Through Jenna’s Eyes Page 2

  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.

  “Nothing like making yourself right at home in the lady’s lap, Sean.”

  Devin O’Brien’s voice, Jenna determined. She’d immediately found an affinity with the caring doctor. The jury was still out on the doctor’s hardcase brother. “He’s not bothering me, at all, Devin.”

  “That’s because he’s finally tired.”

  When Devin lifted Sean from her lap, Jenna wanted to ask him to wait a few more minutes. To give her a little more time to fill her empty arms and heart. She slid her glasses back into place, this time to hide the threatening tears. “May I go home now?”

  “You’re going to stay here with me tonight.” Logan’s commanding voice made Jenna bristle. “That’s not necessary.”

  “Doctor’s orders,” Devin added in a more even tone. “Logan told me you’d be spending the night alone, and we’d both feel better if you had some company, in case you have any problems from the injury.”

  Maybe Devin would feel better, but Jenna doubted Logan shared that opinion. He probably wished she’d never had the bouncer call for a driver. Frankly, she wished she’d called a cab, which she could still do now.

  She took a moment to weigh her options, all two of them. She could insist on going home and hope for the best, or stay and know someone would be there if she did suffer latent effects from the fall. She’d fought hard to maintain as much independence as possible, but under the current circumstances, she had no choice but to give up some of that hard-won freedom. The price she had to pay for taking a foolish risk. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

  “Good,” Devin said. “And you don’t have to worry about Logan. He has a guest room upstairs, and he’s a decent guy. Although, I’m much better looking.”

  “And married, Dev. Now, go home to your wife.”

  Logan’s tone held a touch of amusement, something he evidently reserved for family members only, Jenna decided. He certainly hadn’t sounded the least bit amused since the moment he’d become her reluctant escort. “Thanks for everything, Devin.”

  “You’re welcome. Tell Jenna good-night, Sean.”

  “Night, night,” came the childlike voice, followed by a soft baby kiss on her cheek, filling Jenna with more yearning and more memories. “Good night, sweetie. Sleep tight.”

  She listened with longing to Sean’s toddler babble and the brotherly banter as the trio left the room. But when she heard the final goodbyes and the closing door in the distance, she was overcome with a solid case of jitters.

  Logan O’Brien made her nervous, and it wasn’t due to his imposing height; she was much shorter than most men. It wasn’t even the edge in his voice, or his stoic demeanor. His overt, man-in-control attitude made her wary. Many a woman might be drawn to that take-charge aura, but she didn’t intend to count herself among them.

  “We need to talk.”

  The deep timbre of Logan’s voice startled Jenna, causing her hand to flutter to her throat. “I didn’t realize you were back.”

  She heard the scrape of furniture immediately before Logan came somewhat into view. “I’m right here. Now, explain to me why you didn’t tell me you can’t see.”

  Logan O’Brien pulled no punches, and normally Jenna would find that refreshing. But not necessarily in this instance. “I don’t usually greet strangers with ‘Hi, my name’s Jenna Fordyce. I’m as blind as that proverbial bat.’”

  “That only accounts for our initial meeting, not for the rest of the time we’ve been together,” he said. “Try again.”

  She wasn’t certain how to explain, aside from handing him the truth. “Tonight was the first time I’ve been out of the house for months, socially speaking. I wanted to be viewed as normal, and spared the usual pity.” At least for a while.

  “How long have you been this way?”

  “A total recluse or a sassy pants, as my mother used to say?” Before her mother had been taken from her, when Jenna had just turned thirteen.

  He released an impatient sigh. “How long have you had problems with your vision?”

  Longer than she cared to recall. “I was diagnosed with a form of corneal dystrophy when I was in my early teens. At first,
it wasn’t too bad, aside from the eye infections, but I’ve always known it would continue to progress.”

  “Exactly how much can you see?”

  “Not much. It’s a little like looking through shattered, cloudy glass. Everything’s distorted. I can see shapes, but no real details. Or I can when I’m not wearing sunglasses.”

  He reached up and pulled the shades away, something Jenna preferred he hadn’t done. Since Devin had dimmed the lights earlier, she wasn’t too concerned over her photosensitivity. She was worried about how her eyes would appear to him.

  “Can you see me better now?” he asked.

  “I can tell you’re sitting in front of me, but that’s about it.”

  “And there’s not one damn procedure in this day and time that will help you?”

  He sounded as frustrated as Jenna often felt, and she found that remarkable, coming from a man she’d just met. “A corneal transplant is the only cure.”

  “And that involves finding a donor,” he said.

  “Yes. I’ve been waiting over a year. Of course, if it were up to my father, he’d try to buy a set of corneas. Or at the very least, wield his influence to have me moved up on the list.”

  “But you won’t let him.”

  She shook her head. “That wouldn’t be fair. I’ve spent a good deal of my life as a sighted person when there are people waiting who’ve never had that advantage. Some are even children. They should be first in line.”

  “That’s an admirable attitude.”

  She shifted slightly. “Before you start thinking I’m ready for sainthood, you have to understand that having a transplant isn’t something I take lightly. Sometimes it scares me to think about it. But I’m willing to wait.” Wait for someone to die in order to see, a fact Jenna tried not to dwell on. If she had only herself to consider, she would accept her limitations and forget the procedure. She’d use her cane all the time and consider finding a guide dog. But she had a three-and-a-half-year-old son counting on her, even if several hundred miles had separated them for the past few months.

  “If you have the transplant, your vision will be restored completely?” Logan asked.

  “That’s what I’m hoping.” Although, she would also be facing possible tissue rejection and the chance that the disease could return in a few years’ time following the transplant.

  “That’s got to be tough. I can’t imagine not being able to see.”

  “I’ve learned to compensate by thinking about what I’ll do when I can see again.” Being able to care for her child was top priority. “In the meantime, I have to rely on developing mental portraits using other senses. I’ll demonstrate, if you’ll let me touch you.”

  “Oh, yeah?” She could hear the smile in his voice.

  Jenna released a shaky laugh when she realized how suggestive that sounded. “I meant, I want to touch your face to get a better idea of what you look like, if that’s okay.”

  “What if you’re disappointed?”

  She shrugged. “Honestly, IVe learned that true character has nothing to do with physical attractiveness. I just like to have a frame of reference.”

  “Then, go ahead,” he said. “Touch away.”

  Jenna was a little unnerved by the provocative quality of his voice, but not enough to discourage her. “My depth perception is nonexistent, so you’re going to have to help me. I’ll start with your hair and work my way down.”

  When she held out her hands and closed her eyes, he placed her hands on either side of his temples. She feathered her fingertips through his hair—a nice, thick head of hair. “You’re definitely not going bald.”

  “Not that I’ve noticed.”

  “What color is your hair?” she asked.

  “Black.”

  He had the “tall” and “dark” down, and the time had come to verify the “handsome.” Jenna began by outlining his forehead with her fingertips before brushing her thumbs over his brows. “What about your eyes?”

  “They’re blue.”

  Her artistic nature took over. “Sky-blue? Aqua-blue? Cobalt?”

  “I’ve never thought about it before. I guess, sky-blue.” He sounded somewhat self-conscious, and .Tenna found that endearing coming from such a macho guy.

  “Most people take the details for granted,” she said, though she never had. “That’s quite a striking contrast, black hair and light-blue 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.