RUNAWAY VEGAS BRIDE

TERESA HILL

AND

VEGAS TWO–STEP

LIZ TALLEY

www.millsandboon.co.uk

RUNAWAY VEGAS BRIDE

TERESA HILL

Dear Reader,

Writers will tell you story ideas are all around us, and they truly are.

This idea came from a newspaper story about two elderly residents of a retirement home falling in love, much to the outrage of their respective families. Love in the eighties took on a whole new twist.

I took that idea and played with it, twisted it this way and that, turned it just so. It’s what writers do to make a story our own.

Who were these people who fell in love? What were they like? What reasons would their respective families have to be upset about that? How complicated could I make this? How much fun could we all have along the way?

The result is the kind of life in our eighties and even nineties that I hope all of us have: busy, fun, active, surrounded by friends and lots of love, along with glorious adventures. (And maybe a little scheming and meddling in our loved ones’ lives.)

Happy reading,

Teresa Hill

About the Author

TERESA HILL lives within sight of the mountains in upstate South Carolina with one husband, very understanding and supportive; one daughter, who’s taken up drumming (earplugs really don’t work that well. Neither do sound-muffling drum pads. Don’t believe anyone who says they do.); and one son, who’s studying the completely incomprehensible subject of chemical engineering (Flow rates, Mom. It’s all about flow rates.)

In search of company while she writes away her days in her office, she has so far accumulated two beautiful, spoiled dogs and three cats (a black panther/champion hunter, a giant powder puff and a tiny tiger-stripe), all of whom take turns being stretched out, belly up on the floor beside her, begging for attention as she sits at her computer.

To my son, John, on the occasion of his 21st birthday

and first trip to Vegas.

May your math skills and all those poker probabilities

you memorized serve you well.

And please stay far, far away from the

Love Me Tender Wedding Chapel.

Chapter One

“Darling, I’m in love!”

Jane Carlton choked on her hot tea, then covered the phone with her hand and mouthed to her assistant, “Did you say this is my grandmother?”

Lainie nodded, looking concerned. “What is it? She sounded okay. Is she okay?”

Jane threw up her hands as if to say she had no idea, then tucked the phone into her shoulder once again and said, “Gram?”

“Yes, dear. Did you hear me?”

“I…maybe,” Jane admitted. “Say it again?”

“I’m in love!”

The words came out sounding like lyrics in a musical—theatrical, whimsical, larger-than-life.

There was just one problem.

The women in Jane’s family didn’t do love. They didn’t do forevers.

Oh, they had men in their lives. But they made no mistakes about it involving anything as substantial and long-lasting as love.

Jane had learned that the hard way.

“Gram, I thought—”

“I know. I know! That’s why it’s so amazing! Me, in love, finally, at seventy-six! Who’d have believed it?”

“Wait,” Jane said, shaking her head. “Gram, you’re eighty-one—”

“He moved into one of the cottages a week ago! The most amazing man I’ve ever met in my life, Jane, and…Oh, here he comes! Leo! Over here! Over here!”

Jane’s grandma sounded like a teenager.

This was so bizarre.

Was it some kind of sudden-onset dementia that had her believing she was only seventy-six? Worst yet, could that have taken her back in her own mind to her teenage years in the four days since Jane’s last visit?

Because that’s what she sounded like, a ridiculous kid in love.

“Say you’ll come and have dinner with us so you can meet him,” Gram said. “Tonight? All right? It’s lasagna night. Goodbye, my darling girl.”

Thursdays.

Lasagna night.

One of Jane’s big dates of the week.

Thursdays was lasagna with Gram, her great-aunt Gladdy and a few of their friends from their active retirement village—they stressed the word active in all things—called Remington Park. Sunday afternoons were spent taking Gram and Gladdy shopping, maybe to a movie or brunch.

There it was, the sad truth about Jane’s big dates.

Oh, she could have found a man to go out with. Men were everywhere. But a man she truly wanted to spend time with? A man who could be depended on to show her a good time that topped a hot bath, a glass of wine and a good book?

There certainly weren’t a lot of those around, Jane had found in her twenty-eight years.

She put down the phone—forgotten by Gram, who’d gone in search of Leo, the supposed love of her life—and sighed, trying not to think Gram had more of a social life than she did.

“Is she all right?” Lainie asked, hovering as she tended to do.

“Well, she’s either forgotten her own age or she’s pretending to be five years younger to impress a man. Please tell me we won’t give a flip about impressing a man when we’re eighty-one. I mean, at that age, who really wants one? They’re bound to be more trouble than they’re worth in their eighties. I mean, I think men in their thirties are more trouble than they’re worth.”

Lainie frowned. “Jane, you think all men are more trouble than they’re worth.”

Jane considered, decided she couldn’t argue that point. “And?”

Lainie looked sad, as if she might just feel a bit sorry for Jane. “I’m just saying…Don’t you ever get lonely?”

Absently drumming the keys on the powered-off calculator on her desk, Jane considered. “Not really. I have my work, my family. I guess I’m a little lonely now that Bella’s gone—”

“Bella was a dog, Jane.”

“I know. I’ve never met a man who was nicer to me than my dog was.”

Then there was no even trying to hide it. Lainie definitely felt sorry for her, which made Jane wonder if it was really that sad, to have a beloved and recently deceased dog who was nicer to her than any man she’d ever met. But really, Jane felt lucky to have no illusions. To be honest with herself and in the way she’d put together a life of her choosing. And it was a good life. A good, satisfying life most of the time.

Sure, every now and then she got lonely, but didn’t everyone?

“Men are so unpredictable,” she complained.

“Life is unpredictable,” Lainie insisted.

“No, life with men is unpredictable.” Jane smiled, quite satisfied with that catchphrase.

She quickly scribbled it down on a list she kept handy for just these occasions. She’d come up with another great catchphrase for her work with the poor, unhappy women who hadn’t yet come to the wisdom she had, wisdom she happily shared with others in her Fabulous Female Financial Boot Camp seminars. Where she preached financial independence with the same fervor of a good old-fashioned preacher trying to save lost souls. The women in her seminars were lost, too, in a wilderness of financial ignorance, irresponsibility and the completely mistaken idea that they were helpless to assist themselves, to take control of their own financial destiny.

Men were what messed up everything.

Most women would be so much better off without them.

Jane didn’t come right out and say that, exactly, to the poor, lost female souls who came to her. She didn’t want to freak them out too badly right away, and Jane knew she could really freak people out if she wasn’t careful, being so passionate and insistent in getting her ideals across. She just told women that unless and until they were in charge of their own lives, they would never have any true independence or stability, and that who, if anyone, should be in charge of their lives except themselves?

Empowerment and enlightenment, Jane promised in the advertisements for her seminars. Changing women’s lives for the better.

Jane was completely in charge of her own life, and it was wonderfully predictable, dependable and sane.

And she liked it that way.

Wyatt Addison Gray IV got the look the minute he walked in the door at the main offices of Remington Park.

The administrator, a most aptly named Ms. Steele, was waiting for him, all starched and pressed and so buttoned-up it looked like her blouse might be strangling her, even as she stood there.

Wyatt asked himself, How bad could it possibly be? The man had only been here for a week. How much havoc could an eighty-six-year-old man possibly cause in seven days?

And come to think of it, why couldn’t his uncle be immobile like so many men his age? Maybe just stuck in a wheelchair that conveniently didn’t move, the wheels sabotaged for his own good? Was that too much to ask? Drugged into a mild haze that left him feeling no pain and causing no trouble? What would it take to arrange that? It wasn’t really illegal, was it? Drugging and restraining a troublesome eighty-six-year-old?

Wyatt tried to fortify himself for what was to come, put on his best I-can-fix-this smile and extended a hand. “Ms. Steele. What can I do for you?”

“You promised there wouldn’t be any trouble,” she said, attacking from the first word as she stood in the doorway to her office.

“Yes,” he said, pretending he believed every word he was about to say.

No trouble.

No problem.

Nothing to fix.

She gave a curt nod that said, Inside my office. Now.

Wyatt smiled reassuringly and then tried to appear calm and confident—none of which he felt—as he complied with her unspoken command.

Ms. Steele seated herself behind a desk organized with rigid precision, pen here, clock here, phone here, files neatly housed in a small holder on her desk, paper in a short stack that looked like someone had taken a ruler to the edges.

Ooh, Wyatt thought, feeling like he was a teenager and had been summoned to the headmaster’s office at boarding school. Again.

He sat back, determined to at least seem relaxed, and smiled. “What can I do for you?”

She huffed like she was already disgusted with him and his uncle, and Wyatt hadn’t even begun to make his explanations yet.

“You think those of us in the eldercare community don’t know each other?” she began. “Don’t talk? Don’t get together to share our problems and ideas on how to address them?”

Oh, hell.

He hoped not. Though he probably should have thought of that and negotiated a confidentiality clause with the other retirement homes his uncle had been in.

“Well, we do talk to each other,” Ms. Steele said. “And I did some checking. I don’t know how I let you talk me into taking him without talking to some people first—”

Wyatt knew exactly how he’d done it. It was, simply, what he did—talk people into things they didn’t want to do. He was a divorce lawyer, and what he’d found, mostly, was that by the time they got to him, people really didn’t want to divorce their spouse. They wanted to torture their spouse, mercilessly and without end, and the way to do that was to keep fighting about the divorce.

So he usually let them fight it out for a while, chalking up billable hours like crazy, until most of the fury had burned out, that gleam in their eyes about revenge giving way to exhaustion and growing financial distress, and then he talked them into what they really needed to do. Agree to the divorce.

It sounded cold and maybe a little as if he was taking advantage, but truly, he wasn’t. People needed that time to let their emotions rage, he’d discovered. It wasn’t pretty, but it was all about processing those bad, messy feelings that came from the breakup of most relationships. And without that processing time, people simply couldn’t move on.

He gave them that time, at an outrageous sum per hour, as most attorneys did, and then when he felt they were ready, he got them to agree to the actual divorce.

Wyatt liked to think he provided a much-needed service to the miserably married public, that he gave his clients a nice balance of hand-holding, emotional venting opportunities and, in the end, closure. For that, he was incredibly well paid and had learned how to talk almost anyone into anything. A skill that he never imagined he’d need in such abundance in looking after his beloved but troublesome elderly uncle in the man’s waning years.

Problem was, certain things about uncle Leo showed no signs of waning. Most distressingly, his interest in women.

When they’d come to Remington Park, Wyatt had been at his most charming, most reassuring, pushing to seal the deal without ever seeming like he was pushing, seeming like a man with no troubles at all, when he convinced Ms. Steele to take uncle Leo.

“Kicked out of three retirement homes already!” Ms. Steele commented.

It wasn’t a question. She knew it was true. Damn. “Look, he just went a little…you know—”

“No, I don’t,” Ms. Steele said. “The man’s eighty-six, not sixteen!”

“He and my aunt Millicent were together for eleven years,” Wyatt explained.

Ms. Steele didn’t seem impressed at all with the number.

Wyatt frowned. “No one in my family’s ever stayed married that long. This was the marathon of marriages for the Gray family men—a record likely to stand for the ages if history is any guide—and uncle Leo was faithful to her the entire time. He swears it. But then, when she was gone…I mean, he was devastated. Truly, he was. But he also felt like…”

“He was running out of time?” she suggested.

Wyatt nodded. “I suppose.”

“Had to get everything while he still could?”

That sounded more selfish than he’d ever considered Leo to be, but still, Wyatt conceded, “It’s possible.”

“A little like a kid in a candy store, given the fact that there are so many more women than men at his age? Or even in the age group ten or twenty years younger than he is? So many lonely women with no one to talk to? No one to flatter them? Flirt with them? Hold them? Convince them to let him take care of certain physical needs they might have forgotten, that he can bring back to life, like magic?”

“Okay, yes. He likes women,” Wyatt admitted. “Always has. And they like him.”

“Don’t expect me to see this as some sort of public service he’s offering. Servicing—if you will—lonely women,” she said, looking every bit as dour and imposing as the last administrator who’d kicked uncle Leo out of her facility. “Because I certainly don’t see it that way.”

“And how do you see it?” Wyatt asked, thinking if he knew where she was coming from, surely he could fix this.

“Like he has caused women who’ve lived together happily, some of them for years in the same cottage, to now be at each other’s throats! Like they were in high school, fighting over a boy! I won’t have it. I can’t—”

“Look, he’s a flirt—”

She frowned down her upturned nose, holding a file folder in front of her. “He’s doing more than flirting.”

Damn, Wyatt thought. Leo’s still got it. At eighty-six! A part of him couldn’t help but feel a sense of admiration and reassurance about his own twilight years.

Eighty-six and still going.

On the other hand, he could really go for Leo moderately drugged and confined to a deliberately sabotaged wheelchair in an all-male home right now.

Did they have those? All-male homes? Wyatt would have to look into it, if he couldn’t salvage this situation.

“Look, these women…He swears he doesn’t make them any promises. No commitments. I told him he had to make that clear up front, so no one would get hurt.” He’d thought about actually drafting a release, spelling it out in writing. No expectations of any permanent arrangement. And getting them all to sign before Leo got too close. “I mean, surely women still aren’t looking for a long-term commitment in their eighties? Please tell me they’re not?”

Ms. Steele looked aghast.

“He can’t help it if women like him,” Wyatt said.

“The women here got along just fine with each other until he came,” Ms. Steele reiterated. “So I don’t think the women are the problem. He is. And if he causes any more of an uproar here, he’s gone. I mean it. And you’ll have to take him out of state to find him a new home. I won’t have him doing the same thing to anyone I know in this business.”

Okay, so…it wasn’t that bad yet? They still had a chance. What a relief!

“He’ll be great,” Wyatt vowed. “Quiet, kind—without being too kind. Friendly without being too friendly. A model resident. I promise.”

Bigger lies had seldom fallen from Wyatt’s lips, he feared.

He wrapped up his meeting with Ms. Steele and went to find his uncle.

Remington Park was actually a series of small cottages, each housing eight to ten residents who had their own bedrooms and shared a common kitchen, living room and dining room. Those cottages were set around larger, more traditional assisted living apartments and a nursing home facility for people who needed a higher level of care. Once they could no longer live in the cottages comfortably, they could move next door to assisted living or the nursing home, without leaving all the friends they’d made within the community.

The whole complex also had extensive walking trails, gardens, a few small shops, a pool, a rehab center and cafeteria, and boasted of the fitness and activity level of its residents.

Wyatt thought it seemed homey, those little cottages—kind of like old-fashioned boarding houses. Plus there were the more traditional care options. He hadn’t thought, as he clearly should have, that with the place being this big, there were bound to be tons of women.

As he walked down the path that led to Leo’s cottage, he saw them. Some of them frail-looking and hunched over, some of them glossy, white-haired, beauties-in-their-day women, bare arms pumping with each step, wearing walking shorts, their toned, tanned legs moving at a pace that might even leave Wyatt breathless as they went about their exercise.

As Leo liked to say, eighty was the new sixty.

Wyatt just shook his head and thought he had to get to the gym more. He could take out some of his frustrations over Leo there, and he wanted to be in good shape, still able to chase women if he wanted to when he was in his eighties.

He got to Leo’s cottage, then to Leo’s room, but seeing it was empty, went to the kitchen and asked the young woman in the cheery yellow polo shirt the staff wore where his uncle was. But she wasn’t sure.

“He doesn’t spend much time in his room,” she said, looking like she was trying to be diplomatic and maybe was a little scared.

Wyatt wondered if she was the one who had squealed on Leo to the dragon-lady administrator. Poor girl. She didn’t look like she was much past twenty and certainly no match for Leo at his most charming or most manipulative.

“Do you have any idea where he spends most of his time, if not in his room?” Wyatt tried.

“Well, he has a new lady friend,” she admitted. “I mean…at least one new one that I know of. It’s hard to keep up, you know?”

“I know,” Wyatt admitted.

“There’s a bench on a little hill in the formal gardens overlooking the outdoor pool. You know where the outdoor pool is?”

Wyatt nodded, remembering from the tour.

“I’ve heard him say how much he likes that spot.” She leaned in closer, whispering. “The view…of the ladies at the pool, sunbathing…You know what I mean?”

“Oh, yes.”

Bathing beauties had always done it for the Gray men.

“You might try there,” she offered.

Wyatt thanked her.

He found the gardens, followed the sound of low laughter and a faint blend of ‘40s big-band music to the little hill overlooking the outdoor pool.

There was the bench, but no Leo.

Then Wyatt heard giggling.

Leo had always had a knack for making the women laugh.

