To a Macallister Born

by Joan Elliott Pickart

  “And smart person that I am,” Andrea said, “I’m putting my money on your falling in love and losing the bachelor bet, Jack.”

  Over the next hour, Jennifer carried out her hostess duties by rote.

  She was furious at herself. She’d behaved like an idiot in front of Brandon’s friend Jack MacAllister. Granted, she had just cause to have been frightened of Jack.

  But then? Oh, good grief. Had she dismissed the incident as a misunderstanding, regained her composure and performed in a professional manner?

  Oh, no, not her. She’d been caught up in a mish-mash of lingering anger, along with acute feminine awareness of Jack’s blatant masculinity. She’d turned into Ms. Fumble Fingers, dropping the menus, then added Shrew-of-the-Year to her titles while showing the group to their table.

  Jennifer stepped behind the podium and stared at the reservation book, not really seeing the schedule of diners yet to arrive.

  Even now, she thought, Jack MacAllister seemed to be somehow reaching out and touching her from way across the room. He was just so…there, and just so…male, and just so…

  Heat feathered down her back, then wove into her to pulse low in her body. She shook her head in self-disgust, then looked at Jack from beneath her lashes.

  Why? she wondered frantically. Why did that man have such a powerful and unsettling impact on her? He was just an ordinary man, for Pete’s sake.

  Well, no, that wasn’t entirely true. She’d already conceded that Jack was an eleven on a scale of one to ten. He was so ruggedly handsome, so perfectly proportioned, and that thick, dark auburn hair of his was just begging to have feminine fingers sift through it.

  And his eyes? Oh, those chocolate fudge sauce eyes mesmerized her and made it difficult to breathe.

  Jennifer, stop it, she ordered herself, shifting her gaze back to the book. She was getting a grip—right now. All she had to do was bid Jack a pleasant goodbye as he left the dining room, and that would be that. She’d never see him again.

  She frowned.

  Wait a minute. Was he a guest at Hamilton House? If so, how long would he be staying in Prescott? Would he be popping into the dining room for dinner night after night? It stood to reason he’d be registered at his friend’s hotel, but for how many days?

  It didn’t matter, she thought, lifting her chin. She’d been thrown off-kilter by Jack MacAllister for reasons she couldn’t begin to fathom. But she was on full-alert now, her protective walls firmly in place. She was hereby immune to the spell-weaving Mr. MacAllister, even if he smiled that knock-’emdead smile of his.

  And the minute she got home tonight she was throwing away the flowers from Megan’s bridal bouquet. Unsuperstitious or not, she wasn’t taking any more chances.

  Very good. She was back in control. Everything was fine. Thank heavens all of this ridiculous nonsense was at an end.

  Jack listened absently as Aunt Charity related a tale of Brandon, Ben, Taylor and Jennifer’s mischievous deeds when they were children growing up together in Prescott.

  Ah, here we go, he thought. Some people had just entered the dining room, which meant—yes, there it was…Jennifer’s smile. It lit up her face and caused those marvelous green eyes of hers to sparkle to the point where he was dazzled from across the room.

  He’d watched her move through the tables with elegant, natural grace. She was femininity personified, and the heat throbbing low in his body told him that he was very aware of that fact, both mentally and physically. The fascinating Ms. Mackane was turning him inside out.

  Which didn’t make one bit of sense.

  Jennifer was the type of woman he steered clear of, big time. She was, as the saying went, encumbered—with a five-year-old son, a home, a life-style that virtually shouted that the missing ingredients were a husband and father. No way. That was not his scene, not even close.

  He’d also learned that Jennifer wasn’t seeing anyone, wasn’t into the singles’ dating scene. She did not, therefore, know how to play the no-strings, no-commitment game.

  Jennifer didn’t wish to remarry, which was a point in her favor. A shaky point. He’d heard that bit before, but when a guy came along who collected a hefty paycheck, lo and behold, how quickly that tune could change.

  Nope, he wanted no part of the lovely Jennifer. She was more than a pleasure to look at, was feisty and funny, and dynamite when she got her temper in a roar, but he would cut a wide path around her during the remainder of his stay in Prescott.

  Jack watched as Jennifer led a couple to a small table in the center of the room. The man spoke to her, and Jennifer laughed as she handed the pair their menus.

