Joan Pickart - To A Macallister Born

“I’m sorry,” Jack said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Jennifer frowned. “Oh? You seem to be making it your life’s work as far as I can tell.”

Jack closed the distance between them and extended a gold foil covered box toward Jennifer.

“My peace offering,” he said, smiling. “A token of sincere apology for upsetting you by staring at your house. Sweets for the sweet, and all that.”

Jennifer looked at the box, Jack’s face, the box, then narrowed her eyes as she met Jack’s gaze again.

“Aunt Pru and Aunt Charity put you up to this, didn’t they?” she said.

“Well…” Jack said slowly.

Jennifer sighed and took the offered box of chocolates. “All right. So be it. I accept your apology, and the whole business is forgotten. You didn’t have to stay up until midnight to do this.”

Jack shrugged. “I’m a night owl.” He paused. “May I walk you to your car?” What? he thought incredulously. Where did that come from? His intention had been to hand over the dumb candy, then head to his room and the soft bed that was waiting for him.

Jennifer laughed, and a bolt of heat shot through his body, causing him to frown at his now-familiar reaction to the lilting sound.

“You really don’t want to volunteer to walk me to my car, Mr—Jack,” Jennifer said. “It’s parked in the driveway at my house. Thank you for the candy. My son, Joey, and I will enjoy it. Good night.”

“Wait a minute,” Jack said, as Jennifer started to move around him. “How are you getting home if you didn’t drive to work?”

“I walked. Since you’re so familiar with the location of my house, you know it’s only a few blocks away, and the weather is surprisingly mild for mid-November in Prescott.” Jennifer shrugged. “So, I walked.”

“Are you nuts?” Jack said, his voice rising. “You can’t stroll along the sidewalk at midnight. You’ll get mugged before you go ten feet.”

“I certainly will not,” Jennifer said, matching his volume. “This is Prescott, Arizona, not…wherever it is you’re from.”

“New York City, and I don’t care if this is cute little Prescott. You’ve got no business walking home alone at this hour.”

“I do it all the time.”

“Well, you’re not doing it tonight,” Jack said, taking her elbow. “Let’s go.”

Jennifer jerked her arm free of Jack’s grasp.

“You are, without a doubt, one of the pushiest, rudest men I have ever met,” she said. “You may be Brandon’s friend, but that doesn’t mean that I have to like you—which I don’t. Good night, Mr. MacAllister.”

Jennifer marched toward the front doors of the hotel. Jack fell in step beside her, causing her to stop as she placed one hand on the door latch.

“Now what?” she said.

“I’m going for a midnight walk, that’s all,” Jack said, smiling at her. “If I happen to meander in the direction of your house…sue me.”

“You’re really exasperating, do you know that?” Jennifer said. “Fine. Whatever. I’m not wasting any more of my time arguing with you. Your death, however, will not be on my conscience.”

“What death? I thought you said it was safe out there on the streets.”

“Oh, it is. However, you’re not even wearing the sport coat you had on at dinner. This is not shirtsleeve weather. If you get pneumonia and croak, it will serve you right.”

Jack chuckled. A shiver slithered down Jennifer’s back as she heard the sexy, male rumble.

“I don’t suppose,” he said, “that you’d wait while I went to my room for a jacket, would you?”

“Not a chance.”

“Didn’t think so.”

“End of story,” Jennifer said, lifting her chin. “Goodbye.”

Jennifer pushed open one of the doors and left the hotel.

Jack followed right behind her.

The night was clear, crisp and incredibly quiet.

A million stars twinkled in the black-velvet sky, creating a silvery beacon to show the way as Jennifer and Jack turned the corner and left the lights of downtown Prescott behind.

Jack shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and hunched his shoulders against the chill as he matched Jennifer’s long-legged stride along the sidewalk.

He was out of his tiny mind, he thought, mentally shaking his head. He probably would catch pneumonia and croak, which would be his just desserts for this ridiculous performance.

There he was, slowly freezing to death, as he escorted a woman—one who didn’t wish to be escorted —home at midnight. Yep, he was definitely certifiably insane.

But…well, what could he say? A foreign sense of protectiveness had consumed him when Jennifer had announced she was about to walk home alone. There was no way he could just stand in the warmth of the hotel lobby and watch her set out on her own.

Oh, man, he was cold. He needed to do something to shift his attention from the fact that the blood was freezing in his veins. So, MacAllister, talk to Jennifer.

“Well, here we are,” he said.

“Mmm,” Jennifer said.

“Sure is quiet.”

“Mmm.”

“I’m used to New York, you know, the city that never sleeps.”

“Mmm,” Jennifer said again.

Jack sighed in defeat and trudged on.

Jennifer slid a glance at Jack, then looked quickly back down at her feet. She was being rude, she knew, by refusing to engage in the simplest conversation. But she just couldn’t chatter like a magpie. Not yet. Not until she regained at least a modicum of control over her raging emotions.

She was acutely aware—again—that Jack’s powerful male presence was causing heat to thrum within her despite the chill of the night.

But something more unsettling her now. When she’d realized that Jack intended to see her safely to her door even though he didn’t have a jacket to wear, she’d had to struggle against very unwelcome tears.

Dear heaven, how long had it been…if ever…since she’d felt protected and watched over by a man?

How long had it been…if ever…since she had been made to feel special and important due to the actions of a man?

How long had it been…if ever…since she’d been able to relax and just be, because someone else had stepped in and taken charge?

Jack’s stubborn insistence on walking her safely home had touched a place deep within her, and she’d been nearly overwhelmed by the emotions that gesture had evoked.

Oh, Jennifer, stop, she ordered herself.

Jack MacAllister wasn’t Prince Charming riding to the rescue of a damsel in distress. He was a smooth operator who was accustomed to having his way with women, a man who rarely heard “no,” she figured, from a member of the opposite sex.

They had engaged in a battle of wills of sorts, on the subject of her going home alone, and Jack obviously couldn’t deal with losing the war. So there he was, freezing his tush off in order to proclaim himself the victor. What a dunce.

“Cold?” Jennifer said, glancing over at Jack.

He chuckled. “You’d better believe it. This was a pretty dumb thing to do, but my big-city instincts kicked in and…Well, I was obviously wrong. This town is buttoned down so tight, we haven’t even seen a stray dog.”

“You’re admitting that I was right?” Jennifer said, surprise evident in her voice.

“Yep.”

“Oh.” She smiled. “Fancy that.”

“What did you think? That I was on a big macho trip here? It’s hard to be a hero when there aren’t any dragons to slay.” Jack laughed. “What I am is a six-foot popsicle.”

Jennifer stopped walking, and Jack skidded to a halt.

“Jack, this is silly,” she said, smiling. “Why don’t you turn around and head back to the hotel. Jog or something to get there as quickly as possible. I appreciate your gentlemanly gesture here, but as you can see, it really isn’t necessary.”