Kiss Across Chaos (Kiss Across Time #10) - Tracy Cooper-Posey Page 0,61

the invention of the camera and records that capture images, it has grown increasingly more dangerous. Becoming a public figure and having our faces out there is something we’ve sought to avoid.”

Jesse crossed her arms. “That must have made Brody’s rock-star days interesting for you.”

Veris laughed. “That it did. The makeup and hair and attitude were enough to misdirect most people, although I’m not glad those days are gone.” He said it with a frank air. “We’ve spent the last two and a bit decades trying to drill this into our kids, Jesse.”

She jumped. A little. She held herself still and drew in a calming breath. “That fame is dangerous? It shows. Aran is allergic to the limelight.”

“He told you that?” Veris’ tone was casual. There was no interrogation in his voice.

“He didn’t have to,” Jesse said. “Do you have any doubts that if he’d chosen the front end of politics, he wouldn’t one day end up in the Whitehouse? Instead, he’s a lobbyist, where there’s zero glamour and all the cameras are pointed away from him.”

Veris studied her. “I know Aran can achieve anything he puts his mind to. He’s his father’s son. The other father, I mean.” He smiled. “The one whose blood he shares, along with Taylor’s…and it shows.”

His pride in Aran shone in his eyes, just for that one little moment, stealing Jesse’s breath. She knew Veris had lowered the guard enough to let her see it and she was dazzled as well as breathless. She was also warmed by his revelation.

Then the thought struck her and she pressed her fingers to her temple. “That’s why you brought me up here, isn’t it? You thought that if I wanted the…the fame, then you had to warn me.” She dropped her hand. “Me,” she repeated. “You think it’s dangerous for me to become well-known, too.”

Veris crossed his arms, but it was just a relaxed thing to do with his arms. There wasn’t the usual defensiveness in the pose. “You’re part of this family, Jesse. You’ve been touched by time and with each passing year, you’re becoming more entwined in it. For now, you’re human and have a human life that is documented and withstands scrutiny. A little of it, at least. Somewhere in the future, that will no longer be the case and then, notoriety will become a deadly enemy to you.”

Jesse held still, even though her heart abruptly began to race, again. “You know what is in my future?” she breathed.

“I can see the shape of it,” Veris said, his tone gentle. “Not the details, but the direction.” His gaze was steady.

He knew about Aran and her. Something in what she’d said, a wrong note, or maybe Aran’s scent clung to her…something had given her away.

Jesse cleared her throat. “I wish I was as certain as you,” she whispered.

Veris stood. “Nothing is ever that certain,” he replied. “Except, perhaps, your hunger.”

Her belly grumbled.

“There. See?” He raised a brow.

Jesse put her hand to her belly. She couldn’t help the weak laugh that escaped her. “It’s been a very long day so far,” she admitted.

“I’m sure,” Veris said, which was unusually diplomatic of him. “If you’re certain you don’t want to court the hellhounds out there, then we should head back to Canmore.”

“I shouldn’t impose.”

“The media are imposing. You’re invited. Speaking of which…” He lifted the phone. “You go ahead. I need to let the Chief know we have no intention of speaking to the media and he can discourage them all he wants.”

He turned back to the window.

Jesse made her way back down to the sunroom in the middle of the house, wondering what Aran and Taylor were talking about. Was it as unsettling, as oddly comforting, as her conversation with Veris?

Chapter Fourteen

Aran watched Jesse climb the stairs up to the suite of rooms over the garage. He could read her reluctance in the tautness of her shoulders and the steady pace of her steps.

“Move away from the fireplace, Aran,” his mother told him. “I’m not expecting anyone, but jumpers rarely call ahead.”

Aran stepped closer to the sofa, as Taylor settled on the far end of it and put the mail she had been holding on the central cushion. She settled back in the corner, looking relaxed and casually chic, which Aran found a discomforting thought to have about his mother.

Only she didn’t feel like “Mom”. Not anymore. The last time he’d been in the room with her, which was, shit, over a year ago… He paused