He gave Katherine the same intent inspection she was giving him, and his sensual mouth curved into an amused grin when he took in her disheveled state. Knowing she was going to be working at home all day, she hadn’t bothered to do anything more with her honey-colored hair than sweep it up into a careless knot on the
top of her head and secure it with pins haphazardly stuck in at varying angles. Tendrils, bleached by the sun, brushed against her cheeks and clung damply to her neck.
Her skin was flushed with color from exertion and the humid warmth of the late summer morning. The extremely short and faded cutoffs were topped by an equally ragged chambray shirt whose sleeves had been cut out long ago either by Katherine or Mary. She had tied the shirttail in a knot under her breasts. It was a good shirt to paint in, but was far from being appropriate attire for greeting guests.
Katherine’s first impulse was to slam the door and protect herself from further embarrassment, but the man stared straight into her wide, green eyes and said with no inflection, “I’m Jason Manning.”
Chapter Two
His announcement hit her like a blow in the stomach and robbed her of logical thought. She stood stupefied for several seconds before she slumped against the door frame. She expelled her breath, having held it since opening the door and catching sight of this magnificent man who was Peter Manning’s brother.
When she didn’t reply or show any inclination toward inviting him in, he said mockingly, “I’m not in the habit of ravishing young women, Miss Adams. And though I’ve been in Africa for the better part of two years, I’m still civilized.”
His eyes were twinkling with mirth, and Katherine automatically resented his humor. He was going to destroy the world she had so painstakingly built for herself and Allison, and he had the gall to stand there and smile!
“May I come in?” he asked politely, and begrudgingly Katherine moved aside and allowed him to come through the door. She closed it behind him, then changed her mind and opened it again. He caught her move and smiled even deeper. The dimples on either side of his mouth were his only resemblance to Peter. His teeth showed incredibly white in his dark face.
“Still afraid I’m here to do you bodily harm?” he asked teasingly. Then he assumed a serious face and said softly, “Seeing you in that outfit, I’ll admit the prospect is damned tempting, but I would never take advantage of a lady with paint on her face.”
Katherine glanced down at her atrocious clothes and gasped as she noted how closely the damp cloth was clinging to her breasts. While she was bathing Allison, as was usually the case, she had become drenched. She had forgotten until now that her shirt had been soaked by the time she put the baby down for her nap.
Oh, God! she mentally groaned. She risked looking up at Jason Manning, but he was bending down from his tremendous height to pick up a wet cloth she had used to wipe away the dripping acrylic paint. Fascinated, like one hypnotized, she watched him approach her and reach out to grasp her chin in his fingers.
He tilted her head back so he could see what he was doing as he applied the cloth to the spot of paint on her nose. He went about his job absorbedly, unemotionally, but Katherine was finding it difficult to breathe. His whole presence was overwhelming, suffocating. The fingers on her jaw were strong, but gentle. His skin was very dark. Tans like that weren’t acquired by short periods of exposure to the sun while lying coated with thick applications of suntan lotion.
The lines that fanned from the corners of his eyes like fine webs were another indication that he spent most of his time out of doors. Oil? Wasn’t that what Mary had said? She couldn’t remember. She couldn’t remember anything. Her brain had been swept clean when he came toward her and clasped her chin in his hand.
His eyes were surrounded by thick, short, black lashes and framed by raven black brows that arched and tapered as if painted on. Katherine was on eye level with his chest and by raising her eyes only slightly, she could see his strong column of throat. In the deep V of his open sport shirt collar, she saw curling black hair that undoubtedly covered his broad chest. God! What was she thinking?
Angry with herself for allowing him such familiarity, she pushed his hand away and stepped backward.
“What do you want, Mr. Manning?”
He shrugged and dropped the cloth back onto the newspapers spread under his feet. “A Coke would be nice.” He smiled beguilingly.
“That isn’t what I meant and you know it,” she snapped. She was furious in her desperation. His friendly manner was only a ploy to reduce her suspicions and relax her guard. Well, she had resisted the advances of one Manning. Shivering in disgust, she remembered Peter’s behavior toward her. I’ll resist this Manning too. “What are you doing here?” she inquired coldly.
He sighed and crossed the room to sit on the sofa, the cushions of which she had so proudly re-covered herself.
“I think my reason for being here would be obvious to you, Katherine.” The sound of her name coming from his mouth made her heart lurch. Were they on a first-name basis already? Another of his disarming tricks, no doubt.
He studied her a moment as he leaned negligently back against the cushions of the couch. “I came to get my brother’s baby.”
She had known his purpose, but having him verbalize it struck terror in her heart. The pain in her chest was almost more than she could bear. She wasn’t going to crumple in front of him. She couldn’t!
Her face paled considerably, and, slowly shaking her head, she choked out, “No.”
When he saw her distress, he stood and took a few steps toward her. She backed away from him, and when he read the aversion on her face, he stopped. Raking his fingers through hair that would forever be somewhat unruly, he muttered a curse under his breath.
He pulled his bottom lip through his teeth several times and stared at her through squinted eyes. He stood with his hands on his hips, and the commanding stance made Katherine feel even more vulnerable in her shabby clothes and bare feet. She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another, but met his stare with as much calm as she could muster.
Finally he spoke. “Look. I know this isn’t going to be easy on anyone. So could we at least try to make it as painless as possible? I really would like a Coke if you have one. A cup of coffee? Let’s discuss our mutual problem like rational grown-ups. Okay?”
“I have no problem, Mr. Manning.”
“Jace.”
“What?” she asked, momentarily distracted by his interruption.