Of course, he broke up with them when they tried to get serious. Their brothers believed in the old ‘eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, dumped sister for a dumped sister’ philosophy and came to romance and reject me as vengeance against Steve.”
“Did they succeed?” Rand asked quietly.
“No.” Jamie shook her head. A flash of disillusionment shadowed her eyes. “I found out what was going on before I could be hurt. Steve wasn’t even surprised it happened. He said he’d do the same for me, and if I ever got dumped I should let him know.”
“I know hell hath no fury like a woman scorned and all that, but somehow I can’t see you unleashing your Don Juan brother on a mission of vengeance against some guy’s unsuspecting sister.”
“I’d have to get dumped First, wouldn’t I?” Jamie said coolly. “And that’s not going to happen.” She gazed at him steadily. “I didn’t meet you till you came into the Merlton Library. How did you know about me?”
Rand took a deep breath. “1 know Daniel Wilcox, Jamie. And he hasn’t exactly been reticent about wanting to go out with you. When I heard you’d unequivocally turned him down, I became curious about you.”
“So you came to Merlton to check out the woman who wouldn’t date your dentist?”
“I know it sounds ridiculous, Jamie.”
“It certainly does. Too ridiculous to be true.”
“Jamie, it’s the truth! I found it hilarious that Wilcox couldn’t get a date with a librarian, so I came to Merlton expecting to have a good laugh. Then I saw you.” His voice deepened roughly. “And the laugh was on me. I took one look at you and felt as if I’d been kicked in the gut, I wanted you so much.”
Was she losing her grip on reality or did his story actually have a ring of truth to it? Jamie wondered. She wanted to believe him, so much it scared her. On full alert now, the tough practical side of her nature abruptly suppressed the hopeful romantic within her.
“Well, a rich man like you might get a temporary kick out of consorting with the working class, but I’m under no illusions that it would be anything but short-lived.”
“So now it’s a class conflict between us,” growled Rand.
“We’re all wrong for each other,” Jamie said firmly. The facts were all there; if only she could convince herself to believe them!
“So you keep saying.” Rand’s tawny gold eyes gleamed with masculine challenge. “Fast hot sex versus true love. Blue blood versus blue collar.” He took a step toward her. “Can you come up with anything else?”
“Isn’t that enough?” A sudden wave of danger coupled with a churning excitement streaked through her. She tried to still her racing pulse by sheer force of will. It didn’t work. “I want to go home now, Rand. I’ll call my grandmother and Saran.”
“Not just yet.” Rand closed the gap between them.
Jamie gasped softly at the contact of his warm, hard body. His hands moved slowly, tantalizingly down the length of her back to her hips, melding every inch of her intimately against him.
“I don’t think our differences are all that insurmountable,” he drawled softly, nuzzling the sensitive curve of her neck. “Not when we want each other so much.”
Jamie caught her breath as he curved his fingers deeply into her rounded bottom at the same moment his teeth closed lightly around the lobe of her ear. Flames of fiery excitement licked her abdomen. “I won’t go to bed with you,” she insisted with a breathless, soft moan.
“I know. Not until I’ve courted you.” Rand smiled against her lips, then nibbled sensuously at them. “And so I’ve decided to give this courtship thing a shot. I’m beginning now, with the good-night kiss. Minus the doorstep and the glaring porch light.”
His mouth closed over hers, hot and forceful, and Jamie arched against him, quivering with wild pleasure at his touch. She seemed to become more sensitized each time he kissed her, her response coming faster and hotter, her control slipping faster and farther away.
She locked her arms around his neck and kissed him back, her passion escalating to match and meet his own. When he finally tore his mouth from hers, it was to string a chain of hungry, stinging kisses along the length of her throat, pausing at the rapidly beating pulse in the tender hollow.
He groaned. “We’re dynamite together. Are you sure you don’t want to skip the miniature golf games and all the rest and head straight for the bedroom?”
Jamie chuckled unsteadily. “I’m sure.” She rubbed her nose against his in a spontaneous gesture of affection. She was elated. Finally, there were no more lies standing between them. He’d been honest with her, and he’d just agreed that he was willing to work toward a relationship based on respect, friendship and trust, instead of aiming for a quick fling based solely on sex.
