Free Heartsong by Debbie Macomber Page B

clothes when the phone rang.
    “Hello,” she said cheerfully, expecting Peggy.
    “Good afternoon,” Jordan responded.
    Instantly her heartbeat accelerated. She needed to explain yesterday’s outburst, and it wasn’t going to come easy. She so seldom lost her temper like that.
    “Hello, Jordan.” She hardly knew where to start. “I’m glad you phoned … I feel I owe you an apology.”
    “Good.” His crisp voice seemed to mock her. “I’ll take you to lunch, and you can tell me all about it. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
    The connection was broken, and Skye was left listening to the hum of the dial tone. Skye shrugged. He hadn’t even asked her. Jordan Kiley could be the most infuriating man. What if she had already made plans for the afternoon? She often did with her niece, Janey. Apparently any arrangements she’d made were of no consequence. She wasn’t angry, but bemused. Jordan’s personality was commanding and forceful, as if he was accustomed to giving orders and having them followed. What an enigmatic man he was.
    The doorbell rang well within the allotted twenty minutes. His smile was warm and lazy when she opened the door.
    “Are you ready?”
    “Ready?” Her round blue eyes feigned ignorance.
    “I thought we were going out to eat.” His gaze narrowed slightly.
    “I don’t remember your asking,” she said matter-of-factly.
    Catching a glimpse of the table set for two in her tiny kitchenette, Jordan expelledhis breath. “You’re expecting someone.” It wasn’t a question but a statement of fact.
    “Yes, I am. You.”
    His gaze swiveled back to her, his thick brows knit in confusion.
    “If you’d have asked me, Jordan, I’d have told you I had a meal ready in the Crock-Pot. You’re welcome to join me if you like.”
    He seemed to relax. Had the suspicion she was expecting someone else bothered him? The pleasure this bit of evidence brought overrode any sense of outrage at his presumptuous behavior.
    His free hand gently caressed the soft flesh of her upper arm before he placed a tender kiss on her forehead.
    “I’ll be right back. I have a car and driver waiting.”
    Skye watched him leave. She didn’t know what it was about his touch that brought her senses to life. A kiss, the feather-light stroke of his hand, gave her undeniable pleasure.
    Steaming bowls of Irish stew had been placed on the table by the time he returned. The smell of fresh sourdough bread filled the apartment as she drew it from the oven.
    “Lunch is ready,” she said, feeling awkward.
    Once they were seated, Jordan paused, waiting for Skye to begin eating.
    “Do you mind if we pray?” she asked unsteadily.
    He arched his brows expressively. “I suspect you want more than the prayer my father taught me.” His eyes were smiling. “You know the one:
Good bread, good meat, good God, let’s eat
.”
    Skye couldn’t help laughing. “Yes, I guess I do.”
    “You do the honors then.”
    Skye bowed her head, her hands folded. “Father, thank you for this meal and for abundantly supplying all our needs. Bless Jordan and the time we spend together. In Your precious name. Amen.”
    When she lifted her head, she discovered Jordan was watching her intently, and she shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny.
    “Before we eat,” she began haltingly, “I think I’d feel a whole lot better if I could explain about yesterday.”
    The smiling sparkle returned to his smoky gray eyes. “Bothers you, does it?”
    She lowered her gaze, pretending to study the thick bowl of stew. “The car breaking down was a culmination of several other things. I’d had a rather disconcerting conversation with my sister-in-law, and I got caught in that cloudburst … and, well, Ifeel I overreacted. I don’t often blow up like that, and …”
    He reached across the small table and gently squeezed her trembling hand. “It’s forgotten. Feel better?”
    She smiled and nodded.
    “I have to admit, however, the thought of