Karen Rose - Have You Seen Her?

Seth sat next to her on the couch. "I'm not worried about the car."

Jenna raised a brow. "You are so full of it."

"Okay," he amended. "I was a little worried about the car."

Jenna nodded. "Just so we're square."

Seth smiled and shook his head. "Such a mouth on you, girl." His smile faltered. "Such grandchildren the two of you would have made."

Jenna's stomach turned upside down. She closed her eyes for a brief moment and reminded herself she was over this. "I'm missing him tonight, Dad," she whispered.

Seth swallowed. "Me, too, Jenna. That's why I came to see you. I always feel a little closer to Adam when I'm with you."

She patted his arm and for the second time that day tried to remember Adam as he'd been when he was healthy. For the second time that day she failed. She pushed herself to her feet, suddenly feeling guilty for having sexual thoughts about Steven Thatcher when she couldn't even remember Adam's face clearly. The guilt was irrational. She knew it in her head. But that made no difference to her heart. There was, of course, one primary solution for guilt. "I was going to have ice cream for dinner. Want some?"

"You really need to have better nutrition, Jenna." Seth stood up. "Butter pecan is my favorite."

"It's Rocky Road."

Seth pushed her hair behind her ear and smiled. Looking into his kind face, so like Adam's, Jenna finally conjured a mental snapshot of a healthy Adam. Somehow that made her feel better, being able to remember the face of the only man she'd ever loved. Seth cleared his throat. "Like I said, Rocky Road is my favorite."

Jenna swallowed hard and leaned her forehead against Seth's shoulder. "I love you, Dad."

Seth's arms came around her, hard and strong. "Love you, too, Jenna." He let go and tilted up her chin. "So tell me about the not-so-young man who's almost as handsome as me. And please don't make me go to Mrs. Kasselbaum for all the details." He leaned forward and whispered, "Don't tell anyone, but that woman is a terrible gossip."

Jenna hiccuped a laugh. "Last one to the kitchen has to eat the top layer with all the ice."

Friday, September 30, 8:30 P.M.

"Steven, you need to eat," Helen said from the kitchen doorway.

Steven set his briefcase by the front door and followed his aunt to the kitchen where a single hot plate of food waited. Helen poured herself a cup of coffee and sat in the chair across from him.

"Eat."

A ghost of a smile pulled at his mouth at the barked command. "Yes'm." Dutifully he ate while she watched, her eagle eye trained on every bite he put in his mouth.

"You were late tonight," she observed, her voice gone softer.

He nodded, swallowing. "I had an appointment with one of Brad's teachers."

"Oh, dear."

"Yeah." His fork drew an aimless design in his gravy-laden mashed potatoes. He looked up to find Helen patiently waiting. "He's failing chemistry, Helen. His teacher wanted me to know."

Helen closed her eyes and sighed. "What's happening to our boy, Steven?"

He kneaded his browbone. "I don't know. Jenna recommended I see his guidance counselor."

"And will you?"

"I'll call him first thing Monday morning." He shrugged, feeling utterly helpless and hating the feeling. "I tried to talk to Brad, but he shut me out."

"I know." Helen reached across the table to squeeze his hand and they held on quietly until she asked, "So who is Jenna?"

Steven's fingers tightened on his fork. His face was turning red, he could feel it. He damned the involuntary response that was the curse of redheads and he damned the light that came on in his aunt's matchmaking eyes. He pulled his left hand from Helen's. "Brad's teacher," he muttered, dropping his eyes to his potatoes.

"I see."

"No, you don't see anything, Helen," he ground out. "She is a nice woman who cares about my son. She stayed late on a Friday afternoon to tell me he was failing her class. That's all."

"Okay."

He glanced up to find her expression serene. Chills went down his spine. Extreme measures were called for. "She's married, okay? She's sixty and married with four children." He'd confess the lie whenever he made it back to church.

Helen sighed in resignation. "Do you really have to go back out tonight?" she asked, changing the subject.

Steven thought of the Egglestons. "Yes," he answered. "I do. I should be home before midnight, though. I read Nicky a story and put him to bed already." Which meant tucking his baby into a sleeping bag on the floor. Since being abducted from his bed in the middle of the night six months before, Nicky had refused to sleep in his own bed. The counselors said Nicky would return to his bed in his own time. He wondered what the counselors would say about Brad.

"Then eat your dinner, Steven."

He ate the rest of his dinner in silence, trying to ignore his aunt's watchful stare. Truth be told, he loved her more than any other woman in the world. He could tell her fifty times a day he never planned to marry again and it was like talking to the wind. But Helen loved him and loved all his boys dearly. At the end of every argument it always came back to that.

He cleaned his plate. "Thanks, Helen. That beats dinner out of a sack any day of the week."

"Do you want any more? I made plenty."

Steven stood up and pecked her weathered cheek. "No, ma'am. I wouldn't want to get fat."

Helen had the good grace to look embarrassed before she laughed aloud. "I'm going to have to teach that son of yours when to keep his big mouth shut."

He arched a brow. "You can try." He got to the front door and stopped short. "Shit."

"Steven!" Then she saw it too. "Oh, no. Cindy Lou!" She ran to the door and pulled the hundred-pound sheepdog away from Steven's briefcase. "She didn't mean to, Steven."

With a grimace, Steven fetched a towel from the kitchen and cleaned the dog drool from the handle. "Look at these teeth marks! That dog's a menace."

"She's a sweet dog." Helen's lips twitched. "She just has overactive drool glands."

"So get her a glandectomy." He wiped the bag, then cleaned his hands. "I need to go now."

She followed him to the driveway, the drooling ball of hair from hell in tow. "Drive carefully."

"I always do." He opened the rear passenger door and stopped short again. "Shit," he repeated, this time in a whisper.

"I heard that," Helen said from behind him, then peered around him to peek inside the car. "Whose briefcase is that?"

He could feel his cheeks heating again. "It belongs to Brad's teacher."

Helen was quiet for a half beat. "Jenna?"

Steven rolled his eyes, damning his own slip of the tongue. "Yes, Jenna." He should return it, he thought. He should return it to that comfortable little apartment of hers where she was probably sitting on that soft brown sofa with her two dogs at her feet. She'd be grateful , he thought. She'd smile up at him with those violet eyes. And those full lips. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, but it was too late. His body had already responded to the image his mind had conjured. He pulled her briefcase from the backseat with a harder jerk than necessary.

He put the bag in Helen's arms and she stumbled a little from the unexpected weight. "Put it in my study. I'll return it to her on Sunday."

"But-"

"I need to get to the office." He put his briefcase in the backseat and slammed the car door.

Helen winced. "But-"

He climbed into the front seat, pulling his seat belt on with one motion. "Don't wait up. I'll see you tomorrow." He pulled out of his driveway and chanced a look back in his rearview mirror. Helen stood in the same place, her mouth slightly open, watching him drive away.

Steven grimaced. He probably could have handled that with more finesse. He shifted his body in the car seat, trying to relieve the pressure against his zipper. It was stupid, just plain foolish. Jenna Marshall had a nice pair of legs. That was all. No, that wasn't nearly all. Her breasts were nice, too. His hands gripped the steering wheel, hard. And her rear end. He cracked his window to let in some of the cool night air. And her eyes. And her smile. He shifted in the seat again, the pressure unabated. Okay, he could admit it to himself. She was a tidy little package. He was… attracted to her.