Make time for friends. Make time for

DEBBIE

MACOMBER

CEDAR COVE

16 Lighthouse Road

204 Rosewood Lane

311 Pelican Court

44 Cranberry Point

50 Harbor Street

6 Rainier Drive

74 Seaside Avenue

8 Sandpiper Way

92 Pacific Boulevard

1022 Evergreen Place

1105 Yakima Street

A Merry Little Christmas

(featuring 1225 Christmas Tree Lane and 5-B Poppy Lane)

BLOSSOM STREET

The Shop on Blossom Street

A Good Yarn

Susannah’s Garden

(previously published as

Old Boyfriends)

Back on Blossom Street

(previously published as Wednesdays at Four)

Twenty Wishes

Summer on Blossom Street

Hannah’s List

A Turn in the Road

Thursdays at Eight

Christmas in Seattle

Falling for Christmas

A Mother’s Gift

Angels at Christmas

A Mother’s Wish

Be My Valentine

Happy Mother’s Day

On a Snowy Night

Home for Christmas

Summer in Orchard Valley

Summer Wedding Bells

Summer Brides

This Matter of Marriage

The Perfect Match

The Summer Wedding

THE MANNINGS

The Manning Sisters

The Manning Brides

The Manning Grooms

THE DAKOTAS

Dakota Born

Dakota Home

Always Dakota

The Farmer Takes a Wife

(Exclusive short story)

The Summer Wedding

The Man You’ll Marry

Groom Wanted

Debbie Macomber

www.mirabooks.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

The Man You’ll Marry

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Groom Wanted

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Endpages

Copyright Page

The Man You’ll Marry

Debbie Macomber

For Jenny and Kevin

One

Jill Morrison caught her breath as she stared excitedly out the airplane window. Seattle and everything familiar was quickly shrinking from view. She settled back and sighed with pure satisfaction.

This first-class seat was an unexpected gift from the airline. The booking agent had made a mistake and Jill turned out to be the beneficiary. Not a bad way to start a long-awaited vacation.

She glanced, not for the first time, at the man sitting beside her. He looked like the stereotypical businessman, typing industriously on a laptop, his brow furrowed with concentration. She couldn’t tell exactly what he was doing, but noticed several columns of figures. He paused, and something must have troubled him, because he reached for a calculator in his briefcase and punched out a series of numbers. When he’d finished, he returned to his computer. He seemed impatient and restless, as though he begrudged the travel time. Not a good sign, in Jill’s opinion, since the flight to Honolulu was scheduled to take five hours.

He wasn’t the talkative sort, either. In her enthusiasm before takeoff, Jill had made a couple of attempts at light conversation, but both tries had met with minimal responses, followed by cool silence.

Great. She was stuck sitting next to this grouch for the beginning of a vacation she’d been planning for nearly two years. A vacation that Jill and her best friend, Shelly Hansen, had once dreamed of taking together. Only Shelly wasn’t Shelly Hansen anymore. Her former college roommate was married now. For an entire month Shelly Hansen had been Shelly Brady.

Even after all this time, Jill had problems taking it in. For as long as Jill had known Shelly, her friend had been adamant about making her career as a producer of DVDs her highest priority. She’d vowed that men and relationships would always remain a distant second in her busy life. For years Jill had watched Shelly discourage attention from the opposite sex. From college onward, Shelly had carefully avoided any hint of commitment.

Then it had happened. Shelly met Mark Brady and the unexpected became a reality. To Shelly’s way of thinking, her mother’s great-aunt Millicent—known to everyone in the family as Aunt Milly—was directly responsible for her present happiness. She’d met her tax-accountant husband immediately after the elderly woman had mailed Shelly a “magic” wedding dress. The same dress Milly had worn herself more than sixty years earlier.

Both Shelly and Jill had insisted there was no such thing as magic, especially associated with a wedding dress. Magic belonged to wands or fairy godmothers, not wedding dresses. To fairy tales, not real life. They’d scoffed at the ridiculous story that went along with the gown. Both refused to believe what Aunt Milly had written in her letter; no one in her right mind, they told each other, could possibly take the sweet old woman seriously. Marry the next man you meet? Preposterous.

Personally, Jill had found the whole story amusing. Shelly hadn’t been laughing though. Shelly, being Shelly, had overreacted, fretting and worrying, wondering if there wasn’t some small chance that Milly could be right. Shelly hadn’t wanted her to be right, but there it was—the dress arrived one day, and the next she’d fallen into Mark Brady’s arms.

Literally.

The rest, as they say, is history and Jill wasn’t laughing anymore. Shelly and Mark had been married in June and to all appearances were blissfully happy.

Four weeks after the wedding, Jill was flying off to Hawaii. Not the best month to visit the tropics, perhaps, but that couldn’t be helped. Her budget was limited and July offered the most value for her money.

Her seatmate leaned back and sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. Whatever problem he’d encountered earlier had persisted, Jill guessed. She must have been correct, because no more than ten seconds later, he reached for his calculator again. Jill had the impression this man never stopped working; even during their meal he continued his calculations. Not a moment of their flight time was wasted. If he wasn’t studying papers from his briefcase, he was typing more columns of figures into his computer.

An hour passed. A couple of times, almost against her will, she found herself watching him. Although she assumed he was somewhere in his mid-thirties, he seemed older. No, she decided, not older, but … experienced. His face managed to be pleasing to the eye despite his rugged, uneven features. She wondered fleetingly how he’d assess her appearance. Except he hadn’t looked at her once. He seemed totally unaware that there was anyone in the seat next to him. His eyes were gray, she’d noted earlier, the color of polished steel. There was nothing soft about him.

This was obviously a man who had it all—hand-tailored suits, Italian leather shoes, gold pen and watch. She’d bet even his plastic was gold! No doubt he lived the way he flew—first class. He was the type who had all the answers, too. The type of man who didn’t question his own attitudes and beliefs….

He reminded Jill of her father, long dead, long grieved. He, too, had been an influential businessman who’d held success in the palm of his hand. Adam Morrison had fought off middle age on a gym floor. Energy was his trademark and death was an eternity away. Only it was just around the corner, and he hadn’t known it.

Ironic that she should be sitting next to him thirteen years after his death. Not her father, but someone so much like him it was all Jill could do not to ask when he’d last seen his family.

He must have felt her scrutiny, because he suddenly turned and stared at her. Jill blushed guiltily, bowing her head over her book, reading it with exaggerated fervor.

“Did you like what you saw?” he asked her boldly.

“I—I don’t know what you mean,” she said in a small voice, moving the paperback close to her face.

For the first time since he’d taken the seat next to her, the stranger grinned. It was an odd smile, off center and unpracticed, as if he didn’t often find anything to smile about.

The remainder of the flight was uneventful. Jill held her breath during the descent, until the tires bumped down on the runway in Honolulu. She wished again that Shelly was taking this trip, too. With or without her best friend, though, Jill intended to have the time of her life. She had seven glorious days to laze in the sun. Seven days to shop to her heart’s content and to go sightseeing and to swim and relax and eat glorious meals.

For months Jill had dreamed of the wonders she would see and experience. Tranquil villages, orchid plantations—oh, how she loved orchids. At night, she’d stroll along lava-strewn beaches and by day there’d be canyons to explore, tumbling waterfalls and smoldering volcanoes. Hawaii was going to be a grand adventure, Jill felt sure of it.

The man beside her was on his feet the instant their plane came to a standstill. He removed his carry-on bag from the storage compartment above the seat with an efficiency that told her he was a seasoned traveler. The smiling flight attendant handed him a garment bag as he strode off the plane.

Jill followed him, watching for directions to the baggage pickup. Her seatmate’s steps were crisp and purposeful. It didn’t surprise her; this was a man on the go, always in a rush to get somewhere. Meet someone. Make a deal. No time to stop and smell the orchids for her friend the grouch.

Jill lost sight of him when she purchased a lei at a concession stand. She draped the lovely garland of orchids around her neck and fingered the delicate flowers, marveling at their beauty.

Once again the reminder that adventures awaited her on this tropical island moved full sail across her heart. She wasn’t the fanciful sort, nor did she possess an extravagant imagination. Not like Shelly. Yet Jill felt something deep inside her stir to life….

Shelly had become a real believer in magic, Jill mused, smiling as she bought herself a slice of fresh pineapple. For that matter, even she—ever the practical one—found herself a tiny bit susceptible to the claims of a charmed wedding dress. Just a tiny bit, though.

Jill’s pulse quickened the way it did whenever she thought about what had happened between Shelly and Mark. It was simply the most romantic thing she’d ever known.

Romance had scurried past Jill several times. Currently she was dating Ralph, a computer programmer, but it was more for companionship than romance, although he’d been hinting for several months that they should start “getting serious.” Jill assumed he meant marriage. Ralph was nice, and so far Jill had been able to dissuade him from discussing the future of their relationship. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but she just wasn’t interested in marrying him.

However, Jill fully intended to marry someday. There’d never been any question of that. The only question was who. She’d dated frequently in college, but there hadn’t been anyone special. Then, when she’d been hired as a pharmacist for PayRite, a drugstore chain with several outlets in the Pacific Northwest, the opportunities to meet eligible men had dwindled dramatically.

Prospects weren’t exactly crowding the horizon, but Jill had given up worrying about it. She’d done a fair job of pushing the thought of a husband and family to the far reaches of her mind—until she’d made one small mistake.

She’d tried on Aunt Milly’s wedding dress.

Shelly had hung the infamous dress in the very back of her closet. Out of sight, out of mind—only it hadn’t worked that way. Not a minute passed that Shelly wasn’t keenly aware of the dress and its alleged powers.

On impulse, Jill had tried it on herself. To this day she didn’t know what had prompted her to slip into the beautiful hand-sewn wedding dress. It was so elegant, so beautiful, with row upon row of pearls and delicate lace layered over satin.

That it fit as though it had been specifically designed for her had been as much of a surprise to Shelly as it had to Jill. Shelly had seemed almost giddy with relief, insisting her aunt had made a mistake and the dress was actually meant for Jill. But by that time, Shelly had already met Mark….

No, Aunt Milly hadn’t made a mistake—the wedding dress had been meant for Shelly all along. Her marriage to Mark proved it. And really, she’d have to attribute Shelly’s meeting and marrying Mark to the power of suggestion, the power of expectation—not to magic. She shook her head and hurried off to retrieve her luggage.

Then she headed outside, intent on grabbing a taxi. As the driver loaded her bags, she stood for a moment, savoring the warm breeze, enjoying the first sounds and sights of Hawaii. She couldn’t wait to get to her hotel. Through a friend who was a travel agent, Jill had been able to book a room in one of the most exclusive places on Oahu at a ridiculously low rate.

The hotel was everything the brochure had promised and more. Jill had to pinch herself when she got to her room. The first thing she did was walk to the sliding-glass doors that led to the lanai, a balcony overlooking the swimming-pool area. Beyond that, the Pacific Ocean thundered against the sandy shore. The sight was mesmerizing, the beauty so keen, it brought tears of appreciation to Jill’s eyes.

She tipped the bellhop, who’d brought up her luggage, and returned to the view. If she never went beyond this room, Jill would have been satisfied. She stood at the railing, the breeze riffling her long hair.

The hotel was U-shaped, and something—a movement, a figure—caught her eye. A man. Jill glanced across the swimming pool, across the tiki-hut roof of the bar until her gaze found what she was seeking. The grouch. In a lanai directly opposite hers. At least she thought so. He wore the same dark suit as the man with whom she’d spent five of the most uncommunicative hours of her life.

Jill didn’t know what prompted her, but she waved. After a moment, he waved back. He stepped farther out onto the lanai and she knew beyond a doubt. Their rooms were in different sections of the hotel, but they were on the same floor, their lanais facing each other.

He held a cell phone to his ear, but slowly lowered it.

For several minutes they simply stared at each other. After what seemed like an embarrassingly long time, Jill tried to pull herself away and found she couldn’t. Unsure why, unsure what had attracted her attention to the man in the first place, unsure of everything, Jill looked away.

A knock at the door distracted her.

“Yes?” she asked, opening her door. A bellhop in a crisp white uniform stood before her with a large wrapped box.

“This arrived by special courier for you earlier today, Ms. Morrison,” he explained politely.

When he’d gone, Jill studied the package, reading the Seattle postmark and the unfamiliar block printing. She carried it to the bed, still puzzled. She had no idea who would be mailing her anything from home. Especially since she’d only left that morning.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she unwrapped the package and lifted the lid. Her hands froze. Her heart froze. Her breath jammed in her throat. When she was able to move again, she inhaled sharply and closed her eyes.

It was Aunt Milly’s wedding dress.

A letter rested on top of the tissue-wrapped dress. With trembling hands, Jill reached for it.

Dearest Jill,

Trust me, I know exactly what you’re feeling. I remember my own emotions when I opened this very box and found Aunt Milly’s wedding dress staring up at me. As you know, my first instinct was to run and hide. Instead I was fortunate enough to find Mark and fall in love.

I suppose you’re wondering why I’m mailing this dress to you in Hawaii. Why didn’t I just give it to you before you left Seattle? Good question, and if I had a reasonable answer I’d be more than happy to share it.

One thing I’ve learned these past few months is that there’s precious little logic when it comes to understanding any of this—love, fate, the magic within Aunt Milly’s wedding dress. Take my advice and don’t even try to make sense of it.

I suppose I should tell you why I’m giving you the dress. I was sitting at the table one morning last week, with my first cup of coffee. I wasn’t fully awake yet. My eyes were closed. Suddenly you were in my mind, standing waist-deep in blue-green water. There was a waterfall behind you and lush, beautiful plants all around. It had to be Hawaii. You looked happier than I can ever remember seeing you.

There was a man with you, and I wish I could describe him. Unfortunately, he was in shadow. Read into that whatever you will. There was a look about you, a look I’ve only seen once before—the day you tried on the wedding gown. You were radiant.

