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An After-Hours Affair
Barbara Dunlop


With no warning, Mitch’s quiet assistant suddenly has become captivating. And one night Mitch gives in to this new temptation and instinct takes over. But he knows Jenny’s heart needs protecting from his bachelor ways; it’s the right thing to do.If he has to, he’ll set her up with someone more suited to her. And then he’ll pretend that he’s not jealous…










“You think I didn’t notice how you’ve changed?”

Jenny wasn’t sure how to answer that. If he’d noticed, he’d done a darn good job of hiding it. “You didn’t say anything,” she pointed out.

“What, exactly, was it that you wanted me to say?” He leaned closer still, and a few beats of silence ticked past. “That your eyes look like emeralds without your glasses? That you have unbelievably sexy legs?”

Jenny couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe.

His fingertips fluttered against her temple, touching her hair. “Or that your red lips look soft, smooth, delicious.” His hand eased around to the back of her head, fingers splaying into her hairline, as he drew her forward, his mouth coming down on hers in slow motion.

What was happening? What was going—

And then he was kissing her.

He was kissing her.


Dear Reader,

I was thrilled to be invited to participate in The Millionaire’s Club continuity series for Mills & Boon


Desire™. I’ve long been a fan of multi-book, multi-author series. I love cowboys, and I have some very dear friends in Texas. This project was great fun on so many levels, not the least of which was a visit to Texas while I was writing!

Mitch Hayward’s professional football career has been interrupted by an injury. While he recovers, he’s taken on the role of President of the club. There, he’s reunited with office assistant Jenny Watson, who’s had a crush on Mitch since school. When Jenny undergoes a makeover, Mitch sits up and takes notice, and the sparks fly between them.

I sincerely hope you enjoy An After-Hours Affair, along with the rest of the continuity. I’d love to hear from you, so please feel free to drop me a line through my website at www.barbaradunlop.com.

Barbara Dunlop




About the Author


BARBARA DUNLOP writes romantic stories while curled up in a log cabin in Canada’s far north, where bears outnumber people and it snows six months of the year. Fortunately she has a brawny husband and two teenage children to haul firewood and clear the driveway while she sips cocoa and muses about her upcoming chapters. Barbara loves to hear from readers. You can contact her through her website at www.barbaradunlop.com.




An After-Hours

Affair


Barbara Dunlop
















www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


For Marcelle

in honor of our final writers conference




One







Jenny Watson knew a bad idea when she heard one.

“It’s not a date,” she tartly informed her best friend, Emily Kiley, kicking off her shoes and curling one jean-clad leg beneath her on Emily’s bed.

Emily called from the depths of her closet. “Just because he doesn’t call it a date, doesn’t mean you can’t look your best.”

“He’s my boss. And it’s a business function.”

“It’s a wedding.”

“A Texas Cattleman’s Club wedding,” Jenny corrected. “And he was invited in his capacity as Interim President.”

Emily emerged from the closet carrying something made of dark burgundy chiffon. “I was thinking this one.” She draped the dress along her body, revealing a one-shoulder, sleeveless creation with a wide-fitted waist, and a two-layer, A-line skirt that dropped to midthigh.

“Ha, ha,” Jenny mocked, leaning back against the oak headboard.

Emily knew full well that Jenny would never touch a style that was so off-the-runway sophisticated, and she’d definitely never wear a color that bold.

“It’ll look great with an updo.” Emily swirled around to the corners of the room as if she was waltzing. “You can borrow my black rhinestone sandals. And I’ve got those fabulous teardrop earrings and the matching necklace. The diamonds are synthetic, but there’s no way to tell.”

“I’m not wearing that dress,” Jenny insisted.

“Why not?”

“Do you need me to write you a list?”

“Come on,” Emily cajoled. “Live a little, girl. You’ll look gorgeous, and Mitch will absolutely sit up and take notice.”

“I’ll look foolish.” Jenny wasn’t showing up in front of her friends and neighbors in Royal, Texas, looking like some kind of Manhattan diva. “There’s nothing wrong with my black dress.”

It was her perennial favorite—a sleeveless, square-necked jersey knit that flowed to her knees. She combined it with a short, sheer black cover that fastened at her throat. It was the perfect combination of classic and chic.

“And how many times has Mitch Hayward seen you in that?”

“A couple,” Jenny admitted, seeing no need to do the math.

Mitch didn’t care what she wore. He wanted an uncomplicated woman on his arm, someone to help him work the event. Her boss liked to keep tabs on the members of the Texas Cattleman’s Club. He prided himself on recalling details of everyone’s lives, and Jenny knew she was a big help in that department.

“You’ve had a crush on him since you were twelve,” Emily pointed out.

“‘Crush’ being the operative word,” Jenny put in. And it had been over a long time ago. “The man left town when I was only sixteen.”

Quarterback Mitch Hayward had gone to college in Dallas on a full football scholarship. He’d come back to work in Royal for the first two summers. But after that, his successful sports career had kept him on the road. Up until last year, when a shoulder injury had brought him back home.

“He’s been back for twelve months,” Emily pointed out.

“That long?” Jenny plucked at the bedspread, pretending she didn’t remember the exact date, the exact hour, the exact minute Mitch Hayward had returned to Royal. “I guess time flies.”

Emily plunked down on the bed beside her. “You are such a bad liar.”

Jenny heaved a sigh, feeling the need to inject some reality into the situation. “I am not going to make a fool of myself by dressing up for Mitch.”

“Then dress up for Rick Pruitt and Sadie Price.” Emily referred to the bride and groom. Rick was a longtime member of the Texas Cattleman’s Club and well respected throughout the region.

“Like they’re going to care what I’m wearing,” said Jenny.

Since Rick had rushed off to Houston in July to bring Sadie and their two-year-old twins back home to Royal, the ecstatic couple had eyes only for each other.

Emily reached out to grasp Jenny’s forearm, her voice taking on a tone of urgency. “It’s do or die, Jen.”

Talk about melodramatic. “Do or die, what?”

“I’ve watched you pine away over him for a year now. Either make a play for Mitch, or start dating other guys.”

“I’m not pining away.”

But as Emily stated the bald truth, Jenny felt her chest tighten and her stomach contract with apprehension. All year long, she’d tried desperately to ignore her attraction to Mitch, telling herself it was a childhood crush that she was long since over.

“You’re about to turn thirty,” said Emily.

“So are you.”

“That’s right. And I have a plan.”

“A plan for turning thirty?”

“A plan for my life,” said Emily, her gaze taking on a dreamy quality and drifting to the window behind Jenny. “If I don’t meet a man, the man …” Then she frowned, and her eyes narrowed. “Well, at least a man who might be the man, by my birthday next month, I’m going to have a baby anyway.”

Jenny straightened in shock. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “A single mom? Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea—”

“I want children.”

“I know from experience how bad that can turn out.”

“We’re not talking about your childhood.” Emily glanced at her watch and hopped up from the bed. “In fact, we’re still talking about the wedding tonight. I can tell you, if I had a thing for a guy like Mitch, and if that guy was anywhere within a hundred miles of here, I’d damn well be doing something about it.”

“You would not.”

“I would.” Emily nodded decisively. “Come on, Jen. What’s the risk? He doesn’t notice, no harm done. You simply showed up to some friends’ wedding in a nice dress. But if he notices, it’s a whole new ball game.”

“If he doesn’t notice,” Jenny began, telling herself it was an academic argument, since she wasn’t really considering the dress, “then it’s game over.”

