a chair when it had struck him that Mara Pratt had a body that might not be flashy enough to turn every head in the poshest New York restaurant, but there was still a whole lot of allure in her tight, just-round-enough rump, small waist. And her chest had certainly turned his head.
No, there wasn’t anything at all flashy about Mara Pratt, but she had a free, easy, effortless beauty that was all her own. Serene and understated, it had crept up and apparently taken some sort of hold on him, even more than the extravagant, precision perfection he was currently accustomed to. And understated or not, Mara Pratt packed a wallop that had made it difficult to get her out of his head—all night and here again now.
Which was why he was sitting at the desk in the den of the house he’d grown up in, thinking about her when he had so many other things he should have been paying attention to.
Mara Pratt.
Northbridge, Montana’s Mara Pratt.
Cam and Scott Pratt’s little sister.
Huh.
Somebody he never would have given a second glance to in the past was suddenly enthralling him. And what made it even more odd was that it was happening at a time when nothing was giving him a charge anymore.
Not a single thing. Not a single person.
Yet the mere idea of talking to Mara Pratt again, of seeing her again, was doing something for him that not even his last multimillion-dollar takeover had accomplished.
And if that wasn’t weird, he didn’t know what was.
He’d come to Northbridge figuring that besides meeting and helping the grandmother he’d always wondered about, after a little time in the town he’d chafed in, his real life would look a lot better again. He hadn’t come figuring that anything or anyone here would look good to him.
Maybe he was in worse shape than he’d thought.
Maybe after this he should take a long vacation, he told himself. A couple of months in Europe. Or Tahiti. Or the Bahamas. Or all three. And maybe, when this was all over, that’s what he’d do. He’d get away from everything. Lie around somewhere designed for escape. Sleep a lot. Eat and drink to excess. Surround himself with women who would make him wonder what could possibly have made him obsess over some squeaky-clean hometown girl. Blueberry eyes or not.
Good idea, he decided. That’s what he’d do. And between a refresher course in what had made him dislike Northbridge and a long vacation, maybe he’d be rejuvenated on the work front, and he wouldn’t even be able to conjure up a mental image of Mara Pratt.
Like the one that was lingering in his mind at this moment.
As clear and bright as that skin of hers that he kept imagining the feel of.
Jared closed his eyes and shook his head to rid himself of the unwanted images and equally unwanted—and unwarranted—urges.
Then he opened them, determined to shake more than that, to shake thinking about Mara Pratt and wondering about her and any interest in her whatsoever.
But he still had to make the call to Celeste.
And Mara Pratt could very well answer.
She could very well be there today to support Celeste through the questioning, just the way he intended to be.
Which meant that he’d be seeing her again.
And regardless of how hard he tried—and he did try damn hard—he just couldn’t make himself hate either of those possibilities.
“Why do you keep looking out that window today, honey? Do you think the Montana version of the Inquisition is going to surprise us and come earlier than they said?”
Celeste startled Mara who had gone to the apartment window while the older woman went to the bedroom to get some hand lotion.
“No, my brother said that since the local cops insisted on having the questioning be as easy on you as possible, the D.A. and the state police and the FBI—and whoever else in on tap—will meet at the police station. Then Cam will bring them here at three,” Mara answered, turning her back to the window to face Celeste. “I guess I’m just a little edgy,” she added as she leaned against the sill.
“Or is it Jared you’re watching for instead of my tribunal? He told you he’d be here before them, didn’t he?” Celeste said with a note of intrigue in her voice.
“That was what he told me, yes,” Mara said matter-of-factly. “But no, I wasn’t watching for him.”
And that was a flat-out lie because watching for Jared Perry was exactly what Mara had been doing. Hating herself for it, but doing it anyway. Several times an hour, every hour since she’d answered the phone, she’d suffered more of that tingling sensation. Simply the sound of his deep voice and learning that he wanted to be here to offer his support to his grandmother during her questioning by authorities had done this to her. He’d told Mara that he would arrive before everyone else, but he’d given no indication how long before, leaving Mara guessing. And checking the alley at every sound to see if it was him.
But apparently even her disclaimer didn’t throw Celeste off the scent because as the older woman lowered herself into her chair, she said, “But after you heard he was coming you did go and change into those nice gray wool slacks that fit you so well and that baby-blue sweater that I always tell you sets off your eyes.”
“I only did that because I thought it was better to present a dignified front to the authorities,” Mara said, pulling the reason out of her hat when Celeste was right, she had had Jared Perry in mind when she’d changed clothes.
“Jared is a good catch,” Celeste said, ignoring Mara’s excuse.
“Nobody says things like good catch anymore,” Mara said with a laugh. “And I’m not angling to catch any man.”
“Maybe you should be.”
Mara didn’t want to offend the older woman or hurt Celeste’s feelings by going into the reasons why—even if she were in the market for a man—Jared Perry would not be that man, so she merely said, “I think what I should be doing right now is whatever I can to help get you out of trouble so we can both go back to work and do some dry cleaning to make a living.”
“Are you trying to tell me you didn’t notice how pretty my grandson is?”
“Pretty?”
“Well, he is.”
“I’m sure he’d love being called that.”
“But you have to admit it’s true.”
“He’s a nice-looking man, yes,” Mara conceded. “But he’s not my type.”
“The two of you would have such beautiful babies together.”
Mara laughed. “That’s quite a leap.”
“And then, instead of just being your favorite employee, you and I could really be family and I’d love that!”
“You’ve
