To A Macallister Born. Joan Elliott Pickart
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soft, as though waiting for a kiss….
Jennifer, get a grip, she ordered herself, averting her eyes from Jack’s. There was that heat again, that damnable heat, swirling low within her, pulsing, causing a warm flush to stain her cheeks.
Jennifer stood, clutching the menus to her chest. Jack rose and offered two more to her.
“Thank you,” she said, nearly snatching them out of his hand. “Brandon, why are you still here? I thought you were going over to your table.”
“We will, sweetie pie,” Aunt Charity said, “just as soon as we figure out what in the blue blazes is the matter with you.”
“Yes, dear,” Aunt Prudence said. “You do seem a teeny bit flustered this evening. Is something wrong?”
Jennifer looked at the elderly aunts. Although they were twins, their mirror image was the only similar thing about them.
Aunt Prudence was wearing a sedate gray dress with a high neck and long sleeves. Aunt Charity was decked out in yards of royal blue taffeta, the dress reminiscent of a turn-of-the-19th-century dance hall costume.
Andrea was standing next to tall, dark and handsome Brandon. Her maternity dress was peach, which accentuated her lovely, silky dark hair. She had an expression of concern on her pretty face.
“I’m fine,” Jennifer said, producing a passable smile. “I just overreacted to something I shouldn’t have overreacted to, that’s all. My imagination got the better of me and…I’m fine now.”
“Hold it,” Jack said, snapping his fingers. “The lightbulb just went on over my head. You saw me on the sidewalk in front of your house yesterday morning. Staring at your home. Casing the place, one might think. Am I getting this straight? Then I showed up here, and that scared the bejesus out of you. Right?”
Jennifer lifted her chin. “That’s correct, Mr. MacAllister. Your behavior unsettled me. I apologize for…” She frowned. “No, I don’t. I had just cause to question your intentions.”
“You betcha,” Aunt Charity said. “There was a stranger gawking at your house, for mercy’s sake. That would shake up any single, unmarried, unattached, not-even-dating-anyone woman who has a little boy to protect.”
“Thank you for sharing, Aunt Charity,” Jack said, smiling at her.
“Just stating the facts, hotshot,” Aunt Charity said, obviously pleased with herself.
Jennifer closed her eyes for a moment and squeezed the bridge of her nose as she drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then she raised her head and forced a smile into place.
“Welcome to the dining room of Hamilton House,” she said, looking at a spot above the assembled group. “May I show you to your table?”
Jack chuckled. “Why certainly, Ms. Mackane. Do lead on.”
“Call her Jennifer,” Aunt Charity said. “She’s a member of our family, and so are you now, Jack. Jennifer, call Jack…Jack.”
“That’s Jack MacAllister,” he said, grinning at Jennifer. “Not Jack the Ripper.”
“Mmm,” she said, glaring at him.
Jennifer marched across the room to the designated table. When the others joined her, she shoved the stack of menus at Brandon, who grabbed them before they fell to the floor again.
“Enjoy your dinner,” Jennifer said, then hurried away.
Everyone settled into their chairs, and Brandon passed out the menus.
“MacAllister,” Brandon said, laughing, “you’ve only been in town a couple of days and you’ve already caused trouble. New York City is probably celebrating your permanent departure, and the citizens of Ventura, California, are shaking in their shorts.”
“Hey, I’m innocent,” Jack said. “All I was doing was admiring a dynamite example of historical architecture—which is badly in need of some tender lovin’ care, by the way. I didn’t intend to shake up the lovely Jennifer. She sure has a temper to go along with that red hair of hers.”
“She’s a handful, all right,” Aunt Charity said, peering at her menu. “Has been ever since she was a little girl. It would take a very special man to be a match for our Jennifer.”
“And a father for Joey,” Aunt Prudence said.
“I assume Jennifer is divorced,” Jack said.
“No, dear,” Aunt Prudence said. “She’s a widow. Her Joe was killed in a construction accident a week before Joey was born. Jennifer returned to Prescott to raise her son. Her parents relocated to Phoenix shortly thereafter due to Jennifer’s mother having severe arthritis. Jennifer is living in their family home.”
“It’s a lovely house,” Andrea said, “but it’s an awful lot for Jennifer to keep up, I’m afraid.”
“I see,” Jack said slowly. “How old is Joey?”
“Five,” Aunt Charity said. “He’s cute as a button. Looks just like his mama.”
Jack frowned. “That’s a good many years to mourn a man, no matter how great he might have been. Aren’t there any eligible bachelors in this town?”
“Oodles,” Aunt Charity said. “Jennifer seems determined never to remarry. Heaven knows, we’ve done our darndest to fix her up with the cream of the crop around here.” She paused. “Maybe we should leap into action again, Pru. After all, Jennifer did catch Megan’s bouquet at the wedding.”
“Indeed, she did,” Pru said, smiling.
“Oh, man, here we go again,” Brandon said, chuckling. “Poor Jennifer.”
“Sounds to me like the lady knows her own mind,” Jack said. “She likes being single. End of story. The same holds true of me. All the matchmaking in the world wouldn’t get me to change my stand on the issue. I’m a bachelor and intend to remain one.”
“Wanna bet, big boy?” Aunt Charity said, leaning toward him.
“You’d better shut up, MacAllister,” Brandon said, shaking his head. “Aunt Charity and Aunt Pru are pros at this matchmaking bit. I was a confirmed bachelor, too, remember?”
“And so was Ben,” Andrea said, smiling. “As well as Taylor.”
“Yep,” Brandon said, nodding. “And now we’re all married. Don’t get too mouthy on the issue, Jack. You never know what the future holds.”
“I know what it holds for me on the subject of marriage,” Jack said. “It ain’t gonna happen.”
“Yes, dear,” Aunt Pru said, patting his hand. “We hear you.”
“Ah, how the mighty will fall,” Andrea said, smiling. “You did tell us the fascinating tale of the baby bet business that took place within the MacAllister clan, Jack. Your cousin, Forrest, was the reigning champion for eons—then kaboom, he was dethroned, so to speak.”
“Yep,” Brandon said. “That’s how the story went. The same could hold true for the remaining eligible males in a bachelor bet. Look at how many of us have taken the fall.” He glanced quickly at Andrea. “And very happily so, my sweet.”
“Nice save, Hamilton,” Andrea said, laughing.
“I’ll be pleased to take your money in a bachelor bet, Brandon.” Jack leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “So would my younger brother, Richard, I imagine. My sister is single, too, if you want to add bachelorettes to the soup.”
“I want a piece of this action,” Aunt Charity said, rubbing her hands together.
“I do believe,” Andrea said thoughtfully, “that our new sheriff, Cable Montana, would be in the camp with you and your brother, Jack.”
“The