I talked to Mark about it, and he seemed to feel the same way I did—that the dress was meant for you. I phoned Aunt Milly and told her. She said by all means to make you its next recipient.

I should probably have given you the dress then, but something held me back. Nothing I can put into words, but a feeling that it would be too soon. So I’m sending it to you now.

My wish for you, Jill, is that you find someone to love. Someone as wonderful as Mark. Of the two of us, you’ve always been the sensible one. You believed in logic and common sense. But you also believed in love, long before I did. I was the skeptic there. Something tells me the man you’ll marry is just as cynical as I once was. You’re going to have to teach him about love, the same way Mark’s taught me.

Call me as soon as you get back. I’ll be waiting to hear what happens. In my heart I already know it’s going to be wonderful.

Love,

Shelly

Jill read the letter twice. Her pulse quickened as her eyes lifted and involuntarily returned to the lanai directly across from her own.

The frantic pace of her heart slowed to normal.

The grouch was gone.

Jill recalled Aunt Milly’s letter to Shelly. “When you receive this dress,” she’d written, “the first man you meet is the man you’ll marry.”

So it wasn’t the grouch, it was someone else. Not that she really believed in any of this. Still, her knees went unaccountably weak with relief.

After unpacking her clothes, Jill showered and lay down for a few minutes. She hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but when she awoke, a rosy dusk had settled. Flickering fires from the bamboo poles that surrounded the pool sent shadows dancing on her walls.

She’d seen him, Jill realized. While she slept. Her hero, her predestined husband. But try as she might, she couldn’t bring him into clear focus. Naturally it was her imagination. Fanciful thinking. Dreams gone wild. Jill reminded herself stoutly that she didn’t believe in the power of the wedding dress any more than she believed in the Easter Bunny. But it was nice to fantasize now and then, to pretend.

Unquestionably, there was a certain amount of anticipation created by the delivery of the wedding dress and Shelly’s letter. But unlike her friend, Jill didn’t expect anything to come of this. Jill’s feet were firmly planted on the ground. She wasn’t as whimsical as Shelly, nor was she as easily influenced.

True, at twenty-eight, Jill was more than ready to marry and settle down. She knew she wanted children eventually, too. But when it came to finding the man of her dreams, she’d prefer to do it the old trial-and-error way. She didn’t need a magic wedding dress guiding her toward him!

Initially, Shelly had had many of the same thoughts herself, Jill remembered, but she’d married the first man she’d met after the dress arrived.

The first man you meet. She was thinking about that while she changed into a light cotton dress and sandals. She was still thinking about it as she rode the elevator down to the lobby to have a look around.

There must have been something in the air. Maybe it was because she was on vacation and feeling free of her usual routines and restraints; Jill didn’t know. But for some reason she found herself glancing around, wondering which man it might be.

The hotel was full of possibilities. A distinguished gentleman sauntered past. An ambassador perhaps? Or a politician? Hmm, that might be nice.

Nah, she countered silently, laughing at herself. She wasn’t interested in politics. Furthermore she didn’t see herself as an ambassador’s wife. She’d probably say the wrong thing to the wrong person and inadvertently cause an international incident.

A guy who looked like a rock star strolled her way next. Now, there was an interesting prospect, although Jill had a minor problem picturing herself married to a man who wore his hair longer than she did. He was cute, though. A definite possibility—if she took Shelly’s letter seriously.

A doctor would be ideal, Jill decided. With her medical background, they were sure to have a lot in common. She scanned the lobby area, searching for someone who looked as if he’d feel at home with a stethoscope around his neck.

No luck. Nor, for that matter, did she seem to be generating any interest herself. She might as well be invisible. So much for that! These speculations were all in fun anyway….

Swallowing an urge to laugh, she headed out the back of the hotel toward the pristine beach. A lazy evening stroll among swaying palms sounded just the thing.

She walked toward the ocean, removed her shoes and held them by the straps as she wandered ankle-deep into the delightfully warm water. She wasn’t paying much attention to where she was going, thinking, instead, about her hopes for a family of her own. Thinking about the few truly happy memories she had of her father. The Christmas when she was five and a camping trip two years later. A picnic, once. But by the time she was eight, his success had overtaken him. It wasn’t that he didn’t love her or her mother, she supposed, but—

“I wouldn’t go out much farther if I were you,” a deep male voice called from behind her.

Jill’s pulse soared at the unexpectedness of the intrusion. She saw the silhouette of a man leaning against a palm tree. In the darkness she couldn’t make out his features, yet he seemed vaguely familiar.

“I won’t,” she said, trying to see who’d spoken. Whoever it was stayed stubbornly in the shadows of the tree.

From the distance Jill noted that he had the physique of an athlete. She happened to appreciate wide, powerful shoulders on a man. She stepped closer, attempting to get a better look at him without being obvious. Although his features remained hidden, his chin was tilted at a confident angle.

She’d always found confidence an appealing trait in a man….

“I wondered if you were planning to go swimming at night. Only a fool would do that.”

Jill bristled. She had no intention of swimming. For one thing, she wasn’t dressed for it. Before she could defend herself, however, he continued, “You look like one of those helpless romantics who can’t resist testing the water. Let me guess—this is your first visit to the islands?”

Jill nodded. She’d ventured far enough onto the beach to actually see him now. Her heart sank—no wonder he’d seemed familiar. No wonder he was insulting. For the second time in a twenty-four-hour period she’d happened upon the grouch.

“I don’t suppose you took time to eat dinner, either.”

“I … had something earlier. On the plane.” That had been one of the benefits of her unexpected move to first class.

“I was there, remember?” He snickered softly. “Plastic food.”

Jill didn’t agree—she’d enjoyed it—but she wasn’t going to argue. “I don’t know what concern it is of yours,” she said.

“None,” he admitted, shrugging.

“Then my going without dinner shouldn’t bother you.” She bristled again at the intense way he was studying her. His mouth had twisted into a faint smile, and he seemed amused by her.

“Thank you for your advice,” she said stiffly, turning away from him and heading back toward the water.

“You’re not wearing your lei.”

Jill’s fingers automatically went to her neck as she stopped. She’d left it in her room when she changed clothes.

“Allow me.” He stepped forward, removed the one from his own neck and draped it around hers. Since this was her first visit to the islands, Jill didn’t know if giving someone a lei had any symbolism attached to it. She didn’t really want that kind of connection with him. Just in case.

“Thank you.” She hoped she sounded adequately grateful.

“I might have saved your life, you know.”

That was a ridiculous comment. “How?”

“You could’ve drowned.”

Jill couldn’t help it. She laughed. “Not very likely. I had no intention of swimming.”

“You can’t trust the tides here. Even this close to shore, the waves are capable of jerking your feet right out from under you. You might easily have been swept out to sea.”

“That’s absurd.”

“Perhaps,” he agreed, amicably enough. “But I was hoping you’d realize you’re in my debt.”

Ah, now they were getting somewhere. This man wasn’t given to generosity. She’d bet a month’s wages that he’d initiated the conversation for his own purposes. He’d had plenty of time on their flight from Seattle to advise her about swimming.

No, he was after something.

“What is it you want?” she asked bluntly.

He grinned that cocky, unused smile of his and nodded. Apparently this was high praise of her finely honed intuitive skills.

“Nothing much. I was hoping you’d attend a small business dinner with me.”

“Tonight?”

He nodded again. “You did mention you hadn’t eaten.”

“Yes, but …”

“It’ll only take an hour or so of your time.” He sounded impatient, as if he’d expected her to agree to his scheme without question.

“I don’t even know who you are. Why would I want to attend a dinner party with you? I’m Jill Morrison, by the way.”

“Jordan Wilcox,” he said abruptly. “All right, if you must know, I need a woman to come with me so I won’t be forced to offend someone I can’t afford to alienate.”

“Then don’t.”

“He’s not the one I’m worried about. It’s his daughter. She’s apparently set her sights on me and doesn’t seem capable of taking a hint.”

“Well, then, it sounds as though you’ve got yourself a problem.” Privately Jill wondered at the woman’s taste.

He frowned, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dinner jacket. He’d changed clothes, too, but he hadn’t substituted something more casual for his business suit. Quite the reverse. But then, that shouldn’t have surprised her. It was always business, never pleasure, with people like him.

“I don’t know what it is about you women,” he said plaintively. “Can’t you tell when a man’s not interested?”

“Not always.” Jill was beginning to feel a bit smug. She swung her shoes at her side. “In other words, you need me as a bodyguard.”

Clearly he didn’t approve of her terminology, but he let it pass. “Something like that.”

“Do I have to pretend to be madly in love with you?”

“Good heavens, no.”

Jill hesitated. “I’m not sure I brought anything appropriate to wear.”

He reached inside his pocket and pulled out a thick wad of cash. He peeled away several hundred-dollar bills and stuffed them in her hand. “Buy yourself something. The shop in the hotel’s still open.”

Two

“I’ll pay for the dress myself,” Jill insisted for the tenth time. She couldn’t believe she’d agreed to attend this dinner party with Jordan Wilcox. Not only didn’t she know the man, she didn’t even like him.

“I’ll pay for the dress,” he said, also for the tenth time. “It’s the least I can do.”

They were in the ultraexpensive dress shop located off the hotel lobby. Jill was shifting judiciously through the rack of evening gowns. Most were outrageously overpriced. She found a simple one she thought might flatter her petite build, ran her hand down the sleeve until she reached the white tag, then sighed. The price was higher than any of the others. Grumbling under her breath, she dropped the sleeve and continued her search.

Jordan glanced impatiently at his watch. “What’s wrong with this one?” He held up an elegant cocktail dress. It was made of dark green silk, with a draped bodice and a slim skirt. Lovely indeed, but hardly worth a week’s salary.

“Nothing’s wrong with it,” she answered absently as she flipped through the row of dresses.

“Then buy it.”

Jill glared at him. “I can’t afford eight hundred dollars for a dress I’ll probably wear once.”

“I can,” he returned from between clenched teeth.

“I won’t allow you to pay for my dress.”

“The party’s in thirty minutes,” he reminded her sharply.

“All right, all right.”

He sighed with relief and put out a hand for the dress. Jill stopped him.

“Obviously nothing here is going to work. I’ll check what I brought with me. Maybe what I have is more suitable than I thought.”

Groaning, he followed her to the elevator. “Wait in the hall,” she said as she unlocked her door. She wasn’t about to let a strange man into her room. She stood by the closet and rooted through the few dresses she’d unpacked that afternoon. The only suitable one was an antique-white sleeveless dress with large gold buttons down the front. It wasn’t exactly what one would wear to an elegant dinner party, but it was passable.

She raced to the door and held it up for Jordan. “Will this do?”

The poor man looked exasperated. “How do I know?”

Leaving the door open, Jill ran back to her closet. “The only other dress I have is Aunt Milly’s wedding gown,” she muttered.

“You packed a wedding dress?” His gray eyes lit up with amusement. It seemed an effort not to laugh out loud. “You apparently have high hopes for this vacation.”

“I didn’t bring it with me,” she informed him primly, sorry she’d even mentioned it. “A friend had it delivered.”

“You’re getting married?”

“No. I— Oh, I don’t have time to explain.”

Jordan eyed her as if he had plenty of questions, but wasn’t sure he wanted to ask them.

“Wear the one you showed me, then,” he said testily. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“All right, I will.” By now Jill regretted agreeing to attend the dinner party. “I’ll be ready in five minutes.” She closed the door again, but not before she got a glimpse of the surprised look on Jordan’s face. It wasn’t until she’d slipped out of her sundress that she realized he probably wasn’t accustomed to women who left him waiting in the hallway while they changed clothes.

Although she knew Jordan was impatient, Jill took an extra few minutes to freshen her makeup and run a brush through her shoulder-length brown hair. Using a gold clip, she pinned it up in a simple chignon. Despite herself, she couldn’t help feeling excited about this small adventure. There was no telling whom she might meet tonight.

Drawing in a deep breath to calm herself, she smoothed the skirt of her dress, then walked slowly to the door. Jordan was waiting for her, his back against the opposite wall. He straightened when she appeared.

“Do I look okay?”

His gaze narrowed assessingly. His scrutiny made Jill uncomfortable, and she held herself stiffly. At last he nodded.

“You look fine,” was all he said.

Jill heaved a sigh of relief, returned to her room to retrieve her purse and then joined Jordan.

The dinner party, as he’d explained earlier, was in a private room in one of the hotel’s restaurants. Jordan led the way to the elevator, his pace urgent.

“You’d better tell me what you want me to do,” she said.

“Do?” he repeated with a frown. “Just do whatever you women do to let one another know a certain man is off-limits, and make sure Suzi understands.” He hesitated. “Only do it without fawning all over me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Jill said, gazing up at him in mock adoration and fluttering her lashes.

Jordan’s frown deepened. “None of that, either.”

“Of what?”

“That thing with the eyes.” He motioned with his hand, looking annoyed.

“Should I know something about who’s attending the party?”

“Not really,” he said impatiently.

“What about you?” He shot her a puzzled look, and Jill elaborated. “If I’m your date, it makes sense I’d know who you are—something beyond your name, I mean—and what you do.”

“I suppose it does.” He buried his hands in his pockets. “I’m the CEO for a large development company based in Seattle. Simply put, we develop projects, gather together the financing, arrange for the construction, and then once the project’s completed, we sell.”

“That sounds interesting.” If you thrived on tension and pressure, that is.

“It can be,” was his only response. He looked her over once more, but his glance revealed neither approval nor reproach.

“I didn’t like you when we first met.” Jill wasn’t sure why she felt obliged to tell him this. In fact, she still didn’t like him, although she had to admit he was a very attractive man indeed. “When I sat next to you during the flight, I thought you were very unfriendly,” she continued.

