She is not attracted to Kyp Durron. She doesn't like him, and she certainly isn't in love with him.
Does it matter that every time he speaks, she shivers, caught up in the timbre and depth of deep rough velvet?
Does it matter that his eyes- so dark and beautiful- make her blush when he looks at her because in his eyes she can see hunger and passion?
Does it matter that his hands, rough and strong, yet oh so clever, make her wish to feel them stroking her, if only for a second?
Does it matter that she wants to let his hair out of his ever-present ponytail, and run her hands through black curls streaked silver?
Does it matter that, sometimes, it's only the sight of his face, confident, arrogant, cocky, and so, so beautiful is the only thing that makes her get up in the morning, because not would be loosing and she can't stand to let him win?
Does it matter that sometimes she wonders what it would be like if, just once, she stood up on her toes and kissed his angry mouth?
Does it matter if she thinks she's dying when he gives her the first genuine smile she's ever seen, his teeth white against bronze skin, as her heart tries to claw its way out of her chest?
Does it matter if the sight of him, heavily muscled chest and back bared to the world, makes a gasp die in her throat and her fingers shake so badly with the want to reach out and stroke silk over steel?
So what if the sight of him, striding arrogantly toward her, cape flapping behind him, makes her day, because something feminine inside her sing?
It doesn't matter. She's Jaina Solo, daughter of heroes. She's a fighter pilot, and a squadron leader. A Skywalker twin. But most important, she is the Sword of the New Jedi Order.
Kyp is a liar. A murderer. A manipulative, short-sighted, arrogant man. Possibly the most powerful Jedi Master alive. Her Aunt Mara doesn't trust him. Her mother doesn't like him. Her Uncle Luke, the Jedi Master, is wary of him. Her twin hates him. Even her father is cautious of the boy he once knew.
So it doesn't matter that her heart thumps in her chest, painfully alive, when she sees him. It doesn't matter that the traitorous organ threatens to burst from her rib cage when he gets close to her, eyes staring into hers', burning, as he towers over her. She's the Sword of the Jedi, the second woman in the Skywalker line, the daughter of heroes. A hero herself. She will never have peace. Not that she believes Kyp could give her peace in the first place. He isn't what she wants. She isn't attracted to Kyp. She doesn't like Kyp. She is certainly not also deeply, truly, and desperately in love with him.