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

for the most part,” Jorge was saying, his low, sexy voice working its way under her skin, thrilling her, “the party’s beginning to wind down.”

      Even as he said it, a wave of cold air wove through the room as the front doors opened and several people made their way out into the night. It was mild as far as winters around here went, but there was no denying that it was still cold.

      More than anything, Jane didn’t want the evening to end. But even Cinderella had to go home at midnight, and she’d already beaten Cinderella’s record by an hour.

      Without thinking, Jane ran the tip of her tongue along her lips. She could still taste him. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the pressure of his lips against hers.

      This was definitely one New Year’s Eve she was going to remember for the rest of her life—no matter how long she lived.

      As if sensing what she was thinking, Jorge asked, “Can I take you home, Jane? Or did you drive over here by yourself?”

      Why did that sound as if she was such a loser, coming to a New Year’s Eve party by herself? Besides, she hadn’t come alone, she’d come here with Isabella.

      But it had been a long time since she’d seen her friend. Scanning the immediate area now, she couldn’t find Isabella.

      “I came with Isabella,” Jane told him, still searching through the sea of faces for a glimpse of her friend.

      The answer coaxed out another smile. “Isabella won’t mind if I bring you home,” he assured her.

      Jane stopped searching and looked at him. “But how will she know? Isabella might get worried if she can’t find me.”

      Now that was downright refreshing, Jorge thought, impressed. He’d hooked up with any number of women at parties who’d left girlfriends—and boyfriends—wandering around looking for them without so much as a second thought. Their focus was exclusively on their own pleasure.

      Jane Gilliam was certainly different from the type of woman he was accustomed to. Maybe she deserved closer scrutiny, he mused. Her kiss had been a definite surprise. Maybe there were other surprises to be uncovered as well.

      “Don’t worry,” he told her, “I’ll leave word at the hostess desk for her. She’s bound to ask there if she can’t find you.”

      Jane hesitated—but not too much. She really wanted to be with Jorge for as long as possible.

      “Well, if you think it’s all right.”

      She couldn’t keep from smiling. Everything inside her was cheering. The evening wasn’t ending yet. She’d gotten a reprieve. Who knew, once they got to her apartment, maybe he’d stay a while for coffee and conversation. She loved listening to the sound of his voice.

      Amused by her shy eagerness, Jorge ran the back of his knuckles along her cheek, then watched, fascinated, as a small nerve along her cheekbone winked in and out as if it was flirting with him.

      “I think it’s all right,” he assured her.

      From across the room, Maria Mendoza was in the middle of instructing several of the busboys to subtly begin gathering up dishes that had clearly been abandoned when she suddenly noticed her son talking to a young woman. Not just talking to her, but leaning in the way he did when he’d singled someone out.

      Squinting, Maria looked closer. For once, the woman who had caught her son’s attention didn’t look as if she was modeling all the makeup offered at a department display counter. In fact, she looked almost sweet. There was nothing brash or flashy about her. And the dress she was wearing wasn’t cut down to her navel.

      She was the kind of young woman, Maria thought as she abruptly stopped addressing the busboys, that she would have personally hand-selected for Jorge.

      She knew her, she realized. Jane…something. Jane Gilliam, that was it. She’d met her once through Patrick Fortune. He spoke very highly of the young woman’s selflessness and her dedication to the children she worked with, as well as her passionate pledge to help every child to learn how to read.

      Several times during the evening, she’d noted that the poor girl was sitting off by herself. At one point, Jane had even taken out a book from her purse and had begun to read. While everyone else had been enjoying themselves, the shy young woman clearly felt cut off by loneliness.

      Well, she obviously wasn’t lonely anymore, Maria thought, pleased. Not with Jorge talking to her. Jane seemed to be hanging on his every word.

      Maria’s mother’s heart swelled with hope and joy. Could Jorge finally, finally be growing up? Could he finally be abandoning that wanton side that had him going from one shallow beauty to another? Had he left that life behind him to turn his attention to a woman of substance?

      She fervently hoped so. Maybe all those prayers to St. Jude, patron saint of hopeless causes, were finally paying off.

      “Señora Mendoza?” Luis, one of the busboys hesitantly tried to get her attention. “You did not finish telling us what you wanted us to do.”

      She needed to get over there, Maria thought, to find out if what she was seeing was real. “Do what you are paid to do, Luis,” Maria told the young man. He needed to show a little initiative if he ever hoped to be anything more than just a busboy. “Must I do all the thinking for you?”

      Luis looked a little chagrinned as he bowed his head. “No, Señora.”

      Maria patted his arm. “Good, then get to it, please.”

      Even as she spoke, she quickly began making her way through the revelers who were still left. But her eyes never left her target: Jorge and the young woman. Though no longer in her thirties, Maria prided herself on still being very quick on her feet when she wanted to be.

      She made it to her son’s side before he had a chance to get away.

      Placing a hand on his shoulder, she could see that she’d caught him by surprise. Good. “Are you leaving, Jorge?” she asked innocently.

      “Yes, in a few minutes, Mama.” And then, for form’s sake—and because he loved her—he added, “If you don’t mind.”

      “Of course I don’t mind,” Maria assured him magnanimously even as her eyes covertly darted toward Jane and then back again. “You’ve been a great help tonight. Your father is very grateful. There were more people here than were expected.”

      Maria paused, waiting. But Jorge was not taking the hint. He wasn’t making any introductions. Maria was not shy about taking matters into her own hands. It was how she’d gotten to where she was now.

      She turned toward Jane, a bright smile on her face. “Hello, you might not remember me, but we met—”

      It was only around good-looking men that Jane found herself almost hopelessly tongue-tied, feeling about as sharp as a button. When dealing with the rest of the world, she became friendly and cheery, which was more her natural state.

      She smiled warmly now at the older woman. “Of course I remember you, Señora Mendoza. Mr. Fortune introduced us last year. He speaks very highly of you every time your name comes up.”

      She was gracious as well as sweet, Maria thought. “As he does you,” Maria responded.

      For a moment, Jorge almost felt as if he were on the outside looking in. It wasn’t a situation he was accustomed to. Moreover, his mother’s behavior was a bit of a surprise. She wasn’t usually this friendly with any of the women he charmed.

      Bemused, Jorge looked from Jane to his mother. He could read his mother’s mind as clearly as if the words had been written on a huge billboard and hung around her neck.

      Sorry, Ma, not going to happen, he thought.

      Granted, Jane was special in her own unique way and he had to admit that he was attracted and somewhat captivated by her, but neither condition