She’d conceived Jack’s child.

Jennifer sank back in the chair and splayed her hands on her flat stomach.

Jack’s baby, her mind whispered. No, it was her baby. Her secret. She was not going to tell Jack about this child unless he came to her and asked her to marry him.

She wouldn’t trap him into proposing to her, thus sentencing herself to a lifetime of wondering if he truly wished to be by her side.

If Jack went to California per his original plan, he would never, ever know that this child existed.

And the serious discussion she’d scheduled for that evening? Oh, yes, they’d have that talk, but she’d keep a tight rein on her emotions. She’d wait to hear what Jack had to say.

Wait…while she hoped and prayed that he’d ask her to be his wife.…

Dear Reader,

Welcome to a spectacular month of great romances as we continue to celebrate Silhouette’s 20th Anniversary all year long!

Beloved bestselling author Nora Roberts returns with Irish Rebel, a passionate sequel to her very first book, Irish Thoroughbred. Revisit the spirited Grant family as tempers flare, sparks fly and love ignites between the newest generation of Irish rebels!

Also featured this month is Christine Flynn’s poignant THAT’S MY BABY! story, The Baby Quilt, in which a disillusioned, high-powered attorney finds love and meaning in the arms of an innocent young mother.

Silhouette reader favorite Joan Elliott Pickart delights us with her secret baby story, To a MacAllister Born, adding to her heartwarming cross-line miniseries, THE BABY BET. And acclaimed author Ginna Gray delivers the first compelling story in her series, A FAMILY BOND, with A Man Apart, in which a wounded loner lawman is healed heart, body and soul by the nurturing touch of a beautiful, compassionate woman.

Rounding off the month are two more exciting ongoing miniseries. From longtime author Susan Mallery, we have a sizzling marriage-of-convenience story, The Sheik’s Secret Bride, the third book in her DESERT ROGUES series. And Janis Reams Hudson once again shows her flair for Western themes and Native American heroes with The Price of Honor, a part of her miniseries, WILDERS OF WYATT COUNTY.

It’s a terrific month of page-turning reading from Special Edition. Enjoy!

All the best,

Karen Taylor Richman

Senior Editor

To a MacAllister Born
Joan Elliott Pickart

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For my daughter, Paige, my very own Tempe, Arizona, fire fighter

I’m a proud mommy, Peep

Books by Joan Elliott Pickart

Silhouette Special Edition

*Friends, Lovers…and Babies! #1011

*The Father of Her Child #1025

†Texas Dawn #1100

†Texas Baby #1141

‡Wife Most Wanted #1160

The Rancher and the Amnesiac Bride #1204

ΔThe Irresistible Mr. Sinclair #1256

ΔThe Most Eligible M.D. #1262

Man…Mercenary…Monarch #1303

*To a MacAllister Born #1329

Silhouette Desire

* Angels and Elves #961

Apache Dream Bride #999

†Texas Moon #1051

†Texas Glory #1088

Just My Joe #1202

ΔTaming Tall, Dark Brandon #1223

Previously published under the pseudonym Robin Elliott

Silhouette Special Edition

Rancher’s Heaven #909

Mother at Heart #968

Silhouette Intimate Moments

Gauntlet Run #206

Silhouette Desire

Call It Love #213

To Have It All #237

Picture of Love #261

Pennies in the Fountain #275

Dawn’s Gift #303

Brooke’s Chance #323

Betting Man #344

Silver Sands #362

Lost and Found #384

Out of the Cold #440

Sophie’s Attic #725

Not Just Another Perfect Wife #818

Haven’s Call #859

JOAN ELLIOTT PICKART

is the author of over seventy novels. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys watching football, knitting, reading, gardening and attending craft shows on the town square. Joan has three all-grown-up daughters and a fantastic little grandson. In September of 1995, Joan traveled to China to adopt her fourth daughter, Autumn. Joan and Autumn have settled into their cozy cottage in a charming, small town in the high pine country of Arizona.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter One

Jennifer Mackane stretched leisurely, then snuggled deeper beneath the blankets on the bed with a sigh of contentment.

She wasn’t scheduled to work today, or tonight, at Hamilton House, she mused, and would be able to spend the free hours with her precious Joey. They’d straighten up around the house and run errands, then indulge in dinner at Joey’s favorite fast-food restaurant.

She’d have the luxury of tucking a fresh-from-his-bath Joey into bed that night and reading him a story as he drifted off to sleep. Bliss. Sweet bliss.

A faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee reached Jennifer, and she knew the automatic timer on the machine had produced the hot, beckoning brew.

No, she thought. She’d stay in bed a while longer, be sinfully lazy. Then again, the coffee smelled so deliciously tempting.

“Oh, who am I kidding?” she said, laughing. “That coffee is calling my name.”

She threw back the blankets and left the bed, poking her feet into enormous yellow slippers that boasted the head of a smiling Big Bird.

Joey was so proud of those slippers he’d given her for Christmas last year, she mused. He’d gone shopping with his Uncle Brandon and Uncle Ben, the outing producing the bizarre slippers as Joey’s gift to his mom.

Jennifer had shot dagger-filled looks at Brandon Hamilton and Ben Rizzoli when she’d opened her present, and had seen the merriment and mischief dancing in their dark eyes. But she’d become accustomed to the pair’s nonsense while the three of them had grown up together. Here in the pretty little town of Prescott, nestled high in the mountains a hundred miles above Phoenix, they’d enjoyed an idyllic childhood.

Jennifer thudded her way toward the kitchen as she smoothed her red flannel nightshirt down to her knees. Big Bird’s heads bobbed up and down with each step she took.

Joey would be checking to see that she was wearing these silly creations, she knew, despite the fact that it was nearly a year since he’d given them to her.

In the large kitchen of the old, three-story Victorian house, Jennifer poured herself a mug of hot coffee, then opened the refrigerator to find the carton that would provide the splash of milk.

She hesitated and frowned, her gaze falling on the bridal bouquet on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. She added milk to the coffee, retrieved the bouquet, then settled at the kitchen table, staring at the lovely flowers as she took her first sip.

She could clearly recall the shock and dismay she’d registered when the bouquet had come sailing through the air at Megan and Ben’s wedding reception yesterday and somehow landed in her hands. She’d stared at it in wide-eyed horror, as the other women in the assembled group cheered for her, telling her she was now officially destined to be the next bride.

“No way,” she had said, poking the flowers with one finger. “Not a chance.”

She had planned to quietly slide the bouquet behind the stack of wedding gifts on the table at the reception and forget it. But Joey had been jumping up and down with excitement, declaring his mom to be a great pass catcher, just like whomever he had said caught the football from some quarterback he’d named. Joey had insisted on holding the touchdown bouquet all the way home.

Jennifer got to her feet, went to one of the cupboards and rummaged through it until she found a vase. She filled it halfway with water, then returned to the table and began to carefully dismantle the bouquet, sticking the flowers into the water.

They would now be just flowers in a vase, she decided, with no old wives’ tale connotations connected to them. Not that she actually believed in the whoever-caught-the-bouquet-is-the-next-bride theory, but why take unnecessary chances?

She had no intention of remarrying, and having the bridal bouquet take up residence in her refrigerator even overnight was long enough, thank you very much.

“There,” she said, admiring her work. “They’re flowers in a vase, nothing more. The spell is broken. End of story.”

“Hi, Mom,” a sleepy Joey said, coming into the kitchen. He peered under the table at Jennifer’s feet.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Jennifer said, her heart warming at the sight of her sleep-rumpled, five-year-old son in his Rugrats pajamas. “How’s my big boy this morning? Ready for some breakfast?”

