nothing bachelor about this house. It was meant for two and a family. Holdin had built it long before Jill had returned. Every perfect corner of it whispered to her that he’d built it with someone in mind.

Jill made herself a slice of toast and sat down to gaze out the family room’s double sliding doors to the tiled patio and Olympic-size pool out back. There was a guesthouse on the other side of the pool nestled behind concealing shrubs and trees. A private world of its own as well. This was the perfect house, set on the perfect property, made for casual entertaining in understated luxury and style. How could ordinary Jill compete with that?

Poignant sadness settled around her as she crunched on the toast. She didn’t feel much like eating but knew she’d have to prove that she had when Holdin came in from his workout. He was always concerned about the little things. Even how much she ate or didn’t eat. A perfect caregiver in a perfect environment.

A really annoying irony was, Jill suspected she couldn’t even hate “the decorator”. That was the name she’d given the ghostly female she felt in every room. The rooms Jill liked best were the ones she felt the decorator’s touch most strongly. In the warm, Southwestern kitchen the woman breathed down Jill’s neck. When in the front sitting room, with its delightful mix of gracious history and modern casualness, Jill could almost smile with her over the beautiful artifacts. Of course she lounged in that perfect closet and the womanly sophistication of the master bath.

Whoever she was, Jill liked her style. Liked her consideration of Holdin’s needs in the sturdy furniture and comfortable arrangements she’d made for his life. That card table was just one example of the woman’s thoughtfulness. It was comfortably situated so whoever was gathered there had a clear view of the big-screen TV in the family room. Jill could see Holdin and his buddies gathered there for poker night as they also watched some sports show on the TV. Close enough to the kitchen for snacks but not as if they were in someone’s kitchen. The woman was a genius all right. She knew how to live graciously.

Jill heard the interior door to the gym bang and firm footsteps heading in her direction. She closed her eyes and tried to gather composure as the man she loved too much to keep neared. Today Petra, the housekeeper, would not be in. Drifter was off with Carol and Charles doing some school clothes shopping. They had left early to have breakfast first. So it was just Holdin and Jill for the first time since she’d come to his place. Time to set Holdin free.

Jill smiled brightly as Holdin entered the kitchen. His eyes found her in the large love seat immediately. It was a favorite chair of hers. Across the kitchen and eating space separating them, he seemed to reach out and touch her just by entering the room. How did he do that? Every time she saw him, it was as if she were a girl again.

Jill busily crumpled her napkin and stood to put her dish in the sink. She just couldn’t meet his gaze right now. He didn’t appear to notice as he pulled some items for breakfast out of the fridge.

“How are you feeling?” Holdin asked the same question he asked every morning. The fresh scent of the masculine soap he used in the gym shower wafted around her. He was even slightly damp. His T-shirt clinging to the fascinating muscles as he moved around the kitchen.

Jill was at the sink rinsing her dish, her back to him doing her best to ignore the temptation to turn around and stare at him. “Fine. Great really.”

In the interest of not appearing stiff and defensive, a very good reason she assured herself, she turned around to watch him. He’d never let her fix him a meal. Said he’d been a bachelor too long to need a woman’s help to eat. Petra had the freezer stacked with roasts and casseroles along with an assortment of breakfast foods. There was hardly any need to make more than a salad for the main meals.

The frozen food tasted homemade. Jill suspected Petra cooked them in her house across the property and had Eduardo bring them up to the main house when no one was home. She’d never caught them at it though. Holdin thought he had a delivery service for them.

Holdin put two breakfast burritos in the microwave. “Sit anyway. It’ll make me feel better,” he directed her with a smile.

Jill complied. She suspected the conversation she wanted to have would be difficult enough. No reason to fight him on the small stuff. At the large table, she watched him make his plate and bring it over. He sat across from her.

“What are your plans for today?” he asked after he’d swallowed about half the first burrito.

“I thought you and I could talk this morning,” Jill told him seriously.

Holdin looked up sharply. Her tone said the talk she wanted was an important one. He put down his utensils and took a sip of coffee. “What’s on your mind, Jilly-girl?”

Jill sighed and looked away. Damn, this was hard. “I thought we should discuss Drifter and me moving back to our apartment. I’m fine now. It’s time everyone moved on with their normal lives.”

Holdin regarded Jill levelly for what felt like several minutes. “Why?” His deep voice was supremely calm as he asked the simple question.

“Ah, well, school starts in about a week and I thought we should settle into our routine. I know you’ll be involved with his life but I don’t want us to be plopped in the middle of yours forever. I mean…” Jill hesitated as Holdin frowned darkly. “It’s just simpler if we are in our own space. You know?”

Jill cursed silently in her mind. She sounded like a hesitant fool. This was no way to convince Holdin that she was completely recovered and didn’t need him anymore.

“No, I don’t know. It makes absolutely no sense to me,” Holdin informed her. “But if you don’t like this house, I guess we can move into your place. It’ll be a tight fit. Maybe you’ll look at some bigger places you do like when you’re feeling better?”

Jill cleared her throat and tried to inject firm resolve into her tone. “I’m feeling perfectly fine and I intend to go back to work next week. I’m not asking you to move in there with us, Holdin. This is your house. It’s lovely. I love it. But it’s not my house. I think we’ve disrupted your life long enough. You’ve been wonderful through this whole ordeal. Really wonderful.”

