Angels And Elves (The Baby Bet #1) Read online

  He’d get the book signed by Miss She-needed-to-lighten-up-and-have-some-fun Jillian, deliver it to his sister, and tell her in no uncertain terms that her request was hereby rejected and his answer was an irrevocable no.

  “Thank you so much,” Jillian said, handing over the signed book. “I hope you enjoy it.”

  “I’m sure I will,” the woman said. “Thank you, Miss Jones-Jenkins. I can’t begin to tell you how exciting it was to meet you.”

  “Good night, and come again,” Deedee said. She unlocked the door and the woman said goodbye with an added promise to shop there often. “Christy,” Deedee said to the teenager behind the cash register, “off you go. You did splendidly under the gun. That was really quite a crowd we had in here.”

  Gun? Jillian thought, swallowing a near-hysterical bubble of laughter. Deedee could have gone all week without saying the word gun. Oh, Lord, the man with the gun, who read cookbooks upside down, was starting toward her. He was stalking. Yes, perfect word. He had a smooth, athletic gait that was like a panther stalking his prey.

  And she was the prey.

  And he had a gun.

  No, no. Wait. She had to calm down. The man didn’t have a gun. Well, not that she knew of, anyway. Her exhausted brain had simply transferred Deedee’s innocently spoken word into a sinister plot. No, there was not a gun. Was there?

  He was getting closer, she thought, feeling another shiver whisper down her spine. His eyes really were brown. Beautiful eyes. In fact, he was an all-around beautiful man. What a shame that he was a sex maniac, who was about to kidnap her and...

  Jillian jumped to her feet and grabbed the only weapon available to her—the pen she’d been using to autograph the books.

  “Stay back!” she yelled, thrusting the pen toward him. “You come one step closer, you fiend, and I’ll...I’ll ink you to death!”

  Forrest stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening in shock.

  “Pardon me?” he said.

  “Jillian?” Deedee called out. She finished locking the door after an exiting Christy, then went to Jillian’s side. “What’s wrong?”

  “This...this villain has been skulking in the aisles for over two hours.”

  “Villain?” Forrest repeated, raising his eyebrows. “Skulking?”

  “Don’t you move.” Jillian whipped the pen back and forth. “Deedee, call the police. Quickly. Go to the telephone and—”

  “Hey, now wait a minute,” Forrest said.

  “Jillian,” Deedee said, “sweetie, you’re so tired you’re not thinking clearly. I’m certain that Mr.—?” She raised her eyebrows questioningly as she looked at him.

  “MacAllister,” he answered quickly. “Forrest MacAllister, but feel free to call me Forrest.”

  “Right,” Jillian said, with a very unladylike snort of disgust. “You probably made up that name the very second Deedee asked you, you miscreant.”

  “Miscreant?” Forrest said. He looked at Deedee with a frown. “Does she always talk like this? ‘Villain? Skulking? Miscreant?’”

  Deedee shrugged. “She writes historical novels. The jargon of the era sort of...well, sticks to her at times, especially when she’s exhausted or stressed.”

  “Oh,” he said, nodding. “Fascinating.”

  “Deedee!” Jillian shrieked. “Would you please call the police?”

  “Calm down, Jillian,” Deedee said gently. “Let’s listen to Mr. MacAllister, Forrest’s, explanation of why he was ‘skulking,’ shall we?”

  “Would you stop being so condescending?” Jillian said, through clenched teeth. “You’re treating me as though I’m a four-year-old throwing a tantrum.”

  “Then quit acting like one,” Forrest said, glowering at her.

  “Well!” Jillian said indignantly. “You’re not only a cad, you’re a rude cad to boot.”

  “Cad?” He rolled his eyes heavenward. “I don’t believe this. A rude cad.” He burst into laughter, then grinned at Jillian. “You’re really something.” She was enchanting, absolutely delightful, as well as being extremely beautiful. “I’ve always had a fondness for the old-fashioned. You, however, take that premise beyond the scope of my imagination. You’re an intriguing woman, Miss Jones-Jenkins.” His smile faded, and he looked directly into her eyes. “Yes, very intriguing.”

