To A Macallister Born. Joan Elliott Pickart

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      Chapter Two

      Before Jennifer was forced to respond to Jack MacAllister’s greeting, the dining room doors once again opened.

      When she saw Brandon’s wife, Andrea, and his great-aunts, twin sisters Prudence and Charity, enter the room, she nearly flung herself at them for a group hug.

      “Hi,” she said weakly, then snatched up a pile of menus. “Your table is ready. Let’s go.” She shook her head slightly. “I mean, would you follow me, please?”

      Rushing from behind the podium, she bumped smack-dab into Jack, and the menus went flying in all directions.

      “Oh, I’m terribly sorry, Mr. MacAllister,” Jennifer said, not looking directly at him. “My, my, clumsy me. I’ll just pick these up and—Brandon, you have the corner table by the windows. I’ll be with you in just a second.”

      Jennifer squatted to collect the scattered menus, only to have Jack hunker down next to her and retrieve two of them.

      “I’ll give you a hand,” he said.

      Jennifer’s head snapped up, and she found herself only inches from Jack. He was looking directly at her, a small smile on his lips.

      Chocolate fudge sauce, she thought. That was the color of Jack MacAllister’s eyes. Delicious, chocolate fudge sauce. Good grief, he was handsome—so ruggedly male, as though his features had been chiseled from rough stone.

      There were tiny lines by his eyes, and she guessed he was maybe thirty-five or thirty-six. His hair was thick, an auburn shade reminding her of a glossy Irish setter.

      His nose was straight, his jaw square, his lips masculine but soft, as though waiting for a kiss….

      Jennifer, get a grip, she ordered herself, averting her eyes from Jack’s. There was that heat again, that damnable heat, swirling low within her, pulsing, causing a warm flush to stain her cheeks.

      Jennifer stood, clutching the menus to her chest. Jack rose and offered two more to her.

      “Thank you,” she said, nearly snatching them out of his hand. “Brandon, why are you still here? I thought you were going over to your table.”

      “We will, sweetie pie,” Aunt Charity said, “just as soon as we figure out what in the blue blazes is the matter with you.”

      “Yes, dear,” Aunt Prudence said. “You do seem a teeny bit flustered this evening. Is something wrong?”

      Jennifer looked at the elderly aunts. Although they were twins, their mirror image was the only similar thing about them.

      Aunt Prudence was wearing a sedate gray dress with a high neck and long sleeves. Aunt Charity was decked out in yards of royal blue taffeta, the dress reminiscent of a turn-of-the-19th-century dance hall costume.

      Andrea was standing next to tall, dark and handsome Brandon. Her maternity dress was peach, which accentuated her lovely, silky dark hair. She had an expression of concern on her pretty face.

      “I’m fine,” Jennifer said, producing a passable smile. “I just overreacted to something I shouldn’t have overreacted to, that’s all. My imagination got the better of me and…I’m fine now.”

      “Hold it,” Jack said, snapping his fingers. “The lightbulb just went on over my head. You saw me on the sidewalk in front of your house yesterday morning. Staring at your home. Casing the place, one might think. Am I getting this straight? Then I showed up here, and that scared the bejesus out of you. Right?”

      Jennifer lifted her chin. “That’s correct, Mr. MacAllister. Your behavior unsettled me. I apologize for…” She frowned. “No, I don’t. I had just cause to question your intentions.”

      “You betcha,” Aunt Charity said. “There was a stranger gawking at your house, for mercy’s sake. That would shake up any single, unmarried, unattached, not-even-dating-anyone woman who has a little boy to protect.”

      “Thank you for sharing, Aunt Charity,” Jack said, smiling at her.

      “Just stating the facts, hotshot,” Aunt Charity said, obviously pleased with herself.

      Jennifer closed her eyes for a moment and squeezed the bridge of her nose as she drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then she raised her head and forced a smile into place.

      “Welcome to the dining room of Hamilton House,” she said, looking at a spot above the assembled group. “May I show you to your table?”

      Jack chuckled. “Why certainly, Ms. Mackane. Do lead on.”

      “Call her Jennifer,” Aunt Charity said. “She’s СКАЧАТЬ