“Unless you object?”
“No … no, that’s fine.”
“I phoned earlier and asked my cook to prepare dinner for two.”
“You have a cook?” Oddly, that fact astounded her, although she supposed it shouldn’t have, considering his wealth.
He smiled, his first genuine smile since he’d shown up at her door. “You’re easily impressed.”
He talked as though everyone employed a cook, and Jill couldn’t help laughing.
They rode a private elevator thirty floors up to the penthouse suite. The view of Puget Sound that greeted Jill as the doors glided open was breathtaking.
“This is beautiful,” she whispered, stepping out. She followed him through his living room, past a white leather sectional sofa and a glass-and-chrome coffee table that held a small abstract sculpture. She wasn’t too knowledgeable when it came to works of art, but this looked valuable.
“That’s a Davis Stanford piece,” Jordan said matter-of-factly.
Jill nodded, hoping he wouldn’t guess how ignorant she was.
“White wine?”
“Please.” Jill couldn’t take her eyes off the view. The waterways of Puget Sound were dotted with white-and-green ferries. The islands—Bainbridge, Whidbey and Vashon—were jewellike against the backdrop of the Olympic Mountains.
“Nothing like Hawaii, is it?” Jordan asked as he handed her a long-stemmed wineglass.
“No, but just as beautiful in its own way.”
“I’m going back to Oahu next week.”
“So soon?” Jill was envious.
“It’s another short trip. Two or three days at most.”
“Perhaps you’ll get a chance to go snorkeling again.”
Jordan shook his head. “I won’t have time for any underwater adventures this trip,” he told her.
Jill perched on the edge of the sofa, staring down at her wine. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to separate you from my time in Oahu,” she said softly. “The rest of my week seemed so … empty.”
“I know what you mean.”
Her heartbeat quickened as his gaze strayed to her mouth. He sat beside her and removed the wine goblet from her unresisting hand. Next his fingers curved around her neck, ever so lightly, brushing aside her hair. His eyes held hers as if he expected resistance. Then slowly, giving her ample opportunity to pull away if she wished, he lowered his mouth to hers.
Jill moaned in anticipation, instinctively moving closer. Common sense shouted in alarm, but she refused to listen. Just once she wanted to know what it was like to be kissed with real passion—to be cherished by a man. Just once she wanted to know what it meant to be adored. Her heart filled with delirious joy. Her hands slid up his chest to his shoulders as she clung to him. He kissed her again, small, nibbling kisses, as though he was afraid of frightening her with the strength of his need. But he must have sensed her receptiveness, because he deepened the kiss.
Suddenly it came to her. The same thing that had happened to Shelly was now happening to her. The phenomenon Aunt Milly had experienced sixty-five years earlier was coming to pass a third time.
The wedding dress.
Abruptly, she broke off the kiss. Panting, she sprang to her feet. Her eyes were wide and incredulous as she gazed down at a surprised Jordan.
“It’s you!” she cried. “It really is you.”
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