“So you think you have me pegged?”
Jackson asked innocently.
“I did.”
“And now?” he said in a rough whisper as he touched her. Just the tips of his fingers on her chin, bringing with it an intense heat.
Rain’s awareness of him was so strong that it literally had her rooted to the spot. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. He was closer now, so close that all rational thought vanished.
“You don’t know what?”
She couldn’t answer. Rain knew nothing about this man who’d come into her life so unexpectedly, throwing her off center, making her think things she had no business thinking.
But none of that mattered. Because when he touched her, then slowly lowered his head to kiss her, nothing else in this world existed.
Nothing but the two of them and this one perfect moment.
Predicting Rain?
Mary Anne Wilson
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Mary Anne Wilson is a Canadian transplanted to Southern California, where she lives with her husband, three children and an assortment of animals. She knew she wanted to write romances when she found herself “rewriting” the great stories in literature, such as A Tale of Two Cities, to give them “happy endings.” Over her long career she’s published more than thirty romances, had her books on bestseller lists, been nominated for Reviewer’s Choice Awards and received a Career Achievement Award in Romantic Suspense. She’s looking forward to her next thirty books.
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
495—HART’S OBSESSION
523—COULD IT BE YOU?
543—HER BODYGUARD
570—THE BRIDE WORE BLUE JEANS
589—HART’S DREAM
609—THE CHRISTMAS HUSBAND
637—NINE MONTHS LATER…
652—MISMATCHED MOMMY?
670—JUST ONE TOUCH
700—MR. WRONG!
714—VALENTINE FOR AN ANGEL
760—RICH, SINGLE & SEXY
778—COWBOY IN A TUX
826—THAT NIGHT WE MADE BABY
891—REGARDING THE TYCOON’S TODDLER… *
895—THE C.E.O. & THE SECRET HEIRESS *
899—MILLIONAIRE’S CHRISTMAS MIRACLE *
909—THE MCCALLUM QUINTUPLETS “And Babies Make Seven”
952—MONTANA MIRACLE
1003—PREDICTING RAIN? *
Dear Reader,
The idea of opposites attracting is as old as time and never loses its appeal to the romantic at heart. That concept sparked the idea for book one in my current JUST FOR KIDS day-care center series, Predicting Rain? I created two people so different there didn’t seem to be any way they could ever find each other. But, as in real life, things happen that you never expected, and the heart is as unpredictable as the weather.
Writing about Rain and Jack was touching and lots of fun, but making sure they found each other and lived happily ever after was the best part of all.
Thanks for all the positive feedback on my JUST FOR KIDS series. I hope you enjoy this story and the next two, Winning Sara’s Heart (2/04) and When Megan Smiles (3/04), as much as I enjoyed writing them.
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
London
Jackson Ford knew how to negotiate business deals, take over multimillion dollar corporations and face down a board of directors who wanted his scalp. He could fix anything. He’d have facts and figures, bluff if he had to, or just walk out. But as he crouched in front of the tiny four-year-old girl with her silvery blond hair plaited in two braids, sitting in the oversize leather chair in his study, he didn’t have a clue what to do to make things work between them.
He knew nothing about children and hadn’t planned to learn. Now he had no choice. He tried to use his best I’m-being-reasonable voice when he spoke to Victoria and laid out the facts. “I have to go to Houston, Victoria. That’s in Texas. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. A week, but probably two or three weeks.” Her huge blue eyes stared at him, never blinking, and she said nothing. She hadn’t spoken since arriving on his doorstep a week ago. “I have important business in Houston, and I have to be there as quickly as possible. I don’t have a choice.”
She wouldn’t understand the fact that he’d been the one at LynTech initiating an acquisition of a branch of an up-and-coming corporation, an acquisition that would make LynTech more viable and give it more strength. Or that the acquisition had been totally stopped when their bid became public and others started circling in a feeding frenzy. Playing hardball in business wasn’t pretty, but part of the game. This was beyond hardball. She wouldn’t understand that he felt morally bound to make it work, to salvage the deal. But she could understand that he had no choice in what he had to do. “I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to. You understand that, don’t you?” he asked the mute child.
