Swearing, he left the glass shower stall, aware he had done himself no favors by fantasizing. His erection throbbed, and a surge of jealousy went through him as he thought of her out at a bar, looking so damned beautiful. But he reminded himself he was going to see her in less than twenty-four hours at her family’s Memorial Day picnic. He mentally started working on what he would do to win her, knowing how stubborn she could be. Rory had confirmed his suspicions that she wasn’t the flowers-and-candy type. He would need something more special than that.

Gavin smiled dryly. She would be a challenge, but that was something he was good at. That was what drove him to send a ball over four hundred yards when he was healthy, and he’d be damned if he didn’t find a way to convince Jessica Hart to be his.

With that thought, he slept.

Chapter 25

Jessica whirled on the floor, breathlessly pounding to the beat of Lady Gaga. It was amazing the difference a few well-chosen clothes made, and a decent haircut. She was never alone when she wanted to dance, her glass was continually refilled, and she wasn’t at all lacking for male attention.

For a girl who had spent most of her life in the role of a little sister or a gal pal, it was heady to see admiration in the eyes of the men around her, and something else: desire…

Slowly it dawned on her: this must be what women like Kristin experienced every day. And although she enjoyed the attention, it was disconcerting to think it had nothing to do with education, work, or the kind of person she was. Instead, like the Billy Joel song, it was all about looks and fashion.

The guy she danced with was trying to be funny and flirty, but his eyes kept returning to her cleavage. And when she tried to have a conversation with a Wall Street financier, he didn’t seem at all interested in discussing anything more meaningful than what she was doing later, after the party.

So while her ego enjoyed the stroking, and her body, stirred up entirely too much these days because of Gavin, responded to the overtures sent her way, it all seemed a little hollow. And in that context, a lot less thrilling.

When she returned to her seat to catch her breath, a guy she’d met earlier—named Jason?—joined her immediately with a fresh glass of wine.

“You looked so good out there,” he said, his eyes running approvingly over her face and figure. “You really know how to dance.”

“Umm, thanks,” she said, fanning her brow with the bar menu. She knew for a fact she was a terrible dancer, so she hid a grin at his attempt to compliment her.

“Listen, why don’t we go outside for a walk? You could probably use some air.”

Jessica’s eyes shifted to his. Jason was handsome enough, with his blond hair, blue eyes, and buff body. He was a lawyer working for a high-powered firm in Manhattan. She knew that meant he was financially well off, and he was charming to boot. So when he leaned in for a kiss, she let him.

It was pleasant, his lips brushing hers. But when he tried to take it to the next level and pull her into his arms, she stepped back.

It wasn’t working for her. She could blame it on the noise, the smoke, fatigue. But it was more than that. How could she explain he just wasn’t…Gavin?

The notion was infuriating.

“Listen, I’m sorry. You seem like a great guy. I just…I need to get going.”

He looked disappointed, but nodded as she walked off to find Nikki. She could feel his eyes on her as she spotted the brunette near the bar, but she couldn’t help it. Her mind was churning, and she just wanted to go home.

“I think we should leave.” Nikki glanced over her shoulder with a grin, and Jessica saw the bride-to-be practically asleep at the bar. “I’d say she’s had enough.”

“I’d say so,” Jessica agreed. “I’ll round up the crew while you take Sleeping Beauty to the car, okay?”

“Good plan.”

She had to admit once they were in the car and on their way back home that she’d had a blast. But she was also relieved to be away from the bar scene, the subtle sense of pressure, and the awareness that she needed to straighten her own head out. So when she entered the door of her apartment and put on her pajamas and fuzzy slippers, she felt as if the limo had turned back into a pumpkin, and all was normal again.

Thank God.

—

Memorial Day was the first truly warm day of the season. Jessica rolled down the windows of her car, enjoying the breeze scented with lilacs as she approached her parents’ home in South Jersey.

Cherry Hill was the definition of suburbia, with dozens of developments that had sprung up everywhere along the major arteries. There was, of course, the mall, along with additional stores strategically placed up and down the highway. There was also a multitude of chain restaurants, and the occasional family-owned BYOB that featured better-than-average food. It all had a very commercial vibe to it, designed to part the consumer from his dollar, but some of the older developments still retained a small-town feel.

Her parents lived in one of those. As she drove down the street, tall chestnut oaks shaded the road. A recently abandoned tricycle lay against the curb, while a group of middle-school kids played ball in the sandlot around the corner. The scent of charcoal grills and outdoor fires filled the air, and as she arrived at the split-level where she had grown up, she realized that very little had changed.

The Fishers still lived across the street, their beleaguered neighbor undoubtedly glad that the Hart kids had grown up and moved out. The lawn, her father’s pride and joy, resembled an emerald-green carpet, and the lilac bushes were heavy with flowers. As she headed around the back, she saw that her dad had opened the pool; the heated water steamed in the cool air, and the screened-in porch was all set up for a party.

Her brothers already had the festivities well underway. Rory was seated with a beer in his hand, the game on TV, appearing relaxed and ready to enjoy himself. Colin and Coulter were behind the pool playing horseshoes, while Liam helped himself to a couple of sandwiches and potato salad.

“Hey, Jess. We were just wondering where you were. Good to see you,” her father said, folding her in his embrace. He was wearing a faded blue sweater and smelled like Old Spice and pipe tobacco, two scents she had always liked and associated with him.

“I know. I meant to get here earlier, but had a late night. I picked up a bottle of wine,” she said when his arms dropped, leaving one hand on her shoulder as she held up the Chardonnay. “Is Mom in the kitchen?”

“I think so. Why don’t you go in and say hello, and then pull up a chair? I’ve got steaks for the grill later.”

Nodding, she ventured into the kitchen, where her mother was tossing a salad. This room had been totally redone with the requisite stainless steel and granite, but she could remember it from when she was young and laminate and wallpaper were all the rage.

Her mother glanced up from the sink and gave her a quick hug. “There is an open bottle in the cooler outside, along with water, soda, and beer. My, don’t you look pretty!”

Jessica glanced down at her clothing. She was wearing jeans and a simple top, but when Terrell chose the outfit, the subtle details made all the difference.

Her mother had always been the ultra-feminine type, and was obviously disappointed to have a daughter who enjoyed roughhousing as much as her five boys did. She had tried in the beginning to dress Jessica in frilly little outfits, but soon gave up when she consistently returned home as tattered and ragged as her brothers.