CHAPTER SEVEN
THIS WAS THE danger of spending too much time around a woman like Tara. She watched Jeff with those dark brown eyes, looking almost like a normal person instead of a fantasy, and he was ready to tell her anything she wanted to know.
“Oh.” She quickly schooled her expression to hide her surprise. And maybe judgment. She’d clearly picked up on the fact that he hadn’tknown Bridget was pregnant beforehand. “I had no idea.”
“I try to keep personal stuff separate from work.”
“I understand,” she said with a smile, unfolding her legs and letting them dangle into the space between them. She shivered. “Are you willing to tell me anything about him?”
No one had ever asked him for permission. And to his surprise, hewaswilling to tell her a few things. First,he grabbed a knitted blanket from the cupboard and handed it to her. “You can use this to cover up if you’re still cold.” For his own sanity as much as her warmth.
“Thanks.” She draped the afghan over her lap and tucked it under her hips.
“His name’s Evan,” Jeff said now that there was another layer between them and he could breathe again. “He’s four.”
“Oh.” She pressed her hands together.“Kids are so cute at that age. Does he live close?”
“No, he’s in North Carolina with his mom.”
She pursed her lips. “It must be hard having him so far away.”
Especially when Jeff had no idea where Bridget and Evan were right now. “Yeah. I wish it were easier to see him. I’m not sure he’ll recognize me next time.”
Early on, he’d chased every lead, shown up every time there was even thewhiff of a chance Evan was nearby. He’d quickly realized he wouldn’t be able to pay his PI Olivia to keep up the search if he blew all his money following her team around.
“I’m sorry.”
The kettle beeped, signaling that the water was ready. Thank you, Jesus. He turned to the cabinet, very much needing to look away from Tara before he did something they’d both regret. Like wrap his arms aroundher slim body and kiss her senseless.
God, what was wrong with him? “Green tea or chamomile?”
“Chamomile,” she said, making her way down from the loft trailing the blanket. “Maybe it’ll help me calm down enough to sleep.”
He put a tea bag in each mug, poured the water over them, and handed her one. “Good luck.”
“I’ll need it.” She wrapped her elegant fingers around the cup and curled ontothe sofa with all her covers.
“You want my jacket?”
She smiled. “No, thanks.” Rearranging the afghan around herself, she said, “I’ll be fine.”
“Sorry. This thing is old.” He gestured to the walls.
“No, it’s great. This was a good idea.”
“Except you can’t sleep.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Pretty sure that makes two of us.”
“Fair enough.”
“Besides, I don’t think I’d be able to sleepno matter where we were,” she admitted. “My brain keeps going in circles trying to make sense of what’s happening.”
Multiple attempts on one’s life could have that effect. “You’re handling it all remarkably well, I think.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” She took a sip of her tea and closed her eyes. “Mmm. I needed this.”
If he were smart, he’d go back to bed, but all he’d accomplished forthe last hour was to tangle the sheets and wrinkle his shirt. His sense of self-preservation was apparently broken, because instead of sitting at the dining table, he settled next to her on the couch.
