Jack shook his head. The lawyer in him was ready to offer a rebuttal to what she’d just said. But he held his tongue. Because deep down, part of him knew that Zooey was right. That he should be part of their lives far more than he was.
But right now, it wasn’t possible. The demands on his time were too great, and he had to act while he could. That was how careers—lasting, secure careers—were made.
Lucky for his children—and him—he’d struck gold when he’d found Zooey.
He supposed that made a good argument for going along with impulse—as long as it could stand to be thoroughly researched, he added silently. Old dog, new tricks, he mused.
Standing before his son’s door, Jack paused for half a second as he looked at Zooey over his shoulder. The harsh expression on his face had softened considerably. “Am I paying you enough?”
“Probably not,” she responded, then waved him on. “Now go say goodbye to your son if you don’t want to be late.”
Now she was looking out for him as well. Jack shook his head. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re too bossy?”
The list was endless, she thought, but out loud she said, “Maybe. Once or twice. I wouldn’t have to be if you did these things on your own. Now open the door,” she told him.
“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, amused, as he turned the doorknob.
Chapter Four
“See, that wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Smiling broadly, Zooey shot the question at him three minutes later as she walked with him to the front door.
He stopped in the entry, a less than patient reply on his lips. It froze there as something seemed to crackle between them. It wasn’t dry enough to be static electricity, but certainly felt like it.
And like something a little more…
Feeling like a man who was tottering on the brink, Jack pulled himself back. “I didn’t say it would be hard, I said that it was—oh, never mind.” He waved a hand in the air, dismissing the exchange he knew he’d be destined to lose. “I guess I should just be grateful that you’re not with the DA’s office.”
Her eyes crinkled as she grinned. She was going to get lines there if she wasn’t careful, he thought.
“Attaboy, Jack. Always look at the positive side of things.”
He didn’t believe in optimism. The last time he’d felt a surge of optimism, he’d asked Patricia to marry him—hoping, unrealistically, for a slice of “happily ever after.” What he’d wound up getting were arguments and seemingly irreconcilable differences—until her life, and their marriage, was abruptly terminated.
“I deal in facts,” he told Zooey tersely.
Was that pity in her eyes? And what was he doing, anyway, staring into her emerald-green eyes.
“Facts can be very cold things,” she told him. “At the end of the day, dreams are what get you through, Jack. Hopes and dreams are a reason to get up and strive tomorrow.”
Had he ever been that idealistic? He sincerely doubted it. If he had, it was far too long ago for him to remember. “Mortgage payments and college tuition are reasons to get up and strive tomorrow.”
Zooey cocked her head, her eyes looking straight into him. Into his soul. The touch of her hand on his felt oddly intimate.
“Don’t you ever have any fun, Jack?”
He tried to shrug off the feeling undulating through him, the one she seemed to be creating. “You mean I’m not having fun right now?”
The expression on her face told him she took his flippant remark seriously. “You are if you love your work.”
“I’m good at it.” There was no pride in his answer. It was just another fact.
Zooey shook her head. He could have sworn he detected a whiff of jasmine.
“Not what I said. Or asked.” Her eyes seemed to search his face. “Do you love your work, Jack?”
Love was too damn strong a word to apply to something like work, he thought. “When everything comes together, there is a surge of…something, yes.”
The answer did not satisfy her.
He was a hard man to pin down, she realized. She wondered if he knew that, or if this verbal jousting was unintentional.
“A ‘surge’ isn’t love, Jack.” Zooey’s voice softened a little and she leaned forward to smooth down his collar. “Love is looking forward to something. To thinking about it when you don’t have to because you want to. Love is anticipation. And sacrifice.”
She was standing too close, he thought. He was standing too close. But stepping back would seem almost cowardly. So he stood his ground and wondered what the hell was going on. And why. “For a single woman you seem to know a lot about love.”
“Don’t have to have a ring on your finger to know about love, Jack.” The smile on her lips seemed to somehow bring her even closer to him. “Do you know about love?”
Okay, now he knew where this was headed. She was trying to get him to spend more time at home. Which would have been fine—if somehow his work could do itself. But it couldn’t. “If you’re asking me if I love my children, yes, I love my children. I also don’t want them doing without things.”
Again she moved her head from side to side, her eyes never leaving his. Where did she get off, passing judgment? Telling him how to be a father when she’d never been a parent? The desire to put her in her place was very strong, almost as strong as the desire to take her in his arms and kiss her.
Exercising the extreme control he prided himself on, Jack did neither.
“The first thing they shouldn’t be doing without,” she told him softly, “is you.”
Okay, it was time to bail out. Now. “This conversation is circular.”
His harsh tone did not have the desired effect on her. “That’s because all roads lead to ‘Daddy.’”
Retreat was his only option. So with a shrug, Jack turned to leave.
“Wait,” Zooey cried, just as he crossed the threshold.
“Somebody else I forgot to say goodbye to?” he asked sarcastically. The woman was definitely getting under his skin and he needed to put distance between them. Before he did something that was going to cost him.
To his surprise, Zooey was dashing toward the living room. “No,” she called over her shoulder, “but you did forget something.” The next moment, she was back at the front door with his briefcase in her hands. She held it out to him with an amused smile on her face. “Here, you might need this.”
Jack wrapped his fingers around the handle, pulling it to him with a quick motion she hadn’t expected. The momentum had her jerking forward. And suddenly, there was absolutely no space between them. Not for a toothpick, not even for a sliver of air.
The foyer grew warmer.
Zooey could feel her heart accelerating just a touch as she looked up at him. Something threatened to melt inside her, as it always did when she stopped thinking of him as Emily and Jackie’s father, or her boss, and saw him at the most basic level—a very good-looking man who did, on those occasions when she let her guard drop, take her breath away.
It was so still, she could hear her pulse vibrating in her ears.
“Wouldn’t want you to go into the office without your briefcase,” she finally said, doing her best to sound glib. Not an easy feat when all the moisture had suddenly evaporated