“Darling, of course she does.” He’d almost forgotten about Eve and from the sound of her throaty voice, she was inches from him, looking over his shoulder at Victoria. “She’ll be fine. You’ve got everything in place, and besides, her father traveled all the time. This isn’t new to her.”
He frowned at her mention of Ian and almost flinched when he felt her press against his back. Eve. Lavender eyes, ebony hair feathered around her elegant face, willowy beauty, and very well versed in heavy-hitting corporate business coming from the Ryders, a family that had been front and center in international business for generations. A real “catch” as his mother had told him so often. Someone who understands what his life is all about. That was true and had been an important part of his decision to marry her. But he didn’t like the way she was dealing with the child right now.
“This is all new to her,” he murmured and stood. “And new to me, too.”
He had a flash of his image in the windows behind where Victoria sat. A tall man, two inches over six feet, not handsome in any traditional sense, with dark-brown hair brushed back from a face that was a bit too strong and a bit too irregular. Eve stood behind him. They’d been set up by mutual friends, and the timing had been right for both of them. Eve was just through a bad relationship, and he’d been considering solidifying his personal life for a while. A month ago, they’d gotten engaged, and a week ago, he’d received the phone call about Ian and Jean.
He looked down at the child who hadn’t moved or taken her eyes off of him. “Victoria, I have to go. Do you understand?”
She sat very still, her tiny hands clutching an old rag doll in the lap of the pink pinafore Eve had bought for her. She gave no indication that she cared what he was saying. If she’d only talk, and say, “Yes, I understand, Uncle Jack,” but that wasn’t going to happen.
When he’d agreed to be the child’s godfather, when he’d agreed to take care of her if Ian and Jean couldn’t, none of them had ever dreamed he’d ever have to make good on his promise. That he’d be dealing with a four-year-old who lost both her mother and father in one fell swoop, who suddenly found herself in the care of a thirty-seven-year old man who worked twenty hours a day, and who’d thought that marriage wouldn’t be a major change in his life. But this child was a major change.
“Victoria, I—” His words were cut short as she suddenly scooted off of the chair, and hurried past both him and Eve. He turned and saw her cross to the nanny in the doorway.
Mrs. Ferris, a slender, gray-haired woman in a deep-lavender dress and sensible oxfords, watched as the child stopped in front of her. The nanny patted the child on the head as she looked past her at Jack.
“Sir,” she said in her soft Scottish brogue. “It is bedtime for the wee one. Can she come with me now?”
He hated that degree of relief he felt that Victoria was leaving the room. “Of course. Good night, Victoria.”
The child didn’t acknowledge what he’d said, just went with the woman without a backward glance. “What a mess,” Jack muttered, closing his eyes as he ran a hand over his face.
Eve was there, her hands covering his, their fingers entwining as she drew his hands down between them. He met her sultry gaze, more than a little aware of the way her all white, short dress showed off her cleavage and her tanned legs that seemed to go on forever. “Darling, don’t worry so,” she said softly. “Everything’s under control.” She came closer, pressing her hips against his. “Everything.”
He felt her against him, and wondered why he didn’t feel anything except frustration over the lack of control he seemed to be having in his life. “I wish that were true,” he said.
She frowned. “I know it’s sad that Ian and Jean are gone, and that Victoria is an orphan.”
“He was my best friend. We knew each other since college.” They’d been as close as brothers back then, two men from totally different backgrounds, but who had formed a friendship that had lasted over the years. Six months ago, Ian and Jean had come to London. Now they were gone. “I never dreamed this would happen.”
“I know, I know,” Eve said softly. “It’s hard.” She frowned slightly. “And the wedding plans are piling up, decisions to be made and you’re off to the States for God knows how long.” Her frown deepened. “Then to suddenly have a child dumped on you.” She shrugged with a degree of distaste. “It’s really quite an inconvenience.”
Her choice of words startled him. Dumped? An inconvenience? He’d been raised by nannies, but he’d had his parents there in the background, no matter what kind of parents they’d been. “I don’t think that Ian and Jean’s dying can be called a simple inconvenience,” he said tightly.
