When Jayne Met Erik

When Jayne Met Erik
Elizabeth Bevarly

I, Jayne Pembroke, must have been out of my mind. Erik Randolph, Youngsville's most eligible playboy, had walked into the store where I worked, chosen a ring for his future bride - and then proceeded to ask me to marry him.And although I knew our marriage would be based more on terms of a will than love at first sight, my heart beat at an unfamiliar pace the moment I uttered "I do.” Because it's not every day you get to walk down the aisle - or fall in love with your very own husband.

Marriage Certificate

Let it be known that as of September 2001, Jayne Pembroke, the red-headed beauty of 20 Amber Court, Apt. 1C, is legally bound to Erik Randolph, one of Youngsville, Indiana’s most eligible bachelors, in holy matrimony. Both parties will live in wedded bliss, for a period of one year, until the terms of Erik’s inheritance have been met. They will mutually agree to ignore the overwhelming attraction that has been there since Erik’s spontaneous proposal, as well as the desire to be more than just an in-name-only couple. Jayne will take Erik’s name and hope that, in turn, her new husband does not take her heart. In the event that something like true love-develops, this contract will become null and void so that they may draw up a new certificate based on matters of the heart.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to Silhouette Desire, where you can indulge yourself every month with six passionate, powerful and provocative romances! And you can take romance one step further…. Look inside for details about our exciting new contest, “Silhouette Makes You a Star.”

Popular author Mary Lynn Baxter returns to Desire with our MAN OF THE MONTH when The Millionaire Comes Home to Texas to reunite with the woman he could never forget. Rising star Sheri WhiteFeather’s latest story features a Comanche Vow that leads to a marriage of convenience…until passionate love transforms it into the real thing.

It’s our pleasure to present you with a new miniseries entitled 20 AMBER COURT, featuring four twentysomething female friends who share an address…and their discoveries about life and love. Don’t miss the launch title, When Jayne Met Erik, by beloved author Elizabeth Bevarly. The scandalous Desire miniseries FORTUNES OF TEXAS: THE LOST HEIRS continues with Fortune’s Secret Daughter by Barbara McCauley. Alexandra Sellers offers you another sumptuous story in her miniseries SONS OF THE DESERT: THE SULTANS, Sleeping with the Sultan. And the talented Cindy Gerard brings you a touching love story about a man of honor pledged to marry an innocent young woman with a secret, in The Bridal Arrangement.

Treat yourself to all six of these tantalizing tales from Silhouette Desire.

Enjoy!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

When Jayne Met Erik

Elizabeth Bevarly

ELIZABETH BEVARLY

is an honors graduate of the University of Louisville and achieved her dream of writing full-time before she even turned thirty! At heart, she is also an avid voyager who once helped navigate a friend’s thirty-five-foot sailboat across the Bermuda Triangle. Her dream is to one day have her own sailboat, a beautifully renovated older-model forty-two-footer, and to enjoy the freedom and tranquillity seafaring can bring. Elizabeth likes to think she has a lot in common with the characters she creates, people who know love and life go hand in hand. And she’s getting some firsthand experience with motherhood, as well—she and her husband have a seven-year-old son, Eli.

For Joan Marlow Golan, Gail Chasan And Allison Lyons.

With many thanks.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

One

Jayne Pembroke was not having a good day.

She began it by oversleeping, a development made even worse by the fact that she awoke from the most wonderful dream she’d had in a long, long time—a development made even worse when she confronted the reality to which she did, eventually, awake. Because in her dream, Jayne had had company. Really nice company, too, in the form of a handsome, dark-haired, dark-eyed stranger, who had been performing the most wondrous—and erotic—activities with her.

At least, Jayne thought they were wondrous, erotic activities. She was pretty sure they were, anyway. She did have cable TV, after all. Admittedly, though, she didn’t have much personal experience with wondrous, erotic activities by which to judge…or any personal experience, for that matter. But whatever it was that the dark-haired, dark-eyed stranger had been doing to her in her dream, it had felt really, really good.

Her reality, on the other hand, was…not. Not wondrous. Not erotic. And certainly not good. Because in addition to being late, Jayne was, as always, alone.

When she finally did glance over at the clock and noted the time, she tumbled out of bed—literally—bonking her head on the nightstand in the process. So she kicked the nightstand in retaliation…and banged her little toe in exactly that way that made it hurt the most. Then, as she hopped on one foot toward her bathroom, Mojo, her sister Chloe’s cat, whom Jayne was keeping while Chloe attended college, came gallumphing into the room—doubtless because Mojo knew Jayne would be hopping around on one foot—and tripped her. That, naturally, caused her to fall down, and in doing so she banged her knee viciously on the hardwood floor.

