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When We Met
Susan Mallery
New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery invites you back to Fool's Gold, where a newcomer to town might finally meet the man she never knew she needed…Angel Whittaker earned his scars the hard way, but the scars that can't be seen are the ones that haunt him the most. Since he moved to Fool's Gold, California, he's cobbled together a life for himself as a bodyguard trainer. If he's not exactly happy, at least his heart is safe.Working with pro-football superstars taught tough-talking PR woman Taryn Crawford one thing - she can go toe-to-toe with any man. But then dark, dangerous former Special Ops Angel targets her for seduction…and challenges her to resist his tempting kisses.Even in four-inch heels, Taryn never backs down. Unless, somehow, Angel can convince her that surrender might feel even better than victory.


New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery invites you back to Fool’s Gold, where a newcomer to town might finally meet the man she never knew she needed…
Angel Whittaker earned his scars the hard way, but the scars that can’t be seen are the ones that haunt him the most. Since he moved to Fool’s Gold, California, he’s cobbled together a life for himself as a bodyguard trainer. If he’s not exactly happy, at least his heart is safe.
Working with pro-football superstars taught tough-talking PR woman Taryn Crawford one thing—she can go toe-to-toe with any man. But then dark, dangerous former Special Ops Angel targets her for seduction…and challenges her to resist his tempting kisses.
Even in four-inch heels, Taryn never backs down. Unless, somehow, Angel can convince her that surrender might feel even better than victory.
Praise for New York Times bestselling author
Susan Mallery
“This book is a dynamite read filled with humor, compassion and sexy sizzle.”
—RT Book Reviews on Three Little Words, Top Pick!
“Both smile and tear inducing.
Mallery is one of a kind.”
—RT Book Reviews on Two of a Kind, Top Pick!
“Mallery delivers another engaging romance
in magical Fool’s Gold.”
—Kirkus Reviews on Just One Kiss
“In her second Blackberry Island novel, Mallery has again created an engrossing tale of emotional growth and the healing power of friendship as these three ‘sisters’ meet life’s challenges.”
—Library Journal on Three Sisters
“The wildly popular and prolific Mallery
can always be counted on to tell an engaging story
of modern romance.”
—Booklist on Summer Nights
“Mallery infuses her story with eccentricity, gentle humor, and small-town shenanigans, and readers...
will enjoy the connection between Heidi and Rafe.”
—Publishers Weekly on Summer Days
“Romance novels don’t get much better than Mallery’s expert blend of emotional nuance,
humor and superb storytelling.”
—Booklist
“Susan Mallery is one of my favorites.”
—#1 New York Times bestselling author
Debbie Macomber
When We Met
Susan Mallery



www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
There are few things in this world that are as amazing as my readers. I’ll admit there are plentyof wonderful miracles, but on the amazing front, my readers win, hands down. Here’s an example.
For five years, Fool’s Gold has been “The Land of Happy Endings.” For story reasons, I decided to make a change. When you read this book, you’ll see why. I hope you think the circumstances are as funny as I do. But I wasn’t feeling especially brilliant that week and couldn’t seem to come up with anything remotely workable. So I asked for help on Facebook—as I often do—and my amazing readers came through with fabulous suggestions for a new slogan.
The most amazing one came from Crystal B. So this book is dedicated to her. For being brilliant and lovely. Thank you, Crystal. And Mayor Marsha thanks you, too!
Contents
Chapter One (#u1432bfe1-3ed7-561a-80e4-90d974e16a09)
Chapter Two (#u30a302fc-74e9-5bec-a9cc-28d2fc61bb5e)
Chapter Three (#u21ee5acb-ef55-5998-9119-f9e2a51c9d73)
Chapter Four (#uc320e32a-f184-5db4-8945-973bcb957e1a)
Chapter Five (#ua26cd55e-891c-56e0-a87f-ea310e7b7c66)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
“WE BOTH KNOW where this is going.”
Taryn Crawford glanced up at the man standing by her table and ignored the rush of anticipation when she saw who he was. He was tall, with broad shoulders and gray eyes. But the most compelling feature—the one she would guess people pretended didn’t exist—was the scar on his neck. As if someone had once tried to slit his throat. Taryn idly wondered what had happened to the person who failed.
She supposed there were plenty of women who would be intimidated by the man in front of her. The sheer volume of muscle he had might make someone apprehensive. Not her, of course. When in doubt she put on a power suit and killer heels. If those failed her, she would simply work harder than anyone else. Whatever it took to win. Sure, there was a price, but she was okay with that.
Which was why she was able to stare coolly back and ask, “Do we?”
One corner of his mouth curved slightly in a sort of half smile. “Sure, but if you’re more comfortable pretending we don’t, I can make that work, too.”
“A challenge. Intriguing. You don’t expect that to be enough to make me defensive so I start saying more than I had planned, do you?” She made sure she was plenty relaxed in her chair. She would guess the man was paying as much attention to her body language as her words. Maybe more. She hoped he wouldn’t make things easy. She was tired of easy.
