The Boss and the Plain Jayne Bride. HEATHER MACALLISTER

binder out of her nerveless fingers. The Pace Waterman mint-green and burgundy conference room ceased to exist as Jayne lost herself in the marvel that was Garret Charles.

      He had beautiful skin the color of buttery leather with the slightest darkening above his upper lip. She inhaled and was pleased to discover that he wore no scent.

      “Thank you.” His deep voice broke the spell that paralyzed her.

      Flushing, Jayne lurched toward the next student.

      And bashed the cart into Garrett’s knee.

      She knew it the instant she felt the bump. “I’m so sorry!” she gasped as he grimaced.

      But it was an elegant, manly grimace, quickly smoothed.

      “No.” He waved away her apology and briefly massaged his leg. “I should have moved my foot out of the aisle.”

      “But it must hurt!” Jayne knelt to inspect the damage, brushing at the place on his khaki-clad thigh where the cart had left a dark smudge.

      “It’s fine now. Really.” He placed his hand directly over hers.

      Jayne stared at the well-shaped hand with its ringless fingers covering hers. She felt the muscles of his leg tense under her fingers and in that instant, became fully aware of her position. His waist and points south were directly in her line of sight and her hand was on the hard muscles of his thigh.

      Meeting his faintly amused blue eyes, Jayne gasped a horrified, “Ohmigosh!”, shot to her feet and blindly pushed the cart.

      There was a shuffling sound as the rest of the students drew in their legs. Behind her, Jayne knew at least three feet separated the cart from the next row of desks. Plenty of room, unless one were trying to get as close as possible to Garrett Charles, which she had been.

      Parking the cart in the front, Jayne gathered her tattered composure and faced the class. “If any of you had concerns about your personal safety during the class, I believe I’ve sufficiently demonstrated my proficiency with the rolling cart—” she gave it a pat “—a vastly underrated weapon.”

      Soft laughter broke the tension, but Jayne didn’t know how she got through the next two hours, or even what she said. Every time she looked at Garrett, she was in danger of losing her place in the lesson, so she had to concentrate more than usual. By the time she dismissed class, she had a headache.

      Resting her forehead against the dry erase board prior to cleaning it, Jayne didn’t realize at first that she had company.

      “Are you all right?” asked a deep male voice behind her.

      She whirled around, then jammed the heel of her hand against her head as the pain speared through it. “Uh, I’ve got a headache,” she managed to say even though voices in her poor abused head were shouting at her to say something witty.

      His brow furrowed in attractive wrinkles. Attractive wrinkles for Pete’s sake. “I’m sorry.” He sounded as though he meant it. Good trick. “I noticed that you seemed distracted this evening,” he began diplomatically, “and I hope it wasn’t because you felt awkward about bumping me with the cart.”

      Bumping. How kind he was. “I am so sorry about that. How’s your leg? It’s bruised, isn’t it?” she asked, when he hesitated.

      “Don’t worry about it.” A corner of his mouth tilted upward, deepening a dimple. “Accidents happen.”

      “That’s very generous of you.”

      “Why? You’re telling me it wasn’t an accident?”

      Jayne’s eyes widened. “Of course it was!” she spluttered, horrified.

      Garrett laughed lightly and touched her briefly on the shoulder. “Relax. I’m kidding. I only wanted you to know that I’m not the kind of person who’ll have his lawyer camping on your doorstep within twentyfour hours, in case you were worried.”

      Jayne’s mouth opened. She’d never even considered that he might sue. Her financial life flashed before her.

      He raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

      Jayne shut her mouth and, having lost the power of speech, nodded.

      “See you on Thursday, then.” He turned and walked out of the conference room, footsteps muffled by the industrial carpeting.

      Jayne stared after him. He was coming back! She was going to get a second chance!

      So what was she going to do with it?

      CHAPTER TWO

      JAYNE might as well have stayed at home for all the work she accomplished the next day. What happened to competence? Disgusted with herself, she thumbed through the reports left over from yesterday and sighed. Garrett Charles was haunting her every waking moment and most of her sleeping ones as well.

      Over and over, she relived the embarrassing moments from last night. She’d stared at him, attacked him with the book cart and then lectured on who knows what. Her only hope was that since she’d taught the class so many times, her brain could coast for a while. She hoped it was coasting in familiar waters.

      Then there was the strange, unsettled feeling she’d had lately. She probably needed a vacation. That was it. Maybe she could talk Sylvia into one of those four-day cruises that left from the Port of Houston. At the prospect, Jayne immediately felt brighter.

      That was it. She just needed a vacation. Her life had become drab and predictable and her reaction to Garrett was nature’s way of telling her that her social life needed attention. A lot of attention. Her mother had always told her she was going to be a late bloomer. Well, twenty-eight was late and Jayne must be blooming.

      On Thursday, class day, Jayne stood indecisively in front of her closet. What to wear, what to wear.

      Her sartorial decisions usually consisted of which version of a navy-blue suit she would wear. Solid? Midnight-navy? Royal-blue navy? Pin-striped? Glenplaid ? White blouse or pale blue? Blue on red tie or red on blue? She’d always been pleased with her professional wardrobe. Now it all looked too...too something. Predictable? Staid? Stuffy? All of the above?

      There was always her beige suit, which she wore in the heat of summer, but she felt like a lightweight in it.

      Okay, she’d analyze the situation. She wanted to appear competent to reassure everyone after Tuesday, so she’d wear her most conservative, expensive, darkest suit with a blinding white shirt and a regimental striped women’s ascot at the neck. She’d add height with her highest heeled pumps.

      She set off for work, feeling her old competent self. It was a good feeling and one she wanted to hold on to until her vacation.

      “Hey, Jayne, you look ready to take on the world,” commented Bill Pellman as she passed his cubicle on the way to her office. “Big account on the hne?”

      “No,” Jayne responded with deliberate casualness, “but I do have class to teach tonight.”

      Bill was young, eager and considered Jayne his mentor—a pleasant, sexless mentor who lived for work just as he did. Jayne sighed, thinking there was more truth there than she liked.

      “Any hot prospects?” he asked now.

      She thought of Garrett and her throat went dry. “Not really,” she croaked and fled to her office.

      So much for renewed competence. Just thinking of Garrett made her heart race, so she attempted to figure out her surprising response to him.

      Never in her life had she responded to a man’s physical appearance with such...awareness. Parts of her body, parts that were usually hibernating, had awakened. She wasn’t even sure she was experiencing desire. Desire flourished when there was a chance of being desired in return. Competent, realistic, feetfirmly-on-the-ground Jayne Nelson did not attract the Garrett Charles type of man. Her head knew that, but her body must have