She’d never met a man who talked the way Jack did. He was open and honest and liked to laugh. He told jokes with a skill she could only envy. Much as she loved books, words had never come easy to her. She’d labored over the exact phrasing of the letter she’d sent to the municipality on Seth Wilbee’s behalf, pleading for an extension of his order to move. Next week she intended to go to the open council meeting to speak up for the poor man.

She felt vaguely depressed. Where was their meal? “Next thing you’re going to say, I suppose, is that you fell for me right then and there. Or something like that.” Some line! She’d hoped he wasn’t like that. How many women did he try that on? I’ve always had a soft spot for redheads/blondes/brunettes. She sniffed. She wanted to blow her nose, badly. A bimbo, that was what he thought she was.

“But it’s true, Hannah. I did.” His voice was very deep and he looked more serious than he had all night. If he was acting, he was good at it. “I wasn’t going to say anything, not yet. It’s only our second date, right? But it is true. I saw you in the hotel lobby and something inside me just went Bingo, this is it, Jack. This is the one for you— What’s the matter?”

Hannah felt blindly for her handbag, which she’d set down somewhere near her feet. “I—I have to go, uh, do something. I’ll be back in a minute.” She stood up, jarring the table and making the dishes rattle. If only she could reach the ladies’ room before she burst into tears.

Jack Gamble. The man of her dreams. And he’d said he’d be interested in her friend, if he wasn’t so darn interested in her.

He’d said she was exactly his type. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Sexy. Line or not, no one had ever called her those things before. And after this evening, no one ever would again.

Except maybe Joan. What kind of life was that—depending on a bird for compliments?

CHAPTER SEVEN

JACK STARED after her. There was nothing wrong with her eye. It was him; it had to be him. He’d come on too strong, dammit. He hadn’t meant to say all that about her being the one for him. And doing his dumb pig impression—was that any way to impress a lady? There was just something about Hannah. She made him do things. Say things. Confessions he wouldn’t have told his best friend—or barber. And he’d only seen her twice, known her less than a week! Less than a day, when it came right down to it.

“Your wife? She will be back?” The server looked worried as she began to place the serving dishes on the table.

“In a few minutes. Hey, this looks good.” Jack made an effort to be enthusiastic. The last thing he wanted at the moment was a meal he didn’t recognize. He wished he hadn’t tried for a big impression and had just taken her to a local steak house, which would have been his preference. But right now he didn’t give a damn about food, Japanese or otherwise. He wanted to follow Hannah, make her tell him what the problem was, comfort her, apologize, promise her anything, if he could just start over and this time not put his size-twelve caulked boot in his mouth.

“We have some sushi and California rolls for you. Also sunomono—cold noodle salad with rice vinegar…” Man, that sounded terrific, Jack thought glumly.

“And fish—yuan zuke.” She beamed at him, but her dark eyes still looked worried.

“Thank you. My, er, my wife will be back soon. Some sake, too, please?”

The server hurried off again.

My wife. He liked the sound of it. My wife.

Jack shook his head and took a deep breath. He was dreaming—again. He glanced over his shoulder. Hannah was coming back.

“You okay?” he asked as she took her seat across from him. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks were red. She’d combed her hair and put on fresh lipstick.

“Fine. This looks delicious!” She seemed determined to disregard their earlier conversation. Who was he to argue?

“Great. Sushi?” He held the platter out to her and managed to manipulate his chopsticks well enough to unload two interesting-looking bite-size pieces of rice and something else onto her plate.

They both dipped and ate at the same time. Hannah chewed slowly. Jack wasn’t sure what he’d just eaten, but it was definitely raw. Fish? Shrimp?

She smiled slightly and swallowed. “It’s not cooked,” she announced, frowning. Then after a few seconds she shrugged and reached for another piece. “Not bad, though.”

Jack had to agree. Whatever it was, it was tasty. He had the feeling that any meal he shared with her would be perfect.

She drank a lot of the sake in the tiny stoneware cups provided. Jack stopped at one small cup, since he was driving. They didn’t talk much after the rest of the meal arrived. He concentrated on handling his chopsticks and not slopping food all over himself. Hannah was quiet, which worried him. This date didn’t seem to be going very well, and it had started out with such promise.

Finally Hannah seemed to come to some kind of decision. He had no idea what she’d been mulling over; he was just relieved she wanted to talk to him again.

“So,” she began, with a big smile. Her eyes sparkled and Jack wasn’t sure how much had to do with the sake she’d drunk and how much had to do with his scintillating company. “Let’s start over. I am a librarian, I’m not married, I like animals and I’m not what you think I am. I don’t want to talk about myself any more than that. Okay? Now, tell me everything about Jack Gamble.”

She wasn’t what he thought she was? What was that supposed to mean? What did she think he thought she was? Okay, he could play the game.

