“Taylor needs to discover a great deal more about Sleeping Beauty than just what’s in these boxes,” Brandon said.
“What?” she said, obviously confused.
Brandon leaned over the stack of boxes in his arms and dropped a quick kiss on Andrea’s lips.
“Andrea, my love,” he said. “Don’t attempt to understand the genius-level workings of the male mind. You’ll become frustrated when faced with continual defeat.”
Andrea rolled her eyes heavenward, then started off toward the designated room.
Janice was smiling when she answered Taylor’s knock at the door.
“Suitcase delivery,” he said, matching her smile.
“Thank you. Do come in.” She stepped back to allow him to enter. “Oh, Taylor, look at this room.” She closed the door and swept one arm through the air. “Isn’t it exquisite? I think if I look out the window, I’ll see horses and buggies on the street instead of cars. The decorating in here is picture-perfect turn of the century.”
“Yep,” Taylor said, placing her suitcase on the bed. He set his own luggage on the floor. “Brandon did a helluva fine job when he restored Hamilton House and...” He stopped speaking when he saw Janice staring at his suitcase. “Problem?”
“Why is that in my room?” she said, pointing at his suitcase.
“It’s mine,” he said.
“I realize that, Taylor.”
“It’s mine and, therefore, it belongs with me, where I am. You know what I mean?”
Janice narrowed her eyes as she looked at Taylor intently.
She could see the flicker of merriment in Taylor’s dark eyes. He was stringing her along, just to determine what kind of reaction he would get. At the moment, he was behaving like the mischievous little boy he’d been while growing up here in Prescott.
Well, sit tight, Sinclair. She could give as good as she got. Tit for tat.
“problem?” she said with an expression of pure innocence. “That has yet to be determined. It all depends on one very crucial issue.”
Taylor frowned. “It does?”
“Oh, my, yes. It’s a biggy, all right, could be a major stumbling block.” She paused. “We might as well get it over with and hope for the best.”
“Huh?”
Janice closed the distance between them and encircled Taylor’s neck with her arms.
“Taylor,” she said, her voice a husky whisper. “Do you—” she batted her eyelashes. “—do you... snore?”
Taylor stiffened in shock, then a moment later heard the tiny giggle that escaped from Janice’s lips. He burst into laughter, pulled her arms from his neck, and kissed each of her hands before releasing them.
“Score one for you, Ms. Jennings,” he said. “You had me going there for a second.”
“You deserved it.”
“I know,” he said, laughing again. “I will now go deposit my suitcase in Andrea and Brandon’s apartment and return to collect you, madam. Farewell.”
“Ta-ta.”
After Taylor grabbed his suitcase and left the room, Janice’s smile faded as she shifted her gaze to the four-poster bed.
She and Taylor had been joking regarding whether they were to share that pretty, old-fashioned bed.
But she knew that deep within her, the want, the desire to make love with Taylor was there, simmering, glowing like embers waiting to be fanned into licking flames that she would allow to consume her.
Oh, yes, she did wish to make love with Taylor Sinclair.
With a sigh, Janice opened her suitcase and began to hang her clothes in the closet.
Taylor, Taylor, Taylor, her mind hummed. For now, at least, he was accepting her just as she was. How wondrous that was. What a special gift he was giving her.
It wouldn’t last, she knew, because Taylor was accustomed to keeping company with beautiful women.
But what if...what if...while she was the center of his attention, while he actually wanted to make love with her, she lowered her protective walls and created cherished memories with Taylor that would be hers to keep?
What if she made love with Taylor Sinclair?
Janice placed her cosmetic bag in the bathroom, knowing there was no makeup in it—no eye shadow, mascara, blush or lipstick. There were simply a brush and comb, light lotion and tissues. Nothing to enhance her features. Nothing to turn her into more than being just Janice, who Taylor actually, unbelievably desired.
After putting her lingerie from Sleeping Beauty in the dresser drawers, she set the empty suitcase in the closet, then settled onto the side of the bed to wait for Taylor’s return.
