To A Macallister Born. Joan Elliott Pickart
clear, crisp and incredibly quiet.
A million stars twinkled in the black-velvet sky, creating a silvery beacon to show the way as Jennifer and Jack turned the corner and left the lights of downtown Prescott behind.
Jack shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and hunched his shoulders against the chill as he matched Jennifer’s long-legged stride along the sidewalk.
He was out of his tiny mind, he thought, mentally shaking his head. He probably would catch pneumonia and croak, which would be his just desserts for this ridiculous performance.
There he was, slowly freezing to death, as he escorted a woman—one who didn’t wish to be escorted —home at midnight. Yep, he was definitely certifiably insane.
But…well, what could he say? A foreign sense of protectiveness had consumed him when Jennifer had announced she was about to walk home alone. There was no way he could just stand in the warmth of the hotel lobby and watch her set out on her own.
Oh, man, he was cold. He needed to do something to shift his attention from the fact that the blood was freezing in his veins. So, MacAllister, talk to Jennifer.
“Well, here we are,” he said.
“Mmm,” Jennifer said.
“Sure is quiet.”
“Mmm.”
“I’m used to New York, you know, the city that never sleeps.”
“Mmm,” Jennifer said again.
Jack sighed in defeat and trudged on.
Jennifer slid a glance at Jack, then looked quickly back down at her feet. She was being rude, she knew, by refusing to engage in the simplest conversation. But she just couldn’t chatter like a magpie. Not yet. Not until she regained at least a modicum of control over her raging emotions.
She was acutely aware—again—that Jack’s powerful male presence was causing heat to thrum within her despite the chill of the night.
But something more unsettling her now. When she’d realized that Jack intended to see her safely to her door even though he didn’t have a jacket to wear, she’d had to struggle against very unwelcome tears.
Dear heaven, how long had it been…if ever…since she’d felt protected and watched over by a man?
How long had it been…if ever…since she had been made to feel special and important due to the actions of a man?
How long had it been…if ever…since she’d been able to relax and just be, because someone else had stepped in and taken charge?
Jack’s stubborn insistence on walking her safely home had touched a place deep within her, and she’d been nearly overwhelmed by the emotions that gesture had evoked.
Oh, Jennifer, stop, she ordered herself.
Jack MacAllister wasn’t Prince Charming riding to the rescue of a damsel in distress. He was a smooth operator who was accustomed to having his way with women, a man who rarely heard “no,” she figured, from a member of the opposite sex.
They had engaged in a battle of wills of sorts, on the subject of her going home alone, and Jack obviously couldn’t deal with losing the war. So there he was, freezing his tush off in order to proclaim himself the victor. What a dunce.
“Cold?” Jennifer said, glancing over at Jack.
He chuckled. “You’d better believe it. This was a pretty dumb thing to do, but my big-city instincts kicked in and…Well, I was obviously wrong. This town is buttoned down so tight, we haven’t even seen a stray dog.”
“You’re admitting that I was right?” Jennifer said, surprise evident in her voice.
“Yep.”
“Oh.” She smiled. “Fancy that.”
“What did you think? That I was on a big macho trip here? It’s hard to be a hero when there aren’t any dragons to slay.” Jack laughed. “What I am is a six-foot popsicle.”
Jennifer stopped walking, and Jack skidded to a halt.
“Jack, this is silly,” she said, smiling. “Why don’t you turn around and head back to the hotel. Jog or something to get there as quickly as possible. I appreciate your gentlemanly gesture here, but as you can see, it really isn’t necessary.”
“Hey, we’re almost to your house,” he said, matching her smile. “A jacket of Joey’s obviously wouldn’t fit me, but if I beg, maybe you’ll loan me a blanket for my return journey in the wilds.”
“I’d be happy to.”
Jack nodded as he continued to look directly into Jennifer’s eyes, now clearly visible in the silvery glow of the stars.
Neither of them moved. They hardly breathed. Time lost meaning. Heat began to curl and swirl within them, gaining force, pulsing low.
A sudden chill coursed through Jennifer, a wave of fear, of knowing she was losing control of the very essence of herself.
“No,” she whispered, then spun around and hurried down the sidewalk.
Jack shook his head slightly to shake off the strange, sensuous spell that had been woven over him. “Man,” he said, then took a much-needed deep breath.
He glanced quickly in the direction Jennifer had gone, then sprinted after her, catching up as she turned onto the cobblestone walk leading to her house. She was fumbling in her purse for her key while holding the box of chocolates in her other hand.
“Jennifer—” Jack started.
“No,” she said, going up the steps of the wide front porch.
She unlocked the door and entered the house with Jack right behind her. “I’ll get you a blanket,” she said, her back to him as he entered the house and shut the door behind him.
“Jennifer, wait a minute,” he said. “We need to talk about what happened a minute ago.”
She spun around, her green eyes flashing. “No, we do not,” she said, her voice not quite steady. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“But you felt it, I know you did. The heat, the pull, the—”
“Lust,” she said, lifting her chin. “Let’s give it the tacky title it deserves, shall we? That’s what it was—lust. And as far as I’m concerned, the incident is forgotten. I certainly don’t wish to discuss it.”
Jack frowned, then shook his head slowly. “No, that wasn’t lust,” he said thoughtfully. “Nope. No way. I know lust when I’m caught up in it and that…whatever it was that took place between us was something very, very different.”
Jennifer dropped her purse and the candy box onto the sofa facing the fireplace, where embers of a dying fire still glowed. Her coat joined the lot moments later.
“Whatever,” she said, looking at Jack again. “You have your opinion. I have mine. It really doesn’t matter because the subject is closed.”
“What are you afraid of?” Jack said, studying her intently. “I mean, hey, I’m a tad shook up myself here, because I’ve never experienced anything quite like that before. But I’m not afraid of it. I want to know what it was.”
“Well, I don’t,” she said, wrapping her hands around her elbows. “Jack, please, let it go. It’s late, I’m tired, and I have to be up early in the morning to get Joey ready for kindergarten.”
Jack swept his gaze over the large room that was furnished with worn but comfortable chairs and a sofa. The tables were oak and had seen better days.
“Where’s your baby-sitter?” he said.
“When I’m on this shift at the hotel, Joey sleeps at Mildred Clark’s house next door. Mildred is a wonderful woman who is