Compassion rose in Emily’s blue eyes. “If he doesn’t notice you in this, it was game over anyway. Wouldn’t you rather know?”

Jenny started to shake her head, but then she stopped. Did she truly want to spend the next year, or two, or three, longing for a man who wasn’t remotely interested in her? Would she rather keep the fantasy alive, or would she rather face the truth, no matter how hurtful?

“If he’s not into you, Jen, then you can move on. You have to move on.”

Jenny catalogued her options, considering every angle as dispassionately as humanly possible. But, despite her efforts to be strictly analytical, her emotions crowded in. Her heart rate increased, heat prickling her skin, as she silently admitted Emily’s advice had merit.

Perhaps it truly was now or never.

“Be a woman about it,” said Emily, holding the dress forward, an expression of hopeful encouragement in her eyes.

Jenny steeled her nerves.

She took a bracing breath and rose from the bed, snatching the dress from Emily’s grasp. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Shower first,” cautioned Emily, taking back the dress. “And shave your legs. We have exactly four hours to completely make you over.”

“I’m not—”

Emily gave her a gentle shove toward the bathroom. “Oh, yes, you are.”

By the time Emily had styled Jenny’s hair, applied her makeup, helped her into the dress and clipped on some jewelry, Jenny was a nervous wreck. Emily had refused to let her look in the mirror until the process was complete, and Jenny now stood in the middle of the bedroom balancing on dainty, high-heeled sandals. The fancy dress rustled against her thighs. Her face was tight with carefully applied makeup. And she had walked through a mist of Emily’s most expensive perfume.

Finally, Emily stood back to survey her. “You ready?”

“I’ve been ready for three hours.”

Emily’s grin went from ear to ear. “You look amazing.”

“I’m going to fall off the shoes.”

“No, you won’t.”

“I hate wearing my contacts.”

“Buck up. This is going to be worth it.”

“The black dress would have been perfectly fine.”

“The black dress wouldn’t have changed your life.”

Jenny frowned at her friend. Nobody’s life was getting changed tonight. Mitch wasn’t going to spy her from across the Texas Cattleman’s Club hall, realize he’d never seen the real Jenny before and rush to pull her into his arms.

Never going to happen.

Which was depressing.

After tonight, she’d never be able to delude herself again.

“Here we go,” said Emily, pulling her walk-in closet door closed to line up the full-length mirror.

Jenny looked into the mirror. Her eyes focused, and she blinked in astonishment.

The woman staring back didn’t look anything like her.

“Something’s wrong,” she said to Emily.

“Huh?”

“That’s not me.”

Emily laughed. “That most certainly is you.”

Jenny shifted experimentally. The sandals elongated her calves, tanned from swimming in the lake all summer. Her neck looked longer than usual, her arms more graceful, and the updo of her thick strawberry blond hair was complemented by Emily’s glamorous earrings. The necklace winked at her, while her artificially lengthened lashes blinked heavily over her green eyes.

The neck of the dress made the most of her cleavage. And her bare shoulder felt decadently sexy. For some reason, her waist seemed narrower than usual. Maybe it was the full skirt, or the way the cut of the bodice accentuated her breasts.

Nervous sweat popped out on her brow. “I can’t go out like this.”

“What? Afraid you’ll stop traffic?”

“Afraid I’ll get propositioned.”

“Good grief. You look like a movie star, not a hooker.”

“I feel like a hooker.”

“Yeah? Tell me, what does a hooker feel like?” Emily pulled a small jeweled purse out of her top drawer and snagged Jenny’s bag from where she’d dropped it on the bay window’s padded bench seat.

“This isn’t funny.” Panic began to swell in Jenny.

The makeover was all fine and good as a fantasy, but there was no way she could leave Emily’s house looking like this. The gossip would swirl around Royal for months to come.

How could she have let this happen?

How could she have been so foolish?

She swallowed. “We have to take it off.”

“There’s no time.”

“There’s—”

“If you don’t leave now, the bride will beat you to the church.” Emily stuffed the vital contents of Jenny’s bag into the jeweled clutch.

“I’m serious, Em.”

“So am I.” Emily pressed the purse into Jenny’s hand and held out her car keys. “You gotta go.”

“But—”

“You want to be late?”

“Of course not.” Jenny prided herself on her meticulous punctuality. And even if she didn’t, she’d never insult such a respected TCC member by rushing in at the last minute for his wedding.

Emily gave her a gentle shove toward the door. “Have a great time, Cinderella.”

Mitch Hayward was going to be late. Of all the days, of all the events, of all the stupid, stupid fiascos, it had to be this. At this rate, Rick and Sadie would be standing under the Leadership, Justice and Peace plaque at the Texas Cattleman’s Club clubhouse with a preacher pronouncing them man and wife, by the time Mitch made it into the parking lot.

He zipped past the diner in his vintage red Corvette and geared down for the corner at River Road, his back tires breaking loose against the hot asphalt. But he stomped defiantly on the gas pedal, muscled the car to head straight and prayed that Officer Brendall wasn’t out on traffic patrol at this particular moment.

The roof of the clubhouse came into view in the distance amongst the oak trees, at the same time as he spotted a long white limousine on the road in front of him. It had to be Sadie and her bridesmaids. He geared down and put the pedal to the floor, pulling around the limousine, hoping against hope that Sadie would forgive him for the stunt.

He screeched to a halt in the clubhouse lot, parking illegally before springing from the car and running up the stairs.

His assistant, Jenny Watson, was waiting by the door to the foyer.

He was conscious of a flash of bold burgundy, before snagging her arm and towing her toward the club lounge entrance.

“What happened?” she rasped, trotting to keep up with him.

“A flock of flamingos,” he growled, scanning the rows of folding chairs for vacancies.

“What?”

He spotted a pair at the opposite side of the flower-and-candle-bedecked room, and he beelined for them.

“Those plastic flamingos for the charity fundraiser,” he whispered to her, ignoring the censorious stares sent his way by the Texas Cattleman’s Club members assembled for the wedding. “The whole flock was planted on my front lawn.”

He plunked Jenny into a chair and seated himself, just as the piano music changed, and all heads turned to watch the first bridesmaid start her way down the aisle.

The attendants were pretty in pale lilac dresses, but Sadie and Rick’s two-year-old twin daughters all but stole the show. They were dressed identically in ivory lace dresses, accented with lilac ribbons and bows. They had flowers braided into their hair, and they dutifully dropped multicolored handfuls of rose petals from their baskets as they walked.

Then the pianist began the wedding march, and the guests rose as Sadie appeared in a stunning white gown, flowers woven into her hair, and a tremulous smile on her face as she approached Rick. Mitch was about as far from a romantic as a guy could get, but even he couldn’t help feeling a warm glow for the couple who had been through so much, were so obviously in love and were about to create a family with their two young daughters.

As the preacher pronounced the couple man and wife, the guests spontaneously burst into applause. And by the time Rick kissed his bride, most of the women, and even some of the men, were wiping misty eyes while they smiled with pure joy. Camera flashes went off and Rick and Sadie each picked up one of their daughters to make their way back down the aisle.

“That was lovely,” said Jenny, tucking her tissue back into her compact purse.

“You can’t help but be happy for them,” Mitch replied.

Then she pressed an elbow into his ribs. “Did the game go into overtime or something?”

“Sorry,” he apologized, his mind going back to the debacle of getting out of his driveway.

Truth was, he had been further delayed when a football buddy, Jeffrey Porter, his teammate on the Texas Tigers, had called on the road from Chicago. Jeffrey’s girlfriend of two years had caught him cheating and abruptly ended the relationship.