Around a bush, a cypress tree and a decorative rock wall, there was a more secluded bench and Leo with his arms around a lovely white-haired woman, her head laid back against his arm as she gazed up at him adoringly. He bent down to kiss her, his hands starting to wander.

“Leo,” she said, still giggly, pushing one wandering hand away. “We just met!”

Wyatt rolled his eyes and swore under his breath.

Leo copping a feel at eighty-six, just like a damn teenage boy with more hormones than functioning brain cells.

Was there some sort of anti-Viagra? Something they could slip into Leo’s nightly bourbon and Coke? Maybe that would do the trick.

Wyatt strode forward, calling out to his uncle as he did. The lady jumped up and away from Leo, blushing like an innocent young miss.

Leo got to his feet, too, smiling for all he was worth. “Wyatt, my boy. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I think you know,” Wyatt said.

Chapter Two

“But, I know the pay for aides in a retirement community is not good.” Abysmal, actually. How could any woman live on that, and the workers here were primarily female, as the lowest-paid workers most usually were, Jane knew.

“Yes,” Amy admitted. “But all I have is my GED. You don’t make a lot of money with a GED.”

“Which is why going back to school is so important,” Jane said.

“And costs a ton of money. Where would I get the money?”

“There are programs to loan money to people who are furthering their education. I’ll bring the paperwork here. We can fill it out together.”

“And then what? Classes at night? Working all day? When am I going to see Max? I’m all he has. And I can’t afford to pay someone to take care of him all the time.” Amy looked tired suddenly, taking care of too many people for too long with no one to help her.

“Do it now, and you’ll be grateful for the rest of your life and Max’s. No more living paycheck to paycheck. Think about it. Job security, health insurance. You can do it. I know you can,” Jane promised, trying not to break into her basic speech on education and financial well-being with all the bells and whistles, the cheerleading, the chants, the whole bit.

She tended to do that, even when she wasn’t on the podium conducting a seminar, and it made some people uncomfortable.

“I’ll think about it,” Amy said. “But I just don’t see how I can make it work.”

“I do. I’ve helped thousands of women just like you get back to school and get good jobs—”

“Jane?” Gram said, as she and Gladdy came around the corner and into the kitchen. “Don’t nag, dear. Amy loves it here, and we can’t imagine this place without her.”

“Sorry, Amy.” Jane took a breath and hoped she truly did look sorry.

Gram thought Jane was too militant in her ways, crusading for women’s financial freedom and security.

Of course, Gram and Gladdy’s idea of financial security was a man, a well-to-do man. Jane had finally convinced them to at least ask for gold and diamonds as gifts from their various admirers. Gold and diamonds held their value quite well and could always be sold, if need be. Stock certificates and bonds in divorce settlements worked well, too. They’d been involved with enough men, by this age, to have accumulated smartly diverse and extensive investment portfolios, something of which Jane, who’d handled their finances for years, was very proud.

“Don’t worry.” Amy laid her hand on top of Jane’s. “It’s fine. And it’s nice to have someone who cares.”

“I do,” Jane promised. “If you ever decide to leave here, or they catch you bringing Max to work one day, promise to call me.”

“Jane!” Gram said again.

“You know the administrator would fire Amy if she ever caught Max here during Amy’s working hours,” Jane argued in her own defense.

“We love Max and Amy, and we are very good at hiding Max when necessary,” Aunt Gladdy said. “Plus, we have our eyes out for a nice young man for Amy. We’re going to find her someone fabulous!”

Jane groaned, then looked pleadingly at Amy. “A man is not the answer.”

“They are to some things,” Amy countered. “I’ve been alone a long time, if you know what I mean.”

“Okay, men have their uses,” Jane admitted. “Limited at best, but they are not the answer.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” a lively older man claimed, smiling as he took his place by Gram’s side and leaned over to give her a little kiss on the cheek. “I’d have to say it depends on exactly what the question is.”

Though he looked younger, Jane would bet money he was at least eighty, maybe older, just because she knew men seemed to think they were entitled to a younger woman, the younger the better.

Her father had already married and divorced two women younger than Jane. Why was that, exactly, that they thought they were entitled to younger and younger women? Didn’t they know how ridiculous they looked? Running around with wives younger than their daughters?

Jane had never been able to figure that one out.

And she feared she disliked Leo Gray on sight.

Gram gave him a dazzling smile, which faded fast after Leo greeted her and then turned to give Gladdy the same treatment, little kiss on the cheek and all. Gladdy glowed for a moment, then caught Gram’s look and eased maybe an inch farther away from Leo.

So…Gladdy liked him, too?

Not good, Jane thought. Really not good.

She tried to comfort herself by remembering that in all their years together, Gram and Gladdy had never fought over a man. Surely they wouldn’t start now.

Gram put her hand on Leo’s arm and said, “Leo Gray, meet my favorite granddaughter, Jane Clayton. Jane, darling, this is Leo.”

Jane held out her hand, only to find Leo clasping it in both of his and slowly bringing it to his lips for the barest hint of a kiss. “Well, she is just as adorable as you said, Kathleen. I can see now what you must have looked like as a girl, you gorgeous thing.”

Adorable?

Girl?

He made it sound like Jane was six. She fumed but said nothing, not wanting to embarrass Gram.

This was going to be a very long dinner.

“Men have their uses. Limited at best…”

Wyatt caught that much as he followed Leo through the cottage door, then hung back, not wanting to walk into the middle of that particular conversation. Leo, of course, had no reservations about getting into anything with any number of women, kissing his new lady-love, Kathleen, and her friend, which Wyatt could see didn’t go over so well with Kathleen.

Jeez, right in front of her like that? What was Leo thinking?

And the granddaughter, Jane, the adorable girl, had just met Leo and already she was fuming on her grandmother’s behalf.

Wyatt decided navigating this room was going to take all the diplomatic skills he possessed, that he’d rather step in between feuding spouses on the way to divorce court than this particular group.

Bracing himself, he walked to Leo’s side.

“My nephew Wyatt dropped by for a few minutes. To take care of some business for me,” Leo said. “He met Kathleen in the garden by the pool earlier. Gladdy, my dear, Jane, meet Wyatt. Wyatt, these two lovely ladies are Kathleen’s cousin Gladdy and her granddaughter, Jane.”

Wyatt smiled and nodded to Gladdy, a shorter, more gently rounded version of Kathleen with the same pretty white hair. He would have done the same to Jane, but she stood ramrod straight and extended a hand, giving him a firm, businesslike handshake, which he returned in the same manner, fighting the urge to snap to attention and salute at the way she held herself.

He hoped he passed her little test, being properly businesslike and not trying the bowing-over-the-back-of-the-hand kiss Leo favored in greeting all women, whether they were five or one hundred and five.

Wyatt anticipated Jane might have slapped him if he’d tried it. He’d seen her reaction to Leo’s patented move, after all.

She was obviously going for the classic power-suit look some women favored, and she might have pulled it off. She had the matching skirt and jacket in power-red, a no-frills white blouse, hair raked back from her face in a severe knot and carried her leather briefcase by her side.

It was just that Jane was pint-size, maybe five foot two, Wyatt guessed.

She looked like a dress-up doll in that outfit. Like a little girl who’d been sneaking into her mother’s closet.

It was cute, really, if a man liked that sort of thing, though he was certain that was not the look she was going for.

His mouth twitched, amusement warring with the need not to offend her or to show any undo interest. After all, she already thought Leo was an awful flirt. Wyatt didn’t want her to think all the Gray men were like that.

“Well, it was lovely to meet you all,” Wyatt said. “I won’t keep you from your dinner. Leo, just don’t forget what we talked about, okay?”

“Wyatt, you’re not staying for dinner?” Kathleen asked.

“Oh, honey, it’s my fault,” Leo said. “I didn’t know he was coming by today, and I didn’t call in time to make a reservation for him.”

Wyatt hadn’t been here for dinner yet. He usually took Leo out to a restaurant nearby. But he knew guests were welcome, for a slight meal fee and with a few hours’ notice, to make sure there was enough for everyone in the cottage who wanted to eat that evening.

“Sorry, ladies. Another time,” he responded, thinking how happy he was to escape this little group.

“Oh, you’re welcome to stay,” Amy piped up from the kitchen. “We have a resident who has a sore throat and just told me that she wasn’t coming to dinner tonight. So there’s plenty.”

Wyatt tried to keep the pained expression from his face, knowing it might be smart to stay and see firsthand what the problem was, maybe even talk to Leo’s new lady himself and set her straight about Leo’s abysmal record with women, much as he dreaded the idea.

“Well, in that case, I’d be happy to join you,” he said.

Leo held out a chair for Kathleen, and Wyatt did the same for Gladdy, then hesitated over doing so for Jane, feeling she would see it as an insult to her abilities to pull out her own chair, rather than plain, old-fashioned manners.

He played it safe and stood back, indicating that she should take her choice of seats, the one next to Gladdy or Kathleen. Leo, of course, seated himself between the two women at the small, round table. Jane picked the seat next to Gladdy, leaving Wyatt the one next to Kathleen.

Everything was fine for a while. The food was actually outstanding. He joined the others in heaping praise on the very young-looking girl who had made and served the meal.

Amy, a bit flustered by the attention, fumbled the fork on his empty plate as she removed it, and Wyatt and Jane both hurried to bend over and pick it up.

And that’s when Wyatt—and unfortunately Jane—saw it.

They already knew Leo was leaning comfortably toward Kathleen, his arm stretched across the back of her chair, his hand cupping her far shoulder. But now that they’d bent over to pick up the fork, they could see he was also holding hands under the table with Gladdy! He pulled his hand away when they bent over, but not quickly enough.

Jane gave an outraged huff, her mouth falling open, eyes shooting sparks at Wyatt under the table. Wyatt, hoping he looked properly shocked to Jane, picked up the fork and slowly straightened.

He handed the lost fork to Amy, then got another zinging look from Jane. Gladdy, he noted, had the grace to blush and carefully bring both her hands to the top of the table, clasping them together almost in a prayer-like motion.

Begging them not to tell?

Leo, the idiot, looked relaxed as could be, and Kathleen perhaps a bit confused, but smiling all the same in that lovely way of hers.

Wyatt wiped his mouth with his cloth napkin and as unobtrusively as possible, leaned toward Jane and whispered, “Meet me at that bar across the street after this? We need to talk.”

Her seething look said, Yes, we certainly do.

Chapter Three

“What in the world is wrong with that man?” Jane demanded, upon entering the bar, not even bothering to sit down.

Wyatt had selected a table in the far corner, wanting privacy and anticipating that this conversation might get loud at some point. Not thinking she’d walk in and stand there, all puffed up and mad, trying to glare down at him. A ridiculous attempt, given how tiny the woman was.

Even sitting down, he could very nearly look her in the eye.

And she was really adorable when she was spitting fire like that. Not that Wyatt would dare tell her. She already had a terrible opinion of the men in his family.

“Is he demented in some way that isn’t quite obvious to a person untrained in geriatric medicine?” Jane asked, hands on her hips, still filled with anger.

“Unfortunately not,” Wyatt told her.

“Unfortunately?” She enunciated each syllable like he might be demented himself and didn’t quite understand the big word.

“Yes. If he was actually impaired in some way, he’d have some excuse for his behavior,” Wyatt admitted. “Jane, I’m very sorry, but there’s simply no excuse. It’s just the way he is. Always has been. He’s like a kid in a candy store where women are concerned.”

He had her agreeing with him for a minute, maybe even sympathizing, and then she started seething again.

“Kid in a candy store? Like women are all laid out in a row, his for the taking, waiting for him to pick which one he wants?”

“Unfortunately, yes. He’s just that…“ Wyatt would have said confident, but stopped himself. He thought she might have hit him, if he had. “Look, I know it’s…offensive, especially to someone like you—”

“Someone like me?” She practically spit the words at him.

“A modern woman,” he said, trying desperately to save himself now. “An enlightened woman. A strong, successful, extremely capable woman.”

Who doesn’t think she needs a man for anything at all. He got it. He understood her perfectly, he believed. Oh, yes, he did, because his last words placated her a bit.

“Look, the man was born in a different era. He was raised to see women and relationships differently than we do today,” Wyatt tried, not about to explain that his father, twenty years Leo’s junior, thought of women the same way and that he’d been raised much in the woman-as-candy-in-a-store philosophy, too.

“That’s really no excuse for his behavior,” Jane said, not quite as militant-sounding as before.

“I know. Believe me, I do, and I’m sorry.” Wyatt dared to pull out the seat next to him and offer it to her. “Jane, please, sit down. Let’s talk about this. Let me get you a drink. God knows, I need one after dealing with Uncle Leo.”

She looked a bit miffed, like she’d been winding up for a really great fight or a rant on women’s rights, and he was depriving her of that opportunity by agreeing with her and apologizing. It was one of Wyatt’s greatest weapons—being able to soothe outraged females. He was a master at work right now, even if he did say so himself, much like Leo in that gigantic candy store of women.

Jane sat, still looking as if she didn’t trust him a bit, but not foaming at the mouth or anything. With Jane, he decided, that was progress.

He motioned for the waitress who’d been hovering a few feet away, figuring out if they were really going to start a fight at the bar and how she might handle it. She came to the table, looking a bit nervous but calming down as Jane stayed silent.

At his quiet question about her drink preference, Jane looked a bit sheepishly at the waitress and murmured, “White wine spritzer, please.”

Wyatt tried to contain a grimace at the idea of wanting to dilute good wine with anything, at the idea of such a sissy, girly drink. Jane didn’t seem girly at all. Maybe she didn’t approve of really drinking. She was prim and buttoned-up after all.

“You’re going to make fun of my drink?” she asked, apparently not going to let him get away with anything.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Wyatt insisted. Then asked for a bourbon, straight up.

Jeez, the woman was prickly.

The waitress nodded, promised to bring their drinks right away, and then escaped, looking quite happy to get far, far away from them.

Wyatt sat back in his chair, trying to look relaxed and in perfect control of the spitfire that was Jane. “So, as I said before, my uncle’s attitude toward women is inexcusable. Outdated, sexist, arrogant, immature. I realize that. I freely admit it and apologize sincerely for it.”

Jane gave him an odd look, hopefully discarding the next three insults she had planned to hurl at him over Leo’s behavior.

Good. They were getting somewhere.

“If there was anything I could do to change the way he behaves, believe me, I would have done it years ago. It’s caused him and me enormous amounts of trouble and grief. But I fear, at eighty-six—”

“Eighty-six? He told Gram he was only eighty-one.”

“Well, he’s not,” Wyatt went on. “Honestly, a woman can’t believe a word that man says, and unfortunately, I simply cannot change him. I’ve tried. So, at this point, all I can do is be completely up front about…how he is…and hope that saves women like your grandmother and great-aunt from being hurt by him.”

“That’s it? That’s your solution?”

Wyatt shrugged, trying to look both reasonable and helpless at the same time. “I don’t know what else to do. He’s a grown man. I have virtually no control over him. Any more than you can control your grandmother—”

“My grandmother’s not the one running around with two different people at the same time.”

Wyatt could only pray it was merely two women for Leo at the moment.

“I was just hoping,” he explained quietly, “that your grandmother might be more…reasonable…to deal with than my uncle. That once we explain to her…the way he is…”

“You want to tell her that he’s a complete cad and a liar?” Jane asked.

“Better than her finding out on her own. And, actually, I thought you might tell her. That the news might be easier coming from you. But if you think it should come from me, of course, I’ll do it.”

Jane’s mouth fell open, literally.

The waitress returned with their drinks. Jane didn’t touch hers. Wyatt downed his in one long gulp.

“Another, please?” he asked the waitress before she left.

Jane leaned toward him, whispering urgently, “My grandmother thinks she’s in love with him!”

Wyatt sighed, feeling a headache coming on. “He’s only been there a week.”

“I know. It’s ridiculous, I admit, but she does! What in the world does he do to these women?”

Wyatt could only shake his head in wonder. He refrained from saying that surely any woman who could believe she was in love in a week’s time was, perhaps, just asking to get hurt.

He wouldn’t dare say that to Jane.

She sat back in her chair, looking sad and worried. “You have to understand, my grandmother has never been in love before. She’s had men, of course. She’s a beautiful woman.

Been married a number of times, and been genuinely happy for a time with a man, but she’s never claimed to be in love. She doesn’t even believe in love, as far as I know.”

“So what the devil happened between the two of them?”

“I have no idea.”

Jane sat back in her chair, taking a sip of her wine spritzer. What could this man possibly find offensive about a white wine spritzer?

But on the topic of Leo, she had to concede to herself at least, that for a man, Wyatt Gray was being exceedingly reasonable, much as she hated admitting it.

