Plain Jane and the Playboy / Valentine's Fortune. Marie Ferrarella

really meant them. Sure, he had always liked women—loved them—but he had to admit, even though it unnerved him a little, that he had never quite felt this way before.

      In general, he was captivated by vivacious women who liked life in the fast lane. Women who knew that having any long-term designs on him would only be futile.

      Until New Year’s Eve.

      This one was different, he thought, not for the first time. This one was not the kind of woman you enjoyed for an unspecified amount of time and then moved on from. Jane Gilliam was the kind of woman his mother would have called the marrying kind.

      Jorge knew himself, knew that he had no desire to get married, to be tied down to one woman. But be that as it may, he couldn’t seem to get himself to just walk away.

      The coat he’d been left holding in his parents’ restaurant could have easily been delivered to Jane in a number of ways, none of which involved his putting in an appearance. But he hadn’t wanted to just ship the coat off to her. He’d wanted to bring it to her in person. And find out why she’d left the restaurant so abruptly.

      More than that, he realized, he’d wanted to see her again.

      He told himself that it was to prove that there’d just been something about that particular night that had attracted him to her—and now it was gone.

      But seeing her, seeing that strange combination of vulnerability mixed with an endearing innocence and sense of wonder, was stirring something in him. Something that he couldn’t quite identify.

      Something, he thought, that made him a little uneasy. Maybe he should leave well enough alone and leave it nameless. Because, at bottom, it was something that had the potential to scare the hell out of him because he couldn’t seem to exercise control over it. And he didn’t like not being in control.

      “Why?” Jane heard herself finally asking.

      She was being stupid, she silently upbraided herself. Any other woman would have just eagerly absorbed the attention, however fleeting, of easily the best-looking man in Red Rock. By questioning she was almost guaranteed to chase him away.

      And yet, she had to know his motives.

      She liked things to make sense and this just didn’t.

      She was familiar with some of the women Jorge had been seen with and there was just no way she fit into that category. She was neither drop-dead gorgeous, nor the owner of a body whose curves could make a grown man weep.

      She did have, Jane knew, a good heart, but that wasn’t something that was visible to the naked eye and she was fairly certain that Jorge wasn’t out to add a girl scout to his extensive collection of conquests.

      “Why?” he repeated her question incredulously, not sure what she was asking.

      “Yes.” Summoning her courage, she decided to be direct. “Why do you want to see me again?”

      No one had ever asked him that before. Every woman had just jumped at the chance. Jane was a challenge all right. “Because I’m attracted to you, Jane,” he told her. “Isn’t that why most men and women date one another?”

      Date? He was asking to date her? As in seeing her more than once?

      For one wild, wonderful moment, Jane felt as if she’d suddenly slipped into the Twilight Zone. Lost for words, she bit into the sweet cake she’d been holding in her hand. Her mouth full, she stalled for time, desperately trying to understand what was going on here.

      She couldn’t make herself believe that she’d hit the jackpot.

      Maybe it was karma, something Isabella had mentioned to her on several occasions. The young woman felt that life was a series of checks and balances. Isabella had told her more than once that someone as good as she was was definitely on track to be on the receiving end of something wonderful.

      She figured that the New Year’s Eve kiss had wiped that slate clean—until she’d overheard those two boys talking.

      Jorge glanced at his watch. He was due at a meeting with a client soon. Besides, the receptionist had told him that Jane had someone to tutor in less than an hour. Even so, he felt a reluctance to get up and leave.

      Standing up, Jorge extended his hand to her. She accepted it almost hesitantly. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it struck him that the feel of her hand in his seemed very right somehow. He tamped down the thought.

      Still holding her hand, he pulled Jane up to her feet and wound up pulling her closely against him.

      Sparks began to go off up and down her body, sending out alarms, quickening her pulse. He made no effort to put space between them. Instead, he just stood there, holding her. Making her warm.

      And then her heart all but stopped as she watched him lower his head. Their lips met.

      And Jane felt herself slipping into a dark, velvetlined abyss.

      Hardly aware of what she was doing, Jane laced her arms around Jorge’s neck. Her body leaning into his, she kissed him back as if her very life depended on it.

      And maybe it did.

      Because if she hadn’t kissed him back with such verve, she would have surely gone under for a third time and drowned in ecstasy.

      All in all, she thought in her heart of hearts, that wouldn’t be such a bad a way to go, dying with a smile on her lips.

      “I guess I’d better be going,” Jorge murmured, drawing back his head.

      But even as he said it, he continued holding her, his hands resting on the swell of her hips. He could feel desire coursing through his body. She was arousing a hunger in him that couldn’t be addressed at the moment.

      But soon, he promised himself. And as soon as that happened, he knew that this attraction would fade.

      It always did.

      “You said you had students to tutor soon and I don’t want you getting in trouble on my account.”

      Too late, she thought.

      Jane searched her empty brain cavity for something to say. She’d never been a brilliant conversationalist, but until now, she’d been able to hold her own. That wasn’t the case anymore.

      “They should be here soon,” she finally managed to get out.

      Finally letting her go, Jorge bent down and quickly scooped up the plates and utensils, wrapping them inside the checkered tablecloth. Securing it, he dumped the whole thing into the picnic basket.

      Jane heard the dishes clink against each other. Thinking that he might wind up breaking them, she cautioned, “Be careful.”

      He looked into her eyes, soft brown eyes that he’d discovered he could easily get lost in.

      “I’m trying to be,” Jorge told her honestly. But he wasn’t all that sure how that was working out for him. Because if he were really being careful, he wouldn’t have allowed his curiosity to bring him here. “Why don’t you give me your home number and I’ll give you a call?” he suggested.

      Even she had heard that line before, Jane thought. She’d give him her number, but she wasn’t going to hold her breath, waiting. He’d forget about calling her the minute he got into his car. Sooner, maybe.

      But that was all right. This had been very, very nice while it had lasted.

      Tearing a piece of paper from the spiral notebook on her desk, Jane wrote down her name and number, then added in parenthesis: the girl you kissed at midnight on New Year’s Eve. Finished, she folded the sheet and handed it to him.

      Taking the paper, Jorge unfolded it and read what she’d written. The smile that played on his lips was ever so slightly lopsided. He refolded the paper and slipped it into his pocket.

      “You didn’t have to write that down. I know who you are, Jane.”

      She