There was no way she could be emotionally hurt by taking the momentous, intimate step with Taylor. She wouldn’t fall in love with the man—heavens no—she simply wanted to make love with him.
She realized what she and Taylor had together was temporary, would be over very quickly, just as soon as Taylor grew weary of being with a woman who didn’t evoke the envy of other men when they walked into a room. He wouldn’t settle for a woman like her for long, because he didn’t have to.
So, it was now, or it was never.
“Well, Janice?” she said aloud. “Just how far does your ‘I can handle this’ attitude go?”
Before she could search her heart and mind for an answer to the so-very-important question, a knock sounded at the door. Janice got to her feet and crossed the room to open the door for Taylor.
A little over an hour later, Janice and Taylor, Andrea and Brandon were seated at a table in the dining room of Hamilton House, having just had crisp salads placed in front of them.
“I remember food,” Taylor said. “Even though it has been an eternity since I had any.”
“Poor baby,” Andrea said, laughing. “Do you want my salad, too, Taylor? Or is one enough?”
“I’ll hold myself back,” he said, “because I know I have a steak sandwich with my name on it being prepared in the kitchen.”
“You’re a brave soul,” Andrea said, patting his hand.
Brandon lifted his water glass. “A toast to Janice and her Sleeping Beauty boutique. The newest member of the shops to be built in Hamilton House.”
“Hear, hear,” Taylor said, raising his glass.
The four clinked their glasses together.
“It’s so exciting,” Andrea said after they’d taken an official sip of water. “Your merchandise is exquisite, Janice.”
“And expensive,” Brandon said, cocking one eyebrow at his wife. “A fact I’m well aware of since you purchased half of Janice’s samples.”
“Well, goodness, Brandon,” Andrea said, smiling. “They were my size, were meant to be mine. Besides, how can I recommend the products in our specialty shops with a clear conscience if I haven’t tested them?” She looked at Janice. “Right, Janice? You wear items from Sleeping Beauty, don’t you?”
Taylor’s head snapped around and he stared at . Janice intently.
Uh-oh, he thought. Andrea was treading on dangerous ground. A woman who dressed like Janice didn’t wear sexy lingerie. Cripe, what was Andrea thinking? Couldn’t she tell that Janice was a whitecotton undies type?
“Well, I...” Janice said.
“Pass the salt,” Taylor interjected. “Please.”
Brandon handed him the salt shaker that Taylor could have reached easily on his own.
“I...” Janice started again.
“And the pepper,” Taylor said.
“Is your arm broken?” Brandon said, smacking the pepper shaker into Taylor’s hand.
“Do you need anything else, Taylor?” Janice said.
“No,” he said, then turned to Andrea. “I imagine it would be like working in an ice cream store. People who work in ice cream stores reach a point where they can’t stand the sight of ice cream. Nope. Can’t stand the stuff. They never take a lick from a cone, or a bite from a bowl. Get it? Therefore, Janice wouldn’t wear the merchandise from Sleeping Beauty because—”
“Excuse me, Taylor,” J
anice interrupted, “but you’re wrong. To answer your question, Andrea, yes, I have a complete wardrobe of Sleeping Beauty merchandise, as well as the lotions, bath beads, and other accessories.”
“You do?” Taylor said, his eyes widening as he stared at her.
“I certainly do,” she said, lifting her chin and meeting his startled gaze directly. “Words can’t describe how sensuous, how feminine it feels to have satin and lace caressing one’s skin. It’s heavenly.”
“Oh,” Taylor managed to say as heat rocketed through his body.
Janice laughed. “Well, this is a first. I’m sitting here discussing my underclothes.”
“I hope I like my tap pants,” Andrea said. “I’ve never owned a pair.”
“I’m wearing tap pants with a matching camisole right now,” Janice said. “They’re extremely comfortable. I’m sure you’ll enjoy the set you purchased from the samples I brought. They’ll glide over your skin with a gentle touch as you move like...like a feathery kiss.”
