After That Night

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said to Jenna. “Did you order my usual?”

He sent the other man a friendly glance of regret. Without a word the man drifted away and back into the crush at the bar.

Jenna blinked at Mark as he settled in. She’d just been looking at his picture, and now he was here. She felt as though she’d conjured him up.

He arched a dark brow at her. “What’s the matter?”

“What are you doing here?”

His gaze slid away from hers momentarily, back to the blond man at the bar, who had already linked up with another woman. “From the looks of it, saving you from making a big mistake.”

His answer annoyed her. Jenna took a big swallow of her drink to get her wits back. The cute little umbrella got in the way and almost took out her eye. She tossed the wretched thing on the table as the alcohol swirled in her system. “I don’t need saving. I was looking for a little conversation, and now you’ve spoiled everything.”

“Really?” he said. He frowned absently out the window as though something on the street displeased him. “I seem to be very adept at spoiling things today.”

His tone sounded raw. There was such regret carved in his profile that she found her annoyance lessening somewhat.

“How did you find me?”

“I wasn’t actually looking for you. I took a walk to clear my head.” He nodded at her red suit. “That color’s hard to miss, and when I saw you in the window, I thought I’d come in. Where’s your partner? Why are you drinking alone?”

“Lauren’s out enjoying New York. And I didn’t think I was going to be drinking alone for very long.”

He gave her a strange look, and she knew she’d surprised him. Good. The last thing she wanted right now was for one more person to think they knew everything there was to know about dull Jenna McNab Rawlins.

Mark jerked his head in the direction of the bar. “Do you want me to call him back?”

“No.”

“Do you mind if I stay awhile?”

She should have told him to go. He confused her. Her reaction to him confused her. If she ever had a hope of stepping back into the real world and facing the prospect of dating again, Mark Bishop was the last man she should consider practicing her feminine charms on.

Instead, ignoring the sudden racing of her heart, Jenna found herself shrugging nonchalantly. “It’s a public place.”

He laughed lightly as he motioned at a passing waiter. “That’s a pretty tepid reception. Where’s all that warm hospitality Southerners are supposed to be so famous for?”

“We’re not in the South.”

His humor faded. “No,” he said with a rueful shake of his head. “We definitely are not. Today, I feel like I’ve landed on a completely different planet.”

Jenna would never have thought a voice could sound so tense and utterly devoid of hope. She observed him for a long, quiet moment while the waiter took his order. Maybe he really wasn’t the rat Lauren and Shelby Winston claimed him to be.

She watched him play with the napkin the waiter had left. He had beautiful hands. When the silence between them stretched too thin, she cleared her throat. “I’m sorry about what happened between you and Miss Winston. Can you salvage your relationship, do you think?”

His manner was brusque, but not ungracious. “No. It’s over between us.”

“You don’t strike me as the kind of man to give up easily.”

He looked at her. His features were full of fatigue. “Some things just aren’t salvageable.”

“I’m sure…” She stopped, unable to think of anything inspiring to say. He was right. Some things couldn’t be fixed. But she felt the need to say something. She thought of all the lectures she’d endured from her family.

“If you’re made of the right material, a hard fall is bound to result in a high bounce,” she said at last.

His mouth lifted. “Sage advice from your last fortune cookie?”

Her senses swam for a moment, but she knew it wasn’t just the alcohol. She would need to watch out for that smile of his. It was lethal. She shook her head. “No. Unsolicited wisdom from my father after my divorce. And I wasn’t any more receptive to it than you are. Sorry. Force of habit, I guess. In my house, someone’s always getting positive reinforcement. I’m either giving it to my boys or getting it from my father and brothers.”

“Sounds like an interesting family.”

“Sometimes ‘interesting’ is just a polite word for ‘peculiar.’”

“Tell me about them,” he said, clearly ready to move the conversation elsewhere.

She settled her chin on her hand. The discomfort of talking about his breakup with Shelby had passed. God, he was beautiful to look at. Who looked this way outside of Hollywood film actors?

She drew a deep breath. “I have two wonderful sons. Six and seven. I live with my father in Atlanta. I have two older brothers.” She frowned. “I can’t remember how old they are, but they still think of me as their kid sister.” Somehow she’d drained her drink, and now she lifted the glass in the air. “If you want anything deeper than that, you’ll have to buy me another Rum Blaster, because without benefit of liquor, I don’t find my life remotely worth discussing.”

He pinned her with a shrewd glance. “How many of those have you had?”

“This makes three. But they’re girlie drinks, so you really can’t baste the tooze.” She blinked in confusion. “I mean, taste the booze. Gosh, I guess it’s true what they say—the tongue’s the first thing that dissolves in alcohol. Or was that dignity?”

“Have you had any dinner?”

“No.” A colorful row of pineapple, oranges and cherries lay forlornly on a long toothpick in her glass. She pulled them off with her teeth and munched happily for a moment. “Unless you count this fruit.”

“My turn to give advice. Drinking on an empty stomach isn’t a good idea.”

“I’ll write that down,” she said in mock seriousness, patting herself as though looking for a pencil. Her hand stumbled across the bulge in her jacket pocket. “Oh wait, I do have dinner!” She pulled out the small jar of macadamia nuts, tilting it toward him. “Want some?”

“I was thinking of something a little more substantial.”

“They’re awfully expensive, you know? The fact that I’m willing to share them with you means that you must be very, very special.”

Silence. Then he sent her another one of those slow, confusing, blinding smiles. “That’s nice to know,” he said softly.

He was looking at her intently, filling her with an acute and perfect pleasure. How wonderful, she thought, to have a man look at you the way Mark Bishop was. She knew with a helpless, hopeless shudder that she no longer cared what Shelby or Lauren or anyone thought about him.

“Jenna—” her name on his lips was the most seductive sound she’d ever heard “—would you have dinner with me? A real dinner?”

“I suppose,” she said. “I don’t want to throw up.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said with a short laugh. He rose, deposited a few bills on the table and held out one hand. “Come on, I know just the place.”

She seesawed up to her feet, a little surprised at how unsteady she felt. Was it the rum or her damned heels or the effect of standing this close to Mark Bishop? With one hand on her elbow, he led her out of the bar and onto the sidewalk.

They walked in silence, side by side. Jenna clutched her file folder to her chest as if it was the most valuable possession she owned.