He never brought up the topic of them since that day at her office. She had more important things on her mind so he just focused on helping.
But today, when her father was being buried. Jensen was totally stunned by Katherine's appearance that morning.
Not only was she wearing a curve hugging black suit with a flirty little frill at the bottom of her skirt— drawing attention to the feminine shapeliness of her calves, fine ankles, and feet shod in sexy black high heels— but her hair was…positively mesmerising.
He had arrived at her parents house the previous day so he could help ensure that things went well and all throughout breakfast he could not stop looking at her hair.
Since her father's death she wore it in pigtails or scraped into a knot, tightly confined, with a hat or cap crammed over it more often than not. It had been a while since he had seen it like this—lustrous dark waves springing softly from her head, cascading into curls that bounced alluringly around her shoulders.
It looked so vivid against the paleness of her skin, and formed an amazingly rich, sensual contrast to her somber attire.
Her face seemed different, too. Maybe it was the startling beauty of her hair framing it, or the subtle touches of make-up— brows penciled a shade darker, a smoky shadow applied to her eyelids, enhancing the shape and size of her eyes, lending a more feminine mystique to their sharp directness, and the red-brown lipstick certainly added an enticing lushness to her mouth. Katherine always looked striking. But today, he simply wasn’t prepared for…stunning!
She wore a double strand of pearls around her throat. It looked amazing on her. He should be thinking of the man they were burying today, not his daughter. Jensen scolded himself.
Jensen tried to keep his mind focussed on paying his last respects to Jonah Kavell. Yet even at the funeral service his attention was split. Katherine sat beside him while Tim sat with Delia. And every time she bent her head he was distracted by the rippling flow of her hair, the scent of it reminding him of fresh lemons, slightly tart but light and refreshing, completely unlike the erotic muskiness of other women’s perfume. Not that he was interested in other women.
And she stood beside him as her father was buried. With the extra elevation of her extremely high heels, the top of her head came up to his chin. She held herself with very straight and tall dignity and consoled her mother when she saw her cry. Jonah would have been proud of her, he thought.
Afterwards, when they returned to her parents house, Jensen could not stop his gaze from following her every move—greeting the guests who’d flown in to attend the burial ceremony, graciously listening to what they wanted to say, serving them with drinks or food. Many people he didn’t know had come, but she knew most of them and their connections to her father.
Some of the people who were there knew him, welcomed his company, and chatted to him. Somehow it wasn’t enough. He wanted to be at Katherine's side, sharing the responsibilities of outback hospitality, familiar with everything that was familiar to her. The sense of being an outsider grated on him, especially when Katherine's attention was courted by young men.
Men who were smitten by the way she looked today. Men who won kind smiles from her. Men who might be eager to offer themselves as partners, given some sign of encouragement.
Jensen's charm started to wear thin.
A previously unknown possessive streak hit him, driving him to insert himself into the private little tête-à-têtes these men sought with Katherine, making his presence at her side felt and forcibly acknowledged.
Though that didn’t work too well. He found himself viewed as a curiosity, not a threat to their interests. He managed to hold himself back from yelling at one of the men to stay away from her. And he reminded himself that she wasn't even his.
Perhaps he was less than subtle in cutting out one guy who was definitely coming on to her. Katherine threw him a look of exasperation and grittily declared, "I do not need you standing over me, Jensen. I can handle myself"
His eyes blazed. "Seems like you’re not sour on all men after all, just me" he shot back at her.
Her eyes widened.
Jensen realized he sounded jealous. He was jealous. He wished he’d given in to the temptation to kiss her last night when he had found himself alone with her for a minute, kiss her so hard she wouldn’t be thinking of giving any other guy the time of day.
He wanted to grab her arm and haul her away from everyone else right now, have her to himself, convince her that he was the man for her.
But was he?
And was that the right move? He could end up damaging their already fragile relationship.
"I’m just trying to be as good a hostess as my mother," she said, her chin lifting in defiance of his criticism.
"Right!" Jensen said angrily. "Well, I’ll leave you to it." He backed off, sternly reminding himself of the company they were in— the people were here for Jonah. However, he spent the rest of the day simmering with frustration, though he took considerable satisfaction in the number of glances Katherine threw his way. She’d well and truly disturbed him. Let her be disturbed, too!
He was glad when all the guests were gone and he could busy himself helping with the cleaning up, chatting with Delia in the kitchen, feeling a little bit at home, trying to keep her busy and helping her not dwell on the fact that she had just buried her husband.
The family picked at leftovers, flaking out in the sitting room once the homestead was back to normal. The consensus of opinion was that the burial had been all it should have been for a man of Jonah Kavell's standing—a man who would be sadly missed by many.
Emotional and physical fatigue gradually took its toll, people trailing off to bed until there was only Jensen and Katherine left in the room.