The Summer Wedding: Groom Wanted / The Man You'll Marry. Debbie MacomberЧитать онлайн книгу.

       Four

      “I can’t” was Jill’s immediate response. She’d already lowered her guard—enough to be snuggling in his arms. So much for her resolve not to get involved with Jordan Wilcox, she thought with dismay. So much for steering a wide course around the man.

      “Why not?” Jordan asked with the directness she’d come to expect from him.

      “I’ve … m-made plans,” she stammered. Even now, she could feel herself weakening. With his arm around her and her head nestled against his shoulder it was difficult to refuse him.

      “Cancel them.”

      How arrogant of him to assume she should abandon her plans because the almighty businessman was willing to grant her some of his valuable time.

      “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” she answered coolly, her determination reinforced. She’d already paid for the rental car as part of her vacation package, she rationalized, and she wasn’t about to let that money go to waste.

      “Why not?” He sounded surprised.

      Isn’t being with him what you really want? The question stole into her mind, and Jill wanted to scream out her response. A resounding NO. Jordan Wilcox frightened her. It was all too easy to envision them together, strolling hand in hand along sun-drenched beaches. He’d kissed her that first time, that only time, on the beach, and the memory stubbornly refused to go away.

      “Jill?”

      At the softness in his voice, she involuntarily raised her eyes to his. Jill hadn’t expected to see tenderness in Jordan, but she did now, and it was nearly her undoing. Her feelings for him were changing, and she found herself more strongly attracted than ever. She remembered when she’d first seen him, the way she’d been convinced there was nothing gentle in him. He’d seemed so hard, so untouchable. Yet, right now, at this very moment, he’d made himself vulnerable to her. For her.

      “You’re trembling,” he said, running his hands down her arms. “What’s wrong?”

      “Nothing,” she denied quickly, breathlessly. “I’m … a little tired. It’s been a long day.”

      “That’s what you said last night when I kissed you. Remember? You started mumbling some nonsense about a dress, then you went stiff as a board on me.”

      “Nothing’s wrong,” she insisted, breaking away from him. She straightened and lowered her hand to her skirt, smoothing away imaginary creases.

      “I don’t buy that, Jill. Something’s bothering you.”

      She wished he hadn’t mentioned the dress, because it brought to mind, uninvited and unwanted, Aunt Milly’s wedding dress, which was hanging in her hotel-room closet.

      “You’d be shaking, too, if you knew the things I did,” she exclaimed, instantly regretting the impulse.

      “What are you afraid of?”

      She stared out the window, then slowly her lower lip began to quiver with the effort to restrain her laughter. She was actually frightened of a silly dress! She wasn’t afraid to fall in love; she just didn’t want it to be with Jordan.

      “For a woman who drags a wedding dress on vacation with her, you’re not doing very much to encourage romance.”

      “I did not bring that dress with me!”

      “It was in the room when you arrived? Someone left it behind?”

      “Not exactly. Shelly did. She, uh, enjoys a good laugh. She mailed it to me.”

      “It never occurred to me that you might be engaged,” he said slowly. “You’re not, are you?”

      “No.” But according to her friend, she soon would be.

      “Who’s Shelly?”

      “My best friend,” Jill explained, “or at least she used to be.” Then, impulsively, her heart racing, she added, “Listen, Jordan, I think you have a lot of potential in the husband category, but I can’t fall in love with you. I just can’t.”

      A stunned silence followed her announcement.

      He cocked his eyebrows. “Aren’t you taking a bit too much for granted here? I asked you to explore the island with me, not bear my children.”

      She’d done it again, blurted out something totally illogical. Worse, she couldn’t make herself stop. Children were a subject near and dear to her heart.

      “That’s another thing,” she wailed. “I bet you don’t even like children. No, I can’t go with you tomorrow. Please don’t ask me to … because it’s so hard to say no.” It must be the wine, Jill decided; she was saying far more than she should.

      Jordan relaxed against the leather upholstery and crossed his long legs. “All right, if you’d rather not go, I’m certainly not going to force you.”

      His easy acceptance astonished her. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, feeling almost disappointed that he wasn’t trying to persuade her.

      Something was drastically, dangerously wrong with her. She was beginning to like Jordan, really like him. Yet she couldn’t allow this attraction to continue. She couldn’t allow herself to fall in love with a man so much like her father. Because she knew what that meant, what kind of life it led to, what kind of unhappiness it caused.

      When the limousine stopped in front of the hotel, it was all Jill could do to wait for the chauffeur to climb out of the driver’s seat, walk around the car and open the door for her.

      She hurried inside the lobby, needing to breathe in the fresh air of reason. Wait for sanity to catch up with her heart.

      She reached the elevators and pushed the button, holding her thumb in place, hoping that would hurry it along.

      “Next time, keep your little anecdotes to yourself,” Jordan said sharply from behind her. Then he walked leisurely across the lobby.

      Keep her little anecdotes to herself? The temptation to rush after him and demand an explanation was strong, but Jill made herself resist it.

      Not until she was in the elevator did she understand. This entire discussion had arisen because she’d told him her story about the caesura and her lack of musical talent. And now he was turning her own disclosure against her! Righteous anger began to build in her heart.

      But by the time Jill was in her room and ready for bed, she felt wretched. Jordan had asked her to spend a day with him, and she’d reacted as if he’d insulted her.

      The way she’d gone on and on about his potential as a husband was bad enough, but then she’d dragged the subject of children into their conversation. That mortified her even more. The wine could be blamed for only so much.

      She cringed, too, as she recalled what Andrew Howard had said, the faith he’d placed in her. Jordan needed her, he’d said, apparently convinced that Jordan would never experience love if she didn’t teach him. She hated disappointing Andrew, and yet … and yet …

      It didn’t surprise Jill that she slept poorly. By morning she wasn’t feeling any enthusiasm at all about picking up her rental car or sightseeing on the north shore.

      She reviewed the room-service menu, ordered coffee and toast, then stared at the phone for several minutes before conceding there was one thing she still had to do. Anxious to get it over with, Jill rang through to Jordan’s room.