Cross My Heart (A Contemporary Romance Novel)

better than to believe that either wish would come true.
     

 
    Chapter Two
    The salmon was melting in her mouth, covered in some kind of lemon hazelnut sauce so delicious she chased the last drops with her roll after she’d eaten every bite of the fish. The asparagus, the salad…it was all perfect.
    Michael Stone struck her as a man who would always view perfection as the standard. He wouldn’t undertake anything lightly, and he’d want to be successful at everything he did.
    Based on what she’d seen of his house, she could tell he valued order and structure. He wouldn’t be a big fan of chaos, internal or external.
    Which meant his relationship with Claire had to be making him nuts. Because when you were fourteen, chaos was the name of the game.
    It was obvious over dinner that the two of them weren’t comfortable with each other. They veered from stiff and awkward to downright sarcastic—on Claire’s part, anyway.
    It was also obvious that Michael would love to be more at ease with his daughter. To be able to talk to her. To understand her.
    And she was willing to bet that behind the whole teenage snark thing, Claire wanted that, too.
    Jenna’s heart went out to both of them.
    She wondered about Claire’s mother. Michael wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, and he’d mentioned Claire lived with her grandparents. Was her mother dead? How sad if that were the case.
    Claire was confessing, now, that she’d always dreamed about being a rock and roll star. Jenna shot a glance at Michael, knowing that very few fathers would want that for their daughters. He was frowning at her. “But you don’t even play an instrument,” he said.
    Claire looked mad. “I’ve been playing the piano for, like, years .”
    Michael stared at her. “I didn’t know that. Why didn’t I know that?”
    Claire rolled her eyes. “Gee, Dad, I don’t know. Maybe because you can only stand to see me three weeks out of the year? I hate to break it to you, but there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
    Jenna winced as Michael took a deep breath. “Claire, you know I’d see you more often if I could. And I email you all the time. Maybe if you answered more than one a week, or bothered to actually tell me something about your life—”
    “Why should I bother? And since when have you cared if I play an instrument or not? You don’t even like music. Every time I turn the radio on, you turn it right off again.”
    Jenna spoke up before the teenager could say anything else. “There’s a piano at my house, and I’d love to hear you play. I bet your dad would like that, too. Why don’t we go to my place for dessert?”
    Storm diverted. Claire’s eyes lit up, her mood going from sullen to excited in the blink of an eye. “That would be great! Can we, Dad? Please?”
    Michael blinked at the sudden mood shift, looking from his daughter to her. “Well…if you’re sure it’s all right?”
    “Of course it is. I can’t offer anything fancy enough to match this amazing dinner, but I’ve got ice cream.”
    He held her gaze for a moment longer, a silent thank you in his eyes, and Jenna felt a rush of warmth as she looked back at him.
    Claire wanted to go right then, but Jenna insisted that they clear the table and load the dishwasher first. A few minutes after they finished Jenna was ushering the two of them into her house.
    Claire went over to the wall where Jenna had hung her photos, the ones she always traveled with. Those pictures were always the first thing she unpacked in a new place, even if she was only staying a few weeks. They helped her feel at home no matter where she was.
    There were pictures of her family, of course. And signed photos of Bo Diddley and B.B. King and some of the other legendary musicians she’d been lucky enough to meet over the years. And there was her wall of female rocker fame, autographed album covers from some of the women who’d left their mark on the art form she loved.
    “How many have you met?” Claire asked in a hushed voice, as if they were in church.
    “A few,” she answered with a smile.
    Michael was standing beside his daughter. “I don’t recognize any of them.” He looked down at Claire, and something in his expression tugged at Jenna’s heart.
    “Who’s your favorite band?” she asked, wanting to draw him into the conversation.
    “I don’t have one. I listen to classical sometimes, but that’s about it.”
    Now, maybe, but in high school? “What did you listen to