“Guess so.” Joey slid onto a chair opposite her, yawned, then frowned. “Whatcha do to the flowers you caught?”

“They needed water to stay fresh so we could enjoy them,” Jennifer said.

“Oh. Well, you still get to be the next bride like everyone said. Can you have a chocolate wedding cake if you want to when you’re the bride? Aunt Megan and Uncle Ben’s cake tasted kinda yucky. You should pick chocolate for yours.”

“Sweetheart,” Jennifer said, “I’m not going to have a wedding cake because I’m not getting married.”

“Yes, you are,” Joey said, his voice rising. “Everyone at the party said so after you caught the flowers. You’ll be a bride like Aunt Megan was and…well, first you gotta find somebody to be the groom guy, then I’ll have a daddy like Sammy. That’s how it works, Mom. It does.”

Jennifer felt a chill sweep through her and tighten into a cold fist in her stomach.

“Joey,” she said gently, praying her voice was steady, “you’ve never said you wanted a daddy. We’re a team, you and me, the two of us. We’re doing great together, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, sure, Mom, but…” Joey shrugged. “It would be nice to have a daddy like Sammy does. They do men stuff together.”

“Well, you do…men stuff with Uncle Ben and Uncle Brandon, and even Uncle Taylor when he comes up from Phoenix. They take you fishing, camping, hiking—all kinds of things.”

“Yes, but…” Joey sighed.

“But what, sweetheart?” Jennifer said, leaning toward him.

“When I’m done doing men stuff with Uncle Ben, and Uncle Brandon, and Uncle Taylor, I have to give them back. I don’t get to keep them, Mom. I don’t have a daddy all the time like Sammy does.”

“I see,” Jennifer said softly, struggling against threatening tears. “But you know that’s because your daddy is in heaven with the angels, Joey. I can’t change that, sweetheart.”

“You could be a bride like you’re supposed to be ’cause you caught the flowers,” Joey said, nearly yelling. “All you need is a guy to wear a suit and tie and buy you a yellow ring like Uncle Ben got Aunt Megan. How come you won’t do that, Mom?”

“Joey, I realize that you don’t understand and that you’re getting angry at me because you don’t. When you’re older, bigger, this will make sense to you.”

Joey scowled and dropped his chin to his chest. “No, it won’t.”

Jennifer stared at her son, her heart aching.

She had known, somewhere in the back of her mind, that this discussion would take place one day, she thought miserably.

When Joey was three years old, he’d asked why he didn’t have a daddy, but had readily accepted the explanation that his father was in heaven with the angels.

Now, at five years old, Joey was comparing his family to that of his best friend, Sammy, and deciding it came up very short.

She’d worked so hard at being both mother and father to her son, and was eternally grateful to Ben, Brandon and Taylor for stepping in as father figures for Joey whenever they could.

But now her little boy wanted his own daddy, just like Sammy had. His uncles just weren’t enough.

Oh, Joey, I’m so sorry, Jennifer thought, blinking back tears. What he wanted, she would never give him. She could not—would not—marry again. All she could do was weather this emotional storm of Joey’s and hope, pray, it would soon pass.

Added to that heartfelt prayer was the ongoing one that Joey would never learn the truth about his father. No one knew the true facts of her past with Joe Mackane, and, heaven help her, no one ever would.

“Well,” she said, forcing a cheerful tone into her voice, “you must be a hungry boy. How would you like pancakes made in the shape of animals?”

Joey’s head popped up. “Yeah. Cool. I want a horse and elephant and hippopotamus.”

Jennifer laughed and got to her feet. “A hippopotamus? Goodness, I don’t know if I’m that talented a pancake artist, my sweet, but I’ll give it my best shot.”

Joey slid off his chair. “I’ll pour my own milk into a glass. I need milk for my bones and teeth.”

“Indeed, you do, sir,” Jennifer said, taking a bowl out of a cupboard. “You’ll grow up big and strong like…like your uncles.”

And be a fine, upstanding man like your uncles, with no hint of the lack of morals and values of your father, she mentally tacked on, as she began to prepare the pancake batter.

Joey looked so much like her—it was as though Joe had had nothing to do with the child’s creation. Joey had her wavy, strawberry-blond hair and fair complexion. His eyes were a sparkling green, and his features resembled hers. Anyone could tell that he was her son.

No, there was no hint of Joe Mackane in Joey, thank God, and there never would be as she continued to teach him the important lessons of integrity and honesty. Ah, yes, honesty. That was definitely something Joe never possessed, nor knew the meaning of.

Joe had been killed in a construction accident a week before Joey was born. In heaven with the angels? Jennifer mused. No, not even close. He wouldn’t have begun to qualify for admission. But that was something her son would never know.

After cleaning the kitchen after breakfast, during which she’d received a passing grade for her pancake hippopotamus, Jennifer showered and dressed in jeans and a green sweater that matched her eyes.

While Joey was putting away scattered toys in his room, Jennifer opened the drapes on the windows in the living room, then frowned.

There was a man standing on the sidewalk in front of the house. He was tall, extremely handsome, with dark, auburn hair, rugged features, wide shoulders, and long, muscular jeans-clad legs. His hands were shoved into his jacket pockets, and he was staring at the top of the house, apparently unaware of her sudden appearance in the window.

What was he doing there? Jennifer wondered. Who was he? If he was a thief casing the place, he wasn’t being very subtle about it.

All right, he had two minutes to be on his way, or she was going to march out there and confront him.

Jennifer narrowed her eyes.

Maybe that was dumb. Friendly, small-town Prescott or not, it was probably foolish to demand an explanation from a perfect stranger.

Perfect? Well, on a score of one to ten, the man was an eleven as far as looks and build went—but that was beside the point. She was a woman alone with a small, vulnerable boy to protect.

No, she’d give it another minute, then call Sheriff Montana and tell him about the stranger who was still—darn him—scrutinizing her home, her safe haven. He would handle this in the proper manner.

Okay, buddy, she thought, it’s now one minute and counting.

Jennifer’s breath caught as her gaze connected with the stranger’s. He smiled, sketched a salute, then spun around and walked down the sidewalk.

A frisson of heat coursed through her and settled low in her body. She wrapped her hands around her elbows, then moved to the edge of the window, watching until the man disappeared from view.

Dear heaven, she thought, that smile of his should be registered as a lethal weapon, along with the loose-limbed, oh-so-sexy way he walked.

It had been many years since she’d had a sensual response to a member of the opposite sex. It was unsettling, to say the least, and very unwelcome.

It was also borderline crazy. She’d had a physical reaction to a man she didn’t even know, and who might very well be a thief contemplating breaking into her house to steal her worldly goods, such as they were.

What on earth was the matter with her? she thought, shaking her head. On that horrifying day of Joe’s funeral, when she’d learned the truths that had shattered her world, she’d begun the process of building a wall around herself.

Never again, she had vowed, would a man awaken her sexuality. Never again would a man touch her heart or her body. Never again would she love someone who was capable of destroying her.

“Mom,” Joey yelled, running into the room, “I found my favorite dinosaur. It was under my bed. Cool, huh?”

Jennifer drew a steadying breath, then turned to smile at her son.

“Very cool,” she said. “Oh, it’s very dusty, too. Let’s wash it off in the kitchen sink. There’s nothing worse than a dusty dinosaur.”

That evening, Jennifer settled onto the sofa in the living room in front of the crackling fire in the hearth, and picked up the mystery novel she was in the process of reading. Joey was fast asleep, having nodded off during the tale of Peter Pan.

She tucked her legs up close to her on the puffy cushion, spread an afghan she had knitted across her lap, and opened the book to the page that boasted a brightly colored bookmark Joey had made her for Mother’s Day.

