Husband Hunting 101 (11 page)

Or maybe she had and he was unavailable.

Jenna drummed her nails on the counter. "Maybe it's me. I seem to be attracted to the wrong kind of men. The ones who hate marriage." Jenna sighed. "Colleen, I don't want to be single forever."

"There's no one in the class you're taking?"

"So far just weirdoes and nerds." Jenna made a face. "No one I want to spend one night with, much less the rest of my life with."

"How about that cooking club?"

"I changed my mind about that I met the stripper at the mixer."

"God, say no more." Colleen pinched off a piece of chocolate cake and inhaled it. "Isn't there anybody else you're attracted to? Maybe someone you met through business."

"Well, there is someone..."

"Do I know him?"

"Yeah, sort of." Jenna squirmed in her chair, reached for the sweetener and accidentally spilled the packets across the table.

"Uh-oh." Colleen frowned.

"I didn't mean it to happen," Jenna said, scrambling to scrape the packets together.

"Don't tell me."

Jenna choked back the guilt at her own stupidity. After all, Mark had warned her.

Colleen sat her coffee mug down with a thud. "You've got the hots for Mark's brother, don't you?"

Jenna nodded, her eyes filling with tears.

"No wonder you're miserable." Colleen looked stricken. "This could be trouble."

Jenna dropped her face in her hands and moaned. "I know. I can't seem to help myself."

Colleen tilted her head sideways. "Well, I hate to say it but it is understandable. Zack is awfully cute," Colleen conceded.

"Cute?" Jenna shrieked in exasperation. "He is undoubtedly the sexiest, most handsome man I've ever met."

Colleen winced.

"I can't keep my hands off of him and he can't keep his hands off of me."

Colleen shook her head in sympathy.

"We almost made love right in the middle of my store!"

Colleen leaned forward, her interest piqued. "Really?"

"And I'm thinking about jumping his bones. Even if he doesn't hang around afterwards."

Colleen's eyes lit up, then she seemed to rethink the situation and frowned. "Mark will kill Zack if he hurts you."

Jenna gave up on the sugar packets and cradled her head in her hands. "No, I don't want him to interfere."

"Does Zack know how you feel?"

"It doesn't matter," Jenna wailed. "He's so phobic about commitment that after he kissed me, he totally freaked and ran."

Colleen nodded knowingly. "But you're falling in love with him anyway?"

Jenna's lower lip quivered. "Yes. Good lord, what am I going to do?"

Colleen sighed worriedly. "I could ask Mark to talk to him."

"No," Jenna said in a panic. "I don't want everyone to know what an idiot I am!"

"You're not an idiot." Colleen took another bite of cake. "But maybe Mark could help. I think Zack's anti-marriage theories have a lot to do with his parents."

"He mentioned them and the divorce and his stepmothers," Jenna admitted. "Have you met either one of them?"

Colleen nodded. "Believe it or not, they both showed up at the wedding. And let me tell you—Mark and Zack did not grow up with the Brady Bunch."

"They didn't even have an Alice?"

"Not even an Alice."

"It's understandable that he's jaded," Jenna admitted. "I guess some guys were meant to be bachelors and he's one of them."

Colleen wound a strand of her brown hair around her finger. "Just hang in there one more week, Jen. That friend of mine, Blair, will be back and I'm setting the two of you up. You'll be perfect together."

"I don't care if we're perfect," Jenna said in despair. "As long as he can make me forget Zack."

* * *

Zack was totally miserable.

Dammit. He knew he should be happy Jenna had put a stop to their lovemaking, but his body still ached, not only from the eight miles he'd just run, but for Jenna.

His mind whirled with reasons they should be together. Lust, passion, hunger—the sex would probably make the earth shake and all that other romantic stuff women liked.

But no, Jenna had to be reasonable—and nice, and smart, and sweet, and sexy as hell.

He even
liked
her.

Which would be great if she was homely. But she wasn't. She was the kind of woman that got under a man's skin and stayed there. The kind who made him consider more than one night.

The dangerous kind who could hurt him.

Anger wormed itself into his conscious as he contemplated her husband hunt—would she fall apart in another man's arms the way she had his? He ground his teeth together at the mere thought of her kissing another man.
No way.

Dragging his weary body up the steps to his apartment, he let himself in, stripped off his sweaty running clothes and tossed them into the washing machine, then opened the new box of soap, complements of his potential client. Washburn's Laundry Detergent—they were calling it Crystal White for now. The stuff smelled like spoiled lemon pudding and reminded him how much he hated doing laundry.

So how the hell was he supposed to think of some catchy logo for washing powder? Especially when the name, Crystal White sounded more like a soft drink than a soap. They needed to name it Tornado or Hurricane, something catchy and strong, something a man wouldn't mind putting into his shopping cart. Only a woman or a wuss would buy soap named Crystal White.

Padding naked to the shower, he lathered his chest, his arms and legs, wishing he could cleanse Jenna's scent and sexy, sweet eyes from his mind the way he could wash the grime from his body.

But no, he had a feeling she'd conquered his heart somehow and he'd have a gaping hole left there when his business with her was finished. He towel-dried, pulled on a pair of boxers, grabbed a beer and a two-day-old slice of pizza from the fridge and bit into it while he pulled out his sketchpad.

