that he noticed the curl of her eyelashes. âDonât tell me youâre planning on staying?â
âFor a while.â
She tensed. âHow long a while?â
âTill I accomplish what I set out to do.â
âDonât talk to me in riddles, okay?â She arranged the roses in the vase, added water and set the bouquet in the center of the old table. Christina hovered near the back door. âCan I do drawing?â she asked.
âGreat idea,â her mother replied, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. She reached for a pack of crayons on the counter, only to have her daughter turn up her little pug nose.
âI want to draw outside!â
âOutside?â
âWith the chalk.â
âWhy not?â Tiffany scrounged in a drawer filled with cards, pencils, keys, batteriesâanything a person could imagineâuntil she came up with a box of colored chalk.
Beaming, Christina snagged the prize from her motherâs outstretched hand and scurried out the back door. The screen slammed behind her as she rushed to plant herself on the cracked concrete patio, upon which she began to doodle in pink, yellow, green and blue.
Tiffany watched her daughter until she was engrossed in her task, then turned to face J.D. âSo, brother-in-law , to what or to whom do we owe the honor of your presence?â she demanded, then shook her head at the question. âNoââ she held out her hand as if to ward off his words ââlet me guess. Youâre here on a mission. Just checking up on your brotherâs widow. Trying to figure out if she really is the right kind of mother to raise Philipâs kids.â
Sheâd always been smart. Calculating. He leaned a hip against the center island. âIâm here on business.â That wasnât a lie. Well, not much of one.
âSure. Thatâs why youâre standing in my kitchen. With your bag. Come on, Jay, you can do better than that.â She closed the short distance between them, and a hint of her perfume teased his nostrils. It was the same fragrance sheâd worn the last time heâd seen her. Touched her. He gritted his teeth and decided it was time to take the offensive.
âBefore we get into all that, why donât you explain what you were doing with the juvenile authorities.â
âI donât really think itâs any of your business.â
âIsnât it?â
âI can handle my children,â she said with a cold smile. âNo matter what the rest of the Santini family thinks.â With a quick glance through the screen door to assure herself that her daughter was safely out of earshot, she lowered her voice. âI know what your father thought of me when I met Philip. I know he tried to convince Philip that I was a no-good, gold-digging woman who was barely an adult, one who looked at Philip as aâ¦a father figure,â she said, pain sweeping through her eyes.
You donât know the half of it , he thought with another stab of guilt.
âAnd I heard that you tried to talk Philip out of marrying me.â
The muscles in J.D.âs shoulders tensed. âCareful, Tiff,â he said. âI had my reasons.â
She flushed, and her eyes sparked with anger. For a second he thought she might slap him. âNone of them good, Jay,â she said through lips that barely moved. âNone of them good.â
âGood, no. Valid, yes.â
âPhilip and I had aâ¦a strong marriage.â Her chin inched up a notch as if she dared him to challenge her.
âIf it worked for you.â
âIt did.â
He bit back a sharp retort and stared down at her. His gaze lingered on her lips for a second before lowering to the neckline of her blouse, where her skin was flushed with anger, her pulse leaping at the base of her throat. His bad knee throbbed, his stupid crotch was suddenly tight, and he realized that he still wanted her. As he