After reading one sentence, the image of the stranger who had stood in front of her house that morning superimposed itself over the words on the page.

“Darn you,” she said, snapping the book closed. “Would you just go away and leave me alone?”

She sighed and shook her head as she set the book next to her, then stared into the leaping flames of the fire.

The anticipated, carefree day with Joey had been a disaster. Everywhere the two of them had gone, she found herself looking for that man, while at the same time registering excitement and fear.

The stranger had haunted her through the seemingly endless hours of the day. And with the thoughts of him came the disturbing remembrance of the rush of heated desire that had suffused her when he’d smiled.

“Oh-h-h, I’m driving myself crazy,” Jennifer said aloud, throwing up her hands.

Okay, enough of this, she admonished herself. She was getting a grip right now. She’d analyze this bizarre behavior of hers, figure out why she was acting so unlike her norm, then be done with it.

“Fine,” she said, tapping one fingertip against her chin. “Wait…a…minute. Of course. That’s it.”

She was the victim of a series of events that had taken place in rapid succession.

First, she’d attended the beautiful wedding of her dear friends, Ben and Megan, who were obviously deeply in love.

While she had neither the intention nor the desire to remarry, the romantic event had no doubt poked a bit at her subconscious and emphasized the lack of a special man in her life—even though she didn’t want one…

Second, she’d caught the wedding bouquet, and had been surrounded by people declaring over and over that she would soon fall in love and be the next bride.

Third, Joey had expressed his sadness over not having a father, which had made her heart ache for her son.

If one added up all those events that centered on romance, love, a husband, a daddy that Joey wouldn’t have to give back…well, it was no wonder she’d overreacted the very next time a handsome man directed a smile at her.

Thank goodness, she’d figured it out. She felt so much better. It was amazing what a little inner dialogue could do to get a person squared away.

With a decisive nod, Jennifer picked up the book, found her place on the marked page and began to read.

Just before four o’clock the next afternoon, Jennifer entered Hamilton House, the hotel where she was manager of the dining room.

The beautiful building had been completely restored by her childhood friend Brandon Hamilton, after he’d dropped out of the fast lane in New York and returned to his roots in Prescott.

The large lobby was exquisite, transporting a person back to the turn of the 19th century. The Victorian furnishings, the original cabbage-rose carpeting, the gleaming piano by the front windows—everything was perfect.

Along the far wall was a simulated old-fashioned, cobblestone street, complete with lampposts to light the way. Open-fronted specialty shops beckoned to be explored.

One of the shops, Sleeping Beauty, offered feminine apparel and luscious bath accessories. The store was a smaller version of the one in Phoenix that was owned by Taylor Sinclair’s wife, Janice.

Jennifer waved at Ryan, who was on duty behind the reception desk, then headed down the hallway that led to the dining room.

For the next hour, Jennifer was busy as she checked the reservation book for the evening ahead, spoke with the dinner and pastry chefs, reviewed and approved an order the wine steward wished to place, and conferred with the manager of housekeeping regarding the condition of the high-quality, linen tablecloths and napkins that were used in the dining room.

At five o’clock she was at her post behind the podium by the doors, ready to welcome the first guests arriving for dinner.

The flow of patrons moving in and out kept her bustling back and forth as she sat the guests at their tables and presented them with oversize menus.

A little after seven o’clock, Jennifer returned to the podium yet again, then smiled automatically as the doors to the dining room opened.

And then she stopped breathing.

Her smile disappeared, her eyes widened and her heart began to beat in a wild tattoo.

It was him, she thought frantically. The man. He was now beyond magnificent, in a dark blue sport coat over a white shirt and blue tie, and gray slacks. But it was most definitely him.

The stranger who had stood on the sidewalk in front of her house and might very well have decided on the best method to break in.

The man who had smiled at her, causing a desire to swirl within her, and who had haunted her thoughts ever since.

Dear heaven, what was he doing here? Had he followed her? Was she the reason he had studied her house? Was she being stalked by a raving lunatic?

Jennifer looked quickly around the room. What should she do? Scream at the top of her lungs? Grab the receiver to the telephone on the podium and call Sheriff Montana?

No, no, she had to calm down. She was surrounded by people, was safe…for the moment, at least. She’d just bluff her way through this until she could formulate a sensible plan.

“Good evening,” she said to the man, unable to produce even the smallest smile. “May I help you?”

Jack MacAllister walked slowly toward the podium, his gaze riveted on the woman who had spoken to him.

It was her, he thought incredulously. The beautiful lady in the window of the intriguing Victorian house.

The woman who had not been far from his mental vision ever since he’d seen her yesterday morning as he’d stood on the sidewalk in front of her home.

She was even more lovely up close. Her eyes were green—incredibly green, and her hair was a silken tumble of strawberry-blond waves to just above her shoulders. Her features were delicate, her lips made for kissing. What he could see of the pale green dress she was wearing gave hint of lush breasts beneath the soft material.

And for some unknown reason, she was staring at him as though she expected him to leap over the podium and strangle her with his bare hands.

All he had done was walk into the dining room of the hotel, but, heaven only knew why, he was scaring this breathtaking feminine creature to death.

He’d never caused that kind of reaction in a woman before.

“Good evening,” he said, stopping in front of the podium and producing his best, hundred-watt smile. “I apologize if I startled you when I opened the doors.”

“Startled me?” she said, more in the form of a squeak.

“Well, yes—I mean, you look rather…fright-ened.”

“Frightened?” She splayed one hand on her breasts. “Me?”

“Look,” Jack said, frowning as he extended one hand toward her, “I don’t know what I did to—”

She took a step backward. “Don’t come any closer. I might appear frightened, but I’m not. No, sir, not one little bit. I’m wise to you, mister. I have a great many friends in this town, including the sheriff, and you’ll never get away with it—not in a million years.”

“Huh?”

She glanced quickly around the room. “Just—just…” She flapped one hand at him. “Shuffle off to Buffalo. Get out of Dodge. Give up on whatever your diabolical scheme is before you end up in the clink.”

“Huh?” Jack said again, totally confused.

“Hey, there you are,” a deep voice said.

“Brandon—” Jack and the woman said in unison.

Brandon Hamilton strode to the podium. “Jennifer, I’d like you to meet Jack MacAllister, a good buddy of mine. Jack, this lovely lady and I have been friends since before we could walk and talk. This is Jennifer Mackane.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Mackane,” Jack said, grinning.

Chapter Two

Before Jennifer was forced to respond to Jack MacAllister’s greeting, the dining room doors once again opened.

When she saw Brandon’s wife, Andrea, and his great-aunts, twin sisters Prudence and Charity, enter the room, she nearly flung herself at them for a group hug.

“Hi,” she said weakly, then snatched up a pile of menus. “Your table is ready. Let’s go.” She shook her head slightly. “I mean, would you follow me, please?”

Rushing from behind the podium, she bumped smack-dab into Jack, and the menus went flying in all directions.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, Mr. MacAllister,” Jennifer said, not looking directly at him. “My, my, clumsy me. I’ll just pick these up and—Brandon, you have the corner table by the windows. I’ll be with you in just a second.”

Jennifer squatted to collect the scattered menus, only to have Jack hunker down next to her and retrieve two of them.

“I’ll give you a hand,” he said.

Jennifer’s head snapped up, and she found herself only inches from Jack. He was looking directly at her, a small smile on his lips.

Chocolate fudge sauce, she thought. That was the color of Jack MacAllister’s eyes. Delicious, chocolate fudge sauce. Good grief, he was handsome—so ruggedly male, as though his features had been chiseled from rough stone.

There were tiny lines by his eyes, and she guessed he was maybe thirty-five or thirty-six. His hair was thick, an auburn shade reminding her of a glossy Irish setter.