He had acknowledged his uncle’s bad behavior and didn’t really try to make excuses, merely admitting he was incapable of controlling the man. Jane had tried for decades to change Gram and Gladdy’s attitudes toward life in general and men in particular without much success. Except for getting control of their finances. So she had to empathize with Wyatt’s own troubles where his uncle was concerned.

“What about Gladdy?” Wyatt asked finally. “She doesn’t think she’s in love with Leo, does she?”

“I have no idea. I couldn’t believe they were holding hands under the table. It’s like something twelve-year-olds would do.”

Jane felt awful remembering that soft, warm glow on Gladdy’s face. She’d looked delighted with their intimate dinner at first, and Jane had simply thought Gladdy was happy for Gram, silly as that would be, because Gladdy didn’t believe in love any more than Gram did.

“They’ve never fought over a man before,” Jane confided. “And they grew up together, moved into their first apartment together and have lived together off and on ever since. The thought of a man coming between them is unthinkable.”

And yet, Jane had seen with her very own eyes the way Gladdy looked at Leo and Leo looked at her. And Gram!

That little weasel of an eighty-six-year-old man!

“I suppose we could start by talking to Gladdy,” Wyatt offered. “Appeal to her sense of friendship and devotion to your grandmother, and at the same time, tell her the sad, hard truth about Leo. That might, at least, keep him from coming between the two women.”

Jane nodded sadly. “It would be a start.”

“Just tell me what you want, Jane. I’ll do whatever you think would be best. If you want me to talk to Gladdy, I will. I’ll be unmerciful in explaining Leo’s lifelong habits with women.”

“Short of hog-tying your uncle to his bed and locking him in his room—”

“Believe me, I’ve wished I could.”

Which actually had Jane smiling a bit.

Wyatt Gray was a reasonable man, and Jane had found that so few men were. She regretted how things had started out between them.

“I’m sorry if I behaved badly toward you at first,” she said, because a polite, well-bred, empowered woman always acknowledged her own unfair treatment of others and apologized. “Gram and Gladdy…Well, I just adore them both, and looking out for them hasn’t always been easy, but believe me, they need someone to look out for them and I try my best.”

Wyatt gave her a reassuring smile and let one of his hands settle softly over hers on the table between them. “I’m sure you do your absolute best for everyone you care about.”

Which was just so nice of him.

People sometimes thought Jane could be overzealous and maybe even a bit aggressive in her attempts to take care of others, when she truly never wanted to do anything but help. Women could just be so mixed up about some things, have such wrong ideas, and she felt it was her calling to straighten them out, to educate them, to help extricate them from the troubles they found themselves in. It wasn’t a job to Jane. It was her calling, her mission in life.

“That’s incredibly kind and generous of you,” she admitted. “Especially when I yelled at you at first.”

“It’s completely forgotten,” he promised, smiling once again.

She could see a bit of Leo in him when he smiled like that. The dangerous charm, that wicked twinkle in his eye. Not that he was flirting with her or anything like that. He’d been perfectly respectful during their exchange. Some men thought flirting was as natural and expected as breathing in any exchange between the sexes, even the most businesslike. Something of which Jane naturally disapproved.

But Wyatt hadn’t been like that at all.

Still, the dangerous charm was there lurking below the surface in the man, even if he didn’t turn it on every time with all women. But when he did…

Jane shivered just a bit, thinking he really was too good-looking for any woman’s good and likely too used to getting his way with women, just as Leo was. She couldn’t let herself forget that.

Not that Jane ever really forgot herself with a man.

“Well,” she said, feeling a little warm and uneasy suddenly. “I suppose the best thing would be to talk to Gladdy first. I’ll try it myself and see how it goes.”

“And if that isn’t enough, I’ll talk to her. Just give me a call,” Wyatt offered, pulling out a business card and scribbling down a phone number on it. “My office and personal numbers. Feel free to call anytime, Jane.”

She pulled out a card of her own, wrote her private number on it and handed it over to him. Picking up his card, she saw Wyatt Addison Gray IV, attorney at law, with what she knew was a pricey downtown address.

“What kind of law?” she asked.

“Divorce.” His mouth twitched, trying to hold back what she suspected would be a mind-numbingly gorgeous grin. “I have to admit, it seemed to come naturally to me. I saw so many of them in my family as I was growing up.”

Jane nodded. “Me too. What was the longest marriage in your family?”

“Leo’s last one. Eleven years.”

“Wow. Impressive,” Jane declared. “We never managed to do better than six.”

Wyatt shrugged, as if to say, What are you going to do?

“I think we’re going to work together well to handle this little problem,” Jane told him, quite pleased with herself and Mr. Wyatt Addison Gray, Esquire.

“I do, too, Jane.”

Jane felt like a dynamo the next morning, charging through her routine with even more enthusiasm and effectiveness than usual. Powering through her morning kickboxing class, getting to the office early, proofing the copy for her latest ad campaign for her Fabulous Female Financial Boot Camp, even sketching out ideas for a series of advanced classes for women who’d mastered the principles laid out in the first seminar.

She felt like she could do anything.

Her assistant, Lainie, showed up at the usual time, looking puzzled at the way Jane rattled off a list of things she already needed Lainie to take care of.

“You didn’t have one of those energy drinks again, did you?” Lainie asked. “I told you, Jane, your system really can’t handle those. You’re already on overdrive. You don’t need the boost.”

“Of course not.” Jane looked puzzled. “After all, a well-rested, well-nourished woman doesn’t need artificial stimulants.”

She reached for her notepad, always close at hand, and started scribbling.

“Sorry,” she said, quite pleased with herself. “I need to write that down. I’m thinking about working on a book of my philosophies. Financial advice for women is such a nice niche market these days, and it would be a wonderful cross-promotion for my seminars. Don’t you think?”

“Sure,” Lainie said, still frowning.

“What?”

“It’s just that…you seem…happy.”

“I am almost always happy,” Jane insisted.

Lainie looked skeptical. “I think you might have been whistling when I walked in.”

Jane thought back. Had she been? And what if she was?

“How did things go with your grandmother yesterday? Did you meet this man she claims to love?”

“Oh, yes,” Jane said. “A complete cad, but Wyatt and I will take care of the situation.”

“Wyatt?”

“The man’s nephew. Wyatt Addison Gray IV. I have to say, I disliked him on sight as we sat down to dinner, but then we went across the street to this bar and had drinks afterward, and he was completely open and honest and reasonable. Altogether, a remarkable man.”

Lainie gaped at her. “You met a man you think is reasonable?”

Jane nodded.

“And honest?”

“I told you, a remarkable man,” Jane repeated even more emphatically than before.

“And you had dinner and drinks? Like…a date?”

“I date,” Jane insisted.

“Not in this calendar year,” Lainie reminded her.

“I’m just very selective about the men I find worthy of my consideration and time.”

Lainie’s bottom lip curled over her teeth, and she looked like she might bite herself to keep from replying to that, but finally gave up the battle and said, “And when you do, you don’t show up in the office whistling the next morning. If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you and Wyatt Gray didn’t end things with dinner and drinks last night.”

“Of course we did. I would never take a man home with me that I’d just met, and going home with him would be just as risky and irresponsible.” And Jane never took irresponsible risks. “Besides, this wasn’t a date. It was dinner at the retirement park with Gram, Gladdy and Wyatt’s uncle, the cad. Assessing the situation we’re facing with them.”

“And the drinks afterward?” Lainie prompted.

“A place to talk without them present, where Wyatt and I found out that we’re in complete agreement that the relationship between his uncle and Gram has to be stopped. We plotted our strategy to make that happen.”

“Of course,” Lainie said. “I just got so excited when you said you met a man you think is reasonable.”

“Well, I’m sure there are a few of them in the world,” Jane admitted.

Granted, that might be considered a rather large concession on her part to the quality of men alive on the planet at this moment. But she did consider herself a reasonable woman, and a reasonable woman would have to concede that Wyatt Gray had not been what she’d first thought.

“I’ll even admit we had a very interesting and enlightening conversation,” Jane said, thinking she was being exceedingly reasonable and fair-minded now.

“Okay, tell the truth. He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” Lainie asked with a knowing gleam in her eyes.

“That had absolutely nothing to do with…anything,” Jane insisted, thinking, oddly, that she felt a little…tingly inside and just a tad overly warm all of a sudden.

How odd.

Lainie laughed.

“It didn’t,” Jane corrected. “You know I always say the worst thing in the world a woman can do, besides depend on a man financially, is to judge one by his looks. I would never, ever do that. In fact, the best-looking men are almost always the most spoiled and immature.”

It was true. She knew it. Long experience with the women in her family had proven it.

“We must be talking Greek God in a designer suit here,” Lainie claimed.

“He was beautifully dressed,” Jane admitted, again only trying to be fair.

And still, feeling that unusual, unsettling tingly warmth inside her.

“You know, I may be coming down with something,” she told Lainie. “Does it feel warm in here to you? Could you check to see if anyone messed with the thermostat?”

Chapter Four

Jane waited until Gram was at her regular tennis lesson two days later, because normally Gram and Gladdy were practically inseparable, and then went to do her duty, to save poor Gladdy from Wyatt’s ill-behaved uncle.

Jane pasted on a fake smile, walked into Gladdy’s room, and—

“Oh, my God!”

It looked like Gladdy and Leo were…necking on the love seat! Gladdy had her head on Leo’s shoulder, and his was bent over hers. When Jane burst in, Gladdy gave a start and her head popped up, banging into Leo’s forehead.

Jane stood there, astonished and really, really mad on both Gladdy’s and Gram’s behalf.

“Oh, Jane, dear, will you ever learn to knock?” Gladdy asked, practically giggling.

Giggling?

Jane worked herself up into a good, steaming rage and pointed her finger at Leo, who didn’t look guilty in the least over what he’d done. “You,” she said, advancing on him. “Get your hands off my aunt! Right now! Now!”

She’d beat him off with her briefcase if she had to. Jane lifted it up and back, preparing to take a swing.

Leo Gray stood up, all too slowly for Jane’s current mood, smoothed out his shirt, brushed back the bit of hair on the sides of his head and looked for all the world like he was the insulted party here.

“Girly,” he said. “You’ve got to learn to have a little fun.”

Jane’s mouth fell open.

Girly?

He’d called her Girly!

“I’ll have you know that I am a twenty-eight-year-old adult woman! I am no girl,” she yelled after him, as he left Gladdy’s room. “I should have you arrested for this!”

“Arrested?” Gladdy said, taking her arm and pulling the briefcase out of her hand. “Jane, what are you doing?”

“I came to warn you about that awful man! Did he force himself on you? Tell me, because if he did, I’ll—”

“Leo Gray’s never had to force himself on a woman in his life,” Gladdy insisted. “I mean, have you looked at the man? I know you’re not seventy-five years old like me—”

“Gladdy, you’re eighty,” Jane reminded her.

“Shhhh. He doesn’t know that. A woman should never admit to her real age and never look her real age. There’s no reason to in these days. Speaking of which, Jane, darling, is it too much to ask for you to use that nice ageresistant face cream Kathleen and I bought you for Christmas? You have beautiful skin, dear, but you want to keep it that way. You’ll care about these things one day. At least, I pray that you will.”

“That I’ll worry about wrinkles one day? That’s what you pray for?”

“No, that you’ll learn how to enjoy a man and want to look your best for him.”

Jane sank down into the love seat Leo had just vacated, suddenly so tired and frustrated, she could have cried or screamed. That awful man!

“Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked Gladdy.

“Of course, I’m all right. I’m better than I’ve been in years, in fact. Nothing like a fabulous man to make a woman feel young again. I think I’m going to get my hair done and have a facial. What do you say, Jane? A facial? My treat?”

Jane felt like she might turn into a stark raving lunatic at any moment. “A facial? Gladdy?”

“Good skin care is nothing to scoff at, Jane.”

“What about Gram? You love Gram. You always have, and she thinks she’s in love with that man, that awful man—”

“He’s far from awful, and Kathleen has never been in love in her life,” Gladdy insisted. “You know that. You know what the women in our family are like.”

“Yes, but she told me that she loves him. I’ve never heard her sound this way, and if she knew what the two of you were doing behind her back. Not even behind her back,” Jane remembered. “The other night, at dinner?”

“We were holding hands. It’s hardly a crime, hardly anything at all. What a prude you can be sometimes, Jane. I just hate that for you. I want you to be happy in every way, including having a man in your life.”

“Prude?” Jane was so hurt, she could hardly speak.

Frustrated, infuriating tears filled her eyes. Prude? “I am not!”

“You’re objecting to hand-holding, my darling. If that isn’t prudish, I don’t know what is. I was holding hands with boys in first grade.”

Jane gasped, hurt. Prude? She opened her mouth to object again, and then realized if she didn’t get out of there right that minute, she was going to cry. And Jane Carlton never cried, especially in front of anyone!

“I…I…I have to go. I can’t talk to you about this right now,” she said, then got up and fled.

She was outside, hurrying down the walkway toward her car, not really watching as carefully as she should have been, when she literally ran right into Leo Gray.

“You,” she said, “Necking with my aunt? Behind my grandmother’s back! My grandmother who thinks she’s in love with you? You rat!”

He didn’t crumple or anything from the impact of their collision. The man was solid for his age. But then he grabbed her by the arms. She hated grabby men.

“Get your hands off me this instant!” she yelled.

“Calm down, girly,” he said, having the nerve to seem amused. “I’m just trying to make sure you don’t fall down.”

“I don’t need any help to keep from falling down. Let go of me this instant!”

She jerked herself away with everything she had, but he was stronger than he looked, and he didn’t let go. A haze of red came over Jane’s vision. She was so mad now, she couldn’t even see, couldn’t remember ever being this mad in her life.

It was all his fault!

Every bit of it!

Her grandmother would be brokenhearted. He’d been necking with Gladdy, Gladdy who’d called Jane a prude! And this awful man had the nerve to tell her she needed to relax?

Before she truly thought of what she was about to do, Jane pulled back the hand with her briefcase and got ready to whack him with it. She got the backswing in and was bringing her hand forward when, only then, her mind cleared just a bit so she could actually see what she was doing.

She was about to hit an old man.

A nearly ninety-year-old man!

“Oh, my God!” she cried, changing her mind right at the end of her backswing, as she started swinging her arm forward.

Could she stop it now? Was it too late?

And then she gasped as she was lifted off her feet—literally—and hauled around in the other direction.

Wyatt saw Jane and Leo having what looked like angry words, but he wasn’t really worried at first.

Then Leo put his hands on Jane, holding on to her.

Not the smartest thing to do, Wyatt was sure.

Then he saw Jane wind up to take a swing at Leo with her briefcase.

“Good God! Jane!” he yelled, barely getting to her in time.

He was in the wrong place to get between her and Leo. He was behind Jane. So he just put an armaround her waist, hauled her back against him and swung her around the other way.

Leo ducked and her briefcase went flying, landing harmlessly in the petunias in the flower bed to the right.

She screamed in pure outrage, like she was being mugged in a dark alley, kicking her feet in the air, her arms coming back to grab him. She hit him in the eye, then grabbed and thankfully got nothing but his hair. Afterward she took that handful of hair and yanked hard.

“Jane,” he hollered at first, because she wouldn’t have heard him over the racket she was making otherwise. “It’s Wyatt. Shhhh. I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you.”

He got another arm around her, this one across her hips, her body completely plastered against his as he spoke softly into her right ear. “Shhh. It’s all right.”

She stopped kicking out with her feet, stopped squirming and went still. Maybe that was even worse, because then her hips were pressed against his abdomen—sweet, curvy Jane hips. She was breathing hard, and as he lowered her to her feet, her whole body rubbed along his.

Damn, Jane.

She really would be outraged if she knew the direction of his thoughts at the moment.

He put her down and she turned around, right there in front of him, looking shocked, still more than a little mad, and all rumpled and…sexy.

Very, very sexy.

Her hair had come tumbling down from that well-disciplined knot she’d had it in yesterday. It tumbled about her shoulders and her face. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

A look of horror came over her face as she glanced from him to Leo to the crowd of retirees Wyatt now realized had come to watch this scene.

“Oh, my God!” she said, like she’d just woken up from a nightmare.

He took her carefully by the arms, to steady her and nothing more, not because he just needed to have his hands on her. “It’s okay,” he promised quietly, then turned and addressed the crowd. “Everybody’s fine here. Just a slight misunderstanding. Let’s all move along now. Nothing to see.”

Jane’s mouth fell open, and for a moment, it looked like she was going to hide her face against Wyatt’s chest to keep from having to see anyone. Not that he had any objections.

