HEATHER MACALLISTER - The Boss and the Plain Jayne Bride

Taking a step closer, she inhaled, as if to absorb his essence into her being, and let her breath out on a sigh as her eyes traced the contours of his face.

From the cleft in his chin, her gaze climbed the steep slope of his cheekbones, waded through the blue pools of his eyes, tangled in his black brows, slid down an impossibly straight nose and landed in the valley between his lips.

His lips. Jayne shivered and clutched the class roster to the bodice of her navy-blue suit Not skinny lips and not full, blatantly sensual lips; these lips were kissing lips. Athletic lips.

Jayne had never been privileged to kiss or be kissed by such a pair of lips. And even if a man of her acquaintance possessed such lips, he wouldn’t know what to do with them. Jayne doubted she would know what to do with them, either, but she was willing to learn.

Her watch beeped the hour. Lost in the valley of the shadow of his lips, Jayne tried to ignore the beep but a restless shifting and a few stray whispers among the two dozen people seated before her told her she’d better start class.

Drawing a breath, she spoke the words which would send the stunning god back to Mount Olympus. “Welcome to Small Business Accounting sponsored by the accounting firm of Pace Waterman. I’m Jayne Nelson, your instructor.” She paused, waiting for him to leave.

He regarded her with an impassive blue gaze.

“We’ll be meeting twice a week for six weeks,” she continued, and looked at him expectantly.

He smiled a politely devastating smile. He had dimples. Jayne smothered her small whimper before it could escape.

“I’ll call roll, so I can get to know you.” Please be on the list. Please be on the list.

Suppressing the impulse to skip all the female names, Jayne began at the top of the alphabet and was rewarded when a deep male voice answered, “Here” to the name Garrett Charles.

Garrett Charles. Jayne Nelson Charies Jayne Charles. Jaynie Charles. Mrs. Garrett Charles. She sighed and raced through the rest of the roster.

He was on the list. He had actually paid money to take the class. He belonged here. The accounting gods were smiling on her.

Pace Waterman offered a variety of courses and seminars such as this one geared toward people who were thinking of starting their own businesses. Naturally Pace Waterman hoped that the business would grow and eventually require the services of one of their accountants, especially during income tax season.

The account executives took turns teaching the seminars and this was Jayne’s rotation.

Lucky Jayne.

She set the roster on the table, remembering to suck in her moussaka-laden stomach.

“Ninety percent of all start-up businesses fail within one year due to lack of sufficient operating capital,” she began, wondering what kind of business Garrett Charles was in. He looked like the restaurant type.

Why don’t you ask him? “I’m going to go around the room and have each of you tell a little about the business you have or plan to start. Then I can tailor the class more to your needs.” I’m good I’m really, really good.

Boutiques, bookstores, craft stores, a couple of fastfood franchises, restaurants and...

“I’m taking over the family modeling agency,” he said.

Of course. She should have known that Garrett Charles was either a model or an actor.

A feminine purr greeted his announcement as the women unconsciously straightened spines and hair. The men wore varying looks of disdain and threatened manhood.

Jayne’s stomach muscles hurt. “I don’t know anything about the modeling business,” she blurted out. He knows that. All he has to do is look at you. You’re five-three and...curvy. And why did you let Sylvia give you a home perm?

“And I don’t know anything about the accounting business.” Garrett stretched those gorgeous kissable lips of his into a smile that revealed teeth so straight and white they wouldn’t need retouching in a photograph. His dimples deepened and Jayne’s knees quivered. “I suppose that makes us even.”

Even. She was even with a man who could look good in fluorescent lighting.

“And I don’t know anything about this accounting stuff, either, but I sure would like to,” prompted one of Jayne’s male students. “So let’s get on with it, already.”

She couldn’t remember the man’s name because she hadn’t been paying attention when she called roll.

Turning to the man, Garrett presented his perfect profile to Jayne. “And what business are you in, Mr....?”

“Name’s Monty. My mother-in-law is coming from Italy to live with the wife and me. She likes to cook.” He shrugged. “Friend of mine, he’s got a restaurant down in Montrose and he’s ready to retire. I got a mother-in-law who needs something to do. I figured, let her cook.” Monty spread his hands. “So I bought the place.”

“And then you found out about the paperwork, right?” Garrett’s eyebrows arched.

Monty made a disgusted sound. “You ain’t kiddin’.”

Garrett had deflected Monty’s heckling and Jayne fell a little bit in love with him for it. However, this was her class and she could handle herself.

“Most of you are probably feeling overwhelmed by the financial records you must keep for the government.” There was murmured agreement. “That’s exactly why Pace Waterman recommends that you take this overview. Then afterward, when you meet with one of our account executives, you’ll be able to make an informed decision about whether or not you need further assistance.” And naturally, Pace Waterman was standing by to offer that assistance, which an average of thirty-seven percent of the people finishing the seminar accepted—and paid for. The rest either dropped out, decided that owning their own business wasn’t such a good idea after all or actually did their own bookkeeping. Rarely did they contact another accounting firm, a fact Pace Waterman used to justify subsidizing the courses.

Jayne removed a stack of papers from the table and passed them out. “This is a schedule of the subjects we’ll discuss. If you miss a topic, you may come to that session during another seminar.”

While the class rustled the papers, Jayne distributed the course notebooks, vinyl binders with the Pace Waterman logo prominently featured. Jayne’s distaste for the relentless self-promotion was offset by the valuable information contained in the binders. Informed clients were satisfied clients was the Pace Waterman philosophy, to which Jayne heartily subscribed.

The binders were on a small cart that Jayne wheeled around the room.

She was going to see Garrett Charles up close. Would he be just as devastatingly attractive? Would there be some minute flaw in his appearance? Jayne refused to look his way until she was actually handing him his notebook.

He glanced up to smile his thanks and Jayne’s gaze collided with his. Her breath caught. She couldn’t move. She barely felt him slide the binder out of her nerveless fingers. The Pace Waterman mint-green and burgundy conference room ceased to exist as Jayne lost herself in the marvel that was Garret Charles.

He had beautiful skin the color of buttery leather with the slightest darkening above his upper lip. She inhaled and was pleased to discover that he wore no scent.

“Thank you.” His deep voice broke the spell that paralyzed her.

Flushing, Jayne lurched toward the next student.

And bashed the cart into Garrett’s knee.

She knew it the instant she felt the bump. “I’m so sorry!” she gasped as he grimaced.

But it was an elegant, manly grimace, quickly smoothed.

“No.” He waved away her apology and briefly massaged his leg. “I should have moved my foot out of the aisle.”

“But it must hurt!” Jayne knelt to inspect the damage, brushing at the place on his khaki-clad thigh where the cart had left a dark smudge.