“Oh, love, of course not. I was just…” She shrugged again. “It’s a terrible tragedy, but life goes on. And look what the child has now. You agreed to take over her care, and you’re as rich as…” She shrugged. “Well, you’re well fixed, and you’ll take care of her. She has a superb nanny. Kyle and Betsy loved the woman taking care of the twins.” She smiled, and the expression seemed jarring to Jack. “And she’s going to have beautiful clothes. It’s like dressing a little doll.”
Eve had been good about this, but maybe not exactly realistic. “Everything a girl needs,” he muttered with more than a touch of sarcasm.
“Exactly.” She didn’t catch his mood at all. “And don’t worry about the child. Children are resilient and she’ll adjust. Now, we just have to get you back from the States and get on with things. Go to Houston, and work your magic, then come back and we can go on vacation before the real planning for the wedding gets underway.” She smiled a bit more deeply as she seemed to warm up to that idea. “Somewhere warm and sunny.”
“Sure,” he said, and couldn’t even think about a vacation at the moment. He moved away from Eve, breaking the contact to cross to the massive desk in the wood and leather study, and reach for his briefcase. “Right now I need to get out of here. I don’t want to get tied up at the airport.” He sorted through the papers he had to read on the flight to Houston, dropped them into the case and snapped it shut. “I’ll call you from Houston when I get in.”
“Okay, you go and fix things, then get back here.”
“That’s the plan,” he murmured as he turned to her.
She gave him a soft, lingering kiss, then drew back. “Just remember…vacation.” She turned and headed for the door. “Now, I’m off to see Lady Branson to find out who designed her daughter’s absolutely delicious bridesmaids’ outfits last year.” She stopped at the door and smiled at him. “Remember, vacation.” And she left.
He heard the entry door click shut behind Eve. Even through the thick walls of the century-old row house, he heard Eve’s sports car’s motor rev to life, then drive off in a squeal of tires. The next moment, Mrs. Ferris appeared in the doorway. Her expression was somber, but then again, that seemed to be her normal appearance. “The driver is at the side door with your car, sir, and the wee one is in bed, one light on, eyes closed. She did not have her milk, just refused it, and wore the pink nightie Miss Ryder bought for her. I hope that is acceptable.”
He turned and said, “Yes, it is.”
“She has that doll with her, too. I think it might be close to a health hazard. Both the doll and its clothes need cleaning.”
That was the least of his worries. “Buy her a new doll.”
“That is not it, sir,” she said, with more than a touch of reproach in her voice. “She would not want a new doll, but that doll is dirty, and I just wanted to mention it so you know that I’m aware of the dangers.”
He was quite certain Mrs. Ferris was aware of everything, and he didn’t want, or need, a blow-by-blow description of what she knew or didn’t know. “Do whatever you think is best,” he said, his tone a bit more clipped than he’d intended.
“As you wish, sir,” she murmured.
“You have all my phone numbers, my contacts at LynTech, and my e-mail address,” he said as he gripped the briefcase. “If anything comes up, Miss Ryder can assist you. The bottom line is, just give the child whatever she needs.”
“That’s another thing, sir.” She crossed her arms on her chest. “I was always believing that spoiling a child, no matter what the reasons, was wrong. Children need rules and schedules. Trust me, that gives a child a sense of security.”
She was probably right. What did he know about kids? He and Eve hadn’t even talked about children, and the only real contact he’d had with children before this, had been when he was a child himself. “Of course,” he murmured.
“It is just my opinion, sir.”
He exhaled as he frowned at the gray-haired woman. “Mrs. Ferris, can we get one thing straight?”
Her lips tightened slightly. “Of course, sir.”
“I don’t know much about children, and I don’t have the time to learn right now. That’s what I’m paying you for, to leave me out of the loop, unless there is a major problem. I trust your professional instincts to do the right thing, so you don’t have to run everything past me. Do you understand?”
Her face flushed slightly. “Yes, sir,” she said.
“Good. Now, tell Victoria goodbye for me, and I’ll contact you when I get to Houston.”
“Yes, sir. Safe trip,” she said and left quickly.
He headed out of the room, and down the narrow wood-lined hall toward the side entrance. A soft sound stopped him, and he looked up the back stairs. It was shadowy, but he saw Victoria on the top step, sitting with her doll, rocking.