“I would hate for you to be disappointed,” she murmured.
The smile turned genuine. “I’d hate that, too.” He pulled out the chair opposite hers. “May I?”
She nodded. He sat.
It was barely after ten on a Tuesday morning. Brew-haha, the local coffee place she’d escaped to for a few minutes of solitude before she returned to the current chaos at her office, was relatively quiet. She’d ordered a latte and had pulled out her tablet to catch up on the latest financial news. Until she’d been interrupted. Nice to know this was going to be a good day.
She studied the man across from her. He was older than the boys, she thought. The three men she worked with—Jack, Sam and Kenny, aka “the boys”—were all in their early to mid-thirties. Her guest was nearer to forty. Just old enough to have the experience to make things intriguing, she thought.
“We’ve never been introduced,” she said.
“You know who I am.”
A statement, not a question. “Do I?”
One dark eyebrow rose. “Angel Whittaker. I work at CDS.”
Otherwise known as the bodyguard school, she reminded herself. For a small town, Fool’s Gold had its share of unusual businesses.
“Taryn Crawford.”
She waited, but he didn’t make a move.
“We’re not shaking hands?” she asked, then picked up her latte with both hers. Just to be difficult, because being difficult would make things more fun.
“I figured we’d save the touching for later. I find it’s better when that sort of thing happens in private.”
Taryn had opened Score, her PR firm, eight years ago. She’d had to deal with unwelcome passes, assumptions she was an idiot, being asked who the boss was, pats on her butt and people presuming that if she worked with three ex-football players, she must have gotten her job by sleeping with them. She was used to staying calm, keeping her opinions to herself and gaining victory through the unanticipated side run.
This time Angel had been the one to put the first points on the board. He was good, she thought, intrigued and only slightly miffed.
“Are you coming on to me, Mr. Whittaker? Because it’s still a little early in the morning for that sort of thing.”
“You’ll know when I’m making my move,” he informed her. “Right now I’m simply telling you how things are.”
“Which takes us back to your comment that we both know where this is going. I’ll admit to being confused. Perhaps you have me mixed up with someone else.”
She uncrossed, then recrossed her long legs. She wasn’t trying to be provocative, but if Angel got distracted, it was hardly her fault.
For a second she allowed herself to wonder how she would have been different if she’d been able to grow up in a more traditional home. One with the requisite 2.5 children and somewhat normal parents. She certainly wouldn’t be as driven. Or as tough. Sometimes she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
He leaned toward her. “I hadn’t taken you for the type to play games.”
“We all play games,” she told him.
“Fair enough. Then I’ll be blunt.”
She sipped her coffee, then swallowed. “Please.”
“I saw you last fall.”
“How nice,” she murmured.
When she’d been scouting locations. Moving a company required time and effort. They’d only truly settled in Fool’s Gold a couple of months ago. But she had been in town the previous fall, and yes, she’d seen Angel, as well. Found out who he was and had wondered about...possibilities. Not that she was going to admit that to him.
“I watched you,” he continued.
“Should I be concerned you’re a stalker?”
“Not when you were watching me right back.”
He’d noticed? Damn. She’d tried to be subtle. She thought about lying but decided to simply stay silent. After a second, he continued.
“So we’ve finished sizing each other up,” he said. “Now it’s time to move on to the next phase of the game.”
“There are phases?” Which was an actual question. No point in mentioning the game. She knew what they were doing. Still, it was entertaining to pretend she didn’t.
“Several.”
“Do you provide instructions or a scorecard?”
His cool gray eyes stayed focused on her face. “You don’t play that way.”
“Be careful with your assumptions.”
“I’m not assuming.”
He had an appealing voice. Low with a hint of... Not the Deep South, she thought. But there was a cadence. Virginia? West Virginia?
She put down her mug. “If I buy in to your assertion—which I’m not admitting I do.”
“Of course not.”
She ignored the words and the amusement tugging at his lips. “Where do you see this going?”
He leaned back in his chair. “This is a mating game, Taryn. Or didn’t you know?”
Ah, his first mistake. She kept her eyes locked with his and didn’t let her triumph show. “You want to marry me?”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Not that kind of mating.”
“If you’re not precise, it’s difficult to be sure. So you want to sleep with me.”
“Yes, but it’s about more than that.”
She let her gaze drift down his chest, then moved to his arms. Despite the cool late-April temperatures, he wore a T-shirt and no jacket. She could see a tattoo of a rose, along with several scars on his arms. His hands were strong and equally battered.
She returned her attention to the scar on his neck and decided to ask the obvious. “What happened to the other guy?”
He touched the side of his throat, then shrugged. “He had a very bad day.”
Taryn lived in the world of business. She could talk finance and sales projections, but her real gift was designing public relationship campaigns that were innovative and successful. At Score the work was divided among the four partners. Kenny and Jack were the rainmakers. They found prospective clients and reeled them in. Sam handled the money. But Taryn was the creative engine that steered the ship.
