The Summer Wedding: Groom Wanted / The Man You'll Marry. Debbie Macomber
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.”
“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?”