Stolen Kisses

by Sally Falcon

  “I really couldn’t think of another way to approach you,” he continued, his hooded gaze masking his expression. He seemed intent on creating a pattern on her leg that seemed to be moving higher each second. Did he purposely let that shock of brown hair fall over his forehead, tempting her fingers to smooth it back in place?

  Was dignity really all that important? Jessie wondered wildly, closing her free hand into a fist around her spoon.

  “I think we’ll have a good partnership, an outstanding team.”

  Was it the way he said partnership or the triumphant gleam in his eyes when he looked up suddenly that broke the spell? Jessie wasn’t sure, but she knew that she was being stupid to even listen to him. She did what any self-respecting woman would do to protect herself. She dumped her parfait, directly on top of his head.

  While he was sputtering and wiping the gooey mess out of his eyes, she scrambled to her feet. “That’s how I feel about your juvenile deception. Much as I love this house, I’m not sure I can stand being in your company to do it,” she spat out, giving her irritation at him and herself free rein. “You may think you’re God’s gift to women, but you’re the last man I would want for a husband and to father my baby. You’re an irresponsible child yourself, so how could you be expected to raise one?”

  With that, she spun on her heel and stalked out of the house. A small smile of accomplishment curved her lips over the memory of Trevor’s stunned look. It was apparent he’d gotten his way much too often with the female population.

  The horror of what she had done didn’t hit her until she was strapping on her seat belt. But she didn’t regret it. In fact, when she visualized the look on Gina’s face tomorrow when she told her, she began to giggle helplessly. Ten minutes later, as she wiped the tears from her eyes, Jessie put the car in gear. This was undoubtedly the last time she would see Trevor Planchet.

  “What? No more sage advice on how to handle the delicate Southern woman?”

  Trevor could feel the heat beginning around the rim of his ears at Logan Herrington’s question late the next morning as they drove away from the Planchet house. The other man’s words drowned out Garth Brooks crooning “Shameless” and reminded him of his authoritative advice on how to handle women a few weeks ago.

  “I figured you’ve had plenty of practice by now. Of course, my sister isn’t exactly typical,” Trevor answered, not really sure about his views on any type of women this morning. Resisting the urge to check behind his ears for traces of crème de menthe, he waited for the northerner’s response.

  “I decided that your sister is probably the most stubborn, confusing woman I’ve ever met.” The older man didn’t seem to be too perturbed by the discovery.

  “I should introduce you to the queen of confusion.”

  “Pardon?”

  Trevor hadn’t realized he’d spoken out loud. It just showed how turned around he felt since meeting Jessie DeLord. He always thought he understood women as well as truly appreciated them. As a mature man of thirty-five, he genuinely enjoyed the company of women as friends as well as lovers. Women were the delight of his life, until recently. For the first time, he had some sympathy for his sister’s obnoxious ex-fiancé the night Tory poured a pitcher of beer over his head. The only saving grace about last night had been that there were no witnesses.

  “We don’t have to go buy my computer today if you don’t feel up to it.”

  “I feel fine, Logan. I just have a problem that needs to be worked out,” Trevor explained with more confidence than he felt.

  “It wouldn’t have anything to do with the raven-haired beauty you attacked at the Bushes’ party, would it?”

  Trevor glanced at the craggy features of his companion and grimaced at the laughter he saw lurking in his eyes. “Was that a lucky guess, Yankee, or has my sister been squealing on me?”

  “Your father, actually. He was asking me about what happened at the Bushes’ party and gave a fairly accurate description of a young woman I saw hiding from you behind a fig tree. That woman apparently bears a striking resemblance to his new decorator.”

  “You mean she was behind me when I was talking to you?” He practically groaned the question, slamming his hand against the steering wheel. Was it any wonder Jessie thought he was a jerk?

  “Hey, don’t abuse this car. Remember, it’s a classic,” Logan remarked, the thread of humor still in his voice. “So you’re having trouble with this—now how was it you put it?—this delicate flower who has to be gently nurtured.”