He had the feeling Jane Carlton very seldom, if ever, let herself really lose it like that, and while he wasn’t a man to condone violence, he had to admit, if any man could push a woman over the edge, it would be one of the Gray men. Leo probably deserved to be whacked with much more than the briefcase.

His mouth twitched. He was aching to grin, but tried to maintain his stern facade as Leo came cautiously closer. Wyatt eased Jane’s face against him in a loose embrace, while she hid for a moment.

Over the top of her head, he mouthed to Leo, “What the hell did you do now?”

Leo shook his head, pretending an innocence Wyatt was sure was completely fake.

“Get out of here,” he mouthed.

Before he turned Jane loose on the man.

Wyatt waited until Leo was far enough away. He felt fairly certain Jane wouldn’t chase after him, if she saw him, and then reluctantly stepped away from her.

She was shaking and felt so tiny in his arms. “You okay now?” he asked.

When she finally lifted her head, she looked a bit dazed and still horrified. “I can’t believe I did that.”

Again, Wyatt had to fight not to grin, because she looked like she was confessing to mass murder.

“Leo’s fine,” he said. “Not a scratch on him.”

“I almost hit another person!” she cried. “An old man!”

“Now that would offend him terribly. Calling him an old man and thinking he was too frail to take you on in a fight.”

“I don’t fight!” Jane cried. “I can’t. I would never. I’ve always been devoted to nonviolent ways of settling disagreements. I abhor violence in any form.”

“An admirable principle,” Wyatt assured her.

“But I could have really hurt him. I mean, I take kickboxing and self-defense classes.”

Wyatt couldn’t help it. He chuckled at that.

Jane, kickboxing? It was laughable, given her size. If her little suits weren’t so severely cut, he’d swear she had to shop in the girl’s department.

“I could have hurt him,” she insisted. “I’ve had abused women go through my seminars. And every now and then, a man gets mad at the things I’ve taught a woman and shows up at the office. I thought it was important to learn to protect myself, that every woman should.”

“Of course,” Wyatt agreed. Mad men came looking for her? Pint-size Jane? He didn’t like the sound of that at all.

“But I never believed I could resort to anything like that myself. Wyatt, this is horrible. This is completely unacceptable. One minute, I was fine, and the next, I just saw red, literally, and I was taking a swing at him.”

“Jane, I’ve nearly decked him a time or two myself, and I assure you that I too abhor violence. I’ve had abused women in my office, as well, trying to work up the courage to divorce their abusers.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, still aghast at her own behavior, standing on the walkway at the retirement park, looking around like she’d just found herself on another planet.

“It’s all right. I promise. And I’m sorry I grabbed you like that. I was just trying to keep you from hitting him.”

“And I’m so glad you did.”

“What did he do to make you so mad?”

“I went to talk to Gladdy about him, and I caught them necking in her room! And he was so awful! He called me names and said I just needed to learn to have some fun. Fun! He’s going to hurt my grandmother and Gladdy’s feelings terribly, and he thinks it’s fun!”

Jane realized she’d said it like fun was a dirty word, which she didn’t believe, and she wasn’t really a prude, was she?

“But I wasn’t really going to hit him, Wyatt, I swear! I changed my mind. Midway through that swing, I realized what I was doing and changed my mind. I just wasn’t sure if I could stop in time. My briefcase was already headed for him, and I just…I don’t…This is sooo awful!”

“Jane, it’s fine. Everyone’s fine.”

“And then you grabbed me, and I didn’t know it was you, and I—”

“I know. I didn’t mean to manhandle you. I just had to act fast, and…well, I’m sorry.”

And then she looked horrified again, raised her hand to the side of his face and said, “I hit you!”

His right eye throbbed a bit. “It’s nothing,” he insisted.

“No. It’s turning red and a little puffy.” She touched it, with her fingertips, featherlight, trying to find the extent of the blow. “Oh, my God, Wyatt! I could have put your eye out!”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“No, I’ve been trained to do that.” She seemed absolutely convinced that she could. “A man attacks you, you go for the eyes. It’s one of the most vulnerable spots on the body. Eyes, nose with the heel of your hand, groin—”

“Okay, thankfully, I came out of this unscathed.”

“No, we have to get something on that eye. Ohhh,” she fretted. “I feel awful about this. You have to let me help you.”

“Well, if you insist,” he said, turning himself over to her tender care.

Gladdy, Leo and Kathleen watched from the cover of the rhododendrons fifteen feet away.

“Ladies, I’m afraid I overplayed the scene,” Leo said.

“Nonsense. Jane overreacted,” Gram stated. “Gladdy and I should have warned you about that. Poor Jane does tend to overreact.”

“She’s got some fire in her, all right. I like that in a woman,” Leo admitted. “Couldn’t believe she actually took a swing at me. Didn’t think she had it in her.”

“It was the ‘girly’ remark,” Gladdy said. “And I may have overplayed things a bit myself with her.”

“Of course not. It worked perfectly,” Kathleen insisted. “Look at them. Jane feels terrible about what she did and Wyatt’s comforting her. It’s so sweet. They’ve known each other for less than three days and there they are. I’d say our plan to get them together is a rousing success.”

“Well, in that case, ladies,” Leo said, “would you care to join me for a celebratory drink? I have champagne chilling in the minifridge in my room. We can decide on our next move and commemorate the success of this one.”

Wyatt took Jane back to his apartment, which was a mere four blocks away—a sleek, shiny, modern, expensive loft in a high-rise on the edge of town.

Jane taking charge was something to behold. She pushed him down to sit in the middle of the big, cushy sofa the minute they had walked in the door, and told him not to move. He complied.

She got ice from the kitchen, lectured him mildly about the need to take care of himself properly once she found out he didn’t even have an ice pack, explained that one should always be prepared for life’s emergencies, then said they’d make do with a ziplock bag wrapped in a hand towel.

She came to stand behind him, took his head in her hands and eased it back against the sofa cushions. Then she placed the makeshift ice pack on his right eye.

“Keep that there while I search your bathroom. You must have some ointment and bandages somewhere.”

He sprawled on the couch, leaning back as instructed and holding the ice to his eye. He never imagined a woman giving orders to him would be so sexy. Normally, he was a take-charge kind of guy. Not that he ordered women around, either. Just that…well, he couldn’t help but wonder now exactly how Jane would be in bed.

Would all those spitfire tendencies come out? That take-charge attitude, demanding what she wanted from him?

Wyatt had a hard time imagining Jane knowing what she truly wanted in bed, much less demanding it. She was cute, but didn’t seem to have much use for men, and any woman who’d been truly satisfied in bed would have at least one use for a man, he reasoned. He suspected she was very good at pushing men away, at keeping them at arm’s length, and not that good at really letting herself go in any situation.

Not that he thought he’d see her in his bed anytime soon.

There had to be a dozen women he knew who’d be so much less trouble than Jane, although, he thought, once there, Jane would be interesting and definitely a challenge.

And Wyatt would admit to being a man who liked a challenge.

She came back a moment later and he felt the couch cushions give with her weight, as she knelt on the seat beside him, bracing her side on the back of the couch as she leaned over him.

Removing the ice pack, she frowned down at him, her face maybe an inch from his as she inspected his eye.

“It’s all red and puffy now,” she complained, sighing heavily, her warm breath brushing across his cheek, his ear.

He shivered just a bit, wondering what she’d do if he pushed her backward to lay on the couch, stretched out on top of her and started giving a few orders of his own. Would she give him a smile and wind her arms around him? More likely, she’d try to hit him again or really put his eye out this time.

The woman thought she was a champion kickboxer, after all.

Wyatt grinned, laughing a bit, unable to help himself.

“What? There’s nothing funny about this. I feel terrible, Wyatt.”

“Well, I don’t,” he said. “It’s really nothing, Jane. I can hardly feel it anymore. I assure you, I’m fine.” As long as she didn’t figure out where his thoughts were going at the moment.

She put the ice pack aside and came up with some kind of ointment, which she then very carefully spread with her fingertips along his eyelid, his brow and the side of his face. And as she got closer and concentrated harder on getting it in exactly the right place and not his eye, her body leaned into the side of his, one breast pressed against his shoulder.

He felt like someone had installed a giant neon Trouble sign in his apartment when he wasn’t looking, and that it had just flickered on and was blinking in a fire-engine red color.

Trouble, trouble, trouble!

He had real problems to deal with. Leo and his penchant for getting kicked out of retirement complexes had Wyatt worried that there would be no place in all of Maryland that would take his uncle, once Ms. Steele put the word out about him. And the easiest way to fix that problem was for Wyatt and Jane to work together.

If he made her mad, came on to her, offended her, hurt her, he doubted they’d be working together to solve the Leo problem any longer. So Ms. Jane Carlton was definitely off-limits. It would be more trouble in the long run than any short-term fling with her would be worth.

So what if she smelled really good? And had the sweetest, gentlest touch in a little spitfire of a body? Which he suspected no man had ever properly awakened before. Surely he was capable of exercising some kind of discipline where a woman was concerned.

He shifted his weight, thinking to ease away from her, and instead, set her off balance and her whole body fell against his. No question now. Those were her breasts pressed against him, her neck and her sweet, sassy Jane mouth right at the corner of his own.

She gasped in surprise, her eyes suddenly all big and round and so close to his, not blinking. Neither of them breathed for an instant.

He could have her flat on her back in a moment. Or take her by her thighs and pull her across his lap facing him, palm those pretty hips he’d had pressed against him earlier and pull her tight against him. He knew it, and if he knew anything about women, she was thinking the same thing.

Discipline, Wyatt. It’s not just a word.

“Jane,” he whispered, hardly able to believe he was actually doing this, taking her arms in his hands and steadying her, then easing her away from him, to sit on her knees on the cushion beside him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to throw you off balance like that.”

She just looked at him, sexy and baffled and maybe embarrassed, which was the last thing he wanted.

“And I’m just not sure what you want here,” he confessed. “But I know what I want, and I really don’t want to offend you.”

She seemed a little dazed, innocent. Damn.

“What I want?”

“Yes,” he said.

“I.I was just trying to fix your eye.”

“Okay.” He smiled what he hoped was an I-understand-perfectly smile and not an I-wanted-to-jump-your-bones one. “That’s what I thought you were doing. My mistake.”

“Mistake?”

She looked a little sad then, a little embarrassed. He could feel her withdrawing from him, even though she hadn’t actually moved an inch.

“I’m just. I’m a guy, okay? Some women would say, I’m not a very nice guy. That I…well, when a woman gets this close and is…touching me…I get ideas. Ideas that, I’m afraid, were not the same ideas you were having, and…well, you’re a beautiful woman, Jane.”

She scrambled to get off the couch, to get away from him, hot color blooming in her cheeks as she got all flustered. “You thought…I was coming on to you?”

He nodded, thinking honesty probably wasn’t the best policy here, that he’d offended her, when, he swore to God, he’d been trying to do the exact opposite. To keep from offending her.

Women. They could just be so hard to read, and sometimes it seemed there was no way to win. No way at all.

Come on to her and offend her? Don’t come on to her and still offend her?

What was a guy to do?

“I am so sorry,” she said.

“Jane, it’s no big deal—

She blushed even more furiously. “I would never—”

“Never?” Now that hurt. “Never?”

“I’m not. I mean to say, I don’t—”

“Don’t what?” Now he had to know. Never with anyone? No way. Not in this day and age. Or no way, no how, with him? That seemed like overstating it a bit. “What do you mean, never?”

“I don’t…throw myself at men.”

Okay, that he believed, though in his thoroughly male opinion it was a shame.

The world should be full of women who threw themselves at men. Of course, it was, he’d found, but not many of those women were like Jane.

“I’m sorry. For everything. And I just. I have to go,” she said.

“You really don’t,” he claimed.

“I do.” She turned and fled.

Wyatt swore softly and succinctly, his body humming with desire, still feeling her pressed against him, her soft hands on his face.

He was an idiot. A complete idiot where women like her were concerned.

Chapter Five

Jane Carlton did not come on to men.

At least, she didn’t think she did.

She didn’t mean to.

Her face burned when she remembered being on the couch with Wyatt the day before. He’d thought she was making a pass at him? And he’d been trying to say…he’d welcome that?

Surely not.

“You’re frowning again,” Lainie said, standing in the doorway with a batch of message slips with Jane’s calls on them. “What in the world happened to you yesterday?”

Jane, if puzzling over anyone’s behavior except Wyatt’s, would have normally turned to Gram and Gladdy for advice on men. Between the two of them, she doubted there was any situation Jane might find herself in that they hadn’t already been in themselves. But she couldn’t talk to them about Wyatt. Not when she was trying to keep his uncle away from both of them.

She figured Lainie was her best shot for help here.

“Can I ask you something about men?” Jane blurted out before she lost her nerve.

Lainie giggled.

“Why is that so funny?” Jane asked, finding Lainie’s reaction slightly offensive, maybe more than slightly.

“It’s not funny. I’m just so happy, Jane!” she said, like Jane had announced she was eloping or something.

“It’s just a question.”

“Okay. Go ahead. Please.” Lainie sounded so eager. “Anything I can do to help.”

“You think I need help with men?”

“Oh, definitely.”

No hesitation there. Jane pictured herself as a virtual wrecking yard of relationships, like there might be a sign that said, Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

“It’s about…coming on to men,” she said, wishing she’d never started this whole thing.

“Oh!” Lainie clapped her hands together like a kid who’d just received a terrific present. “This is sooooo good! Jane, I’m so proud of you. You actually want to make the first move with a man!”

“No, I didn’t say that. I’m just…trying to find out if I already did.”

“Well, that’s even better! Tell me! Tell me everything,” she begged.

Jane thought about how she might explain, then decided it would probably be better to just show Lainie. There was a love seat in Jane’s office, after all.

“Shut the door,” she instructed, then got up and walked over to the love seat. “I just…sit down and let me show you.”

“Okay.” Lainie sat.

Jane knelt on the love seat, conscious now of how hard it was to keep her balance. “Lean your head back.”

Lainie did, and Jane eased closer.

“Now, you’ve hurt your eye, and I’m…I’m trying to fix it. That’s it. Just trying to fix it. Like this, except you’re a lot taller than me, so I had to reach up higher. If I did that, would you think I was coming on to you?”

She reached up to a point past Lainie’s eye and then looked down and realized her breasts were practically in Lainie’s face when she made that move.

“Oh, no!” Jane cried.

Lainie lifted her head before Jane could move away, and then…sure enough, breasts in her face.

While Lainie giggled, Jane went to brace herself against Lainie’s body to get out of the way, but before she could do that, she heard a voice.

A man’s voice, Wyatt’s, clearing his throat and then saying, “Ladies, I’m so sorry. There was no one at the desk out front, and I…seem to have caught you at a bad time.”

Jane froze, her mouth dropping open.

This could not be happening.

Lainie looked over Jane’s shoulder. She could see Lainie taking the whole thing in. Mulling it over. Wyatt, how gorgeous he was. His eye, no doubt at least a bit bruised. Jane’s worry about coming on to a man. Jane shoving her breasts practically in his face while she tried to fix his eye and needing to reenact the whole scene to figure that out.

She was a complete idiot.

She looked to Lainie, mouthing, Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me alone with him. Please!

“Sorry.” Lainie laughed and got up from the couch. “I’m sure I have…something to do at my desk.”

Jane hung her head down and stayed there, sat back on her heels on the love seat, thinking if she never had to turn around and look at him, she might live through this day with just a shred of her dignity intact.

She heard Lainie introduce herself and Wyatt’s gloriously deep, beautiful voice saying, “Wyatt Gray. So nice to meet you.”

And then Lainie disappeared, closing the door behind her.

Jane stayed where she was and said, “If I paid you…like a million dollars, would you turn around and go away? So that we never had to talk about this?”

He laughed. Beautifully. The sound like a current zinging through her body.

And then he walked over and sat down beside her. She still perched there on her knees, not wanting to shove any part of herself into his face, either accidentally or on purpose.

He looked like a man who couldn’t be more pleased with himself or his life at this moment. Wearing a gorgeously expensive suit that wrapped faithfully around his altogether impressive body, he sat there, slightly blackened eye and all, looking completely at ease and holding a huge bouquet of exotic-looking flowers in his hand.

“Jane, I’m seldom wrong about these things, but with you. Well, I suppose it’s a possibility. I just haven’t had a lot of dealings with women like you. You don’t…like women, do you?”

“What? Of course, I like women. Women are great, women are—”

“Sexually,” he clarified.

“Oh. You mean. me and Lainie? Me and. women? That way?”

He nodded.

