that pervert!”
“Pervert? You don’t know that he’s a pervert. You don’t know anything about him. And please don’t shout,” she said, touching her forehead.
“And neither do you.”
“Well, I trust Gertie,” she said with a shrug. “Besides, he’s a doctor.”
“He’s not a doctor, he’s a gynecologist!”
“So, that makes him a pervert?”
“Yes! And if that’s not enough to convince you, remember his name is Hubert.”
Placing her hands on her hips, she stared at him wide-eyed. “You should hear yourself. You’re making absolutely no sense. The man probably has women beating down his door for dates, and yet he’s willing to put his life on hold to help me.”
He snorted. “You can’t be that naive, Jane.”
She slapped her hands to her sides. “I’m not naive! And why do you care who I go out with anyway?”
“I don’t,” he said, leaning his hip against the kitchen counter. “It’s just that . . . you’re Sara’s little sister. And I don’t want to see you get hurt. There are a lot of guys out there who would love to take advantage of someone like you.”
“Trust me, I know what I’m doing. And if anyone is going to be taken advantage of, it’s not going to be me.”
“Uh, huh.”
“Besides, if you really cared, you’d help me.”
“Don’t try to make me out to be the bad guy here.”
“Fine. It’s not like I can’t find somebody else. You’re not the only man on the face of the earth, you know.”
“Yeah, there’s always Hubert.”
“You’re just jealous because the man’s done something with his life and you--” She stopped suddenly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that--”
“Yes, you did. Look, Jane, if it’s any consolation, I want you as badly as you want me. But it’s not going to happen. Not in this lifetime. Christ, you’re Sara’s little sister. I don’t know what the hell got into me, kissing you the way I did. But I want you to know I’m sorry.”
“I’m a grown woman who makes her own choices. I stopped asking Sara’s permission a long time ago.”
“You know what I mean. I can’t get involved with you. Okay?”
“Fine,” she said, lifting her chin a notch. “So, are you going to take me to get my car?”
“Sure.” He stood staring at her for a moment before speaking again. “Look, Jane--”
“It’s Janie,” she said, interrupting him. “Only my mother calls me Jane.”
“Okay, Janie, then--”
“If you don’t mind, I’d just assume not talk about any of this with you anymore. Could you just pretend that last night and this morning never happened?”
“Sure,” he said again, knowing that that was totally impossible.
* * * * * * * * * *
Travis ran across the lawn to greet them as Gabe cut the engine on the Camaro. “Uncle Gabe! Aunt Janie!” Livvy trailed along behind her brother, trying to keep up. Both were dressed in bathing suits, flip-flops and huge smiles.
Gabe got out of the car and lifted his sunglasses from his nose. “Hi, guys! Looks like you’re all ready to go.”
Livvy nodded excitedly. “Can Aunt Janie come, too?”
“Uh, sure . . . if she wants to. But I’ll bet she already has other plans.” He hitched a brow, looking her way.
Opening the car door, Janie stepped out. All signs of her hangover had finally disappeared. “I’d love to come with you guys,” she told her niece. “Let me see if your mommy has a suit I can borrow.” She glanced at Gabe, flashed him a pretty smile and shrugged. “They want me to come. Isn’t that sweet?”
“Sweet,” he mumbled, realizing Janie had no idea she’d used a double entendre. Standing by the car, Gabe shook his head and stared after her as she headed toward the house. Great, he thought. How was he supposed to spend the afternoon with Janie half naked and keep his hands to himself, and his thoughts elsewhere? Let’s see . . . I can’t think about kissing Janie, touching Janie, orgasms, or anything else remotely related to sex. He blew out his breath in a huff and looked down at his niece and nephew. “Do you guys have any sand shovels?”
Travis spoke up. “Yeah! Want us to go get ‘em?”
“I sure do. I thought we could bury your aunt at the beach.”
The kids both giggled and ran off.
He had no idea how all of this had happened. But ever since Janie had mentioned her ‘little problem’, Gabe hadn’t been able to think about anything else. Satisfying her seemed to be the consumption of his thoughts, not