“I take it your opinion of me hasn’t changed?” He cocked one brow with the question, as if to suggest her answer wouldn’t trouble him one way or the other.

Jill ignored him. “You don’t like women very much, do you?”

“They have their uses.”

He said it in such a belittling, negative way that Jill felt a flash of hot color invade her cheeks. She turned to look at him, feeling almost sorry for a man who had everything yet seemed so empty inside. “What’s made you so cynical?”

He glanced at her again, a bit scornfully. “Life.”

Jill didn’t know what to make of that response, but luckily the elevator arrived just then.

“Is there anything else I should know before we get there?” she asked once they were inside. Her role, Jill understood, was to protect him from an associate’s daughter. She had no idea how she was supposed to manage that, but she’d think of something when the time came.

“Nothing important.” He paused, frowning. “I’m afraid the two of us might arouse some curiosity, though.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t generally associate with … innocents.”

“Innocents?” He made her sound like one of the preschool crowd. No one she’d ever known could insult her with less effort. “I am over twenty-one, in case you didn’t realize it.”

He laughed outright at that, and Jill stiffened, regretting—probably not for the last time—that she’d actually agreed to this.

“I think you’re wonderful, too,” she said sarcastically.

“So you told me before.”

The elevator arrived at the top floor of the hotel, where the restaurant was located. Jordan spoke briefly to the maître d’, who led them to the dinner party.

Jill glanced around the simple, elegant room, and her heart did a tiny somersault. All the guests were executive types, the men in dark suits, the women in sophisticated dresses that could all have been bought at the little boutique downstairs. Everyone had an aura of prosperity and power.

Jill’s breath came in shallow gasps. She was miles out of her league. These people had money, real money, whereas she’d spent months just saving for this vacation. Her money was invested in panty hose and frozen dinners, not property and office towers and massive stock portfolios.

Jordan must have felt her unease, because he turned to her and smiled briefly. “You’ll be fine.”

It astonished Jill that three little words from him could give her an immeasurable boost of confidence. She smiled and drew herself up as tall as her five-foot-three-inch frame would allow.

Waiters carried trays of delicate hors d’oeuvres and narrow etched-glass flutes filled with sparkling, golden champagne. Jill reached for a glass and took her first sip, widening her eyes in surprise. Never had she tasted anything better.

“This is excellent.”

“It should be, at three hundred dollars a bottle.”

Before Jill could comment, an older, distinguished-looking gentleman detached himself from a younger colleague and made his way across the room toward them. He looked close to sixty, but could have stepped off the pages of Gentlemen’s Quarterly.

“Jordan,” he said in a hearty voice, extending his hand, “I’m delighted you could make it.”

“I am, too.”

“I trust your flight was uneventful.”

Jordan’s gaze briefly met Jill’s. “It was fine. I’d like you to meet Jill Morrison. Jill, Dean Lundquist.”

“Hello,” she said pleasantly, giving him her hand.

“Delighted,” Dean said again, turning to smile at her. He held her hand considerably longer than good manners required. Jill had the impression she was being carefully inspected and did her utmost to appear composed.

Finally, he released her and nodded toward the entrance. “If you’ll both excuse me for a moment, Nicholson’s just arrived.”

“Of course,” Jordan agreed politely.

Jill waited until Dean Lundquist was out of earshot. Then she leaned toward Jordan and whispered, “Suzi’s dad?”

Jordan made a wry face. “Smart girl.”

Not really, since few other men would have had cause to inspect her so closely, but Jill didn’t discount the compliment. She wasn’t likely to receive that many, at least not from Jordan.

“Who was that standing with him?” She inclined her head in the direction of a tall, good-looking young man. Something about him didn’t seem quite right. Nothing she could put her finger on, but it was a feeling she couldn’t shake.

“That’s Dean Junior,” Jordan explained.

Jill noticed the way Jordan’s mouth thinned and the thoughtful, preoccupied look that came into his eyes. “He’s being groomed by Daddy to take my place.”

“Junior?” Jill studied the younger man a second time. “I don’t think you’ll have much of a problem.”

“Why’s that?”

She shrugged, not sure why she felt so confident of that. “I can’t picture you losing at anything.”

His gaze swept her warmly. “I have no intention of giving Junior the opportunity, but I’m going to have a real fight on my hands soon.”

“Just a minute,” Jill said. “If Suzi is Dean Senior’s daughter, then wouldn’t a marriage between you two secure your position?” It wouldn’t exactly be a love match, but she couldn’t envision Jordan marrying for something as commonplace as love.

Jordan gave her a quick, unreadable look. “It’d help, but unfortunately I’m not the marrying kind.”

Jill had guessed as much. She doubted there was time in his busy schedule for love or commitment, just for work, work, work. Complete one project and start another. She knew the pattern.

Jill couldn’t imagine falling in love with someone like Jordan. And she couldn’t picture Jordan in love at all. As he’d said, he wasn’t the marrying kind.

“Jordan.” A woman’s shrill voice sent a chill up Jill’s spine as a beautiful blonde hurried past her and straight into Jordan’s unsuspecting arms, locking him in a tight embrace.

“This must be Suzi,” Jill said conversationally from behind the woman who was squeezing Jordan for all she was worth.

Jordan’s irate eyes found hers. “Do something!” he mouthed.

Jill was enjoying the scene far too much to interrupt Suzi’s passionate greeting. While Jordan was occupied, Jill took an hors d’oeuvre from a nearby silver platter. Whatever it was tasted divine, and she automatically reached for two more. She hadn’t recognized how hungry she was. Not until she was on her third cracker did she realize she was sampling caviar.

“Oh, darling, I didn’t think you’d ever get here,” Suzi said breathlessly. Her pretty blue eyes filled with something close to hero worship as she gazed up at Jordan. “Whatever took you so long? Didn’t you know I’d been waiting hours and hours for you?”

“Suzi,” Jordan said stiffly, disentangling himself from the blonde’s embrace. He straightened the cuffs of his shirt. “I’d like you to meet Jill Morrison, my date. Jill, this is Suzi Lundquist.”

“Hello,” Jill said before helping herself to yet another cracker. Jordan’s look told her this was not the time to discover a taste for Russian caviar.

Suzi’s big blue eyes widened incredulously. She really was lovely, but one glimpse and Jill understood Jordan’s reluctance. Suzi was very young, early twenties at most, and terribly vulnerable. She had to admire his tactic of putting the girl off without being unnecessarily rude.

Jordan had made Dean Lundquist’s daughter sound like a vamp. Jill disagreed. Suzi might be a vamp-in-training, but right now she was only young and headstrong.

“You’re Jordan’s date?” Suzi asked, fluttering her incredible lashes—which were almost long enough to cause a draft, Jill decided.

She smiled and nodded. “We’re very good friends, aren’t we, Jordan?” She slipped her arm in his and looked up at him, ever so sweetly.

“But I thought—I hoped …” Suzi turned to Jordan, who’d edged himself closer to Jill, draping his arm across her shoulders as though they’d been an item for quite some time.

“Yes?”

Suzi glanced from Jordan to Jill and then back to Jordan. Tears brimmed in her bright blue eyes. “I thought there was something special between us….”

“I’m sorry, Suzi,” he said gently.

“But Daddy seemed to think …” She left the rest unsaid as she slowly backed away. After three short steps, she turned and dashed out of the room. Jill popped another cracker in her mouth.

Several people were looking in their direction, although Jordan seemed unaware of it. Jill, however, keenly felt the interested glances. Not exactly a comfortable feeling, especially when one’s mouth was full of caviar.

After an awkward moment, conversation resumed, and Jill was able to swallow. “That was dreadful,” she muttered. “I feel sorry for the poor girl.”

“Frankly, so do I. But she’ll get over it.” He turned toward Jill. “A lot of help you were,” he grumbled. “You were stuffing down crackers like there was no tomorrow.”

“This is the first time I’ve tasted caviar. I didn’t know it was so good.”

“I didn’t bring you along to appraise the hors d’oeuvres.”

“I served my purpose,” Jill countered. “But I’m not happy about it. She’s not a bad kid.”

“Believe me,” Jordan insisted, his face tightening, “she will get over it. She’ll pout for a while, but in the end she’ll realize we did her a favor.”

“I still don’t like it.”

Now that her mission was accomplished, Jill felt free to examine the room. She wandered around a bit, sipping her champagne. The young man playing the piano caught her attention. He was good. Very good. After five years of lessons herself, Jill knew talent when she heard it. She walked over to the baby grand to compliment the pianist, and they chatted briefly about music until she saw Jordan looking for her. Jill excused herself; their meal was about to be served.

Dinner was delicious. Jill was seated beside Jordan, who was busy carrying on a conversation with a stately-looking gentleman on his other side. The man on her right, a distinguished gentleman in his mid-sixties, introduced himself as Andrew Howard. Although he didn’t acknowledge it in so many words, Jill knew he was the president of Howard Pharmaceuticals, now retired. Jill pointed out that PayRite Pharmacy, where she worked, carried a number of his company’s medications, and the two of them were quickly engaged in a lengthy conversation. By the time dessert was served Jill felt as comfortable with Mr. Howard as if she’d known him all her life.

Following a glass of brandy, Jordan seemed ready to leave.

“Thank you so much,” she told Mr. Howard as she slid back her chair. “I enjoyed our conversation immensely.”

He stood with her and clasped her hand warmly. “I did, too. If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep in touch.”

Jill smiled. “I’d enjoy that. And thank you for the invitation.”

Then she and Jordan exchanged good-nights with her dinner companion and headed for the elevator. Jordan didn’t speak until they were inside.

“What was all that with Howard?”

“Nothing. He invited me out to see his home. Apparently it’s something of a showplace.”

“He’s a bit old for you, don’t you think?”

Jill gave him an incredulous look. “Don’t be ridiculous. He assumed you and I knew each other. He just wanted me to feel welcome.” She didn’t mention that Jordan had spent the entire dinner talking with a business associate. He seemed to have all but forgotten she was with him.

“Howard invited you to his home?”

“Us, actually. You can make your excuses if you want, but I’d really like to take him up on his offer.”

“Andrew Howard and my father were good friends. My father passed away several years back, and Howard likes to keep track of the projects I’m involved with. He’s gone in on the occasional deal.”

“He’s a sweet man. Did you know he lost his only son to cancer? It’s the reason his company’s done so much in the field of cancer research. His son’s death changed his life.”

“I had no idea.” Jordan was obviously astounded that he’d known Andrew Howard for so many years and hadn’t realized he’d lost a child. “You learned this over dinner?”

“Good grief, dinner lasted nearly two hours.” She sighed deeply and pressed her hands to her stomach. “I’m stuffed. I’ll never sleep unless I walk off some of this food.”

“It would’ve helped if you hadn’t eaten half the hors d’oeuvres all by yourself.”

Jill decided to ignore that comment.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Jordan surprised her by asking.

“Not in the least, as long as you promise not to make any more remarks about hors d’oeuvres. Or lecture me about the dangers of swimming at night.”

Jordan grinned. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

They walked through the lobby and out of the hotel toward the beach. The surf thundered against the shore, slapping the sand, then retreating. Jill found the rhythmic sounds relaxing.

“What sort of project do you have planned for Hawaii?” she asked after a few minutes.

“A shopping complex.”

Although he’d answered her question, his expression was preoccupied. “Why the frown?” she asked.

He shot a quick glance her way. “The Lundquists seem to have some sort of hidden agenda,” he said.

“You said Daddy’s grooming Junior to take your place,” Jill prompted.

“It looks like I’m headed for a proxy fight, which is an expensive and costly proposition for everyone involved. For now, I have the controlling interest, but by no means do I have control.”

“This trip to Hawaii?”

“Is strictly business. I just wish I knew what’s going on behind my back.”

“Good luck with it.” This was a world far removed from Jill’s.

“Thanks.” He grinned and suddenly seemed to leave his worries behind.

They strolled for several minutes in companionable silence. The breeze was warm, the moon full and bright, and the rhythm of the ocean waves went on and on.

“I suppose I should go back,” Jill said reluctantly. She had a full day planned, beginning first thing in the morning, and although she didn’t feel the least bit tired, she knew she should get some sleep.

“Me, too.”

They altered their meandering course in the direction of the hotel, their shoes sinking into the moist sand.

“Thanks for your help with Suzi Lundquist.”

“Anytime. Just say the word and I’ll be there, especially if there’s caviar involved.” She felt guilty, however, about the young and vulnerable Suzi. Jordan had been gentle with her; nevertheless, Jill’s sympathy went out to the girl. “I feel kind of bad for Suzi.”

Jordan sighed. “The girl just won’t take no for an answer.”

“Do you?”

“What do you mean?”

Jill stopped a moment to collect her thoughts. “I don’t understand finance, but it seems to me that you’d never get anywhere if you quit at the first stumbling block. Suzi takes after her father and brother. She saw what she wanted and went after it. Rather an admirable trait, I guess. I suspect you haven’t seen the last of her.”

“Probably not, but I won’t be here for more than a few days. I should be able to avoid her during that time.”

“Good luck,” she said again. She hesitated when they reached the pathway, bordered by vivid flowering shrubs, that led to the huge lighted swimming pool.

Jordan grinned. “I have a feeling I’m going to need it.”

The night couldn’t have been more perfect. It seemed such a shame to waste these romantic moments, but Jill finally forced herself to murmur good-night.

“Here,” Jordan said just as she did.

Jill was startled when he presented her with a single lavender orchid. “What’s this for?”

“In appreciation for all your help.”

“Actually, I should be the one thanking you. I had a wonderful evening.” It sure beat sitting in front of her television and ordering dinner from room service, which was what she’d planned. She held the flower under her nose and breathed in its delicate scent.

“Enjoy your stay in Hawaii.”

“Thank you, I will.” Her itinerary was full nearly every day. “I might even see you … around the hotel.”