“No! I. No! Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But, I like men.” She got all flustered then, and kept talking, which she tended to do when flustered. Fill the silence and try to move on. “Granted, not a lot of men. But I do…like…men. I mean, I have to admit I like them more in theory than reality, but. Well. Oh, my God!”

She buried her head in her hands and gave up.

Too much information, Jane.

Way too much information.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that,” Wyatt responded. “That you like men. And that you find at least a few of us…acceptable and interesting.”

The flowers, looking lush, exotic and expensive, came into her field of view, even with her head hanging low so she didn’t have to look at him.

“These are for you,” he continued, still sounding amused. “A small token of apology, nothing else. No reason for you to worry.”

“But I hit you,” she said, taking the flowers and feeling completely inadequate at the moment as a girl. This whole girl-stuff thing had just never come naturally to her. Or maybe she just hadn’t tried hard enough or cared enough. But she’d always felt a little awkward in this area.

Even more than usual with Wyatt.

“I know, but I embarrassed you yesterday in my apartment, and it certainly wasn’t my intention.”

“No. It was me. I was. I’m so sorry—”

“Jane,” he interrupted. “Take the flowers and say thank you. Then forget about the whole thing. It’s as easy as that.”

Easy for him, maybe.

“Jane?” He touched his fingers gently to her chin and urged her to raise her head and look him in the eye.

His poor, bruised eye. It was a faded black shade. She’d really hit a man.

“I’m telling everyone a hulking two-hundred-fifty-pound man did this to me, and that I got it defending a lady’s honor. My female clients are impressed and the men are intimidated.”

She was sure the women were impressed.

“Take the flowers and say ‘thank you,’” he reminded her.

She took them and mumbled, “Thank you.”

He sat there looking as relaxed and gorgeous as could be, despite the black eye. “Now, what are we going to do about Leo and your sweet grandmother and great aunt?”

Two days later, Jane was in the middle of a youth-regenerating apricot-mint facial and pedicure—thinking it would give her some alone time with Gladdy to explain what a rat Leo really was—when she got the call.

Ms. Steele, the Remington Park administrator, insisted on seeing her immediately.

That had never happened before.

Jane promised to be there within the hour because Gladdy insisted that no meeting was worth cutting short a facial and pedicure.

As she sat in the waiting area outside Ms. Steele’s office, Jane had a sinking feeling she knew what this was about. That Ms. Steele had heard about Jane attempting to slug Leo Gray on the grounds of Remington Park.

How humiliating!

She remembered it seemed like tons of eyes were staring at her when that freakish red haze cleared—when she stopped trying to kick Wyatt in the shins and pull out his hair, thinking she was under attack and all her self-defense training she’d never had to use before was kicking in. So it wasn’t that surprising Ms. Steele would have heard about it. From what Jane had seen in the time Gram and Gladdy had been here, Ms. Steele kept a very close eye on the goingson at Remington Park. As a business owner, Jane could only applaud that kind of devotion and attention to detail.

But at the moment, she was horribly embarrassed.

She sat there getting more and more nervous, wondering how in the world she might explain herself, when Wyatt, blackened eye and all, strolled in.

Her face fell. “You’ve been summoned, too?”

He nodded, taking the seat beside her, looking much more at ease here than she did.

“I feel like I’ve been called into the principal’s office,” Jane fretted.

He laughed. “I’m going out on a limb here, but I bet you were a very good girl growing up, Jane. I bet you’ve never been called to the principal’s office before.”

“Only for good things. Like accepting awards and organizing school fund-raisers,” she admitted, sighing heavily. “How in the world am I going to explain getting into a fight on the grounds of my grandmother and aunt’s retirement park?”

“Denial is always a good start,” he began.

“Denial? You’re sitting here with a black eye.”

“And if denial is out of the question, I recommend, as a next step, downplaying the importance and scope of the situation.”

“You sound like a defense attorney now. Either that or someone who’s used to being in trouble.”

He shook his head. “Never been a defense attorney, but I did play one in moot court competition in law school. Won my cases every time.”

Jane wasn’t surprised about the wins and noted he hadn’t denied being in trouble himself. She shook her head and said, “I got Gladdy alone today at a salon. It was like talking to a Barbie doll. She ignored everything I said about your uncle and kept suggesting new skin care routines for me.”

“Wait…salon?” He leaned in close, his nose practically touching the rim of her ear, sniffing her hair, then the side of her face. “Is that why you smell so good? Good enough to eat?”

She closed her eyes, feeling all tingly and warm at the same time.

Because a man was sniffing her youth-regenerating apricot-mint facial?

She felt him breathing in that smell, the heat from his body so close, radiating toward hers. The tip of his nose gently brushed her cheek. Was it an accident?

“What is it? Peaches?”

“Apricots,” she admitted, not daring to move an inch.

She didn’t think she’d ever had actual sexual intercourse that felt this good. Her breasts ached and she thought she wanted to shove them into his face right now. She could spread apricot-mint facial cream over her whole body and then practice her coming-on-to-him skills and see how he liked it.

Jane was even regretting wearing her customary white, no-frills, all-buttoned-up blouse, because honestly, how much good could a woman do trying to stick her breasts in a man’s face when she was buttoned up practically to her chin? She was even considering undoing a few buttons, as unobtrusively as possible, when she heard a door open.

There was dead silence for a moment.

A throat was cleared quite pointedly.

When Jane glanced up, Ms. Steele, looking particularly steelish at the moment, was gaping at them both.

Face flaming, Jane turned to Wyatt. Sitting up straight in his chair now, he threw up his hands in a helpless manner and mouthed, “Sorry,” before standing, extending a hand to Jane, then leading her into Ms. Steele’s office.

They sat side by side in front of Ms. Steele’s desk. Jane looked determinedly down at the floor so she couldn’t see Wyatt, but she felt him, absolutely certain he was doing that easy yet elegant sprawl of his, perfectly comfortable in that chair, ready to brazen this out with the body language that said, Problem? There is no problem here.

The man had nerve, and it seemed he was impossible to embarrass.

What in the world must Ms. Steele think of them?

“I am so sorry for that…that…“ What to call it? Jane couldn’t think of a thing and sat there mute, feeling stupid all over again.

Wyatt shot her a hard look that said something like. Denial and downplaying, remember? You’re not helping, Jane.

Jane dared to look up at Ms. Steele, who appeared to be having a hard time believing what she’d just seen in her waiting room.

“I.” the woman began. “I wasn’t aware that the two of you knew each other.”

“Oh, we don’t,” Jane claimed, then realized how ridiculous that sounded, given the fact that they were just in the waiting room, Wyatt practically nuzzling her cheek. Would what he did really be considered nuzzling? Or had he just been smelling her fruity facial? “My grandmother, my aunt and Wyatt’s uncle introduced us. They know each other. That’s all.”

“Oh, I’m aware that they know each other,” she said, emphasis on the word know.

Jane felt like sinking down in her chair and trying to hide.

Wyatt, still brazening it out, asked, “Is there something we can do for you, Ms. Steele?”

The woman’s lips got all funny and stiff, as if she sternly disapproved of Wyatt, maybe of both of them. Jane couldn’t be sure.

“You could tell me,” Ms. Steele said, “why I have very odd and difficult-to-believe, yet remarkably consistent reports, that you, Jane, attacked this man’s uncle on the walkway outside the blue cottage shortly before noon yesterday.”

Before she could say anything, Wyatt chuckled and said, “Oh, no. Nothing like that. She…uh…tripped. Jane wasn’t looking where she was going. You know Jane, always on the move, always rushing about to get everything she has to get done…done. And she wasn’t watching where she was going, and she tripped.”

Now that was so brazen Jane couldn’t help but admire his skill a bit. She supposed all lawyers lied. There were probably courses at law school on how to do it effectively. Wyatt Gray, no doubt, had excelled in those.

“I do know Jane,” Ms. Steele said. “But I thought you two didn’t know each other.”

“Oh, just…you know…we were introduced one time by our relatives,” Wyatt claimed. “And in fact, we all shared a very nice dinner at the blue cottage the other night. I have to say, the young woman working there, Amy I believe it was, makes outstanding lasagna. Doesn’t she, Jane?”

Jane nodded. She’d be happy to talk about Amy and lasagna.

“So, Jane tripped, but she didn’t get anywhere near my uncle, because I caught her,” Wyatt said, not technically a lie. He had caught her. He pointed to his black eye and said, “That’s how I got this.”

Then he smiled that I-can-charm-any-woman-alive smile Jane had come to know so well. Except, sadly, Ms. Steele looked completely immune to it.

How could that be? Jane puzzled. She would have guessed no woman was truly immune to Wyatt at his gorgeous, most-charming self.

Ms. Steele cocked her head to the right and frowned at Wyatt. “So your story is…Jane tripped and you caught her?”

Wyatt nodded.

“You’re nearly a foot taller than she is. How did you get hit in the eye?”

“I don’t really know,” Wyatt said. “It all happened so fast.”

Ms. Steele rolled her eyes and gave a little huff, then turned to Jane. “I called you in here because I can’t just ignore reports of fighting on the grounds of Remington Park. But I was sure it was Leo Gray who was responsible for this whole mess. I would never believe Jane attacked an old man for no reason.”

“Oh, but.” I did.

Jane barely managed to stop herself as Wyatt clamped a hand down on hers. She took a breath, trying to think up some brazen lies of her own she might tell, but honestly, when was hitting an old man ever justified?

“It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t do anything to me. And I’ve never hit an old man in my life. I’ve never hit anyone…”

Except Wyatt.

He gave her a nod that said, Well done, Jane.

“I have no trouble believing the last part,” Ms. Steele agreed, yet still seemed troubled.

“I am so sorry about this whole mix-up.” Jane tried sounding her most earnest. “I strive to never cause trouble for anyone, and I’m sure Wyatt does, too. I’ve apologized profusely for giving him a black eye—”

“And I, of course, have forgiven her completely,” he jumped in. “Knowing that it was most definitely unintentional on her part. So there’s really no problem here.”

With that, he got to his feet and urged Jane to do the same, as if his pronouncement that there was no problem was all that was needed to clear up this whole thing.

Jane smiled hopefully in Ms. Steele’s direction, then did as Wyatt wanted and walked out the door ahead of him.

As he followed her, she could hear Ms. Steele call out to him, “We’re not done with this, Mr. Gray.”

Chapter Six

Wyatt thought they both deserved a drink after that little scene in Ms. Steele’s office, and Jane, looking like she was still figuring out how her no-doubt neat, orderly life had come to this, let him steer her quite easily to the dark, quiet bar across the street. He set a drink in front of her before she ever uttered the first word of protest, and then she just sat there, looking bewildered, embarrassed and a little sad.

He really didn’t want to make Jane sad.

“Why was Ms. Steele so sure this was all your uncle’s fault?” she finally asked.

Wyatt frowned, wondering if he could bring himself to do the old denial-and-downplay routine with her.

No, he couldn’t.

“Leo tends to…shake things up wherever he goes,” he began, then had to admit that was definitely downplaying. “Actually, Jane, he chases after women like a man who’s been celibate for years—which I’m sure he’d tell you feels like a reasonable equivalent of being married and faithful to one woman for the previous eleven years. And now that aunt Millicent is gone, he seems to feel the need to make up for lost time. He doesn’t just go after one woman at a time. This thing with your grandmother and your aunt—I’m afraid it’s not unusual at all for him. This is the norm.”

She shook her head, disbelieving. “He’s eighty-six!”

“I know. I keep hoping he’ll get too tired for all of this, but so far…he hasn’t even slowed down. He’s been kicked out of three retirement homes, bringing complete chaos to the places. Women who’ve lived together happily for years suddenly turn on each other, when he favors one over the other, no matter how brief his attention span.”

“He can’t live by himself?” she suggested.

“He probably could, but he won’t. You know how favorable the ratio of men to women is in these places. He thinks a retirement park is a paradise for men. And nothing I’ve said to him has been able to change him in any way. If he gets kicked out of Remington Park, I don’t know what I’ll do with him,” Wyatt admitted. “And I’m truly sorry for any problems he might cause between your aunt and your grandmother.”

“I love them so much,” Jane said. “They make me crazy, but I just adore them.”

“Yeah, I feel the same way about Leo. He was more of a father to me than my real father was. I mean, my father’s not a bad guy or anything like that. He’s just…well, he was more interested in his own life than mine. But Leo always took the time to look out for me, guide me, explain things to me. He was there if I needed help. I’d do anything for him.”

“There should be some kind of pill to make men faithful,” Jane said.

“If there was, Leo wouldn’t take it.”

“Well, I still feel like I have to apologize to him,” she repeated. “I did take a swing at him, after all.”

“I’m not sure he deserves an apology—”

“No, I have to. What I did was wrong, and I always apologize when I’m wrong.”

“Okay.” Wyatt nodded. “If you insist.”

“I do. Will you come with me? Sometime tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

They went to Leo’s cottage, but he wasn’t there.

Jane was a little afraid where they might find him and what he might be doing, but she was determined not to lose her good manners around him, at least not anymore. She felt oddly like her life could be on the verge of spinning off into complete chaos at any moment. How could that possibly have happened?

She couldn’t blame it entirely on the Gray men. Her own behavior had been erratic, at best, and Jane preached that men could not make women crazy. Women allowed themselves to be crazy over men, but men could not force that kind of irrational behavior upon anyone. No one could. A woman was responsible for her own behavior at all times. She had to own her own decisions, her actions, her words, and Jane’s had been abominable.

She and Wyatt walked into Gram and Gladdy’s cottage.

Amy was in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove and baking something that smelled luscious. Leo Gray stood beside her. They both turned as the front door opened and Jane thought Amy looked particularly uncomfortable at the moment.

Jane frowned, whispering to Wyatt urgently. “He wouldn’t hit on someone Amy’s age. Would he?”

“I don’t think so,” Wyatt said. “But she doesn’t look happy to have him here. Or maybe it’s us. Maybe she thinks she’s going to witness another scuffle.”

Oh, Lord! He was probably right. Amy, sweet, kind, quiet little Amy, whom Jane wanted to help become a chef, had surely heard about Jane freaking out and attacking Leo Gray. Amy was looking at Jane like Jane had grown three heads.

“I will never live this down,” she muttered.

“Come on,” Wyatt said, putting a supportive hand at the small of her back and steering her to the kitchen. “Chin up. Smile. Be confident, gracious, polite. All the things I know you are, Jane. Put this behind you and move on.”

“No. They all know.” It wasn’t her imagination. There were three little old ladies in the common area of the cottage, all staring at Jane like they’d never seen her before. “I’m infamous at Remington Park as the crazy woman who attacks old men with her briefcase!”

“Nonsense. One little slip does not a crazy woman make,” Wyatt insisted.

They got to Leo and Amy’s side, Amy now looking like she really wanted to run away, Leo looking calm and happy as could be, not at all like a man who created chaos everywhere he went.

“Hello, Amy,” Wyatt said, turning on the charm. “I was just bragging to Ms. Steele yesterday about what an outstanding cook you are.”

Amy blushed and stammered. “Uh…thank you. I’m making raspberry lemon bars.”

“My favorite,” Leo said, beaming.

Wyatt ignored that and did his best to charm and reassure Amy. “I’m sure they’re lovely. I’m still thinking about the lasagna you made last week.”

“I’ll save you some to take home, if you’re still here when they’re done.”

“Thank you, Amy. Now, could you excuse us a moment? Jane and I need to talk to my uncle.”

“Of course,” she said, looking uneasy again.

Wyatt gave a curt nod to Leo, to follow them into the empty dining area. He pulled out a chair for Jane, touching her reassuringly on her shoulder, then seated himself.

“She’s not armed, is she?” Leo asked, still standing.

Jane felt like a worm, like one of the lowest creatures on earth and wished she could just crawl away right now.

“Uncle Leo?” Wyatt said none too softly.

Out of the corner of her eye, Jane saw Amy startle, heard the pan clatter on the stove like she’d lost control of it for a moment.

She was expecting the worst.

“Just sayin’, you feeling better, girly?” Leo inquired.

“Now you’re just trying to be annoying,” Wyatt complained. “Let the lady explain why she’s here.”

“Mr. Gray,” Jane began. “I am so very sorry about everything I did the other day, and I’ve come to humbly beg for your forgiveness. My behavior was completely unacceptable, and I am both shocked and humiliated that I resorted to violence as a way of settling our disagreement.”

Leo grimaced, then shook his head. “Kathleen and Gladdy said you were kind of prissy.”

Jane winced. Had they told him that she was a prude, too?

