Switched, Bothered and Bewildered (22 page)

"Hey, you look fabulous," he said as she let him in the door.

Jana Lee looked into Jackson's handsome face and felt the strangest mixture of fear and excitement. He was devastatingly good-looking—more so tonight than she'd noticed before. He had on a suit and tie, and something else—his eyes ate her up. Under those fine clothes dwelled a wolf.

"You look amazing," he growled.

"So do you. Ain't we a pair?" she joked.

"I think so," he murmured as he leaned in and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek.

She touched her own cheek with surprise.

"Shall we go straight off?"

"I have to draw in my other eyebrow/' she blurted out. Oh, smooth.

Jackson grinned at her. "Well now, just go right ahead. I'll wait for your eyebrow. I'll just put your flowers in water and put the chocolates on the counter. I know the way to the kitchen."

Jana Lee streaked to the bathroom and finished up her eyebrow, muttering to herself about stupid things to say and why she couldn't be more ... together. She refreshed her new orange lipstick and went to grab the rest of her date gear.

"Ta-da." She posed against the door frame.

"I'd say that eyebrow is looking good."

He moved close to her, and she thought he might kiss her little orange lips for a moment. Then he removed her sister's black-and-gold cashmere shawl from her hand.

She shivered—
not from being cold
—as he wrapped it around her bare arms. Jana Lee held the shawl close to her, clutching her small beaded evening purse in front of her.

"Don't worry, I'll warm you up."

She was afraid of that.

Sitting across from Ms. Tompkins at the restaurant, Jackson tried to brush away the overwhelming feelings that kept creeping up on him. Things like—
m-m-marriage.
Like ... honeymoons. Like ... waking up every morning to see this woman sleeping next to him. Reading the Sunday papers and

having coffee together. Getting a dog. This was quite insane; they hadn't even had sex yet. And hello, he'd only been dating her a week. And he hadn't had a dog since he was a kid. His dad had gotten the dog in the divorce.

Sure, he'd heard of a few couples that had met and just never stopped being together after that first date. Rhonda and Pete in shipping.

But not him. He was a man of the world. He ordered champagne and gulped down a large portion of the glass to dull his thoughts, but she only sipped at hers, saying something about a previous headache and how she was going to be practical this time. She was so wise.

All during their meal he watched her full, soft lips as she talked. He looked into her beautiful blue eyes. They were large and surrounded with the most amazing fringe of lashes. She could have been a model; she was so lovely. But she didn't have that edgy model thing going on. He knew; he'd dated his share. She was more like someone's very lively, very graceful wife. Wife.

Oh my
God,
what was he saying? He took a big gulp of ice water.

"Shall we dance?" he asked.

"I'd love to," she answered. She placed her white linen napkin on the table and waited as he pulled her chair out for her. She rose and held out her hand for him.

He led her onto the dance floor and smoothly

moved them into a slow waltz to match the sixties "Sinatra Night" music. The song was "The Nearness of You." The singer, who sounded a whole lot like Sinatra, made it count, and so did Jackson. He whispered to her about how good she felt in his arms. He felt her melt against him. He closed his eyes and hummed along about the nearness of
her.

When the song was done they went back to the table. He felt like she was so close, yet so far away. He wanted to catch her and hold her. Did she have the same feelings about him?

"Shall we indulge in dessert?" He wanted to indulge her. She didn't answer; she had a faraway look. "Jillian?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I was thinking about something else."

Jackson reached across the table toward her. "Family or work related?"

"Both, I guess."

"I know about that family thing. My father is a formidable character. Of course you've met him, you know what I mean. I guess it's pure nepotism for him to put me in the vice president position."

"It only makes sense though; he'd want you watching after his concerns. He must trust you."

"He must. But that is very kind of you to say." Jackson signaled the waiter as he walked near. "Dessert?" he asked her.

"Love some," she answered. *
  
*
  
*

Jana Lee took another spoonful of chocolate mousse and tried to put the huge wave of guilt out of her mind, but it nagged at her like a mosquito on a summer night, buzzing in her ear while she was trying to sleep. It buzzed
"Liar, liar,"
at her.

And for once, it wasn't guilt about chocolate. It was guilt about Jackson. He wasn't the way she'd figured him, and it was scaring her. Either he was supremely good at making a woman feel like she was the only one he was interested in, or he was actually interested in her.

Jackson had depth. His stories were great. He'd had a rich, interesting life, and she could picture it so clearly when he talked about his brother and the mischief they'd gotten into as a child. She loved talking with him.

But most of all she felt herself wanting to do more than just talk with Jackson.

When he'd held her in his arms on the dance floor, he'd been like a prince in a fairy tale, and for once, she'd been a real princess—the mysterious princess who wasn't what she seemed. Jackson Hawks was pretty close to sweeping her off her feet.

When was the last time she'd felt this alive? Her whole life had changed in one week. She felt like she was tingling all over with aliveness. She was falling for Jackson, that was obvious.

If it weren't for two big fat elephant-sized things bothering her, she'd be in date heaven. One was

her concern for her sister's feelings, and two was the fact that she was leaving in one week. Oh, three, the little detail that she was lying her head off to Jackson. Three elephants.

Jackson talked, and she leaned on her elbow, savoring the chocolate mousse, listening carefully and imagining his lips on hers.

"I guess my father trusts me, but he does have his watchdogs keeping an eye on things."

"Watchdogs?" she asked dreamily.

"Hey, here we are talking about work and we're supposed to be unwinding. Let's not think about work." Jackson sat back and looked at her until she felt a blush creep up her neck and cheeks. "Let's just think about how pretty you look tonight."

