“This isn’t about me. He’s a respectable man. Worth your consideration,” Jackson said in a rock-hard voice.

“Tell me about the rest,” she said, inwardly fuming. He wasn’t joking when he said he thought she was nuts. He really believed it. Even though she knew her plan was unusual, she wanted to feel as if she and Jackson were a team. Knowing he really thought she was insane bothered her so much she barely heard him list the other prospects.

“And the last one is an English duke, if you’re into titles at all. He’s a financial loser, and I think he could be the most expensive of all of them. That’s why I put him last. He’s got these old mansions that need a bunch of repairs. From the list of repairs, it looks to me like they should ditch the current buildings and start over. Plus he’s got a stepmother who needs to be sent off for a twelve-step program for her shopping habits. Geoffrey Taylor can be a last resort.”

Lori brightened. “Geoffrey Taylor. Did you say Geoffrey Taylor? I met him! And I liked him. Somewhat,” she added, remembering he’d been a grouch at first.

“You did?” Jackson asked, surprise crossing his face.

Lori nodded. “I did. He was appealing in a lost, out-of-his-element way. He needed a haircut, but…”

Jackson was looking at her with a stunned expression. “You actually liked him?”

“I like a lot of people,” she said, miffed at his implication that she didn’t like people.

“So you might be interested in marrying this guy?”

Her stomach clenched. “I don’t know. I have to see how Kenny responds to him.”

“How’d he smell?”

“I’m not sure. I think a waiter had just spilled champagne on him, but I didn’t notice anything that bothered me.”

“You didn’t find anything objectionable about him?”

She shrugged. “I liked that he had a sense of humor. I think a sense of humor is going to be important for this situation.”

Jackson gave a growl-like laugh. “That’s an understatement. A great sense of humor or medication,” he said. “Maybe both.”

His sarcasm poked at her. “Do you have to be so insulting? You act as if I’m the worst person in the world a man could be stuck with for six years. Did you ever think that maybe you have the problem?” she asked, daring to poke his hard chest with her finger. “Maybe you’re not a people person. Plenty of people enjoy my company. You may not, but plenty of people actually think I’m charming. Plenty of people actually like me.”

He grabbed her finger and held it still. “You don’t get it. I feel sorry for the guy who agrees to do this because he’s gonna spend every day of his six-year sentence being close enough to smell you and touch you, but he won’t be taking you to bed. And if he’s a normal heterosexual man, being that close to you and not having you will drive him insane.”

Was that heat in his gaze? Lori wondered, feeling her pulse race. She felt an odd warmth flare across her skin, starting at her toes and moving up to her cheeks. She tried to take a deep breath, but her lungs would allow only a puny shallow one.

She cleared her throat. “The way you say that makes me think you almost find me somewhat attractive.”

“That would be wrong,” he said. “I don’t find you somewhat attractive. Despite the fact that you think I have computer wire for veins, I’m like the rest of my gender. I know you’re a knockout. I wouldn’t be male if I didn’t wonder what it would be like to take you to bed. The big difference between me and the other guys is if I got sexually involved with you, I could lose everything. Baby-blue eyes with the too-generous pocketbook, you could blow me away in bed, but I’ve been protecting my rear for long enough to know I need to protect it more than ever now.”

Lori didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted. “I didn’t ask you to go to bed with me.”

“Not in so many words, but there’s something there.”

She looked at him in surprise. “Pardon me?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking back. You’re curious about me.”

“I-I-I-” she sputtered, embarrassed beyond words.

“It’s no big deal,” he said in what she guessed was his effort to reassure her. “We’re both curious. We’re both attracted. It doesn’t matter as long as we don’t act on it.”

The air in the closet suddenly felt thick and humid. Her mind shifted with rapid-fire speed to a vision of Jackson pulling off the jacket, whose seams strained from the breadth of his shoulders. His tanned skin revealed he spent some of his off-time in the sun. She could easily imagine the sculpted muscles of his chest and a six-pack abdomen. He would accept no less for himself, not out of vanity, but for strength.

She wondered where his tan line started-just below his belly button or lower. His strength and size were overwhelming to her. More than one thing about Jackson suggested he was just this side of civilized.

She wondered what that meant about his lovemaking.

He gave a swift, short oath. “It’s not gonna help matters if you keep looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” she asked and tried to pull her curiosity away from what kind of man he was out of his clothes.

“Like you’re curious about my body and how it would feel. How I would feel naked against your naked skin. How I would take you.”

Turned on, embarrassed, and not sure which sensation was more unwelcome, she closed her eyes. “This conversation is crazy.”

“Crazy, but necessary,” he said. “As long as you and I admit we’re both tempted, then we can both avoid temptation.”

“I’m not admitting anything,” she retorted. “I would have to be a masochist to be attracted to a man who thinks I’m a twerp.”

“Keep telling yourself that, baby girl, and we’ll be just fine.”

The first sign of a serious problem was the jammed-full voice mail on the cell phone Jackson had dedicated to the Lori marriage project. He’d turned the damn thing off late last night to charge, and it was only 6:30 a.m.

Not a good sign, he thought as he finished drying off from his shower. He listened to the first message.

“Greg Staunton here. I’m calling to be considered as a candidate for Lori Granger’s husband. I’m an entrepreneur and was very successful until the market caved in on the dotcoms. I’m willing to submit a blood test and-”

An undertow of dread tugged at his gut. How had Greg Staunton heard about Lori’s plan to get married? Jackson swore, punching the delete key.

“My name is Rose McKinney, and I’d like to suggest my grandson as the perfect husband for Lori Granger. He’ll be eighteen years old next May-”

Starting to sweat, he punched the delete key again.

His home phone rang and he snatched up the receiver. “Jackson James.”

“ Houston, we have a problem,” Lori said.

His stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”

“I mean my phone has been ringing since six a.m. Six men asking for my hand in marriage have already been turned away.”

He cringed as her voice rose.

“And ten more are on my front porch. What did you do? Take out an ad in the newspaper? This was supposed to be confidential.”

“There’s obviously been a leak,” he said, his mind clicking into emergency mode. He’d known all along the news would get out sometime. He’d just hoped to get Lori safely engaged and married by then. He would alert Mr. Hollingsworth so that his boss could take care of the source.

“What am I supposed to do with all these men on my front porch?”

“Sit tight,” he said, pulling underwear out of a drawer. “Pack a suitcase with just the essentials. I’m taking you away.”

“Where?”

The strong note of distrust he heard in her voice irritated him. “Where no one will look for you. Get packed. We need to move fast.”

“I need to know where I’m going so I know how to pack.”

Jackson rolled his eyes. This woman didn’t know what essentials were. “Pack underwear, jeans, and shirts. And any medication you’re taking.”