Last Chance at Love. Gwynne Forster

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Last Chance at Love - Gwynne Forster Mills & Boon Kimani Arabesque

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her shoulders, setting off her smooth ebony complexion and large dreamy eyes that promised a man everything. Her simple red dress heightened the beauty before him; and though she seemed unaware of it, she’d captured the attention of nearly every man present. He smiled to himself; at least he wasn’t the guy on the outside. He was about to remark that he liked her hair down, when it hit him that it was indeed she who he had seen in Blues Alley.

      Watch it, Jake. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt the need to give himself that lecture. “You’re different with your hair down, softer and—”

      “Approachable?”

      She had more red flags than anybody he knew. “I was going to say vulnerable, but you wouldn’t like that either, would you? Let’s be friends for tonight and leave aside the one-upmanship, shall we?” He glanced up from his menu for a look at the smoke he expected to see, but to his surprise, he caught her in an unguarded moment, her vulnerability unsheltered. He folded the menu and put it on the table. She might make him eat the words, but he had to say them.

      “You’re so beautiful. Lovely. I’d give anything if we’d met under more favorable circumstances.”

      “Thank you...I think. We’re going to keep our relationship a business one, Jake. No one knows better than I the folly of doing otherwise.”

      He took a few seconds to ponder what she’d revealed. “Nothing’s going to happen that we don’t want to happen. So, there’s no point in losing sleep over it.”

      They gave their orders and ate in silence, each aware that he’d admitted the possibility of their becoming involved emotionally and that she hadn’t denied it.

      Her gaze followed his hand as he brushed aside the black strands that hung over his eyes. “That’s the second time you’ve alluded to that,” she said as her soft musical lilt caressed him and he thought he heard a tone of resignation in her voice.

      “Probably won’t be the last time, either. But, as I said, you’ve nothing to fear from me.” Her broad smile sent his heart into a tailspin, and he wondered, not for the first time, whether he shouldn’t cancel his agreement with The Journal. And with her. He aimed to find a caring woman who radiated peace, and that ruled out the contentious female before him.

      They finished what he considered an average meal and he fished in his pocket for a credit card. “Do you have any pets?” he heard himself ask.

      She knitted her eyebrows and shrugged her left shoulder, a habit that seemed like a protective reflex. “I have a one-eyed goose that follows me around, but she’s mean. When I don’t give her the attention she wants, she attacks me.”

      He stared in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

      She shook her head. “Definitely not. I wear a lot of goose-inflicted scars as proof of her devotion.”

      He grinned at the picture floating through his mind. “A half-blind goose that gets temperamental and turns on you. I’ll be doggoned.” Standing, he held out his hand to her, and after seconds of hesitation, she took it. Sensations raced from his fingertips to his armpits, and he knew he’d erred.

      “What about the bill? I’m on an expense account, too, Jake.”

      “I was raised—”

      She groaned. “Don’t bother; I know the rest. And since I was taught not to draw public attention to myself, I’ll let it slide. For now.”

      They walked toward Rockefeller Center, and he couldn’t help marveling at the change in her. She exuded youthful joy, unconsciously seducing him, alerting him to the softer, gentler woman who he suspected lived somewhere inside her and whom he’d like to know better.

      * * *

      Here and there in the crisp, calm night, Christmas lights still twinkled from trees that had been decorated with them almost a year earlier; a horn blared its impatience and a hundred others replied; a tall man wearing a white sheet draped over his body strolled along with a python slung around his neck and a sign in his hand that proclaimed The End Has Come and Gone; This is Forever. Why had she never noticed that walking along a street could be such an exhilarating experience? Allison wanted to laugh aloud at the shocked expression on a woman’s face when, thinking her a beggar, she reached into her coat pocket for one of the dollar bills that she’d put there for the beggars she met and handed it to the woman. The bizarrely dressed woman had stood with one empty hand outstretched while the woman beside her proffered a flier. When she and Jake stopped for the corner light, Allison glanced at the flier, saw an advertisement for a triple-X-rated show, and let the laughter that bubbled up in her throat have its way.

      She’d barely recovered from her mistake when a painted man on stilts grinned down at her and said, “Hello, lovely thing. Come fly with me.”

      Caught up in the fun, she surprised herself by answering, “Sorry. I forgot to bring along my wings.” She couldn’t refrain from laughing as he strutted on his way.

      Jake’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around her arm, and she glanced up to see a smile aglow on his face. An intimate smile, not the studied brightness that he wore for his public. A pervasive contentment enveloped her, but when her mind warned of danger, she tried without success to push back the feeling. She’d traveled that road before, and she knew she’d better dispel the sense of rightness that being with this stranger, a business associate, gave her.

      * * *

      “What is it, Allison? Am I losing you already?” Jake asked her, resisting the temptation to sling his arm around her waist.

      “Not...not really,” she said with seeming reluctance, and he knew he’d disconcerted her; she wouldn’t want him to understand her so well. Her unexpected feminine softness reached the man in him, and against his better judgment, he took her hand in his and clasped it tightly as they walked along Forty-ninth Street. At the Plaza in Rockefeller Center, they gazed at the flags of all nations, the chrysanthemums, lilies, and shrubs, and the crowds—people from all over the world—that milled around looking for something to happen.

      “Oh, Jake,” she said, her voice warm with enthusiasm, “this is the first time I’ve seen Rockefeller Plaza at night with the lights and flags. It’s...like a fairyland. Gee, I wish I had my camera. Listen! That’s Gershwin’s ‘Love Walked In.’ Where’s it coming from? This is wonderful.”

      She didn’t resist when he pulled her closer. But she’ll probably go into a rage if I try this tomorrow morning, he cautioned himself. The gaiety and childlike stars in her eyes played like tiny fingers on his heartstrings. Squeezing. Tugging. He gazed down at her, thinking of the change she’d undergone since they left the restaurant. How could a person have two such distinct personalities? “Is there anything you’ve always wanted to do in New York and haven’t done?” he asked her.

      “Ride through Central Park in a hansom,” she blurted out. “I always dreamed of doing that, but...” To his amazement, she appeared shy. Was this the same woman with whom he had ridden up from Washington that morning? He could hardly believed what he saw.

      “But what?” he prompted.

      “I don’t...” She tugged at his arm. “Say, wasn’t that guy sitting diagonally across from our table back there in the restaurant?”

      Jake controlled the impulse to whirl around and look at the man. “What guy?” he asked

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