Because if he brought that up in front of Wyatt, she would happily just sink into the floor and try to disappear into the crevasses in the stone tile.

Wyatt shot his uncle a hard look. He might have even stepped on Leo’s toe or something, because Leo gave a little yelp and eased away from both of them.

“Tell her you accept her apology,” Wyatt insisted.

Leo turned to his nephew, chuckling as he asked. “She give you that shiner, boy?”

“Leo!”

“Okay, fine. I accept,” he said, not looking either sincere or happy about being forced into saying it.

Wyatt didn’t take his gaze off of his uncle. “Jane, would you excuse us, please? I’d like a moment alone with Leo.”

“Of course,” Jane conceded, eager to escape as fast as she could.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Wyatt practically roared the moment Jane disappeared from sight.

“She is a prissy little thing. I still can’t believe she hit me.”

“She didn’t hit you,” Wyatt reminded him.

“But she meant to. The only thing that stopped her was you. And then she hit you.”

Wyatt sighed, feeling a headache coming on, as it often did when he had to deal with Leo. “Did your doctor change your medication or something? Because you seem…particularly outrageous lately, even for you.”

“I’m just enjoying myself here,” Leo claimed, slapping his hands to his chest. “Life was meant to be enjoyed, boy.”

“God help me,” Wyatt muttered. “Are you trying to get kicked out of this place?”

“No, I love it here. This is the best old folks’ home I’ve ever been in. Best-looking women, the friendliest, the fittest. I think this place is God’s gift to Leo Gray.”

“I doubt God sees it that way, and I know for a fact that Ms. Steele doesn’t. She sees it as you potentially ruining this place, and she’s this close to kicking you out.” Wyatt held his thumb and his first finger an inch apart. “One more thing, and I swear, you’re gone.”

Leo made a disgusted, dismissive sound. “We done? ‘Cause I’m supposed to meet someone in thirty minutes, and I need to spruce up a bit. A man can’t just let himself go.”

“Please tell me it’s not one of Jane’s relatives.” Wyatt said, then wondered, would it be better or worse if it wasn’t Kathleen or Gladdy?

“You gonna start policing my social calendar, boy?” Leo challenged.

Wyatt sighed. “There aren’t enough hours in the day for me to control you.”

Leo looked particularly pleased with himself. “Didn’t think so.”

“But I’m telling you, you’re going to get kicked out of here, and Ms. Steele’s going to blackball you with every retirement home administrator she knows, and she claims that will cover the entire state of Maryland. Think about it, Leo.”

Jane found Gram and Gladdy in Gram’s room whispering urgently to each other. They clammed up the minute they saw Jane.

That was odd.

“What are you two up to?” she asked.

Gram got a sad, disapproving look on her face. “Talking about you, my girl.”

“We can’t believe the things we’re hearing, Jane. You attacked that sweet Leo Gray?”

“He is not sweet! He’s trouble! How can you both not see that?”

“He is sweet as can be and just delightful to be around,” Gram insisted. “Do you have any idea how boring most men in their eighties are? Sad and grumpy and complaining about one thing after another. Their backs, their head, their eyes. It’s really disheartening what you have to choose from in men at our age, Jane.”

“You could just give up on men altogether,” Jane suggested.

Gram and Gladdy groaned, then looked at each other like it was too horrible an idea to even think about.

“Surely you’ve both had enough men by now,” she tried.

“I hope to have a man in my life for as long as I’m breathing,” Gram said.

Gladdy nodded her head, obviously agreeing. “You’ve just never learned how to truly enjoy a man, Jane. If you had, you’d understand.”

“Enjoy a man?” She winced, remembering being called a prude and Gram and Gladdy feeling sorry for her, just because she didn’t turn her life upside down for every man who showed the slightest interest in her. “I’ve had enjoyable men in my life before.”

“Name one,” Gladdy challenged her.

“I.…uhhh…“ She had to think, then came up with, “Andy Scovol. He was great fun. We did all sorts of things together, and I still miss him since he moved away.”

“He was your best friend in fifth grade. That was eighteen years ago, and he wasn’t a man. He was a boy. I bet you never even kissed him,” Gram complained.

“Of course I didn’t kiss him. He was my friend. It’s okay to be friends with men, isn’t it? Surely it’s not all about sex.”

Gladdy sighed. “Jane, we worry about you.”

“And I worry about the two of you, too.”

“Well, don’t. We’re fine.”

“Fine,” Gram agreed.

“But you won’t be if you both keep running around with that man, Leo.”

Gram gave a dismissive huff. “We told you. He’s so much fun to have around.”

“Well, you should know he’s been having fun with both of you.” There, she’d just blurted it out.

“Of course he has,” Gram said. “We’ve had dinner together every day this week. We played doubles today in tennis, and we’re going dancing downtown Saturday night.”

“That’s not all he’s been doing.” It had to be said, Jane knew. “I’m sorry, but it’s not. His nephew says he’s incapable of being faithful to any woman or of making any kind of long-term commitment.”

Gladdy laughed. “Honey, we’re both in our…seventies. How can a long-term commitment even apply at our age?”

Jane let the lying about their ages go. It wasn’t the issue.

“He’s been romancing you both. Gram, you think you’re in love with him, and he was here, in this room…doing things with Gladdy yesterday.”

Gladdy looked outraged.

“I’m sorry,” Jane told her. “But he was.”

“Doing…things?” Gram asked.

“Oh, pooh. I had something in my eye, and he was helping me get it out. I’ve already told Kathleen about it, and she understands perfectly. Don’t you, Kathleen?”

“Of course I do.” She patted Gladdy’s hand with lifelong affection. “Gladdy and I would never let a man come between us.”

“But…but you said you were in love with him.” Jane tried.

“I’m quite sure I am. It’s so exciting! Love at my age.” She smiled like she didn’t have a care in the world.

“See? I told you,” Jane said to Gladdy. “Love. She thinks she’s in love with that…cad!”

Gladdy rolled her eyes and said, “So what? Half the women at Remington Park are in love with Leo Gray. Jane, he’s a wonderful man. I wish you could see that, and if I ever hear about you assaulting him again. Well, let’s just say Kathleen and I are both greatly disappointed in you, Jane. Would you care to explain yourself?”

Jane frowned, her brow furrowing. Everyone was in love with Leo? That was it? That was their explanation?

Could she have completely misread the situation and thought Gram cared more about him than she actually did? Was no one’s heart or lifelong friendship at risk here?

Jane sighed. It was hard work, taking proper care of two women in their eighties, especially two active, stubborn women who didn’t want to be taken care of. “I just. I worry about the two of you.”

“Well, we worry about you, too, Jane, darling,” Gram said gently. “But we try not to overreact and let you live your own life, even if you’re doing so in a way we disagree with at times.”

“I’m…I’m sorry,” Jane apologized, feeling ridiculous and so relieved.

Everything was okay. Nothing really bad was happening. She could relax, back off, never have to deal with Leo Gray again and maybe never see Wyatt again.

That was a good thing, wasn’t it?

She felt vaguely disappointed and just…out of sorts. Which was silly, because this had to be a good thing.

Gladdy got up, came over to Jane, smiled down at her and gave her a little kiss on her forehead, like she used to do when Jane was little. “You’re so sweet to fuss over us like this, but we’re fine. Honestly. And I hate to rush off, but I made plans to meet a friend for bridge. Bye, darling. Bye, Kathleen.”

“Bye,” Jane whispered.

Gladdy left, and Jane for once relaxed that rigid posture of hers and fell back against her chair. “I’m so glad we got that cleared up.”

But then she looked at Gram, and it appeared as if nothing at all had been cleared up, Gram’s expression suggested that she had to tell Jane something and she was dreading it.

“What?” Jane asked.

Gram gave a shrug and a smile, then a sigh. “I just. Don’t get upset, all right? You get upset over everything, Jane.”

“Upset? Why would I get upset? You two said you’re not fighting, that you haven’t gone nuts over Leo Gray and that everything is fine. There’s nothing upsetting about that. That’s all good news. I’m happy. See? Happy Jane.”

“The thing is, that isn’t. entirely true,” Gram confessed. “We haven’t told Gladdy yet, although honestly, I don’t believe it’s going to be such a problem. I mean, I know she really likes Leo, but she hasn’t said anything about being in love with him, and you know Gladdy. She doesn’t do love.”

“Neither do you,” Jane said.

“Still…there’s nothing official yet, but Leo and I’ve been talking, and…I’m fairly certain he’s going to ask me to marry him! Jane, I’m just so happy, darling. Isn’t it fabulous!”

Chapter Seven

“You can’t do that,” Jane said, after a long moment of stunned silence.

“Of course, we can. We can do anything we want.”

“But…why would you want to?” Jane tried.

“Because that’s what people in love do!” Gram gave her a huge, glowing smile.

Jane winced. Her head hurt. Her ears hurt. She could not listen to this anymore. She had no calm reasoning abilities left in her where Leo Gray was concerned.

“People in love do a lot of things,” Jane said. A lot of really stupid things. “And you’ve only known him for two weeks, Gram.”

“I know, but when it’s right, Jane, you just know. This is right, and honestly, he’s eighty-one—”

“No, honestly, he’s eighty-six. He’s lying about being eighty-one.”

Gram laughed. “Well, I’m lying about being seventy-six, so I’d say we’re even on that score.”

“He was in Gladdy’s room, necking with her just yesterday! That’s what made me so mad! That’s why I stormed off after him! Because he acted like it was nothing, to be messing around with you and her, like he could hurt you both and laugh about it.”

“She said she had something in her eye, and I believe her, of course,” Gram said sternly. “Now she may like him and enjoy spending time with him but she’s not in love with him, and we’ll all just sit down, talk this out and everything will be fine. You’ll see.”

“I don’t think so, and I don’t trust that man. You shouldn’t, either.”

“Things will be fine. Leo’s going to tell her everything. Just wait and see.”

Gladdy, just as Jane feared, was with Leo Gray!

When she finished with Gram, Jane went to the card room, where Gladdy wasn’t, and then kept asking if anyone had seen her or Leo. She eventually tracked them down to a secluded bench near the tennis courts. Someone said it was a particularly favorite spot of Leo’s to take his lady-friends.

Jane contemplated strangling him with her bare hands when she saw him and Gladdy sitting there, laughing hilariously, Gladdy’s hand on his knee, Leo toying with a bit of Gladdy’s long, pretty white hair.

Was the man on some new combination of Viagra and steroids?

This was ridiculous.

Jane crouched down behind a bush and tried to figure out what to do next. It was like both Gram and Gladdy had completely lost all sense. Granted, they’d never been the most sensible women, but they hadn’t been crazy, either.

Marry Leo Gray?

Gram would be safer jumping off a cliff.

He was like those wackos who founded cults and could get people to do anything he wanted, no matter how illogical or inherently dangerous.

Drink the Kook-Aid for Leo Gray.

And here was Jane, the only sensible one in the group. Well, maybe Wyatt was, too.

She had to see Wyatt again—and firmly ignored a little happy feeling that came along with that thought. There was simply no choice. He at least would help her.

She was getting ready to creep away from her hiding place behind the bush when Leo got up, kissed Gladdy on the cheek and headed Jane’s way.

She gave a little yelp, fell to her knees and tried to crawl into the midst of the bushes. It was all the cover she could find that quickly, but it just wasn’t big enough for hiding purposes. She was sure her butt was sticking out, and the stupid bush scratched her cheek, her arms, maybe even her ear and was likely ruining her pretty-yet-sensible, low-heeled pumps she’d just bought on sale.

Jane waited there, cuts stinging, knees sinking into the dirt, wondering how her life had been reduced to this—hiding in bushes—until she heard a man’s voice.

“I’m telling you, there’s something wrong with that little girl.”

Leo, of course.

Groaning, even swearing under her breath in the bushes, Jane couldn’t bring herself to crawl out of there. It was too much. She had no dignity left, and Jane Carlton placed a great deal of value on her own sense of dignity. Every woman should, she believed. And hers was simply gone, all because of that man!

“You can come out now. He’s gone,” Gladdy said, sounding sad and worried herself.

Jane backed out on her hands and knees, then sat back on her heels, simply unable to look Gladdy in the eye.

“Honestly, Jane. Is there something going on that you’re not telling us? Because you just aren’t acting like yourself lately,” Gladdy said.

“Of course I’m not acting like myself. I’m trying to save you and Gram from that man!”

“And we keep telling you, we don’t need saving.”

“Oh, yes, you do. Did he tell you what’s really going on? What he did? What he and Gram are talking about?”

“Oh, please! What is going on? We’re all going dancing together. We have dinner together. We just told you this. You remember, don’t you, darling?”

“Of course I remember! There’s nothing wrong with my memory! It’s just…he’s…I knew he wouldn’t tell you. I just knew it.”

“Tell me what?”

“About what’s really going on here!” Jane was just all done in. She had dirt all over her knees and her new shoes, scratches on her face. She’d been caught hiding in a bunch of bushes, spying on her aunt, and two days ago, she’d nearly attacked an old man.

“Jane, everything’s going to be fine. I’m sure of it. Kathleen and I are as happy as we’ve ever been. Life is very, very good.”

“You’re both crazy about the same man. This cannot end well!”

“Well, Leo will just have to pick one of us. Or. maybe not.”

“Maybe not? What do you mean, maybe not?”

Gladdy hesitated, looking uneasy for once in the whole Leo Gray situation. “Jane, are you really sure you want me to answer that question? Because you have to think, before you ask some things, whether you really want to know the answers.”

Jane shook her head. “What? What could I possibly not want to know?”

“Well…it wouldn’t exactly be the first time Kathleen and I have…shared.”

Jane got a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Shared?”

Gladdy nodded.

“Shared…a man?”

“Yes,” Gladdy whispered, a tiny smile on her pretty face.

When he got back to his office that afternoon, Wyatt got Leo’s doctor on the phone. Wyatt was mostly getting the runaround about patient confidentiality and privacy laws, a thoroughly frustrating exchange.

“Look, he’s just acting…funny,” Wyatt finally said.

“Funny-sad or funny-odd?”

“He’s definitely not sad, just…more stubborn about things,” Wyatt explained. “And a little reckless.”

“Ignoring what seem like perfectly reasonable requests?”

“Yes.”

“And good advice from people trying to take care of him?”

“Exactly. What is that?”

“The most common complaint I hear from people trying to take care of older relatives,” the doctor replied. “And unfortunately not a disease, as far as the medical profession has been able to identify.”

Wyatt wanted to beat his head against his desk. “He’s driving me crazy!”

“Me too, most of the time,” the doctor admitted. “I can’t get him to listen to a thing I say.”

“Me either. What do we do?”

“Unfortunately, he’s an adult, he’s competent to make his own decisions—according to the law, at least—and he gets to go on making his own decisions until you can convince a court to find him incompetent.”

Wyatt groaned.

“Look, you’re always welcome to come with him to his appointments with me, if he’ll let you, and then if you have concerns, I can try to play medical referee. If you’re trying to look out for his health and safety, I’ll back you up all the way. But I can’t force him into anything.”

“I feel like I’m the grown-up and he’s the teenager,” Wyatt complained. “Or maybe even a toddler.”

“In my experience, most family members caring for older relatives feel that way eventually,” the doctor sympathized. “Come to his next appointment. We’ll talk.”

Wyatt said he would, was just hanging up the phone with the doctor when his secretary buzzed, sounding agitated. “There’s a woman here to see you.”

“Lucy, I’m a fortunate man. There’s almost always a woman here to see me,” he spoke into the intercom.

“This one’s different,” Lucy claimed.

Wyatt shook his head. “Different, how?”

“She says she just crawled out of some bushes and she has to talk to you right now. It’s about Leo.”

Wyatt grinned broadly. Jane coming to him? This was a good day.

He opened the door, and then gaped at her.

She looked like a woman who’d been in a fight with a bush. There was a small twig of some kind sticking out of her hair, which was half falling down, half still in a droopy bun on her head. She had small scratches on her face and hands, leaves stuck to her skirt and bits of dirt clinging to her knees.

“Jane!” He went to her side, looking her over more carefully to make sure she wasn’t really hurt. “What happened?”

“I hid in a bush,” she said, as he took her hand and led her carefully into his office to a seat on his sofa. “Because I was spying on Leo and Gladdy, and then Leo left, and I didn’t have time to really get out of the way. It was the bush or nothing. Not that it worked. They saw me anyway. And…I ended up like this.”

“Lucy, would you get…anything you can find to help clean her up, please?” he called out the open office door, then turned to Jane, pulling stray leaves off her skirt, because that looked like the easiest place to start.

She looked so sad.

Wyatt carefully pulled the little twig out of her hair.

