Redemption. Carolyn Davidson

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      Alicia rose, smoothing down her skirts. “I think I’d better take my leave, Mr. McPherson.”

      “Alicia.” He spoke her name softly and she turned toward him abruptly. “I think we might use our given names, don’t you? I mean no disrespect, but Miss Merriweather is a pretty formal title for a woman who has made herself so important to my son.” He smiled, and the effect was startling. The frown lines on his forehead disappeared and a small dimple appeared in his cheek, matching the one Jason owned.

      “I think that would be permitted,” she said. “Shall I call you Jake, or Jacob?”

      “Better either one of those choices than the things you’ve been tempted to call me over the past couple of weeks,” he said quietly. He watched her closely. “I’d like to ask a favor of you.”

      She stood stock-still, her gaze caught by the look of embarrassment he wore. “If I can do something to help, I’ll be happy to accommodate,” she replied.

      “Do you think you could trim my hair?” he asked. “I know it’s an imposition, and I have no right to expect such a thing from a lady, but I want Jason to—” He halted in the midst of his explanation and spread his hands wide. “I’m not much of an example for the boy. I’ve let myself become a recluse. I look like a hermit, and Jason deserves better than that from his father.”

      Alicia wanted to weep. It took all of her willpower to smile at Jake without allowing tears to well up. “I’d be happy to trim your hair…Jake. I watched Mr. Hamlet cut Jason’s and I really think I could do as well.”

      “I wouldn’t be a bit surprised.” He rolled his chair to the parlor door. “I have a pair of scissors in my room if you wouldn’t mind doing it today.”

      The kitchen seemed to be the place best suited for the task, and Alicia found herself pinning a large towel around Jake’s neck ten minutes later. She’d pushed the kitchen table against one wall, freeing up a large area in which to work. Jason sat wide-eyed on a chair and held the scissors. Jake’s shaving mug and straight razor sat on the sink, in preparation for trimming his sideburns, and Alicia held a comb at the ready.

      “Shall I wash it first?” she asked, for some reason breathless as she considered the deed she was about to embark upon.

      “If you like,” Jake said. “I washed it two days ago, though.”

      “It should be fine then,” she said. Gathering her courage, she stepped closer to his chair and ran the comb hesitantly through the length of dark hair. Extending over his collar, it was raggedly trimmed. Obviously Jake had done it himself; the back looked as if it had been sawed at with a dull knife.

      Beneath her fingers his hair was soft, silken to the touch, and she inhaled, aware that her breathing was a bit uneven. He glanced up at her, his eyes questioning, as if he sensed her apprehension. “All right?” he asked, then his mouth twitched and his eyes darkened as if he knew the extent of her unease, and was amused by her dithering.

      Alicia only nodded and went to the sink for a cup of water. Dampening the comb, she drew it through his hair and then made her first cut. Uneven bits of hair fell to the kitchen floor and she blinked. Once she’d made the initial cut, she was committed.

      Moving in a half circle, she trimmed and evened out the length of his hair, dampening as she went. And then she was faced with the front, where it hung over his forehead. “How do you want this part cut?” she asked.

      “Your guess is as good as mine,” he told her. “However it looks best to you.”

      She leaned from the side and gauged the first snip, only to have her wrist caught in his grip. “Step around in front of me,” he told her. “I promise not to bite, Alicia.”

      Too close…she was too close to him. Too near the masculine scent of him, that musky blend she’d come to associate with this man, and the aroma of shaving soap that emanated from his skin. He’d shaved today, a fact she’d noted upon arrival. For her benefit? She smiled at the thought.

      “What’s so funny?” he asked, barely moving his lips as though he might disturb her concentration.

      “Nothing. I was thinking of something else,” she said hastily. Then she moved even nearer, her legs touching the front of his chair, the pressure of his right knee against her thigh. It was an intimate touch, his body heat radiating through her dress and petticoat. Beneath her fingertips, his face assumed a solemn look as she lifted the hair from his forehead and cut it in soft layers. The trembling she could not control threatened to botch her task before it was well under way.

      He closed his eyes and she blew softly at the small clippings that fell on his cheeks. His nose wrinkled at that and she laughed, a soft sound that stilled his nose from wiggling and appeared to halt his breathing. Then his eyes opened—dark orbs that seemed to see beneath her skin, to the woman she kept concealed. She tensed, a shiver of anticipation traveling the length of her spine.

      “You have lovely eyes,” he said quietly. “I thought your hair was brown, but it isn’t, is it? It’s the color of chestnuts, sort of a ruddy hue.”

      She paused, holding the scissors upright. “Chestnuts?”

      Again he smiled, and she stepped away from him, her fingers still tingling from the moments spent buried in his silken hair. He smiled at her, one corner of his mouth twitching. And yet, more than amusement lit his gaze as he searched her face and posed an idle query.

      “Haven’t you ever picked up horse chestnuts in the late summer and shucked them?”

      She hesitated, not entirely trusting her voice to be steady. “No, I can’t say I have,” she replied, feeling she’d succeeded, her breathing steadier now that she was no longer held a willing captive by his warmth.

      “I’ve done that, Miss Merriweather,” Jason said eagerly, perching on the edge of his chair. “We play stuff with them. Kinda shoot them like marbles.”

      “I didn’t do much playing when I was a child, Jason. You’re a fortunate young man to have a father who allows you to play as a young boy should.”

      “All the boys play,” Jason said, his brow furrowing as if he did not follow her line of thought.

      “And so they should,” she murmured, once more moving closer, the better to finish the task she’d begun. She lifted a lock of hair, drawing it to its full length, then trimmed the edges and allowed it to fall into place. The bits and pieces of shorn hair fell to Jake’s shoulder and she reached automatically to brush them away.

      “There,” she announced briskly. “That should do it. I think you look fine, Mr. McPherson.”

      The word he murmured beneath his breath made her smile and she repeated it after him.

      “Jake.”

      THE HAMMER HIT THE BOARD and the nail went in true. “Bravo!” Alicia said, and offered Jason another nail. “We’ll be hiring you out as a handyman before you know it,” she told him.

      “I suspect we can find enough for him to do right here for a few days,” Jake said from his place on the porch. He’d rolled out the door, stopping the chair a foot from the edge. Alicia had given the railing a dubious look, wondering if it was as sturdy as it should be, and felt a sense of relief when СКАЧАТЬ