Mitch was intimately familiar with the temptation of beautiful women when a guy was on the road with the team. There was never a shortage of dates. It was one of the reasons Mitch had always avoided serious romantic relationships. If he couldn’t trust himself to be faithful, he wasn’t going to make any promises to anyone.

It was probably past time someone called Jeffrey on his behavior. Quite frankly, with the way his attention strayed, Mitch was surprised his buddy hadn’t been caught long before this. Still, he’d felt duty bound to sympathize with the wide receiver.

“What happened?” Jenny asked as the front rows of guests began surging down the aisle, following the wedding party out into the foyer.

“It was mostly the flamingos.” Mitch repeated the part of the story he’d decided to use as an excuse, while they waited their turn to exit the lounge. “Somebody obviously paid to have the flock planted on my lawn, and it was all I could do to navigate through the mess.”

She looked up at him, skepticism clear as her brows lifted above her green eyes. “What? Did they gang up on you?”

He did a double take. There was something different about Jenny today. He tried to put his finger on it.

“I took one of them out,” he grumbled. He’d been in a hurry after his phone call with Jeffrey, and one of the flamingos had scratched the front bumper of his ‘Vette. He sure hoped he didn’t have to repaint.

“Did you hurt it?” Jenny asked with a carefully schooled, straight face. It was obvious she found the mishap amusing.

“It’ll live,” he responded without missing a beat. “You know, I’d have given them an extra donation without the birds,” he griped. A time-honored local form of extortion, the recipient of the flamingos was compelled to pay a donation to get the birds moved to another unwitting victim’s yard. “A phone call would have worked just as well.” He was a strong supporter of the local women’s shelter that ran the flamingo fundraiser, and he’d have happily bumped up his annual contribution.

“The flamingos are more fun,” said Jenny, turning as the people toward the middle aisle started to move. “I’ll help you pick the new target. Maybe we can plant them on Cole’s lawn next.” Cole Maddison, Mitch’s friend, neighbor and fellow TCC board member had deep pockets.

“Sure,” Mitch answered absently, still trying to figure out what was different about her.

The glasses.

She wasn’t wearing her glasses.

That was unusual for Jenny.

He wondered if she’d forgotten them, or if she’d decided the wedding was an occasion formal enough to warrant wearing her contacts. He knew she didn’t like them.

She started to walk away, and his gaze caught on her short dress. That was also unusual. She normally wore knee-length skirts, or slacks, a crisp blouse and a blazer. Jenny was as buttoned-up and tailored as a woman could get. It suited her precise and meticulous personality. But today, puffy, bold burgundy fabric swirled around her thighs. One of her shoulders was bare, and she was wearing unusually flashy earnings.

What was up?

“Jenny?”

She turned.

Holy cow. From this angle the entire package nearly took his breath away. What had happened to his no-nonsense, efficient assistant?

“Yes?” she prompted.

“Nothing.” He started to move with the rest of the crowd, embarrassed by the reaction he was having to her makeover. She was perfectly entitled to dress up for a wedding, and he had absolutely no business ogling her.

They made their way through the double doors, outside to the back of the clubhouse overlooking the expansive grounds. When Mitch stopped at the rail of the back veranda, Jenny kept going, making her way down the wide stairs toward the lawn and the gardens. He was a little surprised she hadn’t stuck by his side like she usually did. Perhaps she needed to talk to some of the Cattleman’s Club members or to some friends.

As Interim President, Mitch had been aware of the reception preparations for several weeks now. A few days ago, they’d erected a huge canopy tent in case of rain, but the Monday Labor Day evening was clear and warm. A band had set up on the gazebo, and a temporary dance floor had been built on the knoll overlooking the pond. Round, white-linen-covered tables dotted the lawn, and tall propane heaters were discretely placed throughout the dining area to keep guests warm once the sun went down.

The wedding party had assembled in front of the clubhouse gardens for photos. Even from this distance, Mitch could see the tension between maid of honor Abigail Langley and best man Brad Price. As the last remaining descendant of the TCC founder by marriage, Abigail was also the Club’s sole female member.

It was no secret that Brad resented having a woman as a full member of the Cattleman’s Club. He’d taken to using the term “cattle-people’s club,” and suggested they put up lacy curtains and buy a pink gavel for monthly meetings.

Most of the men brushed the jokes off as harmless, but Abigail had recently gotten wind of Brad’s behavior and had been highly insulted. She even challenged him in his run for TCC president. Mitch got the feeling that she avoided Brad as much as possible. But today they’d been thrown intimately together as members of the wedding party.

He scanned the sharply dressed crowd, easily spotting Jenny where she stood beside the dining area talking to Cole Maddison. She laughed at something he said, and rested her hand briefly on his arm. For some reason, Mitch felt a surge of jealousy.

Ridiculous.

Just because he’d never known Jenny to date, didn’t mean she shouldn’t date. Hey, if she liked Cole and if Cole liked her …

Mitch found his feet taking him down the stairway and across the lawn toward them.

“Hey, Mitch,” Cole greeted easily as he approached.

Mitch gave his friend a nod.

Jenny didn’t glance his way.

“Nice ceremony,” Mitch offered, wondering why he felt awkward.

“I’m not sure Brad’s going to survive the night,” Cole returned, canting his head in the direction of the tuxedo-clad Brad, who was on the receiving end of a glare from Abigail.

“She’s a pistol,” Mitch agreed.

“Excuse me a moment,” Jenny put in, moving away.

Mitch’s gaze reflexively followed her as she made her way toward the bride and groom.

“That’s a shocker,” said Cole.

“What?” Mitch pulled his attention away from Jenny’s tanned legs and the sexy little sandals that accented her dainty feet. Her toenails were polished a bright plum, he’d noticed.

Cole’s expression was incredulous. “I’m talking about Jenny. She looks like a million bucks.”

“It’s a nice dress,” Mitch allowed, telling himself to get a grip. It was Jenny—sensible, efficient, professional Jenny.

“She’s a stunning woman,” said Cole. “I wonder why she dresses down all the time.”

Mitch frowned. “I wouldn’t call it dressing down. She looks completely professional at the office.”

Cole drew back. “I didn’t mean it as an insult. But you have to admit, it’s a shocker.”

What was shocking was that Mitch couldn’t seem to tear his gaze from her.

“I may ask her to dance,” Cole declared.

“With what intention?” Mitch demanded before he could stop himself.

“Intention? What are you, her chaperone?”

“Jenny’s a nice girl. Just because the woman puts on a pretty dress, doesn’t mean she’s fair game.” But even as he spoke, Mitch realized just how ridiculous his words sounded. Who Jenny danced with was absolutely none of his business. Neither was who she dated, or slept with for that matter. He was her boss, not her keeper.

Cole’s eyes narrowed speculatively. “Have you got designs on her?”

“No, I do not have designs on her. We’re colleagues. I see her every day at the office.” Theirs was a professional relationship, nothing more.

“Not like that, you don’t,” Cole muttered.

“Quit obsessing about Jenny.”

“Me?” Cole gave a hollow chuckle. “You’re the one who can’t keep his eyes off her.”

Mitch realized he was watching her yet again, marveling at her grace and glamour. He dragged his attention back to Cole, meeting the man’s smirk.

“Back off,” Mitch growled.

Cole accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, and Mitch did the same.

“Admit it,” said Cole. “You think she’s hot.”

“I think she’s efficient.” And that was all that mattered in Mitch’s world, no matter how tempting she looked tonight.




