"Seems to me you've got some pretty powerful feelings for that fella."
Jess went to work on the pots and pans with a vengeance. Her father watched for a while, before he said finally, gently, "Seems to me you're in love with him, Jess."
The skillet made a big splash in the sink as it slipped from her fingers. Jess spun around, looking frantic. "I am not! I hardly know the man. He only came to town a few weeks ago!"
Riley eyed his daughter sympathetically. "I didn't have to know your ma long before I was sure I was in love."
"Yes, but . . . everybody was in love with Mama."
"Seems like all the females around here are in love with Devlin. Just look at Flo, acting all starry-eyed."
"Flo doesn't have a lick of sense sometimes. And I'm not in love with him." She was determined not to be in love with Devlin. She was one woman who wouldn't fall for his manipulative charm—even if it killed her.
"
Did he make you an improper proposal?" she heard her father ask.
How should she answer that? She didn't want to lie. And yet to be perfectly truthful, Devlin actually had done little more than steal some kisses from her. She 'd been the one to offer the improper proposal. "No," she mumbled.
"Funny. A man like that, I would have expected him to. Fact is, I'd be downright surprised if he didn't."
Her eyes widened; her father grinned ruefully. "I was a young man myself once. I just hope you know better than to listen to those sweet-talking bucks."
She knew better. She just hadn't acted on her knowledge, to her infinite regret now. Her mother had often warned her about certain kinds of men. They talked smooth and soft, but in the end, they only wanted one thing from a woman—and it wasn't love and a family and a future. Devlin was like that. He didn't want those permanent things. He didn't want her either—
"I'd like you to go Wednesday night, Jess. Will you do it for me?"
She swallowed the tightness in her throat. Put that way, how could she refuse?
Nodding mutely, Jess turned back around and tried to salvage the dishes from the mess she'd made in the sink, but her tormented thoughts wouldn't leave her alone. She was in love with Devlin, even her father had noticed it. She'd only been lying to herself by denying it.
She was in love with Devlin.
And the hopelessness of that love left her so terribly vulnerable.
At exactly six o'clock on Wednesday evening, the elegant hired carriage drew up before the Sommerses' small house and a gentleman stepped down.
Flo was watching impatiently through the parlor window, where they'd all gathered to await Devlin's arrival. "He's here! Oh, my . . . doesn't he look fine!"
Hating herself for her uncontrollable interest, Jess joined Flo at the window and peered out. The sight nearly took her breath away; Devlin was simply striking in black and white—black cutaway evening coat, white waistcoat, white bow tie, white gloves, and tall black opera hat. Even at a distance, his air of elegance and superiority was evident, while the stark hues only intensified his male magnetism.
"Lordy, isn't this gonna be fun?" Flo chirped.
Neither Clem, tugging on his restrictive tie, nor Jess, feeling acutely self-conscious in her three-year-old gown, were inclined to agree. Her high-collared black bombazine with the blond lace trim had always been adequate for church socials and an occasional concert, but it couldn't compare with Devlin's attire for sophistication. Yet her gown was the least of her concerns. Her cheeks burned as she recalled what had occurred the last time Devlin had been in this house. She also remembered demanding that he never darken her door again, yet here he was, merely a week later, strolling up the walk as arrogant as you please.
Riley met him at the front door and ushered him into the crowded little parlor. Jess felt her heartbeat quicken at his entrance. He had no right to look so handsome and desirable. His presence seemed larger than life, overwhelming. And then his eyes locked with hers. Time seemed to stand still as amber clashed with gray. For a breathless moment, Jess felt as if she were the only one in the room . . . the only woman in the world.
But then Devlin had that ability, she remembered bitterly. To make every woman, no matter what her age or appearance or social standing, feel special, feel wanted. She knew exactly how special she was to him. She was worth fifty thousand dollars—which was only pocket change to him. I spend more each year on my horses. How much did he spend on his women?
The ache in her heart intensified at the thought, and only grew worse when Devlin smiled his devastating smile that took in the entire company.
"Ladies." He bowed formally with an ease that made the gesture seem perfectly natural in the little parlor. "How lovely you both look."
Just as naturally, he took Flo's hand and carried it to his lips. The widow went pink and looked as flustered as Jess had ever seen her. Jess, on the other hand, clutched her own hands together and backed up a step, afraid that Devlin would try to work his suave charm on her.
He noticed her gesture, and the sudden mocking amusement that entered his eyes told her very clearly that he knew what she was afraid of.
Jess swore silently at herself. He was so damnedly confident of his practiced power over women—and with good cause. She had meant to be cool and aloof toward him, but already Devlin had her on the defensive.