“Don’t count on it. I’m headed back to Seattle in two days.”

“Goodbye, then.”

“Goodbye.”

Neither moved. Jill didn’t understand why. They’d said their good-nights—there seemed nothing left to say. It was time to leave. Time for her to return to her room and sleep off the effects of an exceptionally long day.

She made a decisive movement, but before she could turn away, his hand at her shoulder stopped her. Jill’s troubled eyes met his. “Jordan?”

He caught her chin, his touch light but firm.

“Yes?” she whispered, her heart in her throat.

“Nothing.” He dropped his hand.

Jill was about to turn away again when he stepped toward her, took her by the shoulders and kissed her. Jill had certainly been kissed before, and the experience had always been pleasant, if a bit predictable.

Not this time.

Exciting, unfamiliar sensations raced through her. Jordan’s mouth caressed hers with practiced ease while his hands roved her back, moving slowly, confidently.

Jill was breathless and weak when he finally broke away. He stared down at her with a perplexed look, as if he’d shocked himself by kissing her. As if he didn’t know what had come over him.

Jill didn’t know, either. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, and then she remembered something Shelly had told her—the overwhelming sensation she’d experienced the first time Mark had kissed her. From that moment on, Shelly had known her fate was sealed.

Jill had never felt anything that even came close to what she’d just felt in Jordan’s arms. Was it possible? Could there be something magical about Aunt Milly’s wedding dress? Jill didn’t know. She didn’t want to find out, either.

“Jill?”

“Oh, no,” she moaned as she looked up at him.

“Oh, no,” Jordan echoed, apparently amused. “I’ll admit women have reacted when I’ve kissed them, but no one’s ever said that.”

She barely heard him.

“What’s wrong?”

“The dress …” Jill stopped herself in time.

“What dress?”

Jill knew she wasn’t making any sense. The whole thing was ridiculous. Unbelievable.

“What dress?” he repeated.

“You wouldn’t understand.” She had no intention of explaining it to him. She could just imagine what someone like Jordan Wilcox would say when he heard about Aunt Milly’s wedding dress.

Three

Jill glared at Jordan. He had no idea how devastating she’d found his kiss. And the worst of it was, she had no idea why she was feeling this way.

“Jill?” he said, eyeing her suspiciously. “What does my kissing you have to do with a dress?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them. “It doesn’t have anything to do with it,” she blurted without thinking, then quickly corrected herself. “It’s got everything to do with it.” She knew she was overreacting, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. All he’d done was kiss her! There was no reason to behave like a fool. She had a good excuse, however. It had been a long and unusual day compounded by Shelly’s letter and the arrival of the wedding dress. Who wouldn’t be flustered? Who wouldn’t be confused—especially in light of Shelly’s experience?

“You’re not being too clear,” Jordan told her.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“What dress are you talking about?” he asked patiently. “Could you explain yourself?”

Jill didn’t see how that was possible. Jordan wouldn’t understand. Not only that, he was cynical and scornful. The man who placed power and profit above all else would laugh at something as absurd as the story about the wedding dress.

She drew in an unsteady breath. “There’s nothing I can say.”

“Was my kiss so repugnant to you?” It didn’t appear that he was going to graciously drop the matter, not when his male ego was on the line.

Forcing her voice to sound carefree, Jill placed a hand on his shoulder and looked him square in the eye. “I’d think a man of your experience would be accustomed to having women crumple at his feet.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” His habitual frown snapped into place.

“I’m not,” she said. Best to keep Jordan in the dark, otherwise he might misread her intentions. Besides, he wouldn’t be any more enthusiastic about a romance between them than she was. “The kiss was very nice,” she admitted grudgingly.

“And that’s bad?” He rubbed a frustrated hand along his blunt, determined-looking jaw. “Perhaps you’ll feel better once you’re back in your room.”

Jill nodded eagerly. “Thank you. For dinner,” she added, remembering her manners.

“Thank you for joining me. It was … a pleasure meeting you.”

“You, too.”

“I probably won’t see you again.”

“That’s right,” she agreed resolutely. No reason to tempt fate. She was beginning to like him and that could be dangerous. “You’ll be gone in a couple of days, won’t you? I’m here for the week.” She retreated a couple of steps. “Have a safe trip home, and don’t work too hard.”

They parted then, but before she walked into the hotel, Jill turned back to see Jordan strolling in the opposite direction, away from her.

* * *

Jill awoke late the following morning. It was rare for her to sleep past eight-thirty, even on weekends. The tour bus wasn’t scheduled to leave the hotel until ten, so she took her time showering and dressing. Breakfast consisted of coffee, an English muffin and slices of fresh pineapple, which she ate leisurely on her lanai, savoring the morning sunlight.

* * *

Out of curiosity, she glanced over at Jordan’s room to see if the drapes were open. They were. From what she could discern, he was sitting at a table near the window, talking on his phone and working with his computer.

Business. Business. Business.

The man lived and breathed it, just like her father had. And, in the end, it had killed him.

Dismissing Jordan from her thoughts, she collected her purse and hurried down to the lobby, where she was meeting the tour group.

The sightseeing expedition proved excellent. Jill visited Pearl Harbor and the U.S.S. Arizona memorial and a huge shopping mall, returning to the hotel by three o’clock.

Her room was cool and inviting. Jill took a few minutes to examine the souvenirs she’d purchased, a shell lei and several colorful T-shirts. Then, with a good portion of the day still left to enjoy, she decided to spend the remaining afternoon hours lazing around the pool. Once again she glanced over at Jordan’s room, her action almost involuntary. And once again she saw that he was on the phone. Jill wondered if he’d been talking since morning.

Changing into her bathing suit, a modest one-piece in a—what else—Hawaiian print, she carried her beach bag, complete with three different kinds of sunscreen, down to the swimming pool. With a large straw hat perched on her head and sunglasses protecting her eyes, she stretched out on a chaise longue to absorb the sun.

She hadn’t been there more than fifteen minutes when a waiter approached carrying a dome-covered platter and a glass of champagne. “Ms. Morrison?”

“Yes?” Jill sat up abruptly, knocking her hat askew. “I … I didn’t order anything,” she said uncertainly as she reached up to straighten her hat.

“This was sent compliments of Mr. Wilcox.”

“Oh.” Jill wasn’t sure what to say. She twisted around and, shading her eyes with her hand, looked up. Jordan was standing on his lanai. She waved, and he returned the gesture.

“If that will be all?” the waiter murmured, stepping away.

“Yes … Oh, just a moment.” Jill scrambled in her beach bag for a tip, which she handed to the young man. He smiled his appreciation.

Curious, she balanced the glass of champagne as she lifted the lid—and nearly laughed out loud. Inside was a large array of crackers topped with caviar. She glanced up at Jordan a second time and blew him a kiss.

Something must have distracted him then. He turned away, and when Jill saw him again a few minutes later, he was pacing the lanai, phone in hand. She was convinced he’d completely forgotten about her. It was ironic, she mused, and really rather sad; here he was in paradise and he’d hardly ventured beyond his hotel room.

Jill drank her champagne and savored a few of the caviar-laden crackers, then decided she couldn’t stand his attitude a minute longer. Packing up her things, she looped the towel around her neck and picked up the platter in one hand, her beach bag in the other. After that, she headed back inside the hotel. She knew she was breaking her promise to herself by seeking him out, but she couldn’t stop herself.

Muttering under her breath, she took the elevator up to Jordan’s floor, calculated which room was his and knocked boldly on the door.

A long moment passed before the door finally opened. Jordan, still talking on his phone, gestured her inside. He didn’t so much as pause in his conversation, tossing dollar figures around as casually as other people talked about the weather.

Jill sat on the edge of his bed and crossed her legs, swinging her foot impatiently as Jordan strode back and forth across the carpet, seemingly oblivious to her presence.

“Listen, Rick, something’s come up,” he said, darting a look in her direction. “Give me a call in five minutes. Sure, sure, no problem. Five minutes. See if you can contact Raymond, get these numbers to him and call me back.” He disconnected the line without a word of farewell, then glanced at Jill.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi,” she returned, holding out the platter to offer him an hors d’oeuvre.

“No, thanks.”

She took one herself and chewed it slowly. She could almost feel his irritation.

“Something I can do for you?”

“Yes,” she stated calmly. “Sit down a minute.”

“Sit down?”

She nodded, motioning toward the table. “I have a story to tell you.”

“A story?” He didn’t seem particularly charmed by the idea.

“Yes, and I promise it won’t take longer than five minutes,” she added pointedly.

He was obviously relieved that she intended to keep this short. “Go on.”

“As I’ve mentioned before, I don’t know a lot about the world of high finance. But I’m well aware that time has skyrocketed in value. I also realize that the value of any commodity depends on its availability.”

“Does this story have a point?”

“Actually I haven’t got to the story yet, but I will soon,” she announced cheerfully.

“Can you do it in—” he paused to check his watch “—two and a half minutes?”

“I’ll hurry,” she promised, and drew a deep breath. “I was nine when my mother signed me up for piano lessons. I could hardly wait. The other kids dreaded having to practice, but not me. From the time I was in kindergarten, I loved to pound away at the old upright in our living room. My heart and soul went into making music. It was probably no coincidence that one of the first pieces I learned was ‘Heart and Soul.’ I hammered out those notes like machine-gun blasts. I overemphasized each crescendo, cherished each lingering note. Van Cliburn couldn’t have finished a piece with more pizzazz than I did. My hands would fly into the air, then flutter gently to my lap.”

“I noticed you standing by the piano at the dinner party. Are you a musician?”

“Nope. For all my theatrical talents, I had one serious shortcoming. I could never master the caesura—the rest.”

“The rest?”

“You know, that little zigzag thingamajig on sheet music that instructs the player to do nothing.”

“Nothing,” he repeated slowly.

“My impatience was a disappointment to my mother. I’m sure I frustrated my piano teacher no end. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t make me understand that music was always sweeter and more compelling after a rest.”

“I see.” His hands were buried deep in his pockets as he studied her.

If Jordan was as much like her father as she suspected, she doubted he really did understand. But she’d told him what she’d come to say. Mission accomplished. There wasn’t any other reason to stay, so she got briskly to her feet and scooped up her beach bag.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. Thank you for the caviar. It was a delightful surprise.” With that she moved toward the door. “Just remember what I said about the rest,” she said, glancing over her shoulder.

The phone pealed sharply and Jill grimaced. “Goodbye,” she mouthed, grasping the doorknob.

The phone rang again. “Goodbye.” Jordan hesitated. “Jill?”

“Yes?” The way he said her name seemed so urgent. She whirled around, hope surging in her heart. Perhaps he didn’t intend to answer the phone!

It rang a third time, and Jordan’s eyes, dark gray, smoky with indecision, traveled from Jill to the telephone.

“Yes?” she repeated.

“Nothing,” he said harshly, reaching for the phone. “Thanks for the story.”

“You’re welcome.” With nothing left to say, Jill walked out of his room and closed the door. Even before the lock slid into place she heard Jordan rhyming off lists of figures.

Her room felt less welcoming than when she’d returned earlier. Jill slipped out of her swimsuit and showered. She was vain enough to check her reflection in the mirror, hoping to have enhanced the slight tan she’d managed to achieve between Seattle’s infamous June cloudbursts. It didn’t look as though her sojourn in the tropics had done anything but add a not-so-fetching touch of pink across her shoulders.

She dressed in a thick terry robe supplied by the hotel and had just wrapped a towel around her wet hair when her phone rang.

“Hello,” she said breathlessly, sinking onto her bed. Her stomach knotted with anticipation.

“Jill Morrison?”

“Yes.” It wasn’t Jordan. But the voice sounded vaguely familiar, although she couldn’t immediately place it.

“Andrew Howard. I sat next to you at the dinner party last night.”

“Yes, of course.” Her voice rose with pleasure. She’d thoroughly enjoyed her chat with the older man. “How are you?”

He chuckled. “I’m fine. I tried to phone earlier, but you were out and I didn’t leave a message.”

“I went on a tour this morning.”

“Ah, that explains it. I realize it’s rather short notice, but are you free for dinner tonight?”

Jill didn’t hesitate. “Yes, I am.”

“Good, good. Could you join me around eight?”

“Eight would be perfect.” Normally Jill dined much earlier, but she wasn’t hungry yet, thanks to an expensive snack, compliments of Jordan Wilcox.

“Wonderful.” Mr. Howard seemed genuinely pleased. “I’ll have a car waiting for you and Wilcox out front at seven-thirty.”

And Wilcox. She’d almost missed the words. So Jordan had accepted Mr. Howard’s invitation. Perhaps she’d been too critical; perhaps he’d understood the point of her story, after all, and was willing to put business aside for one evening. Perhaps he was as eager to spend time with her as she was with him.

* * *

“I wondered if you’d be here,” Jordan announced when they met in the lobby at the appointed time. He didn’t exactly greet her with open enthusiasm, but Jill comforted herself with the observation that Jordan wasn’t one to reveal his emotions.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he added. That was when she remembered he was hoping to interest the older man in his shopping-mall project. Dinner, for Jordan, would be a golden opportunity to conduct business, elicit Mr. Howard’s support and gain the financial backing he needed for the project.

Jill couldn’t help feeling disappointed. “I’ll do my best not to interrupt your sales pitch,” she said sarcastically.

“My sales pitch?” he echoed, then grinned, apparently amused by her assumption. “You don’t have to worry. Howard doesn’t want in on this project, which is fine. He just likes to keep tabs on me, especially since Dad died. He seems to think I need a mentor, or at least some kind of paternal adviser.”

“Do you?”

Jordan shrugged. “There’ve been one or two occasions when I’ve appreciated his wisdom. I don’t need him holding my hand, but I have sometimes looked to him for advice.”

