Page 47 of An Unexpected Love

She snuggled into the warmth, ignoring the persistent sound. After hours and hours of forcing herself to stay awake, she’d finally given up and succumbed to the sweet seduction of sleep.

“Honey, if you don’t wake up, you’ll get a crick in your neck.”

“Jordan?” Her eyes instantly flew open, and she saw her husband kneeling on the carpet beside her chair. She straightened, throwing her arms around his neck. “Oh, Jordan,” she whispered, “I’m so glad you’re home.”

“With this kind of reception, I’ll have to stay away more often.”

Jill decided to ignore that comment. “What time is it?”

“Late” was all he said.

She kissed him, needing him, savoring the feel of his arms around her. He looked dreadful. He hadn’t beenhome for dinner in well over a week and spent all hours of the day and night at his office.

Although she’d asked him several times, Jordan’s only explanation was that a project he’d been working on had developed problems.A project.For this he was willing to send both their lives into tumult; for this he was willing to place their marriage at risk. The upheaval had all but ruined the memory of their brief idyllic honeymoon. They’d been back in Seattle for two weeks now, and Jill hadn’t been allotted a single uninterrupted hour of Jordan’s time.

“Are you hungry?” She doubted he’d eaten a decent meal in days.

He shook his head, then rubbed his face wearily. “I’m more tired than anything.”

“How much longer is this going to continue?” she asked, keeping her voice as steady as she could. She’d gone into this marriage with her eyes wide open. From the moment she’d met Jordan, she’d known how stiff the competition would be, how demanding his way of life was. She’d always known it would be difficult to keep their marriage intact. But she’d figured their love would hold the edge for at least the first couple of years.

Unfortunately she’d figured wrong. If anything, she’d underestimated the strength of his obsession with business and success. Jordan loved her; he might rarely have told her that, but Jill didn’t need the words. What she did need was some of his time, his attention.

“I’ve hardly seen you all week,” she reminded him. “You’re gone before I wake up in the mornings. Heaven only knows what time you get home at night.”

“It won’t be much longer,” Jordan said stiffly, standing. “I promise.”

“Would it be so terrible if this project folded?”

“Yes,” he returned emphatically.

“One failure isn’t the end of the world, you know.”

Jordan smiled wryly, and his condescension angered her.

“It’s true,” she said. “Did I ever tell you about trying out for the lead in the high-school play during my senior year?”

Jordan frowned. “No, but is this another story like the one about your piano-playing?”

Jill tucked her legs under her and rested one elbow on the chair arm. “A little.”

Jordan sank down on the leather sofa across from her, leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “In that case, why don’t you move directly to the point and skip the story?”

He wasn’t being rude, Jill told herself, only practical. He was exhausted and in desperate need of rest. He didn’t have the energy to wade through her mournful tale in search of a moral.

“All right,” she agreed amicably enough. “You’ve probably already guessed I didn’t get the lead. But I’d been so sure I would. I’d played major roles in several plays. In fact, I’d gotten every part I’d ever tried out for. Not only didn’t I get this part, I wasn’t even in the play, and darn it all, even now I think I would’ve done a good job of playing Helen Keller.”

He grinned. “I’m sure you would have, too.”

“What I learned from that experience was not to fear failure. I survived not playing Helen Keller, and later, in college, when I was awarded a wonderful role, it heightened my appreciation of that success.” WhenJordan didn’t immediately respond, she added, “Do you understand what I’m saying or are you asleep?”

His eyes were still closed but his mouth lifted in a gentle smile. “I was just mulling over the sad history of your musical and acting careers.”

Jill smiled, too. “I know it sounds ludicrous, but failure liberated me. My heart and soul went into my audition for that role, and when I lost, I felt I could never act again. It took me a long time to regain my confidence, to be willing to hazard another rejection, but eventually I was the stronger for it. When I decided to try out for a play in my freshman year of college, I felt as though I was somehow protected, because failure wasn’t going to rock me the way it had earlier.”

“So you wanted to be an actress?”

“No, I’m not much good at waiting tables.”

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