Sparring Partners (34 page)

Jordon hadn't seen his wife since she
retired after dinner, a dinner where his fire-haired, fire-hearted
wife said nothing if not spoken to directly, and smiled so
blindingly at everyone that even Charlie was concerned enough to
quietly ask Jordon if Reed was sick.

Charlie was a better ex-husband than Jordon
had been a husband since they got here. Jordon knew it, and still
he couldn't seem to help himself. Somehow he'd make it up to her
after he finished this deal. When he was running B.H., the pressure
would be off. He could spend more time with her then and properly
teach her how to handle herself as an ambassador for B.H.– for
him.

Of course, she was going to have to change
her name to Bennett. No more of this Mohr crap.

Jordon shook off the cobwebs in his head,
put the papers he'd read and re-read back into his case, locked the
case in the closet safe that was reserved solely for him, and
headed to the kitchen. What he needed was a pot of coffee, not that
herbal tea crap he got at Potters Woods. How many pots did he drink
during a normal day before Potters Woods– he couldn't remember. He
hadn't really missed it until now.

"Ms. Reed didn't look so well at
dinner."

Jordon moved to the thirty-six cup sterling
coffee server which, evidently, Thorson had filled. For that at
least, Jordon was grateful. For the commentary, the jury was still
out. Overall, it wasn't starting out well.

"Good morning, Thorson."

"Mr. Bennett."

Jordon leaned against the long kitchen
counter, within reach of the coffee, and eyed the man who had
worked for his family since he was a child. The only name Jordon
had ever heard him use was Thorson. Whether that was his first or
his last, Jordon never knew, and until this moment hadn't been all
that curious about.

"Since when do you call me
Mr.
Bennett
, Thorson? You've called me Jordon all my life."

"Seems to me you're not trying to be Jordon
anymore. Seems to me you'd rather be Mr. Bennett."

"Am I supposed to understand what you're
talking about?"

Thorson took another sip of whatever it was
he was drinking, then, Jordon noticed the teapot. That made more
sense. Thorson made coffee, but Jordon couldn't actually remember
him ever drinking it.

"Don't expect you to." Thorson said, in that
slow manner of his that used to calm Jordon as a child. Now it only
pissed him off. "At least not anymore." Thorson said more to
himself it seemed than to Jordon. Then he let it drop.

Jordon had bigger things to worry about than
Thorson's mood swings.

"As I was saying, sir, Ms. Reed didn't look
well last night. Perhaps something she ate didn't agree with
her."

Jordon set his coffee down and ran both
hands through his hair. "Reed's fine. She's just not used to
company of this caliber, that's all." Jordon stopped, hands still
in his hair and pierced Thorson with his gaze. "That's the second
time you've referred to my wife as Ms. Reed. Are you trying to tell
me something, Thorson?"

The older man shrugged and took another sip
from his cup. Jordon looked more closely at the mug, eyes narrowed.
Neon stripes of yellow, purple, orange and green flanked the top
and the bottom of the pink mug that read:
Instant karma's gonna
get you.

"Where did you get that mug?"

"Ms. Reed gave it to me when I said I liked
the color."

"Will you quit calling her that?"

"That's her name."

"Her name is Reed– " he almost said
Mohr
, stopped himself and said, "Bennett. Reed Bennett."

"That's not how she signs her checks."
Thorson shot back.

"Well it will be."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Jordon gritted out, not moving his
teeth.

"Why does it matter to you what name she
uses? A rose is a rose after all."

This was one of Thorson's favorite games. He
played it with Jordon while Jordon was growing up and helping with
odd jobs around the house, gardening mostly and seeing to the
horses. Thorson had some bit of wisdom to impart, and it was
Jordon's role to learn the bit of wisdom and to recite back to him
any literary or historical references Thorson used to make his
point. They hadn't played in years, and here the old man was
challenging him again.

"The bard? Really? Little off your game,
aren't you, old man?"

"Would you have preferred Marlowe?
Bussy-Shelly perhaps? Or maybe it's Mary Shelley you prefer. Her
work seems to suit you. She wasn't really married, you know, and
yet she still took Percy's name. Do you think that made a
difference between them?"