  A flash of heat rocketed through him as he heard the lilting sound of Jennifer’s laughter. He shifted slightly in his chair and frowned.

  Damn, he thought. Jennifer was pushing his libido buttons again. Why was she capable of doing that?

  He controlled his actions and reactions toward women. He set the tempo, called the shots, and exited stage left at the first hint of possessiveness on the part of the woman in question.

  He treated women with respect, showed them a good time, but he didn’t particularly trust them.

  He sure didn’t know why Jennifer Mackane was able to hang him out to dry, but he’d had enough of it. She was upsetting his peace of mind and driving his raging body over the edge.

  Why the hell was this happening to him—?

  “Right, Jack?” Brandon said, snapping Jack back to attention.

  “What?” Jack said. “Oh, sorry. I was off somewhere, I guess.”

  “She’s thirty-three,” Aunt Charity said, “but she looks younger, don’t you think?”

  “Who?” Jack said, an expression of pure innocence on his face.

  “Give it up, hotshot,” Aunt Charity said. “I’ve been sitting here watching you watching Jennifer through this entire meal.”

  “Me?” Jack said, raising his eyebrows. “Well, I may have glanced at her a time or two, but there’s no harm in looking at the scenery, Aunt Charity.”

  “That’s true, dear,” Aunt Prudence said, “but you need to do more than look at our Jennifer. You should, as the gentleman I’m certain you are, speak with Jennifer privately and sincerely apologize for frightening her while you studied her home.”

  “I thoroughly agree,” Andrea said decisively.

  “Buy her some candy from the snazzy shop in the lobby,” Aunt Charity said, then paused. “On second thought, buy me some, too. I love the stuff.”

  “Hey, I didn’t scare Jennifer intentionally,” Jack said. “It was a simple misunderstanding, that’s all.”

  “Which needs to be put to rest properly,” Aunt Prudence said.

  “You’re dead meat, buddy,” Brandon said, smiling. “Don’t argue the point any further, because you’d be wasting your breath. Apologize to Jennifer when you get the chance, and be done with it.”

  “Mmm,” Jack said, glaring at Brandon.

  “What I was saying to you when you were daydreaming,” Brandon went on, “is that you’re going to design our house while you’re in Prescott. I was bringing the aunts up to date on that.”

  “Oh. Sure. Right,” Jack said, nodding. “That’s what I’m going to do, fantastic architect that I am. I’ll have those plans to you and Andrea before I head to Ventura for the MacAllister reunion. Man, Christmas is going to be a zoo with the whole clan together.”

  “It sounds like fun,” Andrea said.

  “I think the kids outnumber the adults by now,” Jack said. “The MacAllisters are into having babies, that’s for sure. I’ll have to learn how to talk to munchkin-type people, since I’m going to be part of the MacAllister architectural firm in Ventura. No more New York City rat race and brutal winters. Maybe I’ll even learn how to surf.”

  “You did the smart thing by leaving New York,” Brandon said. “I’ve never been sorry I dropped out of the fast lane.” He smiled warmly at Andrea. “Coming home to Prescott was the best thing I ever did.”

>   “Thank you, love,” Andrea said, matching his smile.

  “Jennifer’s hair is naturally curly,” Aunt Charity said. “No fancy perms or globby makeup for our girl.”

  “Aunt Charity, would you cut it out?” Jack said. “I’m not interested in all the little details about your Jennifer. She has an interesting house that I’d love to do some restoration work on, and that’s it. Period.”

  “I’m just chatting,” Aunt Charity said, batting her eyelashes at him.

  Jack shook his head and laughed.

  “Maybe flowers would be a better gift of apology for Jennifer,” Aunt Prudence said, pressing one fingertip to her chin. “Mmm. No, the chocolates are best, because Jennifer has fresh flowers at the moment. She caught the bridal bouquet at Megan and Ben’s wedding.”

  “So you said,” Jack said, rolling his eyes heavenward. “Which means Jennifer is to be the next bride and blah, blah, blah. I hope she’ll be very happy with whatever guy she snags.”

  “That’s the problem,” Aunt Charity said. “We can’t get Jennifer into snagging mode. Been working on that for years.”

  “So, it’s settled, then?” Aunt Prudence said, leaning toward Jack. “You’ll purchase some dainty chocolates for Jennifer?”

