An Irresistible Bachelor(54)



Jack put the car in gear and they hadn't gone two yards before he asked, "So what do you think of Gray?"

"I think the two of you were separated at birth," she said, looking out her window.

On the sidewalk, people were milling around in the cold, going in and out of restaurants. A couple caught her eye, a man and a woman walking close together. He was staring ahead, she was looking up at him and they both had wide smiles on their faces. They were young, she thought. Midtwenties. So close to her own age.



"But what about him," Jack prompted. "Any chemistry?"

The girl hip-checked the guy, pushing him off balance, and he threw his arm around her, bringing her close. As the Aston Martin rounded the corner, she lost sight of the couple.

"Callie?"

She shook her head. "Sorry, I got distracted."

"By what?"

Dreams, she thought. My own and others'.

"Nothing. Gray's likable. Very smart. Handsome."

Jack looked over at her sharply.

When he refocused on the road, he muttered, "I suppose he is good-looking. But you should know his appendix scar is frightening."

As he maneuvered them onto a highway of some kind, she had no idea where they were and was glad the traffic was light. She leaned back against the soft headrest, hoping he'd get them back to Wellesley in one piece.

Blair. His fiancée's name was Blair.

How proper. How elegant.

But what did she expect? That he'd marry an Irma? A Gertrude?

As visions of a long-limbed, well-dressed socialite with perfect diction and an impeccable bloodline went through her head, Callie closed her eyes and prayed for a distraction.

Maybe she'd still find one in Gray Bennett, she thought.



As he drove them home, Jack was feeling less than satisfied with the obvious success of the evening.

So. She thought Gray was handsome.

That bastard.

God, he wanted to kick himself for bringing them together. Now that his plan for hooking her up might be working, he hated that she thought some other man was handsome. Smart. And what else? Oh, likable.


Likable. What the hell did that mean?

Jack glanced over at her. She had her head back against the rest and seemed to be looking out the window. Streetlights and the headlights from other cars flared over her features.

"Callie?" She tilted her head around. "Are you going to go out with him? "

She shrugged and turned away.

He stared at her, trying to divine the answer in the lines of her face.

"Jack! Watch out!"

He snapped his head forward and wrenched the wheel, just in time to swerve and miss a car that was broken down at the side of the road.

"Christ," he breathed as the screeching faded. "That was close."

Callie clutched her chest with her hand. "You've got to learn to slow down."

"I know."

And he probably had to stop making brilliant plans, too.

They were silent until he pulled into Buona Fortuna's garage and shut the car off.

"Thanks for dinner," she said, opening her door.



"So are you? " he asked.

Callie stepped out and bent back down into the car. A long, thick curtain of red hair fell forward and swung in the air. He wanted to thread his fingers through it, pull her down to his mouth, and kiss her until she didn't think his friend was so smart or likable or handsome.

"You mean am I going out with Gray?" "When he nodded, she said, "Yes, I am."

And then she shut the door in his face.

Jack jumped opt and caught up with her in three strides. She was walking quickly, her heels clipping across the driveway.

"When?" he demanded.

"I don't know."

"Are you calling him?"

"He's going to get hold of me."

"Where will you go?"

She shot him an annoyed look. "What's with the twenty questions?"

"Do you really like him?"

Callie stopped and put her hands on her hips. "No. I thought he was perfectly gruesome, which is why I agreed to see him again. Anything else you want to know?"

Are you attracted to him, he thought. Are you going to let him kiss you? Are you going to make love with him?

His stomach churned. The thought of her with his friend, with any other man, made Jack feel like someone had hit him with a tire iron.

Jessica Bird's Books