Things just went downhill from there.

The water in the shower was barely tepid by the time Jayne turned it on, thanks, no doubt, to the fact that everyone else who lived at 20 Amber Court had already had their showers because they’d awoken on time. Then the only clean shirt she was able to find did not match the only clean skirt she was able to find, and the only pair of clean panty hose she was able to find had a run in them. As a result, she was forced to don a blinding combination of raspberry top and burnt-orange skirt, along with the only belt she could find in her overly tousled closet—which, it went without saying, was chartreuse.

Not surprisingly, her hair dryer shorted out the moment she switched it on, emitting a dangerous-sounding zzzt coupled with the smell of something burning. Immediately she jerked the plug from the wall and dumped the appliance in the wastebasket—which overturned, spilling its entire contents across the bathroom floor.

She bit back a scream—and quite a hysterical one it had threatened to be, too—then methodically wove her long, straight, wet, red hair into a thick braid that fell between her shoulderblades, and ruffled her bangs dry as best she could. She swiped a bit of raspberry-colored lipstick over her mouth—at least something would match at least part of her clothes—and dragged a bit of neutral shadow over her violet eyes. Then she ran into the kitchen for the cup of coffee she absolutely had to consume in order to function as a halfway effective human being.

The good news was that the coffeemaker’s timer had, amazingly, worked perfectly. The bad news was that when Jayne had filled the coffeemaker the night before, she had neglected to add any…well, coffee. So only a pot of hot water greeted her.

She bit back another one of those certain-to-be-hysterical screams—but just barely. Then, surrendering to the fact that she wouldn’t be enjoying her morning cuppa today—or much of anything else, for that matter—Jayne turned her attention to the kitchen window and saw that, inescapably, it was an unusually rainy morning for the first of September. And of course, likewise inescapably, she recalled that she’d left her only umbrella at Colette Jewelry, the showroom of the highly successful Colette, Inc., where she worked as a salesclerk, the last time it had rained.

My, my, my, she thought. What else could the day possibly hold? It wasn’t even 9:00 a.m.

As quickly as she could, she hurried through the rest of her morning rituals, doing her absolute best to make completely certain that nothing else went wrong. And really, not much else did go wrong. Except for when she chipped her favorite coffee mug putting it away, broke her fingernail to the quick while performing a quick search for her raincoat—which, naturally, she never found—and stepped on a pile of stray cat kibble, crushing it to a fine powder that she’d have to sweep up when she got home, because there was no way she had time to do that now.

But other than that…

She was locking her front door to apartment 1C when the door to 1A-B, the apartment next to hers—the one belonging to her landlady—opened. It was the first thing to happen that morning that made Jayne smile. Rose Carson just inspired that kind of reaction in a person, a feeling of good cheer and well-being. She was, to put it simply, a nice lady. She’d even been the one who had helped Jayne find a job at Colette Jewelry. A friend of a friend, Rose had told Jayne, had mentioned an opening in the jewelry store. Jayne had been hired for the salesclerk position the day she had applied.

Judging by Rose’s short, dark hair that was just starting to go gray, by the laugh lines that crinkled her dark eyes, and by the older woman’s matronly figure, Jayne guessed her landlady’s age to be somewhere in her fifties. About the same age Jayne’s mother would be now, had Doris Pembroke survived the plane crash that had killed her and Jayne’s father four years ago.

Even though Jayne had only lived at 20 Amber Court for a month, she felt as if she’d known Rose Carson forever. Her landlady was the kind of person who inspired immediate affection and fast camaraderie, the kind in whom one felt totally comfortable confiding. Within days of Jayne’s move to the apartment building, she’d found herself revealing to Rose all the particulars of her past and current situations. About the loss of both her parents when she was eighteen, about taking on the care of her then-fourteen-year-old twin siblings, Chloe and Charlie, immediately thereafter, about sacrificing her own opportunity to attend college in order to send Chloe and Charlie instead.

Jayne didn’t mind the sacrifice, though. She’d always felt responsible for the twins, even when she was a child. And she knew neither of them took her sacrifice for granted. Once her brother and sister finished college themselves in four years, she’d go back and earn her own degree. She had plenty of time, after all. She was only twenty-two, and her whole life lay stretched before her.

She was just looking forward to having a bit of stability in that life for a change. The last four years had been more than a little difficult, seeing to the needs of Charlie and Chloe and herself, making sure all three of them kept a roof over their heads and food in their bellies.