  Jack raised both hands in a gesture of defeat. “Yes, I’ll do it. I’ll buy the bribe and humbly apologize to Ms. Mackane. Can we change the subject now?”

  “Yep,” Aunt Charity said. “I’m ready for a sinful dessert. Bring it on.”

  The dining room at Hamilton House closed at eleven o’clock, then preparations were made for breakfast the next morning.

  Just before midnight, Jennifer turned off the lights, locked the doors to the dining room, then walked along the hallway to the quiet lobby of the hotel.

  She waved goodbye to the clerk on duty behind the registration desk, then headed toward the front doors, buttoning her coat as she went.

  As she passed one of the high-back chairs, a figure rose, startling her and causing her to gasp and stumble a bit.

  “I’m sorry,” Jack said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  Jennifer frowned. “Oh? You seem to be making it your life’s work as far as I can tell.”

  Jack closed the distance between them and extended a gold foil covered box toward Jennifer.

  “My peace offering,” he said, smiling. “A token of sincere apology for upsetting you by staring at your house. Sweets for the sweet, and all that.”

  Jennifer looked at the box, Jack’s face, the box, then narrowed her eyes as she met Jack’s gaze again.

  “Aunt Pru and Aunt Charity put you up to this, didn’t they?” she said.

  “Well…” Jack said slowly.

  Jennifer sighed and took the offered box of chocolates. “All right. So be it. I accept your apology, and the whole business is forgotten. You didn’t have to stay up until midnight to do this.”

  Jack shrugged. “I’m a night owl.” He paused. “May I walk you to your car?” What? he thought incredulously. Where did that come from? His intention had been to hand over the dumb candy, then head to his room and the soft bed that was waiting for him.

  Jennifer laughed, and a bolt of heat shot through his body, causing him to frown at his now-familiar reaction to the lilting sound.

  “You really don’t want to volunteer to walk me to my car, Mr—Jack,” Jennifer said. “It’s parked in the driveway at my house. Thank you for the candy. My son, Joey, and I will enjoy it. Good night.”

  “Wait a minute,” Jack said, as Jennifer started to move around him. “How are you getting home if you didn’t drive to work?”

  “I walked. Since you’re so familiar with the location of my house, you know it’s only a few blocks away, and the weather is surprisingly mild for mid-November in Prescott.” Jennifer shrugged. “So, I walked.”

  “Are you nuts?” Jack said, his voice rising. “You can’t stroll along the sidewalk at midnight. You’ll get mugged before you go ten feet.”

  “I certainly will not,” Jennifer said, matching his volume. “This is Prescott, Arizona, not…wherever it is you’re from.”

  “New York City, and I don’t care if this is cute little Prescott. You’ve got no business walking home alone at this hour.”

  “I do it all the time.”

  “Well, you’re not doing it tonight,” Jack said, taking her elbow. “Let’s go.”

  Jennifer jerked her arm free of Jack’s grasp.

  “You are, without a doubt, one of the pushiest, rudest men I have ever met,” she said. “You may be Brandon’s friend, but that doesn’t mean that I have to like you—which I don’t. Good night, Mr. MacAllister.”

  Jennifer marched toward the front doors of the hotel. Jack fell in step beside her, causing her to stop as she placed one hand on the door latch.

  “Now what?” she said.

  “I’m going for a midnight walk, that’s all,” Jack said, smiling at her. “If I happen to meander in the direction of your house…sue me.”

  “You’re really exasperating, do you know that?” Jennifer said. “Fine. Whatever. I’m not wasting any more of my time arguing with you. Your death, however, will not be on my conscience.”

  “What death? I thought you said it was safe out there on the streets.”

  “Oh, it is. However, you’re not even wearing the sport coat you had on at dinner. This is not shirtsleeve weather. If you get pneumonia and croak, it will serve you right.”

  Jack chuckled. A shiver slithered down Jennifer’s back as she heard the sexy, male rumble.

  “I don’t suppose,” he said, “that you’d wait while I went to my room for a jacket, would you?”

  “Not a chance.”

  “Didn’t think so.”

  “End of story,” Jennifer said, lifting her chin. “Goodbye.”

  Jennifer pushed open one of the doors and left the hotel.

  Jack followed right behind her.

  Chapter Three

  The night was 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 ha
d 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.”