Remembering her dinner conversation with the older man, Jill said, “In some ways, Mr. Howard must think of you as a son.”

“I doubt that.” Jordan scowled. “I’ve known him all this time and not once did he ever mention he’d lost a son.”

“It was almost thirty years ago, and as I told you, it’s the reason his company’s done so much cancer research. Howard Pharmaceuticals makes several of the leading cancer-fighting drugs.” When Andrew Howard had told her about his son’s death, a tear had come to his eye. Although Jeff Howard had succumbed to childhood leukemia a long time ago, his father still grieved. Andrew had become a widower a few years later, and he’d never fully recovered from the double blow. Jill was deeply touched by his story. During their conversation, she’d shared a little of the pain she’d felt at her own father’s death, something she rarely did, even with her mother or her closest friend.

“What shocks me,” Jordan continued, “is that I’ve worked on different projects with him over the years. We’ve also kept in touch socially. And not once, not once, did he mention a son.”

“Perhaps there was never a reason.”

Jordan dismissed that idea with a shake of his head.

“Mr. Howard’s a sweet man. I really like him,” Jill asserted.

“Sweet? Andrew Howard?” Jordan grinned, his eyes bright with humor. “I’ve known alligators with more agreeable personalities.”

“Apparently there’s more to your friend than you realized.”

“My friend,” Jordan repeated. “Funny, I’d always thought of him as my father’s friend, not mine. But you’re right—he is my friend and— Oh, here’s the car.” With a hand on her arm, he escorted her outside.

A tall, uniformed driver stepped from the long white limousine. “Ms. Morrison and Mr. Wilcox?” he asked crisply.

Jordan nodded, and the chauffeur ceremoniously opened the back door for them. Soon they were heading out of the city toward the island’s opposite coast.

“Do you still play the piano?” Jordan asked unexpectedly.

“Every so often, when the mood strikes me,” Jill told him a bit ruefully. “Not as much as I’d like.”

“I take it you still haven’t conquered the caesura?”

“Not yet, but I’m learning.” She wasn’t sure what had prompted his question, then decided to ask one of her own. “What about you? Do you think you might be interested in learning to play the piano?”

Jordan shook his head adamantly. “Unfortunately, I’ve never had much interest in that sort of thing.”

Jill sighed and looked away.

Nearly thirty minutes passed before they reached Andrew Howard’s ocean-side estate. Jill suspected it was the longest Jordan had gone without a business conversation since he’d registered at the hotel.

Her heart pounded as they approached the beautifully landscaped grounds. A security guard pushed a button that opened a huge wrought-iron gate. They drove down a private road, nearly a mile long and bordered on each side by rolling green lawns and tropical flower beds. At the end stood a sprawling stone house.

No sooner had the car stopped than Mr. Howard hurried out of the house, grinning broadly.

“Welcome, welcome!” He greeted them expansively, holding out his arms to Jill.

In a spontaneous display of affection, she hugged him and kissed his cheek. “Thank you so much for inviting us.”

“The pleasure’s all mine. Come inside. Everything’s ready and waiting.” After exchanging a hearty handshake with Jordan, Mr. Howard led the way into his home.

Jill had been impressed with the outside, but the beauty of the interior overwhelmed her. The entry was tiled in white marble and illuminated by a sparkling crystal chandelier. Huge crystal vases of vivid pink and purple hibiscus added color and life. From there, Mr. Howard escorted them into a massive living room with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the Pacific. Frothing waves crashed against the shore, bathed in the fire of an island sunset.

“This is so lovely,” Jill breathed in awe.

“I knew you’d appreciate it.” Mr. Howard reached for a bell, which he rang once. Almost immediately the housekeeper appeared, carrying a tray of glasses and bottles of white and red wine, sherry and assorted aperitifs.

They were sipping their drinks when the same woman reappeared. “Mr. Wilcox, there’s a phone call for you.”

It was all Jill could do not to gnash her teeth. The man was never free, the phone cord wrapped around his neck more tightly than a hangman’s noose.

“Excuse me, please,” Jordan said as he left the room, his step brisk.

Jill looked away, refusing to watch him go.

“How do you feel about that young man?” Mr. Howard asked bluntly when Jordan was gone.

“We met only recently. I—I don’t have any feelings for him one way or the other.”

“Well, then, what do you think of him?”

Jill stared down at her wine. “He works too hard.”

Sighing, the old man nodded and rubbed his eyes. “He reminds me of myself more than thirty years ago. Sometimes I’d like to take him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him, but I doubt it’d do much good. That boy’s too stubborn to listen. Unfortunately, he’s a lot like his father.”

Knowing so little of Jordan and his background, Jill was eager to learn what she could. At the same time, a saner part of her insisted she was better off not hearing this. The more she knew, the greater her chances of caring.

Nevertheless, Jill found herself asking curiously, “What made Jordan the way he is?”

“To begin with, his parents divorced when he was young. It was a sad situation.” Andrew leaned forward and clasped his wineglass with both hands. “It was plain as the nose on your face that James and Donna Wilcox were in love. But, somehow, bitterness replaced the love, and their son became a weapon they used against each other.”

“Oh, how sad.” Just as she’d feared, Jill felt herself sympathizing with Jordan.

“They both married other people, and Jordan seemed to remind his parents of their earlier unhappiness. He was sent to the best boarding schools, but there was precious little love in his life. Before he died, James tried to build a relationship with his son, but …” He shrugged. “And to the best of my knowledge his mother hasn’t seen him since he was a teenager. I’m afraid he’s had very little experience of real love, the kind that gives life meaning. Oh, there’ve been women, plenty of them, but never one who could teach him how to love and bring joy into his life—until now.” He paused and looked pointedly at Jill.

“As I said before, I’ve only known Jordan for a short time.”

“Be patient with him,” Mr. Howard continued, as though Jill hadn’t spoken. “Jordan’s talented, don’t get me wrong—the boy’s got a way of pulling a deal together that amazes just about everyone—but there are times when he seems to forget about human values, like compassion. And the ability to enjoy what you have.”

Jill wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Frankly, I was beginning to lose faith in him,” Mr. Howard said, grinning sheepishly. “He can be hard and unforgiving. You’ve given me the first ray of hope.”

Jill took a big swallow of wine.

“He needs you. Your warmth, your gentleness, your love.”

Jill wanted to weep with frustration. Andrew Howard was telling her exactly what she didn’t want to hear. “I think you’re mistaken,” she murmured.

He chuckled. “I doubt that, but I’m an old man, so indulge me, will you?”

“Of course, but—”

“There’s a reason you’ve come into his life,” he said, gazing intently at her. “A very important reason.” Andrew closed his eyes. “I feel this more profoundly than I’ve felt anything in a long while. He needs you, Jill.”

“No … I’m sure he doesn’t.” Jill realized she was beginning to sound desperate, but she couldn’t help it.

The old man’s eyes opened slowly and he smiled. “And I’m just as sure he does.” He would have continued, but Jordan returned to the room then.

From the marinated-shrimp appetizer to the homemade mango-and-pineapple ice cream, dinner was one of the most delectable, elegant meals Jill had ever tasted. They lingered over coffee, followed by a glass of smooth brandy. By the end of the evening, Jill felt mellow and warm, a dangerous sensation. Jordan had been wonderful company—witty, charming, fun. He seemed more relaxed, too. Apparently the phone call had brought good news; it was the only thing to which she could attribute his cheerfulness.

“I can’t thank you enough,” she told Andrew when the limousine arrived to drive her and Jordan back to the hotel. “It was a lovely evening.”

The older man hugged Jill and whispered close to her ear, “Remember what I said.” Breaking away, he extended his hand, gripping Jordan’s elbow. “It was good of you to come.”

“I’ll be in touch soon,” Jordan promised.

“I’ll look forward to hearing from you. Let me know what happens with this shopping-mall project.”

“I will,” Jordan said.

The car was cool and inviting in the warm night. Before she realized it, Jill found her head resting on Jordan’s broad shoulder. “Oh, sorry,” she mumbled through a yawn.

“Are you sleepy?”

She smiled softly to herself, too tired to fight the power of attraction—and exhaustion. “Maybe a little. Wine makes me sleepy.”

Jordan pressed her head against his shoulder and held her there. His hand gently stroked her hair. “Do you mind telling me what went on between you and Howard while I was on the phone?”

Jill went stock-still. “Uh, nothing. What makes you ask?” She decided it was best to pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Then why was Howard wearing a silly grin every time he looked at me?” Jordan demanded.

“I—I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him.” She tried to straighten, but Jordan wouldn’t allow it. After a moment she gave up, too relaxed to put up much of a struggle.

“I swear there was a twinkle in his eye from the moment I returned after my phone call. It was like I’d been left out of a joke.”

“I’m sure you’re wrong.”

Jordan seemed to ponder that. “I doubt it,” he said.

“Hmm.” She felt sleepy, and leaning against Jordan was strangely comforting.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said this afternoon,” he told her a few minutes later. His mouth was against her ear, and although she might have been mistaken, she thought his lips lightly brushed her cheek.

“My sad but true tale,” she whispered on the end of another yawn.

“About your trouble with the musical rest.”

“Ah, yes, the rest.”

“I’m flying back to Seattle tomorrow,” Jordan said abruptly.

Jill nodded, feeling inexplicably sad, then surprised by the intensity of her reaction. With Jordan in Seattle, they wouldn’t be bumping into each other at every turn. Wouldn’t be arguing, bantering—or kissing. With Jordan in Seattle, she wouldn’t confuse him with the legacy behind Aunt Milly’s dress. “Well … I hope you have a good flight.”

“I have a meeting Tuesday morning. It would be impossible to cancel at this late date, but I was able to change my flight.”

“You changed your flight?” Jill prayed he wouldn’t hear the breathless catch in her voice.

“I don’t have to be at the airport until evening.”

“When?” It shouldn’t make any difference to her, yet she found herself wanting to know. Needing to know.

“Eight.”

Jill was much too dazed to calculate the time difference, but she knew it meant he’d arrive in Seattle in the early morning. He’d be exhausted. Not exactly the best way to show up at a high-powered meeting.

“I was thinking,” Jordan continued. “I’ve been to Hawaii a number of times but other than meetings or dinner engagements, I haven’t seen much of the islands. I’ve never explored them.”

“That’s a pity,” she said, meaning it.

“And,” he went on, “it seemed to me that sightseeing wouldn’t be nearly as much fun alone.”

“I enjoyed myself this morning.” Her effort to refute him was feeble at best.

His fingers were entwined in her hair. “Will you come with me, Jill?” he asked, his voice a husky whisper. “Share the day with me. Let’s discover Hawaii together.”

Four

“I can’t” was Jill’s immediate response. She’d already lowered her guard—enough to be snuggling in his arms. So much for her resolve not to get involved with Jordan Wilcox, she thought with dismay. So much for steering a wide course around the man.

“Why not?” Jordan asked with the directness she’d come to expect from him.

“I’ve … m-made plans,” she stammered. Even now, she could feel herself weakening. With his arm around her and her head nestled against his shoulder it was difficult to refuse him.

“Cancel them.”

How arrogant of him to assume she should abandon her plans because the almighty businessman was willing to grant her some of his valuable time.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” she answered coolly, her determination reinforced. She’d already paid for the rental car as part of her vacation package, she rationalized, and she wasn’t about to let that money go to waste.

“Why not?” He sounded surprised.

Isn’t being with him what you really want? The question stole into her mind, and Jill wanted to scream out her response. A resounding NO. Jordan Wilcox frightened her. It was all too easy to envision them together, strolling hand in hand along sun-drenched beaches. He’d kissed her that first time, that only time, on the beach, and the memory stubbornly refused to go away.

“Jill?”

At the softness in his voice, she involuntarily raised her eyes to his. Jill hadn’t expected to see tenderness in Jordan, but she did now, and it was nearly her undoing. Her feelings for him were changing, and she found herself more strongly attracted than ever. She remembered when she’d first seen him, the way she’d been convinced there was nothing gentle in him. He’d seemed so hard, so untouchable. Yet, right now, at this very moment, he’d made himself vulnerable to her. For her.

“You’re trembling,” he said, running his hands down her arms. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she denied quickly, breathlessly. “I’m … a little tired. It’s been a long day.”

“That’s what you said last night when I kissed you. Remember? You started mumbling some nonsense about a dress, then you went stiff as a board on me.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she insisted, breaking away from him. She straightened and lowered her hand to her skirt, smoothing away imaginary creases.

“I don’t buy that, Jill. Something’s bothering you.”

She wished he hadn’t mentioned the dress, because it brought to mind, uninvited and unwanted, Aunt Milly’s wedding dress, which was hanging in her hotel-room closet.

“You’d be shaking, too, if you knew the things I did,” she exclaimed, instantly regretting the impulse.

“What are you afraid of?”

She stared out the window, then slowly her lower lip began to quiver with the effort to restrain her laughter. She was actually frightened of a silly dress! She wasn’t afraid to fall in love; she just didn’t want it to be with Jordan.

“For a woman who drags a wedding dress on vacation with her, you’re not doing very much to encourage romance.”

“I did not bring that dress with me!”

“It was in the room when you arrived? Someone left it behind?”

“Not exactly. Shelly did. She, uh, enjoys a good laugh. She mailed it to me.”

“It never occurred to me that you might be engaged,” he said slowly. “You’re not, are you?”

“No.” But according to her friend, she soon would be.

“Who’s Shelly?”

“My best friend,” Jill explained, “or at least she used to be.” Then, impulsively, her heart racing, she added, “Listen, Jordan, I think you have a lot of potential in the husband category, but I can’t fall in love with you. I just can’t.”

A stunned silence followed her announcement.

He cocked his eyebrows. “Aren’t you taking a bit too much for granted here? I asked you to explore the island with me, not bear my children.”