Good Lord, Taylor thought, shifting in his chair, he was dying right there on the spot. Janice actually wore lingerie from Sleeping Beauty? Unbelievable. And the way she was describing it was causing him to go up in flames.
Would this woman never stop surprising him? Never cease to reveal another layer of herself that he hadn’t known existed?
“Problem, buddy?” Brandon said, grinning as he looked at Taylor.
“Shut up, Hamilton,” Taylor said, glaring at him.
Brandon shrugged. “Just thought I’d ask.”
“No wonder your boutique is so successful, Janice,” Andrea said, ignoring the interchange between the men. “No woman could resist purchasing your merchandize once you’ve described it the way you just did.
“We must be certain that the manager of the Sleeping Beauty shop here in Hamilton House can express herself as well as you do.”
“I give all my employees a variety of apparel free of charge when I hire them,” Janice said. “It’s a sound investment, because once they wear the items their enthusiasm is contagious. The mental images they evoke in potential customers is very vivid.”
“No joke,” Taylor muttered.
Brandon heard him and burst into laughter.
“Did we miss something?” Andrea said, looking at Brandon questioningly.
“Food,” Taylor said as the waitress appeared, carrying a large tray. “That’s what’s missing here... food.”
“You certainly act strangely when you aren’t fed on a regular basis, Taylor,” Janice said.
“I know,” he said. “Ignore me. I’ve been like this ever since I was a little kid. You can ask my dad. He’ll tell you that I need my nourishment or I get weird, very weird.”
Brandon fell apart laughing, prompting Andrea to thump him on the back when his hilarity resulted in a coughing fit.
To Taylor’s utmost relief the conversation shifted to other topics while the four consumed the delicious meal.
Hours later, Janice slipped a burnt-orange, longsleeved caftan over her head and waited for it to settle into place at mid-calf.
“An orange tent,” she said, peering down at the abundance of material.
She’d replaced the sturdy Oxfords with simple, bone-colored two-inch heels, but her hair remained in the severe bun.
She sank onto the edge of the bed and yawned.
Her kingdom for a nap, she thought. During the pleasant afternoon she’d spent with Taylor exploring Prescott, she’d yawned several times, causing Taylor to chuckle. It was the altitude getting to her, he’d explained.
It had been such a fun outing amd she’d met a multitude of friendly people who Taylor had known all his life.
Janice blinked several times, then yawned again, patting her hand against her mouth. “Goodness, I’m so sleepy.”
She got to her feet and walked around the room, hoping to dispel the need to curl up on the bed and give way to the sleepy state that was creeping steadily over her.
Wake up, she ordered herself. She wasn’t going to be sparkling company at dinner if she didn’t escape from this fog. Andrea and Brandon had planned a gathering that was to include Brandon’s great-aunts Prudence and Charity, plus Dr. Ben Rizzoli, the boyhood friend of both Brandon and Taylor’s.
Janice’s glance fell on a pretty box she’d set on the top of the dresser.
She was so pleased with the purchase she’d made. The pair of crystal hummingbirds mounted on a wooden stand would be lovely on the mantel above the fireplace in her living room.
And every time she looked at the delicate statue she would, she knew, have a rush of memories of this special weekend.
Janice smiled as she replayed the hours of the afternoon in her mind.
How fortunate Taylor was, and Brandon, too, to have grown up in this warm and welcoming little town. What happy childhood years they’d both had.
She frowned.
No, she wasn’t going to take the road that would lead to dwelling on her own youth. There was nothing to be gained from that except dimming her euphoric, albeit sleepy, state of mind. She’d concentrate on the carefree hours she’d spent with Taylor.
Not once during their tour of Prescott had Taylor explained that Janice was a client of his. He’d introduced her time and again as “My friend, Janice Jennings, from Phoenix,” often slipping one arm around her shoulders in the process.
Typical small-town gossip must be humming, she thought, as Taylor had given every indication to those he spoke with that he and Janice were together, really together, for a weekend stay at Hamilton House.
