The Summer Wedding. Debbie Macomber

him. “You don’t like women very much, do you?”

      “They have their uses.”

      He said it in such a belittling, negative way that Jill felt a flash of hot color invade her cheeks. She turned to look at him, feeling almost sorry for a man who had everything yet seemed so empty inside. “What’s made you so cynical?”

      He glanced at her again, a bit scornfully. “Life.”

      Jill didn’t know what to make of that response, but luckily the elevator arrived just then.

      “Is there anything else I should know before we get there?” she asked once they were inside. Her role, Jill understood, was to protect him from an associate’s daughter. She had no idea how she was supposed to manage that, but she’d think of something when the time came.

      “Nothing important.” He paused, frowning. “I’m afraid the two of us might arouse some curiosity, though.”

      “Why’s that?”

      “I don’t generally associate with … innocents.”

      “Innocents?” He made her sound like one of the preschool crowd. No one she’d ever known could insult her with less effort. “I am over twenty-one, in case you didn’t realize it.”

      He laughed outright at that, and Jill stiffened, regretting—probably not for the last time—that she’d actually agreed to this.

      “I think you’re wonderful, too,” she said sarcastically.

      “So you told me before.”

      The elevator arrived at the top floor of the hotel, where the restaurant was located. Jordan spoke briefly to the maître d’, who led them to the dinner party.

      Jill glanced around the simple, elegant room, and her heart did a tiny somersault. All the guests were executive types, the men in dark suits, the women in sophisticated dresses that could all have been bought at the little boutique downstairs. Everyone had an aura of prosperity and power.

      Jill’s breath came in shallow gasps. She was miles out of her league. These people had money, real money, whereas she’d spent months just saving for this vacation. Her money was invested in panty hose and frozen dinners, not property and office towers and massive stock portfolios.

      Jordan must have felt her unease, because he turned to her and smiled briefly. “You’ll be fine.”

      It astonished Jill that three little words from him could give her an immeasurable boost of confidence. She smiled and drew herself up as tall as her five-foot-three-inch frame would allow.

      Waiters carried trays of delicate hors d’oeuvres and narrow etched-glass flutes filled with sparkling, golden champagne. Jill reached for a glass and took her first sip, widening her eyes in surprise. Never had she tasted anything better.

      “This is excellent.”

      “It should be, at three hundred dollars a bottle.”

      Before Jill could comment, an older, distinguished-looking gentleman detached himself from a younger colleague and made his way across the room toward them. He looked close to sixty, but could have stepped off the pages of Gentlemen’s Quarterly.

      “Jordan,” he said in a hearty voice, extending his hand, “I’m delighted you could make it.”

      “I am, too.”

      “I trust your flight was uneventful.”

      Jordan’s gaze briefly met Jill’s. “It was fine. I’d like you to meet Jill Morrison. Jill, Dean Lundquist.”

      “Hello,” she said pleasantly, giving him her hand.

      “Delighted,” Dean said again, turning to smile at her. He held her hand considerably longer than good manners required. Jill had the impression she was being carefully inspected and did her utmost to appear composed.

      Finally, he released her and nodded toward the entrance. “If you’ll both excuse me for a moment, Nicholson’s just arrived.”

      “Of course,” Jordan agreed politely.

      Jill waited until Dean Lundquist was out of earshot. Then she leaned toward Jordan and whispered, “Suzi’s dad?”

      Jordan made a wry face. “Smart girl.”

      Not really, since few other men would have had cause to inspect her so closely, but Jill didn’t discount the compliment. She wasn’t likely to receive that many, at least not from Jordan.

      “Who was that standing with him?” She inclined her head in the direction of a tall, good-looking young man. Something about him didn’t seem quite right. Nothing she could put her finger on, but it was a feeling she couldn’t shake.

      “That’s Dean Junior,” Jordan explained.

      Jill noticed the way Jordan’s mouth thinned and the thoughtful, preoccupied look that came into his eyes. “He’s being groomed by Daddy to take my place.”

      “Junior?” Jill studied the younger man a second time. “I don’t think you’ll have much of a problem.”

      “Why’s that?”

      She shrugged, not sure why she felt so confident of that. “I can’t picture you losing at anything.”

      His gaze swept her warmly. “I have no intention of giving Junior the opportunity, but I’m going to have a real fight on my hands soon.”

      “Just a minute,” Jill said. “If Suzi is Dean Senior’s daughter, then wouldn’t a marriage between you two secure your position?” It wouldn’t exactly be a love match, but she couldn’t envision Jordan marrying for something as commonplace as love.

      Jordan gave her a quick, unreadable look. “It’d help, but unfortunately I’m not the marrying kind.”

      Jill had guessed as much. She doubted there was time in his busy schedule for love or commitment, just for work, work, work. Complete one project and start another. She knew the pattern.

      Jill couldn’t imagine falling in love with someone like Jordan. And she couldn’t picture Jordan in love at all. As he’d said, he wasn’t the marrying kind.

      “Jordan.” A woman’s shrill voice sent a chill up Jill’s spine as a beautiful blonde hurried past her and straight into Jordan’s unsuspecting arms, locking him in a tight embrace.

      “This must be Suzi,” Jill said conversationally from behind the woman who was squeezing Jordan for all she was worth.

      Jordan’s irate eyes found hers. “Do something!” he mouthed.

      Jill was enjoying the scene far too much to interrupt Suzi’s passionate greeting. While Jordan was occupied, Jill took an hors d’oeuvre from a nearby silver platter. Whatever it was tasted divine, and she automatically reached for two more. She hadn’t recognized how hungry she was. Not until she was on her third cracker did she realize she was sampling caviar.

      “Oh, darling, I didn’t think you’d ever get here,” Suzi said breathlessly. Her pretty blue eyes filled with something close to hero worship as she gazed up at Jordan. “Whatever took you so long? Didn’t you know I’d been waiting hours and hours for you?”

      “Suzi,” Jordan said stiffly, disentangling himself from the blonde’s embrace. He straightened the cuffs of his shirt. “I’d like you to meet Jill Morrison, my date. Jill, this is Suzi Lundquist.”

      “Hello,” Jill said before helping herself to yet another cracker. Jordan’s look told her this was not the time to discover a taste for Russian caviar.

      Suzi’s big blue eyes widened incredulously. She really was lovely, but one glimpse and Jill understood Jordan’s reluctance. Suzi was very young, early twenties at most, and terribly vulnerable. She had to admire his tactic of putting the girl off without being unnecessarily rude.

      Jordan