  “This one usually has the manners of an angel, but I discovered last night that she also has a temper that makes my sister look downright placid,” Trevor grumbled, rubbing the crook of his nose where his sister had accidently broken it when he was ten.

  “Does she have a name?”

  “Jessica DeLord, and she thinks I’m pond scum right now,” he informed the other man as he pulled into a parking place in front of the computer store. “In fact, I’m not fit to father her baby.” He climbed out of the car in jerky movements as he, yet again, relived the most humiliating moment of his life.

  “You are a fast worker.”

  “Not that fast,” Trevor returned wryly, pulling open the glass door to the store. “We’ve only had one lunch and a dinner together. I don’t know how we managed to fast-forward into marriage, much less curtain climbers. I’m trying not to think about that. It’s not that I don’t like kids, but right now my main concern is damage control. She was going to decorate my house.”

  “‘Was’?” Logan didn’t mask his interest, barely looking at the selection of portable computers on display around them.

  “She’s damn good, too. You should have seen the ideas that she’d come up with in a week, but—” He broke off, at a loss of how to explain what had happened without embarrassing himself any further.

  “But you really wouldn’t care if she was colorblind,” Logan diplomatically finished for him.

  “Exactly,” Trevor answered, giving his companion an appreciative smile. His confidence was beginning to return now that he had a sympathetic ear. There was nothing better than discussing the matter with another man to restore a guy’s equilibrium. “This thing about babies has me baffled; however, that isn’t my biggest problem right now. Everything else is academic until I can get her to speak to me again. On top of everything else, we have that damn car rally this weekend.”

  “Flowers, candy, or jewelry?”

  “Hey, I don’t know why they say Yankees can’t be romantic,” Trevor exclaimed. Logan’s words had triggered an inspiration. It certainly couldn’t put him in the dog house any further. How could she refuse a humble, sincere apology? He would be out of sight for the next three days while her temper cooled down. It was perfect.

  “Are you sure this baby thing isn’t a problem yet?” A frown of concern creased Logan’s forehead.

  “The only problem is why I don’t find the prospect so horrifying. If any other woman I know mentioned the B word, I would have run screaming in the other direction,” Trevor admitted a little sheepishly. He’d lain awake last night thinking about a miniature version of Jessie. It was incredible and yet terrifying. He also knew the idea was ridiculous to contemplate at this juncture of their relationship, if that’s what it could be called.

  Right now he had to get within at least shouting distance of the lady. He could hire another decorator, but he didn’t want to replace Jessie in his life until he could figure out why she had him so preoccupied. She might think he was on her reject list, but he was going to change her mind. All he had to do was figure out what he’d done wrong so far. As he quickly reviewed the past few weeks, he shuddered. What had he done right?

  Chapter Five

  “Excuse me, I’m looking for Jessica DeLord.”

  At the sound of her name, Jessie turned away from unlocking the door of Aesthetics, Ltd. A young woman stood before her carrying a large box sprouting balloons from a hole in the top. “That’s me. Would you wait a
minute while I unlock the door?”

  Jessie had just returned from an afternoon meeting with Grisham and Collins at the Planchet building. Within a matter of minutes, she had the door open, the answering machine switched off, and had instructed the delivery person to place the box on the closest flat surface. After absentmindedly tipping the young woman, Jessie simply stared at the package, almost afraid to open it. With Gina gone for a doctor’s appointment, she was tempted to toss out the box before her partner returned. She could think of only one person who would think to send balloons.

  “Let’s see, they run water on packages that are suspected to carry explosives, don’t they?” she murmured, moving to view the box from the other side as if it might be an incendiary device. After another two minutes of indecision, she gave up. “Don’t be such a weenie, DeLord.”

  “Hey, you got me a present and you haven’t even heard my news yet.” Gina’s voice rang out just as Jessie pulled a familiar item from the box. “Then again, maybe you didn’t. Isn’t that your tote bag?”

