Jess hesitated but eventually did as he said. What would it hurt to spend a few minutes with him as she enjoyed a refreshing lemonade that someone had worked so hard to prepare?
The question seemed to mock her when Jordan came to sit next to her on the wicker settee. He looked so handsome out in the bright sun. His collar was undone; the sleeves of his dress shirt had been rolled up above his elbows. Curse the man for being the most appealing one she’d ever encountered. And the scent of him, now so familiar yet still oh-so-tempting.
His body next to hers sent a wave of warmth over her skin and she took another long, deep gulp of her drink to try and cool down. It didn’t help in the least.
“I guess we should talk about a schedule for Sonya’s art lessons.”
Jordan cleared his throat. “About that. I wanted to run an idea by you.”
“What sort of idea?”
“I was thinking about what you said about Sonya perhaps benefitting from an art therapist.”
Something in his tone sent alarm bells ringing in her head. “I’m listening.”
“I think it might be good for her to work with one at some point.”
She took another swig of her drink. “I don’t disagree. But what’s that got to do with me?”
“I wanted to ask you if you’d be interested in pursuing it yourself. As a career. I’ve done some research. With your background as an instructor, it shouldn’t take much time for you to become certified. Of course, I’d be taking care of the costs and fees associated with the training, as well as tuition for the required classes. As a potential future employer, that is.”
Jess felt the anger slam into her chest like a spear. “Just to be clear—you’re offering to pay to have me trained and licensed as an art therapist. So that I can come work for you in that capacity at some point.”
He nodded once. “That’s exactly right. I wouldn’t expect Sonya to be your only client. We can negotiate—”
She didn’t let him continue. Slamming the glass so hard down on the table that a resounding thud echoed through the air, she stood and whirled around to directly face him.
“Damn you, Jordan Paydan. Damn you for doing this. How do you still not get it?”
He blinked up at her from his seated position in horrified shock. The look did nothing to assuage her ire. “I beg your pardon?”
“For you to turn my feelings against me this way.”
“What in the world are you talking about? My offer has nothing to do with your feelings. You said yourself you’re looking to find a new direction. This seems like a win-win for all.”
“Does it? Because from where I’m standing it seems to be a way for you to keep me nearby but still at arm’s length.”
He bolted up and reached her in two strides. “That’s ridiculous.”
She ignored his denial and jabbed a finger against his chest, trying desperately not to notice how hard and muscular he felt. “Is it? And what about Sonya in all of this?”
“What about her?”
“Has it once occurred to you that rather than another therapist or a new activity, Sonya might just need some time and attention? Specifically, your time and attention.”
“What?”
“And instead of trying to provide that, you’re trying to use me—no, you’re trying to buy me to provide those things as a substitute.”
Jordan’s jaw clenched and his expression hardened. “Forget it, Jess. Forget I even mentioned it.”
“Oh, no, you don’t. Much too late for that. The cat’s out of the bag already.”
“Listen, I get it. I didn’t mean to overstep. You’re not ready to take any sort of step toward a career decision obviously. Not even for Sonya’s sake.”
He may as well have picked her up and thrown her into the pool.
“How dare you,” she said, unable to keep the angry tremor from her voice. “You know very well that I grew to love that sweet little girl right around the same time I fell in love with you!”
She clapped a hand to her mouth before she could say any more. But it was too late. Jordan had heard enough. The loaded word now hung heavy in the air between them.