just making her point. “I will,” Jenny said with as much conviction as she could summon.
“Jenny,” her sister said softly, “your record on running a profitable business is far from stellar. How many times have Mom and Dad had to bail—”
“Not this time,” she interrupted, remembering her failed vintage clothing shop, the coffee stand that had gone bust almost before it got started, and the secretarial job she’d lost because she’d misfiled a petition and the delay it caused had been costly. “Blue Sky Air is different. Besides, I have four months until the loan is due. I spoke with Mr. Howard at the bank, and everything is arranged. In a few months, when I show him how profits are up, I’ll be able to get a loan and repay Jared Worth.” She prayed she sounded more confident than she felt.
“Jenny . . .” The look on her sister’s face left little doubt as to what Anna thought of that statement.
“This time is different,” she said emphatically. She was different. Or, at least on her way to being different. Stronger. More determined.
“How’s the website coming?” Anna asked.
Jenny’s rocking chair came to a sudden halt. How was it Anna knew exactly where Jenny was most vulnerable? She struggled to find her voice, wanted to remind her sister of the new advertising plan she’d launched and the weekend getaway packages she had put together. But emotion clogged her throat, made it impossible for her to speak. The website. Like so many aspects of Blue Sky, the thought of returning to a project she and Steven had started all but crippled her.
“Fine,” Jenny lied, finally able to speak. Thankfully, Anna let the subject of the website drop.
“Paul said this partner of yours was in the same squadron as Steven.”
In the space of a day, her family had said Steven’s name more times than they had in the last nine months. After the accident, as if by some tacit agreement, her family, neighbors, and friends had avoided any mention of Steven whatsoever. It was as if they believed that by acting as if he never existed, somehow her pain would go away, and she would forget. But Jenny would never forget. Each time she climbed into his car, smelled his cologne, or remembered how his arms felt wrapped around her, her heart cracked a little bit more. That was something she had learned since losing Steven—a heart didn’t break all at once. It happened over time, bit by painful bit, until it completely shattered, leaving nothing left. Jenny could only pray that hers would shatter soon, because the pain was becoming more than she could bear.
“And here I thought you were done with flyboys. Is he at all like Steven?’
Like Steven.
The question took Jenny aback. She swallowed hard, fought to breathe. “No,” she said, her voice hollow and achy. “He’s nothing like Steven.”
For a moment the pain of losing him lifted, and she saw him in her mind. She saw his bright open smile, heard his laughter, felt the warmth of his breath as he whispered something into her ear. Whenever they went out, he was the life of the party, telling joke after joke in his loud, booming voice that captured everyone’s attention. He was as all-American as they came: handsome with his sandy blond hair and green eyes and a personality so open everyone loved him. Her most of all.
“Jenny? What’s this Jared like? Mother seemed quite impressed, and you know what it takes to impress her.”
Jenny tried to cling to the vision of Steven, but it drifted away, and another man took his place. She tried to block the image, but the effort was as futile as ignoring the man.
Against her will, her sister’s question kept coming back to her. What’s he like?
Honestly, she couldn’t think of a way to describe him. She knew if one of her girlfriends ever saw him, they’d sum him up in three words: raw sex appeal.
But Jenny needed only one: unsettling.
Everything about him unnerved her. He was tall, with hair as dark as the night sky. And his eyes . . . Eyes that blue should hold warmth, or at least a hint of softness. But there was nothing soft about Jared. There was a hard ruthlessness about him that hinted at a life she couldn’t understand, nor did she want to. Beneath that leather jacket, he wore a confidence like most men wore custom-made suits. And when he spoke, iron determination fortified his words.