Why had he done that? If she was a stunning beauty, she could understand it. Let the hometown folks see what handsome, worldly Taylor Sinclair was accustomed to having on his arm.
But to show off her? That didn’t make one bit of sense.
“Will I ever figure that man out?” she said, throwing up her hands. “I seriously doubt it.”
Janice glanced at her watch, then the door, expecting Taylor’s knock at any moment.
Taylor stood in the hallway outside Janice’s door, his hands in his pockets, a frown on his face.
He’d rushed through his shower, tossed on slacks and a sweater, and nearly sprinted down the hall from Andrea and Brandon’s apartment to Janice’s room.
He’d only left her an hour or so before, yet there he was, acting like an overeager adolescent who was anticipating the moment when he would see Janice again.
Man, oh, man, he’d enjoyed the hours that he’d spent with Janice. Her eyes had sparkled with excitement at all the new things she was seeing, and her smile had been genuine when she met people who were important to him.
He’d been...well, proud to introduce Ms. Janice Jennings to those he’d known all his life. Yes, proud. Janice was the real goods—open, friendly, honest. He hadn’t given a moment’s thought to the way she was dressed, as he presented Janice, the person, to his friends.
And he’d felt ten feet tall.
Taylor narrowed his eyes and stared at the door.
Face it, he thought. He was a mental mess. Janice was confusing him so completely, it was a crime.
His feelings for her were growing steadily. He cared for her. He truly cared for her, very, very much.
And heaven knew he desired her, wanted to make love with her with an intensity beyond anything he’d experienced before.
Why? Damn it, why?
Janice was opposite—and then some—from the women he kept company with. She didn’t fit the mold, not even close. But for reasons he couldn’t begin to explain she was getting to him...big time.
Why? That was question number one. And question two? What was he going to do about it?
“Hey, hotshot,” a voice said. “Are you having a conversation with that door? Does it have anything interesting to say?”
Taylor turned in the direction of the voice, and instantly smiled.
“Hi there, Aunt Charity,” he said. “Good evening, Aunt Prudence.” He rapped quickly on
Janice’s door. “It’s great to see you again.”
Janice opened the door.
“And this is Janice Jennings,” Taylor went on. “Janice, these two wonderful ladies are the loves of my life. May I present Aunt Prudence and Aunt Charity?”
Janice smiled in delight. “Hello. I’ve heard so much about you, and I’ve been looking forward to meeting you both.”
The elderly women were the same height and had identical features, befitting twins. Aunt Prudence was wearing a navy-blue, high-necked old-fashioned dress. Aunt Charity was decked out in a bright pink taffeta creation that reminded Janice of something that might have been worn in a turn of the century dance hall.
“The pleasure is ours, dear,” Aunt Prudence said.
“You bet, honey,” Aunt Charity said. “It’s about time that Taylor brought a gal home for us to meet.”
“Oh, I’m not...” Janice started.
“Sure you are,” Charity said. “Let’s go eat. I’m hungry.”
Janice hurried to retrieve her purse, then stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind her.
“I understand you’re going to have one of the new shops in the lobby, Janice,” Aunt Prudence said as the four walked toward the elevator.
“It’s called Sleeping Beauty,” Charity said. “Sells fancy undies.”
Janice laughed, deciding she already adored the notorious aunts.
Fancy undies, Taylor mentally repeated, his gaze sweeping over Janice’s billowing, shapeless dress. After that killer conversation at lunch, he now knew that beneath that awful orange thing that Janice was wearing was sensuous, satin and lace lingerie from Sleeping Beauty.
That thought niggling at him for the entire evening just might be enough to push him right over the edge of his sanity.
“Are you enjoying your visit to Prescott, dear?” Aunt Pru said to Janice as the group entered the elevator.
“Oh, yes,” Janice said, “I’m having a wonderful time. Everything is...well, perfect.”
“It is?” Taylor said.
Janice smiled at him warmly. “It is.”
Now he felt twenty feet tall, Taylor thought, unable to curb his smile.
The Irresistible Mr. Sinclair Page 10