She felt closer to him, as if the passionate emotional fire of their kiss had melted away the barriers that stood between them. It was a relief to stop fighting him, an even bigger relief to end the battle with herself. Jamie put aside her caution and ambivalence. She was going to see Rand Marshall, to date him, to get to know him.
And then... Jamie stared up at him with dreamy eyes. Did she dare allow herself to believe that their future held the possibility of what she’d always dreamed of? A deep, mutual love to last a lifetime?
She has bedroom eyes, thought Rand as desire slashed through him. He imagined her gazing up at him with those big, gorgeous blue eyes of hers as she lay in his bed, hungry and open for him. A courtship, ridiculous and old-fashioned as it might be, was definitely worth his time and energy if it meant realizing his goal: to make love to Jamie Saraceni.
His dreams of the future included the arousing, provocative scene of the two of them entwined in ecstasy on his king-size water bed in his black and white bedroom.
It was unusual for the American Public Library Association’s annual conference to generate any news, but this year an account of its opening meeting made page two in the Philadelphia newspaper, and Jamie read it intently. As the Merlton Library’s limited budget did not include a single dime for traveling funds, she’d been unable to attend the Dallas conference. But she was keenly interested in the proceedings, for this year’s agenda was to include the problem of libraries being used as day-care centers.
Her eyes flicked to her own group of library latchkey kids, who were scattered around the library, the younger ones playing in the toy corner, the older ones seated at tables doing homework or reading books. It had been difficult to get them settled down today; they’d all been infected with Friday afternoon, living-for-the-weekend fever. Jamie had a mild case of it herself.
She turned back to the article. Some libraries in the big cities, where hundreds of children might seek refuge daily, had restricted access by allowing no children into the library unless accompanied by an adult. Others had gone even farther and warned that leaving unsupervised children could result in abandonment charges.
The measures seemed unduly punitive to Jamie, but she could understand the concern to protect library liability. Since she’d begun her unofficial program, the number of children spending after-school hours here had doubled. Fortunately, Merlton was a small town, and the numbers were still manageable. But suppose they increased to crisis proportions? Jamie reread the article, looking for an answer. Unfortunately, it only reported the facts and offered no solutions.
She was so lost in thought that she jumped back with a gasp when a hardcover book was slammed down on the desk in front of her. She jerked her head up, and her blue eyes connected with Rand Marshall’s teasing brown ones. “You startled me,” she said breathlessly.
“You nearly jumped out of your skin,” Rand corrected. “What were you daydreaming about?” His grin widened. “Or perhaps it’s who!”
“I was wondering what are the alternatives to turning librarians into baby-sitters.” Her blue eyes sparkled. She was thrilled to see him. Since he’d left her at her door last night most of her thoughts, excluding the ones centering on her young patrons, had been o
f him.
“Wrong answer, honey. When a man asks you who you’re daydreaming about, you’re supposed to say his name. Here. It’s all in the book.” Rand handed her the book he’d banged down on the desk. “I found it in the bookstore this morning. Maybe you need it more than I do.”
The book’s title, Guide to a Modern, Old-Fashioned Courtship, made Jamie smile. She gazed brightly up at Rand. “Have you read it?”
“I read chapter one. It suggested giving memorable little gifts in the beginning of the courtship, something whimsical like helium-filled Mylar balloons or something traditional, like flowers or candy. But remembering what happened to the luckless Daniel’s tokens of esteem, I decided against that route. I’m donating my traditional and whimsical items directly to their eventual recipients. So here’s a box of milk chocolate butter creams for your grandmother.” He laid a beautifully designed pound box of candy on the desk. “And—”
He stepped into the vestibule and returned a moment later with two dozen colorful Mylar balloons on long strings. “Here, kids,” he called out. “They’re all yours.” The children descended upon him, grabbing for the balloons. “Okay, gang,” he said heartily. “Let’s see you work off some of that end-of-the-week energy. Take your balloons outside and run around the library a few times.”