"Just spit it out Thorson." Jordon looked at
his watch, swallowed the remainder of his coffee in one gulp, and
set his cup on the counter behind him. "I've got work to do."

"Ahh."

"Ahh...what?" Jordon demanded, more
irritated than he wanted to be.

"That work will be a lot easier if Miss.
Reed magically becomes Mrs. Bennett, won't it?"

"That's got nothing to do with it."

"So you want her to change who she is then,
not just what she calls herself. I wonder why you'd want an orchid
when it's the wild rose that caught your eye."

Caffeine induced irritability poured through
Jordon's system like Coke over a rust covered screw, eating
everything in its path. He watched Thorson pour himself another cup
of tea as if he had all the time in the world to enjoy it and no
worries to bitter its sweet taste. Jordon wanted to choke him.

Instead, he left the room without another
word.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Reed felt hung-over and ready to kill
something. As soon as she brushed her teeth, she intended to get
right on that. Right now, however, she needed ten more minutes of
sleep. She was pretty sure homicide was an activity for the fully
awake.

Unfortunately, she didn't know who to
kill.

Shay solved that problem for her by hitting
her over the head with a silk covered throw pillow. The tassels on
the damn thing stung like hell, but they banished the snakes. So
much for small favors, Reed mused.

"What the hell are you doing? Get out of my
room."

Shay grinned at her and hit her again. "Not
on your life princess. I don't work for you, I work for your
husband, and I've been given the task of playing babysitter. Now
get your ass out of bed."

"Go away."

"Don't make me move that ottoman. It's going
to hurt a heck of a lot more than these prissy-ass pillows."

"Give me ten more minutes."

"No."

"Bastard."

"I'm not even going to go there baby-girl.
I'm in too good a mood."

"Yeah?" Reed asked, sneaking a one eyed peek
at him from under her pillow. "Bring your sparring gear?"

"Indeed I did. I brought yours too." He
slapped her bottom over the covers. "Now get your lazy ass outta
bed. It's after ten and you're the only one who hasn't been up for
hours. Meet me in the gazebo in fifteen minutes. I've already roped
it off. We'll go a few rounds before we break out the sticks."

With that, Shannon O'Shay backed out of the
room. When he made it to the door he threw her running shoes at her
head. "You fall back asleep and I've got permission to spank
you...and then kick your ass."

Reed bounded up and threw the shoes at
Shay's head. Unfortunately, all she hit was the door. His laughter
spurred her into and out of the shower in record time. She quickly
threw on her peace frog shirt, blue yoga pants, and her wrist guard
and ran to the gazebo. She checked her pink rubber sports watch
that ran on light as she crossed the threshold of the front door,
waving to Thorson as she jogged by.

10:08a.m.

In fighting-mode in under nine minutes. The
day was looking up.

...

Jesse felt as out of place here, rubbing
elbows with the rich kids from Chicago that were spending their
daddy's money, as he had when he first arrived at Potters Woods a
lifetime ago. He wasn't the same fourteen year old boy, so afraid
of losing everyone around him that he didn't care whether he lived
or died, as he was then, but that didn't stop the gut wrenching
fear he'd felt then from coursing through his veins now.

Fear of loss did that to a person, even at
almost seventeen.

He watched as Reed and Shay sparred without
gloves or gear, just messing around doing some pre-arranged
movements and some not so pre-arranged. Reed knocked Shay on his
ass twice, and judging from the smirk on Shay's face, and the fact
that he didn't retaliate on at least five openings Jesse saw, made
Jesse think Shay deserved it. Shay was Jesse's friend too and he
knew enough about the man to know he was trying to take Reed's mind
off thinking she was a failure.

She wouldn't see it that way, but his
adoptive mother never admitted defeat. Not as long as he'd known
her. Giving up just wasn't part of who she was, not when she could
find another way around. That's what she'd done to keep him.

That's what he hoped she'd found a way to do
to keep Jordon. Jesse liked Jordon. He had a sense for people, good
and bad. Jordon was a good guy, Jesse felt it in his bones. It was
a feeling he'd turned into a skill he depended on to survive, and
it had never steered Jesse wrong. That's why it was so hard to
understand how Jordon magically turned into a complete asshole
within an hour of getting to the cottage.