He could not have Jenna Barrett. No one-night stand, no fling, because she wanted it
all.
He couldn't make empty promises the way his old man had, not ones he knew wouldn't last. He'd bury himself in work, finish her campaign, land this new account. Hell, he'd be so busy with customers and work he wouldn't have time to think about her.

He just had to get his act together. As if on cue, the telephone jangled. He answered it, hoping on some wild whim it might be Jenna. Instead his latest client's deep baritone boomed over the line.

"West, this is Washburn. I've been thinking about our meeting."

"Yeah." This morning he'd bluffed his way through the meeting with Washburn, but he wouldn't be able to do that again. The old man was too shrewd.

"I need to wrap this thing up and get moving. Can you have something for me by Friday?"

"You mean this Friday, sir?"
That was only three days away.

"Yes, West, this Friday." Washburn cleared his throat. "The Templeton Agency called and they have their plan outlined. But to be fair, I wanted to give you a chance, son." He cleared his throat. "I remember what it was like to be young and just starting off. I admire a man who goes after what he wants."

Sweat beaded on his lip.
Then he should be going after Jenna.
"I appreciate that, sir. I'm sure I can have something to you by Friday."

They set a time for their meeting, then Zack hung up, the cold pizza burning a hole in his stomach. He had three days to design a brilliant campaign or he would lose his chance at this account. And if that happened, his one-man, fledgling company would struggle, floundering worse than his love life.

And if he won the account, he could at least give himself a paycheck and have a little stability.

Hell, if he worked enough, he wouldn't be able to think about not having a lovelife.

Forcing his mind to his task, he propped the soap box on top of the TV, then drew an outline of the box of detergent. But his creativity was quickly dulled by the sickly greenish color of the package. Maybe he'd suggest a different packaging, something bold and bright, maybe an emerald green with soft yellow and white flecks.

Hmm, he drew the box and redesigned the package, including soap swirling in the machine with the word Tornado written in bold letters above it. Much better. He let his hand do some free forms, brainstorming, and drew some scenes of families doing laundry, a family on the beach with the sun shining, boys traipsing in the house with dirty clothes just as he and Mark had done when they'd been rough- housing when they were small. Then he sketched a baby with red hair and big green eyes playing pat-a-cake in the mud.

He stared at the deep green color of the box, realizing he'd chosen it because it reminded him of Jenna's eyes. And the baby—the tyke could have been a little Jenna.

Damn. His hand moved of its own accord and once again he found himself drawing pictures of Jenna. Jenna in the store today, Jenna wearing nothing but the red garters he'd seen dangling from that Christmas tree, Jenna tossing the rose-scented bubble bath into an antique clawfoot tub. Jenna slipping into the sea of bubbles, then emerging later in all her glorious nakedness one beautiful inch at a time.

Soak your troubles away in a warm bubble bath,
he scribbled at the top...

He closed his eyes, allowing the creative part of his brain to take control and run wild, hoping some seed of genius would spring to life about the detergent ad. A few hours later he woke up and realized he'd fallen asleep with his hand curled around the book, and he'd been dreaming about doing laundry and
enjoying
it. Because he was washing soft red teddies, silky boxers with jingle bells on the front and... baby clothes?

He
had
to be losing his mind.

But he'd also dreamed of a great slogan for Jenna's ad. Maybe he'd drive to her apartment and see if she was still awake.

Only what if she was there with another man?

* * *

Zack stared at his watch and forced himself to wait a good five minutes in front of Jenna's apartment before leaping from the car. It took him another two minutes to collect his portfolio and make it up the sidewalk. His legs were quaking and he almost slammed the door on his hand. He rapped on the door, impatient when it took Jenna several minutes to answer.

When she finally opened the door, his pulse spiked at the sight of the long, silky robe she wore; the damn thing had melted to her figure in all the right places. And knowing she probably had nothing or next to nothing on underneath the robe made his blood go from cold to hot.

"Zack?" she asked softly, a rosy flush on her checks. "What are you doing here?"

Damn. His body was already hardening. He was in big trouble.

"Zack?"

He was so nervous he blurted out the first thing that came to mind, the slogan he'd dreamed up for her ad, "It's what's underneath that counts."

Chapter 7

"Excuse me?" Anger flushed Jenna's cheeks. She tugged her robe tighter around her, both ridiculously pleased and frustrated at the heat in Zack's eyes as his gaze raked over her silk-clad body.

"It's... oh, sorry, I didn't mean to just blurt that out," Zack said. But his gaze settled on her breasts and she gripped the edges of her robe with enough force to shred the fibers.

She had had enough.

Charming Charlie had made lewd comments to her all night during class. "I believe men did descend from apes—and you haven't come very far either!" She slammed the door in his face, furious with the entire male species.

The doorbell rang instantly.

"Go away!" Zack West was the last man on earth she wanted to see, damn his sexy hide.

"Jenna, I'm sorry. What did I do?"

"Don't tell me you don't even know."

Silence. Then he said softly, "No, I... apparently not."

She swung the door open and glared at him in the darkness. She hated him for being a commitaphobic. But most of all, she hated him for making her want him.