She was used to executives, graphic artists, bankers and everything in between. In her sphere, she was a power player and no one crossed her. But Angel was from a different sphere altogether. His clout didn’t come from a boardroom or the right suit. He carried it in his body. It was part of who he was.
She knew a few odds and ends about him. People she respected and trusted liked him. But the details? They were still a mystery. One she would like to solve.
“What makes you think I’m the least bit interested?” she asked.
“You’re still here.”
A good point. She didn’t want another executive—he would be too much like her. As for sports heroes, she worked with three and they exhausted her. Angel was different. Right now different sounded like exactly what she needed.
“Effort will be required,” she told him.
“Ditto.”
She laughed at the unexpected statement.
“You didn’t think I’d be easy, did you?” he asked.
“Apparently not.”
He stood. “Don’t worry. I’m good at planning the right op for the right mission and then seeing it through.” He crossed to the door, then turned back to her. “And I’m good at waiting.”
He walked out, leaving her with her rapidly cooling coffee and an article on consumer confidence that had just gotten a whole lot less interesting than her encounter with an intriguing man named Angel.
* * *
SMUG FELT GOOD, Angel thought as he crossed the street and headed for City Hall. He’d been waiting for the right moment to talk to Taryn, and when he’d seen her having coffee by herself, he’d decided to act. She was as intriguing as he’d hoped—intelligent, confident and sexy as hell. A combination he would have trouble resisting under the best of circumstances. But in this town, with her always around... He’d wanted to make his move the first day.
Waiting had been better, he told himself as he jogged up the stairs to the front of the government building. Now he could put his plan into action. The one that led them down a road of temptation, with an ultimate objective that should satisfy them both.
He took more stairs to the second floor and followed the signs to the mayor’s office.
Mayor Marsha Tilson was California’s longest-serving mayor. She served the town well and seemed to know everyone’s secrets. Angel had yet to figure out where she got her information, but from what he’d seen, she had a network that would put most governments to shame.
He entered her office exactly fifteen seconds before the time of his appointment.
Her assistant, an older woman in a black blazer, looked up at him with red and puffy eyes. Angel immediately sensed bubbling emotion and glanced around the room to discover all available exits.
The woman, a full-figured brunette, sniffed. “You must be Mr. Whittaker. Go right in. She’s expecting you.”
Angel did as instructed, hoping to find a calmer atmosphere in the mayor’s office. His cautious optimism was rewarded. Mayor Marsha looked as she always did—perfectly put together. She wore a light green suit and pearls and had her white hair neatly swirled up in a bun. She smiled and stood when she saw him.
“Mr. Whittaker. You made it.”
“Angel, please.” He crossed the room and shook hands with her, then settled in the seat across from hers.
Her office was large with several windows. Behind her desk were the flags of the United States and the state of California, along with a large seal he would guess represented the city of Fool’s Gold.
“Your assistant’s upset,” he said.
“Marjorie’s worked with me for years. But her twin daughters have settled in Portland, Oregon. They’re both pregnant. Marjorie’s husband retired, so they’re going to move closer to family. While she’s excited about being nearer to her daughters and future grandchildren, she’s sad about leaving all of us here.”
More than he wanted to know, he thought, keeping his expression polite.
Mayor Marsha smiled. “Now I’ll have to find someone new. Hiring staff is relatively easy, but an assistant is a different matter. There has to be chemistry and trust. One can’t let just anyone know the town’s secrets.” The smile widened. “Not why you came to see me today.” She leaned forward and picked up a file from the stack on her large desk.
“All right, Angel, let’s see what we have here.” She slipped on reading glasses. “You’re interested in a project that will involve you with the community.”
Angel had been to some of the most dangerous parts of the world in various capacities. He’d taken his sniper training into the private sector and now designed curricula for people training to be professional bodyguards. Not much surprised him. But he would swear he hadn’t told anyone his reason for making his appointment with Mayor Marsha, which begged the question: How did the old lady know?
She glanced at him over her glasses. “Did I have that correct?”
He decided he had little choice but to simply nod and say, “Yes, ma’am.”
The smile returned. “Good. You have a unique background and an unusual skill set. I’ve given the matter a lot of thought and I think you’d be a perfect Grove Keeper.”
Grove what? “Ma’am?”
“Are you familiar with the history of the town?” she asked, then closed the folder. “This is California, so there was the expected exploration by the Spanish in the 1700s, but long before that, Fool’s Gold was settled by the Máa-zib Tribe.”
Angel had heard something about that. “A branch of Mayans,” he murmured. “Matriarchal.”
“Yes.” The smile returned. “I would guess you’d respect a group of women who only want to use a man for sex.”
Angel wasn’t sure if he should flinch or pat the old lady on the back. Instead he cleared his throat. “All right,” he said slowly. “Interesting.”