Jesse wanted to go home. With his family.
They had to get Jordon away from this place before the asshole-ness
became permanent. Even Charlie, who thought Jordon was the greatest
thing ever to happen to Reed, was beginning to wonder. Something
had to give. There had to be some way to make this better for Reed.
And Jordon, himself, looked as miserable as he was making all of
them feel.

Jesse pulled at the collar of his starched
polo shirt, a gift from Jordon along with five pair of some
designer khaki pants that came to a point in front and had to be
ironed. Who irons anything these days? The clothes made him itch,
and his new boat shoes gave him blisters. Jesse couldn't understand
why anyone would actually wear these awful things, he slipped
coming down the hill because they had no traction. They didn't even
come to his ankles, how was he supposed to fight in them? Worse
than that, they were cream colored with splotches of green and dark
blue. He looked gayer than Charlie, and that wasn't easy.

Rubbing his neck, Jesse headed toward the
gazebo. Maybe Reed would let him go a few rounds with Shay, it
might make him feel better.

"That red-headed boy looks like a girl." The
most beautiful woman Jesse had ever seen said, as she brushed past
him.

He recognized her: Giselle Gabbiana. Her
face was spread all over town, advertizing everything from perfume
to motorcycle batteries. Wow. She looked even better in person. She
was walking with Mrs. Giles and another woman he'd yet to be
introduced to. They all ignored him.

"That's Jordon's wife." Mrs. Giles said,
nothing in her tone but respect.

"You've got to be kidding." Giselle laughed,
and the sound rippled through Jesse like warm rain. He re-adjusted
his pants, hating when that happened.

"I'm not kidding, and you'd do well to hold
your tongue. I've met her. Reed's very nice." Mrs. Giles smiled,
somewhat evilly in Jesse's opinion, but her tone was sweet when she
said, "Of course you could always laugh at her to her face.
Understand though, you might be risking that perfect nose of
yours."

Giselle wasn't bothered by Mrs. Giles's
suggestion. She smiled her own fifty-thousand dollar a day smile
and took a sip of something clear from a twisted over-sized
inverted triangle glass. She blew Mrs. Giles a kiss, meowing like a
cat.

The hair on the back of Jesse's neck stood
at attention, the same second another part of him deflated. Giselle
was a bitch, and he didn't like the way she was smiling at his
mother.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

"Ready to say 'uncle' yet Mohr?" Shay said,
dancing around her. He was always light on his feet, but today he
was dead-spot-on, kicking her tail like the pro he was.

Oh what it must be like to be tall, powerful
and male, if only for a three minute round. Someday, Goddess
willing, she'd come close. That day was not today. Still, all
things considered, she'd bruised a few ribs, taken a few names and
exorcized a few demons. Not the
black-hearted-pirate-samurai-caveman-demon she married, but some
other lesser demons bit the gazebo floor. All in all, not a bad
morning's work.

"Not unless I can use the words 'uncle',
'William' and 'supreme-evil-jackass' in the same sentence." Reed
said, huffing and puffing as she tried to keep up with Shay who was
taller, stronger, and had less body fat, not to mention the fact
that he'd fought professionally for a time. He was being kind to
her now, she knew it and was grateful for the gesture today.
Tomorrow?– well she'd see how the night went before she made any
promises.

"Go ahead, Red. I don't work for him
either."

Reed smiled at him and stopped dancing. She
held out one arm, the other on her knee as she bent over to get a
deep breath. "Thanks, Shay. I needed this."

"Put some meat on your skinny ass and you
just might be able to go more than six rounds."

Reed looked up at him through her hair, not
moving her bent head. "I mean it Shay. I thought I was going to
kill the next person who called me Mrs. Bennett in that superior
condescending tone that really means,
what did Jordon see in
you
?"

That wiped the perpetual Irish smile from
Shay's merry face. "Who the hell told you that?"

Reed was please by his ire. "No one. They're
far too polite to come out and actually say anything, but it's
there. I feel it every time I walk past one of these blue-bloods
like a slap in the face. That silver spoon they're born with must
be laced with the ability to make other people feel less human.
Like malevolent fairy-dust."