She’d done it again, blurted out something totally illogical. Worse, she couldn’t make herself stop. Children were a subject near and dear to her heart.

“That’s another thing,” she wailed. “I bet you don’t even like children. No, I can’t go with you tomorrow. Please don’t ask me to … because it’s so hard to say no.” It must be the wine, Jill decided; she was saying far more than she should.

Jordan relaxed against the leather upholstery and crossed his long legs. “All right, if you’d rather not go, I’m certainly not going to force you.”

His easy acceptance astonished her. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, feeling almost disappointed that he wasn’t trying to persuade her.

Something was drastically, dangerously wrong with her. She was beginning to like Jordan, really like him. Yet she couldn’t allow this attraction to continue. She couldn’t allow herself to fall in love with a man so much like her father. Because she knew what that meant, what kind of life it led to, what kind of unhappiness it caused.

When the limousine stopped in front of the hotel, it was all Jill could do to wait for the chauffeur to climb out of the driver’s seat, walk around the car and open the door for her.

She hurried inside the lobby, needing to breathe in the fresh air of reason. Wait for sanity to catch up with her heart.

She reached the elevators and pushed the button, holding her thumb in place, hoping that would hurry it along.

“Next time, keep your little anecdotes to yourself,” Jordan said sharply from behind her. Then he walked leisurely across the lobby.

Keep her little anecdotes to herself? The temptation to rush after him and demand an explanation was strong, but Jill made herself resist it.

Not until she was in the elevator did she understand. This entire discussion had arisen because she’d told him her story about the caesura and her lack of musical talent. And now he was turning her own disclosure against her! Righteous anger began to build in her heart.

But by the time Jill was in her room and ready for bed, she felt wretched. Jordan had asked her to spend a day with him, and she’d reacted as if he’d insulted her.

The way she’d gone on and on about his potential as a husband was bad enough, but then she’d dragged the subject of children into their conversation. That mortified her even more. The wine could be blamed for only so much.

She cringed, too, as she recalled what Andrew Howard had said, the faith he’d placed in her. Jordan needed her, he’d said, apparently convinced that Jordan would never experience love if she didn’t teach him. She hated disappointing Andrew, and yet … and yet …

It didn’t surprise Jill that she slept poorly. By morning she wasn’t feeling any enthusiasm at all about picking up her rental car or sightseeing on the north shore.

She reviewed the room-service menu, ordered coffee and toast, then stared at the phone for several minutes before conceding there was one thing she still had to do. Anxious to get it over with, Jill rang through to Jordan’s room.

“Hello,” he answered gruffly on the first ring. He was definitely a man who never ventured far from his phone.

“Hello,” she said with uncharacteristic meekness. “I’m … calling to apologize.”

“Are you sorry enough to change your mind and spend the day with me?”

Jill hesitated. “I’ve already paid for a rental car.”

“Great, then I won’t need to get one.”

Jill closed her eyes. She knew what she was going to say, had known it the night before. In the same heartbeat, she realized she’d regret it later. “Yes,” she whispered. “If you still want me to join you, I’ll meet you in the lobby in half an hour.”

“Twenty minutes.”

She groaned. “Fine, twenty minutes, then.”

Despite her misgivings, Jill’s spirits lifted immediately. “One day won’t hurt anything,” she said out loud. What could possibly happen in so short a time? Certainly nothing earth-shattering. Nothing of consequence.

Who was she kidding? Not herself, Jill admitted.

She thought she understood why moths ventured close to the fire, enticed by the light and the warmth. Against her will, Jordan was drawing her dangerously close. She knew even as she came nearer that she was going to get burned. And yet she didn’t walk away.

He was waiting for her when she stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby. He stood there grinning, his look almost boyish. This was the first time she’d seen him without a business suit. Instead, he wore white slacks and a pale blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

“You ready?” he asked, taking her beach bag from her.

“One question.” Her heart was pounding because she had no right to ask.

“Sure.” His eyes held hers.

“Your cell phone—do you have it?”

Jordan nodded and pulled a tiny phone from his shirt pocket.

Jill stared at it for a moment, feeling the tension work its way down her back. Jordan’s cell phone reminded her of the pager her father had always carried. Always. All family outings, which were few and far between, had been subject to outside interference. Early in life, Jill had received a clear message: business was more important to her father than she was. In fact, almost everything had seemed more significant than spending time with the people who loved him.

Jordan must have read the look in her eyes because he said, “I’ll leave it in my room,” and then promptly strolled to the elevator. Stunned, Jill watched as he stepped inside. Bit by bit, her muscles began to relax.

While he was gone, Jill filled out the paperwork for the rental car. She was waiting outside by the economy model when Jordan appeared. He paused, staring at it with narrowed eyes as if he wasn’t sure the car would make it to the end of the street, let alone around the island.

“I’m on a limited budget,” Jill explained, hiding a smile. The car suited her petite frame perfectly, but for a man of Jordan’s stature it was like … like stuffing a rag doll inside a pickle jar, Jill thought, enjoying the whimsical comparison.

“You’re positive this thing runs?” he muttered under his breath as he climbed into the driver’s seat. His long legs were cramped below the steering wheel, his head practically touching the roof.

Jill nodded. She remembered reading that this particular model got exceptionally good gas mileage—but then it should, with an engine only a little bigger than a lawnmower’s.

To prove her right, the car roared to life with a flick of the key.

“Where are we going?” Jill asked once they’d merged with the flow of traffic on the busy thoroughfare by the hotel.

“The airport.”

“The airport?” she repeated, struggling to hide her disappointment. “I thought your flight didn’t leave until eight.”

“Mine doesn’t, but ours takes off in half an hour.”

“Ours?” What about the sugarcane fields and watching the workers harvest pineapple? Surely he didn’t intend for them to miss that. “Where is this plane taking us?”

“Hawaii,” he announced casually. “The island of. Do you know how to scuba dive?”

“No.” Her voice was oddly breathless and high-pitched. She might have spent the past twenty-odd years in Seattle—practically surrounded by water—but she wasn’t all that comfortable under it.

“How about snorkeling?”

“Ah …” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “There are pineapple fields on the other side of this island. I assumed you’d want to see those.”

“Another visit, perhaps. I’d like to try my hand at marlin fishing, too, but we don’t have enough time today.”

“Snorkeling,” Jill said as though she’d never heard the word before. “Well … it might be fun.” In her guidebook Jill remembered reading about green beaches of crushed olivine crystals and black sands of soft lava. These were sights she couldn’t expect to find anywhere else. However, she wasn’t sure she wanted to view them through a rubber mask.

A small private plane was ready for them when they arrived at Honolulu Airport. The pilot, who apparently knew Jordan, greeted them cordially. After brief introductions and a few minutes’ chat, they were on their way.

Another car, considerably larger than the one Jill had rented, was waiting for them on the island of Hawaii. A large, white wicker picnic basket sat in the middle of the backseat.

“I hope you’re hungry.”

“Not yet.”

“You will be,” Jordan promised.

He drove for half an hour or so, until they reached a deserted inlet with a magnificent waterfall. He parked the car, then got out and opened the trunk. Inside was everything they’d need for snorkeling in the crystal-clear aquamarine waters.

Never having done this before, Jill was uncertain of the procedure. Jordan patiently answered her questions and waded into the water with her. He paused when they were waist-deep, gave her detailed instructions, then clasped her hand. His touch lent her confidence, and soon she was investigating an undersea world of breathtaking beauty. Swimming out of the inlet, they came upon a reef, with colorful fish slipping in and out of white coral caverns. After what seemed like only minutes, Jordan steered them back toward the inlet and shore.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful,” she breathed, pushing the mask from her face.

“I don’t think I have, either,” he agreed as they emerged from the water.

While Jill ran a comb through her hair and put on a shirt to protect her shoulders from the sun, Jordan brought out their lunch.

He spread the blanket in the shade of a palm tree. Jill knelt down beside him and opened the basket. Inside were generous crab-salad sandwiches, fresh slices of papaya and pineapple and thick chocolate-chip cookies. She removed two cold cans of soda and handed one to Jordan.

They ate, then napped with a cool, gentle breeze whisking over them.

Jill awoke before Jordan. He was asleep on his back with his hand thrown carelessly across his face, shading his eyes from the glare of the sun. His features were more relaxed than she’d ever seen them. Jill studied him for several minutes, her heart aching for the man she’d loved so long ago. Her father. The man she’d never really had a chance to know. In some ways, Jordan was so much like her father it pained her to be with him, and at the same time it thrilled her. Not only because in learning about Jordan she was discovering a part of her past, of herself, but because she’d rarely felt so alive in anyone’s company.

As she recognized this truth, a heaviness settled over her. She didn’t want to fall in love with him. She was so afraid her life would mirror her mother’s. Elaine Morrison had grown embittered. She’d been a young woman when her husband died, but she’d never remarried; instead she’d closed herself off, not wanting to risk the kind of pain that loving Jill’s father had brought her.

Sitting up, Jill shoved her now-dry hair away from her face. She wrapped her arms around her bent legs and pressed her forehead to her knees, gulping in breath after breath.

“Jill?” His voice was soft. Husky.

“You shouldn’t have left your pager behind, after all,” she told him, her voice tight. “Or your phone.” Without them, he was a handsome, compelling man who appealed to all her senses. Without them, she was defenseless against his charm.

“Why not?”

“Because I like you too much.”

“That’s a problem?”

“Yes!” she cried. “Don’t you understand?”

“Obviously not,” he said with such tenderness she wanted to jump to her feet and yell at him to stop. “Maybe you’d better explain it to me,” he added.

“I can’t,” she whispered, keeping her head lowered. “You’d never believe me. I don’t blame you—I wouldn’t believe me, either.”

Jordan frowned. “Does this have something to do with your reaction the first time I kissed you?”

“The only time!”

“That’s about to change.”

Her head shot up at the casual way in which he said it, as though kissing her was a foregone conclusion.

He was right.

His kiss was gentle. Jill resisted, unwilling to give him her heart, knowing what became of women who loved men like this. Men like Jordan Wilcox.

Their kiss now was much more potent than that first night. His touch somehow transcended the sensual. Jill could think of no other words to describe it. His fingers brushed her temple. His lips moved across her face, grazing her chin, her cheek, her eyes. She moaned, not from pleasure, but from fear, from a pain that reached deep inside her.

“Oh, no …”

“It’s happening again, isn’t it?” he whispered.

She nodded. “Can you feel it?”

“Yes. I did the other time, too.”

Her eyes drifted slowly open. “I can’t love you.”

“So you’ve told me. More than once.”

“It isn’t personal.” She tried to break free without being obvious about it, but Jordan held her firmly in his embrace.

“Tell me what’s upsetting you so much.”

“I can’t.” Looking into the distance, she focused on the smoky-blue outline of a mountain. Anything to avoid gazing at Jordan.

“You’re involved with someone else, aren’t you?”

It would be so easy to lie to him. To tell him about Ralph as though the friendship they shared was one of blazing passion, but she found she couldn’t do it.

“No,” she wailed, “but I wish I was.”

“Why?” he demanded gruffly.

“What about you?” she countered. “Why did you seek out my company? Why’d you ask me to attend the dinner party with you? Surely there was someone else, someone more suitable.”

“I’ll admit that kissing you is a … unique experience,” he confessed.

“But I’ve been rude.”

“Actually, more amusing than rude.”

“But why?” she asked again. “What is it about me that interests you? We’re about as different as two people can get. We’re strangers—strangers with nothing in common.”

Jordan was frowning, his eyes revealing his own lack of understanding. “I don’t know.”

“See what I mean?” She spoke as if it were the jury’s final decree. “The whole thing is a farce. You kiss me and … and I feel a certain … feeling.”

“So do I. And it’s something I can’t explain. But I’ve seen electrical storms that unleash less energy than we did when we kissed.”

Suddenly Jill found it nearly impossible to breathe. Jordan couldn’t be affected by the wedding dress and its so-called magic—could he? Jill swore the minute she arrived in Seattle she was returning it to Shelly and Mark. She wasn’t taking any chances.

“You remind me of my father,” Jill said, refusing to meet his eyes. Even talking about Adam Morrison was painful to her. “He was always in a hurry to get somewhere, to meet someone, to make a deal. We took a family vacation when I was ten. My dad, my mom and me. We saw California in one day, Disneyland in an hour. Do you get the picture?” She didn’t wait for a response. “He died of a heart attack when I was fifteen. We were wealthy by a lot of people’s standards, and after his death my mother didn’t have to work. We had no financial worries at all. And yet we would’ve been happier with far less money if it meant my father was still alive.”

An awkward moment passed. When Jordan didn’t comment, Jill glanced at him. “You don’t have anything to say?”

“Not really, other than to point out that I’m not your father.”

“But you’re exactly like him! I recognized it the first minute I saw you.” She leaped to her feet, grabbed her towel and crammed it into her beach bag.

Jordan reluctantly stood, and while she shook the sand off the blanket and folded it, he loaded their snorkeling gear into the trunk of the car.

They were both quiet during the drive back to the airport, the silence strained and unnatural. A couple of times, Jill looked in Jordan’s direction. The hardness was back. The tightness in his jaw, the harsh, almost grim expression …

Jill could well imagine what he’d be like in a board meeting. No wonder he didn’t seem too concerned about the threat of a takeover. He would withstand that, and a whole lot more, in the years to come. But at what price? Power demanded sacrifice; prestige didn’t come cheap. There was a cost, and Jill could only speculate what it would be for Jordan. His health? His happiness?

She found it intolerable to think about. Words burned in her heart. Words of caution. Words of appeal, but he wouldn’t listen to her any more than her father had heeded her mother’s tearful pleas.

As the airport came into view, Jill knew she couldn’t let their day end on such an unhappy note. “I did have a wonderful time. Thank you.”

“Mmm,” he replied, his gaze focused on the road ahead.