“I’m a geologist. I grew up pretty much an orphan, mostly in Saskatchewan. My dad abandoned our family when I was just a baby. No memory of him. My mom died when I was eight. I have no siblings. I was raised mainly by relatives, including Ira Chesley. I studied hard, became a geologist then turned to prospecting. Now I’m going to be a farmer. I’ve dated plenty of women, but I’ve never been serious about one—” he refrained from adding until now “—but I’d like to get married soon. You know that. That’s me. What do you think of this stuff?” He held up a clump of bamboo shoots between his chopsticks.

She giggled. It suited her. “I like it. I keep losing my veggies.” Her earrings jangled as she leaned forward to peer into the bubbling cauldron of broth. Jack saw a piece of chicken drift by and lunged for it.

“Aha!” He held it high, dangling and dripping over the table, and she laughed. Then he moved it toward her, and she opened her mouth to accept his offering. Jack felt his heart lurch against his breast-bone.

She giggled again, her cheeks red, swallowed, then dug into the pot and offered him something pale and steaming. He didn’t even look at it. “You know what? I think that was octopus!” she said, her eyes dancing.

He chewed slowly and swallowed. “You know what? I don’t care.”

Their eyes met. Hannah’s smile faded slightly and her green eyes glowed, and Jack made himself a solemn vow: Things were back on track, he had no idea how or why, but he wasn’t screwing up again.

He’d been right last Friday. Hannah Parrish was the woman for him.

HANNAH FELT DIZZY as she stood up to put on her wrap. She hoped it wasn’t the raw fish. The entire meal had been unusual and delicious. Jack took her elbow after he paid the bill, and they went out into the cold dark night. She leaned against him. Jack Gamble. Warm, solid-feeling. Good-natured. Funny. The stars were bright and white overhead. She shivered.

“Cold?” He squeezed her shoulders.

“Mmm. Not really,” she mumbled. “That sake really warmed me up. Like hot chocolate.”

“Well, not quite hot chocolate,” he said with a wry smile.

She smiled too. She was happy exactly where she was—right in this exact spot in the universe, after a wonderful meal, after a terrific time with a man she’d never dreamed she’d see again. Right here in High River, Alberta. It was a forty-minute drive to Glory but she didn’t care if they had to walk back. And then? She’d made up her mind that she was confessing everything when they got back to her apartment. If she wasn’t such a coward, she’d do it now.

“Jack?” She stopped halfway to his pickup. He turned to her, an inquiring look on his face. “Kiss me, Jack!”

She threw both arms around him, letting her wrap slide to the ground and offered him her face, eyes closed. The streetlight shining behind him made her squeeze her eyes tighter. She heard the low rumble of his laughter.

“Hey, babe! I’d be glad to.” She felt his mouth touch hers. Just as she’d remembered! Her knees went weak, her legs wonky. Just like Friday on the doorstep of her sister’s house. Hannah clung to him, putting heart and soul into this one sweet experience. After Jack took her home and she told him the truth… Well, that would be it. She could never face a man she’d lied to the way she’d lied since last Friday. Once, maybe. After all, it had been Halloween that first time. But there was no excuse for what she’d done today—this evening. No matter what Emily said.

“Oh, baby!” Jack muttered into her hair. She felt his arms hard around her. “You’re so special. You’re such a warm wonderful sexy woman!”

With a groan he kissed her again. Hannah’s knees gave way and she clung to him, giggling helplessly. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, I slipped! Is it icy?”

Jack laughed, too, and when she got her footing again, he picked up her wrap, draped it around her shoulders and, after one last kiss, helped her into the passenger side of the truck. He practically had to lift her up, the running board seemed so high. Higher than when she’d gotten into it earlier, Hannah thought. Everything seemed so…so strange.

“Home?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “Joan will be wondering where I am. And Mr. Spitz.”

“Mr. Spitz, huh? Is this a man in your life I should know about?”

“Mr. Spitz is the cat.”

She heard his chuckle and the hum of the engine as he started it. She felt very tired. It couldn’t be that late—no more than ten o’clock. That was what happened when you lived the boring life she did. Bed by ten, up at seven, half an hour for breakfast, ten minutes to read the paper, a fifteen-minute walk to work, washing on Monday, shopping on Tuesday…

Hannah wasn’t sure what they discussed on the way to Glory, but she vaguely recalled Jack talking about his prospecting days up north. Then he was gently shaking her awake. They were parked in front of her apartment.

She’d fallen asleep in the truck! Just like some twelve-year-old being driven home from Grandma’s house.

FOR A FEW MOMENTS Jack just gazed at the sleeping Hannah in the light from the street lamp. She was a mystery—strong, sexy, but also vulnerable and innocent somehow. Her eyes shut, her lips slightly parted, the strap of her bag tucked into one relaxed hand. The long painted fingernails, the hammered silver earrings, the slinky shawl. It didn’t add up, and yet, in some weird way, it did.

“Hannah?” He hated to wake her. He would’ve preferred to take her to his place—well, not now, but when it was all fixed up—and tuck her into bed beside him.