Jonas resisted capturing her wrist and bringing her fingers back to his face. He didn’t want to appear obsessed with her, although he was afraid it might be too late. “Not exactly. The camera was trained on the door. The door never opened. I realized later that the positioning of the camera was a big mistake, but it took a long time for me to wrap my head around the fact that Ian might have bigger secrets than any of us knew. I don’t know why, since all of us have them. Why shouldn’t he? It’s just that he always appears so easygoing.”
“Does he? He didn’t seem easygoing to me,” Camellia objected. She rolled over, sat up and looked around his bedroom. “Where did you throw my clothes?”
“Do you need clothes?”
“I object to cooking without them and I’m hungry. But keep talking about Ian and the greenhouse. Was it really Ian stealing your produce?”
“Don’t like the idea of you covering up,” Jonas disapproved. He was up immediately though, catching up her shirt where he’d tossed it into the corner. “I can get one of my tees, Camellia. I should have taken more care with your clothes. This is wrinkled. We can hang it in the shower and the steam will take care of it.”
“Thanks, that sounds good.” She took the leggings from him and the clean T-shirt he pulled from one of the built-in drawers. “Get back to Ian and the greenhouse. You have me intrigued.”
“He especially loves fresh berries. I grow them at one end of the greenhouse. He’s always going after the berries.”
Jonas pulled on his jeans and turned to watch her slide off the bed. She moved with fluid grace, the curves of her body so sexy beneath his thin tee. There was no hiding her breasts or hips even with his large tee. It might be long, but it clung to her very feminine shape. He held out his hand to her.
As a young child, he had observed his father constantly putting his arm around his mother. Around her waist. Draping his arm around her shoulders. Coming up behind her and locking both arms around her, high, just under her breasts. He held her hand every chance he got. He would lean in for a kiss. Sometimes the kiss would be just a brush of their lips. Other times he would really kiss her, pulling her tight against his body. He danced with her in their kitchen. By the campfire. After they practiced their act together.
Jonas had loved watching them together. He had never been like other children, finding the way his parents were together “gross.” Maybe it was because his father taught him that expressing love for his mother was a good thing. Healthy and right. His father was open about loving his mother and loving him. He always told Jonas that the physical side of love was as important as the emotional, and not to neglect his woman. To show her she was loved in every way.
Jonas had never felt the need to be continually touching a woman. He’d never wanted to wake up next to one or go to sleep beside one—until now. Now, everything was different. He didn’t want Camellia out of his sight. For the first time, he truly understood why his father always wanted to touch his mother, why he wanted to be with her. It wasn’t about controlling her or possessing her. It was about loving her and feeling driven to keep her safe.
“Tell me Ian didn’t steal your berries? That’s kind of sacrilegious.” His woman was laughing her contagious laugh, so clearly she didn’t consider Ian’s sins too sacrilegious.
“He stole them,” Jonas confirmed. “Every time the berries got ripe, he’d know because he could look right through the walls and see them. He never once came through the door. Eventually, I caught a glimpse of something moving in the greenhouse and realized I had the camera in the wrong place, and I added a second one on the berries.”
Jonas loved the wide-open spaces of his home, the high ceilings and the banks of windows. Once out of the master bedroom, one room flowed straight into the next. The kitchen was large so he could move around when he was in it.
He liked cooking for his friends. That was another trait he’d gotten from his circus family. They’d often eaten together. Both his mother and father had prepared meals, and it was clear they’d enjoyed it. They always included Jonas when they were prepping, cooking or grilling. Because his parents made it fun, he’d always perceived cooking as enjoyable. It was one of the few things that he found soothing. Whitney had taken that from him, but he could still cook for a couple of his friends at a time, and he made the most of it.