“If I’ve been so wonderful, why are you trying to leave?” Holdin asked directly.

“To give you back your life. I’m not an idiot. I know you’re busy and stuff. We’ll be happy to see you whenever you can but I don’t want to…ah,” Jill stuttered and frowned as Holdin pushed back his chair abruptly, scooped up his plate and strode into the kitchen. There he dumped the remaining food into the sink and flipped on the garbage disposal. After he’d shut the noisy thing off, he rinsed his plate and cleaned up the rest of what he’d taken out for breakfast. Both of them were silent. He was moving in short, jerky motions. It was the first time she’d ever seen him look anything but smooth and coordinated. He didn’t slam things but anger radiated off him in the clipped movements.

Finally he stopped and placed his hands on the kitchen counter. His back was to her as he seemed to brace facing the cabinets. “So you want to leave?”

“I think it’d be best,” Jill responded quietly.

“Why?” he asked again tightly. “Make me understand, Jill. Why are you always leaving?”

“Holdin, it’s not an issue of leaving. I know we said a lot of things before the surgery but that was a high-stress time for both of us. You’d just learned what had really happened to me and that you had a son. I was afraid of everything. Dying being the most urgent because I had no way to control what would happen to Drifter then there was the mob. We touched each other with the remains of a relationship that required closing. You gave me the reassurance I needed to face surgery. I will not trap you with those things. Now it’s time to be grown-ups. To face what’s best for each other and our son.”

Holdin turned around and leaned against the counter. His arms crossed over his chest, emphasizing the broadness of his shoulders as compared with slim hips. His ankles were crossed and in that stance, thick thighs seemed to bulge under worn jeans. He was a statue of what a perfect male should look like. Jill gulped in a deep breath and looked away.

“Trap me? How could you possibly trap me?” he asked in puzzled incredulity.

Jill’s hands spread out in frustration. “You know what I mean. I’m the mother of your child. A child you had no idea about for years. You’re already trapped. I don’t want to make the situation any worse than it is. We need to get along, be some kind of family for Drifter. I’m trying to make this easy for you. Why are you not getting that?”

“Your leaving me is what I don’t get,” Holdin growled. “I realize you’re used to just slipping away but this time you have to explain it to me.”

Jill’s teeth snapped shut in a rush of anger. “Just slipping away? You’re throwing that at me now? You know exactly why I had to leave the first time. And now I am trying to have a civilized conversation with you. I’m not the one throwing around hurtful accusations and being confrontational.”

Holdin’s scowl darkened as he leaned toward her for emphasis. “I’m not the one running away, Jilly-girl. I can hardly be called confrontational when I’m willing to work though our differences instead of running away from them.”

“I’m not running away from anything except maybe the ghost of the woman you had in here decorating. That bitch is annoying as hell.”

“Who? What are you taking about?”

“Nothing. Sorry. That wasn’t fair,” Jill apologized and tried to relax. Her heart was beating in the pounding rhythm of fight or flight. She knew her face was flushed and she had to clap her hands tightly in her lap to keep them from trembling. Voices were being raised at each other but it hadn’t gotten to yelling yet. That was sort of shocking since she could never remember Holdin arguing with anyone and certainly not her. Of course she’d never opposed him in the past.

“There’s a ghost in the house?” Holdin pressed, frowning. His tone was no longer challenging, but it was still a hard punch of authoritative demand that she explain. “I just built it six years ago and no one’s died here. There can’t be a ghost.”

“I was speaking metaphorically,” Jill quickly interjected, not wanting to explain her emotional outburst. “Forget it. Look, I’m not running away. You’ll know exactly where we are and what we’re doing. It’s time for you to have your life back. Time for us to go back to ours.” Jill tried to sound calm and reasonable. She hated conflict and this was getting dangerously close to something she knew she couldn’t handle.

Disapproval from Holdin, even if it was simply verbal, felt like a slap. He was too important to her. She couldn’t let him know how easy it would be for him to steamroll her.

Holdin’s lips turned down as he growled, “I would rather know right where you two are because I look at your faces every morning.” He continued to study her with an expression that told Jill he was rolling the previous exchange around in his very active brain.

“That’s not a realistic living arrangement, Holdin. We will be…” Jill couldn’t find the right words to imply the delicate subject of his being a man who had to be used to bringing home women whenever he wanted to. “In the way.”

“In the way of what exactly?” Holdin asked in silky tones as one of his eyebrows rose in question.

Jill heard the difference in his voice and felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. He hadn’t physically moved but suddenly he was all different. Gone was the puzzled astonishment. What surrounded him now was an air of watchful predator. Jill shivered just looking at him.

Suddenly she wasn’t facing the Holdin who’d been the soul of patient consideration and gentle humor these last three weeks. The man leaning against the kitchen counter bore a striking resemblance to a Bengal tiger. A golden beast whose next move was patently unpredictable and inherently dangerous. He was watching her with the eerie stillness of one who was listening with all his senses. Gauging her responses on more than her words. Power rippled under his skin as he gazed at her, waiting for an answer to his question.