Plain Jane and the Playboy / Valentine's Fortune: Plain Jane and the Playboy

“No, you’re right, he wouldn’t. Just give me a minute to get my party face back in place,” he teased.

Just then, someone bumped into him, hard. If there had been any more space between him and Lacey, he might have actually fallen into her, bringing her down with him. Patrick turned to look at the man who had stumbled into him.

“Sorry,” the other man apologized. “I think I’ve had just a little too much to drink. I’m going to get some air,” he said by way of an excuse.

“Good idea,” Patrick agreed, addressing the words to the back of the man’s head. He stared after him for a second. There was something vaguely familiar about the man, but most likely, it could have just been his imagination. He shrugged his shoulders and returned to the party.

The man kept going, weaving his way in and out of the crowd, working his way to the front door. Once he was confident he was out of Patrick’s sight, his meandering gait ceased.

One down, he thought, a self-satisfied smirk playing along his thin lips.

Chapter Four

Jane still couldn’t quite believe how this evening had turned out. If it wasn’t such a cliché, she would have actually pinched herself to see if she was dreaming.

Jorge had not left her side since he came to ask her about refilling her drink and then remained to utterly rock her world.

She finally understood what that phrase meant. This had to be what Californians experienced when a 7.5 earthquake hit. Even though it was after one o’clock and the kiss that had all but turned her brain to mush, was an hour in the past, the ground beneath her feet still felt as if it were moving. Her insides were still in a state of flux.

But Jorge hadn’t moved on.

After he’d kissed her, all but burning off her lips, he’d stayed with her. Talked with her.

And made her feel beautiful.

Even when the man behind the bar had finally managed to get his attention and signaled to him in an obvious entreaty to return to his post, rather than seizing the excuse and leaving her, Jorge had laced his fingers through hers and had taken her along with him when he went to talk to the bartender.

“Hey, man, I need you to take over now,” Angel said to him, stripping off the black half apron he’d donned earlier.

Jorge made no effort to take the apron from him. Instead, he said, “Ask Carlos to take over,” mentioning the name of one of the waiters working this evening. “He owes me a favor.”

Angel sighed, stashing the apron beneath the bar for the time being. “If you say so.”

Jane felt a little guilty, taking Jorge away from the job he was supposed to be helping out with. “I’m keeping you.”

Jorge turned toward her and smiled into her eyes, creating yet another huge tidal wave inside her stomach. “If that’s what you want,” he murmured.

Jane forgot to breathe again.

When she remembered, after a beat, she tried to draw it in subtly and then release it slowly. She was sure he’d noticed.

God, but she was acting as sophisticated as an escapee from a fifteenth-century nunnery. She really was going to have to get a grip on herself.

But Jorge was like no other man she’d ever met.

He was still holding her hand and that, somehow, was impeding the flow of blood to her brain. She had to concentrate in order to think.

“No, I meant…” She searched for the right words. “That I’m taking you away from your work.”

“Not my work,” he corrected her. “I’m just helping out, remember?”

Right, she thought, he’d already said something about that, about being a businessman, an entrepreneur, not a bartender. Damn, her head felt like a sieve, with all the information she was receiving just leaking out of every pore. She wasn’t like this normally. Ordinarily, she absorbed details like a sponge and retained absolutely everything.

Not this time.

“And for the most part,” Jorge was saying, his low, sexy voice working its way under her skin, thrilling her, “the party’s beginning to wind down.”

Even as he said it, a wave of cold air wove through the room as the front doors opened and several people made their way out into the night. It was mild as far as winters around here went, but there was no denying that it was still cold.

More than anything, Jane didn’t want the evening to end. But even Cinderella had to go home at midnight, and she’d already beaten Cinderella’s record by an hour.

Without thinking, Jane ran the tip of her tongue along her lips. She could still taste him. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the pressure of his lips against hers.

This was definitely one New Year’s Eve she was going to remember for the rest of her life—no matter how long she lived.

As if sensing what she was thinking, Jorge asked, “Can I take you home, Jane? Or did you drive over here by yourself?”

Why did that sound as if she was such a loser, coming to a New Year’s Eve party by herself? Besides, she hadn’t come alone, she’d come here with Isabella.

But it had been a long time since she’d seen her friend. Scanning the immediate area now, she couldn’t find Isabella.

“I came with Isabella,” Jane told him, still searching through the sea of faces for a glimpse of her friend.

The answer coaxed out another smile. “Isabella won’t mind if I bring you home,” he assured her.

Jane stopped searching and looked at him. “But how will she know? Isabella might get worried if she can’t find me.”

Now that was downright refreshing, Jorge thought, impressed. He’d hooked up with any number of women at parties who’d left girlfriends—and boyfriends—wandering around looking for them without so much as a second thought. Their focus was exclusively on their own pleasure.

Jane Gilliam was certainly different from the type of woman he was accustomed to. Maybe she deserved closer scrutiny, he mused. Her kiss had been a definite surprise. Maybe there were other surprises to be uncovered as well.

“Don’t worry,” he told her, “I’ll leave word at the hostess desk for her. She’s bound to ask there if she can’t find you.”

Jane hesitated—but not too much. She really wanted to be with Jorge for as long as possible.

“Well, if you think it’s all right.”

She couldn’t keep from smiling. Everything inside her was cheering. The evening wasn’t ending yet. She’d gotten a reprieve. Who knew, once they got to her apartment, maybe he’d stay a while for coffee and conversation. She loved listening to the sound of his voice.

Amused by her shy eagerness, Jorge ran the back of his knuckles along her cheek, then watched, fascinated, as a small nerve along her cheekbone winked in and out as if it was flirting with him.

“I think it’s all right,” he assured her.

From across the room, Maria Mendoza was in the middle of instructing several of the busboys to subtly begin gathering up dishes that had clearly been abandoned when she suddenly noticed her son talking to a young woman. Not just talking to her, but leaning in the way he did when he’d singled someone out.

Squinting, Maria looked closer. For once, the woman who had caught her son’s attention didn’t look as if she was modeling all the makeup offered at a department display counter. In fact, she looked almost sweet. There was nothing brash or flashy about her. And the dress she was wearing wasn’t cut down to her navel.

She was the kind of young woman, Maria thought as she abruptly stopped addressing the busboys, that she would have personally hand-selected for Jorge.