The Risk of Loving by Jane Peart

Author:Jane Peart [Jane Peart]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781459271258
Publisher: Harlequin

Chapter Thirteen

Arriving at the Emerys’ house, she rang the doorbell, then heard voices and running footsteps. The door opened and Ginny stood, shyly smiling.

Mark was not far behind.

“Hi, come in. We’re getting things lined up. Mrs. Aguilar left us all sorts of instructions.”

“She always does on Daddy’s night in the kitchen!” chirped Ginny, then clapped her hand to her mouth, “Whoops, sorry!”

“Rumors.” Mark grinned. “Here, let me take your jacket.”

Coryn had changed into a plum colored tunic sweater and matching pants. She had tied her hair back with a velvet ribbon and wore silver and turquoise earrings. Mark’s gaze moved over her appreciatively.

The first time Coryn had been here, the day she had come bringing Ginny’s eye patch covers, Mrs. Aguilar had taken her right to the back of the house. Later, they had sat in the kitchen. She had not really seen the rest of the house.

From the center hall, Coryn saw two rooms. One was the living room, the other, from the glimpse she got through half-open glass doors, had probably originally been the dining room. It looked as though it had been turned into an office with a desk, computer and bookcases. It probably served as his study when Mark worked at home, she realized.

“Come in. I got a fire going, should take the chill off,” Mark said. “Would you like something to drink? Soda, coffee? I’ve some apple cider simmering.”

“That sounds good.”

Mark rubbed his hands together. He seemed a little nervous. Ginny had told her that they didn’t have company often. Did that include Mark entertaining ladies?

“Fine. Make yourself comfortable. Ginny, you want to help me?”

Ginny trotted off to the back of the house alongside him.

Coryn walked over to the fireplace, held out her hands to its glowing warmth, turned back, studied Mark’s home.

On one side of the fireplace was a worn leather armchair and reading lamp. In front was a sofa, beside it a smaller armchair with matching, rather faded chintz covers. On both sides of the hearth were built-in bookcases crammed with books. There were lots of children’s books on the lower shelves, easily accessible for Ginny.

Mark’s domain was in sharp contrast to Jason’s condo. Coryn remembered the first time she saw Jason’s apartment. The address was a good one with an expensive view. The huge living room had glass doors leading out to a balcony overlooking the pool. Modern prints hung on the stark white walls. Furniture consisted of a contoured white sofa and a blackleather Eames chair. In front of the couch was a coffee table with a free-form glass top on which were neatly piled copies of GQ and Fortune. There was a gleaming black entertainment center with a twentyfour-inch television and CD cabinet. An exercise machine stood in one corner.

In Jason’s black-and-white tile kitchen, the size of a boat galley, there was a chrome microwave and an automatic coffeemaker. It had struck her at the time that although he had lived there two years, the place looked like a high-priced motel room.

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