Angels And Elves. Joan Elliott Pickart

a tantrum.”

      “Then quit acting like one,” Forrest said, glowering at her.

      “Well!” Jillian said indignantly. “You’re not only a cad, you’re a rude cad to boot.”

      “Cad?” He rolled his eyes heavenward. “I don’t believe this. A rude cad.” He burst into laughter, then grinned at Jillian. “You’re really something.” She was enchanting, absolutely delightful, as well as being extremely beautiful. “I’ve always had a fondness for the old-fashioned. You, however, take that premise beyond the scope of my imagination. You’re an intriguing woman, Miss Jones-Jenkins.” His smile faded, and he looked directly into her eyes. “Yes, very intriguing.”

      Jillian opened her mouth to retort, then snapped it shut as she realized she had no idea what to say. A tingling sensation danced along her spine and across her breasts before settling low within her. The warm, brown pools of Forrest MacAllister’s eyes seemed to be holding her immobile, unable to think clearly, hardly able to breathe.

      Dear heaven, she thought hazily, what was this man doing to her?

      Not a thing, she mentally answered herself in the next instant. He was just a man, nothing fancy. He put his pants on one leg at time, just like any other man.

      Actually, it wasn’t a good idea to be focusing on the subject of Mr. MacAllister’s pants, Jillian admonished herself.

      But, good gracious, he was gorgeous. There was a blatant masculinity about him, an earthy aura that shouted the fact that he was male. Dear heaven, was he ever male. And those eyes, those pinning-her-in-place brown eyes were—

      Jillian, stop, stop, stop! she scolded herself. She was overreacting to everything because she was exhausted. She’d had enough of this nonsense.

      She tore her gaze from Forrest’s, and dropped the pen onto the table.

      “Oh, perdition,” she said, throwing up her hands. “This is ridiculous. Just what exactly is it that you want, Mr. MacAllister?”

      You, Forrest thought. Jillian’s big gray eyes were incredible. He felt as though he were being pulled into their fathomless depths, into a sensual fog that caused heat to rocket through his body and coil low and tight within him.

      She was a spell weaver. Miss Jillian Jones-Jenkins talked like she had stepped out of the past and into his present. She was rattling him, throwing him off kilter. Well, hell—and perdition, too, for crying out loud.

      “Hello?” Deedee said. “Has a truce been called? Is anyone still awake here?”

      “I’m not a miscreant,” Forrest said, shaking his head. “Okay? Are we clear on that one? I’m here for a purpose.”

      “Do tell,” Jillian said, crossing her arms over her breasts.

      “I’m attempting to do that, madam,” he said, glaring at her. “I bought one of your books when I first came in. It’s behind the counter and has my name on it.”

      “So, why were you skulking?” Jillian asked, leaning toward him slightly. “Answer me that.”

      “Because the book is for my sister, Andrea,” he said, his voice rising. “Andrea MacAllister Stewart? Your friend? You know, the one who’s expecting twins and has been instructed by her doctor to stay in bed because they don’t want the babies to be born too early. She’s very disappointed that she couldn’t come here today.”

      “Of course,” Deedee said, beaming, “Forrest MacAllister. Andrea has spoken of you so often, and was very excited that you were coming home from Japan. And, my, my, here you are. Isn’t this a marvelous surprise, Jillian? We’re finally meeting Andrea’s brother, Forrest.”

      “Mmm.” Jillian lifted her chin a notch. “Being Andrea’s brother does not explain Mr. MacAllister’s lengthy stretch of skulking.”

      “Well, hell, what do you expect?” he said, volume now on high. “Do you think I was going to stand in line with a bunch of giggling, fawning women to have a sappy romance novel autographed? Not in this lifetime, sweetheart.”

      “Uh-oh,” Deedee muttered.

      Uh-oh, Forrest thought, that had not been a brilliant thing to say.

      Fury was building in Jillian like a tempestuous storm, gaining force, soon ready to explode. Eyes that had been radiating gray, pussy willow softness, were now silver daggers prepared to strike him dead. The flush on her cheeks was caused by anger, and her breasts, those full, lush breasts, rapidly rose and fell in an enticing rhythm.

       She was absolutely sensational.

      “You...you...” Jillian sputtered.

      “Wait, whoa, halt,” Forrest said. He quickly raised both hands in a gesture of peace. “That didn’t sound right. What I meant to say is...” Think, MacAllister! He was a breath away from being murdered! “A man, any man, is out of his league in a large group of women. It’s overwhelming, you know what I mean?” He produced his most dazzling smile. “I was nervous, shaking in my shorts.”

      “Like hell,” Jillian said, narrowing her eyes.

      Forrest’s smile disappeared. “I don’t think they said that back in the old-fashioned days. Anyway, I’m sure your book is great, really wonderful. I like romance. Hell, I love romance. I’m a very romantic guy. Really. You can ask any woman I’ve ever— Cancel that.”

      “Mr. MacAllister,” Jillian said.

      “Forrest. Call me Forrest. Look, I’m in awe of anyone who can write a book and get it published. All I can do in the writing arena is make out checks to pay my bills. I’d appreciate it if you’d autograph the copy of your book I bought for Andrea. Having your newest novel to read will help take her mind off her worries about the babies.

      “Listen, I’ll read the book myself, cover to cover. I’m sorry if I insulted you. I stressed out because of all those women, that’s all. Would you please sign the book for Andrea?”

      Oh, perdition, Jillian thought, Forrest MacAllister didn’t play fair. There had been an endearing, little-boy quality about him as he spilled forth his sermonette.

      Also evident was a genuine sincerity in his voice, and she knew without doubt that he loved his sister, Andrea, very deeply.

      Ever since she and Andrea had become friends, Jillian had been aware that the MacAllisters were a close-knit, devoted-to-each-other family. When she was growing up she used to daydream, to fantasize, about how wonderful it would be to have brothers and sisters, and parents who—

      “Jillian?” Forrest said.

      “Yes, of course,” she said, smiling. “I’ll be happy to autograph Andrea’s book.”

      “Praise the Lord,” Deedee said, looking heavenward. She hurried to retrieve the book from behind the counter, then shoved it into Jillian’s hands. “Write.”

      Jillian sat down behind the table and did as instructed. A few minutes later, she held out the book to Forrest.

      “There you are,” she said. “I hope Andrea enjoys it. Please tell her that I’ll come visit her very soon.”

      “Thank you,” he said, taking the novel from her hand. “Thank you very much.”

      Again their eyes met, and again neither moved, nor hardly breathed. Currents of crackling sensuality seemed to weave back and forth between them, drawing them close even while they stayed exactly where they were. Their hearts raced, and heat pulsed within as their startling passion heightened.

      “Well, I...” Deedee started.

      “What!” Jillian and Forrest both jerked in surprise at the sound of Deedee’s voice and the spell was broken.

      Placing one hand over her heart, Deedee said, “All I was going to say is that we’re finished here,