Jill stared at him. “That’s it?”

“What else do you want me to say?” His voice was crisp and emotionless.

“Like, I don’t know, that you enjoyed yourself, too.”

“It was interesting.”

“Interesting?” Jill repeated.

They’d had a marvelous adventure! Not only that, he’d actually relaxed. The lines of fatigue around his eyes were gone. She’d bet a month’s wages that this was the first afternoon nap he’d had in years. Possibly decades. It was probably the longest stretch of time he’d been away from a telephone in his adult life.

And all he’d say was that their day had been “interesting”?

“What about the kissing?” she demanded. “Was that interesting?”

“Very.”

Jill seethed silently. “It was … interesting for me, too.”

“So you said.”

Jill tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear. “I was only being honest with you.”

“I admit it was a fresh approach. Do you generally discuss marriage and children with a man on a first date?”

Color exploded in her cheeks, and she looked uncomfortably away. “No, but you were different … and it wasn’t an approach.”

“Excuse me, that’s right, you were being honest.” The cold sarcasm in his voice kept her from even trying to explain.

They’d almost reached the airport when she spoke again. “Would you do me one small favor?” She nearly choked on the pride she had to swallow.

“What?”

“Would you … The next time you see Mr. Howard, would you tell him something for me? Would you tell him I’m sorry?” He’d be disappointed in her, but Jill couldn’t risk her own happiness because a dear man with a romantic heart believed she was Jordan Wilcox’s one chance at finding love.

Jordan stopped the car abruptly and turned to glare at her. “You want me to apologize to Howard?”

“Please.”

“Sorry,” he said without a pause. “You’ll have to do that yourself.”

Five

Four days later, Jill stepped off the plane at Sea-Tac Airport in Seattle. Her skin glowed with a golden tan, accentuated by the bold pink flower print of her new sundress. She hadn’t expected anyone to meet her, but was pleasantly surprised to see Shelly and Mark. Shelly waved excitedly when she located Jill in the baggage claim area.

“Welcome home,” Shelly said as she rushed forward, exuberantly throwing her arms around Jill. “How was Hawaii? My goodness, your tan is gorgeous. You must’ve spent hours in the sun.”

“Hawaii was wonderful.” A slight exaggeration. She’d hardly slept since Jordan’s departure.

“Tell me everything,” Shelly insisted, taking Jill’s hands. “I’m dying to find out who you met after we mailed you the wedding dress.”

“Honey,” Mark chided gently, “give her a chance to breathe.”

“Are you with someone?” Shelly asked, looking around expectantly. “I mean, you know, you’re not married, are you?”

“I’m not even close to being married,” Jill informed her friend dryly.

Mark took charge of the beach bag Jill had brought home with her, stuffed full of souvenirs and everything she couldn’t fit into her suitcase. She removed one of the three leis she was wearing and looped it around Shelly’s neck. “Here, my gift to you.”

“Oh, Jill, it’s beautiful. Thank you,” Shelly said, fingering the fragrant lei of pink orchids. As they walked toward the appropriate carousel, Shelly slipped her arm through Jill’s. “I can’t wait a second longer. Tell me what happened after the dress arrived. I want to hear every detail.”

Jill had been dreading this moment, but she hadn’t thought she’d face it quite so soon. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to return the dress.”

Shelly stared at her as if she hadn’t heard correctly. “Pardon?”

“I didn’t meet anyone.”

“You mean to tell me you spent seven days in Hawaii and you didn’t speak to a single man?” Shelly asked incredulously.

“Not exactly.”

“Aha! So there was someone.”

Jill tried not to groan. “Sort of.”

Shelly smiled, sliding one arm around her husband’s waist. “The plot thickens.”

“I met him briefly the first day. Actually I don’t think he counts….”

“Why wouldn’t he count?” Shelly asked.

“We sat next to each other on the plane, so technically we met before I got the wedding dress. I’m sure he’s not the one.” Jill had decided to play along with her friend’s theory, pretend to take it more seriously than she did. Logical objections, like this mistake in timing, should convince Shelly—but probably wouldn’t.

“In fact,” she continued, “I’ve been thinking about that dress lately, and I’m convinced you and your aunt Milly are wrong—it’s not for me. It never was.”

“But it fit you. Remember?”

Jill didn’t need to be reminded. “That was a fluke. I’m sure if I were to try it on now, it wouldn’t.”

“Then try it on! Prove me wrong.”

“Here?” Jill laughed.

“When you get home. Right now, just tell me about this guy you met. You keep trying to avoid the subject.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Jill insisted, sorry she’d said anything. She’d tried for the past few days to push every thought of Jordan from her mind, with little success. He’d haunted her remaining time on the islands, refusing to leave her alone. If she did sleep, he invaded her dreams.

“Start with his name,” Shelly said. “Surely you know his name.”

“Jordan Wilcox, but—”

“Jordan Wilcox,” Mark repeated. “He doesn’t happen to be a developer, does he?”

“He does something along those lines.”

Mark released a low whistle. “He’s one of the big boys.”

“Big boys,” Shelly echoed disparagingly. “Be more specific. Do you mean he’s tall?”

“No.” Mark’s smiling eyes briefly met Jill’s. “Although he is. I mean he’s a well-known corporate giant. I’ve met him a few times. If I understand it correctly, he puts together commercial projects, finds backers for them, works with the designer and the builders, and when the project’s complete, he sells. He’s made millions in the last few years.”

“He was in Hawaii to put together financial backing for a shopping mall,” Jill explained.

“Well,” Shelly said, eyeing her closely, “what did you think of him?”

“What was there to think? I sat next to him on the plane and we stayed in the same hotel, but that was about it.” It was best not to mention the other incidents; Shelly would put far too much stock in a couple of dinners and a day on the beach. Heaven help Jill if Shelly ever found out they’d exchanged a few kisses!

“I’m sure he’s the one,” Shelly announced gleefully. Her eyes fairly sparkled with delight. “I can feel it. He’s our man.”

“No, he isn’t,” Jill argued, knowing it was futile, yet compelled to try. “I already told you—I met him before the dress arrived. Besides, we have absolutely nothing in common.”

“Do Mark and I?” Shelly glanced lovingly at her husband. “And I’m crazy about him.”

At first, Jill had wondered what Mark, a tax consultant with orderly habits and a closetful of suits, could possibly have in common with her zany, creative, unconventional friend. The answer was simple. Nothing. But that hadn’t stopped them from falling in love. Jill couldn’t be in the same room with them without sensing the powerful attraction they felt for each other.

However, there was little similarity between Shelly’s marriage to Mark and Jill’s relationship with Jordan. What she’d learned from her father’s life—and death—was the value of balance. Although her career mattered to her, it didn’t define her life or occupy every minute of her time.

“In this case I think Jill might be right,” Mark said, his voice thoughtful.

“He’s the one,” Shelly said for the second time.

“I’ve met him,” Mark went on to say. “He’s cold and unemotional. If he does have a heart, it was frozen a long time ago.”

“So?” Ever optimistic, Shelly refused to listen. “Jill’s perfect for him, then. She’s warm and gentle and caring.”

At the moment Jill didn’t feel any of those things. Listening to Mark describe Jordan, she had to fight the urge to defend him, to tell them what Andrew Howard had told her. Yes, Jordan was everything Mark said, but there was another side to him, one Jill had briefly encountered. One that was so appealing it had frightened her into running away, which was exactly what she’d done that day on the beach. He’d kissed her and she’d known immediately, intuitively, that she’d never be the same. But knowing it didn’t alter her resolve. She couldn’t love him because the price would be too high. He would give her all the things she craved, but eventually she’d end up like her mother, lonely and bitter.

“I just can’t imagine Jordan Wilcox married,” Mark concluded.

“I can,” Shelly interrupted with unflinching enthusiasm. “To Jill.”

“Shelly,” Mark said, grinning indulgently, “listen to reason.”

“When has falling in love ever been reasonable?” She fired the question at her husband, who merely shrugged, then turned back to Jill. “Did you tell him about Aunt Milly’s wedding dress?”

“Good heavens, no!”

“All the better. I’ll bet you really threw the guy for a loop. Was he on this flight?”

“No, he returned four days ago.”

“Four days ago?” Shelly asked suspiciously. “There’s something you’re not telling us. Come on, Jill, fess up. You did a whole lot more than sit next to him on the plane. And Mark and I want to know what.”

“Uh …” Jill was tired from the flight and her resistance was low. Under normal circumstances she would’ve sidestepped the issue. “It isn’t like it sounds,” she said weakly. “We talked, that’s all.”

“Did you kiss?” The question came out in a soft whisper. “The first time Mark kissed me was when I knew. If you and Jordan kissed, there wouldn’t be any doubt in your mind. You’d know.”

Sooner or later Shelly would worm it out of her. By telling the truth now, Jill thought she might be able to avoid a lengthy inquisition later. “All right, fine. We did kiss. A couple of times.”

Even Mark seemed surprised by that.

“See?” Shelly cried triumphantly. “And what happened?”

Jill heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Nothing. I want to return the wedding dress.”

“Sorry,” Shelly said, her eyes flashing with excitement, “it’s nonreturnable.”

“I don’t plan on ever seeing him again,” Jill said adamantly. She’d more or less told Jordan that, too. He was in full agreement; he wanted nothing to do with her, either. “I insist you take back the wedding dress,” Jill said. Shelly and Mark’s eyes met. Slowly they smiled, as if sharing a private joke.

But in Jill’s opinion, there was nothing to smile about.

* * *

The first person Jill called when she got home was her mother. Their conversation was friendly, and she was relieved to find Elaine less vague and self-absorbed than she’d been recently. Jill told a few anecdotes, described the island and the hotel, but avoided telling her mother about Jordan.

She was strangely reluctant to call Ralph, even though she knew he was waiting to hear from her. He was terribly nice, but unfortunately she found him … a bit dull. She put off calling; two days later, he called her, leaving a message.

They’d kissed a few times, and the kisses were pleasant enough, but for her there wasn’t any spark. When Jordan took her in his arms it felt like a forest fire compared to the placid warmth she experienced with Ralph.

Jordan. Forgetting him hadn’t become any easier. Jill had assumed that once she was home, surrounded by everything that was familiar and comfortable, she’d be able to put their brief interlude behind her.

It hadn’t happened.

Wednesday afternoon, Jill returned home from work, put water on for tea and began reading the paper. Normally she didn’t glance at the financial section. She wasn’t sure why she did now. Skimming the headlines, she idly folded back the page—and saw Jordan’s name. It seemed to leap out at her.

Jill’s heart slowed, then vaulted into action as she read the article. He’d done it. The paper was reporting Jordan’s latest coup. His company had reached an agreement with a land-management outfit in Hawaii, and construction on the shopping mall would begin within the next three months.

He must be pleased. Although he hadn’t said much, Jill knew Jordan had wanted this project to fly. A hundred questions bombarded her. Had he heard from Andrew Howard? Had the older man joined forces with Jordan, after all? Had he asked Jordan about her, and if so, what had Jordan told him?

Jill had thought of writing Mr. Howard a note, but she didn’t have his address. She didn’t have Jordan’s, either; however, it was a simple matter of checking the internet for his company’s address.

Before she could determine the wisdom of her actions, she scribbled a few lines of congratulation, addressed the envelope, and the next morning, mailed the card. She had no idea if it would even reach him.

Two days later when Jill came home from work, she noticed a long luxury car parked in front of her apartment building. Other than giving it an inquisitive glance, she didn’t pay any attention. She was shuffling through her purse, searching for her keys, when she heard someone approach from behind.

She turned her head to see—and nearly dropped her purse. It was Jordan. He looked very much as he had the first time she’d met him. Cynical and hard. Detached and unemotional. His smoky gray eyes scanned her, but there was nothing to indicate that he was glad to see her, or if he’d spared her a moment’s thought since they’d parted. Nothing but cool indifference.

“Hello, Jill.”

She was so flustered that the newspaper, which she’d tucked under her arm, fell to the floor. Stooping, she retrieved it, then clutched it against her chest as she straightened. “Jordan.”

“I got your note.”

“I—I wanted you to know how happy I was for you.”

He was staring pointedly at her door.

“Um, would you like to come inside?” she asked, unlatching the door with fumbling fingers. “I’ll make some tea if you like. Or coffee …” She hadn’t expected this, nor was she emotionally prepared for seeing him. She’d figured he’d read the card and then drop it in his wastebasket.

“Tea sounds fine.”

“I’ll just be a minute,” she said as she hurried into the kitchen. Her heart was rampaging, pounding against her ribs. “Make yourself at home,” she called out, holding the teakettle under the faucet.

“You have a nice place,” he said, standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room.

“Thank you. I’ve lived here for three years.” She didn’t know why she’d told him that. It didn’t matter to him how long she’d lived there.

“Why’d you send me the card?” he asked while she was setting out cups and saucers.

She didn’t feel comfortable using her everyday mugs; she had a couple of lovely china cups her mother had given her and decided on those instead. She paused at his question, frowning slightly. “To congratulate you.”

“The real reason.”

“That was the real reason. This shopping mall was important to you and I was happy to read that everything came together. I knew you worked hard to make it happen. That was the only reason I sent you the note.” Her cheeks heated at his implication. He seemed to believe something she hadn’t intended—or had she?

“Andrew Howard decided to invest in the project at the last minute. It was his support that made the difference.”

Jill nodded. “I was hoping he would.”

“I have you to thank for that.”

Nothing in his expression suggested he was grateful for any assistance she might unwittingly have given him. His features remained cold and hard. The man who’d spent that day on the beach with her wasn’t the harsh, unrelenting businessman who stood before her now.

“If I played any part in Mr. Howard’s decision, I’m sure it was small.”

“He seemed quite taken with you.”

“I was quite taken with him, too.”

A flicker of emotion passed through Jordan’s eyes, one so fleeting, so transitory, she was sure she’d imagined it.

