‘Maybe I should wear jeans.’

‘No!’

‘What would you suggest?’

‘Something short. And slinky.’ She chuckled again and looked down at her very slinky dress, complete with slit almost to her thigh. ‘Something like this.’

‘Sure. Complete with ostrich feathers. To show a man over a farm and to care for an eight-year-old.’

‘And to marry a millionaire,’ Angela added. ‘Or a billionaire. Think big, girl.’

‘I’m thinking goodnight,’ her friend managed, and pushed her out through the door before she could say another word.

Jackson wasn’t sure who he’d expected as Molly’s chaperon. In fact if he’d thought about it at all-which he hadn’t-he would have said that he didn’t expect her to bring anyone-but the bespectacled child at her side was a shock.

As was Molly.

She looked stunning, he thought, watching her approach over the tarmac. There was no other word to describe her. She was about five feet four and neatly packaged, with a handspan waist and a halo of dark curls that bounced about her shoulders.

Yesterday she’d worn a business suit. Today she was wearing jeans and a soft white shirt that buttoned to the throat. It should have made her look prim, but instead it just made her look inviting. She looked fresh as a daisy, and as she got within speaking distance and smiled up at him it took a whole five seconds before he could answer.

‘Good morning.’ She was still smiling, but somehow he forced himself to ignore her lovely smile and tackle the issue at hand. Which was speaking. It should be easy, but it wasn’t.

‘Good morning,’ he managed.

Unknown to Jackson, Molly was doing her own double take. Yesterday in his dark business suit Jackson had seemed very much an urbane man of the world-handsome, but completely out of her league. Dressed today in soft moleskin pants and a short-sleeved shirt, his throat and arms bare, he looked…

Well, he might be having trouble keeping to the business at hand, but so was she!