Jenny tried to tamp down her growing excitement but found it impossible to do. “There’s an important client that needs to speak to me right away.” It wasn’t a lie. At this point, all of her clients were important. “I hope you don’t mind, but he’s on his way over here right now.”
Her mother’s expression turned to bafflement—as if she couldn’t take in what was happening. “No. I don’t mind at all.”
Jenny knew she should make small talk with her mother, maybe even inquire further about her brother’s search for a new lawyer or her sister’s multiple birth delivery, but all she could concentrate on was the glorious call from Zeke. A customer. Needing to see her right away. Here. At her mother’s restaurant. It was all just too wonderful. She’d known . . . she’d just known when she’d woken up this morning that her life was about to take a turn.
The wait seemed to take forever. And then, just when she didn’t think she could take it any longer, a low growl vibrated through the restaurant.
Jenny, her mother, and several of the restaurant’s patrons looked up to see what was causing the noise.
A huge, gleaming black motorcycle rounded the driveway’s last bend and cruised into the parking lot. Sunlight glinted off the polished chrome.
The rumblings grew louder, rattled the windows. As the driver maneuvered the monstrous Harley around to the side of the building, Jenny lost sight of him. A few moments later, quiet descended.
Seconds crept by, and then there was the sound of the front door being opened . . . closed . . . boots thumping down the hallway. And then he filled her line of vision, and everything inside of her went still.
Oh my . . .
“Jenny?” her mother questioned, but Jenny couldn’t respond. Something told her she’d just gotten her first glimpse of Blue Sky’s newest client.
He strode into the restaurant as if he’d been there a thousand times before, pausing only when he reached where the hallway ended and the restaurant began. As he scanned the interior, Jenny couldn’t help but take a thorough look at him.
He was tall—at least six two—and in his black leather jacket he looked like a walking ad for Bad Boy USA. His hair was as black as a starless night and short, almost as if he’d only recently begun to let it grow out. The short cut was probably the only thing that kept it from being a rumpled mess, since he’d been wearing a helmet. Then again, Jenny got the distinct impression he was one of those men who always looked good, whether they’d just gotten off of a motorcycle, out of the shower, or out of bed.
Bed . . .
The jolt hit her unexpectedly. It was the first time in over nine months her mind had gone down that path, and she felt a pinch of guilt. No, more like a good ol’ slug.
He was one of those rare individuals who commanded attention whether they were in a boardroom or on a boardwalk. Or in a tiny bistro on the edge of a lake.
Her mother leaned close, whispered, “Sit up straight, Jennifer, and smooth your hair.”
She barely heard what her mother was saying, because at that moment his gaze connected with hers. “Ms. Beckinsale,” he said when he reached her table. His voice was deep and low.
“Y-yes.” She cleared her throat. He was so close she could see the faint lines that fanned out from the corners of his eyes; something told her those creases hadn’t been caused by laughter. More than likely, judging by his tan, they’d been caused by a life spent outdoors.
“Hello.” He flashed her a killer grin, showing off his perfect white teeth. Spellbound, all she could do was stare. Dimly, she became aware of a movement to her left and belatedly remembered her mother. “This is my mother, Catherine Beckinsale.”
He turned and gave her mother that same bone-melting smile. “Ma’am.”
Jenny was surprised to see that her mother seemed rattled.
Catherine cleared her throat. “How do you do, Mr. . . . ?”
The visitor looked at Jenny when he responded. “Worth. Jared Worth.”
He waited, as if his name would have some effect on her, but all she could think about were his eyes. They weren’t brown, as she’d originally thought, but a deep, deep midnight blue framed by full, spiky lashes. And they seemed to reach inside to a part of her she’d kept buried