His nose was straight, his jaw square, his lips masculine but soft, as though waiting for a kiss….

Jennifer, get a grip, she ordered herself, averting her eyes from Jack’s. There was that heat again, that damnable heat, swirling low within her, pulsing, causing a warm flush to stain her cheeks.

Jennifer stood, clutching the menus to her chest. Jack rose and offered two more to her.

“Thank you,” she said, nearly snatching them out of his hand. “Brandon, why are you still here? I thought you were going over to your table.”

“We will, sweetie pie,” Aunt Charity said, “just as soon as we figure out what in the blue blazes is the matter with you.”

“Yes, dear,” Aunt Prudence said. “You do seem a teeny bit flustered this evening. Is something wrong?”

Jennifer looked at the elderly aunts. Although they were twins, their mirror image was the only similar thing about them.

Aunt Prudence was wearing a sedate gray dress with a high neck and long sleeves. Aunt Charity was decked out in yards of royal blue taffeta, the dress reminiscent of a turn-of-the-19th-century dance hall costume.

Andrea was standing next to tall, dark and handsome Brandon. Her maternity dress was peach, which accentuated her lovely, silky dark hair. She had an expression of concern on her pretty face.

“I’m fine,” Jennifer said, producing a passable smile. “I just overreacted to something I shouldn’t have overreacted to, that’s all. My imagination got the better of me and…I’m fine now.”

“Hold it,” Jack said, snapping his fingers. “The lightbulb just went on over my head. You saw me on the sidewalk in front of your house yesterday morning. Staring at your home. Casing the place, one might think. Am I getting this straight? Then I showed up here, and that scared the bejesus out of you. Right?”

Jennifer lifted her chin. “That’s correct, Mr. MacAllister. Your behavior unsettled me. I apologize for…” She frowned. “No, I don’t. I had just cause to question your intentions.”

“You betcha,” Aunt Charity said. “There was a stranger gawking at your house, for mercy’s sake. That would shake up any single, unmarried, unattached, not-even-dating-anyone woman who has a little boy to protect.”

“Thank you for sharing, Aunt Charity,” Jack said, smiling at her.

“Just stating the facts, hotshot,” Aunt Charity said, obviously pleased with herself.

Jennifer closed her eyes for a moment and squeezed the bridge of her nose as she drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then she raised her head and forced a smile into place.

“Welcome to the dining room of Hamilton House,” she said, looking at a spot above the assembled group. “May I show you to your table?”

Jack chuckled. “Why certainly, Ms. Mackane. Do lead on.”

“Call her Jennifer,” Aunt Charity said. “She’s a member of our family, and so are you now, Jack. Jennifer, call Jack…Jack.”

“That’s Jack MacAllister,” he said, grinning at Jennifer. “Not Jack the Ripper.”

“Mmm,” she said, glaring at him.

Jennifer marched across the room to the designated table. When the others joined her, she shoved the stack of menus at Brandon, who grabbed them before they fell to the floor again.

“Enjoy your dinner,” Jennifer said, then hurried away.

Everyone settled into their chairs, and Brandon passed out the menus.

“MacAllister,” Brandon said, laughing, “you’ve only been in town a couple of days and you’ve already caused trouble. New York City is probably celebrating your permanent departure, and the citizens of Ventura, California, are shaking in their shorts.”

“Hey, I’m innocent,” Jack said. “All I was doing was admiring a dynamite example of historical architecture—which is badly in need of some tender lovin’ care, by the way. I didn’t intend to shake up the lovely Jennifer. She sure has a temper to go along with that red hair of hers.”

“She’s a handful, all right,” Aunt Charity said, peering at her menu. “Has been ever since she was a little girl. It would take a very special man to be a match for our Jennifer.”

“And a father for Joey,” Aunt Prudence said.

“I assume Jennifer is divorced,” Jack said.

“No, dear,” Aunt Prudence said. “She’s a widow. Her Joe was killed in a construction accident a week before Joey was born. Jennifer returned to Prescott to raise her son. Her parents relocated to Phoenix shortly thereafter due to Jennifer’s mother having severe arthritis. Jennifer is living in their family home.”

“It’s a lovely house,” Andrea said, “but it’s an awful lot for Jennifer to keep up, I’m afraid.”

“I see,” Jack said slowly. “How old is Joey?”

“Five,” Aunt Charity said. “He’s cute as a button. Looks just like his mama.”

Jack frowned. “That’s a good many years to mourn a man, no matter how great he might have been. Aren’t there any eligible bachelors in this town?”

“Oodles,” Aunt Charity said. “Jennifer seems determined never to remarry. Heaven knows, we’ve done our darndest to fix her up with the cream of the crop around here.” She paused. “Maybe we should leap into action again, Pru. After all, Jennifer did catch Megan’s bouquet at the wedding.”

“Indeed, she did,” Pru said, smiling.

“Oh, man, here we go again,” Brandon said, chuckling. “Poor Jennifer.”

“Sounds to me like the lady knows her own mind,” Jack said. “She likes being single. End of story. The same holds true of me. All the matchmaking in the world wouldn’t get me to change my stand on the issue. I’m a bachelor and intend to remain one.”

“Wanna bet, big boy?” Aunt Charity said, leaning toward him.

“You’d better shut up, MacAllister,” Brandon said, shaking his head. “Aunt Charity and Aunt Pru are pros at this matchmaking bit. I was a confirmed bachelor, too, remember?”

“And so was Ben,” Andrea said, smiling. “As well as Taylor.”

“Yep,” Brandon said, nodding. “And now we’re all married. Don’t get too mouthy on the issue, Jack. You never know what the future holds.”

“I know what it holds for me on the subject of marriage,” Jack said. “It ain’t gonna happen.”

“Yes, dear,” Aunt Pru said, patting his hand. “We hear you.”

“Ah, how the mighty will fall,” Andrea said, smiling. “You did tell us the fascinating tale of the baby bet business that took place within the MacAllister clan, Jack. Your cousin, Forrest, was the reigning champion for eons—then kaboom, he was dethroned, so to speak.”

“Yep,” Brandon said. “That’s how the story went. The same could hold true for the remaining eligible males in a bachelor bet. Look at how many of us have taken the fall.” He glanced quickly at Andrea. “And very happily so, my sweet.”

“Nice save, Hamilton,” Andrea said, laughing.

“I’ll be pleased to take your money in a bachelor bet, Brandon.” Jack leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “So would my younger brother, Richard, I imagine. My sister is single, too, if you want to add bachelorettes to the soup.”

“I want a piece of this action,” Aunt Charity said, rubbing her hands together.

“I do believe,” Andrea said thoughtfully, “that our new sheriff, Cable Montana, would be in the camp with you and your brother, Jack.”

“The numbers grow,” Jack said, nodding. “There are simply men in this world who have no intention of marrying…ever.”

“I know,” Brandon said, grinning at Jack. “I was one of them.”

Jack flattened his hands on the table and leaned toward Brandon.

“The difference between us, buddy,” Jack said, “is that I’ll never change my stand on the issue.”

“Yes, dear,” Aunt Prudence said, smiling sweetly. “So you said.”

Jack chuckled, sat back again and shook his head.

“You’re all smiling like Cheshire cats,” he said. “You obviously believe I’m full of hot air. Oh, easy pickings, that’s what you are. Money in my pocket. How long before I can collect this bachelor bet? Do I have to be a hundred and two and still single before you pay up?”

“We’ll work out the details of that part of the bachelor bet later, big boy,” Aunt Charity said. “Here comes our waitress. Let’s eat. I’m starving to death while I’m sitting here.”

