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Plain Jane and the Playboy / Valentine's Fortune
“They should be here soon,” she finally managed to get out.
Finally letting her go, Jorge bent down and quickly scooped up the plates and utensils, wrapping them inside the checkered tablecloth. Securing it, he dumped the whole thing into the picnic basket.
Jane heard the dishes clink against each other. Thinking that he might wind up breaking them, she cautioned, “Be careful.”
He looked into her eyes, soft brown eyes that he’d discovered he could easily get lost in.
“I’m trying to be,” Jorge told her honestly. But he wasn’t all that sure how that was working out for him. Because if he were really being careful, he wouldn’t have allowed his curiosity to bring him here. “Why don’t you give me your home number and I’ll give you a call?” he suggested.
Even she had heard that line before, Jane thought. She’d give him her number, but she wasn’t going to hold her breath, waiting. He’d forget about calling her the minute he got into his car. Sooner, maybe.
But that was all right. This had been very, very nice while it had lasted.
Tearing a piece of paper from the spiral notebook on her desk, Jane wrote down her name and number, then added in parenthesis: the girl you kissed at midnight on New Year’s Eve. Finished, she folded the sheet and handed it to him.
Taking the paper, Jorge unfolded it and read what she’d written. The smile that played on his lips was ever so slightly lopsided. He refolded the paper and slipped it into his pocket.
“You didn’t have to write that down. I know who you are, Jane.”
She lifted her shoulders in a quick shrug. “Just in case you come across that note sometime later and can’t place the name,” she explained casually.
He found her lack of ego refreshing and appealing. Some of the women he’d been with couldn’t walk by a mirror without glancing at their reflection, checking to see that every hair was in place, that their makeup was picture-perfect, and that they were still as alluring as they had been an hour ago. In comparison, Jane seemed far more genuine.
“Even then I’ll be able to place the name,” he assured her.
She sincerely doubted it. She wasn’t the kind of woman who left a lasting impression and she’d made her peace with that. “Thank you for the early lunch,” she said.
Jorge gave her a slightly courtly bow and said, “My pleasure,” just before he kissed her hand.
And then, as her heart launched into double time, he was gone.
But she had no time to savor the last hour or to even review a single sweet moment because suddenly the door opened again and the room was filled with every woman who worked at or volunteered at ReadingWorks. And every one of them was eager for information.
Harriet moved close to Jane, a wide grin on her face. “I guess you must have had a really nice lunch.”
“Yes,” Jane admitted, “I did.” Her thoughts lingered on the feel of his lips moving over hers, stirring things inside her that had never even been touched before. No wonder he had such a following. The man was a fantastic kisser. “It was very nice.”
Jane discovered that it was impossible to keep the smile both out of her voice and from her lips.
She still didn’t have a clue what was going on but one kiss from Jorge and nothing else seemed to matter. At least, not for now.
This was not the time nor the place to daydream, she upbraided herself. They had work to do. The first of the students would be arriving any second.
“Workstations, ladies,” Jane announced abruptly, calling a halt to any other personal questions that might be forthcoming.
She could hear cars pulling up in the parking lot. The first wave of students were being dropped off by their parents. It was time to stop obsessing about a man who was nothing more than a wonderful fantasy and turn her attention to something that actually had substance. Teaching children to read.
“Fine,” Cecilia acknowledged with no small reluctance. “But don’t even think about leaving without telling us everything that happened.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Jane. “If you know what’s good for you.”
Nodding, Jane played along. She did know what was good for her. And it had nothing to do with Jorge Mendoza. But just for now, she could pretend that it actually did.
After all, what could it hurt?
“You, it could hurt you,” Isabella insisted later that evening over the phone. It seemed that rumors were already making the rounds and, concerned, Isabella had called her friend the moment she’d heard. Jane, Isabella was convinced, was far too innocent for the likes of her cousin. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Jorge. Every woman over the age of eighteen months loves Jorge, but that doesn’t mean that he’s the kind of guy you should fall for. That would be a huge mistake, Jane,” she cautioned. “He’ll break your heart. He won’t mean it but he can’t help himself. He’s just one of those guys who can’t stay put.”
“Don’t worry,” Jane tried to sound nonchalant. “I’m aware of his reputation.”
“Good. Keep that in mind.”
Sitting down in the easy chair she’d splurged on when she’d moved into this apartment, Jane kicked off her shoes and then raised her feet. It had been a long day. “What I don’t know is why he wants to go out with me.”
There was silence on the other end of the line, as if Isabella were searching for an explanation. “Because maybe, just maybe, he’s growing up and he realizes that all the other women he’s been with are just bimbos. Trust me, none of them are good enough to walk on the same side of the street as you.”
She laughed softly. Isabella was very sweet. “I don’t think that walking is what Jorge had in mind with them.”
She heard Isabella sigh. “That’s just it. He’s a lover of women.” Because they were cousins, albeit distant, she tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. “I don’t want you getting charmed by him until he can prove that he’s finally matured.”
Too late, Jane thought. She’d already been charmed. Right down to her toes. And dazzled as well. The only thing she had going for her was that she knew that it was only going to last until the next beautiful woman caught his eye. She was just a filler, a way for him to kill time.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy herself. And she’d decided right after he’d kissed her today that she fully intended to.
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