  Jillian opened her mouth to retort, then snapped it shut as she realized she had no idea what to say. A tingling sensation danced along her spine and across her breasts before settling low within her. The warm, brown pools of Forrest MacAllister’s eyes seemed to be holding her immobile, unable to think clearly, hardly able to breathe.

  Dear heaven, she thought hazily, what was this man doing to her?

  Not a thing, she mentally answered herself in the next instant. He was just a man, nothing fancy. He put his pants on one leg at time, just like any other man.

  Actually, it wasn’t a good idea to be focusing on the subject of Mr. MacAllister’s pants, Jillian admonished herself.

  But, good gracious, he was gorgeous. There was a blatant masculinity about him, an earthy aura that shouted the fact that he was male. Dear heaven, was he ever male. And those eyes, those pinning-her-in-place brown eyes were—

  Jillian, stop, stop, stop! she scolded herself. She was overreacting to everything because she was exhausted. She’d had enough of this nonsense.

  She tore her gaze from Forrest’s, and dropped the pen onto the table.

  “Oh, perdition,” she said, throwing up her hands. “This is ridiculous. Just what exactly is it that you want, Mr. MacAllister?”

  You, Forrest thought. Jillian’s big gray eyes were incredible. He felt as though he were being pulled into their fathomless depths, into a sensual fog that caused heat to rocket through his body and coil low and tight within him.

  She was a spell weaver. Miss Jillian Jones-Jenkins talked like she had stepped out of the past and into his present. She was rattling him, throwing him off kilter. Well, hell—and perdition, too, for crying out loud.

  “Hello?” Deedee said. “Has a truce been called? Is anyone still awake here?”

  “I’m not a miscreant,” Forrest said, shaking his head. “Okay? Are we clear on that one? I’m here for a purpose.”

  “Do tell,” Jillian said, crossing her arms over her breasts.

  “I’m attempting to do that, madam,” he said, glaring at her. “I bought one of your books when I first came in. It’s behind the counter and has my name on it.”

  “So, why were you skulking?” Jillian asked, leaning toward him slightly. “Answer me that.”

  “Because the book is for my sister, Andrea,” he said, his voice rising. “Andrea MacAllister Stewart? Your friend? You know, the one who’s expecting twins and has been instructed by her doctor to stay in bed because they don’t want the babies to be born too early. She’s very disappointed that she couldn’t come here today.”

  “Of course,” Deedee said, beaming, “Forrest MacAllister. Andrea has spoken of you so often, and was very excited that you were coming home from Japan. And, my, my, here you are. Isn’t this a marvelous surprise, Jillian? We’re finally meeting Andrea’s brother, Forrest.”

  “Mmm.” Jillian lifted her chin a notch. “Being Andrea’s brother does not explain Mr. MacAllister’s lengthy stretch of skulking.”

  “Well, hell, what do you expect?” he said, volume now on high. “Do you think I was going to stand in line with a bunch of giggling, fawning women to have a sappy romance novel autographed? Not in this lifetime, sweetheart.”

  “Uh-oh,” Deedee muttered.

  Uh-oh, Forrest thought, that had not been a brilliant thing to say.

  Fury was building in Jillian like a tempestuous storm, gaining force, soon ready to explode. Eyes that had been radiating gray, pussy willow softness, were now silver daggers prepared to strike him dead. The flush on her cheeks was caused by anger, and her breasts, those full, lush breasts, rapidly rose and fell in an enticing rhythm.

  She was absolutely s
ensational.

  “You...you...” Jillian sputtered.

  “Wait, whoa, halt,” Forrest said. He quickly raised both hands in a gesture of peace. “That didn’t sound right. What I meant to say is...” Think, MacAllister! He was a breath away from being murdered! “A man, any man, is out of his league in a large group of women. It’s overwhelming, you know what I mean?” He produced his most dazzling smile. “I was nervous, shaking in my shorts.”

  “Like hell,” Jillian said, narrowing her eyes.

  Forrest’s smile disappeared. “I don’t think they said that back in the old-fashioned days. Anyway, I’m sure your book is great, really wonderful. I like romance. Hell, I love romance. I’m a very romantic guy. Really. You can ask any woman I’ve ever— Cancel that.”

  “Mr. MacAllister,” Jillian said.