“It is. We have long celebrated our Máa-zib culture, and that includes a youth group. Future Warriors of the Máa-zib. Young people start with a two-month introduction to what it’s like to be in the FWM. That’s followed by four years of membership. We have Acorns, Sprouts, Saplings, Sky-Reachers and Mighty Oaks. Each group or troop is known as a grove, and the person in charge is a Grove Keeper.”
She put down her glasses. “We have a grove in need of a keeper, and I think they need you.”
Kids, he thought with surprise. He liked kids. His goal had been to get involved with Fool’s Gold because he’d decided to stay here and he’d been raised to give back to the community. He’d thought maybe he could volunteer on some advisory committee or teach a continuing ed class—although his skill set didn’t exactly fit in the regular world. Still...kids.
He hesitated only a second, then realized it had been long enough since he’d lost Marcus. The pain was still there—would always be a part of him, like a scar, or his heart—but it had become manageable. He thought by now he would be able to work with teenaged boys without wanting to argue with the heavens about how unfair it had all been.
“Sure,” he said easily. “I can run a grove.”
Amusement twinkled in Mayor Marsha’s blue eyes. “I’m glad to hear it. I think you’ll find the experience fulfilling on several levels. I’ll make sure you get your material in the next few days. Then you can meet with the Grove Council.”
He grinned. “Seriously? There’s a Grove Council?”
She laughed. “Of course. These are Future Warriors of the Máa-zib. What else would there be?”
She rose and he did, as well. “Thank you, Angel. Usually I have to go out and convince new residents to pitch in. I appreciate that you came to me.” She studied him. “I assume your interest in giving back is the result of your background. You grew up in a coal mining town, didn’t you? West Virginia?”
While the information wasn’t secret, it wasn’t something he shared very often. “You’re a spooky woman,” he told her. “You know that, right?”
The smile broadened. “Not many people have the courage to say it to my face, but I do hope that’s what they’re saying behind my back.”
“They are,” he assured her.
They shook hands and he left. Marjorie was still in tears, so he hustled out and hit the stairs at a jog. Maybe he would spend the afternoon looking for campsites, he thought cheerfully. He had plenty of survival skills he could pass on to his FWM grove. Ways to help them grow up to be confident men. Yeah—this was going to be good.
* * *
“JACK, STOP IT,” Taryn said without looking up from the papers in front of her.
The shifting sound stilled, only to start up again five seconds later. She drew in a breath and glanced across the small conference table.
“Seriously,” she told him. “You’re worse than a five-year-old.”
Jack McGarry, her business partner and ex-husband, rotated his shoulder. “When does Larissa get here?”
“I told you. She gets here tomorrow. In twenty-four hours you’ll have her back. Now can you please focus?”
Sam, the only calm, rational partner, leaned back in his chair. “You’re trying too hard. You know that never works.”
Because it was her job to try hard. She kept “the boys” on a tight leash because if she didn’t, they would run all over her.
She’d known Jack the longest. After their quickie marriage and equally speedy divorce, he’d set her up in business. He’d provided the money, she’d brought the PR know-how and Score had been an instant success—helped by Jack throwing a lot of business her way. It had been a great arrangement.
Unfortunately four years later, Kenny had blown out his knee and ended his career. Sam had been thinking of getting out of the NFL, and for reasons Taryn couldn’t figure out, Jack had joined them. Her ex had walked away from his starring role as a quarterback with the L.A. Stallions. He claimed he wanted to go out on top, but she suspected his departure had more to do with his friends than anything else. Not that Jack would admit it.
There they were—three ex-jocks—with plenty of cash and fame and no second act in the wings. Oh, wait. Jack was half owner of a PR firm. Before she’d known what was happening, he’d brought Kenny and Sam on board and all four of them were partners.
At first she’d been sure they would crash and burn, but more quickly than she would have guessed possible, they’d become a team and then a family. Jack and Kenny were the salesguys. They brought in the clients and were the public face of the firm. Sam handled the finances, both for the company and for each of them privately. Not only was he smart, but he’d actually gone to his classes in college.
Taryn handled everything else. She ran the business, bossed around the boys and created the campaigns that had continued to add to their net worth. Theirs was an unconventional arrangement, but it worked for them.
Jack shifted again, the muscle in his cheek tightening. She reminded herself he wasn’t trying to be difficult—he was in pain. No one could get through nearly a decade in the NFL and not have the battered body to prove it. Larissa, Jack’s personal assistant and the boys’ private masseuse, hadn’t been able to move to Fool’s Gold as quickly as the rest of them. After nearly a month without her healing touch, all three of the former players were suffering.
“Tomorrow,” she said again.
“You sure?”
“Yes.” She paused. “You could take something.”
The statement was made in her most gentle voice, one her partners almost never heard. Because she knew that Jack was going to refuse. With permanent injuries and the discomfort that went with them, painkillers could be a slick road to hell. None of the guys wanted to go there.
“What’s next?” he asked, ignoring her words.
“We’re up,” Kenny told him, then opened the file in front of him. “Jack and I had a second meeting with the CEO and founder of Living Life at a Run.” He reached for the remote in the center of the table and hit a button. The screen at the far end of the room lit up and a logo came into focus.