Two







Jenny’s evening had been an abject failure.

Mitch hadn’t been wowed by her new appearance. He’d barely seemed to notice her, and he didn’t ask her to dance, not one single time. Through dinner, the toasts and speeches, the cake cutting and finally the dancing, she’d grown more and more depressed.

Now that the bouquet had been thrown and the newly married couple had officially left for their honeymoon, she was going straight home to take down her hair, take out her contacts, scrub off the makeup and send the dress back to Emily via the dry cleaners. She never wanted to look at it again.

Outside in the parking lot, she hunted through the small jeweled purse for her car keys.

To think she’d felt beautiful at the beginning of the evening. She’d let Emily’s optimism rub off on her. Then, standing next to Mitch while the bride marched down the aisle, she had actually felt a little like Cinderella.

She retrieved her car keys as she made her way across the asphalt, feet aching from the high heels and a blister burning on her left baby toe. Her car was parked under one of the many overhead parking lot lights, but as she approached it, she realized something was wrong. Her taillights seemed to be faintly glowing.

She quickly inserted the key and opened the driver’s door to find her headlight switch on. She flicked it off, frowning, because it had been broad daylight when she arrived for the ceremony. She slipped into the driver’s seat, pulling the door shut and inserting her key into the ignition.

“Come on,” she muttered, holding her breath as she turned the key.

It clicked. The engine clunked. A brief grinding noise came from under the hood. And then silence.

Jenny cursed under her breath.

She tried the key one more time but was met with stubborn silence. She smacked her palms down on the steering wheel in frustration.

She did not feel like waiting for a taxi to take her home. And now she’d have to come back tomorrow and get her car. Though it was a workday tomorrow, she’d decided to call in sick for the first time in, well, ever. She was going to pull the covers up over her head and wallow in self-pity. She swore that a pint of gourmet ice cream and a sappy movie were as close as she was coming to activity tomorrow.

She scooped up her purse and reached for the door handle, when she noticed something on her dashboard. It was a folded piece of paper, and she was certain it hadn’t been there when she parked the car.

Confused, Jenny reached out and unfolded it, leaning forward and squinting in the illumination from the parking lot’s overhead light. You’ll thank me tomorrow, it said. And it was signed Emily.

Jenny couldn’t believe it. Her best friend had actually sabotaged her car? Had Emily lost her mind?

Someone rapped on the window, and Jenny nearly jumped out of her skin.

“You okay?” came Mitch’s deep voice.

Jenny crumpled the paper into her palm.

He lifted the handle and pulled open her door.

“I’m fine,” said Jenny, hoping he’d accept her answer and go away.

“Car trouble?” he asked.

She shook her head, still staring straight ahead. She just wanted to get home, away from Mitch and away from the humiliating memories of this night.

“I heard you cranking it over. Want me to take a look?”

“It’s fine,” she insisted.

He was silent for a moment. “Are you mad at me?”

“Of course not,” she lied.

“Your car’s broken down, Jenny.”

She closed her eyes for a long moment. “I know. I’m tired. I was going to call a cab.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Pop the hood.”

She turned to look at him. “You’re not exactly dressed for mechanical repairs.”

He glanced down at his pristine white shirt and silk tie. “Good point.” Then he held out his broad hand. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

Jenny glanced around the parking lot, desperately searching for someone else who could serve as her knight in shining armor. The very last thing in the world she wanted right now was to spend more time in Mitch’s company while he failed to notice the new, improved and sexy Jenny. But nobody else was around to save her.

“I’ll just go back inside,” she began.

“Will you stop?” He reached down and snagged her hand, drawing her gently but firmly from her vehicle.

She grabbed her purse and came steady on her feet just as he slammed the door shut behind her, obviously annoyed. Well, she was annoyed, too. Even if he hadn’t been bowled over by her chic new look, he could have at least complimented something. The hair, the dress, the shoes. But he couldn’t even throw her a crumb.

He kept hold of her hand. “This way.”

She spotted his sleek, gleaming Corvette parked haphazardly next to the front garden. “That’s not an authorized parking spot.”

“I was late. I’ll pay the fine tomorrow.” He swung open the door. “Now, get in.”

She huffed out a breath, and braced her hand against the back of the bucket seat, stepping one foot inside the car and nearly losing her balance on the high heels.

His arm snaked around her waist, and she felt her dress hike high on her thighs. Her bottom pressed against his leg as he braced her steady.

“I’m fine,” she ground out.

“You’re grumpy,” he responded, a trace of humor in the voice that was close to her ear.

“Will you let go?” Her pulse was doing unnatural things under his touch. Her face flushed hot, and her knees suddenly felt unsteady. She determinedly pulled herself into the car.

He let her go, and she dropped onto the seat. She quickly straightened her skirt, covering as much of her thighs as possible. Then she glanced down to catch an expansive view of her cleavage. She adjusted the shoulder of the dress and tugged at the bodice.

Mitch had paused, watching her, the door still open. But she refused to glance up. He was probably laughing at her clumsiness.

After a long moment, he stepped back and firmly closed the door, moving around to the driver’s side. There, he climbed inside without a word, started the engine and pulled the sports car smoothly out of the parking lot.

As their speed increased, the overhead lights flashed above them, alternating with the branches of stately oak trees lining the street. The silence stretched out between them. A mile farther down, they turned off River Road to take the shortcut along Rooster Lane. Given the potholes and sharp gravel on the little-used road, and Mitch’s deep love of his Corvette, Jenny could only assume he was in a hurry to get rid of her.

Fine by her. She couldn’t wait to get home.

Then, abruptly, he pulled off the road onto a grassy patch beneath the oak trees, rocked the car to a halt and set the emergency brake.

“What are you doing?” she asked in confusion, wondering if something was wrong with his car. Surely, Emily couldn’t have sabotaged them both.

But he turned in his seat, draping his arm across the back of hers. “Spill, Jenny. What’s wrong?”

His abrupt question took her by surprise. But she quickly regrouped. “I’m tired and I want to go home.” That was definitely part of the truth.

“You’ve been acting weird all night,” he pressed.

“I have not.” She folded her hands primly on her lap.

“You didn’t even dance with me.”

The accusation in his voice made her own tone rise along with her blood pressure. She spoke past a clenched jaw. “You didn’t even ask.”

“I had to ask?” he retorted.

“It’s kind of traditional.”

“Like you needed extra partners,” he scoffed.

She turned to look at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means—” he gestured with one hand “—the way you’re dressed tonight, there was a line around the block.”

“Nice that some people noticed.”

His eyes glittered in the dash lights, and there was a long moment of tense silence. When he spoke, his voice was a throaty rasp. “You think I didn’t notice?”

Jenny wasn’t sure how to answer that. If he’d noticed, he’d done a darn good job of hiding it.

“You think I didn’t notice?” he repeated, louder this time, crowding her.

Was the car getting smaller?

“You didn’t say anything,” she pointed out, fighting the urge to shrink back against the door.

“What, exactly, was it that you wanted me to say?” He leaned closer still, and a few beats of silence ticked past. “That your eyes look like emeralds without your glasses? That you have unbelievably sexy legs? That you should show off more often, by the way.”

The front of his shoulder brushed the tip of hers, and Jenny swallowed against the electric sensation that passed between them.

His voice went lower. “That those shoes were designed to keep a man awake at night? That I’ve been watching the wisp of your hair, curling over your temple and resisting the urge to smooth it back all night long?”

Jenny couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Her chest was frozen in place, while her pulse tripped over itself.