“So are we,” Andrea said, patting her protruding stomach. “Baby Hamilton is doing gymnastics to let me know she’s hungry.”

“She? She?” Brandon said, raising his eyebrows. “Have you finally accepted the fact that I’m right? That we’re having a girl? A daughter?”

“Sure, she has,” Jack said. “I told you that when Forrest finally lost the baby bet, the baton was passed to the daddy-to-be. The fathers have been right every time since. If you say it’s a girl, Brandon, then it’s a girl. Your wife is a smart lady, and realized that the baby bet has proven itself. You’re having a girl.”

“And smart person that I am,” Andrea said, “I’m putting my money on your falling in love and losing the bachelor bet, Jack.”

Over the next hour, Jennifer carried out her hostess duties by rote.

She was furious at herself. She’d behaved like an idiot in front of Brandon’s friend Jack MacAllister. Granted, she had just cause to have been frightened of Jack.

But then? Oh, good grief. Had she dismissed the incident as a misunderstanding, regained her composure and performed in a professional manner?

Oh, no, not her. She’d been caught up in a mish-mash of lingering anger, along with acute feminine awareness of Jack’s blatant masculinity. She’d turned into Ms. Fumble Fingers, dropping the menus, then added Shrew-of-the-Year to her titles while showing the group to their table.

Jennifer stepped behind the podium and stared at the reservation book, not really seeing the schedule of diners yet to arrive.

Even now, she thought, Jack MacAllister seemed to be somehow reaching out and touching her from way across the room. He was just so…there, and just so…male, and just so…

Heat feathered down her back, then wove into her to pulse low in her body. She shook her head in self-disgust, then looked at Jack from beneath her lashes.

Why? she wondered frantically. Why did that man have such a powerful and unsettling impact on her? He was just an ordinary man, for Pete’s sake.

Well, no, that wasn’t entirely true. She’d already conceded that Jack was an eleven on a scale of one to ten. He was so ruggedly handsome, so perfectly proportioned, and that thick, dark auburn hair of his was just begging to have feminine fingers sift through it.

And his eyes? Oh, those chocolate fudge sauce eyes mesmerized her and made it difficult to breathe.

Jennifer, stop it, she ordered herself, shifting her gaze back to the book. She was getting a grip—right now. All she had to do was bid Jack a pleasant goodbye as he left the dining room, and that would be that. She’d never see him again.

She frowned.

Wait a minute. Was he a guest at Hamilton House? If so, how long would he be staying in Prescott? Would he be popping into the dining room for dinner night after night? It stood to reason he’d be registered at his friend’s hotel, but for how many days?

It didn’t matter, she thought, lifting her chin. She’d been thrown off-kilter by Jack MacAllister for reasons she couldn’t begin to fathom. But she was on full-alert now, her protective walls firmly in place. She was hereby immune to the spell-weaving Mr. MacAllister, even if he smiled that knock-’emdead smile of his.

And the minute she got home tonight she was throwing away the flowers from Megan’s bridal bouquet. Unsuperstitious or not, she wasn’t taking any more chances.

Very good. She was back in control. Everything was fine. Thank heavens all of this ridiculous nonsense was at an end.

Jack listened absently as Aunt Charity related a tale of Brandon, Ben, Taylor and Jennifer’s mischievous deeds when they were children growing up together in Prescott.

Ah, here we go, he thought. Some people had just entered the dining room, which meant—yes, there it was…Jennifer’s smile. It lit up her face and caused those marvelous green eyes of hers to sparkle to the point where he was dazzled from across the room.

He’d watched her move through the tables with elegant, natural grace. She was femininity personified, and the heat throbbing low in his body told him that he was very aware of that fact, both mentally and physically. The fascinating Ms. Mackane was turning him inside out.

Which didn’t make one bit of sense.

Jennifer was the type of woman he steered clear of, big time. She was, as the saying went, encumbered—with a five-year-old son, a home, a life-style that virtually shouted that the missing ingredients were a husband and father. No way. That was not his scene, not even close.

He’d also learned that Jennifer wasn’t seeing anyone, wasn’t into the singles’ dating scene. She did not, therefore, know how to play the no-strings, no-commitment game.

Jennifer didn’t wish to remarry, which was a point in her favor. A shaky point. He’d heard that bit before, but when a guy came along who collected a hefty paycheck, lo and behold, how quickly that tune could change.

Nope, he wanted no part of the lovely Jennifer. She was more than a pleasure to look at, was feisty and funny, and dynamite when she got her temper in a roar, but he would cut a wide path around her during the remainder of his stay in Prescott.

Jack watched as Jennifer led a couple to a small table in the center of the room. The man spoke to her, and Jennifer laughed as she handed the pair their menus.

A flash of heat rocketed through him as he heard the lilting sound of Jennifer’s laughter. He shifted slightly in his chair and frowned.

Damn, he thought. Jennifer was pushing his libido buttons again. Why was she capable of doing that?

He controlled his actions and reactions toward women. He set the tempo, called the shots, and exited stage left at the first hint of possessiveness on the part of the woman in question.

He treated women with respect, showed them a good time, but he didn’t particularly trust them.

He sure didn’t know why Jennifer Mackane was able to hang him out to dry, but he’d had enough of it. She was upsetting his peace of mind and driving his raging body over the edge.

Why the hell was this happening to him—?

“Right, Jack?” Brandon said, snapping Jack back to attention.

“What?” Jack said. “Oh, sorry. I was off somewhere, I guess.”

“She’s thirty-three,” Aunt Charity said, “but she looks younger, don’t you think?”

“Who?” Jack said, an expression of pure innocence on his face.

“Give it up, hotshot,” Aunt Charity said. “I’ve been sitting here watching you watching Jennifer through this entire meal.”

“Me?” Jack said, raising his eyebrows. “Well, I may have glanced at her a time or two, but there’s no harm in looking at the scenery, Aunt Charity.”

“That’s true, dear,” Aunt Prudence said, “but you need to do more than look at our Jennifer. You should, as the gentleman I’m certain you are, speak with Jennifer privately and sincerely apologize for frightening her while you studied her home.”

“I thoroughly agree,” Andrea said decisively.

“Buy her some candy from the snazzy shop in the lobby,” Aunt Charity said, then paused. “On second thought, buy me some, too. I love the stuff.”

“Hey, I didn’t scare Jennifer intentionally,” Jack said. “It was a simple misunderstanding, that’s all.”

“Which needs to be put to rest properly,” Aunt Prudence said.

“You’re dead meat, buddy,” Brandon said, smiling. “Don’t argue the point any further, because you’d be wasting your breath. Apologize to Jennifer when you get the chance, and be done with it.”

“Mmm,” Jack said, glaring at Brandon.

“What I was saying to you when you were daydreaming,” Brandon went on, “is that you’re going to design our house while you’re in Prescott. I was bringing the aunts up to date on that.”

“Oh. Sure. Right,” Jack said, nodding. “That’s what I’m going to do, fantastic architect that I am. I’ll have those plans to you and Andrea before I head to Ventura for the MacAllister reunion. Man, Christmas is going to be a zoo with the whole clan together.”

“It sounds like fun,” Andrea said.

“I think the kids outnumber the adults by now,” Jack said. “The MacAllisters are into having babies, that’s for sure. I’ll have to learn how to talk to munchkin-type people, since I’m going to be part of the MacAllister architectural firm in Ventura. No more New York City rat race and brutal winters. Maybe I’ll even learn how to surf.”

“You did the smart thing by leaving New York,” Brandon said. “I’ve never been sorry I dropped out of the fast lane.” He smiled warmly at Andrea. “Coming home to Prescott was the best thing I ever did.”

