Unexpected Father. Kelly Jamison
more in love than ever.
There was a second date. Hannah had found a reservoir of self-confidence in the wine, and when Jordan had suggested they stop at his apartment to pick up some papers before dropping her at her place, she’d agreed.
He gave her a tour of the apartment, and at the bedroom she found herself looping her arms around his neck and smiling up at him. Jordan took it from there. If there was a seduction, she had been a more than willing participant, if not the instigator. But that didn’t assuage her anger with Jordan.
He was handsome, he was articulate, he was intelligent, he was the walking embodiment of charm. And he’d never called her again after they’d made love.
Her grandmother was right, she decided. Men only wanted one thing. And when they got it, they moved on to the next conquest.
Her pride stung, even more so when she’d passed Jordan’s office two days later and had seen him in conference with a buxom blonde. Some conference. Her bosom was thrust into his face as she leaned over the desk next to him, and one hand with its manicured, fire-engine red press-on nails was draped teasingly over his.
Hannah would have continued working at McClennon Industries, would have continued with her dateless, colorless existence, because she was a Brewster, and that was what she had been taught. But circumstances intervened.
Her sister, Marybeth, the wild one in the family, had become pregnant out of wedlock, and Hannah had quit her job to help her out. When Hannah finally returned to St. Louis, it was with her sister’s child and to a different job.
Until this day she had not seen Jordan McClennon again.
She nearly groaned at the sight of him. She might not be in love any longer, but her libido hadn’t forgotten him.
He had the same chiseled features and black hair as his brothers. His eyes were blue, so light and yet intense, like the center of a flame.
And he was looking right at her. With interest.
Immediately her surprise turned to irritation. He hadn’t changed. He was always on the lookout for a conquest. Obviously he didn’t recognize her yet, or he would know that he’d made this particular conquest seven years ago.
Hannah kept her expression carefully neutral as a chattering Ronnie led the men toward her. To her dismay, she found that she couldn’t quite make herself look away from Jordan.
Her pride, like an irate security guard, willed her eyes to move along and stop dawdling where they didn’t belong. But her eyes were focused only on doing an inventory of Jordan McClennon’s features.
His black hair, thick and gleaming like ebony in the sun, was flawless, just unruly enough to move in the breeze and yet provide the perfect frame for his striking face. No flaws in his bone structure, either; the hard, square chin and high cheekbones would have done a Viking proud. Eyes so light blue that they seemed preternatural were still fixed unwaveringly on her The straight, aristocratic nose, the full, firm mouth that quirked up on one side in an assured, sardonic half smile....
Stop! she ordered herself. But still, her shameless eyes took in his hard, lean chest and thighs and the tight jeans that made all kinds of promises.
There was still no wedding ring on his finger.
Her face was growing warm.
She made herself smile as Ronnie introduced the brothers to her.
“Hannah Brewster?” Jordan repeated as if Ronnie’s introduction had come as a complete surprise. “The Hannah Brewster who used to work at my company?”
Hannah felt a prick of irritation that he chose that particular description—employee—instead of something more familiar. Still, she forced herself to nod coolly.
Jordan surveyed her with obvious interest.
“You cut your hair. And got rid of the glasses.”
Her irritation grew. He was looking at her as if she were a new chair he was considering buying for his patio.
“Actually, I kind of liked the glasses,” he said, smiling.
Hannah was determined not to let that charming smile do her in this time.
“I gave the glasses to charity when I got contacts,” she said dryly. “I didn’t keep the hair, either, or you’d be welcome to it.”
Jordan laughed, and she felt a pang, remembering how much she had liked his laugh once upon a time. It was like the sound of a river rolling over sun-warmed stones. It was the kind of laugh a woman liked to hear on a Saturday night while the radio played love songs and her lover slowly undressed her. It was a laugh—and a voice—that could warm the coldest night.
His eyes were studying her again. “No,” he said softly. “I take it back about the glasses. Your eyes are too pretty to hide behind glasses.”
From the corners of those eyes she could see his brothers exchanging glances. Apparently they were all too familiar with his routine.
“You must have a subscription to the Guide for the Single Male,” she said sharply. “That’s about the tenth time I’ve heard that line.” She was making no concessions to his studied charm.
Jordan’s smile widened, and she noticed that his brothers had raised their eyebrows in surprise.
“Pardon me, ma’am,” the brother introduced as Jake said. “But could I take a picture of this? The great Jordan McClennon striking out with a woman?”
He and his other brother, John, laughed and punched a put-upon Jordan in the shoulder, grinning at Hannah as they turned to leave.
“It was nice meeting you, Hannah,” John, the middle McClennon brother, said. “Very nice. Come on, Ronnie. Let’s get to work.”
Hannah scrambled to her feet, picked up the board and cradled it in her arms. When she felt Jordan encroaching too closely on her heels, she turned suddenly, nearly catching him in the stomach with the board’s end.
“Hannah, I—” he began, the laughter gone from his face.
“Excuse me, Jordan,” she interrupted crisply. “I’m here to help Ronnie build a house, and that’s all. Don’t waste your energy on me.” With that, she turned with as much dignity as she could muster, the board still in her arms like a soldier’s musket, and trooped toward the cement foundation.
Hannah leaned on the board and carefully avoided looking at Jordan as she watched Jake gather tools from the back of the pickup. A long strip of metal lay half-coiled on the ground by her feet. Glancing down, she caught a distorted reflection of herself, and studied it impassively.
She supposed she did look quite different from the way Jordan had remembered. Her short haircut with its pixie bangs and tousled shape gave her fine brown hair more character and suited her face. She used mascara now that her brown eyes were actually visible without glasses, and it had seemed a natural progression to wear a light shade of lipstick as well.
She had always tended to be on the thin side, but over the past few years she had gained enough weight to add some curves. She was wearing an old pair of jeans that clung to her rounded hips, and a pink cotton T-shirt with a picture of a hot-fudge sundae on the front above the words Breakfast Of Champions. She was all too aware that the T-shirt stretched tightly over her breasts.
Thinking back, she had never known what it was that prompted Jordan McClennon to ask her out in the first place. At the time it had seemed a miracle that someone like Jordan would notice mousy little Hannah Brewster, much less take her to dinner.
Her affair with Jordan had been the only one in her life, and it had taught her a valuable lesson about herself. She was not the promiscuous type, and she was not about to let anything like that happen again. Her sister, rest her soul, had occupied enough beds to fill a motel directory, but that life-style was not for Hannah. She would rather remain celibate than repeat the humiliation of making love with a man she cared for, only to have him