your territory?”
Jeff’s smile vanished. “I was playing the part we agreed to play. You, on the other hand, seemed to have forgotten I existed, flaunting yourself in front of those men like some…some…”
“Single woman?”
“You’re not single, at least not for the moment. You’re supposed to be engaged to me. It doesn’t reflect very well on me if my fiancée is throwing herself at every man who walks by—”
“You have totally lost your mind. I was making pleasant conversation. Anyway, if you don’t want me talking to other men, you could be a bit more attentive yourself. You disappeared while I was in the rest room.”
“Another ice age came and went while I was waiting for you. What were you doing in there?”
Allison abruptly lowered her voice. “Ix-nay, shark warning, three o’clock.”
“What?”
“Sherry!” Allison whispered. “And she’s heading this way.” Allison knew she ought to let Jeff sink in his own macho pool—just blow the whistle on him right here and now. But then she wouldn’t get dinner at Antares. At least, that was what she told herself.
“Well, hi, you two!” Sherry greeted them, coming up between them and putting her arms around both of them. “Where are you two lovebirds off to this evening?” Her nose was practically twitching, trying to find a weakness she could sink her teeth into.
“Antares,” Jeff said, suddenly turning into the devoted fiancé. “It’s one of Allison’s favorite places.”
“I’ve never eaten there,” Sherry said. “I’ve heard it’s wonderful, unless you have motion sickness. Personally, I just don’t think my food would settle with the restaurant spinning circles that high up in the air. You don’t have that problem, do you, Allison?” She looked at Allison, all innocence.
“Um, no.”
“I get car sick just thinking about it. I’d order something light if I were you. Well, you two have fun. That’s my car.”
The valet had just delivered a red Firebird. Sherry disengaged herself from Jeff and sashayed to her car, where two other women joined her.
“Thank you,” Jeff said under his breath.
“I’m not going to renege on our deal just because you’re acting like a Neanderthal.”
“Listen, if you want to go out to dinner with Tom What’s-his-face, just say so. Seems Sherry’s safely occupied for the evening.”
“Oh, no, you’re not weaseling out of our dinner,” Allison said, doing her best to hide her hurt feelings. She’d been looking forward to this romantic dinner all week. Apparently, he wasn’t. “I’m ordering the most expensive thing on the menu.”
Despite her threats, Allison ordered a modest dinner. She kept thinking about what Sherry said about motion sickness. The restaurant’s movement was so subtle you couldn’t really feel it—unless you were thinking about it, which Allison was. The last thing she wanted to do was spoil the evening further by becoming nauseated.
So she ordered a chicken breast and picked at it, barely sipping at the expensive wine Jeff had ordered to accompany their meal.
But, really, could the evening be any more spoiled? She and Jeff had never fought like this before. Even though they eventually apologized to each other, and Allison admitted that she had been flirting, and Jeff admitted that he’d overreacted, the bloom was off the rose of this evening. The panoramic view could have been a dingy brick wall for all the attention Allison paid it, and the food might as well have been sawdust.
JEFF CRINGED when he saw the bill. He wouldn’t have minded paying a sky-high price for an enjoyable evening. But dinner had been an ordeal to be survived.
He still felt angry, even though he and Allison had apologized and were talking. He couldn’t bring himself to tease her, the way he usually did. Their conversation was stilted, almost forced. He’d never had trouble talking to Allison before.
They returned to the hotel and practically raced each other upstairs. She seemed as eager to end the evening as he was. She beat him to the door with her key already out, then scurried into the bedroom and closed the door.
When she opened it again, she was wrapped head-to-toe in one of the hotel’s roomy terry cloth robes. Her hair was slicked back from her face with a stretchy headband.
For some reason, her appearance was reassuring. Jeff relaxed slightly. Allison seemed suddenly more like his friend, less like the fake fiancée she’d been pretending to be in public.
“I’m done in the bathroom,” she announced.
He brushed his teeth and washed his face. When he came back out of the bathroom, Allison was sitting stiffly on the sofa, watching the news. She immediately stood.
“Guess I’ll turn in.”
“The wake-up call’s for six,” he reminded her. “It’ll ring in your room. If that’s too early, we can change it.”
“No, that’s fine. I want to work out. Good night.” With that terse dismissal she retreated into the bedroom and closed the door.
Jeff found an extra blanket and pillow in a closet, then undressed and stretched out on the sofa. The sofa was large, so it wasn’t terribly uncomfortable. He shouldn’t have had any trouble falling asleep, especially after the glass of wine he’d drunk with dinner.
But sleep eluded him. He was as tense as a coiled spring, and he found himself checking the illuminated dial on his watch every five minutes or so, wondering how long before he could relax.
He’d never in his life had insomnia. Something he ate, maybe? He couldn’t even remember what he’d eaten. All he could recall was staring covertly across the table at Allison, wanting to shake her.
Now that was just patently stupid. He’d never touched a woman in anger and he wasn’t going to start with his best friend. But why in the world was he so mad at her? And he was still mad, there was no denying it.
The truth hit him like a truckload of concrete. He was jealous. All those men flirting with Allison had brought out every savage instinct in his reptilian brain. He’d wanted to challenge Tom to a duel, run him through for daring to look at Allison’s breasts—which was exactly what the jerk had been doing.
He couldn’t possibly be jealous—that was ridiculous. If he’d wanted to make a conquest out of Allison Crane, he would have done so by now.
Or…maybe not. He talked with Allison all the time, and she told him all kinds of personal things. But maybe not everything. Maybe she had a string of boyfriends he wasn’t even aware of.
He’d just never thought about this before. Allison dating, going out with men. She was in her midthirties, close to his own age. She’d said she couldn’t see him married, but he’d never even thought about Allison falling in love, marrying, having kids.
Now he did—and it filled him with the most awesomely uncomfortable pricklings.
It couldn’t be jealousy, it just couldn’t be. Brotherly protective instincts—that was it. All big brothers resisted the idea of their little sisters falling in love, getting married…having sex.
Relieved to have put a name to the strange phenomenon, Jeff was finally able to relax and fall asleep. But the next morning those foreign feelings assaulted him anew, stronger than ever.
He and Allison ordered a light room-service breakfast. The waiter set the food up at a small round table, and Jeff and Allison sat down to eat, both of them in their exercise clothes. Jeff’s gaze was drawn again and again to Allison’s breasts, revealed rather fetchingly in a clingy blue shirt.
No wonder Tom had stared.
Allison ignored him and read the paper, which