“Thank you, love,” Andrea said, matching his smile.

“Jennifer’s hair is naturally curly,” Aunt Charity said. “No fancy perms or globby makeup for our girl.”

“Aunt Charity, would you cut it out?” Jack said. “I’m not interested in all the little details about your Jennifer. She has an interesting house that I’d love to do some restoration work on, and that’s it. Period.”

“I’m just chatting,” Aunt Charity said, batting her eyelashes at him.

Jack shook his head and laughed.

“Maybe flowers would be a better gift of apology for Jennifer,” Aunt Prudence said, pressing one fingertip to her chin. “Mmm. No, the chocolates are best, because Jennifer has fresh flowers at the moment. She caught the bridal bouquet at Megan and Ben’s wedding.”

“So you said,” Jack said, rolling his eyes heavenward. “Which means Jennifer is to be the next bride and blah, blah, blah. I hope she’ll be very happy with whatever guy she snags.”

“That’s the problem,” Aunt Charity said. “We can’t get Jennifer into snagging mode. Been working on that for years.”

“So, it’s settled, then?” Aunt Prudence said, leaning toward Jack. “You’ll purchase some dainty chocolates for Jennifer?”

Jack raised both hands in a gesture of defeat. “Yes, I’ll do it. I’ll buy the bribe and humbly apologize to Ms. Mackane. Can we change the subject now?”

“Yep,” Aunt Charity said. “I’m ready for a sinful dessert. Bring it on.”

The dining room at Hamilton House closed at eleven o’clock, then preparations were made for breakfast the next morning.

Just before midnight, Jennifer turned off the lights, locked the doors to the dining room, then walked along the hallway to the quiet lobby of the hotel.

She waved goodbye to the clerk on duty behind the registration desk, then headed toward the front doors, buttoning her coat as she went.

As she passed one of the high-back chairs, a figure rose, startling her and causing her to gasp and stumble a bit.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Jennifer frowned. “Oh? You seem to be making it your life’s work as far as I can tell.”

Jack closed the distance between them and extended a gold foil covered box toward Jennifer.

“My peace offering,” he said, smiling. “A token of sincere apology for upsetting you by staring at your house. Sweets for the sweet, and all that.”

Jennifer looked at the box, Jack’s face, the box, then narrowed her eyes as she met Jack’s gaze again.

“Aunt Pru and Aunt Charity put you up to this, didn’t they?” she said.

“Well…” Jack said slowly.

Jennifer sighed and took the offered box of chocolates. “All right. So be it. I accept your apology, and the whole business is forgotten. You didn’t have to stay up until midnight to do this.”

Jack shrugged. “I’m a night owl.” He paused. “May I walk you to your car?” What? he thought incredulously. Where did that come from? His intention had been to hand over the dumb candy, then head to his room and the soft bed that was waiting for him.

Jennifer laughed, and a bolt of heat shot through his body, causing him to frown at his now-familiar reaction to the lilting sound.

“You really don’t want to volunteer to walk me to my car, Mr—Jack,” Jennifer said. “It’s parked in the driveway at my house. Thank you for the candy. My son, Joey, and I will enjoy it. Good night.”

“Wait a minute,” Jack said, as Jennifer started to move around him. “How are you getting home if you didn’t drive to work?”

“I walked. Since you’re so familiar with the location of my house, you know it’s only a few blocks away, and the weather is surprisingly mild for mid-November in Prescott.” Jennifer shrugged. “So, I walked.”

“Are you nuts?” Jack said, his voice rising. “You can’t stroll along the sidewalk at midnight. You’ll get mugged before you go ten feet.”

“I certainly will not,” Jennifer said, matching his volume. “This is Prescott, Arizona, not…wherever it is you’re from.”

“New York City, and I don’t care if this is cute little Prescott. You’ve got no business walking home alone at this hour.”

“I do it all the time.”

“Well, you’re not doing it tonight,” Jack said, taking her elbow. “Let’s go.”

Jennifer jerked her arm free of Jack’s grasp.

“You are, without a doubt, one of the pushiest, rudest men I have ever met,” she said. “You may be Brandon’s friend, but that doesn’t mean that I have to like you—which I don’t. Good night, Mr. MacAllister.”

Jennifer marched toward the front doors of the hotel. Jack fell in step beside her, causing her to stop as she placed one hand on the door latch.

“Now what?” she said.

“I’m going for a midnight walk, that’s all,” Jack said, smiling at her. “If I happen to meander in the direction of your house…sue me.”

“You’re really exasperating, do you know that?” Jennifer said. “Fine. Whatever. I’m not wasting any more of my time arguing with you. Your death, however, will not be on my conscience.”

“What death? I thought you said it was safe out there on the streets.”

“Oh, it is. However, you’re not even wearing the sport coat you had on at dinner. This is not shirtsleeve weather. If you get pneumonia and croak, it will serve you right.”

Jack chuckled. A shiver slithered down Jennifer’s back as she heard the sexy, male rumble.

“I don’t suppose,” he said, “that you’d wait while I went to my room for a jacket, would you?”

“Not a chance.”

“Didn’t think so.”

“End of story,” Jennifer said, lifting her chin. “Goodbye.”

Jennifer pushed open one of the doors and left the hotel.

Jack followed right behind her.

Chapter Three

The night was clear, crisp and incredibly quiet.

A million stars twinkled in the black-velvet sky, creating a silvery beacon to show the way as Jennifer and Jack turned the corner and left the lights of downtown Prescott behind.

Jack shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and hunched his shoulders against the chill as he matched Jennifer’s long-legged stride along the sidewalk.

He was out of his tiny mind, he thought, mentally shaking his head. He probably would catch pneumonia and croak, which would be his just desserts for this ridiculous performance.

There he was, slowly freezing to death, as he escorted a woman—one who didn’t wish to be escorted —home at midnight. Yep, he was definitely certifiably insane.

But…well, what could he say? A foreign sense of protectiveness had consumed him when Jennifer had announced she was about to walk home alone. There was no way he could just stand in the warmth of the hotel lobby and watch her set out on her own.

Oh, man, he was cold. He needed to do something to shift his attention from the fact that the blood was freezing in his veins. So, MacAllister, talk to Jennifer.

“Well, here we are,” he said.

“Mmm,” Jennifer said.

“Sure is quiet.”

“Mmm.”

“I’m used to New York, you know, the city that never sleeps.”

“Mmm,” Jennifer said again.

Jack sighed in defeat and trudged on.

Jennifer slid a glance at Jack, then looked quickly back down at her feet. She was being rude, she knew, by refusing to engage in the simplest conversation. But she just couldn’t chatter like a magpie. Not yet. Not until she regained at least a modicum of control over her raging emotions.

She was acutely aware—again—that Jack’s powerful male presence was causing heat to thrum within her despite the chill of the night.

But something more unsettling her now. When she’d realized that Jack intended to see her safely to her door even though he didn’t have a jacket to wear, she’d had to struggle against very unwelcome tears.

Dear heaven, how long had it been…if ever…since she’d felt protected and watched over by a man?

How long had it been…if ever…since she had been made to feel special and important due to the actions of a man?

How long had it been…if ever…since she’d been able to relax and just be, because someone else had stepped in and taken charge?

Jack’s stubborn insistence on walking her safely home had touched a place deep within her, and she’d been nearly overwhelmed by the emotions that gesture had evoked.

Oh, Jennifer, stop, she ordered herself.

Jack MacAllister wasn’t Prince Charming riding to the rescue of a damsel in distress. He was a smooth operator who was accustomed to having his way with women, a man who rarely heard “no,” she figured, from a member of the opposite sex.

