The Summer Wedding: Groom Wanted / The Man You'll Marry. Debbie Macomber

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      “I was there, remember?” He snickered softly. “Plastic food.”

      Jill didn’t agree—she’d enjoyed it—but she wasn’t going to argue. “I don’t know what concern it is of yours,” she said.

      “None,” he admitted, shrugging.

      “Then my going without dinner shouldn’t bother you.” She bristled again at the intense way he was studying her. His mouth had twisted into a faint smile, and he seemed amused by her.

      “Thank you for your advice,” she said stiffly, turning away from him and heading back toward the water.

      “You’re not wearing your lei.”

      Jill’s fingers automatically went to her neck as she stopped. She’d left it in her room when she changed clothes.

      “Allow me.” He stepped forward, removed the one from his own neck and draped it around hers. Since this was her first visit to the islands, Jill didn’t know if giving someone a lei had any symbolism attached to it. She didn’t really want that kind of connection with him. Just in case.

      “Thank you.” She hoped she sounded adequately grateful.

      “I might have saved your life, you know.”

      That was a ridiculous comment. “How?”

      “You could’ve drowned.”

      Jill couldn’t help it. She laughed. “Not very likely. I had no intention of swimming.”

      “You can’t trust the tides here. Even this close to shore, the waves are capable of jerking your feet right out from under you. You might easily have been swept out to sea.”

      “That’s absurd.”

      “Perhaps,” he agreed, amicably enough. “But I was hoping you’d realize you’re in my debt.”

      Ah, now they were getting somewhere. This man wasn’t given to generosity. She’d bet a month’s wages that he’d initiated the conversation for his own purposes. He’d had plenty of time on their flight from Seattle to advise her about swimming.

      No, he was after something.

      “What is it you want?” she asked bluntly.

      He grinned that cocky, unused smile of his and nodded. Apparently this was high praise of her finely honed intuitive skills.

      “Nothing much. I was hoping you’d attend a small business dinner with me.”

      “Tonight?”

      He nodded again. “You did mention you hadn’t eaten.”

      “Yes, but …”

      “It’ll only take an hour or so of your time.” He sounded impatient, as if he’d expected her to agree to his scheme without question.

      “I don’t even know who you are. Why would I want to attend a dinner party with you? I’m Jill Morrison, by the way.”

      “Jordan Wilcox,” he said abruptly. “All right, if you must know, I need a woman to come with me so I won’t be forced to offend someone I can’t afford to alienate.”

      “Then don’t.”

      “He’s not the one I’m worried about. It’s his daughter. She’s apparently set her sights on me and doesn’t seem capable of taking a hint.”

      “Well, then, it sounds as though you’ve got yourself a problem.” Privately Jill wondered at the woman’s taste.

      He frowned, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dinner jacket. He’d changed clothes, too, but he hadn’t substituted something more casual for his business suit. Quite the reverse. But then, that shouldn’t have surprised her. It was always business, never pleasure, with people like him.

      “I don’t know what it is about you women,” he said plaintively. “Can’t you tell when a man’s not interested?”

      “Not always.” Jill was beginning to feel a bit smug. She swung her shoes at her side. “In other words, you need me as a bodyguard.”

      Clearly he didn’t approve of her terminology, but he let it pass. “Something like that.”

      “Do I have to pretend to be madly in love with you?”

      “Good heavens, no.”

      Jill hesitated. “I’m not sure I brought anything appropriate to wear.”

      He reached inside his pocket and pulled out a thick wad of cash. He peeled away several hundred-dollar bills and stuffed them in her hand. “Buy yourself something. The shop in the hotel’s still open.”

       Two

      “I’ll pay for the dress myself,” Jill insisted for the tenth time. She couldn’t believe she’d agreed to attend this dinner party with Jordan Wilcox. Not only didn’t she know the man, she didn’t even like him.

      “I’ll pay for the dress,” he said, also for the tenth time. “It’s the least I can do.”

      They were in the ultraexpensive dress shop located off the hotel lobby. Jill was shifting judiciously through the rack of evening gowns. Most were outrageously overpriced. She found a simple one she thought might flatter her petite build, ran her hand down the sleeve until she reached the white tag, then sighed. The price was higher than any of the others. Grumbling under her breath, she dropped the sleeve and continued her search.

      Jordan glanced impatiently at his watch. “What’s wrong with this one?” He held up an elegant cocktail dress. It was made of dark green silk, with a draped bodice and a slim skirt. Lovely indeed, but hardly worth a week’s salary.

      “Nothing’s wrong with it,” she answered absently as she flipped through the row of dresses.

      “Then buy it.”

      Jill glared at him. “I can’t afford eight hundred dollars for a dress I’ll probably wear once.”

      “I can,” he returned from between clenched teeth.

      “I won’t allow you to pay for my dress.”

      “The party’s in thirty minutes,” he reminded her sharply.

      “All right, all right.”

      He sighed with relief and put out a hand for the dress. Jill stopped him.

      “Obviously nothing here is going to work. I’ll check what I brought with me. Maybe what I have is more suitable than I thought.”

      Groaning, he followed her to the elevator. “Wait in the hall,” she СКАЧАТЬ