“It’s chilly—” Jamie began.
“It’s fifty degrees and sunny,” countered Rand, but he called to the children. “Wear your coats, kids. Uncle Rand doesn’t want anybody to catch cold.” He lowered his voice to add for Jamie’s ears only, “But he sure does want to get rid of the little tykes to steal a few minutes alone with the librarian.”
Jamie flushed a delicate pink. The kids charged boisterously out the door, balloons bobbing in the air.
“Uncle Rand?” she echoed, making a valiant attempt to sound nonchalant. His virile, compelling masculine presence made her feel uncharacteristically giddy and high-strung.
“The book says that if your courtship partner likes children and animals, it’s a good idea to show how well you get along with the little critters. Yesterday I impressed you with my devotion to kittens, namely Reebok. Today, I’m trying to wow you with my natural, genial way with kids. Are you wowed?”
She smiled. “Oh, definitely, Uncle Rand.”
“Great. Now can we skip ahead to chapter five? That’s when we allow ourselves to get carried away by our mutual passion and proceed directly to the bedroom.”
Jamie laughed; she couldn’t help herself. The man was outrageous and incorrigible. And he was very hard to resist. “Sorry, but I never skip chapters. I never read the ending of a book until the very end, either.”
“That figures.” He shrugged. “Well, since you won’t go to bed with me yet, come with me to the Blarney Stone tomorrow. It’s the place to be on St. Patrick’s Day, even if you’re not Irish. They have Irish songs and authentic corned beef and cabbage, not to mention green beer, Irish whiskey and Irish coffee.”
“I’d love to go. But be sure to wear green tomorrow, or Mom won’t let you into the house,” Jamie warned playfully. “She’s full-blooded Irish. Her maiden name was O’Reilly, and she takes St. Patrick’s Day very seriously.”
He’d managed to put out of his mind the obligatory rite of politely interacting with her family when he picked her up for their date. Rand suppressed a sigh. The rules of courtship weren’t easy at all. But keeping his end goal in mind, he merely smiled and said lightly, “So you’re half Irish and half Italian. An interesting combination. Italian passion and Irish fire.”
“I’ve always considered myself a practical, dependable, in-control American.”
Rand’s eyes gleamed. “I like my imagery better.” He checked his watch. “I have a few errands to run before I pick you up tonight. I’ll be here at six.”
“Tonight?” She stared at him. “We—we don’t have a date tonight.”
“We do now.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead lightly before heading to the door. “See you at six,” he called jauntily.
Jamie gulped. “Rand, I can’t go out with you tonight.” That stopped him dead in his tracks. She swallowed again, harder. “I already have plans.”
His smile faded, and the warmth abruptly drained from his eyes, leaving them a glittering shade of gold. “We played this scene last night, Jamie. I was a good sport and accommodated myself to your plans. Now it’s your turn to do the same for me.”
“But I can’t—”
“If you have a date, break it,” he growled. “I won’t tolerate you seeing other men.” The words slipped out, words that cool, casual Rand Marshall had never felt the need to say. The fact that he’d said them now stunned him, alarmed him, too. But he didn’t retract them.
“I don’t have a date, not with a man,” Jamie said quickly. “Some of my friends and I—”
“Girlfriends?” At her nod Rand smiled, the tension draining from him. “Oh, well, if you’re just going out with the girls, it’s no big deal. Call them and tell them you have a date. Girls understand that men come first in their friends’ lives.”
Jamie’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know what kind of women you’ve been spending time with, but I happen to value my friends. We made these plans weeks ago, and I can’t back out. It’s one of my oldest and closest friend’s birthday, and three of us are taking her out to dinner.”
“If it’s her birthday, I guess you can’t back out,” Rand conceded with a long-suffering sigh. He didn’t bother to mention the time that a woman he’d been dating for just two weeks had passed up attending her brother’s wedding to take a weekend jaunt to the Bahamas with him. Jamie not only wouldn’t approve, she’d likely take offense.
“I want you to understand that I’m not pleased, Jamie. This is the first time in my life that a woman has chosen to spend an evening with her girlfriends over an evening with me.”
