The Summer Wedding. Debbie Macomber
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