  “Forrest. Call me Forrest. Look, I’m in awe of anyone who can write a book and get it published. All I can do in the writing arena is make out checks to pay my bills. I’d appreciate it if you’d autograph the copy of your book I bought for Andrea. Having your newest novel to read will help take her mind off her worries about the babies.

  “Listen, I’ll read the book myself, cover to cover. I’m sorry if I insulted you. I stressed out because of all those women, that’s all. Would you please sign the book for Andrea?”

  Oh, perdition, Jillian thought, Forrest MacAllister didn’t play fair. There had been an endearing, little-boy quality about him as he spilled forth his sermonette.

  Also evident was a genuine sincerity in his voice, and she knew without doubt that he loved his sister, Andrea, very deeply.

  Ever since she and Andrea had become friends, Jillian had been aware that the MacAllisters were a close-knit, devoted-to-each-other family. When she was growing up she used to daydream, to fantasize, about how wonderful it would be to have brothers and sisters, and parents who—

  “Jillian?” Forrest said.

  “Yes, of course,” she said, smiling. “I’ll be happy to autograph Andrea’s book.”

  “Praise the Lord,” Deedee said, looking heavenward. She hurried to retrieve the book from behind the counter, then shoved it into Jillian’s hands. “Write.”

  Jillian sat down behind the table and did as instructed. A few minutes later, she held out the book to Forrest.

  “There you are,” she said. “I hope Andrea enjoys it. Please tell her that I’ll come visit her very soon.”

  “Thank you,” he said, taking the novel from her hand. “Thank you very much.”

  Again their eyes met, and again neither moved, nor hardly breathed. Currents of crackling sensuality seemed to weave back and forth between them, drawing them close even while they stayed exactly where they were. Their hearts raced, and heat pulsed within as their startling passion heightened.

  “Well, I...” Deedee started.

  “What!” Jillian and Forrest both jerked in surprise at the sound of Deedee’s voice and the spell was broken.

  Placing one hand over her heart, Deedee said, “All I was going to say is that we’re finished here, and you can head for home and collapse, Jillian. I wish I could drive you, but I’m due at a Women in Business meeting.”

  “I’ll call a taxi,” Jillian said, getting to her feet. “Don’t give it another thought, Deedee.”

  “I’d be happy to take you home, Miss...” Forrest paused. “Jillian.”

  “Oh, no, a taxi will be fine, Mr. MacAllister. Thank you,” she said, not looking at him.

  “Forrest. Please accept my offer of a ride. It will help make up for my frightening you while I was ‘skulking.’ At least I now know that I can ‘skulk’ in case the need for it ever arises. I’ll drive you home. Right? Right. That’s settled. Let’s go.”

  “Good idea,” Deedee said. “There’s nothing to worry about, Jillian. We know Andrea, Forrest is Andrea’s brother, and that’s good enough for me. It’s fine with you, too, but you’re too tired to realize it.”

  “But—” Jillian began, but no one paid any attention to her.

  “Jillian came here right from the airport,” Deedee informed Forrest. “Her luggage is in the back room. I’ll let you out the front door so you can get your car. Drive down the alley to the rear entrance and we’ll load you up.”

  “But—” Jillian tried again.

  “Got it,” Forrest said, starting toward the front door.

  Deedee was right behind him.

  “Fine,” Jillian said, throwing up her hands. “Whatever.”

  * * *

  Once the rear door of the store was locked behind Jillian and Forrest, Deedee hurried to the telephone and called Andrea.

  “It was touch and go, Andrea,” Deedee said breathlessly, “but I did it. Forrest is, as we speak, driving Jillian home. Goodness, your brother is a dreamboat. Anyway, so far, so good...well, providing Jillian doesn’t murder him before they get to her house. Now then, tomorrow I’ll...”

  Two

  Forrest’s car was a late-model silver BMW sedan with a plush, gray interior. Jillian settled onto the seat with a weary sigh of pleasure, inhaling the heavenly aroma of rich leather in the process.

  Sleep, she thought. It was a twenty-minute drive to her house, and then she could sleep, sleep, sleep. And during said drive, she would not pay one iota of attention to Mr. Forrest MacAllister.