“I’d like to thank you, if you’d let me,” he said.

She was dropping tea bags into her best ceramic teapot. “Thank me? You already have.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of dinner.”

Jill’s first thought was that she didn’t have anything appropriate to wear. Not to an elegant restaurant, and of course she couldn’t imagine Jordan dining anywhere else. He wasn’t the kind of man who ate in a burger joint.

“Unless you already have plans …”

He was offering her an escape, and his eyes seemed to challenge her to take it.

“No,” she said, almost gasping. Jill wasn’t sure why she accepted so readily, why she didn’t even consider declining. “I don’t have anything planned for tonight.”

“Is there a particular place you’d like to go?”

She shook her head. “You choose.”

Jill felt suddenly light-headed with happiness and anticipation. Trying to keep her voice steady, she added, “I’ll need to change clothes, but that shouldn’t take long.”

He looked at her skirt and blouse as if he hadn’t noticed them before. “You look fine just the way you are,” he said, dismissing her concern.

The kettle whistled and Jill removed it from the burner, pouring the scalding water into the teapot. “This should steep for a few minutes.” She backed out of the kitchen, irrationally fearing that he’d disappear if she let him out of her sight.

She chose the same outfit she’d worn on the trip home—the Hawaiian print shirt with the hot pink flowers. Narrow black pants set it off nicely, as did the shell lei she’d purchased the first day she’d gone touring. Then she freshened her makeup and brushed her hair.

Jordan had poured the tea and was adding sugar to his cup when she entered the kitchen. His gaze didn’t waver or change in any way, yet she could tell he liked her choice.

The phone rang. Jill darted a look at it, willing it to stop. She sighed and went over to check call display.

Shelly.

“Hello, Shelly.” She hoped her voice didn’t convey her lack of enthusiasm.

“How are you? I haven’t heard a word from you since you got home. Are you all right? I’ve been worried. You generally phone once or twice a week, and it’s not like you to—”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“You seem preoccupied. Am I catching you at a bad time? Is Ralph there? Maybe he’ll take the hint and go home. Honestly, Jill, I don’t know why you continue to see that guy. I mean, he’s nice, but he’s about as romantic as mold.”

“Uh, I have company.”

“Company,” Shelly echoed. “Who? No, let me guess. Jordan Wilcox!”

“You got it.”

“Talk to you later. Bye.” The drone of the disconnected line sounded in her ear so fast that Jill was left holding the receiver for several seconds before she realized her friend had hung up.

No sooner had Jill replaced it than the phone rang again. She looked at call display, cast an apologetic glance toward Jordan and snatched up the receiver. “Hello, Shelly.”

“I want it understood that you’re to give me a full report later.”

“Shelly!”

“And don’t you dare try to return that wedding dress. He’s the one, Jill. Quit fighting it. I’ll let you go now, but just remember, I want details, so be prepared.” She hung up as quickly as she had the first time.

“That was my best friend.”

“Shelly?”

“She’s married to Mark Brady.” Jill waited, wondering if Jordan would recognize the name.

“Mark Brady.” He spoke slowly, as though saying it aloud would jar his memory. “Is Mark a tax consultant? I seem to recall hearing something about him not long ago. Isn’t he the head of his own firm?”

“That’s Mark.” Jill nearly told him how Shelly and Mark had met, but stopped herself just in time. Jordan knew about the wedding dress—though not, of course, its significance—because Jill had inadvertently let it slip that first night.

“And Mark’s married to your best friend?”

“That’s right.” She took a sip of her tea. “When I said I’d met you, Mark knew who you were right away.”

“So you mentioned me.” He seemed pleasantly surprised.

He could have no idea how much he’d been in her thoughts during the past two weeks. She’d tried, heaven knew she’d tried, to push every memory of him from her mind. But it hadn’t worked. She couldn’t explain it, but somehow nothing was the same anymore.

“You ready?” he asked after a moment.

Jill nodded and carried their empty cups to the sink. Then Jordan led her to his car, opening the door and ushering her inside. When he joined her, he pulled out his ever-present cell phone … and turned it off.

“You don’t need to do that on my account,” she told him.

“I’m not,” he said, his smile tight, almost a grimace. “I’m doing it for me.” With that he started the engine.

Jill had no idea where they were going. He took the freeway and headed north, exiting into the downtown area of Seattle. There were any number of four-star restaurants within a five-block area. Jill was curious, but she didn’t ask. She’d know soon enough.

When Jordan drove into the underground garage of a luxury skyscraper, Jill was momentarily surprised. But then, several of the office complexes housed world-class restaurants.

“I didn’t know there was a restaurant here,” she said conversationally.

“There isn’t.”

“Oh.”

“I live in the penthouse.”

“Oh.”

“Unless you object?”

“No … no, that’s fine.”

“I phoned earlier and asked my cook to prepare dinner for two.”

“You have a cook?” Oddly, that fact astounded her, although she supposed it shouldn’t have, considering his wealth.

He smiled, his first genuine smile since he’d shown up at her door. “You’re easily impressed.”

He talked as though everyone employed a cook, and Jill couldn’t help laughing.

They rode a private elevator thirty floors up to the penthouse suite. The view of Puget Sound that greeted Jill as the doors glided open was breathtaking.

“This is beautiful,” she whispered, stepping out. She followed him through his living room, past a white leather sectional sofa and a glass-and-chrome coffee table that held a small abstract sculpture. She wasn’t too knowledgeable when it came to works of art, but this looked valuable.

“That’s a Davis Stanford piece,” Jordan said matter-of-factly.

Jill nodded, hoping he wouldn’t guess how ignorant she was.

“White wine?”

“Please.” Jill couldn’t take her eyes off the view. The waterways of Puget Sound were dotted with white-and-green ferries. The islands—Bainbridge, Whidbey and Vashon—were jewellike against the backdrop of the Olympic Mountains.

“Nothing like Hawaii, is it?” Jordan asked as he handed her a long-stemmed wineglass.

“No, but just as beautiful in its own way.”

“I’m going back to Oahu next week.”

“So soon?” Jill was envious.

“It’s another short trip. Two or three days at most.”

“Perhaps you’ll get a chance to go snorkeling again.”

Jordan shook his head. “I won’t have time for any underwater adventures this trip,” he told her.

Jill perched on the edge of the sofa, staring down at her wine. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to separate you from my time in Oahu,” she said softly. “The rest of my week seemed so … empty.”

“I know what you mean.”

Her heartbeat quickened as his gaze strayed to her mouth. He sat beside her and removed the wine goblet from her unresisting hand. Next his fingers curved around her neck, ever so lightly, brushing aside her hair. His eyes held hers as if he expected resistance. Then slowly, giving her ample opportunity to pull away if she wished, he lowered his mouth to hers.

Jill moaned in anticipation, instinctively moving closer. Common sense shouted in alarm, but she refused to listen. Just once she wanted to know what it was like to be kissed with real passion—to be cherished by a man. Just once she wanted to know what it meant to be adored. Her heart filled with delirious joy. Her hands slid up his chest to his shoulders as she clung to him. He kissed her again, small, nibbling kisses, as though he was afraid of frightening her with the strength of his need. But he must have sensed her receptiveness, because he deepened the kiss.

Suddenly it came to her. The same thing that had happened to Shelly was now happening to her. The phenomenon Aunt Milly had experienced sixty-five years earlier was coming to pass a third time.

The wedding dress.

Abruptly, she broke off the kiss. Panting, she sprang to her feet. Her eyes were wide and incredulous as she gazed down at a surprised Jordan.

“It’s you!” she cried. “It really is you.”

Six

“What do you mean, it’s me?” Jordan demanded. When she didn’t answer, he asked, “What’s wrong, Jill?”

“Everything,” she cried, shaking her head.

“I hurt you?”

“No,” she whispered, “no.” She sobbed quietly as she wrung her hands. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Why do you have to do anything?”

“Because … oh, you wouldn’t understand.” Worse, she couldn’t tell him. Every time he looked at her, she became more and more convinced that Shelly had been right. Jordan Wilcox was her future.

But she couldn’t fall in love with him, because she knew what would happen to her if she did—she’d become like her mother, lonely, bitter and unhappy. If she was going to marry, she wanted a man who was safe and sensible. A man like … Ralph. Yet the thought of spending the rest of her life with Ralph produced an even deeper sense of discontent.

“I’m not an unreasonable man,” Jordan said. Then he added, “Well, generally I’m not. If there’s a problem you can tell me.”

“It’s not supposed to be a problem. According to Shelly and her aunt Milly, it’s a blessing. I know I’m talking in riddles, but … there’s no way you’d understand!”

“Try me.”

“I can’t. I’m sorry, I just can’t.”

“But it has something to do with my kissing you?”

She stared at him blankly. “No. Yes.”

“You seem rather uncertain about this. Perhaps we should try it again….”

“That isn’t necessary.” But even as she spoke, Jordan was reaching for her, pulling her onto his lap. Jill willingly surrendered to his embrace, greeting his kiss with a muffled groan of welcome, a sigh of defeat. His arms held her close, and not for the first time, Jill was stunned by the effect he had on her. It left her feeling both unnerved and overwhelmed.

“Better?” he asked in a remarkably steady voice.

Unable to answer, Jill closed her eyes, then nodded. Better, yes. And worse. Every time he touched her, it confirmed what she feared most.

“I thought so.” He seemed reassured, but that did nothing to comfort Jill. For weeks she’d played a silly game of denial. They’d met, and from that moment on, nothing had been the same.

She didn’t, couldn’t, believe in the power of the wedding dress; she scoffed at the implausibility of its legend. Yet even Mr. Howard, who’d never heard of Aunt Milly or her dress, had felt compelled to explain Jordan’s past to her, had seen Jill as his future.

She’d spent only three days with Jordan, but she knew more about him than she knew about Ralph, whom she’d been dating for months. Their day on the beach and the dinner with Andrew Howard had given her insights into Jordan’s personality. Since then Jill had found it more difficult to accept what she saw on the surface—the detached, cynical male. The man who wore his I-don’t-give-a-damn attitude like an elaborate mask.

Perhaps she understood him because he was so much like her father. Adam Morrison had lived for the excitement, the risks, of the big deal. He poured his life’s blood into each business transaction because he’d never really acknowledged the importance of family, emotion, human values.

Jordan wouldn’t, either.

Dinner was a strained affair, although Jordan made several efforts to lighten the mood. As he drove her home, Jill sensed that he wanted to say something more. Whatever it was, he left unsaid.

“Have a safe trip,” she told him when he escorted her to her door. Her heart was pounding, not with excitement, but with trepidation, wondering if he planned to kiss her again.

“I’ll call you when I get back,” he told her. And that was all.

* * *

“I have a special fondness for this place,” Shelly said as she slipped into a chair opposite Jill. They were meeting for lunch at Patrick’s, a restaurant in the mall where Jill’s branch of PayRite was located. Typically, she was ten minutes late. Marriage to Mark, who was habitually prompt, hadn’t improved Shelly’s tardiness. Jill often wondered how they managed to keep their love so strong when they were so different.

Patrick’s had played a minor role in Shelly’s romance with Mark. Jill recalled the Saturday she’d met her there for lunch, and how amused she’d been at Shelly’s crazy story of receiving the infamous wedding dress.

The way Jill felt now—frantic, frightened, confused—was exactly the way Shelly had felt then.

“So tell me everything,” Shelly said breathlessly.

“Jordan stopped by. We had dinner. He left this morning on a business trip,” she explained dispassionately. “There isn’t much to tell.”

Shelly’s hand closed around her water glass, her eyes connecting with Jill’s. “Do you remember when I first met Mark?”

“I’m not likely to forget,” Jill said, smiling despite her present mood.

“Anytime you or my mother or anyone else asked me about Mark, I always said there wasn’t anything to tell. Remember?”

“Yes.” Jill thought of how Shelly’s face would become expressionless, her tone abrupt, whenever anyone mentioned Mark’s name.

“Well, when I told you nothing was happening, I was stretching the truth,” Shelly continued. “There was plenty going on, but nothing I felt I could share. Even with you.” She raised her eyebrows. “You, my friend, have the same look I did then. A lot has taken place between you and Jordan. So much that you’re frightened out of your wits. Trust me, I know.”

“He kissed me again,” Jill admitted.

“It was better than before?”

“Worse!”

Shelly apparently found Jill’s answer humorous. She tried to hide her smile behind the menu, then lowered it to say, “Don’t count on your feelings becoming any less complicated. They won’t.”

“He’s going to be away for a few days. Thank goodness, because it gives me time to think.”

“Oh, Jill,” Shelly said with a sympathetic sigh, “I wish there was something I could say to help you. Why are you fighting this so hard?” She grinned sheepishly. “I fought it, too. Be smart, just accept it. Love isn’t really all that terrifying once you let go of your doubts.”

“Instead of talking about Jordan, why don’t we order lunch?” Jill suggested a little curtly. “I’m starved.”

“Me, too.”

The waitress arrived at their table a moment later, and Jill ordered the split-pea soup and a turkey sandwich.

“Wait a minute,” Shelly interrupted, motioning toward the waitress. She turned to Jill. “You don’t even like split-pea soup. You never order it.” She gave Jill an odd look, then turned back to the waitress. “She’ll have the clam chowder.”

“Shelly!”

The waitress wrote down the order quickly, as though she feared an argument was about to erupt.

“You’re more upset than I realized,” Shelly said when they were alone. “Ordering split-pea soup—I can’t believe it.”

“It’s soup, Shelly, not nuclear waste.” Her friend definitely had a tendency to overreact. It drove Jill crazy, but it was the very thing that made Shelly so endearing.

“I’m going to call Jordan Wilcox myself,” Shelly announced suddenly.

“You’re going to what?” It was all Jill could do to remain in her seat.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.