Through Jenna's Eyes

“My mother’s half Armenian, and my father’s Irish. I’m a mix of both.”

“Interesting.” And so was his nose that she now examined. When she contacted a slight indentation on the right side of the bridge, she asked, “What happened here?”

“I jumped out of an airplane and landed on my face.”

“Seriously?” she asked around her shock.

He released a low, sexy laugh. “I got hit by a pitch when I was up to bat during a high-school baseball game. I thought the skydiving thing sounded more interesting.”

She wasn’t surprised he’d been a jock, but she was taken aback by his sudden show of humor. She wasn’t surprised by the strength of his jaw, covered by whiskers that lightly abraded her palms, but the creases along his cheeks threw her a bit. “You have dimples.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

She smiled. “Unfortunately? Women love dimples. It gives a man a boyish quality.”

“If you say so,” he said with extreme skepticism.

While she traced his full lips with a fingertip, Jenna put all the finer points together, creating a mental sculpture that probably wouldn’t do justice to the real thing. But she’d discerned enough to know that he was definitely attractive.

And absolutely masculine, she realized when she ran her fingers over his prominent Adam’s apple and down his corded neck that ended beneath stretchy knit. “You’re wearing a T-shirt.” She dropped her hands to his thighs. “And jeans.” She found his foot with her own foot and gave it a nudge. “Boots, but not the cowboy kind. Hiking boots. You’re an outdoorsman. Do you like to hike?”

“Yeah. Hiking and camping. But with the job, I haven’t been in a few years.”

Her mind wandered back to a better time, a better place, when she’d still had her sight. “I used to hike quite a bit when I was younger.”

“How old are you now?”

Although his query was abrupt, and some might say inappropriate, Jenna liked his no-holds-barred attitude. It certainly beat having people view her as too fragile. “I turned thirty last month. And you?”

“Thirty-four.”

She hid an unexpected yawn behind her hand. “Now that I’ve gotten to know you better, I suppose I can comfortably spend the night with you.”

“Are you ready to go to bed now?”

She grinned. “I don’t know you that well.”

He cleared his throat. “I meant, are you ready for me to show you to the guest room.”

“I’m teasing. I knew what you meant. You go to your bed, I go to mine.”

“When you put it that way, it doesn’t sound too damn appealing, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

The sudden onset of silence was heavy, almost stifling. The undeniable tension passing between them required no visual confirmation, only instinct. And Jenna had always had good instincts, even before she’d lost her vision. But as much as she would like to throw caution aside, maybe offer Logan O’Brien a little encouragement, her intuition warned her to back off, before she made another mistake tonight.

When she realized she still had one hand planted on Logan’s thigh, she drew it back as if she’d suffered an electrical jolt. In many ways, she had. “Does your guest room happen to have a TV?”

“Just a bed. I don’t have many guests.”

At least not any guests that required their own bed, Jenna surmised. “Do you have a TV in here?”

“A forty-two-inch plasma. Why?”

Of course he would ask that question. Why would a blind woman be interested in something she couldn’t see? “I like to have a TV turned on when I go to bed. The sound helps me sleep.”

“I know what you mean. I usually fall asleep watching sports right here in the living room.”

“Then the living room it is. Just show me to the sofa and turn on the TV.”

He took her hand and helped her to her feet. “I’ll make a deal with you. Since I’ve been instructed by my brother to keep an eye on you, you can have the sofa and I’ll sleep in the lounger.”

“You really don’t have to do that. I’m feeling fine. No nausea. No dizziness.” Not exactly true. Knowing he was so close made her a little light-headed.

“Look, Jenna, unless you’re going to trust me enough to sleep in the same bed with you, then you’re going to have to deal with me staying in the living room so I can watch you.”

She wasn’t certain she could trust herself to sleep in the same bed with him. “Okay, but you don’t have to watch me all night.”

He ran a fingertip along her cheek. “I have no problem watching you all night.”

Jenna experienced a rush of inexplicable heat and a round of regret that she couldn’t see him. But she’d felt the softness of his touch, sensed his gaze and, for the first time in a long time, felt like a normal—and desirable—woman.

Jenna Fordyce was one hell of a stubborn woman, something Logan had discovered when she’d rejected his offer to assist her while she got ready for bed. Right now she was in the downstairs half bath putting on the T-shirt he’d loaned her, while he waited outside the door, hoping she didn’t fall again. And that was probably just as well. Watching her dress was a bad idea.

Her earlier exploration had brought about a physical reaction that he couldn’t ignore. He also couldn’t discard her attitude about her condition, which had been nothing short of amazing. He was having a hard time ignoring her, period.

Still, he didn’t particularly like that she’d failed to tell the truth about her vision problems and he couldn’t help but wonder what else she might be hiding. He hated deception of any kind, even more so due to his ex-fiancée’s betrayal. But after Jenna had explained her reasons for not telling him the truth, he’d understood her motivation on some level. He didn’t understand why he was so damned attracted to her. Of course, she was a great-looking woman, but that wasn’t all. He admired her need for independence and appreciated her insecurities. She might have been robbed of her sight, but she probably saw a lot more than most people who had twenty-twenty vision. She’d definitely seen more in him than most women, without evening knowing what he looked like.

And that pretty much answered his question. Throw all those traits into the mix, and you had a remarkable woman wrapped up in a petite package. Regardless, his post-Helena burn had yet to heal, and the last thing he wanted was another female complication. Jenna Fordyce didn’t strike him as a one-night-stand kind of girl, and, lately, that’s all that had interested him. No commitments. No promises. Nothing that even remotely resembled a steady relationship.

He also didn’t need Jenna hurting herself again, exactly what Logan feared she’d done when a clattering sound filtered through the closed door. He rapped his knuckles on the facing and called, “Are you okay in there?” And if she didn’t answer in two seconds, he was going to break down the door.

“I’m fine,” she said. “I dropped the toothbrush in the sink and knocked over the toothpaste.”

At least she hadn’t dropped onto the floor. “Do you need anything?”

“Not unless you happen to have some eye-makeup remover.”

He very well could. But he was tempted to deny it in order to avoid having to explain. Then again, if she really needed it, he should give it to her. “Are you decent?”

“That’s debatable, but you can come in.”

Logan opened the door to find her wearing the threadbare T-shirt that hit her midthigh, standing in front of the mirror and rubbing a washcloth over her face. Ignoring the clothes piled on the marble counter—including a skimpy lace bra—he strode to the vanity, opened the drawer, pulled out the metallic-gold makeup bag and rifled through it. And he’d be damned if he didn’t find exactly what she was looking for.

He withdrew the blue bottle and put in her hand. “Here you go. Eye-makeup remover.”

She frowned. “Is there something you’re not telling me about yourself, Logan?”