  The man was a menace. His blatant masculinity had a disturbing effect on her, making her acutely aware of her own femininity. She had felt it—desire—heated and pulsing deep and low within her. Oh, yes, that had been desire; very unwelcome desire.

  Big macho deal, she thought, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. It didn’t mean a thing. It had all been a product of her bone-weary fatigue. Forrest was driving her home, she would bid him adieu, and that would be that. She’d never see him again.

  Never? Never again gaze into those incredible chocolate-brown eyes? Never again imagine what it might be like to sink her fingers into the thick depths of his auburn hair? Never again see his sensual lips, his rugged, handsome face, the wide, solid width of his shoulders? Never again hear the rich timbre of his laughter? Never again...

  Oh, Jillian, please. Just shut up. Think about sleep, and shut up.

  She blanked her mind and drifted off into a light slumber.

  Beautiful, Forrest thought, glancing over at her. He quickly redirected his attention to the heavy rush-hour traffic. He was certain Jillian was asleep. Her breathing was slow and steady, her delicate features relaxed and lovely.

  It would be nice to think that she was so comfortable in his presence, and trusted him enough, that she could allow herself to doze off. Nice, but not true. She was exhausted, and would probably have fallen asleep even if he was the miscreant Jack the Ripper.

  Perdition, he thought, chuckling softly. He really got a kick out of her bygone-era vocabulary. Jillian Jones-Jenkins was a fascinating woman. Unique. Intelligent. Talented. Compelling. Gorgeous.

  But Jillian as one of his Angels and Elves assignments?

  Forrest frowned and narrowed his eyes in concentration. He had to think this through in a logical manner.

  Getting Jillian to take a fresh look at the structure of her existence, to achieve a healthier balance of work and play, was very important to Andrea and Deedee. That made sense. A concern for another person’s well-being was one of the basic ingredients of friendship.

  Andrea, due to her extremely pregnant condition, should be spared any kind of stress or upset. Jillian’s work habits were causing Andrea stress and upset. If he agreed to take Jillian on as an Angels and Elves assignment, he would be able to remove said stress and upset from Andrea’s life.

  He certainly hadn’t planned to grant Andrea her ridiculous request. No, sir, this was to have been a rare moment in history when his little sister wouldn’t get her own way when dealing with big brother Forrest.

  But, well, having twins was serious business, and making certain they didn’t arrive too early was imperative. He still thought Andrea’s
idea was ridiculous, and he was absolutely not going to be manipulated into agreeing to do it.

  What he was going to do, was ask Jillian to go out on a social basis, and nudge her to reexamine her priorities, because he had decided it would be beneficial to Andrea’s state of mind. He was being a loyal and loving brother, a true-blue MacAllister.

  There, now. He had it all figured out and under control. Andrea might think she’d pushed his buttons again, and that she’d manipulated him into taking this Angels and Elves assignment, but he knew better.

  Ah, yes, there were times when a man had to put the needs of others first.

  He glanced at Jillian.

  Times when he just had to do what he had to do.

  * * *

  Darkness had fallen by the time Forrest reached the address Jillian had given him. He found himself in an affluent neighborhood of large, Spanish-style homes on the edge of Ventura.

  As he drove slowly along the circular driveway, motion-sensing security lights came alive, illuminating the entire front of the house.

  Forrest glanced over at Jillian to see if the sudden brightness had awakened her, but she slept on. She still didn’t stir when he stopped the car and turned off the ignition.

  He stared at her for a long moment, resisting the urge to lean across the seat and kiss her inviting and very enticing, slightly parted lips. By sheer force of will, he switched his attention to the exterior of the house.

  Constructed of white stucco with a red-tile roof, it was one story with tall, narrow windows and an intricately carved, dark wood front door. Low, deep-green shrubbery edged the structure, its vivid color a perfect finishing touch.

  Forrest nodded in approval, then turned to look at Jillian again. He tentatively raised one hand, then placed it gently on her shoulder, increasing the pressure of his fingers enough to give her a small shake.

  “Jillian?” he said. “You’re home. Wake up so you can go to sleep.” He frowned; that sounded stupid. “Jillian, yo, Jillian, rise and shine.”

  “Nay, I say,” she mumbled, settling deeper into the seat. “Leave me be.”