But there was a lot more going on here than that. He’d seen the shadow of pain in Janice’s eyes during her dissertation. Someone, or maybe more than one someone, had used and abused her in some manner in the past.
There were walls... yes, protective walls around her that she’d no doubt carefully constructed, that were bigger and stronger than just a pair of unflattering glasses.
Janice wasn’t just keeping men at arm’s length, she held the world at bay, not trusting nor believing in anyone who crossed her path.
A surge of hot fury consumed him.
Who had done this to Janice? What exactly had she been subjected to, and when had it all happened? Oh, man, he’d like to get his hands on whoever was responsible for hurting her.
And what was it going to take to get Janice to lower those walls of hers, to trust and believe in him?
Whoa, Sinclair, he thought. An even more appropriate question was, why it mattered so much to him that Janice knew that she could trust him.
Hell, he sure didn’t know the answer to that one. Well, he’d concentrate on the why later. At the moment, his concern was how to chip away at those protective walls of Janice’s.
Trust me, Janice, Taylor thought dryly. Yeah, right. That was a cliché, would cause the women he knew to fall apart laughing at the absurdity of such a dumb statement. It was an old, overused line in the singles scene.
It was going to take action, not words, to gain Janice’s trust. Okay, what kind of action? Man, oh, man, he was treading on foreign territory here. He’d never met anyone like Janice before. He didn’t have the foggiest idea as to what he was doing.
Think, Sinclair. Well, if he wanted Janice to trust him he had to give her something in return, something to hold on to.
Honesty.
He had to be absolutely, one hundred percent, flat out honest with her at all times
“Janice,” he said.
She pushed the food around on her plate, not raising her head to respond.
“I just want you to know,” Taylor said, “that I would never attempt to take advantage of you or... What I mean is, I wouldn’t treat you like a...a marionette or... I’m trying to say that you’re... that I’m... Well, hell, I’m a complete fumble mouth here.” He paused. “Would you look at me, please?”
Janice shifted her gaze slowly from her plate to look directly into Taylor’s eyes. He nearly groaned aloud when he saw the lingering shadows of pain still reflected in her expressive blue eyes.
He reached over and covered one of her hands with his where it rested on the top of the table.
“I’m trying to avoid telling you that you can trust me,” he said quietly. “But I’m doing a lousy job of finding another way to put it.”
“Taylor, I—”
“No, don’t say anything. I don’t expect you to believe me right off the bat. Just give me a chance to prove it to you.”
“Why? I trust you as my accountant, but you’re speaking about more than that, aren’t you? Why, Taylor?”
“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.” Taylor shook his head. “It’s important to me, that’s all I’m certain of right now. You’ve obviously been hurt very badly in the past, and I have no intention of being on the list with those who caused you pain.
“Give me a chance to know you better. Don’t shut me out. Don’t hide behind your protective walls, refuse to see who I really am. Okay?”
No! Janice’s mind screamed. No! It’s too dangerous. Taylor is dangerous. The whole scenario he’s proposing is dangerous. No!
Taylor began to stroke her wrist with his thumb, as he continued to look directly into her eyes.
Heat traveled up Janice’s arm and danced across her breasts, causing them to feel heavy, aching for a soothing touch.
The heat increased, swirling lower in her body, lower, beginning to pulse in the same steady tempo as Taylor’s thumb on her soft skin.
She couldn’t breathe.
She couldn’t think.
Oh, dear heaven, what was this man doing to her?
“Janice?” Taylor said. “Will you do it? Give me a chance to be a man in your life, as well as your accountant?”
No! she thought frantically.
“Yes,” she heard herself whisper.
Chapter Six
The waiter materialized from behind the screen to discuss the dessert menu and Janice nearly flung her arms around the man in gratitude. She jerked her hand free from beneath Taylor’s.
“Janice?” Taylor said.
“No. No, thank you,” she said, looking everywhere except at Taylor.
“How about coffee and brandy?” he said.
“What? Oh, yes, that would be fine.” Janice pushed back her chair and got to her feet. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.” She snatched her purse from the floor and hurried away.
Taylor placed the order, the waiter nodded, then disappeared. A young girl appeared a few moments later and began to remove the dinner dishes. Taylor leaned back in his chair to get out of the way, his thoughts centered on Janice.
Ms. Jennings was jangled, he mused. She’d literally bolted out of their cubbyhole, having managed not to meet his gaze again after agreeing to allow him a role in her life other than just being her accountant.
Janice, he assumed, was attempting to soothe her rattled state of mind in the ladies’ room. What was she thinking? Would she return to the table and announce that she’d reconsidered? That he was once again not a man, but only an accountant?
Taylor narrowed his eyes.
No way, lovely Janice. A deal was a deal, and he was going to hold her to it.
Now what? Well, he should put into motion opportunities to see Janice, to be with her, beyond discussing the financial future of Sleeping Beauty.
But he’d have to take this slow and easy. Janice was like a skittish colt, a timid, wounded little bird, a—
Enough of the cute metaphors, Sinclair.
While he had this time alone, he should be asking himself why he was doing this, why he’d been so determined to get Janice to agree to expand his place in her life.
