Jessica Howerty fell for her brother's best friend when she was a young girl, and never quite recovered. Now, all grown-up, she knows that a disreputable rake like Jacob Hurst is the last thing she should want. After two seasons in London, she's tir...
"Who can tell?" He shrugged. "I could never explain or predict my father's actions."
He stood up and her breath hitched as he walked over to her and stopped a mere foot away. For a moment he only looked at her, and then he touched her shoulder with one hand, making her shiver. He frowned a little. "Are you cold?"
"N... Yes." She turned her face away, hoping he wouldn't see the truth in her eyes. This attraction she felt for him whenever he was near would be her undoing. If only she could somehow make herself immune to it.
"Jessica," he said quietly, and she turned her face back. "Do you truly not think it would tempt you, should my father propose? Most women would jump at the chance of being a duchess."
She smiled, forcing a light tone. "You forget I'm not most women."
His hand brushed down her arm, sending sparks through her entire body. No longer meeting her gaze, his eyes were fastened somewhere around her collarbones, something she was glad for since she couldn't be certain he wouldn't see her true feelings on her face at that moment.
"No," he mumbled, still without raising his gaze. "I've not forgotten. You're something special."
Taking a shaky breath and extracting her arm from his hold, she motioned to the door. "I... I think you should leave now."
He gave her one of his unreadable looks, and she prayed her attraction to him wasn't too obvious. Finally, he moved and with a last, quiet look at her, he left the room. Closing the door behind him the moment he was over the threshold, she sank down on the floor with her back against it. What was she going to do? This attraction to him was getting worse, especially now that she spent so much time in his presence. It was only a matter of time before she'd say or do something to betray herself. And she didn't want to find out how he'd react.
If only she could find a nice man to fall in love with. Forget Jacob and these disturbing emotions. It wasn't as if she wanted him, anyway. Not truly. A rake was the last man she wanted for a husband, and Jacob was certainly that.
Leaning the back of her head against the door, she stared up into the ceiling. Maybe if she finally allowed another man to kiss her, then Jacob's kisses wouldn't seem so amazing. She had no reference point, nothing to compare to. For all she knew, his kisses could be appallingly bad. He might be the worst kisser in England! The thought made her grin. That seemed unlikely. Still, kissing another man might be just what she needed. And there was a perfectly pleasant viscount in the area who might indulge her.
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Lord Ravenscroft showed up the next afternoon, and Jessica agreed to join him for a stroll through the gardens. Jacob watched them as they made their way outside, sprawled in a comfortable chair, but said nothing. It was probably just as well since she suspected he had some cutting remark in store for the younger man.
The viscount was as pleasant as ever, and she enjoyed their time together. She paid attention to him during their walk and concluded that he was rather handsome with his tall form and broad shoulders. He had a young, clean-shaven face with thick, dark eyebrows and a straight nose. With his hat in one hand, his dark hair glinted in the sunlight. If she was to be attracted to someone other than Jacob, Lord Ravenscroft was a prime example.