They had engaged in a battle of wills of sorts, on the subject of her going home alone, and Jack obviously couldn’t deal with losing the war. So there he was, freezing his tush off in order to proclaim himself the victor. What a dunce.

“Cold?” Jennifer said, glancing over at Jack.

He chuckled. “You’d better believe it. This was a pretty dumb thing to do, but my big-city instincts kicked in and…Well, I was obviously wrong. This town is buttoned down so tight, we haven’t even seen a stray dog.”

“You’re admitting that I was right?” Jennifer said, surprise evident in her voice.

“Yep.”

“Oh.” She smiled. “Fancy that.”

“What did you think? That I was on a big macho trip here? It’s hard to be a hero when there aren’t any dragons to slay.” Jack laughed. “What I am is a six-foot popsicle.”

Jennifer stopped walking, and Jack skidded to a halt.

“Jack, this is silly,” she said, smiling. “Why don’t you turn around and head back to the hotel. Jog or something to get there as quickly as possible. I appreciate your gentlemanly gesture here, but as you can see, it really isn’t necessary.”

“Hey, we’re almost to your house,” he said, matching her smile. “A jacket of Joey’s obviously wouldn’t fit me, but if I beg, maybe you’ll loan me a blanket for my return journey in the wilds.”

“I’d be happy to.”

Jack nodded as he continued to look directly into Jennifer’s eyes, now clearly visible in the silvery glow of the stars.

Neither of them moved. They hardly breathed. Time lost meaning. Heat began to curl and swirl within them, gaining force, pulsing low.

A sudden chill coursed through Jennifer, a wave of fear, of knowing she was losing control of the very essence of herself.

“No,” she whispered, then spun around and hurried down the sidewalk.

Jack shook his head slightly to shake off the strange, sensuous spell that had been woven over him. “Man,” he said, then took a much-needed deep breath.

He glanced quickly in the direction Jennifer had gone, then sprinted after her, catching up as she turned onto the cobblestone walk leading to her house. She was fumbling in her purse for her key while holding the box of chocolates in her other hand.

“Jennifer—” Jack started.

“No,” she said, going up the steps of the wide front porch.

She unlocked the door and entered the house with Jack right behind her. “I’ll get you a blanket,” she said, her back to him as he entered the house and shut the door behind him.

“Jennifer, wait a minute,” he said. “We need to talk about what happened a minute ago.”

She spun around, her green eyes flashing. “No, we do not,” she said, her voice not quite steady. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“But you felt it, I know you did. The heat, the pull, the—”

“Lust,” she said, lifting her chin. “Let’s give it the tacky title it deserves, shall we? That’s what it was—lust. And as far as I’m concerned, the incident is forgotten. I certainly don’t wish to discuss it.”

Jack frowned, then shook his head slowly. “No, that wasn’t lust,” he said thoughtfully. “Nope. No way. I know lust when I’m caught up in it and that…whatever it was that took place between us was something very, very different.”

Jennifer dropped her purse and the candy box onto the sofa facing the fireplace, where embers of a dying fire still glowed. Her coat joined the lot moments later.

“Whatever,” she said, looking at Jack again. “You have your opinion. I have mine. It really doesn’t matter because the subject is closed.”

“What are you afraid of?” Jack said, studying her intently. “I mean, hey, I’m a tad shook up myself here, because I’ve never experienced anything quite like that before. But I’m not afraid of it. I want to know what it was.”

“Well, I don’t,” she said, wrapping her hands around her elbows. “Jack, please, let it go. It’s late, I’m tired, and I have to be up early in the morning to get Joey ready for kindergarten.”

Jack swept his gaze over the large room that was furnished with worn but comfortable chairs and a sofa. The tables were oak and had seen better days.

“Where’s your baby-sitter?” he said.

“When I’m on this shift at the hotel, Joey sleeps at Mildred Clark’s house next door. Mildred is a wonderful woman who is like a grandmother to Joey. In fact, he calls her Grandma Clark and…Oh, forget it. Why am I explaining all this to you?”

Jack smiled. “Because I asked?”

“Don’t smile,” she said, nearly yelling. “Don’t you dare smile that smile at me.”

“Huh?” he said, definitely no longer smiling.

Jennifer pressed one hand to her forehead for a moment. “I’m losing it. I really am. This is insane. I don’t behave this way. What on earth is the matter with me?”

“Gotcha,” Jack said, pointing at her. “See? You do want to know what that strange spell was that came over us out there in the cold, dark night. Whatever it was is what on earth is the matter with you. Get it?”

“What I’m going to get, mister,” she said, “is a blanket for you. Then you are marching yourself out of here. Get it?”

“Got it.”

“Good.”

Jennifer nodded decisively, then left the room, returning minutes later with a blanket.

Jack burst into laughter. “You’re kidding,” he said. “You’re sending me packing wrapped in a Winnie-the-Pooh blanket?”

“You’ll be cute as a button,” she said, shoving the brightly colored blanket at him. “Goodbye.”

Jack tucked the blanket under one arm. “Okay. I’m gone. Lock up behind me.”

At the door, Jack hesitated and turned. Jennifer was right behind him; their toes were nearly touching.

“I think—” he said quietly. “I truly believe…that you have the same questions and want the same answers that I do. It’s all very confusing, don’t you think?”

“I—”

“Shh.”

Jack slid his free hand to the nape of Jennifer’s neck, lowered his head and claimed her mouth with his.

Jennifer’s eyes flew wide open in shock, but in the next instant her lashes drifted down as heat suffused her. Of their own volition her arms floated upward, then her hands encircled Jack’s neck.

She savored the feel, the taste, the wondrous sensation of Jack’s lips on hers, and offered no resistance as his tongue slipped into her mouth to seek and find her tongue.

Jack dropped the bulky blanket and gathered Jennifer close to his body, deepening the kiss as desire rocketed through him. He raised his head a fraction of an inch, then slanted his mouth in the opposite direction, drinking in the tantalizingly sweet taste of Jennifer. Heat coiled low and tight within him, arousing him almost to the point of pain.

Jennifer, his mind hummed. He’d known, just somehow known that it would be far, far more than just a simple kiss. It would be ecstasy.

Jennifer was responding to him, holding nothing back, returning his kiss with total abandon. He felt ten feet tall because Jennifer was, in this moment stolen out of time, his.

Jack groaned in pure male pleasure as he pressed Jennifer even more tightly against him, relishing the feel of her lush breasts being crushed to his chest.

Oh, his mind thundered, how he wanted her, wanted to make love with Jennifer Mackane through the remaining hours of the night.

The rumbling sound of Jack’s sensual moan penetrated the mist encasing Jennifer, bringing her back to reality with a thud, jarring her from the rosy, sensuous place she’d floated to.

She broke the kiss, jerked out of Jack’s embrace, then took a shaky step backward as she drew a steadying breath.

Jack shook his head slightly. “Whew. That was—You are…Whew.”

“That was,” Jennifer said, hearing the thread of breathlessness in her voice, “a mistake, should never have happened.”

“Why not?” Jack said, frowning. “It was sensational and equally shared.”

“I…” Jennifer started, then threw up her hands. “Yes, all right, I can’t deny that I…took part in that kiss.”

Jack smiled. “Kisses. Plural.”

“Whatever,” she said, hugging herself. “The fact remains that it—they, those kisses—were a mistake. I don’t behave like this…ever. I don’t know what came over me, but I’d appreciate it if you’d forget that this incident ever took place.”

“Incident?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Lady, it was a happening, an event, that defies description. Forget it? No way. Are you telling me that you can honestly forget how you felt, how you responded to me?”

“Yes. No. I…Jack, please, just go. I’m embarrassed and upset and—Just leave.”