“Victoria?” he said, and started up, but Mrs. Ferris was there.
“Don’t trouble yourself, sir, she’s okay, just a mite restless.” The nanny reached down and took Victoria’s hand, urging her to her feet.
“Mrs. Ferris?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, the lady standing by the little girl in the semishadows.
“Stay with her until she falls asleep, and—” he exhaled “—do that every night.”
“As you wish, sir,” she said, and the two of them went silently out of sight into the upper hallway. Jack took a deep breath. He had to leave. He couldn’t change that. When he got back, he’d worry about the wedding plans and about a silent four-year-old girl. Right now he had to focus on Houston and what was waiting for him there.
Jack had barely landed in Houston when the phone rang in the company car. As the driver drove out of the airport, Jack answered the phone. “Jack? Zane. Glad you made it in.”
Zane Holden, one of the two men who took over LynTech from the founder, Robert Lewis, sounded rushed and anxious. “What’s going on?” Jack asked, settling back in the soft gray leather.
“We’re just waiting for you before we make a move toward Sommers.”
“He’s in Houston?”
“Not yet. He’s in New York at the moment. If we get lucky, he’ll agree to handle the negotiations himself, instead of using a middleman.”
E. J. Sommers, the founder and head of the EJS Corporation, wasn’t an easy man to pin down. He didn’t do things the way other corporate heads did. He was more freewheeling, more unstructured, and that bothered Jack. But the branch of EJS Corporation that LynTech wanted was a gem. A real find. “Any word on how our interest in EJS got out?”
“We’ll talk about that when you get here. I called Robert Lewis in on it as a consultant. We need his take on things.”
“That’s a smart move. No one knows the business around here like Robert.”
Robert Lewis had been Jack’s father’s friend from college days, just the way Ian had been his. Ten years ago, when Jack’s father had died, Robert had been there. Robert had known the full story about Jack’s father, and he’d been the one to trust Jack to make things right. He owed Robert a lot and, despite the fact that the company wasn’t Robert’s any longer, it meant a lot to the man, and Jack wasn’t going to let him down.
“Did you find a nanny?” Zane asked.
Jack grimaced as he remembered his last glimpse of Victoria alone at the top of the stairs. He was surprised that the co-CEO of LynTech was worried about a nanny. He’d dealt with Zane for over a year, and knew that his son, Walker, was the center of his existence along with his wife Lindsey, but he didn’t expect him to take much of an interest in his child care situation.
“It’s all settled,” he said and realized that he’d just uttered a lie of staggering magnitude.
“Good. The child, the little girl, is she okay with the nanny?”
That was when he realized why Zane was asking. It wasn’t the child he was asking about, he was asking if Jack was in any condition to give one hundred percent to the problem at hand. That annoyed him slightly, that Zane would even think that he wouldn’t be effective in a crisis. “She’s fine with the nanny, and she understands I had to leave.”
“I never found a good nanny when I needed one.”
He knew enough about Zane to know what he was referring to, when his son had been dropped into his life. When Lindsey, now his wife, had stepped in to be a mother to the boy, and they’d become a family. There was a vague similarity between his and Jack’s predicaments with child care, except Victoria wasn’t his, and…well, Eve was Eve. She’d stepped right in, too. She’d found Mrs. Ferris and promptly bought Victoria a whole new wardrobe. She smiled at the child, pouted about her private time with Jack being limited, then blissfully went on with her plans.
“My fiancée found the nanny through a friend,” he said, thinking that maybe Eve didn’t have overwhelming maternal instincts, but then again, he’d never had any great paternal instincts, either.
“Lindsey thought that you could have brought the child with you and she could have been cared for at the day-care center at LynTech while you worked.”
Zane had even recruited his wife to make sure Jack was focused on the crisis. Maybe his father’s reputation had preceded him with Zane. He hoped not. The car slowed and Jack looked out at the downtown street where the headquarters for LynTech were located. “Thank her for me, but Victoria’s just fine in London. We’re outside. I’ll be up in a few minutes, then go to the hotel later on.”
