“You’re a beautiful woman. Any man would want to wake up next to you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I bet you say that to all the girls, pregnant or not.”
“I will neither confirm nor deny.” He hung the saucepan on one of the pot rack’s hooks. “Though I usually try to stay away from the pregnant ones.”
She shook her head. “You never change, MacGregor.”
He flashed her his most charming grin. “But you still love me.”
“In your dreams.”
Tristan winked. “I’ll take what I can get.”
Laughing, she rinsed out a soapy pot. “I’m sure you have no problem getting whatever you want. You never did.”
That had been true. At least until recently.
He avoided serious relationships, but he liked having fun. Lately he’d found himself comparing the women he met to an unattainable ideal. That was severely limiting his fun.
He picked up the towel and dried a frying pan. “So what do you need? Want me to take over washing?”
“No.” She glanced around, as if to make sure they were still alone. “I saw Jayne Cavendish yesterday.”
Hearing the name of Rich’s ex-fiancée jolted Tristan from the inside out. He nearly dropped the pan. A big no-no, considering Mrs. Strickland’s year-old marble countertops.
Jayne. His ideal woman…
A million questions sprang to mind. Not one could he ask. “Where?”
“She was at the teahouse where we had Deidre’s shower. It was the same place we took Jayne, which must have made her feel even worse.”
For Rich’s sake Tristan had tried not to think about Jayne Cavendish, but she’d invaded his thoughts and taken over his dreams. She’d become the woman he measured all others against. He even carried her picture in his wallet.
“We were so embarrassed. I’d forgotten how much she liked the place,” Grace continued. “Anyway, Jayne made a beeline for the exit before I could reach her.”
“Do you blame her?” His words came out too harshly, given his role in the breakup.
“Not at all.” Grace frowned. “I love my brother, but he acted like a complete jerk with Jayne. Rich should have broken off the engagement, not led her on the way he did after he met Deidre.”
“I agree.”
“But he didn’t, and Jayne’s the one who’s suffered.”
“Suffered?” Tristan hung the frying pan on a hook. “She should be relieved she didn’t get married. Rich might be my best friend, but Jayne’s better off without him.”
“I call it as I see it.” Grace dried her hands with a dishtowel, rummaged through her purse and handed him a postcard. “Jayne was in such a hurry to leave she forgot this at her table. I thought you could return it and check if she’s doing okay.”
See Jayne?
Tristan’s heart pounded as if he’d stumbled across the perfect shot. No lighting or camera adjustment needed. Just point and click.
He’d wanted to see Jayne for months now, but two reasons kept him away: his travel schedule, and Rich. Speaking of which…
“Just call her,” Tristan said.
“I can’t,” Grace admitted. “Deidre’s feeling very insecure right now.”
Not his problem. Rich had been so mad at Tristan for breaking his engagement. He didn’t want to go through that again.
He returned the postcard to Grace. “Sorry, but I’m not sneaking behind Rich’s back to do this.”
“You wouldn’t be sneaking behind his back.” Grace shoved the postcard into Tristan’s hand. “I
figured there must be some kind of guy code you two follow, so I asked him about it when he arrived this morning.”
“He’s okay if I see Jayne?”
“Better you than me.”
“Because I’m not family?”
Grace flushed. “You’ve been friends with my brother since you were toddlers. You’re family. But Deidre really freaked out yesterday, so I told her I wouldn’t have any contact with Jayne. There’s no harm in you returning the postcard. Deidre won’t feel as threatened if she finds out you saw Jayne. Everyone knows you didn’t like her.”
No one had a clue how Tristan felt about Jayne. “She and Rich weren’t right for each other.”
Staring at the soapy water in the sink, Grace shrugged. “Rich may have put Jayne behind him, but I can’t forget about her and stop caring that easily.”
“You didn’t know her long.”
“Length of time doesn’t matter. She was going to be my sister-in-law and the baby’s godmother. She even painted the kids’ rooms for me. I can’t help but think about her every time I’m in there.” Grace placed her hands on her belly. Worry filled her eyes. “And when I saw Jayne yesterday, she seemed…”
Tristan’s shoulder muscles knotted. “What?”
“Different,” Grace said. “Jayne’s lost weight. She’s cut her hair short. But most of all she looked so sad. I guess that’s normal under the circumstances. It’s only been a few months since the breakup.”
Seven months, one week and four days, Tristan thought.
“She probably shouldn’t look like her cheerful self after everything that happened, but I can’t help but worry about her.” Grace drew her brows together. “Her parents are dead. She has no siblings. Jayne has no one to look out for her except her three best friends, and they weren’t with her yesterday. She needs somebody, but it can’t be me.”
Rich’s oldest sister had been Tristan’s first crush years ago, but at this moment he loved Grace more than he ever had back when he’d been a kid. Her thoughtfulness had provided him with a valid reason to see Jayne Cavendish again. Not only a reason, but also permission from Rich.
Tristan could see if his attraction for Jayne was real or if he’d built her up in his mind because she was off-limits. He clutched the postcard as if it were a ticket to Shangri-la, even though his visit would probably be nothing more than a reality check for him.
“Stop worrying.” He squeezed Grace’s shoulder. “I’ll head over there this afternoon, return the postcard and find out exactly how Jayne’s doing.”
“Thank you.” Grace hugged him. Well, as much as she could hug given her beachball-sized belly. “And if you happen to know any nice single guys you could introduce her to…”
Tristan stiffened at the thought of Jayne with any of his friends. “One thing at a time, Grace.”
Two hours later, Tristan noticed a California State Patrol car parked on the side of the 405 freeway and a radar gun pointed his way. He lifted his foot from the accelerator and tapped the brake pedal. Getting pulled over for speeding would only slow him down.
He gripped the leather-wrapped steering wheel as he passed the black and white police car. The officer didn’t glance his way.
Good.
Tristan pressed down on the gas, making sure this time the speedometer didn’t ease into get-a-ticket territory. He wanted to get to Jayne’s.
She needs somebody, Grace had said, but it can’t be me.
It shouldn’t be him,