Time and Again

possible he would have murdered each and every one of them for touching what was his. And not his.
    He swore and spun around to see her watching him from the doorway.
    "Are we going to fight?"
    He ached. Just looking at her, he ached, for what was, and for what could never be. "No."
    "Okay."
    "I don't want them near you," he blurted out.
    "Don't be a jerk."
    He reached her in three strides. "I mean it."
    She tugged her arms free and glared at him. "So do I. Damn it, do you think any of them could mean anything to me after you?"
    "If you don't-" Her words sunk in and stopped him. Lifting his hands, palms out, he stepped back. She stepped forward.
    "If I don't what? If you think you can give me orders, pal, you've got another thing coming. I don't have to-"
    "No, you don't." He cut her off, taking her balled fist in his hand. Not his, he reminded himself. He was going to have to start getting used to that. "I'm not handling this well. I've never been in love before."
    The fighting light died from her eyes. "Neither have I. Not like this."
    "No, not like this." He brought her fingertips to his lips. "Just review the rest of your communications later, will you?"
    Amused by his phrasing, she grinned. "Sure. Listen, help yourself to whatever's in the kitchen. The TV's in the bedroom, the stereo's out here. I'll be back in a couple of hours."
    "Where are you going?"
    She picked up a pair of discarded sneakers and tugged them on. "I'm going to go see my parents. If you're up to it later, maybe we can have a real dinner out and go dancing or something."
    "Sunny." He took her hand as she picked up her coat. "I'd like to go with you."
    Solemn eyed, she studied him. "You don't have to, Jacob. Really."
    "I know. I'd like to."
    She kissed his cheek. "Go get your coat."
    William Stone stalked to the door of his elegant Tudor home in bare feet. His sweatshirt bagged on his long, skinny frame. The knees of his jeans had worn through, but he refused to give them up. In one hand he carried a portable phone, in the other a banana.
    "Look, Preston, I want the new ad campaign to be subtle. No dancing tea bags, no heavy-metal music, no talking teddy bears." On a sound of frustration he yanked the door open. "Yes, that includes waltzing rabbits, for God's sake. I want-" He spotted his daughter and grinned from ear to ear. "Deal with it, Preston," he ordered, and broke the connection. "Hi, brat." He spread his arms and caught her on a leap.
    Sunny gave him a noisy kiss, then stole his banana. "The tycoon speaks."
    William grimaced at the portable phone. Such pretensions embarrassed him. "I was just-" His words trailed off when he spotted Jacob on the threshold. He searched his mind for a name. Sunny often brought men to the house-friends and companions. William refused to think of his little girl having lovers.
    Though this one looked familiar, he couldn't place the name.
    "This is J.T.," Sunny said between bites of banana. She had her arm around her father's waist.
    Two peas in a pod, Jacob thought, pleased that he'd been able to dig up the expression. The same coloring, the same bone structure, the same frank, measuring looks. Taking the initiative, Jacob stepped forward and offered a hand.
    "Mr. Stone."
    Since one arm was still holding his daughter-a bit possessively-William stuck the phone in the back pocket of his jeans before he shook Jacob's hand.
    "Hornblower," Sunny continued, enjoying herself. "Jacob Hornblower. Cal's brother."
    "No kidding." The handshake became more enthusiastic, the smile more friendly. "Well, it's nice to see you. We were beginning to think Cal had made up his family. Come on in. Caro's around somewhere."
    He released Jacob but kept a firm hold on Sunny as he led the way through the foyer into the living room. Jacob got the impression of bold colors mixed with pastels. And, again, elegant. A simple, timeless elegance.
    A few pieces of glittery crystal, gleaming antiques and, of course, what he now realized was Caroline Stone's stunning art. If Jacob was surprised to find her woven masterpieces so casually displayed on the walls, he was speechless to see another spread on the floor as a rug.
    "Have a seat," William was saying as he walked thoughtlessly over what Jacob considered a priceless work of art. "How about a drink?"
    "No, nothing. Thank you." He was staring at an ornamental lemon tree in the window. His own father nurtured the same type of plant.
    "You'll have to have tea," Sunny said, patting Jacob's