“That’s another thing. The hotel’s not going to work out for this. It’s overrun with people involved in the charity ball that’s being planned by LynTech. You wouldn’t have any privacy.”
“Then where am I staying?” he asked, caring only that he could work uninterrupted.
“No hotel rooms are available on short notice, so we decided on a loft we’ve got set up not far from the offices. Lots of privacy, and it’s wired directly to here.”
“Fine, whatever,” Jack murmured. “See you in a few,” he said and hung up as the luxury car approached the entrance for the parking garage.
SEX AND SILK. It had to be a dream, because Jack was never poetic, and he knew that he’d never met the owner of the voice that was filtering around him in the blackness.
After getting only a few hours’ sleep in the last two days, Jack had counted on sleeping for six hours before getting back to work. He’d been at the offices since arriving from London, took a nap in a side room off of Zane Holden’s office, and this was the first time he’d made it to the loft. He’d planned to sleep hard, then get to work on his own without interruption.
He just hadn’t expected to dream, because he never dreamed. At least, he never remembered any dreams. He’d set his internal clock for a few hours and slept…his usual pattern. Get hard sleep, then work hard. But now there was a dream that consisted of a single voice, low murmurs, floating around him. Soft. Seductively feminine.
“Oh, come on,” the voice whispered. “Come to me.”
Sexy, inviting, seducing him, even though it barely existed.
“That’s it, love. Come on. Please? Come to me. Now.”
No pictures, no images, just him listening, drifting, waiting, the sound tingling through his body, giving him pleasure.
“Good, good.” The whisper floated softly. “That’s it. Come on, baby, that’s it. Closer, closer.”
The voice was seeping into his being, making him ache for more, then it was gone. He woke suddenly, not sure what had just happened. But his heart was pounding in his chest and his body ached, a painful remnant of his reaction to the voice in his dreams. He took shallow, rapid breaths while he stared up into the shadows overhead, trying to make his body let go of the dream.
Damn dream! He shifted onto his side, wide-awake now, but froze when he saw a dull glow coming over the partial wall that divided the sleeping area from the kitchen. When he’d come in, he had turned on the overhead lights to get oriented, showered, then turned off all the lights and climbed into the king-size bed. The only things he’d left on were the fax machine and computer, waiting for incoming messages. Now a light was on in the kitchen. He heard a shuffling sound, then a faint clink.
Someone was there.
Zane? Matthew Terrell, the other CEO? Rita something-or-other who worked for both men? He looked at the clock and the glowing LED panel read 2:13 a.m. No, Zane wouldn’t be here at this time. Zane wouldn’t be anywhere, but with his family. Neither would Matt or anyone else from LynTech.
He listened, heard another sound, a low humming and he moved. He stood, grabbed his pants and put them on quickly, forgoing his shirt and shoes, then debated his options. Call someone, stay quiet and hope whoever was there would leave, or go out and confront the trespasser.
He considered his options, then heard another soft sound, of a drawer being opened, then closed. He made his decision. The best thing to do was to get out of the loft without being seen, but be prepared just in case. He looked around in the shadow-darkened room for anything he could use as a weapon, and the best thing he could see was a lamp by the bed that looked solid. He reached for it, took off the shade and took out the bulb, then unplugged it and wrapped the cord around the base that felt like rough stone.
He held it like a club and it felt heavy and solid. Cautiously, he approached the door that led into the main living area of the loft. He paused, trying to remember the layout of the loft. Basically one cavernous space, divided into areas by six-foot high walls that came short of touching the lofty ceilings by at least another six feet. Polished hardwood floors, rough white plastered walls, plain furnishings, just two sprawling navy couches, a television in a unit on the far wall, a few tables, some stacked boxes, no carpets that he remembered. The communications-work area took up most of the back wall, on a twelve-foot table set up under high louvered windows, and framed by towering floor-to-ceiling windows on either side.
Simple and clear. He just had to get to the door without being noticed. He cautiously looked out into the main space, and knew luck was with him. Whoever had broken in had left the front door open enough for a thin sliver of light from the corridor to cut into the room. He glanced to his left, to the glow of a light beyond the partial wall that defined the kitchen area. Carefully, he eased into the space, staying as close to the wall as he could while he slowly made his way to the right and the escape of the open door.