  “Yes, it is. I left it at the Dalrymple house last night.” Why did Trevor do these things to her? Until a few weeks ago, her life had been so sane, so normal.

  “How come I feel like I came in during the middle of the movie?”

  One look at Gina’s hands-on-hip pose told Jessie she was going to have trouble, again. Jessie hadn’t quite gotten around to telling her partner the identity of the homeowner and had thought she might in another month or two. Maybe it would be much simpler to tell her about Trevor this morning.

  “Aren’t you going to see what else is in the box?” Gina asked.

  “What else?” Already composing her explanation about last night, Jessie had forgotten about the package.

  “Those balloons are being anchored by something.” Gina nodded her head toward the miniature silver dirigibles that had multicolored expressions of remorse written across their surfaces.

  What could he have sent besides her tote bag? Jessie tilted the box cautiously to the side and peeked inside. A plush blue-and-white lop-eared rabbit was peering up at her over the rim of black plastic glasses. The balloons were securely held in one paw, an envelope filling the other. She grabbed the rodent by its chubby waist and let the box slide to the floor. The, three-foot rabbit sat on the table, resplendent in his white vest and pocket watch.

  “He’s adorable. So why did Trevor send him?”

  “How did you know who sent it?” Jessie asked without thinking, and bit her lip in vexation as Gina rolled her eyes. Instead of saying anything else incriminating, she tore open the envelope. The distinctive masculine scrawl asked her to forgive him for his clumsiness and his subterfuge in getting her to decorate the house. Two entire paragraphs praised her talents, then he humbly asked her to continue working on the house. He would live up to the agreement, if that was what it took to keep her on the job.

  “What agreement? Jesssieeeeee.” Gina drew out her friend’s name to show the level of her frustration at being left in the dark. She didn’t bother to look guilty about reading over her partner’s shoulder. “Does this mean Trevor Planchet owns the Dalrymple house? The man is a true romantic.”

  “‘Romantic’? You call lying and scheming romantic?” She shook her head in dismay but couldn’t keep from running her forefinger down one of the rabbit’s fuzzy ears. Just as Trevor had intended, she had a clear memory of the night they met. The man definitely had his own unique style, she admitted reluctantly; however, that was something she was going to keep to herself.

  “Lying and scheming can be romantic when there’s a good motive,” Gina asserted before picking up the rabbit and depositing him squarely on Jessie’s desk. “The man is obviously smitten.”

  “‘Smitten’? Are you getting enough oxygen to your brain?”

  “Okay. He has the hots for you, and you’re a fool if you don’t give him a chance to prove that he isn’t the louse you imagine.” She turned to Jessie, her expression grim. “If you don’t promise to give Trevor Planchet one more chance, I’m not going to let you be the godmother to my child. I need someone with brains for that job.”

  “Gina, this really— Godmother? What are you talking about?”

  “My doctor’s appointment and the indigestion I’ve been having lately,” she explained simply, a smile blossoming across her face. Almost on reflex, her hand covered her stomach. “I’m pregnant a year ahead of schedule, and it’s all your fault.”

  “I don’t think I had anything to do with this,” Jessie returned, but ruined her perplexed look by hugging her friend. Pulling away, she said very seriously, “I think Jeff is the one to blame.”

  “He isn’t the one who started talking about babies nonstop three months ago.” Gina leaned her hip against the desk and crossed her arms over her chest, her schoolmarm look firmly in place. “You were the one who pointed out that there was an epidemic of pregnancy among our friends. That was what set off this idea that you wanted to have a baby before it was too late, which led to the insane plans of yours to find the perfect husband to be the father.”

  “Well, we did go to five baby showers in a row, and all the prospective mothers were over thirty,” Jessie admitted. “You, however, were the one who saw the talk show about older women having babies and the two women who decided they should go for the whole works—career, husband, and a baby. You even bragged that you had four more years before the panic age of forty.”