His fingertips fluttered against her temple, touching her hair. “Or that your red lips look soft, smooth, delicious?” His hand eased around to the back of her head, fingers splaying into her hair, as he drew her forward, his mouth coming down on hers in slow motion.

What was happening? What was going—

And then he was kissing her.

He was kissing her.

Sparks flew out from every corner of her body. Her skin prickled hot in the sultry car. Her belly buzzed and her thighs twitched, and her body leaned subconsciously toward him.

He parted his lips, deepening the kiss. His free arm slid around her waist, pulling her tight to his chest, while his tongue tested the seam of her lips.

She opened for him, and he invaded, spreading new waves of desire throughout her body. She whimpered, grasping his broad shoulders through his jacket for support while her world tipped on its axis.

He finally broke the kiss, touching his forehead gently against hers. “I noticed,” he breathed.

With her brain struggling to grasp the enormity of what had just happened, “Oh,” was all she managed.

He let her go, leaning back in his seat, closing his eyes for a long moment. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s, uh …” She straightened her dress again, sitting back in her own seat. “Fine,” she ended.

It was more than fine. It had been amazing.

He’d noticed. He’d noticed. And he’d kissed her.

Wow, had he ever kissed her. She’d never been kissed like that in her life.

Mitch let off the emergency brake and put the Corvette in gear.

He pulled onto the gravel road and continued toward Jenny’s small house beside Frost Lake.

She hadn’t the first idea of what to say or do.

Mitch pulled his Corvette into Jenny’s short driveway, his brain a jumble of lust and recrimination as he automatically turned off the headlights and killed the engine. He pushed open his door and rounded the hood to open hers.

In the ten minutes since he’d kissed her, neither of them had said a word. But inside his head, he’d given himself about a dozen stern lectures. What the hell did he think he was doing? Jenny was a nice girl, a great girl, a wonderful girl, and she worked for him.

She wasn’t one of the sophisticated women he met at parties in New York and L.A., who wanted nothing more than a famous football player as a companion for the evening or the night. She was honest, uncomplicated, and he was a cad for giving in to his baser instincts.

He pulled open her door, forcing himself to concentrate on the treetops, the full moon hanging on the horizon and the darkened outline of her little house—anything, anything but looking at Jenny again.

He knew he should get the heck out of here without delay, but her porch light was out, and the gentleman in him wouldn’t send her up the uneven pathway and the dark stairs on her own. He offered his arm, ignoring her light touch, looking straight ahead as they made their way along the stepping stones in her front garden.

They walked up the stairs and across the porch, then she stopped and turned toward him.

“I’m—” she began, and he made the mistake of meeting her gaze.

Her eyes were opaque jade in the faint moonlight, her lips red and swollen from his kiss. Her hair was disheveled, her cleavage highlighted by the sexy dress and those legs went on forever, ending in those fantasy shoes that somehow hijacked his primal brain. He groaned in instant surrender and swooped in for another kiss.

She tipped her head to accommodate him, soft lips parting, tongue answering his own, even as her slim arms wound around his neck. He wrapped his own arms around her narrow waist and pulled her against him once more, those luscious breasts flush to his chest. Her mouth was hot on his, her thighs taut, the feel of them hardening his body beyond imagination. He stroked a hand over her messy hair, releasing the clip that held it back, so that it tumbled free.

He kissed her temple, her ear, her neck, making his way along her bare shoulder.

“Mitch,” she gasped, her breath hot puffs against his chest.

He drew back, looking into her soft green eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted, and her shiny strawberry blond hair framed her face like a halo.

Walk away, he ordered himself. Walk the hell away.

But she pressed a key into his palm.

On automatic pilot, he unlatched the door, pushing it wide. He scooped her into his arms and carried her inside, slamming the door firmly behind them and making his way straight down the back hallway to her bedroom.

There, he lowered her gently to her feet.

“Jenny,” he breathed, reminding himself of who this was, trying one more time to convince himself to do the right thing.

But she came up on her toes and kissed him passionately, and he’d spent far too many years being self-indulgent to summon self-discipline now. His hand moved reflexively to her breast, grasping the soft mound beneath the silky dress. She parted his suit jacket, her small hands sliding around his back, their heat searing through the thin cotton of his shirt.

He shrugged out of the jacket, and it fell to the floor. One of his thighs pressed between hers, easing her dress out of the way. She gasped, as the fabric of his slacks obviously hit home. Her hands fumbled with his tie, and he gave into temptation, slipping the single shoulder of the dress down her arm.

Their movements grew faster, more frantic.

She popped the buttons of his shirt, while he found the zipper at the back of her dress. In seconds, they were chest to chest, skin to skin, and he pressed long, deep, fiery kisses on her mouth.

Her dress slipped to the floor. Her scant panties combined with those shoes nearly sent him over the edge. He stripped off the remainder of his clothes and eased her down on the big bed, into the neatly pressed quilt and the plump, perfect pillows.

She was all motion beneath him, heat, softness, kisses and breathy cries. Her fingernails dug into his back, while he kissed her lips, her neck, her breasts, kneading his hands along her thighs, up and around. Impatiently, he tore off her panties. She gasped, then moaned and arched against his fingers.

He kissed her hard and deep, strumming her nipples. Her hands roamed his body. He shifted over her, and her legs wrapped around him, her hips arched against his weight in an invitation he couldn’t ignore.

He grabbed for his slacks, quickly retrieving a condom before instinct obliterated reason. He thrust into her exquisite heat, his primal brain telling him to make it last and last and last. Pillows flew to the floor. The bed rocked on its brass foundation, while the stars through her bedroom window melted and slid from the sky.

She cried his name just as his own passion crested. His breathing went hoarse, and long minutes throbbed past before sanity returned. Exhausted, he rolled to his side, taking him with her, pulling her deep into his arms.

Once again, words eluded him. He had absolutely no idea what to say to her. He wasn’t sorry. He didn’t regret it. But, oh boy, had he ever made a big mistake.

Instead of speaking, he cradled her against his body, held her close until she was safely asleep. Then he held her an hour longer. He knew he’d be facing the stupidity of his actions full-on in the morning, but he was in no hurry to get there.

It wasn’t until the moon was high in the sky, and Mitch knew he was in real danger of falling asleep right there next to Jenny, that he eased her from his arms and tucked the covers around her. He risked a gentle kiss at her hairline, before slipping into his clothes and leaving her sleeping.

Jenny wasn’t surprised to wake up alone in the morning. Since the wedding had taken place on the holiday Monday, her alarm went off as usual for the workday on Tuesday. She had a few unfamiliar aches and pains in the shower, but she didn’t mind. Mitch had noticed her. Boy, had he noticed her.

She was a little embarrassed about tumbling into bed with him so quickly. But it wasn’t as though they were strangers. They were both adults, and he’d spent years living in big cities and moving in sophisticated social circles. She knew it was an entirely different dating world out there.

She dressed neatly and professionally for the office, her glasses back in place, and took a cab to the TCC. She’d call the auto club and get a boost sometime during the morning.

As usual, she arrived before Mitch. She put on the coffee in their three-room, second-floor office area, booted up her computer, checked both her and Mitch’s voice mail boxes for weekend messages and pulled her pending files out of the locked cabinet, sorting the issues in priority order on her desktop.

She was halfway through her new emails, when the door opened. She felt an excited hitch in her stomach and looked up to see Mitch walk into the office. A reflexive smile formed on her face. Should she stand? Would he hug her this morning? Kiss her? Or would they leave that kind of behavior outside the office?