“Then too many women have spoiled you,” Jamie said archly. “You can’t expect everybody to rearrange their schedules to suit yours.”
“Do you know who you sounded like just now?” Rand frowned fiercely. “Didactic, prim and righteous Martha Elizabeth Healy, the scourge of my elementary school years. She was the insufferable girl, every class in every school has one, whom the teachers always picked to sit at their desks when they left the room to write down the names of the students who misbehaved.”
“Hmm, let me guess. You always misbehaved, and Martha Elizabeth always wrote down your name. And to add insult to injury, you couldn’t charm her into erasing it.” Jamie laughed.
Much to Rand’s consternation, Jamie was right. Now, as a free-thinking, free-living adult, he was about to willingly embark on a courtship of a Martha Elizabeth clone?
He felt trapped, thwarted and wildly frustrated. By the time he’d driven to his house, he’d also talked himself into
feeling insulted. When Daniel Wilcox phoned an hour later to offer him a blind date, a model, just Rand’s type, Rand decided that he had every right and every reason to go.
Seven
Jamie and her friends, Angela Kelso, Romaine Abramovic and Charlene Spencer, claimed a table for four at Darby’s and opened the oversize menus sporting watercolor illustrations and calligraphy script. The place was crowded, noisy and smoky with the Friday night revelers in full swing. Jamie tried not to wish she weren’t here. After all, it was Angela’s twenty-fifth birthday, a milestone of sorts, and Jamie and Romaine and Charlene had agreed to treat her to the meal of her choice at the restaurant of her choice. After dinner, Angela had insisted upon coming here, and in keeping with the spirit of birthday indulgence, they’d all complied.
“I think I’ll have the amaretto ice cream float,” Angela said, laying down her menu to gaze searchingly through the crowd lining the bar, which was elevated on a platform and surrounded by a thick brass rail. “It’s too delicious to pass up. And it is my birthday,” she added, a trifle defensively.
Jamie’s eyes connected with Romaine’s, but neither spoke a word. I
t was Charlene who said frankly, “You can’t really want a big ice cream drink after that huge meal we just had, Ange. Why not have diet soda instead?”
“Why don’t you come right out and say it, Charlene?” Angela cried, flushing. “You think I’m fat!”
Jamie winced. Over the years, she’d watched Angela go from a slightly plump child to a chubby adolescent to finally evolve into a young woman, at least thirty pounds overweight, who was alternately depressed and defiant about it. Jamie and Romaine judiciously shied away from mentioning Angela’s weight problem. Charlene didn’t.
Fortunately, the waitress arrived to take their orders and the subject was dropped. Jamie and Charlene ordered diet sodas, Romaine a glass of white wine and Angela, rather defiantly, the amaretto ice cream float.
“You’re not going to believe who just walked in,” Romaine said, lowering her voice, though the band was so loud she could have shouted and still not have been overheard. “The Cherry Hill heartthrob himself, Daniel E. Wilcox, D.D.S.”
“He’s here? Are you sure?” Angela turned scarlet and dug into her purse to nervously remove her compact, lipstick and comb.
“You knew he was going to come here tonight, didn’t you, Angie?” guessed Charlene. “That’s why you were so insistent that we stop here.”
“I know he often comes here on weekends.” Angela was primping frantically. “I—I thought there was a chance that he might be here. Oh, God, how does my hair look? Is my eyeliner smeared?”
“You look fine, Ange,” Romaine said soothingly.
Jamie suppressed a groan. Not Daniel Wilcox! The weeks of his unwanted pursuit had strained her relationship with Angela, and Jamie regretted the awkwardness that had sprung up between them because of it. She’d hoped that it would swiftly dissolve when Wilcox stopped pestering her.
Now they were all here together, and she couldn’t guess what was going to happen next.
Charlene was facing the crowd and gave a report to the others at the table. “Brace yourself, Angela. Your dream boat dentist is here with someone. A blonde. Tall, gorgeous. Great clothes. She looks like a model.”
Rule Breaker Page 9
