A Sure Thing?

that mansion out myself, although if I'd known how much real estate and other goodies Barbie owns, I would have brought a mortgage broker along. That woman has everything. Boats, cars, campers, houses, horses, mansions, private jets, not to mention a very serious shoe fetish. After I was done in her aisle, I felt it was my manly duty to visit G.I. Joe and give him a head's-up as to what the deal was over on aisle ten. I told him, 'Dude, you need to ask this girl out.''

She couldn't help but laugh. 'Sounds like you and G.I. Joe had quite the bonding experience.'

'Yeah, we're buds. But Rachel's excitement isn't going to come close to the surprise Stacey and I have planned for our folks. A ten-day cruise around the Caribbean. They've wanted to go for years, but have always put it off.' His expression turned serious. 'The last few weeks have been incredibly hard on all of us, but especially on Mom and Dad. They need and deserve a vacation.'

'That's a great present.'

'They're great parents.'

He smiled, and Jilly smiled back. Something warm and fuzzy and more than a little scary seeped through her. Clearly there was more to Matt Davidson than the arrogant, brash competitor she'd spent the past year viewing him as. He was human. Had a disarming sense of humor. A family he clearly loved. He liked kids. Toy stores. He'd had his heart broken. And had lost his best friend. Liked chocolate-covered marshmallows. And had the sexiest smile she'd ever seen.

Realization slapped her like a wet towel to the face and her breath caught.

Oh, hell, she liked him.

She resisted the urge to thunk herself on the forehead. How stupid could she get, falling in like with the guy? Jeez. With all the technology out there, you'd think somebody could figure out a way to make her dislike him again. Bolstered from her conversation with Kate, she'd come to dinner determined to be cool and in control. But less than a half hour in, she was feeling all melty and warm and flustered.

'Well, now that you know more about me than you ever wanted to,' he said, yanking her out of her reverie, 'it's your turn.' He leaned forward and lightly brushed his fingertips over the back of her hand, shooting pleasurable shivers up her arm. 'How come someone so smart and talented and gorgeous, and who has such incredibly soft skin, doesn't have a boyfriend?'

She wanted, very much, to maintain her mantle of cool professionalism, but how could she hope to do so when the tingling feel and arousing sight of his fingers brushing over her hand melted her resolve like an ice cube tossed in boiling water? She should pull her hand away, she knew she should, but unable to resist the temptation of his touch, she instead shifted her hand a little closer to his. Unmistakable desire flared in his eyes, and he slowly explored her fingers with his own.

Forcing her mind to focus on his question, she said, 'I don't have a steady boyfriend for several reasons, the biggest one being that I just don't have the time to devote to a relationship. All my energies are focused on my career and establishing myself at Maxximum, and it seems all the men I date grow to resent that-and harbor this annoying tendency to try to take charge of my life. Relationships, I've found, are like houseplants. If you don't give them a lot of time and attention, they wither up and die. Which is why I don't do well with houseplants, either. And besides that, it's simply been a while since I've met a man who genuinely interested me.' Hello-what about him? her hormones screamed. We're genuinely interested in him.

Jilly wasn't sure if it was the wine, or the quiet understanding in his eyes, or the hypnotic brush of his fingers caressing her hand, or the fact that he'd given her some insight into himself and turn around was only fair, but the next thing she knew, she was telling him things she never thought she would. She talked about how her father had died of a heart attack at age thirty-six, leaving behind a sixteen-year-old Jilly and her thirty-five-year-old mother. How Dad's death had left her heartbroken, but had completely incapacitated her mother.

'She just couldn't cope,' Jilly said quietly. 'She'd loved him her whole life. They'd married right out of high school, and I came along pretty quickly. Dad was a mechanic-he could rebuild an entire engine with his eyes closed. They weren't rich, but he made a decent living, and my mom took to motherhood like a duck to water. Girl Scout leader, PTA, room mother, soccer mom, cooking, baking, crafts-she was a whiz at all that. But my dad took care of everything else, from the finances to the house maintenance. He always wanted to 'take care of his girls'…'

An image of her dad's smiling face flashed in her mind, bringing with it the same punch of loss that still hit her whenever she thought of him. 'He was so great. So outgoing, and strong, and vital. When he died… God, I can't describe the mind-numbing shock.'

'You don't have to,' he said quietly, his gaze resting on hers. He intertwined their fingers and gently squeezed. 'I know exactly how it feels to have the rug jerked out from under you that way. In a blink, your whole world changes. Everything's gone. And you just feel… helpless.'

'Exactly.' The understanding and sympathy reflected in his serious gaze, the warmth of his hands clasping hers, rushed a heady combination of gratitude and heated awareness through her.

'What happened after your dad died?' he asked.

'Everything fell apart. Except for a part-time job waitressing during high school, my mother had never had a job outside the house. She'd never balanced a checkbook, made out the bills, mowed the lawn, changed the oil in the car, filed a tax return. She was the greatest mom on earth, but she was woefully unprepared for life without the safety net my dad had always provided by 'taking care' of us. And she was so bogged down in grief, she just couldn't cope.'

'So you picked up the slack,' he said, his gaze filled with dawning comprehension.

'I had no choice. We were long on bills and short on money. I took a job at a boutique in the mall, and Mom went back to waitressing. I learned how to use-and fix-the lawnmower, maintain the car, repair the plumbing, balance the checkbook-all of it.' Jilly drew a deep breath, vividly recalling those lean, depressing, difficult years. 'I promised myself I would never be placed in the same untenable position as my mom. I was determined to go to college, build a successful career, and have all the skills and knowledge I needed so that I wasn't dependant on anyone.'

He smiled. 'It would appear that you successfully met your goal.'

She paused. Had she? To a certain degree, yes. She certainly didn't need anyone to take care of her. And her career was on the right track. But it suddenly occurred to her that she didn't have a partner to share her successes with. True, Jilly the ad executive was doing fine… but what about Jilly the woman?

Shoving the disturbing question aside, she said, 'I've accomplished a great deal, but not the level of financial security I want. There's always another challenge to reach for.'

'Like winning the ARC account.'

She looked into his eyes and a fissure of understanding and awareness passed between them. 'Yes.'

Silence stretched for several seconds, then he asked, 'How is your mom doing now?'

A smile pulled at Jilly's lips. 'Great. It was a long, arduous road for her, but my college graduation proved a turning point for her. She enrolled at the local community college six years ago, squeezing in classes between her shifts at the restaurant. She only needs twelve more credits to earn her business degree-then watch out, world! I'm really proud of her.'

'I bet she's proud of you, too.'

'Well, she is my mom-that's her job.'

The waiter arrived with their salads. Matt slowly released her hands, and she instantly missed the intimacy of his warm skin, the feel of his fingers gliding over hers. She blinked, feeling as if she were emerging from a cozy, intimate cocoon where she and Matt had somehow connected, whispering secrets like lovers in the dark.

The heat simmering in his gaze made the soles of her feet sweat and had her shifting in her seat. She glanced down at the salad the waiter had placed before her. Damn it, she didn't want salad. She wanted him. Naked. Aroused. Hot. Inside her.

The image barreled into her mind, knocking everything else aside. Fire whooshed through her, hardening her nipples.

'You okay?' he asked.

'I'm… fine.' Damn it, he was looking at her in the most disconcerting way-as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. But he didn't look smug about it. No, his expression appeared to say, Yeah, me too-and what the hell are we going to do about it?