movement sent her hair cascading over her shoulder. She shot him an astonished look. “Cornish game hens? Pecan pie?”
“Consuela,” he confessed tightly as he fought the desire to run his fingers through her hair.
Her gaze narrowed speculatively. “She must have suspected you’d be having a special guest here for the holidays.”
Was that jealousy in her voice? Luke wondered. Dear heaven, he hoped not. Jealousy might imply that his feelings were returned and he knew without any doubt that all it would take to weaken his resolve was a hint that Jessie felt as he did.
“Not suspected,” he denied. “Hoped, maybe. Consuela is a hopeless romantic and my bachelor status is a constant source of dismay to her. She stays up nights watching old videos of Hepburn and Tracy, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. I think she’s worn out her tape of
An Affair to Remember
. She wakes me out of a sound sleep with her sniffling.”
Jessie smiled. “A woman after my own heart. Maybe we should watch an old movie tonight. Does she have
It’s A Wonderful Life
or
Miracle on 34th Street?
”
“I’m sure she does, but I refuse to watch them if you’re going to start bawling.”
“Can’t stand to see a woman cry, huh?”
Certainly not this one woman in particular, he thought to himself. He would shift oceans, move continents if that’s what it took to keep Jessie happy. His brother had broken her heart.
As soon as the disloyal thought formed, Luke banished it. Jessie had loved Erik. Their marriage had been solid. It wasn’t for him to judge whether Erik’s decisions had disappointed her. He dragged himself back to the present and caught Jessie studying him curiously.
“Nope, I never could stand to see a woman cry,” he said, deliberately keeping his tone light. “I’m fresh out of hankies, too.”
Jessie grinned. “No problem. I saw boxes of tissues stashed in the bathroom closet.”
Luke heaved an exaggerated sigh of resignation. “I’ll find the tapes right after dinner.”
Dinner was sheer torture. Jessie found the candles Luke had avoided and lit them. The kitchen shimmered with candlelight and the glow from the fireplace. It was the kind of romantic lighting that turned a woman’s complexion delectably soft and alluring, the kind of lighting that stirred the imagination. Luke’s was working overtime. He could barely squeeze a bite of food past the lump lodged in his throat.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Jessie observed.
“Just enjoying the meal,” he claimed.
She eyed his full plate skeptically. “Really?”
He was saved from stammering out some sort of explanation by the sound of whimpers from the bedroom. “Angela’s awake,” he announced unnecessarily and bolted before Jessie could even react.
With the baby safely tucked against his chest, it was easier somehow to keep his emotions in check. Right now he figured Angela was as critical to his survival as a bulletproof vest was to a cop working the violent streets.
“She’s probably hungry,” Jessie said when the two of them were settled back at the table.
The innocent observation had Luke’s gaze suddenly riveted on Jessie’s chest. So much for keeping his attention focused elsewhere.
“She’s not making a fuss yet,” he replied in a choked voice, clinging to the baby a trifle desperately. “Enjoy your dinner.”
Jessie seemed about to protest, but finally nodded and picked up her fork. Luke kept his gaze firmly fixed on the baby.
“How are you doing, sweet pea? Ready for your very first Christmas? It’s almost time for the big show, the lighting of the tree.”
“It’s amazing the effect you have on her,” Jessie commented. “It must be your voice. It soothes her.”
Luke grinned. “Can’t tell you the number of women I’ve put to sleep by talking too much.”
Blue eyes observed him steadily as if trying to assess whether he was only teasing or boasting. Apparently she decided he was joking. To his amazement, he could
“Consuela,” he confessed tightly as he fought the desire to run his fingers through her hair.
Her gaze narrowed speculatively. “She must have suspected you’d be having a special guest here for the holidays.”
Was that jealousy in her voice? Luke wondered. Dear heaven, he hoped not. Jealousy might imply that his feelings were returned and he knew without any doubt that all it would take to weaken his resolve was a hint that Jessie felt as he did.
“Not suspected,” he denied. “Hoped, maybe. Consuela is a hopeless romantic and my bachelor status is a constant source of dismay to her. She stays up nights watching old videos of Hepburn and Tracy, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. I think she’s worn out her tape of
An Affair to Remember
. She wakes me out of a sound sleep with her sniffling.”
Jessie smiled. “A woman after my own heart. Maybe we should watch an old movie tonight. Does she have
It’s A Wonderful Life
or
Miracle on 34th Street?
”
“I’m sure she does, but I refuse to watch them if you’re going to start bawling.”
“Can’t stand to see a woman cry, huh?”
Certainly not this one woman in particular, he thought to himself. He would shift oceans, move continents if that’s what it took to keep Jessie happy. His brother had broken her heart.
As soon as the disloyal thought formed, Luke banished it. Jessie had loved Erik. Their marriage had been solid. It wasn’t for him to judge whether Erik’s decisions had disappointed her. He dragged himself back to the present and caught Jessie studying him curiously.
“Nope, I never could stand to see a woman cry,” he said, deliberately keeping his tone light. “I’m fresh out of hankies, too.”
Jessie grinned. “No problem. I saw boxes of tissues stashed in the bathroom closet.”
Luke heaved an exaggerated sigh of resignation. “I’ll find the tapes right after dinner.”
Dinner was sheer torture. Jessie found the candles Luke had avoided and lit them. The kitchen shimmered with candlelight and the glow from the fireplace. It was the kind of romantic lighting that turned a woman’s complexion delectably soft and alluring, the kind of lighting that stirred the imagination. Luke’s was working overtime. He could barely squeeze a bite of food past the lump lodged in his throat.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Jessie observed.
“Just enjoying the meal,” he claimed.
She eyed his full plate skeptically. “Really?”
He was saved from stammering out some sort of explanation by the sound of whimpers from the bedroom. “Angela’s awake,” he announced unnecessarily and bolted before Jessie could even react.
With the baby safely tucked against his chest, it was easier somehow to keep his emotions in check. Right now he figured Angela was as critical to his survival as a bulletproof vest was to a cop working the violent streets.
“She’s probably hungry,” Jessie said when the two of them were settled back at the table.
The innocent observation had Luke’s gaze suddenly riveted on Jessie’s chest. So much for keeping his attention focused elsewhere.
“She’s not making a fuss yet,” he replied in a choked voice, clinging to the baby a trifle desperately. “Enjoy your dinner.”
Jessie seemed about to protest, but finally nodded and picked up her fork. Luke kept his gaze firmly fixed on the baby.
“How are you doing, sweet pea? Ready for your very first Christmas? It’s almost time for the big show, the lighting of the tree.”
“It’s amazing the effect you have on her,” Jessie commented. “It must be your voice. It soothes her.”
Luke grinned. “Can’t tell you the number of women I’ve put to sleep by talking too much.”
Blue eyes observed him steadily as if trying to assess whether he was only teasing or boasting. Apparently she decided he was joking. To his amazement, he could
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