Taryn studied the angular letters and the quirky acronym. LL@R. She wanted to point out that one of the a’s was missing, but she knew there wasn’t any point. The company’s CEO had a reputation for being eccentric and difficult. But he offered them a shot at traditional retail—one area of the PR market where Score had never had much luck finding clients.
“They’re growing fast,” Kenny said. “They’re trendy and a lot of celebrities are wearing their clothes.”
“The clothing is a secondary market for them,” Jack added. “Their main focus is sports gear. If we could get them, we could move toward bigger companies. Like REI.”
Taryn would love to get her hands on a premium company like REI but the old cliché was true. They would have to learn to walk before they could learn to run.
“What’s next?” she asked.
“I have another meeting in a few days,” Kenny said.
Taryn waited and sure enough, Jack stared at his friend. “I? I? Is that where we are? Each out for what we can get? What happened to the team? What happened to us being a family?”
Kenny, all six feet four inches of blond brawn, groaned. “Give me a break. You know what I meant.”
“Do I? Sounds to me like this is all about you.”
“You need to be specific,” Sam said mildly, obviously content to join the mock argument. Taryn knew that any second now he would turn on Jack, because that’s what always happened when they were like this.
They were each successful, good-looking and worth at least eight figures. Yet there were times when they were as unruly and mischievous as a litter of puppies. Sam and Jack were both dark-haired. Sam, the former kicker, was lean and just six feet tall. Jack had him by a couple of inches and at least thirty pounds of muscle. Jack’s classic quarterback physique—broad shoulders, narrow hips, long legs—had served him well, both on and off the field. Then there was Kenny, the gentle giant of the group.
Her boys, she thought as they bickered. They were responsible for her move to Fool’s Gold—something she wasn’t sure she was willing to forgive just yet. The town wasn’t as bad as she’d first thought, but it sure wasn’t L.A. She loved L.A.
“So I’ll be in charge?” Jack asked with a grin.
“Your mama,” Kenny told him.
“Don’t break anything,” Taryn said as she collected her papers and started for the door. Because whenever she heard “your mama,” body blows were sure to follow.
Sam went with her. “Not going to try to stop them?” he asked cheerfully as they stepped into the hallway.
“That would be your job.”
Something hit the wall with a thud. Sam kept walking. “No, thanks.”
“The three of you are never going to grow up, are you?” she asked.
“I’m not the one fighting.”
She glanced at him. “Not this time.”
He gave her a wink, then sauntered away. Taryn continued to her office. In the distance, she heard a crash. She ignored it and checked her schedule for the day. She had a conference call at eleven and Graphics had asked for a few minutes.
“Thanks,” Taryn said as she sat at her desk. She glanced at her computer. “Just another day in paradise.” And she loved every minute of it.
The boys were her family, and no matter how many chairs, tables, windows and hearts they broke, she would stand by them. Even if every now and then she fantasized about how much more serene her life would be if she’d gone into business with a couple of pacifist guys who believed in the power of meditation for conflict resolution.
Somewhere in the distance, glass shattered. Taryn continued to look at her computer screen as she kept on typing.
CHAPTER TWO
TARYN STACKED DISHES on the narrow counter. The kitchen was tiny. A miniature galley-style, with a three-quarter-sized stove and refrigerator. The colors were nice and the appliances updated, but still there wasn’t actually room for two people.
“Explain this to me,” she said, unwrapping glasses and setting them next to the plates. “I sign the paychecks. I happen to know you could afford a bigger place.”
Larissa Owens lifted a pot out of the box she’d put on the table. She’d pulled her long blond hair back into a ponytail and didn’t wear a speck of makeup. She was lithe and tan and looked amazing in yoga pants and a T-shirt. If Taryn didn’t already adore her, Larissa could be easy to hate.
“I don’t need a bigger place,” her friend told her. “A small one-bedroom is plenty. The rent is really cheap so I’ll have more money for my causes.”
Which was exactly what would happen, Taryn thought, picking up scissors and flipping the empty box so she could cut across the tape and then flatten it. Larissa was a giant bleeding heart when it came to causes, especially if there were animals involved. In addition to her full-time job, she volunteered at a couple of shelters, fostered dogs, cats and bunnies and sent money to nearly every organization that asked.
Taryn glanced around at the maybe six-hundred-square-foot apartment. “You won’t be getting a pet bigger than a goldfish in here.”
“I could get a cat,” Larissa told her cheerfully. “I wouldn’t want a dog. I’m not home enough. Besides, if I need something bigger—”
“There’s always Jack’s place,” Taryn said, finishing the sentence. “Yes, I know.”
Jack, who let Larissa use him to support those organizations near and dear to her. Taryn had never been able to figure out why, but the situation worked for them. As a former NFL quarterback, Jack was expected to throw his weight behind some kind of charity. As he’d lost a twin with a heart condition back when they were both kids, he’d chosen to get involved with kids needing organ transplants. Or rather, Jack wrote the check for housing, transportation, whatever, and Larissa took care of staying in touch.
