Jessica liked these little glimpses into who Jamie was. She liked it that he and his sister teased each other. Still, she felt a need to defend him. “Anyway, you are not! Hedonistic.”
“Yes, ma’am, I am. Self-centered and selfish. I work hard. I play harder. I’m allergic to domestic activities and responsibilities, hence the reason no turkey has ever filled my oven.”
Despite the lightness of Jamie’s tone, it was a warning to her, that was clear. He had already told her he saw her as a picket fence kind of girl, and he was letting her know he did not fit that kind of dream.
He was painting a picture of himself as the quintessential playboy.
And yet, looking at him, his shirt open at the throat, his sleeves rolled up, the sun on his silver hair and the exquisite lines of his face, she didn’t feel he had shown her one sign that he was selfish or self-centered. Still, she was aware a girl could change her dreams to fit his.
A girl could loosen her hold on the concept of forever and be willing to just take whatever he offered. It might actually be fun to not be the good girl, for once. She was in New York. She was a long way from home. Who would ever know if she had a little fling with a sexy man? She experienced a shiver of pure wanting when she thought of Jamie in those terms, when she thought of his lips claiming hers, his hands...
Stop it! She ordered herself.
Given their circumstances—his potential to be her boss, her forced stay in his quarters—she was entertaining very perilous thoughts, indeed.
When they turned away from the young boaters to walk again, she went over on her ankle ever so slightly because of the unfamiliar shoes. Despite the fact she knew she was flirting in general and flirting with danger in particular, when he reached out to steady her, she did not return his steadying arm to him when she should have.
No, she looped her arm though his—felt the surge of delight at being linked to him—as they moved along the pathway toward his building.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she said. “I’m not used to the shoes. I’m going to skin my nose if I don’t have you to lean on.”
He looked down at her for a long moment. He looked as if he wanted to warn her not to play with fire. Instead, he took a deep breath. “We wouldn’t want you to skin a cute little nose like that,” he said.
Cute. He thought she was cute. Or that her nose was. Cute was a long way from pretty. Or gorgeous. Or beautiful.
And yet she liked it very much that he thought her nose was cute.
And then he started humming, lean on me, and Jessica was glad she had silenced her good girl because she was not sure she had ever experienced a more perfect moment than that one, walking through Central Park on a sun-drenched day, in her new dress, with a gorgeous man on her arm.
One perfect moment was determined to follow another. She wore her new cocktail dress for the most exquisite dinner she had ever had. Whether it was the food, or Jamie’s company she wasn’t sure. He was so at ease in every situation, radiating confidence and good humor. Maybe his sister was right about him! He certainly seemed practiced at entertaining the opposite sex. Conversation with him seemed so easy. They talked about everything: books, recent movies, music they liked, travels they had experienced. Her travels were limited—only Copenhagen—but Jamie had been many places, both professionally and personally.
His anecdotes revealed him as a man with a rich sense of humor and a great verve for life.
He had gotten tickets to The Phantom of the Opera, which he told her was the longest running show in Broadway history. She was thrilled. But somehow, just as thrilling as going in to the show was standing in line with him at the Majestic Theatre, and seeing the admiring gazes he garnered. Jessica realized she was very much enjoying being mistaken for a couple.
She was also enjoying the sheer variety of the crowd. There was everything here from elderly couples to families, and even a school group.
“The variety of what people are wearing is amazing,” she whispered to Jamie. It was true, there was everything from men in tropical print Hawaiian shirts and shorts, to women in evening gowns.
“The really dressed up ones are tourists,” he whispered back.
“Am I overdressed?” she asked, feeling a bit of the magic slip away. “I haven’t had on anything this fancy since my prom.”
He cast an appreciative look over her, long enough and male enough that she felt herself starting to blush.
“You,” he said, softly, “are perfect. Ravishing.”
Just like that, the magic was back. Jamie Gilbert-Cooper thought she was ravishing!
When she shivered from the gruesome makeup on the phantom, Jamie assumed she was cold, and she found his suit jacket settling around her shoulders. It felt so nice that she did not correct him.
Jessica was not sure what she had been expecting from the show, but it was incredibly sensuous in places, and terrifying in others. When the chandelier “fell” into the audience she shrieked very unbecomingly. Jamie’s hand found hers and then he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her wrist.
Jessica was pretty sure her heart stop beating. She turned and looked at him, and very deliberately, he lifted her wrist to his lips again and kissed it.
It was not, to be sure, a wildly passionate kiss. It was more a reassurance: See? Nothing to be afraid of. I’m right here beside you.
And nothing felt frightening after that except maybe the wild beating of a heart going down a pathway it had never been down before.
Jessica Winton was not his type, Jamie told himself, for the umpteenth time. She was a small-town girl in a big-city world. Even dressed up in that