He clicked the door shut. And when he turned back, she was surprised to see him scowling. Her smile drooped.

“Good morning,” she offered, studying his expression. Was something wrong? Was there a problem she hadn’t heard about? The rivalry over the upcoming club presidency election was well known. Had something more happened between Abigail and Brad?

Crisply dressed in his usual business suit, he set his jaw, squared his shoulders and crossed toward her.

She stood. “Mitch?”

“I owe you an apology,” he began without preamble, his focus settling somewhere beyond her left ear.

“You don’t—”

“My behavior last night was completely unforgivable.”

What did he mean? That he hadn’t danced with her, complimented her at the reception or that he’d left in the middle of the night without a word? Whichever it was, he was already forgiven.

“I took advantage of you, and I am profoundly sorry.”

Now she was completely confused. Was he talking about their lovemaking? Because she had been as willing and eager as him.

“I stepped way out of line,” Mitch continued, still not looking her in the eye. “You deserve better than that. You deserve better than me.”

Wait a minute. She didn’t want better than Mitch. She wanted Mitch.

He finally flicked a glance directly at her. “I hope you’ll still be comfortable working here. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure our professional relationship is not impacted.” His dark eyes softened slightly. “Can you forgive me, Jenny? Can we possibly forget it ever happened?”

A lead weight pressed down on Jenny’s chest, and her knees nearly buckled from lack of breath. Forget it ever happened? He wanted to forget he’d made love with her? Go on as if everything was normal, as if she was … was … some kind of one-night stand?

Reality washed over her like ice water.

She was a one-night stand.

Mitch had thought she was pretty, sexy, desirable and available last night, period. The sophisticated dress, heavy makeup and fancy hairdo hadn’t given him romantic thoughts. They had given him lustful thoughts.

A clipped laugh of embarrassment slipped out, and she quickly covered her lips with her fingers.

What a fool she’d been.

His gaze narrowed. “Jenny?”

She scrambled to gather her emotions. This was one of those moments. She’d been stupid. She’d made a complete fool of herself. In the aftermath, she could pull it together and pretend she was as sophisticated and aloof as him, or she could break down altogether, and he’d remember forever that she behaved like a gauche teenager the morning after.

She wouldn’t let that happen. She was tough. She was controlled. She could do this.

“No problem,” she managed to assure him with a dismissive wave of her hand, sitting down and turning back to her computer. “Business as usual. I get it. We slipped up. Hey, it happens.”

“Are you sure—”

“I’m fine,” she said with forced brightness. “If you don’t mind, I’d really like to get through these emails before coffee. The auto club will be here—” She stopped right there. No point in bringing up any reminders of their one-night fling. It was over and done, and she wasn’t going to think about it ever again.

The desk phone rang, and she scooped it up, turning her back completely on Mitch. “Texas Cattleman’s Club.”

“What happened?” It was Emily’s voice.

A flush prickled Jenny’s scalp. “Can I call you back?”

“Is he there?”

“Yes.”

“Roger. Got it. Call me back as soon as you can, okay?”

“I will.” Just as soon as she went to the bathroom and threw up.

She hung up the phone and stared at her computer, the characters blurring in front of her eyes.

He was still standing behind her.

She could feel his heat and hear his breathing.

She schooled her features and turned. “Is there anything else?”

He looked lost, and a little confused—an unheard of state for Mitch Hayward. “I really am sorry.”

Jenny gathered every bit of dignity she could muster. “So you said.”

“Maybe we could—”

“I don’t think talking about it is going to help.”

He paused for a moment. “Right. I guess not.”

“Like you said.” She turned and punched a couple of random computer keys. “We’ll simply forget it ever happened. Carry on as usual.” And she was absolutely, positively going to date other men. This silly fantasy of hers had gone on far too long. She was nearly thirty. Mitch was nowhere in her future, and she was ready to fully accept that reality.

When Jenny finally left the office at the end of the workday, Emily was there in the parking lot, leaning up against Jenny’s car, looking very impatient. Jenny’s steps faltered, but she knew she couldn’t avoid Emily forever.

“You didn’t call me back,” Emily accused, straightening away from the door panel.

“You sabotaged my car,” Jenny pointed out. The auto club guy had boosted it midmorning, and the battery was back in shape now.

“For a good cause.” Emily peered at Jenny’s expression. “Seriously. What on earth happened last night?”

“My life’s not going to change, that’s for sure.” Jenny focused on unlocking the car door.

“Did he insult you? Ignore you? What?”

Though she’d like nothing better than to take Mitch’s advice and forget last night ever happened, Jenny knew she couldn’t keep a secret like that from her best friend. It was too big, too devastating. It would eat her alive if she didn’t share it. Though it might eat her alive even if she did.

“Get in,” she told Emily, hitting the unlock button for the passenger side.

Emily quickly rounded the car and hopped in, pulling her seat belt into place. “Spill.”

Jenny cranked the engine, putting the car into Reverse, swinging around to head for the parking lot exit. She needed to get clear of the TCC building and the feeling of having Mitch close by before she spoke.

She followed the curve of the road and put her mouth on automatic pilot, struggling to stay detached from the words she was uttering. She tried to pretend she was talking about someone else, some poor, hapless woman who’d let her emotions rule her logic and who got exactly what she’d deserved.

“At first,” she told Emily, “it seemed like he didn’t notice me at all. Nothing was different. Except he didn’t ask me to dance. He always asks me to dance. As if he has to. Like it’s his duty. Since I’m technically his ‘date.’”

“Jen? You’re babbling.”

“Right.” Jenny’s moist hands slipped on the warm steering wheel. “He didn’t ask me to dance.”

“I got that.”

“I got ticked off and left. I mean, the hair, the dress, the makeup, the shoes. Do you blame me for being upset? Don’t you think any normal, red-blooded guy would have asked me to dance?”

“I don’t blame you for getting ticked off. And, for what it’s worth, I thought you looked hot.”

“Thank you. I agree. I felt like a fool. But I looked hot.”

Emily smirked and snorted out a laugh.

“So, I leave the reception. I head for my car.”

“Which I’d incapacitated.”

Jenny nodded her acknowledgment. “Which you’d incapacitated. Thank you very much, by the way.”

“Did it work?”

“Like a charm.”

“I knew it would.”

“He drove me home.”

“I knew he would.”

“And I slept with him.”

“I knew—” Emily twisted in her seat. “Wait a minute. What?”

“I slept with Mitch.” Jenny was really quite proud of how detached she sounded as she went into the sordid details. “I tore off my clothes. Or maybe I tore off his clothes, I can’t quite remember the details. In any event, we were both naked.”

Emily’s voice rose to a squeal. “You slept with Mitch Hayward?”

Jenny glanced at her friend’s incredulous expression. “Am I not saying this right?”

“On the first date?”

“Well, technically, it wasn’t a date. Or I guess you could say it was our twelfth date, if you count dates that aren’t really dates. But, really, at this point, I’m planning to take credit for them all. It makes me seem less slutty, don’t you think?”

“You’re not slutty.”

“I slept with a guy on the first date.”

“Twelfth date. And I thought you said your life wasn’t going to change?”

Jenny missed a stop sign and sucked in a shocked breath when she realized what she’d done. She was a careful, conscientious driver. Fortunately for her, there was no cross traffic.

“Maybe you better pull over,” Emily suggested in a worried tone.

“Yeah,” Jenny agreed. She eased her car into the gravel parking lot of the Royal Diner. She kept a death grip on the steering wheel until she came to a complete stop.