  “I thought it was incredible that anyone would go to those lengths, especially women who are old enough to know better. You weren’t supposed to take it so seriously.” Gina’s accusing look made Jessie shift her feet from side to side uneasily. “The next thing I knew, you were hip deep in those silly books on pregnancy for older women and dating in the nineties. So, it is your fault. I got pregnant by osmosis.” Gina smiled in triumph at her brilliant theory.

  “I give up.” Jessie threw her hands up in a show of surrender. Her partner was one of the most difficult people to argue with once she got an idea into her head. Maybe a nice cup of tea would get them settled for the rest of the afternoon, Jessie decided as she walked toward the credenza.

  “And?”

  The single word stopped Jessie halfway to her destination. She glanced over her shoulder to inquire, “And what?”

  “You’re going to give Trevor a chance to make amends by continuing to work on the Dalrymple house.”

  Jessie turned to face her friend; however, her glance fell on the blue-and-white rabbit first. If Trevor kept to her rules, there really wouldn’t be a problem. It was a big if, she knew. Or was it wishful thinking on her part that he wouldn’t? her traitorous little inner voice asked. Unwilling to consider the matter, she looked at her partner’s belligerent expression. “All right, I will work on the Dalrymple house. That’s all I’m going to promise.”

  There was a lengthy silence as the two women regarded each other, each almost challenging the other to relent. Gina gave in first. “Well, it’s a start,” she said grudgingly before heading toward her own desk. “But don’t think I’m not going to check up on how you’re treating the poor man. I’m griping for two now.”

  Poor man, my foot. Jessie almost said the words out loud, gazing at the innocent rabbit on the desk. Inwardly she sighed over her friend’s lack of sympathy. How was she going to hold out against a rogue like Trevor Planchet without an ally? She couldn’t protect herself against his practiced assaults if no one was going to come to her defense. Unfortunately, she seemed to be weakening.

  Pouring herself a hot cup of tea, she wondered if her mother had felt the same way all those years ago. Was that why she let her father hurt her over and over again until the final separation, because she couldn’t stay angry at her husband? A shiver skated down Jessie’s spine, and she knew that it was an omen of dangerous times again. Her emotions were already in a chaotic state, and the man had sent her only a silly rabbit.

  At least Gina hadn’t asked for any details about last night, so he
r juvenile behavior was still a secret.

  Trevor stood on the doorstep at nine o’clock, wondering what he was doing. When he’d left the rally planning meeting at Curtiss’s, his car seemed to have had a mind of its own. Since he had a few days off due to the car rally, he could have stayed with the others for a relaxing evening. At their protests, he told his friends that he wanted to turn in early for a change and be fresh for the rally weekend.

  So why was he standing on Jessie’s doorstep? Was that what Logan’s cryptic thumbs-up signal had meant before he left the house? Had the other man known what he was going to do before Trevor himself? It really didn’t matter. He was here now, so he had to do something about it.

  Before he could reconsider, he pressed his thumb to the doorbell. She couldn’t think he was any more of an idiot than she did already. So why did he have the urge to run when he didn’t hear any sounds from behind the door?

  Time seemed to stand still. He knew she had enough time to reach the door and check through the peep hole; in fact, he stood back so she would have a clear view. Still, the door didn’t open. Just as he was about to give up hope, the porch light went on. A second later he heard the bolt turn and the door began to inch open.

  “Hello.” That was all he could manage at the surprising sight of Jessie dressed in baggy brilliant-orange sweats. Damn, she looked like a blue blood even in misshapen clothes and a ponytail. His taut muscles relaxed. She was alone. Without realizing it, he’d been wondering if she might have had company, of the male variety.

  “Trevor.” Her husky voice washed over him, soothing his erratic nerves. She didn’t sound surprised or angry. He hoped he didn’t do anything inadvertently to change that.

  “I was on the way home from a meeting at my brother’s house out on Highway Ten and thought I’d stop in to get your answer in person.” Why not tell her everything you did today? he chided himself.