“He misses you desperately,” Taryn told her.
“I’ve been hearing that in his incessant voice mails.” Larissa wrinkled her nose. “He misses my massages. It’s not exactly the same thing.”
“You’re also his assistant. I’m sure he misses you getting him coffee.”
Larissa grinned. “That, too.” She reached for the scissors and flattened her box. “So, the town. I thought you were kidding when you described it to me.”
“Would that I were,” Taryn told her. “But, no. It’s charming and clean and the people are overly friendly.”
“I like it,” Larissa said as she handed Taryn another box, then got one for herself. “I feel like I’ve already made friends. The lady who owns that cute coffee shop paid for my coffee this morning. That was really nice.”
“Patience,” Taryn grumbled. “Her name is Patience. Yes, she’s lovely. They’re all lovely. Except for Charlie, who’s a firefighter and crabby. I like her a lot.”
Actually she liked everyone she’d met, which was kind of annoying. What if all the niceness wore off on her? What if she started smiling at random strangers and saying cheerful things like “Have a nice day”? She shuddered. Being sarcastic and emotionally distant had always served her well. Why mess with success?
“Are the guys settling in?” Larissa asked.
“I guess. You know I try to avoid talking about their personal lives with them whenever possible, so my information may not be totally accurate. But as far as I know, Jack and Kenny seem bimbo-free for the moment, and Sam, well...” She grinned. “Poor Sam.”
Larissa pressed her lips together. “We shouldn’t make fun of him.”
“Why not? It’s not like he can hear us.”
“But it’s so sad.”
It kind of was, Taryn thought, but it was also really, really funny. Sam Ridge, all-star kicker and multimillionaire, had the worst luck when it came to women. If there was a femme fatale in a fifty-mile radius, Sam found her and fell for her. He’d experienced everything from a stalker to an ex-wife writing a near tell-all to having his girlfriend sleep with his best friends.
“I’m waiting for him to fall for a transvestite,” Larissa said with a grin. “Poor Sam.”
“I don’t get it,” Taryn admitted. “He’s smart and insightful. But when it comes to women, he can’t seem to find anyone normal.”
“What about you?” Larissa asked, her tone teasing. “Met anyone tempting?”
The question was meant as a joke. Taryn knew that. She rarely dated. She liked guys, she slept with them, but she didn’t get involved. There was no way she was trusting her heart or any part of her psyche to some man. Talk about stupid.
Except when Larissa asked her question, Taryn immediately thought about Angel. And thinking about Angel meant she wasn’t thinking about anything else and she couldn’t seem to make her mouth move to form the words What? A guy? With me? No way.
Larissa put down the frying pan she’d just unwrapped and stared at her friend. “Oh my God. What? You met someone? Who is he? Tell me everything.” Her big blue eyes widened. “Is he local? Like a single dad.” She sighed. “That would be so romantic. Some sweet guy with a couple of little kids. Like a car mechanic or maybe he owns a little grocery store and they live upstairs. He still misses his wife, but he’s ready to move on. Only I don’t know how you’re going to feel about the kids.”
Taryn stared at her. “You don’t need me here for this conversation, do you? A widower with two kids and a grocery store? That is not happening.”
Larissa’s shoulders slumped. “Why don’t you like him? He’s so nice.”
Taryn held in a scream. “There is no grocery store guy. You made him up. What’s wrong with you? Jeez. The only guy I’m interested in is a former black ops sniper with a scar like somebody slit his throat.”
Larissa handed her the frying pan. “I’d rather date the guy who owns the grocery store.”
“The one who isn’t real?”
“You always focus on the wrong stuff. So tell me about Sniper Man.”
“There’s not much to tell.”
Taryn starting putting plates and bowls in the cupboards, knowing that wasn’t going to be close to enough to distract her friend.
“There’s something,” Larissa told her. “You’re attracted to him.”
“Maybe. Yes. A little.” She sighed. “At least he’s a widower. That should make you happy.”
She’d learned that much at least. But it was hard to get information without telling people why she wanted it, and she wasn’t ready to tell the world that she thought Angel was hot.
“It’s something. But he won’t buy a grocery store?”
“Larissa, I beg you. Stop.”
Larissa smiled. “Everyone thinks you’re tough, but you’re really not.”
“I can be, just not with you.”
“Okay, this Angel guy. You’re dating?”
“Not exactly. We’re sizing up each other.”
“What does that mean?”
Taryn thought about Angel’s announcement that he was good at waiting. A little ripple of anticipation shimmied down her spine as she wondered when he was going to make his move. He was making her wait on purpose, and she respected that. He wanted the game to be intriguing...for both of them.
“I have no idea,” she admitted. “But I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”
* * *
ANGEL PUT THE copy of the bridal magazine on the desk. Ford stared at him in disbelief.