Jana Lee felt the heat work its way up her face and trickle back down over her entire body. He was so, so sexy. He was like the boy in high school everyone wanted, who went steady with the head cheerleader for three years, then finally broke up with her, and every girl in school threw herself in his path but none succeeded. The coveted boy they all wanted who vanished to a college back East like a dream that hadn't been real. Unattainable perfection.

She tried to think about something else besides his kiss. "Work is such a big part of our life, though, and I'm so excited about the ideas we've come up with."

"I am too, but there's a time to work and a time to play. So let's play Come out and dance with me again. I like having you in my arms."

She took a sip of water to cool herself off. "Jackson Hawks, you are a sweet-talker. I'll be a notch on your bedpost and forgotten within another week." She couldn't believe she'd said that. A notch on his bedpost. Her fantasies were creeping out.

He stood up and came over to her side of the table. "You, my dear, are not a woman to be forgotten easily. At any rate, since the night is young, and so are we, and since Sinatra himself is inviting us "Dancing in the Dark," we should go with it, don't you think?" He pulled her up and she let him take her.

Here she was with a handsome, interesting man, dancing to the smooth, soft rhythm of the song, loving every minute of it. Should she feel guilty? Probably. She closed her eyes and let it go.

"And you in my bed would be more than a notch," he whispered in her ear. "It would be heaven."

She melted.

Finally,
he thought,
finally she's giving in a little.
Jackson lost himself in her, sliding a gentle kiss up her neck to her earlobe. He felt that old familiar feeling of having seduced a woman over the edge. He liked that feeling.

But weirdly enough, he felt guilty. He removed his mouth from her neck and put his cheek next to hers. She smelled like violets.

He remembered that smell from a patch of special flowers his grandmother had grown in a shady spot under a cherry tree in her backyard. He remembered her falling to her knees in the soft moss and having him do the same, burying their noses in the newly emerged flowers. She was quite a woman, his grandmother. She was as constant as spring. As a holiday. She was always there for them.

God help him, he was thinking about his grandmother's garden instead of some of the more exotic ideas he could be having.

And how can you seduce a woman who reminds you of your grandmother? He rolled his head back and groaned a quiet groan.

"Are you tired?" she asked him.

"No, I'm confused. You make me feel things I've never felt before."

The music ended, but she was like a soft breeze in his arms. She slid her lips over his cheek and whispered, "Shall we finish up here?"

Despite her warmth, he figured she was now going to dump him and crawl into bed with a good book. "Whatever you'd like," he said absently. He felt like he'd revealed too much of himself. The thought of the evening ending stabbed him, and he wanted to figure out why it hurt so much.

He escorted her back to the table and signaled the waiter for a check. He had bought her a single yellow rose to be waiting at the table. She picked it up and took it with them, wrapped in a bit of plastic she'd had the waiter bring. Such a practical girl.

She'd kissed him in the limo. She'd let him get very hot and bothered, and she'd even let him run his fingers lightly over the tip of her very excited nipple. She'd let him walk her to the door, wanting more, expecting more. Then she'd dumped him.

She was a first-class idiot, no doubt about it. She dropped her rose on the sofa, plucked one of her fancy shoes off and threw it across the room. It hit a square column that held some arty vase. She watched it teeter, then sprinted over and caught it.

Once it was steadied, she limped into the kitchen and flung open the bottom freezer unit of Jillian's fancy fridge. Thank God her sister had the sense to stock ice cream. And good ice cream at that. Ben and Jerry's Phish Food—chocolate ice cream with gooey marshmallow, a caramel swirl and fudge fish. Bring it on.

She found a big spoon, sat down at the kitchen island and popped open the carton. She was going to turn into a chunky monkey if she kept eating stuff like this. But she didn't care at the moment. She was completely bothered and bewildered. She had no idea how to fix the mess she'd gotten into, let alone the mess she'd gotten Jillian into.

She shoved a big spoonful of ice cream in her mouth. When Jackson had gotten her in the back of that limo and kissed her until her toes had curled and her shoes had fallen off, there hadn't been a doubt in her mind that her sister would have been in bed with him by now.

But she wasn't her sister. She had guilt. She had that stupid angel on her shoulder that was way louder than that little devil on the other shoulder.

Her lips were still burning from his kiss. He'd kissed her in the backseat, he'd kissed her in the elevator, he'd kissed her as she'd unlocked the apartment door, and she'd literally put her hand on his chest and closed the door in his face with a polite "Thanks, Jackson, I had a wonderful time."

And every one of those kisses she'd eaten up like she was eating Phish Food now. With a spoon, with passion, with the promise of what their love-making could be like.

Then, just as she'd been about to let him in, she'd remembered her lies, her other life, her sister, her daughter, and her mission, not necessarily in that order.

Augh. Ice cream was
not
as good as sex. She thwacked her head with her spoon hand, and bits of ice cream flew around her. One bit landed on her dress. She jumped up and blotted the spot, then found club soda in the fridge to finish the

cleanup. She stripped off the dress and blotted with the club soda-soaked towel. Then she tossed the dress across one of the bar stools.

Here she was in her underwear, a very sexy black slip, a very sexy bra, and stupid pantyhose. She took off her remaining shoe, which she'd forgotten to remove, stripped the pantyhose, climbed back on her chair and pried another lump of ice cream out of the carton.

Poor me.

Poor miserable me.
She sniffled.

Up to my eyebrows in principles and morals and...
ice cream.
She shoved another mouthful in and licked the spoon. She needed to talk to her sister.

Jackson paced the hallway six times. Then he went back downstairs and told Pops to take him home. Pops winked at him and said better luck next time. Jackson shook his head. Everyone was so used to him being a ladies' man. It would ruin his reputation when it got around that he'd been rejected by Ms. Tompkins.