And why he’d felt a surge of pure joy when she’d whispered the “yes” that he’d been barely able to hear.
But he didn’t know the answers to those nagging questions.
All he knew was that they mattered, more than he could even begin to explain to himself.
You could be lonely even as we speak and not even know it.
“Oh, no, you don’t, Hamilton,” Taylor said under his breath as Brandon’s words echoed in his mind.
Wanting to be with Janice did not, in any way, indicate that he was lonely, that he was hoping she would fill some void in his existence.
That was absurd.
He was not lonely!
His life was exactly the way he wanted it.
His momentary preoccupation with Janice Jennings was due to...yes, okay, it was coming to him now...due to her being like no woman he’d ever met before. She intrigued him, was a challenging puzzle he intended to solve.
Did that sound tacky?
No, it was rational reasoning.
Did he want Janice to trust him in order to satisfy a rush of male ego by being the one to get beyond those protective walls of hers?
Now that would definitely be tacky.
Taylor shook his head.
No, this wasn’t a game he was playing based on an overdose of machismo.
Janice had touched him deep inside in a place that was new, foreign, to him. A knot had tightened in his gut when he saw the pain in her beautiful eyes, and fury had rushed through him like hot, molten lava.
One truth was crystal clear.
He would never do anything to hurt Janice Jennings.
In the powder room, Janice ran her hands under cold water. She stared at the wrist where Taylor’s. thumb had stroked in that maddening rhythm, having the strange sense that the soft skin belonged to someone else.
It was still warm, she thought incredul
ously. The water was becoming icy cold and she could still feel the heat, the incredible heat, that had traveled throughout her entire body from the caress of Taylor’s thumb.
Janice turned off the water, dried her hands, disposed of the paper towel, then finally forced herself to meet her own gaze in the mirror.
“What have you done?” she said softly, hearing the trembling in her voice and seeing the pallor of her cheeks.
In one heart-stopping moment, when she’d said the tiny word “yes,” she’d shaken the very structure of her existence.
The protective walls she’d so carefully constructed around herself years before were teetering, threatening to crumble into dust, leaving her exposed and vulnerable.
“I can’t do this,” she said, unwelcome tears misting her eyes. “It’s too dangerous, too...”
Stop it, she ordered herself in the next instant. She was no longer a child. She was a woman. She was in charge, in control. She was retreating back in time to when she didn’t have the strength, nor the wisdom, to keep from being manipulated, used for others’s gain.
Well, that was then and this is now.
She didn’t know why Taylor Sinclair was so determined that she allow him to be more in her life than just her accountant. She didn’t have the foggiest idea what his motives were.
But, darn it, she could handle this.
No matter what was brewing in Taylor’s complicated, male mind, he couldn’t take advantage of her in any way, shape or form, because she simply wouldn’t allow it.
However, for a short length of time—for Taylor would lose interest in her very quickly, of course—she might actually step into the world of “dating,” looking just as she did now, on her terms.
Yes, that would be nice.
Perhaps they’d dine again in a fancy restaurant like this one. Or attend a concert. Or go on a picnic.
Janice watched her smiling reflection in the mirror.
It had been so many years since she’d gone anywhere with a man. It would be a pleasant interlude, hours stolen out of time.
If he attempted to seduce her, hustle her into bed, he’d grow weary, perhaps even angry, at her constant refusals.
Janice laughed. “You’re dreaming, silly person.”
A man like Taylor Sinclair would have no desire to make love with someone who looked like she did. There was nothing alluring about the way she presented herself.
But that realization brought her right back to the extremely confusing question of why Taylor was so determined to be viewed as a man in her eyes, instead of just her accountant.
“Beats me,” she said, shrugging. “I don’t know. I don’t care.”
With a decisive nod, she spun around and left the powder room.
Janice slid back onto her chair at the table just as the waiter was leaving after delivering cups of coffee and snifters of brandy.
“I timed that perfectly, didn’t I?” she said, smiling. “Now then, Taylor, don’t you think we should discuss whatever is on your mind regarding Sleeping Beauty? We’ll be here until the restaurant closes if we don’t get down to business. You have the floor, Mr. Sinclair.”
Interesting, Taylor thought, looking at Janice intently. Whatever Janice had talked over with herself in the ladies’ room had resulted in her now being calm, cool and collected.
It was becoming difficult as hell to keep up with this woman!
But so be it. A smiling Janice was far better than the upset Janice who had practically run from the table.
“Taylor?”
“Oh, yes, the subject of Sleeping Beauty,” he said, snapping back to attention. “Okay, here it is. You have far too much money sitting in the bank earning very low interest. Those profit monies are costing you a bundle in taxes, too. You need to invest in something that will reduce your taxable income.”
Janice took a sip of coffee, then replaced the china cup on the saucer.
“Such as?” she said. “I’ve told you that I’ve expanded as much as possible in my present location. It would be foolish to move from where my customer base expects to find me.”
“That’s true. I’m proposing a location in addition to the one you now have.”
“Oh, I don’t think—”
“Just hear me out, all right?” Taylor interrupted.