“Just like that?” his friend asked. “Did you wake up thinking this would be a good day to die?”
“She’s engaged,” Angel said, grinning. “She’s wearing an engagement ring. I’m celebrating the moment.”
Ford held up both hands in a classic move of surrender, but Angel was feeling adventurous. Lately, he’d had the sense that everything was going his way. The answer to the Dirty Harry question of “Do I feel lucky?” was yes. He did. It didn’t matter that the movie had come out a year before he was born. He could relate to the character. When in doubt, a bigger gun usually got the job done.
Consuelo, their petite colleague, walked into the office. She looked at the magazine, then at the two of them.
“It was him,” Ford said, pointing at Angel. “He did it.”
Angel glanced at his friend. “Is that how things are now?”
Ford inched toward the door. “Law of the jungle, bro. While she’s feeding on you, I can make my escape. Isabel and I are trying to make a baby. I want to be around to see my kid grow up.”
Consuelo, all five feet two inches of muscle and determination, picked up the magazine, flipped through it, then put it back on the desk. She smiled at Angel. “Thanks. That was thoughtful.”
He shot Ford a “See?” look, then moved toward her. “I know you and Kent got engaged. I hope you’ll be very happy together.”
Consuelo stepped into his embrace and hugged him. When he drew back, she casually stepped to the side, grabbed Ford by the arm and flipped him onto his back. He landed on the floor with a thud. When he could breathe again, he sat up.
“Hey, what was that for?” he asked in a tone of outrage.
“For being cynical. You’re married and you should know better.”
Consuelo turned her back on him, picked up the magazine and headed for the door. “I’ll be back after lunch,” she called.
“It’s not even ten,” Ford grumbled as he climbed to his feet. “Why does she get to leave?”
Angel chuckled. “You want to tell her she can’t?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so. Come on, we’ll head out, too.”
“Where are we going?” Ford asked, falling into step with him.
“To a nursery.”
“Baby or plant?”
“Plant. I ordered an orchid a couple of months ago. It’s in and I have to sign the card so it can be delivered.”
They went outside.
“Why would an orchid take two months to get here?” Ford asked.
“It’s rare. I wanted a specific one.”
From Thailand, Angel thought. An orchid known for its contrasting colors. The outside of the flower was the palest pink, but inside was a dark violet blue. The unusual shade was nearly the exact color of Taryn’s eyes.
“Why do you care about flowers?”
Angel glared at his friend. “What’s with you today? Stop asking questions. Are you coming with me or not?”
Ford leaned against his Jeep and grinned. “Someone’s not getting any. You always get moody when you’re not getting laid.”
“Shut up.”
“Thanks for illustrating my point.”
* * *
TARYN PARKED HER car and collected her briefcase. She’d gone through paperwork the previous evening, had caught up on emails and then been in bed by ten. As a personal life went, it was beyond sad. She needed to get out more, make some friends. As she’d told Larissa the previous day, people in town were certainly nice enough. The women had all been friendly. It was just...
She started across the parking lot and sighed. The town wasn’t the problem, she admitted, if only to herself. She was. She had trouble making new friends. She didn’t trust easily, so sharing any part of herself was difficult. She’d had more than one man point out that after seeing her for several weeks—and by seeing, he meant sleeping with—the guy in question knew absolutely nothing more about her than he had when they’d first met. She never bothered to tell them that was the point. If they were too stupid to figure that out, why should she waste breath telling them?
She hadn’t wanted to leave Los Angeles, but she’d been outvoted. Score was now located in Fool’s Gold. She had to make the best of the situation. More important, she needed to get her life moving again. There had to be more to her days than work.
She heard the sound of a basketball steadily hitting the sidewalk and ignored it. But Sam was nothing if not persistent and he quickly caught up with her.
“Driving to work?” he asked. “You live a mile away.”
She paused and faced him. “Have you seen my shoes?” she asked. “I’m wearing Charlotte Olympia pumps with a five-inch heel. Could you walk to the corner in them? I don’t think so. Besides, you can’t talk to me today. I’m taller.”
Sam sighed. “It’s going to be one of those days, isn’t it?”
“You betcha.”
She flashed Sam a smile, then disappeared into their building. He walked across the street to the basketball court the guys had insisted be part of the remodeling. Not even a half-court, like at their last office. No, this was regulation size. She didn’t know what it had cost and she didn’t want to know.
Had any of her business partners been with her, she would have grumbled to them about how annoying they were, but as she was alone, she paused to look out the window. The three of them, Kenny, Jack and Sam, all wore baggy shorts and T-shirts. Sam, six feet tall and muscled, looked small next to the other two, but he was fast and used his brain when he played. Kenny and Jack mostly reacted. Which explained why Sam usually kicked their butts.
They fought for the basketball, and then Sam ripped it away, turned gracefully, jumped and scored. As she watched, Taryn realized that the boys needed more than each other, too. The same three guys playing basketball a few mornings a week couldn’t be that much fun.