“What happened?” Emily asked gently. When Jenny didn’t answer, she put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Jen?”

“This morning …” Jenny swallowed. She wasn’t going to cry. She was an adult, and she would not cry over a cad like Mitch. “When he got to the office. He told me he was sorry, and he hoped we could forget all about it, carry on as usual, as if nothing had happened.”

“I can’t imagine Mitch—seriously?”

“Yes.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“That I deserved better than him.”

It was Emily’s turn to go silent. They both reflexively watched while a car pulled past them and turned into a spot near the diner’s front door. The car doors opened, and two teenagers hopped out.

Jenny was pretty sure she knew what Emily was thinking. It was what Jenny was thinking. It was what any reasonably intelligent adult would conclude.

“Yeah,” she voiced it out loud, her tone mocking. “He gave me the old, ‘it’s not you, it’s me, babe’ brush-off.”

“Ouch,” Emily whispered.

“I can’t believe I was a one-night stand. I’d have bet money against that ever happening. To me of all people. I’m not stupid, Em.”

“Of course you’re not stupid,” Emily staunchly defended. “I never would have guessed that Mitch of all people—”

“He’s a football star,” Jenny reminded her, feeling defeated. She wished she’d remembered that important fact last night. “He’s a celebrity, and the world is his oyster. I bet he does this kind of thing all the time.”

“But not with you.”

“He has now.”

Emily gestured with a spread palm. “But, you’re not … You know.”

“I am now.”

Emily thwacked her head against the seatback. “This is ridiculous.”

“I’m over it.”

“You are not.”

“I am. I have no choice. What you told me last night was spot-on. And I promised myself if this didn’t work out, I’d date other men. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Pining away over Mitch Hayward has gotten me exactly nowhere in the past, and it will get me exactly nowhere in the future. I refuse to do something so illogical.”

Emily sat up straighter, eyes narrowing, forehead creasing. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.” Jenny had never been more serious in her life.

Emily smacked the dashboard. “Then let’s get going.”

“Where?”

“Take Bainbridge to Payton for Harper’s Boutique. You’re going to need a new wardrobe.”




Three







After an excruciatingly long day at work, followed by a grueling physiotherapy session for his injured shoulder, Mitch pulled his Corvette in front of the garage of his rented, split-level house. The pain in his shoulder was bad enough, but then there were some of Jenny’s words that he couldn’t seem to get out of his mind.

“We slipped up,” she’d said. “Hey, it happens.” As if it was the kind of thing that had happened to her in the past. As if anything like their lovemaking had ever happened to him.

Sure, he’d dated his share of women. He was on the road, in the public eye, invited to parties and publicity events where supermodels wanted to hobnob with athletes.

But it wasn’t the same thing. There had never been anything like his night—well, his half night—with Jenny.

He exited the cool car, using his left arm to push the door shut, cursing the fact that his shoulder wasn’t healing as quickly as he’d hoped. He knew he wasn’t eighteen anymore, but he was in top physical shape, and he’d done every single thing the doctors and physiotherapists had told him to do.

He heard the sound of footsteps and looked up to see Cole, who lived across the street, pacing his way down the driveway.

“Hey,” Cole greeted with a nod, striding forward. Living so close to one another, the two men spent many casual evenings in each other’s company.

“Hey,” Mitch returned, hitting the lock button on his key fob.

“Shoulder okay?”

“It will be. But my physio is a sadist.”

“Poor baby.”

Mitch grunted.

“Got a beer?” asked Cole.

“Sure,” Mitch answered as he started for the front door. He’d rather have a double shot of single malt. But he’d read studies that told him drinking alcohol to relieve pain was a dangerous path to start down. He wondered if it was as dangerous for emotional pain as it was for physical pain.

“You took Jenny home last night,” Cole stated as he followed behind.

“So?” Mitch’s tone came out uncharacteristically sharp. But the last thing he wanted to do was talk about Jenny. “Her car broke down.”

“I saw she left it in the TCC parking lot.”

Case closed. There was nothing unusual about Mitch offering Jenny a ride home. He didn’t owe anybody any explanation.

He inserted his key and swung open the front door. He retrieved his Royal Crier newspaper from the metal bracket beside his house, and grabbed a handful of mail from his mailbox. Then he tossed it all, along with the keys, onto the side table in his small foyer.

The house was cool and dark, and he breathed a sigh of relief at being home. Maybe he’d take some pain pills later tonight. He had a feeling it was going to be a challenge to get to sleep.

“I was on the phone with Abigail for an hour today,” he told Cole, changing the subject from Jenny and choosing something familiar and safe as he crossed the living room to open the blinds. The direct sunlight had passed over his house hours ago and would now be shining on the back deck.

“Does she know that Brad’s being threatened with blackmail?” Cole asked. Few people knew about the blackmail threats to Brad, but Cole was a trusted confidant of most TCC board members and had been brought into the loop.

Mitch shook his head. “Not yet. At least not that she mentioned. She has some strong opinions on the design for the new clubhouse.”

Brad and Abigail were locked in a bitter fight for the upcoming presidential election at the Texas Cattleman’s Club. Mitch was pretty sure that Abigail would have spoken up if she knew that Brad was receiving vague, threatening notes that talked about exposing his “secret.”

“Whatever it is, it’s going to come out sooner or later.”

“I’m betting sooner.” Mitch opened the refrigerator and snagged two icy cold imported beers. “That’s the thing about secrets.”

“That’s the thing about secrets,” said Cole, an oblique look in his eyes as he accepted one of the chilled, green bottles. He twisted off the cap and tossed it into the trash.

Ignoring Cole’s dire tone, Mitch opened his own bottle and headed for the back deck. He settled into a padded chair beneath the shade of the awning, propping up his right arm to relieve the stress on his shoulder.

The deck provided a view across the seventh green of the Royal Golf Club. Two men were putting in the distance, while a foursome, two men and two women, made their way to the eighth tee. A breeze rippled the leaves on the perimeter oaks, bringing with it the scent of freshly cut grass.

Cole sat down. “Secrets,” he said, then took a swig.

“You got one that matters?” asked Mitch, trying to gauge his friend’s expression.

Cole smiled. “I think you do.”

Mitch squinted. “You know something I don’t?” Most of his life had been splashed across the national tabloids. Everybody in the country knew his yardage, his college grades, his weight. They’d even done a spread on his new haircut last fall.

“You got home at 4:00 a.m.”

Mitch stilled, and his voice lowered to a warning growl. He did not need to defend himself to Cole. “Last time I checked, I was over twenty-one.”

“You were with Jenny.” Cole’s tone wasn’t exactly judgmental, but there was a steadiness in his eyes that made Mitch feel like he was under interrogation.

Mitch didn’t want to lie, but he wasn’t about to tarnish Jenny’s reputation, either. So, he didn’t respond.

“Are you sure that was such a good idea?” asked Cole.

Mitch felt his heartbeat deepen, while adrenaline trickled into his system. “You might want to think about exiting this conversation along about now.”

“I’m worried about Jenny.”

“Jenny’s fine.”

“How would you know that?”

Mitch forced in a calming breath and took a long pull on his beer. He knew he should never have kissed her. And after she’d made his blood pressure skyrocket there in the car, he should never have walked her to the door.

But it was done. And he couldn’t change it. And it was none of anybody else’s damn business.

“What are your intentions?” ask Cole, his gaze steely.

“Is this a joke?”

“I’m dead serious. I’ve known Jenny since she was a little girl—”

“And I haven’t?”

“I didn’t sleep with her.”

