Through Jenna's Eyes. KRISTI GOLD
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society divide, even if his financial situation had changed with his success.
When she made no move to take off her sunglasses, he said, “Feel free to get rid of the shades. I’ve been there before, so I’m not going to judge you.”
She wrung her hands together several times. “The light bothers my eyes.”
Man, he wouldn’t want to be her in the morning. “If you think it’s bad now, wait until tomorrow.”
“Why’s that?”
Obviously she’d never visited hangover central before, whereas, at one time, he’d been a frequent guest. “I take it you don’t drink too often.”
“No, I don’t. I’ve never cared that much for alcohol. I only have a glass of wine on occasion.”
That could explain her current state if she’d had more than a few tonight, but something still didn’t quite ring true for Logan. Her speech didn’t sound the least bit slurred. In fact, she sounded coherent. Probably one of the lucky ones who could drink and drown and still be able to fake sobriety.
When she grew silent again, Logan considered turning on the TV to watch the baseball game he’d recorded, but decided Ms. Fordyce didn’t look like a baseball fan. He suspected tennis was her game, if sports interested her at all. For that reason, he should probably ask what she preferred, and right when he was about to pose the question, the doorbell rang, indicating help had arrived.
Logan pushed off the sofa, strode to the entry and opened the door to his brother who had a duffel bag hanging on one shoulder and a wide-eyed toddler wearing red superhero pajamas braced on one hip.
He stepped aside to let them in. “You made good time.”
“The advantage of learning the fastest route when you’re on call,” Devin said. “Where’s the patient?”
“Right down the hall.”
When they reached the living room, Logan gestured toward his guest who had yet to acknowledge them. “Devin, this is Jenna Fordyce.”
When Devin moved in front of the chair, Jenna offered her hand and a smile, something she hadn’t done with Logan back at the bar. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Devin. I hope I’m not wasting your time.”
“Not a problem,” Devin said as he handed off Sean to Logan before taking Jenna’s hand for a brief shake. He pulled up an ottoman in front of the chair and set his bag in his lap. “Now, let’s take a look at that cut.”
Logan hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “While you’re doing that, I’ll take the kid into the kitchen and see if I can find him a cookie.”
Devin sent him a hard look. “Don’t give him more than one. If I bring him home on a sugar high, you and I both are going to have to answer to my wife.”
Logan had always considered his sister-in-law to be a reasonable woman, but he didn’t want to test her. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
After he entered the adjacent kitchen, Logan held Sean high above his head, eliciting a laugh from his nephew. “You’re getting heavy, bud,” he said as he brought him back down and set him on the counter. “I only have a chocolate-chip cookie, so I hope that’s okay.”
Sean answered with the single word, cookie, and a wide grin, indicating Logan was definitely speaking his language.
When he opened the cabinet, withdrew the cookie from the package and handed it to Sean, the kid squealed. One thing about it, toddlers could be easy to please, unlike several of the women Logan had known. One in particular. He wasn’t sure why he kept thinking about his former fiancée tonight. The answer to that was sitting in the next room, undergoing an exam by his brother. But aside from Helena’s and Jenna’s similar backgrounds, he recognized several differences between the two, at least when it came to the physical aspects. Then again, he didn’t plan to explore those differences. Once Devin was done doing his doctor thing, Logan would have Ms. Fordyce back at the family mansion in record time.
Sean finished the last bite of cookie and held out his hand, palm up, and wiggled his fingers. “More.”
“Not a good idea, bud.” Logan looked around for another form of entertainment and selected a wooden spoon sticking out from the jar holding utensils he rarely used. “How about practicing your batting swing with this? Just don’t hit me.”
Sean decided the spoon worked better as a drumstick and began pounding the cabinet without the least semblance of rhythm, spewing words that made little sense. But as long as it kept him happy, then that made Logan happy.
Remaining close to his nephew to prevent him from taking a spill, Logan leaned back against the counter and glanced at the pass-through opening that offered a view of the living room. Devin had taped up the cut with thin white strips and right then he was shining a penlight in her eyes. Logan could tell they were discussing something, but he couldn’t make out a word with Sean now pounding the metal canisters.
A few minutes later, his nephew grew tired of playing musician and insisted on being held. Logan scooped him up into his arms where Sean rested his cheek on his shoulder. At least Devin could go home and tell Stacy that Uncle Logan had succeeded in wearing the kid out by giving him a spoon.
A few minutes later, Devin walked into the kitchen, sporting a somber expression. “I don’t think she has a serious head injury, but someone needs to watch her tonight, in case she does have a slight concussion.”
And that proved to be a major problem. “No one’s at her house,” Logan said. “If you’re that worried, maybe she should be admitted to the hospital.”
“And maybe you should let her stay in your guest room.”
That wasn’t in accordance with Logan’s plan. “Not a good idea.”
Devin frowned. “I’ve never known you to refuse a good-looking woman in distress.”
“A drunk, good-looking woman who happens to be the kid of a billionaire client, and he sure as hell wouldn’t appreciate me spending the night with his daughter.”
Devin scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck and studied the floor. “She’s not drunk, Logan. She’s going blind.”
Chapter Two
For the past year, Jenna Fordyce had lived in a world of shadows and solitude, and at times excruciating pain, both physically and emotionally. Yet the one night she’d chosen to venture outside her safe haven to celebrate her best friend’s thirtieth birthday, she’d landed in a precarious situation—with a cut on her forehead and a possible concussion, being tended by an off-duty doctor in a strange man’s apartment.
An exclusive apartment, Jenna had decided the minute she’d walked into the elevator on Logan O’Brien’s arm. A very large apartment, she’d realized when they’d crossed the uncarpeted floor and she’d noticed the echo of their footsteps. She’d become skilled at discerning details by relying on other senses aside from sight, particularly sound. Right now she heard the murmur of low voices, and suspected she was most likely the topic of conversation. No doubt the doctor was informing his brother that she was practically blind, not under the influence.
The rapid shuffle of bare feet drew Jenna’s complete attention. A child’s feet, she decided, and confirmed that when she squinted against the light and saw a small figure standing before her, only a vague image viewed through the hazy film of her failing eyes. She felt the tiny hand resting on her wrist, and experienced the inherent maternal instinct that sent her arms open wide to welcome little Sean.
When he climbed into her lap and rested his cheek against her breast, Jenna laid her cheek on top of his head, inhaled his sweet after-bath scent, absorbed his warmth and turned her thoughts to another baby boy. The one who had recently been little more to her than a voice on the phone, a precious “I love you, Mommy,” to carry her through the lonely days and nights. The gift that kept her going. And hoping.