“Oops,” she said. “I thought I got it all.”

“It’s fine now,” Wyatt insisted, smoothing her hair back into place as best he could, which wasn’t really all that well, but she didn’t need to know that. He looked at her knees, dirt ground in, and asked, “You two didn’t get into another fight, did you?”

“No,” she responded meekly. “I refused to come out of hiding until he left.”

Wyatt got an image of the scene in his mind, then said, “Good thinking, Jane.”

Lucy returned with a damp cloth, and Wyatt gently cleansed the scratches on her face, which were red and angry looking but not deep.

“You poor thing,” Lucy said, looking at Jane like she came from Mars or something.

She certainly wasn’t Wyatt’s usual type. He’d admit that. But it wasn’t like she came from Mars, either. She was just…a little reserved, serious, all buttoned-up, although today’s white blouse was coming untucked from her dark blue skirt in a couple of places.

“Lucy, will you run to the market on the corner and get some antibiotic ointment for these cuts?” Wyatt asked.

“No, it’s okay,” Jane said. “I can do that at home.”

Wyatt shook his head. “You took care of me when I hurt my eye. I’m going to take care of you now.”

That got Lucy’s attention as she was walking out the office door. She’d been sure his black eye had something to do with a woman, and he’d refused to explain anything about it. Which made Lucy all the more curious. He gave her a curt nod to get out of there, then started cleaning up Jane’s knees.

“So, do you think we’re going to survive taking care of these three?” Wyatt asked, thinking he might at least get a smile out of Jane with that.

She looked even sadder. Her bottom lip started quivering. She sniffled once, then again. Tears filled her pretty blue-green eyes.

“No, no, no, don’t do that,” Wyatt begged.

He couldn’t stand the idea of Jane crying. Not tough little Jane, who could handle anything. Her expression just crumbled. The harder she fought to control it, the more difficult it become.

Wyatt dabbed at the corner of her eyes with a tissue. “It’s okay. Everything’s fine. See? No need to cry.”

Finally, she just blurted out, “Do you think I’m a prude?”

“No! My uncle called you a prude? I’ll kill him—”

She shook her head, tears falling in earnest. “No, my aunt Gladdy did the other day, right before I ran into Leo and almost hit him. And I thought about it, but I didn’t really think it was true. But today…today, I wasn’t sure anymore.”

Oh, God.

What had Leo done? What had Jane seen from those bushes to have her thinking she was a prude?

Ooh. Ick. This was like teenagers walking in on their parents having sex.

Jane was sobbing now, and Wyatt was thinking he probably wouldn’t be too out of line if he just kissed her until she stopped. It wasn’t as if he’d had many opportunities to grab Jane and kiss her, when he didn’t think she’d maybe slap him for trying. But she was genuinely distressed now and kissing was a great distraction, he reasoned. Maybe taking advantage of the situation, just a little, but he felt certain he could stop her crying, and that was what was important. Wasn’t it?

Poor thing had been attacked by a bush, called a prude and seen God-only-knows-what that had left her in this condition. Serious comforting was in order, Wyatt calculated.

He took a seat beside her and then just lifted her onto his lap.

Her eyes flew wide open, and she looked at him as if she wasn’t quite sure what was up and that she might need to protest. He’d been right to be wary. Kissing her right now was not a good idea.

“It’s okay, Jane,” he said softly, then urged her to let herself lean on him, put her head on his shoulder.

She sat ramrod straight on his lap, stubborn to the core and resisting with all she had. She might just tell him she didn’t need comforting, and if she tried that, it would be all he could do not to laugh. It would be such a ridiculous assertion, but he could imagine Jane trying to make it.

“Just for a minute,” he suggested. “I won’t tell. If anybody ever asks, you’re the toughest woman I know. I’ll swear to it.”

She sniffled again and finally, ever-so-slowly, settled herself against him, her head falling to his shoulder, her sobs leaving her whole body shaking.

Wyatt closed his eyes and let his face find its way to her hair, inhaling the scent that was Jane, taking in the warmth of her body, the softness of her, the satisfaction of finally having her in his arms.

He was going to get her on her back on this couch and kiss her before this was over. He promised himself. As soon as she stopped crying.

So he stroked her hair, her back, promised her that everything was going to be okay. That he would handle anyone who said mean things to her and make it clear that they were never to treat her badly again.

Her head popped up off his shoulder and she sat up straight on his lap again. “I can’t believe they called me that name!”

“I know,” he agreed. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s one of those awful labels people use against women, to try to rob them of their power by taking a dig at their femininity. It’s patently unfair. Especially when it comes from another woman. Especially a woman who’s supposed to love me!”

A woman? Well, at least it wasn’t Leo. But still.

“Your grandmother?”

“No, Gladdy.”

“She loves you, Jane. You know she does. She’s just…old, and it’s like old people think that their age comes with the right to be as outrageous, as demanding and as stubborn as they please.”

“Yes! I take care of her and Gram. I try really hard to take good care of them, and be a good girl. I mean…a woman. A good, responsible, hard-working, intelligent woman.”

“You are. You’re all those things.”

“And what do they do? They insult me and try to demean me with that word!”

“They should be ashamed of themselves. Do you want me to try to make them ashamed? Because I will,” he promised. He could shame sweet, little old ladies for Jane.

“I don’t think you could. I don’t think anyone could. I don’t think they have any shame. They never have!”

He hated asking. Really, he did, but he figured he had to know, because he was still afraid Leo had something to do with this. “So…Jane…what happened, exactly? To make you so upset today.”

She looked too embarrassed to tell him.

This was going to be bad. Really bad.

“It was about…picking and choosing,” she said finally. “Or…actually…not picking and choosing. Leo not having to pick between them, because…well, first, Gram said he had chosen her and that he was going to tell Gladdy everything.

But he didn’t, and when I tried to tell Gladdy instead, she said maybe he would choose, but maybe he wouldn’t have to.”

Wyatt shook his head. “Because Gladdy doesn’t want him anymore?”

“No, because Gram and Gladdy might…share.”

Wyatt figured he must not have heard her right. Or understood.

“Share…?” And then he got it. No, surely he hadn’t gotten it. “Share…Leo?”

Jane nodded, looking truly horrified.

Yeah, this was bad.

“You mean.” Wyatt had really disturbing pictures of sharing in his mind. “Take turns with him? One gets him one night and another…the other? Like on a schedule or something?”

“I don’t know,” Jane cried, looking pitiful and sad again.

“Like they’d really put up with him going from one bed to the other?”

Jane pressed her hands over her ears. “I don’t know! I really don’t want to know!”

“God, neither do I,” Wyatt agreed. “That man’s eighty-six! Something like this could kill him.”

“I would think so!” Jane whimpered.

“Your aunt really said something about her and your Gram…sharing Leo?” Wyatt couldn’t quite take it in.

Jane nodded. “She said it wouldn’t be the first time!”

“With…they’ve already…shared Leo?” Oh, please, don’t let it be that, Wyatt thought. He couldn’t take it. It was too much.

“No. It was another man. Years ago. During the war. I’m not even sure which war. I was too horrified to ask. But apparently, there was a war on, men were scarce and they were lonely. This man showed up and they liked him, but they didn’t love him or anything like that, and he stayed around for a while, and they…shared. It worked, Gladdy said. Got them all through a difficult time, and. I don’t know. That’s what she said.”

“Damn, the women in your family are just full of surprises,” Wyatt said.

Jane nodded, then started whimpering again. “Sharing? I mean, is this what modern women are putting up with these days, and calling it a sex life?”

“Not the ones I know,” Wyatt assured her.

“Either that or. I mean, don’t tell me that he’s not going back and forth, because they’re all. You don’t think they’re all in that bed together, do you?” she cried, tears falling once again. “Surely that’s not what they meant!”

Wyatt shook his head. “No way. Not at eighty-six—”

“Even with drugs?”

“I don’t think any drug is that good,” he tried to reassure her.

“Because I would never do that, Wyatt. No way. If that means I’m a prude, so be it. I’ll be a prude. But I just can’t do that.”

“I promise, you don’t have to do that.” He would never ask her to share, or to take part in any kind of sharing, except the one-man, one-woman kind of sharing. Jane would be plenty enough woman for him, he decided.

“I just.” She sniffed, looking thoroughly defeated. “I’m not the most…adventurous woman. I know that. I’m cautious. I’m careful. I admit that, but I’m not some kind of sexual dinosaur, either! At least, I didn’t think so. Until now.”

“Oh, Jane. I’m so sorry,” he said, tucking her head to his chest once again. Poor thing. She was just overwhelmed by the hijinks of three sexually adventurous, eighty-something-year-olds.

Who wouldn’t be?

Wyatt let her cry a bit longer, rubbing her back, stroking her hair, trying to be a gentleman, promising that this would be okay somehow.

He really hated to see her this upset, especially about that ugly word—prude. He was fairly certain she wasn’t a prude. And even if she did have some…prudish tendencies, he was sure he could fix those, that they couldn’t withstand the kind of effort Wyatt Gray was willing to put forth on her behalf.

An effort he was eager to extend for Jane.

He just wasn’t sure if she’d be happy about that or call him names in return, and he was seldom so uncertain with any woman. But this was Jane, and Jane was different. He tried patience, more soothing, more gentlemanly behavior, and then, when he wasn’t sure he could stand it any longer, she finally stopped crying.

And then, finally, he kissed her.

Chapter Eight

One minute, Jane was devastated, thinking she was a prude and just unable to get the image of all that sharing out of her mind, and the next, she was lying flat on her back on the couch with Wyatt stretched on top of her, kissing her.

Not grabbing her, mauling her, rushing her. Just kissing her. Lazily, luxuriously, longingly. Jane wasn’t sure she’d ever been kissed like that before.

He tasted like cinnamon and coffee. Sweet. A wicked little zing that rattled around her whole body from head to toe. His lips were the softest things she’d ever felt and he smelled glorious, and the weight of his big, hard body on top of hers, the heat, the power.

Jane did not feel like a prude at all.

She did exactly what she wanted to in that moment—something she had seldom wanted to do in her life with a man. She opened herself to him completely, throwing herself into the moment, kissing him back, feeling her heart pound and her body go limp. He had a hand in her hair, tearing it down from what was left of her hairdo after her tangle with the bush. He freed her hair and then stroked through it, holding the side of her face in one hand, nuzzling his nose against her ear. Then his mouth found the sensitive hollow of her throat, her neck.

She arched against him, heard him groan, thought about how she could just happily dissolve into a puddle in his arms, and let him do whatever he wanted to with her. Just like that.

His mouth came back to hers, and she felt his thrusting tongue. Jane thought about taking him into her body in another way. Heat pooled between her legs. A pulse throbbed. He wanted her, too. His body told her so as he rocked gently against her.

It was as if every sexual thought Jane had ever had came roaring to life, right here in this room, on Wyatt’s couch.

“I am not a prude,” she said proudly.

He lifted his head a fraction of an inch, grinned down at her. “No, you most certainly are not.”

He started kissing her again.

It felt glorious, sweet and wicked at the same time, overwhelming.

And then Jane remembered—they were in Wyatt’s office, in the middle of the afternoon. His secretary was coming back to give Jane first aid for her skirmish with the bush at Remington Park.

The bush, Leo, Gladdy, Gram, sharing.

Jane pushed Wyatt away. “I can’t do this.”

“Why not?” he asked, holding himself up on his elbows, but still stretched out on top of her.

“Your secretary’s coming back with first aid supplies, remember?”

“No. Not until you reminded me.”

“And besides, I don’t have sex with men on the sofas in their offices,” she said, then feared she was sounding prudish again.

Did women often have sex with men in their offices? Was that a requirement of non-prudishness, too?

“Am I supposed to?” she asked.

“Supposed to what?” Wyatt questioned, carefully climbing off her and sitting on the edge of the sofa.

“Have sex with men on their sofas?”

“Not unless you want to,” he told her, running his hands through his hair, hair she thought she might have mussed up herself a moment ago.

Jane sighed. It was all so bewildering. What was normal and what was not? What was expected? In her admittedly not abundant experience, men wanted a lot these days. They expected a lot. Quickly. Very quickly.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He frowned. “Why? You’re right. Lucy is coming back. I told her to. And I know you’re not the kind of woman who’d be comfortable having sex in my office on a sofa during business hours.”

She got worried. “But does that—”

“That doesn’t make you anything except who you are, Jane, and there’s nothing wrong with who you are. Any man who tries to tell you there is is an ass and probably just out to get whatever he can get as fast as he can.”

“But you. I know you. I suspect you…wouldn’t really have a problem with…something like this.”

He shrugged. “Maybe every now and then, for some-thing quick and different. But the thing I like best…is someplace totally quiet and private, no time constraints at all, no interruptions. And nothing to do with sharing.”

“Really?” she asked in wonder.

He nodded.

“Oh.” She was thinking about pulling him back down on top of her on the couch. He knew it, too. She could tell by that flare of heat in his eyes as he watched her watching him.

She sighed, took his tie in her hand and gave it a tug. Grinning like the no-doubt wicked man he was, he happily lowered his mouth to hers once again. If she was going to be wicked herself, she might as well start right now with the time they had until his secretary did get back.

“You’re just trying to mess with me now,” he said stopping with his lips a breath away from hers.

“Yes,” she admitted.

“You know Lucy’s coming back, and you know I know, so you think you’re perfectly safe here with me. That I’m not going to really do anything.”

“Yes,” she agreed.

“That is so bad of you, Jane,” he said, still not kissing her. “And you’re supposed to be such a good girl.”

She’d been watching his eyes, his mouth, waiting for it to descend that last inch and kiss her again, and she hadn’t been paying attention to anything else. It wasn’t until she felt cool air on her chest that she realized he’d unbuttoned her blouse.

He took the tip of his nose and skimmed it along the line of her bra as it rose and fell over her breasts, nudging it aside here and there. Then he started playing with her skin with his tongue, his warm breath heating her nipples as he got closer and closer to them.

She gasped, ran a hand into his hair and grabbed on, trying to pull him away, but in the end, not having the will.

He nibbled on her collarbone, on the side of her neck. She just melted when he did that to her neck and was starting to rethink the whole sex-in-the-office thing.

Who would ever really know? Jane could be quiet. At least, she always had been, before Wyatt. She didn’t think Wyatt would be particularly quiet, though, and honestly, she wasn’t sure she could be.

She was whimpering already.

“Can you be quiet?” she asked him. “Really quiet?”

He jerked back, just enough to stare down at her, as if he couldn’t believe she had just said that. “No, but I can throw you over my shoulder and haul you out of here. I live right down the street. We can be in my bed in ten minutes flat.”

She got a little scared then.

He laughed. “Didn’t think so.”

Oh, she’d ruined it! “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. I don’t think you’re quite ready for this, Jane. And I can wait.”

“Really?”

“Well, I don’t want to, but I’m capable of it. I’m actually looking forward to talking you into it.”

“Talking?” she asked, not feeling so bad after all.

He grinned. “Whatever it takes.”

He nearly had her blouse off by the time Lucy got back, because Jane did feel safe, she was truly enjoying herself and they couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other and honestly, why should they?

Lucy just waltzed right in, saying, “I got antibiotic cream and. Oh, sorry. I—”

Jane gave a little yelp, face flaming. She really had forgotten, there at the end, exactly where they were.

“It’s okay, Lucy,” Wyatt said, sitting up and keeping his broad back to her.

Jane couldn’t see her, and she figured that meant Lucy couldn’t see Jane as she buttoned up her blouse, wondering just how many times Lucy had walked in on a scene like this between her boss and some woman.

No, she wasn’t going to think like that. She would just think about Wyatt and that wonderful mouth of his, those talented hands, the way he smelled, the wicked things he made her want to do.

“I’ll just leave this stuff right here and leave you two alone,” Lucy said, then whispered to Wyatt. “You know, your door has a lock on it.”

“Sorry, Luce.”

But he didn’t look sorry. He looked like a man who was very happy with himself. Of course, why wouldn’t he be?

“I bet you get every woman you want,” Jane said, not upset, not mad, just…marveling that she could ever actually think about getting involved with a man like him. Even if it was nothing but sex. Great sex.

Surely a woman was allowed to have one highly satisfying, purely sexual relationship in her life. She’d decided Wyatt would be hers.

“You really want to talk about me and other women, Jane?”

“No, actually, I don’t.”

He nodded. “Good. I’d rather talk about you and me. Have dinner with me tomorrow night. I’ve been dying to see you in something other than one of those little power suits.”

“You don’t like my suits?”

“I do. I think they’re adorable, which I know isn’t the image you’re going for. But I can’t help it. You’re just so cute.”

