Page 20 of Snowflakes Over Starr's Fall
Jack eyed the bottle of red he’d bought in Litchfield—Starr’s Fall did not have a liquor store, which was something that clearly needed to be addressed—wondering if he should open it. He was still marveling at the fact that he had, in a moment of utter recklessness, invited Jenna Miller to dinner. And she, in what he suspected was a similar moment of recklessness, had accepted. Not only that, but they’d done so with anaudience, which meant all of Starr’s Fall was talking about tonight before it had even happened.
Not that Jack had been privy to those conversations. He’d kept his head down, visiting his mother and doing what now amounted to work—reading and checking the stock market, somewhat compulsively even though he was trying to monitor himself—in the house rather than venture into Starr’s Fall and face the speculation. Still, he was pretty sure it was happening, and he didn’t know how he felt about it—or the woman in question.
He was attracted to Jenna, he could acknowledge that much. Whether helikedher or not remained to be seen, but he was starting to suspect that when she let down her defenses she might be funny and smart and interesting. He’d enjoyed their little bit of banter at the end of the Business Association meeting, if that was indeed what it had been. He still wasn’t sure.
But was it going anywhere, even somewhere casual? Did he want it to? And never mind him, did Jenna? He wasn’t even sure he wanted to be thinking this way. He’d always been a planner, an overthinker, at least in business. But in relationships? He hadn’t had enough of them to know.
Jack glanced at the bottle again and then, in another moment of recklessness, reached for the corkscrew. Life was short and his lately had been incredibly boring, so… why not? He was just giving the corkscrew a final twist when the doorbell rang.
He finished opening the bottle, putting it to one side before he quickly checked his reflection in the hall mirror. His wardrobe was full of the same kind of clothes—hand-tailored suits for work and expensive khakis and button-down or polo shirts for leisure. He’d chosen a pale green button-down shirt and navy-blue khakis for tonight, but now he wondered if he looked like a boring businessman. Maybe hewasa boring businessman. Plus, he’d nicked himself shaving, like he was some teenager, and the cut was obviously apparent and embarrassing. She’d think he was nervous, and hewas, which was just stupid.
He’d made million-dollar deals, Jack reminded himself. He’d met celebrities and socialites, he’d dined in their penthouses and partied on their yachts, he’d traveled the world three times over, staying at five-star hotels in every city that mattered. He didnotneed to be nervous about having dinner with some crazy cat-loving spinster from Starr’s Fall, although they’d already both agreed that was not who Jenna was. Whatever. She wasn’t someone he needed to benervousfor.
The doorbell rang again, a slightly more insistent press, which made Jack smile. That was so Jenna. With a spring in his step, he went to open it.
“Hey,” he greeted her, managing to sound relaxed, before he caught sight of her and his jaw nearly dropped. He’d become used to seeing Jenna Miller in her usual get-ups—hippy skirts, plaid shirts, oversized sweaters, overalls, hiking boots. She was not wearing any of those tonight.
Tonight she was wearing a soft red sweater that hugged her curves and gave him a tantalizing glimpse of her generous cleavage. She’d paired it with slim-fitting dark blue jeans and black leather ankle boots, and her hair fell about her shoulders in soft, shimmering waves of red-gold. She looked… stunning.
“I can see you’re as surprised by my appearance as I am,” Jenna told him with a wry laugh. “Zoe Wilkinson sabotaged me. She came over an hour ago and insisted on giving me some kind of makeover.” She handed him a bottle of wine which, at first glance, was of surprisingly good quality. “From my parents’ cellar,” Jenna explained, correctly clocking his look. “They were collectors, once upon a time.”
“Thank you,” Jack replied when he’d finally found his voice. That sweater was… amazing. “Come in.”
Jenna gave him a fleeting, teasing smile as she stepped across the threshold into the foyer, tilting her head back so her hair flowed down her back as she took in the soaring space. “I hope you realize that the entire population of Starr’s Fall thinks we’re on a date?” she remarked, seeming unfazed by the prospect. “If you glimpse a pair of binoculars in the bushes outside, you’ll know why.”
“I suspected there might be a fair amount of spurious interest,” Jack replied, closing the door behind her. He decided not to address the date comment directly, not yet anyway. “Would you like a drink?”
Jenna turned to face him, her hair bouncing around her shoulders like a shampoo ad, her eyes glinting green and gold, her mouth curved in a small, expectant smile. All right, he’d been attracted to her, but it had been somewhat grudgingly, almost against his will, and only because, Jack had told himself, he’d spent the last six months in virtual isolation.
Now he felt the full throttle of that attraction overwhelm him. Jenna Miller was gorgeous.
“What’s on offer?” she asked, and for a second he thought she meant something else entirely.
“I just opened a bottle of red wine,” Jack replied after a second’s pause, his voice only a little strangled, “and there’s white in the fridge.”
She cocked her head to one side, so her hair flowed down nearly to her waist. “I thought you couldn’t drink?”
“I’ve been given the all-clear, for rare occasions only. I decided this is one of them.”
She laughed, the sound soft and musical. “Wow, I’m honored. Then yes, I’ll have a glass of red, if it’s open. Thank you.” He led the way into the kitchen, and she followed, looking around in obvious interest. “Everyone is as curious about this house as they are about our dinner,” she remarked. “I hope you’re willing to give me the full tour?”
Jack reached for two crystal wineglasses from a set of twelve the interior designer had chosen, along with everything else. “If you’d like.”
He poured the wine and then handed her a glass, clinking it with his own before he took a sip. Jenna did likewise, her eyes dancing over the crystal rim.
“This is all feeling very civilized,” she remarked as she lowered her glass. The wine had made her lips look even redder.
“It’s indeed reassuring to know we can be civil to each other,” Jack replied in agreement. “I’ll have you know, I’m not actually a big jerk. At least I don’t like to think of myself as one.”
“And I’m not actually a shrew,” Jenna replied lightly before teasingly parroting, “At least, I don’t like to think of myself as one.”
Jack gave a little rueful wince of acknowledgment as he remembered how he’d actually called her a shrew. That had been a hard day, getting used to a life he’d never asked for and still wasn’t sure he wanted. “That was very rude of me to say,” he told Jenna. “As was writing the review. I don’t think of myself as vindictive, either, but my adjustment to rural life was… bumpy.”
He’d basically been dragged into it kicking and screaming. “If you don’t make some changes, Jack,” his doctor had said, “you’ll be dead in five years, if not sooner.” Jack had been lying in a hospital bed, having just recovered from surgery and practically seen the Grim Reaper standing in the window. He’d taken the doctor seriously… eventually.
“Well, we’ve covered that ground before,” Jenna told him lightly, “so no need to go over it again. Let’s view this as a clean slate, for both of us.” She mock-narrowed her eyes at him. “But if you trash my business tonight when you give your well-meaning advice, we might need to start over yet again.” Before he could reply to that, she held up one hand, slender and long-fingered, as she gave a laughing grimace. “I’m just kidding. Sort of.”
“It feels personal to you,” Jack told her. “I get it.”