“Hey,” he said gently, “don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re a young, healthy, beautiful woman, with wants and needs that are nothing to be ashamed of. We felt it—both of us. The desire—not lust, desire. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Yes, there is,” she said, her voice rising, “because I don’t want any part of feeling that heat, that need, that…No. I have no room for all that in my life—not anymore. Not now. Not ever again.”

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” Jack said, matching her volume. “So, okay, you loved your husband, but, my God, Jennifer, it’s been five years since that man died. He wouldn’t want you to grieve for a lifetime, to cease to exist as a woman. You can’t mourn him forever.”

“You don’t understand.”

“No, I sure as hell don’t,” he said, restlessly raking a hand through his hair. “What I do understand—what I know—is that you want me as much as I want you.”

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head.

Jack sighed in exasperation, then leaned down and grabbed the blanket from the floor. “I’m leaving now, Jennifer,” he said, “but this discussion isn’t over. There’s something happening between us, and I want to know what it is. I’ll be back.”

Jack turned and left the house, closing the door with a tad more force than was necessary.

Jennifer walked to the door on trembling legs, snapped the lock into place, then rested her heated forehead on the cool, smooth wood.

Dear heaven, she thought frantically, what had she done? She’d responded to Jack’s kisses like some wanton hussy, had pressed her body to his, had felt his arousal surging full and heavy against her and had inwardly rejoiced in the knowledge that such a magnificent man wanted her. Her.

Sensuous images had flitted through her passion-laden mind of clothes disappearing by magic, of tumbling naked onto her bed and reaching eagerly for Jack, bringing him to her to fill her emptiness, to awaken her sleeping femininity with glorious lovemaking.

I’ll be back.

Jack’s fiercely spoken words echoed in her head, and she spun around, her eyes darting across the room in a near-hysterical search for somewhere to hide.

“To hide from Jack?” she said aloud, as tears stung her eyes. “No, heaven help me, to hide from myself.”

This was her fault. She wasn’t who she really was when she was with Jack. She didn’t know why—just did not know why, but she did know she would be certain never to be alone with Jack MacAllister again.

Exhaustion swept over her like a heavy curtain, and she stumbled across the room, turning off the lights as she went. A short time later she slipped into bed, a weary sigh escaping from her lips as her head touched the soft, welcoming pillow.

Sleep. She needed to sleep, to escape from the turmoil in her mind, to put hours of distance between herself and what had transpired with Jack in her living room.

Sleep, she thought foggily. Then morning would come and everything would be fine in the light of the new day.

When sunlight tiptoed into Jennifer’s bedroom the next morning and nudged her awake, she stirred, opened her eyes slowly…and thought of Jack.

With a muttered “Damn him,” she threw back the blankets on the bed and stomped into the bathroom for her shower.

Dressed in jeans, a navy-blue sweatshirt and her Big Bird slippers, she entered the kitchen twenty minutes later in a less-than-chipper mood. With a mug of hot coffee in one hand, she began to assemble Joey’s breakfast with the other, a frown on her face.

“Mom,” Joey said, coming into the kitchen.

“What!” Jennifer snapped. Then her shoulders slumped. “Oh, Joey, I’m sorry. I sound like a grumpy bear. Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?” She paused. “How did you get into the house?”

“You didn’t answer my knock at the front door, and the doorbell’s broke, and I had to use the key from under the mat to get in.”

Jennifer set her mug on the counter and lifted Joey into her arms. “I apologize,” she said, then kissed him on the nose. “I didn’t start my day with my best foot forward, but I’m fine now. I’ll fix you breakfast, then walk you to school.”

“’Kay,” he said, wiggling to get down.

Jennifer set him on his feet.

“But don’t hold my hand when we turn the corner by the school, Mom,” Joey said, sliding onto his chair at the table. “That’s baby stuff, and I’m big now.”

“Yes, you certainly are getting big,” she said quietly. “Very quickly, too. You’ll be grown and gone before I know it.”

Joey frowned. “Gone where? I belong here with you. I’m never going to leave you, Mommy. Never, ever, never. ’Cause if I did, you’d be all alone.” He straightened in his chair and smiled. “No, you wouldn’t. Not if you were the next bride ’cause you caught the flowers. Then you’d have a groom guy and you wouldn’t be alone at all.”

To Jennifer’s dismay she was assaulted by the memory of being held so tightly in Jack’s embrace, wrapped in the safe, strong cocoon of his arms as he kissed her.

“Don’t start that again, Joey. I am not going to be the next bride. I’ll be just fine when I’m alone after you’re grown up. Clear?”

“No,” he said, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout. “I’m going to talk to Uncle Ben and Uncle Brandon about this. I’m going to tell them that you’re breaking the rules about catching Aunt Megan’s flowers. You told me I should never break rules, Mom.”

“Oh, my stars,” Jennifer said, rolling her eyes heavenward. “I don’t believe this. We are now changing the subject. What do you want for breakfast? Cereal? Toast? Eggs?”

“Hot dog with mustard.”

“Why not?” she said, throwing up her hands.

“And potato chips,” Joey added.

“Don’t push your luck, sir. I’ll trade you potato chips for a banana.”

“And orange soda.”

“Milk.”

Joey sighed. “’Kay.”

Jennifer began to prepare the agreed-upon breakfast as Joey chattered about beating Grandma Clark at Candy Land the previous evening.

Jennifer laughed. “Poor Grandma Clark. You played Candy Land again? She can probably do it in her sleep by now.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.”

“Guess what, Mom. It’s my turn to feed the gerbil at school today. That is so cool. Can I have a gerbil of my own? I’ll keep it in my bedroom.”

“Oh, ugh, no,” Jennifer said, smiling. “Those things remind me of mice. Just enjoy the one at school.”

“Can I have a dog? Know what? Sheriff Montana told me he might get a dog. If I had a dog, then my dog and Sheriff Montana’s dog could be friends. Wouldn’t that be really great?”

“One hot dog with mustard, plus a banana,” Jennifer said, placing a plate in front of Joey. “There—you have a dog.”

“That’s a hot dog,” Joey said, giggling.

“A dog is a dog. I’ll get your milk.”

Jennifer crossed the room and took a carton of milk from the refrigerator. As she turned again, she saw Joey jump from his chair. “Where are you going?” she said.

“Somebody is knocking at the front door,” he said, running from the room.

“So early?” she said, frowning. “Wait, Joey. Don’t open the—darn it.”

Jennifer hurried after Joey as quickly as her Big Bird slippers would allow, the carton of milk still in one hand. Joey flung open the door, and Jennifer stumbled slightly before coming to a halt behind him.

“Hi,” Joey said.

“Hi. I’m Jack MacAllister, a friend of your mom’s. You must be Joey. I borrowed your blanket last night and I came to return it. I also brought some fresh cinnamon rolls from Hamilton House as a thank-you gift for allowing me to use your Pooh bear.”

Jack shifted his gaze slowly to look at Jennifer. “Good morning, Jennifer,” he said, smiling. “May I come in?”

“Sure,” Joey said, stepping back and bumping into his mother.

Jack entered the house, and Joey slammed the door.

Jack swept his gaze over Jennifer, chuckling as he gave special attention to her feet. “Love the slippers,” he said, grinning at her. “Milk? Great,” he added, nodding toward the carton in her hand. “That will hit the spot with these cinnamon rolls. Come on, Joey. Let’s dig into these goodies while they’re still warm.” He dropped the blanket onto the sofa.

As Joey and Jack headed for the kitchen, Jennifer just stood where she was, Big Bird slippers on her feet, a carton of milk in her hand.

“My life,” she said, a rather bemused tone to her voice as she stared into space, “is suddenly out of control.”

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