her head in self-disgust, then looked at Jack from beneath her lashes.
Why? she wondered frantically. Why did that man have such a powerful and unsettling impact on her? He was just an ordinary man, for Pete’s sake.
Well, no, that wasn’t entirely true. She’d already conceded that Jack was an eleven on a scale of one to ten. He was so ruggedly handsome, so perfectly proportioned, and that thick, dark auburn hair of his was just begging to have feminine fingers sift through it.
And his eyes? Oh, those chocolate fudge sauce eyes mesmerized her and made it difficult to breathe.
Jennifer, stop it, she ordered herself, shifting her gaze back to the book. She was getting a grip—right now. All she had to do was bid Jack a pleasant goodbye as he left the dining room, and that would be that. She’d never see him again.
She frowned.
Wait a minute. Was he a guest at Hamilton House? If so, how long would he be staying in Prescott? Would he be popping into the dining room for dinner night after night? It stood to reason he’d be registered at his friend’s hotel, but for how many days?
It didn’t matter, she thought, lifting her chin. She’d been thrown off-kilter by Jack MacAllister for reasons she couldn’t begin to fathom. But she was on full-alert now, her protective walls firmly in place. She was hereby immune to the spell-weaving Mr. MacAllister, even if he smiled that knock-’emdead smile of his.
And the minute she got home tonight she was throwing away the flowers from Megan’s bridal bouquet. Unsuperstitious or not, she wasn’t taking any more chances.
Very good. She was back in control. Everything was fine. Thank heavens all of this ridiculous nonsense was at an end.
Jack listened absently as Aunt Charity related a tale of Brandon, Ben, Taylor and Jennifer’s mischievous deeds when they were children growing up together in Prescott.
Ah, here we go, he thought. Some people had just entered the dining room, which meant—yes, there it was…Jennifer’s smile. It lit up her face and caused those marvelous green eyes of hers to sparkle to the point where he was dazzled from across the room.
He’d watched her move through the tables with elegant, natural grace. She was femininity personified, and the heat throbbing low in his body told him that he was very aware of that fact, both mentally and physically. The fascinating Ms. Mackane was turning him inside out.
Which didn’t make one bit of sense.
Jennifer was the type of woman he steered clear of, big time. She was, as the saying went, encumbered—with a five-year-old son, a home, a life-style that virtually shouted that the missing ingredients were a husband and father. No way. That was not his scene, not even close.
He’d also learned that Jennifer wasn’t seeing anyone, wasn’t into the singles’ dating scene. She did not, therefore, know how to play the no-strings, no-commitment game.
Jennifer didn’t wish to remarry, which was a point in her favor. A shaky point. He’d heard that bit before, but when a guy came along who collected a hefty paycheck, lo and behold, how quickly that tune could change.
Nope, he wanted no part of the lovely Jennifer. She was more than a pleasure to look at, was feisty and funny, and dynamite when she got her temper in a roar, but he would cut a wide path around her during the remainder of his stay in Prescott.
Jack watched as Jennifer led a couple to a small table in the center of the room. The man spoke to her, and Jennifer laughed as she handed the pair their menus.
A flash of heat rocketed through him as he heard the lilting sound of Jennifer’s laughter. He shifted slightly in his chair and frowned.
Damn, he thought. Jennifer was pushing his libido buttons again. Why was she capable of doing that?
He controlled his actions and reactions toward women. He set the tempo, called the shots, and exited stage left at the first hint of possessiveness on the part of the woman in question.
He treated women with respect, showed them a good time, but he didn’t particularly trust them.
He sure didn’t know why Jennifer Mackane was able to hang him out to dry, but he’d had enough of it. She was upsetting his peace of mind and driving his raging body over the edge.
Why the hell was this happening to him—?
“Right, Jack?” Brandon said, snapping Jack back to attention.
“What?” Jack said. “Oh, sorry. I was off somewhere, I guess.”
“She’s thirty-three,” Aunt Charity said, “but she looks younger, don’t you think?”
“Who?” Jack said, an expression of pure innocence on his face.
“Give it up, hotshot,” Aunt Charity said. “I’ve been sitting here watching you watching Jennifer through this entire meal.”
“Me?” Jack said, raising his eyebrows. “Well, I may have glanced at her a time or two, but there’s no harm in looking at the scenery, Aunt Charity.”
“That’s true, dear,” Aunt Prudence said, “but you need to do more than look at our Jennifer. You should, as the gentleman I’m certain you are, speak with Jennifer privately and sincerely apologize for frightening her while you studied her home.”
“I thoroughly agree,” Andrea said decisively.
“Buy her some candy from the snazzy shop in the lobby,” Aunt Charity said, then paused. “On second thought, buy me some, too. I love the stuff.”
“Hey, I didn’t scare Jennifer intentionally,” Jack said. “It was a simple misunderstanding, that’s all.”
“Which needs to be put to rest properly,” Aunt Prudence said.
“You’re dead meat, buddy,” Brandon said, smiling. “Don’t argue the point any further, because you’d be wasting your breath. Apologize to Jennifer when you get the chance, and be done with it.”
“Mmm,” Jack said, glaring at Brandon.
“What I was saying to you when you were daydreaming,” Brandon went on, “is that you’re going to design our house while you’re in Prescott. I was bringing the aunts up to date on that.”
“Oh. Sure. Right,” Jack said, nodding. “That’s what I’m going to do, fantastic architect that I am. I’ll have those plans to you and Andrea before I head to Ventura for the MacAllister reunion. Man, Christmas is going to be a zoo with the whole clan together.”
“It sounds like fun,” Andrea said.
“I think the kids outnumber the adults by now,” Jack said. “The MacAllisters are into having babies, that’s for sure. I’ll have to learn how to talk to munchkin-type people, since I’m going to be part of the MacAllister architectural firm in Ventura. No more New York City rat race and brutal winters. Maybe I’ll even learn how to surf.”
“You did the smart thing by leaving New York,” Brandon said. “I’ve never been sorry I dropped out of the fast lane.” He smiled warmly at Andrea.