Mitch came instantly to his feet, pain throbbing through his shoulder. He hated mounting an argument when he was in the wrong. Oh, he could do it. But he sure hated it. “Jenny is an adult. We talked this morning and—”

“And she told you she was fine?” Cole asked, brow arched.

Mitch came clean. “She said ‘we slipped up’ and ‘hey, it happens.’”

“Does that sound like Jenny to you?”

And that was where Mitch’s logic fell off the rails. It didn’t sound remotely like Jenny.

The accusation went out of Cole’s eyes, and Mitch felt his guard slip a notch.

Both men were silent for a few minutes, while the wind picked up, and the golf games continued on the course.

“What were you thinking?” asked Cole.

Mitch eased back down in his seat. “You saw her last night.”

“Yet I didn’t sleep with her.” Then Cole’s gaze grew contemplative, as if he was questioning his own judgment on that front.

Something dark burst to life inside Mitch, and he reflexively jerked forward. “Don’t you dare even think about sleeping with Jenny.”

Cole looked amused now. He obviously saw some kind of twisted humor in Mitch’s predicament. “That sounded a whole lot like jealousy. Why don’t you tell me again how you have no intentions toward her?”

Mitch could tell where Cole was going. But there was absolutely no future for him and Jenny. Jenny was a great girl, and Mitch was only human. “You know what I’m like.”

He and Cole had been friends since elementary school. Cole had played baseball instead of football, his smaller stature making that game a better fit. But he was fully aware of the perks available to elite athletes. And he was under no illusions about Mitch’s lifestyle.

“You’re not the guy I’d pick for my sister, that’s for sure,” Cole agreed.

“You don’t have a sister.”

“If I had one.”

“I’ll be leaving town after the election, or as soon as my shoulder heals,” Mitch added to the discussion. There was absolutely no future for the two of them. And Jenny deserved a guy who could give her a future.

Nipping things in the bud was the only way to keep from hurting her even more.

“I talked with Jeffrey Porter last night,” he put in, knowing it was a way to further emphasis his undesirability as a match for Jenny. Cole was well aware of Jeffrey’s many indiscretions.

Cole lifted his beer bottle in a mock toast. “Is he serving as your cautionary tale?”

“His girlfriend caught him cheating. You know,” Mitch mused aloud, “I honestly think Jeffrey said ‘no’ to the first hundred propositions. Then maybe one night he was alone. Maybe we’d lost the game. Maybe he got hurt on the field. Maybe the coach had reamed him out for something, and maybe he’d had a fight over the phone with Celeste. And there she was, a fresh, pretty, willing little sweet thing that would make all his problems go away. At least for a while. And so, he stumbled. And once he’d done it the first time, well …”

Mitch had watched the same scenario play out with dozens of players. His teammates tried to make relationships work, yet, inevitably, they were spectacular failures.

“You don’t have to sell me on the general sleaziness of professional athletes,” said Cole.

“I’m trying to sell you on the general sleaziness of me. I’m going back to that world, Cole. And I’m no different than any other guy on the team.”

“Then you had no business sleeping with Jenny.”

Mitch grunted out a cold laugh.

He ought to be drawn and quartered for what he’d done to Jenny. Guys like him had no business sniffing around caring, wholesome, defenseless girls like her.

Jenny was keeping a sinful secret. It had to do with her updated wardrobe. Though she’d worn her usual Friday outfit of gray linen slacks, matching blazer and her favorite aqua silk blouse to the office this morning, underneath it all, she wore skimpy purple lace panties and a matching push-up bra.

She and Emily had spent every evening this week shopping for new clothes. They’d started Tuesday at Harper’s Boutique. Then, they’d moved on to every high-fashion store within a fifty-mile radius.

Even if nobody had a clue, Jenny felt a little bit sexy. It was good for her bruised ego. As Emily had said on the drive home last night, Mitch had no idea what he was missing.

The outer office door opened with a rattle, and a uniformed courier entered, a white cardboard envelope in one hand and his electronic tracking device in the other.

“Delivery for Mr. Hayward,” the young man announced. He crossed the room and perched the envelope against her upright in-basket, holding out the tracking device.

Jenny took it and scrolled her signature across the grayed window. “Thanks.”

“Have a good day.” He gave her a salute of acknowledgment while he turned to leave.

As the door swung shut behind him, she ripped the perforated tab and reached into the depths of the cardboard pouch, extracting a smaller manila envelope. She retrieved a letter opener and sliced through the paper. Inside, she discovered four VIP tickets to tonight’s football game in Houston. The Texas Tigers versus the Chicago Crushers.

Her mood slipped another notch.

Like any good Texan, she loved football. And the last three times Mitch had been sent complimentary tickets to a nearby game, he’d invited her to join the group. But those days were obviously over.

A folded note slipped out of the envelope, and she opened it up. The jet will be at the airport at four, it read. Bring a date. It was signed by Mitch’s friend and teammate Jeffrey Porter.

“Jenny, can you please look up—” Mitch stopped short.

A jolt of guilt hit her. Which was ridiculous. She opened Mitch’s mail all the time. There was nothing on this package to indicate it was personal. And it wasn’t. He was a football player. He received packages from his team with some regularity.

“The tickets?” he asked, moving forward.

She nodded. Bundling them along with the note back into the manila envelope, pretending everything was perfectly normal in her world. “They say the jet will be at the airport at four.” For a split second, she wondered who his date might be, but then she quickly cut off that line of thinking, mentally admonishing herself.

She rose to deposit the empty cardboard packaging into the recycling bin.

She heard Mitch behind her, the envelope rustling. He was clearly reading the enclosed note.

Determined to banish the annoying jealousy, she turned and moved briskly back to her chair.

But she no sooner sat down than perversity made her speak out. “So, who are you taking?”

He went still, and she had to fight the urge to glance at his expression. She focused on picking up the scattered bits of cardboard from the envelope tab. She rolled them between her fingers and tossed them in the wastebasket.

Then she straightened a stack of papers on her desk, returned her letter opener to the drawer and lined up three pens in front of her phone.

Mitch’s voice was a deep rumble. “Do you want to come to the game, Jenny?”

She forced out a little laugh. “Of course not. That would be silly.”

“You can join me if you’d like.”

She looked up to where he stood above her, tone tart. “I would not like.”

Her words dropped into silence.

His gaze held hers, and for a long moment she couldn’t breathe. He seemed to be searching deep into her eyes.

Then his lips compressed, and his broad shoulders drew back beneath his suit. “You do understand why I’m no good for you, right?”

“Absolutely.”

He was no good for her because there were hundreds of beautiful women out there who were perfectly willing to throw themselves at a star quarterback. And Mitch was a star quarterback who wanted to be in a position to catch them.

She was a fool to ever think she could hold his attention. She wasn’t a movie star. She wasn’t a supermodel. And she sure wasn’t a bored debutante looking for a walk on the wild side.

“It has everything to do with me, and nothing to do with you,” he said.

“You do know that’s the oldest line in the book.”

“In this case, it happens to be true.”

“Well, that would be a first.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’ve heard it before?”

“Not me, specifically,” she admitted.

He snorted out a cold laugh. “Can we stop?”

“Sure.” She turned to her computer, pretending to read an email while she waited for him to walk away.

“That’s not what I meant,” he finally said.

She didn’t turn back. “Then what did you mean?”

“I’m inviting you to a football game.”

“And I’m turning you down.”

Mitch tapped the envelope against the desktop. “You’re making way too much of this.”

At that, she did turn. “You’re the one who won’t go away.”




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