“You’re sounding less desirable to me with every word that comes out of your mouth,” she warned.

“Because I like the way you dress?”

“Because I am not cute. Kittens are cute. Puppies are cute. Little girls are cute—”

“So I guess you wouldn’t consider dressing up as a Catholic schoolgirl for me? Or maybe in a cheerleader outfit?”

Her mouth fell open, and she was just about to get really mad when he burst out laughing at her.

“You rat!”

“I like grown women, Jane. I have no doubt that you are one. And now that I think about it, wear one of your little suits. I always see you that way in my head, anyway. I think they’re really sexy.”

“Well, in that case, I wouldn’t dream of dressing in any way other than to please you, the man.”

“Hey, it was a compliment.”

She’d gotten her blouse buttoned up and tucked back into her skirt. “I have to go. I have to get some work done, especially if I’m not working late tomorrow night, because I’m having dinner with you.”

He handed her the bag of first-aid supplies Lucy had brought back from the store and said, “You’re really not going to let me play doctor?”

“I don’t think that would be wise,” she said, heading for the door, not quite able to believe what she’d already done today with him or what he might expect after the obligatory dinner date tomorrow night.

He watched her go, stopping her just as she reached for the door handle, his body wrapping itself around hers, trapping her between him and the door.

“Maybe one of those suits without any underwear? What do you say, Jane?”

“That you’re crazy.”

He dropped a little kiss on her cheek and then backed up and let her go.

Lainie stared at Jane when she walked into the office an uncharacteristic hour and fifteen minutes later than expected.

“What?” Jane asked. “Was I humming?”

Or grinning like a woman who’d nearly had sex with Wyatt in his office, or one who was contemplating all the sinful behavior she might partake with him the very next evening?

“Did you get mugged?” Lainie asked.

“Oh!” Jane touched the scratches on her face and grinned. “I forgot. I hid in a bush.”

Lainie looked skeptical. “Why?”

“Because there was no other place to hide,” Jane explained.

“Does this have something to do with that man? The amazingly reasonable one?”

“Oh, I don’t think he’s all that reasonable, really. He’s actually.”

Outrageous. Wicked. Gorgeous. Jane sighed happily, then remembered where she was. “I can’t talk about him now. I’m so far behind, and I need to get out of here early tomorrow. I have a date.”

“A date? With him?”

Jane nodded.

“Has he…done something to you?” Lainie prodded, looking worried.

“Done something?”

“Drugged you, maybe? You’re really not acting like yourself, Jane. You haven’t been since you met him. And there are all sorts of things men can put into drinks these days to get women to do anything they want. This is serious.”

“Wyatt Gray’s never had to drug a woman in his life. They probably line up for the chance to give him what he wants.”

“And that doesn’t…infuriate you?”

Jane thought about it. At one point, it would have. She knew that. But it seemed she’d discounted the whole bit about what the women might want in this situation. Women could be taken advantage of, certainly, and they often were. Jane knew from experience with the women who came to her seminars. But she didn’t think Wyatt took advantage of women. She thought he just enjoyed them, and they enjoyed him.

She wanted to enjoy him and very much wanted him to enjoy her.

“I think I may have been a little harsh in my judgments about men,” she admitted.

Lainie started dropping things, everything she was carrying, actually. A coffee mug, some papers, little pink message slips for Jane. Flustered, she hurried to pick them up, then looked at Jane as if she’d grown three heads in the last five seconds.

“What has that man done to you?” she asked.

“I know most men are jerks. Believe me, I do. It’s just that, not all of them are. There must be some decent men out there. Some who can be trusted in…certain…limited…situations.”

“You want to go to bed with him,” Lainie guessed.

Jane felt heat coming into her cheeks. “I’m allowed to have a sex life—”

“I know. You just never have before. Not in all the time I’ve known you, I bet.”

Jane clamped her mouth shut, thinking back to exactly when she’d hired Lainie. Had it been that long? She wasn’t going to answer that.

“Just be careful, okay? I don’t want to see you get hurt,” Lainie said.

“I won’t. I know exactly what I’m getting into. I certainly know that nothing lasting will ever come out of this, and that I’m not his usual type, which has made him more interested than he’d normally be. But I know that in the end, we’ll just go our separate ways, and that’ll be it.”

“And you’re fine with that?”

She sighed. “I wouldn’t say fine with that, but I’m an adult, and like you said, I get lonely at times. Wyatt’s here, and I’m here, and he’s…he’s…he’s the sexiest man I’ve ever met in my life, Lainie. I’m thinking about going to dinner with him in one of my power suits with no underwear. Does that sound…normal?”

“Not for you,” Lainie yelped.

“No, I mean for a woman not like me. A woman who likes men. Really likes them. And really likes sex. For that kind of woman. Would that kind of woman do that?”

Lainie sighed. “Jane, are you sure he didn’t drug you? Maybe I should come along on this date, just to make sure he doesn’t…that he isn’t…you know? A bad guy. Or we could run a background check on him. You have that friend on the police force. Just in case. How about that? A background check and a credit check. You can’t be too careful.”

“Yes, you can. I’ve been careful too long. And I’m done with it,” Jane declared.

She was going to dinner without her underwear, after all.

Chapter Nine

The next afternoon Jane skipped out on much of the work she’d hoped to accomplish. Her heart just wasn’t in it. She went home and took a bath instead. A nice, long, sexy soak, because she wanted to smell good all over.

The no-panties thing had been just a crazy idea at first, but Lainie had been so sure Jane had become demented or perhaps incapacitated by drugs someone had slipped her, that Jane had been insulted a bit. Granted, it wasn’t like her to ever do that, but surely it wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility.

It was like the odds of her winning the lottery, maybe. Not probable, but not impossible.

She decided she was going to do it.

It’s not as if it would kill her, and no one would ever have to know. It wasn’t as if she’d promised to hop in bed with Wyatt tonight, even though she suspected he was fairly certain she would. And at this moment, she wanted to. But if later she got too nervous, too scared, or changed her mind, she didn’t have to, and if she did, her pantyless state could very well go undetected.

It could be her wicked little secret.

Jane was not as stuffy or prudish as anyone thought. She liked that idea. That it was more like a dare she’d given herself, something she wanted to prove to herself.

Opening up her closet door, she frowned at row after row of power suits, all virtually identical except for their color. Was she really that boring? That predictable? It was just so easy this way. Buy good-quality suits that didn’t go out of style, pick a color, pair it with a white blouse and she was ready to go, day after day.

Jane sighed. Wyatt had asked her to wear one.

She picked the brightest color she had—a hot, candy-pink—then got to all those white blouses. It was definitely not a buttoned-up, white-blouse kind of night, either.

In her underwear drawer, she picked up lace camisole after lace camisole. Jane wasn’t a busty woman, and she wasn’t going to endure a stuffed or even water-filled bra to try to make her look bustier every day, just to please some man who only wanted to look at her chest. But she did like camisoles with a little support that doubled as soft, comfortable bras. They were pretty, and some were even soft and pretty at the same time. Truth be told, she felt a bit sexy in those little camisoles. She just always wore her buttoned-up blouses over them.

Tonight…maybe she’d skip the blouse and wear one of her prettiest camisoles instead.

She found one in white satin, the neckline made of lace trim and cut straight across, so it didn’t look like a bra or underwear necessarily. She slipped it on, thinking it certainly felt a little wicked against her skin.

Pulling on the slightly cropped jacket to her suit and buttoning the two buttons, she thought it looked sexy. She was showing some skin, but nothing outrageous, as long as she didn’t take off her jacket.

She gave herself a pep talk that she could indeed do this, slipped off the jacket and then put on a robe, so she could take the time to do her hair and put on a little makeup, saving the panties or no-panties decision until the last possible minute.

Her hands actually shook as she put on mascara.

Why did women do this to themselves? Get so worked up over a man? She found lotion, to match the scent she’d used in her bath, smoothed it over her skin around and even beneath the camisole. Which had her thinking of Wyatt’s hands under there, touching her everywhere.

Jane frowned, watching the clock move ever closer to the appointed time of their date. It wasn’t as if the man was going to push his way into her apartment and strip her naked the moment he arrived.

At least, she didn’t think so.

Maybe she could call Lainie and ask if…that might be something she should be prepared for, although how a woman prepared for someone like Wyatt to do something like that to her.

She set the bottle of lotion down, dropping the cap as she tried to put it back on. Maybe she should have a drink, and not a white wine spritzer.

He was just a man, she kept telling herself. Reasonable in some things perhaps, more good-looking than most, kind to his elderly uncle, but beyond that, just a man. She was probably all worked up over nothing.

Her doorbell rang.

Jane yelped, practically jumping out of her skin.

He was a full nine minutes early!

She dropped the robe, grabbed her skirt and put it on, along with the jacket and buttoned up. She’d never put on her panties, and she was feeling incredibly, sinfully bare, but looking in the mirror.

No one would ever have to know, she told herself as he rang the doorbell again and she went to answer it.

Wyatt stopped in the doorway and stared, a slow smile coming across his face.

“Pink is a great color on you, Jane.”

She stood absolutely still, feeling cool silk and lace against her breasts and, down there, nothing but a slight breeze coming up her short, straight-cut skirt.

He reached out, letting his fingertips skim along the lace neckline of the camisole, his eyes dark and smoky looking. “If this is underwear, I’ve changed my mind. I approve.”

“It’s not underwear,” she claimed. Not really. “It’s a camisole top.”

“Pretty,” he said appreciatively.

He looked good enough to eat, she thought, in his sleek, dark, perfectly fitted suit. But he didn’t needed to hear it. And given the look in his eyes, she really didn’t trust him not to push her down on the couch and start taking her clothes off, right here and now.

“I’m starving,” she said, taking him by the arm and steering him toward the front door. “We should go.”

“Whatever you want, Jane. I intend to be a perfect gentleman tonight.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” she told him.

But she got him out the door, into his car and on the way to the restaurant. Jane leaned back in the soft leather seats of his sleek, roomy Mercedes, and tried to relax as he drove just a tad fast for her tastes, but seemingly in perfect control.

It was just dinner, she told herself.

His cell phone rang. He took it out of his pocket, glanced at the number, then clicked it off. “Sorry. Meant to do that before I picked you up.”

“It’s all right. Mine’s not turned off, either, now that I think about it.”

She fished it out of her purse, where it had been buried under everything and saw that she had three missed calls, including two from Ms. Steele while she’d been in the tub.

“Uh, oh. Was yours from Ms. Steele?”

Wyatt nodded. “But we’re not going to think about her tonight. Tonight is for us.”

“I know, but…she called me twice, which doesn’t really bother me, but Amy, the sweet aide who’s such a great cook, she called, too, and she never calls me.”

“Jane, if you want to call her, go ahead.”

“If I don’t call, I’ll spend all night wondering what’s wrong.” She hid the redial button and waited until Amy came on the line. “Amy, it’s Jane. Is everything all right?”

“Jane, I’m so glad it’s you. Do you…know where Kathleen is?”

“She’s not at the cottage?”

“As far as we can tell, she’s not anywhere at Remington Park. She missed her regular tennis lesson and we started looking for her. Then we figued out that Mr. Gray’s missing, too. They didn’t say anything to you about…taking off for a few days, did they?”

“No. What about Gladdy? She must know.”

“We’re looking for her right now, but I thought you might know what’s going on or that, if you didn’t, you’d want to know. We can’t find Kathleen.”

“We’ll be right there,” she told Amy. “Uh. I’m with Mr. Gray’s nephew, so you don’t have to call him. I’ll fill him in. See you in a few minutes.”

Wyatt groaned as she got off the phone. “Don’t tell me.”

“They can’t find Leo or my grandmother. They’re canvassing the whole place to find Gladdy right now, hoping she knows where they are.”

Jane groaned unhappily. She’d so been looking forward to an evening with Wyatt, even if the prospect did scare her a bit.

“Can we throw uncle Leo into a dungeon in chains when we find him?”

“I wouldn’t tell on you if you did.” Jane sighed. “So, where does he like to take his women?”

“All sorts of places, but he doesn’t drive anymore. It was a battle, but we finally got rid of his car. Does Kathleen still drive?”

Jane nodded. “Not often, but she does. She and Gladdy keep a car at Remington Park that they share. Gram and Leo could be anywhere by now.”

They got to her grandmother and Gladdy’s cottage to find it in an uproar of worried older women, a few security guards and Ms. Steele in full-battle mode, questioning a withering Amy, who looked as if she just wanted to hide.

At the sight of Wyatt, Ms. Steele made a face that actually scared Jane a bit. Amy came running over to her, whispering, “She wants to fire me, Jane, and I didn’t do anything wrong. I swear.”

Jane eased around to put her body between Amy and Ms. Steele. She’d protect Amy. So would Wyatt.

The administrator puffed up her chest and glared in their direction. “So, the two of you have no idea where Mr. Gray and Ms. Carlton might be?”

“No,” Wyatt said.

“Neither said anything to you about going away for a few days?” she grilled them.

“Nothing,” Wyatt insisted.

“What about Gladdy?” Jane tried. “Gram would never take off without telling Gladdy where she was going.”

“We still have people looking for her,” Amy said.

“Did you look in Gram’s room? Are any of her things missing?” Jane continued.

“I looked, but I really wasn’t sure if she’d taken some things or not. But her big suitcase is there,” Amy offered.

“There’s a smaller matching one, something made to fit under a seat on an airplane. What about that?”

“I didn’t see it.”

Jane headed for Gram’s room, Wyatt and Amy following her. At first glance, it looked as if everything was in place. Jane opened the top two drawers. They hadn’t been cleaned out, but Amy was right. It was impossible to tell if Gram had packed for, say…a few days.

She opened the closet, saw the big suitcase, pulled it out and unzipped it.

Empty.

“She keeps the smaller bag inside the big one, to save space,” Jane said.

She did a quick sweep of the room looking for the smaller bag anyway. Wyatt helped, shaking his head when he came up empty.

“So, she’s gone,” Jane said.

They searched the grounds and Gladdy’s room for another twenty minutes before Ms. Bea, one of the residents of the cottage, woke up from her nap and came out of her room to hear that Kathleen was missing.

“Oh, my goodness. I had no idea you were all looking for her,” Ms. Bea said. “She gave me a note to give you, Jane, as she was rushing out the door this afternoon.”

The lady pulled out a familiar envelope in light yellow—Gram’s signature stationery—and handed it to Jane.

Tearing it open, Jane read:

My Darling Jane,

Please don’t be upset. I know you think this is wrong, but I’m absolutely certain it’s right, and at our age, Leo and I simply don’t have time to waste. I hate that you won’t be there for the ceremony, but we’ll be back in a few days and have our own little family celebration then.

All my love,

Gram

Wyatt, reading over her shoulder, swore softly and shook his head.

“Eloped?” Jane yelled, then turned to glare at Wyatt. “They’ve eloped?”

“No. Leo wouldn’t do that. He absolutely promised me that he would never get married again without letting me take care of the prenup,” he claimed. “I’ve cleaned up too many messes of his before, after the fact, but never again. He swore to me.”

“Gram, too,” Jane admitted. “I made her promise the same thing. She actually has an investment portfolio thanks to me. I worked hard to make sure she’ll always be taken care of financially, and she promised she wouldn’t put it at risk.”

Wyatt smiled at her admiringly, then took her face in his hands and gave her a quick, deep, satisfying kiss. “There you go. That’s my girl. Woman, I mean. What a woman!”

He let her go, as if he might have forgotten where they were, or that he’d been surprised by the impulse to grab her and kiss her that way.

Jane looked around, seeing Gram and Gladdy’s friends in the cottage beaming at them. Amy, too. Ms. Steele, on the other hand, looked at Jane as if Jane had surely lost her mind, no doubt thinking all the Gray men were troublemakers.

“So,” Wyatt said, sounding very lawyerly once again. “We can hope they remember their promises to both of us and don’t go through with this. Or that we can find them in time to stop them.”

“How can we find them?” Jane asked. “We have no idea where they went.”

“If they’ve run off to get married, they’re headed for Vegas.”

“How do you know?” Jane asked.

“Leo always gets married in Vegas,” he stated, as if it was some kind of unwritten law.

“Sentimental, is he?” Jane guessed.

“Not so much about marriage, but about the city and this one little chapel on the strip, yes. What is that place called? It’s an Elvis song.”

“Doesn’t every hurry-up wedding chapel in Vegas have something to do with an Elvis song?”

“‘Love Me Tender.’ That’s it,” Wyatt confirmed. “The Love Me Tender Wedding Chapel.”

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