“This is a very unique opportunity and would be perfect for you. Will you listen with an open mind?”
“Yes. Certainly. Proceed.”
“Good. I grew up in Prescott, and so did a close friend of mine named Brandon Hamilton.”
Taylor explained the restoration of Hamilton House, the success the hotel was enjoying, and Brandon and Andrea’s plans for adding specialty shops in the lobby of the grand old hotel.
“I spoke with Brandon today,” he went on. “and the architect has presented some dynamite plans, incorporating a lot of Andrea’s ideas. There will be a narrow cobblestone walkway in front of the shops, with old-fashioned. lampposts. The stores will be small, of course, but with carefully selected inventories.”
Janice nodded as she felt a bubble of excitement begin to grow within her.
“It sounds charming,” she said. “Like a turn of the century village to match the Victorian decor of the hotel you described”
“Exactly,” Taylor said, leaning toward her slightly. “Brandon and Andrea are being very careful about who they’re inviting to come in there. The shops must be exclusive, classy and expensive. Sleeping Beauty most definitely qualifies.
“They would be in a position to get potential managers for you to interview from people Brandon knows. Andrea would handle the advertising as she has started her own firm in Prescott. Would that be a problem with the agency you have a contract with now?”
“No, not at all. I have a clause that limits my obligation to them to my Phoenix store. I put that in the contract at the last minute, although I really don’t know why.”
Taylor smiled. “Maybe you have a crystal ball you weren’t aware of.” He paused. “Listen, this is Tuesday. How would you feel about driving up to Prescott with me on Saturday and looking things over? Brandon and Andrea would like to meet you, too, and see some samples of your merchandise.”
“Well,” Janice said slowly, “I... Yes, all right. I don’t work the weekends at Sleeping Beauty. My staff covers Saturday and Sunday.”
“Great. We’ll stay overnight.”
Janice blinked. “Pardon me?”
“Since Brandon grew up in Prescott, he knows so many people that he and Andrea decided to postpone their wedding reception until the weather would allow a big shindig on the town square.
“They’ve been so busy with the plans for the shops in the hotel, they just didn’t get around to checking with the Chamber of Commerce to see when the square would be free for them to use it.”
“Free of what?” Janice said.
“Craft shows, art exhibits, that sort of thing. They have to put together their reception for this Sunday since it’s the only open date left on the calendar.”
“And?” Janice said, frowning.
“Well, we do Sleeping Beauty business on Saturday and attend the party on Sunday. The hotel was booked solid, but they had one cancellation. You can have that room, and I’ll bunk on Andrea and Brandon’s sofa. They live in the hotel. Or I’ll sleep on the aunts’ sofa.” Taylor chuckled. “They’d pamper and feed me...big time.”
“The aunts?”
“Aunt Prudence and Aunt Charity, Brandon’s great-aunts. They’re twins, but they’re as different as day and night. They’re dear old ladies, and you’ll love ’em.”
“Taylor, I realize that you wish to attend the wedding reception, but I’m not certain I’d feel comfortable crashing the party. Why don’t we drive up in separate cars, and I’ll come back on Saturday?”
“Hey, no way. Brandon specifically said to be sure you knew you were invited to the party. Say yes, Janice. We’ll combine business with pleasure. It’ll be fun.”
Fun? How many
years had it been since she’d had some honest-to-goodness fun? More than she could remember.
But, gracious, an entire weekend in the company of Taylor Sinclair? Was that smart? Or was it dangerous beyond belief?
Don’t panic, she told herself. She was in charge, in control, remember? She...could...handle...this!
“All right, Taylor,” she said, smiling. “I agree to your proposal.”
“You do?” he said, surprise evident on his face. “I was gearing up to talk until I was blue in the face to convince you to—Hey, I’m not complaining.” He lifted the brandy snifter. “Here’s to the weekend in Prescott, and to all it may bring.”
Janice narrowed her eyes. “Meaning?”
“Your expanding Sleeping Beauty into Hamilton House isn’t a done deal. You have to like what you see, and Brandon and Andrea have to decide if your merchandise meets their criteria.”
“Oh, yes, of course. Yes.”
“Shall we toast to the weekend?”
Janice lifted her snifter and touched it gently against Taylor’s.
“To the weekend,” she said.
The butterflies were back, she thought a tad frantically. There they were, swooshing around in her stomach again.
She took a sip of the rich, smooth brandy.
Maybe that would put the butterflies to sleep. Goodness, the brandy was wanning her right down to her toes. That was probably a good thing, because it wouldn’t take much to get cold feet about this weekend.
She took another swallow of brandy.
No, by golly, she’d be fine. She’d conduct business for Sleeping Beauty on Saturday, then on Sunday she would indulge in some old-fashioned fun.
“Well. Taylor,” she said, smiling. “What does one wear to a wedding reception on the town square in Prescott, Arizona?”
Easy does it, Taylor told himself. He’d better pick his words carefully to reply to that question.
“It will be very casual,” he said. “You know, like a big picnic. Wear whatever you’re comfortable in to sit on a blanket on the grass.”
The Irresistible Mr. Sinclair Page 7
