J.J. tonight.
Shooting her a look of reproach, he dropped to his knees on the sidewalk, his hands tenderly examining her nylon-clad ankle. “It’s puffy. Hot too. You really shouldn’t be walking on it, especially in heels.”
“Yeah, well, I might as well get used to it, because walking is going to be the way I’ll get around if I don’t find a job.”
Jared stood and leaned against the same pillarwith his hands stuffed into his pockets. “No luck, huh?”
“The word doesn’t belong in my vocabulary.”
He bit his lip. She sounded so depressed. Poor thing. He almost felt guilty at being glad she hadn’t found a job. Almost.
“I know what you need,” he said, his eyes twinkling.
Genna eyed him suspiciously. He was wearing baggy khaki shorts and a pink T-shirt that said REAL MEN EAT QUICHE AT FRANCESCA’S . “Don’t pull out a tool on me, Jared. I’m liable to kill you with it.”
He laughed, his diamond earring sparkling in the twilight. “Now don’t get homicidal on me, Gen.” He picked Candy the mannequin off her lawn chair and dumped her unceremoniously on a shrub. “Pull up a chair. I’ll be right back.”
He dashed into the house and returned thirty seconds later with two cold soft drink cans.
“Root beer?” Genna questioned, accepting the can and sinking down gratefully onto the lawn chair.
“Nothing beats the blues better.” He sat on the porch floor facing her, leaning back against a pillar with one long leg dangling down the step, theother knee drawn up. “It’s my secret passion. You have any secret passions, Gen?”
“Hmmm?” She found her gaze drawn to an alluring gap in the leg of his shorts. Was he the underwear type or not? Abruptly she realized he was waiting for an answer. She blushed furiously. “No. None.”
He grinned and swigged his root beer. “I have to confess, I’m sort of glad you didn’t find a job today, because I have a proposition for you.”
Genna sat stock-still, afraid to let her imagination loose to decipher his comment.
Jared’s smile died a slow death as he picked up Simone Harcourt’s letter and tapped it on his knee, trying to think of the best way to phrase his offer. “I—a—I’m in kind of a bind. I need an image consultant.”
“An image consultant? I don’t understand.” She was too innately polite to agree with him right off the bat. Besides, he seemed perfectly happy with the image he had, bizarre as it was.
“This letter is from my ex-wife’s sister. She wants custody of Alyssa,” he said, all humor gone from his voice.
“What?” Genna felt as if she’d suddenly had the wind knocked out of her. Despite what she claimedto think of Jared, she knew he adored his daughter. She’d watched him play with Alyssa in their backyard the last few days. He was endlessly patient with her, gentle and tender. Maybe he was a little too indulgent, but that was to be expected under the circumstances. He never looked at that little girl with anything but love in his eyes. It was there now as he looked up at Genna, love for his daughter, and that hint of vulnerability that tugged at Genna’s heart so.
“She doesn’t think I’m a fit parent.”
“Not a fit parent?” she asked with indignation.
“She doesn’t think I’m ‘normal’ enough.”
“Uh-oh,” Genna thought out loud.
He gave a harsh laugh. “You don’t think so either?”
“It’s not that I agree with her,” she hastened to clarify. “I think you do a fine job with Alyssa. It’s just that you’re not … normal. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay,” he said, sighing. “You’re right.”
He sat up, leaned his elbows on his knees, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I know I’m not normal. I’ve never had to be. Nobody in my family is what you would call average. But I don’t see why that should matter. I really want to settle down, you know. That’s why I brought Alyssa here. Ithought a small town, a big house, a lawn—that’s how I want my