Her Millionaire, His Miracle. Myrna Mackenzie

that they cared about him that much or alarmed that she felt a rather childish urge to cross her heart and hope to die before she revealed Jeremy’s secrets.

      “Some things are just off-limits,” she said, which pretty much summed up her feelings about the whole situation and seemed to satisfy Donald. She wasn’t going to discuss Jeremy with anyone. She didn’t even want to think about Jeremy, and she absolutely did not want to explore her feelings about the day and this necessary but emotionally dangerous situation she was in.

      But when Donald had gone and Eden wandered inside, she was pleasantly surprised. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected to find, but there weren’t any visible traces of Jeremy. Just beautiful, old cottage-style furniture in cream and gold and cornflower-blue. Very comfortable and tasteful. Better quality than anything she had ever owned or ever would own but still homey.

      This is nice, she thought, until she opened a drawer on the nightstand and found a stack of old photos. Women. Well, much-younger women, that is. Many she recognized. Rich, gorgeous, the cream of the area. She knew what these were. Mementoes that had been given to Jeremy a long time ago. There was Lara Pettison wearing a skimpy skirt and a midriff top, grinning at the camera as if her expression was all for Jeremy. There was Mindy Tarrant in her cheerleading outfit with “Love ya, Jer. Really!” written on the border in purple ink with a purple kiss drawn next to the writing. For half a second, Eden was back in school, watching Jeremy walk away with a girl who wasn’t her. In the next second she wondered if Jeremy knew these were here. She felt like some kind of icky voyeur.

      “Does it matter?” she asked herself. “None of this has anything to do with you or your work.” Searching around for a box, she laid the photos carefully inside, then put it in the closet and closed the lid. There. She felt a childish sense of satisfaction, as if she had managed to put Jeremy in a box at last.

      Maybe she had.

      But in the next moment she heard sounds outside and looked out her open window. Jeremy was running past, a pair of runner’s shorts revealing strong, muscled thighs. His chest was bare. His broad shoulders glistened with sweat. He gave a quick wave but kept going.

      As she watched him moving away, Eden’s heart raced. Had she really thought she could ever be completely immune to this man’s physical appeal? What woman could?

      Her next thought was that she wondered that he could run, given his situation, but he appeared to be doing just that. And moving quickly, too. She remembered him telling her that he did all he could though his sight was failing.

      Reckless, she thought. Driven. Still wild. Still dangerous.

      Tomorrow she was going to attack her work with a vengeance. She was going to do all that she could. Staying here too long couldn’t be good for her. She was, literally, sleeping in Jeremy’s bed, and the very thought made her tremble.

      “Blinders, Byars,” she told herself. “Some people can’t handle cigarettes or alcohol or food. You can’t seem to choose or handle men very well.”

      It was time to do what she had learned to do best. Move beyond the bad, threatening things in her life. If she could just survive Jeremy one more time, everything would be fine. Surely she could do that, couldn’t she?

      Yes, darn it. But handling things was easier when a person was fully prepped. Information made good armor, so tomorrow she would go hunting. She hoped she’d find something useful.

      CHAPTER THREE

      THE woman was prompt. He had to give her that, Jeremy thought, when he came downstairs for breakfast the next day.

      “Ms. Byars is in your library,” his housekeeper told him. “She said to let you know that she has questions when you have some time.”

      He immediately put down his napkin. “Show her in.”

      In less than a minute, Eden was in the doorway. “Have you eaten?” he asked her. He’d had the cottage stocked.

      “Just coffee. I’ve never been a breakfast person.”

      Because her family hadn’t been able to afford much food when she was younger, he would guess. She still was almost too slender. “Mind if I am?”

      She tilted her head inquisitively.

      “A breakfast person,” he explained.

      “Oh. No. This can wait.”

      He shook his head. “Sit. We’ll talk. I have a meeting in an hour.”

      Immediately Eden moved into the room, but off to one side where his peripheral vision was best, Jeremy couldn’t help but notice. The temptation to turn so that he was facing her more directly warred with his need to see her better. He had a strong desire to form a full picture of what Eden looked like now. Which was alarming. Eden might have that cool, forthright exterior, but he sensed emotion and complexity beneath the surface. Given his situation and his priorities, that meant she was one woman he needed to keep in a compartment. Business. All business.

      “Sit,” he said again, a bit too forcefully.

      She sat where he directed her, beside him where Mrs. Ruskin had had the maid put an extra place setting. Some people might think he was being overly personal having her sit next to him rather than across from him, but he hated explaining. He turned to get the best view, focusing his full attention on her.

      Her response was immediate. She sat up taller, then went totally still, almost rigid. He got the feeling that while Eden might need this job, she wasn’t too thrilled about working with him. He remembered what she’d said about having had a crush on him. No doubt she regretted having admitted that.

      “I’ve been reading,” Eden rushed in. “I understand the basics, the fact that this condition usually manifests itself earlier in life than it has with you, the fact that it’s genetic and that you have a sensitivity to light and only your peripheral version remains untouched.”

      Ah, so he didn’t have to explain why she was beside him and that he wasn’t some lech trying to rub knees with her. And yet…she’d made the comment as if she had read his mind. Had he revealed any emotion? Demonstrated any awkwardness or weakness? If so, he would have to watch that. Visible chinks in the armor were unacceptable.

      “That’s right. If you were in front of me this close, parts of you would be blurry, but at this angle I can see that you’ve pulled your hair back, you have dangling earrings and you’re wearing a blouse with contrasting buttons. The top one is open.”

      Those big gray eyes flew open wide. Jeremy suppressed a smile. “Sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t help noticing, but I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

      She lifted her chin, her color high. “No, that’s all right. It helps me to know what the situation is, and I really do need to understand, but…”

      He waited. The tension emanating from her was palpable, practically electric. His fingers itched to touch and soothe. With effort he restrained himself.

      “Is that how you’re able to run?”

      Without thought, he turned toward her even though she blurred a bit more. “Partially, yes. I can see part of the ground and things at the edge. What I can’t see is what’s too far ahead, but the estate is familiar territory and the grounds are well kept. I don’t have to worry about hazards or holes or traffic.”

      “I’ve had students who were runners. You have a nice form. I mean—”

      He held up his hand to stop her. “I know what you meant. You don’t have to watch your words or worry that I’ll misread anything you say. I think we’ve established that whatever lay in our past is in the past and this is just business. While I find you attractive, I’m not going to jump you.”

      For a second she looked startled. “I never thought you would. And…I wouldn’t jump you, either. That is—”

      He smiled. “It’s okay, Eden.”