He’d gone only a few feet when he heard something that stopped him in his tracks. The voice. The one from his dreams. This time it was softly singing a song he vaguely remembered from somewhere in the past, maybe an old Bob Dylan song…or some folk song? A simple melody sung in a breathy whisper. Then the song stopped when the voice said softly, “So, you don’t like music, huh? Bummer.”
There was no response. Just the voice again, “Okay, okay, I get the idea.” Followed by a low chuckle. “I’ll stop.”
The idea of going out the entry door was forgotten and Jack found himself moving silently toward the kitchen, the lamp base firmly gripped. The voice. He’d been right. A feminine voice. A woman, and she seemed to be talking to herself or maybe on the telephone. He didn’t have a clue if there was a phone line in the kitchen. He lifted the lamp base slightly as he approached the wall, then looked into the kitchen area.
He saw the owner of the voice that had invaded his dreams, the person who invaded the loft. It didn’t make sense. She was tiny, definitely alone, not more than an inch over five feet tall, maybe one hundred pounds soaking wet and she had her back to him as she leaned forward over something on the counter. She looked tiny in an oversize T-shirt fashioned in brilliant, tie-dyed colors of reds, blues and yellows. It was barely long enough to brush the tops of her bare thighs. Her hair so blond it was almost silver, fell long and straight down her back, almost to her waist, and her feet were bare. There was something at her slender ankle, jewelry of some sort.
Whatever fear he’d had at the intrusion was gone, replaced by curiosity and something else. That stirring he’d experienced in the dream was back full-force, fed by the way her long hair shifted in a silky veil when she moved, and by the seductive lines of her bare legs. He just watched. Her hands shifted to her hips, the action hiking the T-shirt higher on her thighs while her feet shifted on the cold hardwood floor.
“Okay, bud, you’re on your own,” she said a little louder now, but the voice didn’t lose any of its sexiness.
This was ridiculous, standing here, watching, listening. He made himself move farther into the room, still gripping the lamp base, and he made himself speak up. “What’s going on?” he demanded.
She jerked around, her long hair flowing like a veil, then she was facing him. If the voice had been disturbing, looking into huge brown eyes set in a delicately boned face, seeing seductively full lips softly parted in surprise and watching her rapid breathing press her high, small breasts against the soft cotton of her shirt, stunned him. His jumbled thoughts and spontaneous responses were so unlike anything he’d experienced before with any woman, that he was literally frozen to the spot. He simply stared at her.
WHEN RAIN ARMSTRONG heard that voice, she spun around. Her heart pounded against her ribs, and she couldn’t take a decent lungful of air to save her life. Fear choked her and she had to blink twice before she could make out a man not more than six feet from her in the shadowed kitchen. A man who had appeared out of nowhere in a loft that was supposed to have been deserted.
All she could do was stare at him, tall and lean, standing by the entrance, half lost in the fringe shadows of the space. She could tell he was wearing nothing but dark slacks and that he totally blocked any means of escape. He had something in his right hand, something that look ominously heavy and lethal, raised as if ready to strike her.
Even though she couldn’t move, her mind raced. Get out! she screamed in her head. Just get out any way you can! But she didn’t know how to do that. The only weapon she had was the can opener she had been using to open the cat food, and it was hardly a weapon.
He took a single step toward her. “I asked what’s going on? What are you doing in here?”
She swallowed hard. “Wh-what are you doing in here?”
“You first,” he muttered as he took another step forward.
She tried to back up, but her waist hit the counter behind her. She darted a look past him, the space between him and the door rapidly expanding. Maybe she could get around him before he could react. But then again, maybe he’d just hit her with the thing in his hands. He was tall, a good foot taller then she, somewhere in his mid to late thirties, and from his near naked state, she could see he was fit. Lightly tanned skin stretched taut over hard stomach muscles, a chest with just an arrow of dark hair and disturbingly broad shoulders. His angular face was partially shadowed in the dim light, but she could see the slash of dark brows over hooded eyes, a slightly crooked nose, all framed by dark hair, short and somewhat spiked.
Pulsuz fraqment bitdi.