She started toward her office. When she was at her desk, she picked up her phone but set it back in the cradle. She told herself the guys were well into their thirties and could take care of themselves. That she didn’t want anyone—namely Angel—thinking she was angling to find ways to see him. Of course telling him this wasn’t about him would only make him think it was. She sighed and picked up the phone again.
“CDS,” a man’s voice said.
“Justice Garrett, please.”
“Speaking.”
“Hi, Justice, I’m Taryn Crawford. I know your wife. I’m a partner at Score, here in town.”
“Right. Patience has mentioned you. The PR firm with the football players.”
“That’s us.” This was stupid. She felt like a mom trying to set up a playdate for her socially awkward child. Except despite her grumbling about the move, she really did want the guys to be happy. They might annoy her from time to time, but they were all the family she was ever likely to have.
“You have ex-military guys employed there,” she began. “They like to work out and stuff?”
There was a pause. Taryn could present a multimillion-dollar PR presentation to the most uptight skeptic with no problem. Why was this so hard?
“Was that a question?” Justice asked.
“No. Okay, so you know about Jack, Kenny and Sam, right? Former football players. They’re still competitive and...” She told herself to get to the point. “The guys have a new outdoor basketball court. They play a few mornings a week. I thought you and your guys might like to join them.”
There was another pause, then Justice chuckled. “My guys and I would like that very much. I hope yours aren’t sore losers.”
Taryn grinned. “Nice try. Your team is so going down.”
“We’ll see about that. What time do they start?”
“Six. Day after tomorrow.”
“We’ll be there.”
She hung up, feeling more than a little proud of herself. She logged in to the company’s remote data storage and downloaded the work she’d done the previous night, then updated several accounts.
At nine, she met with her graphics and design people. Her team of six was the heart of the organization. All presentations came out of that office, including graphic design, layout and videos for sample commercials and promotional spots.
There was also Sam’s staff of two accountants who ran all the numbers; Taryn’s assistant who doubled as the office manager; Larissa, Jack’s personal assistant and the boys’ private masseuse; along with Kenny and Sam’s assistant.
When Kenny, Jack and Sam had first come to her about moving to Fool’s Gold, she’d warned them that they would lose valuable staff. One of the few times in her life when she’d been wrong when it came to business, she thought. Everyone had been excited about relocating. Taryn had been the lone holdout.
Who could have guessed that carefully selecting family-oriented, well-adjusted employees would come back to bite her in the butt? she thought with a grin.
Her assistant stepped into her office. “They’re ready for you.”
Taryn followed her into the smaller conference room. Sam, Jack and Kenny were there, freshly showered after their morning game—because part of the remodeling had included putting in a locker room. Make that two, because while Taryn never planned to bathe at work, she’d insisted on equal facilities for the women. So they, too, had large showers, lockers and a steam room. The difference was she never insisted on holding meetings in the steam room, while the boys had on more than one occasion.
Now she walked to the far end of the table and opened the laptop there. Then her gaze settled on Jack, who had chosen not to dress after his shower. He sat at the conference table in a white robe and flip-flops.
“Let me guess,” she said. “Larissa is here.”
“She’s warming up the massage table as we speak.”
“Tell me you’re wearing underwear,” she said.
Jack winked.
“My team’s been working on several campaigns,” she said as she typed on the laptop. Through the company’s internal network, she could access her computer files remotely and pull up any necessary information.
“Here’s what we came up with for the Klassique Rum campaign. We’ll have the sample commercial ready by the end of the week, but in the meantime, here are our thoughts for print ads and the Facebook campaigns.”
She touched her computer keyboard, and a slide appeared on the large screen at the opposite end of the room. “We pulled colors from their new labels. Obviously rum means parties and fun.”
“Beach parties,” Kenny corrected, then grinned at Jack. “That was a hell of a weekend.”
The two of them had visited Klassique’s headquarters in the Caribbean. While Taryn had been invited, she’d passed. Watching Kenny and Jack in action with dozens of nubile, willing women wasn’t her idea of a good time.
The speakerphone in the center of the table buzzed.
“Jack, Larissa’s ready,” Taryn’s assistant said.
Jack was already up and moving. “See you later,” he called.
“I really hope he keeps his robe on until he gets into the massage room,” Taryn murmured.
“Me, too,” Sam told her. “Because he’s not wearing any underwear.”
Fortunately their employees were good-natured about the idiosyncrasies of working for former jocks, but every now and then Taryn had to field a complaint about too much male nudity.
Usually from the spouse of one of the female employees.
Taryn turned her attention back to the campaign. She went through it slide by slide. Kenny had several insights from the client’s perspective, while Sam tallied costs. Two hours later, when they had nearly finished, Jack walked back into the room.
He’d dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. But more than that, Taryn noticed how much more easily he moved. He sat next to Kenny.
“She says to give her fifteen minutes to relax her hands, and then she’ll be ready for you,” Jack said.
Kenny nodded.
Taryn glanced at Sam. “You okay waiting?”
“Sure.”
As a kicker, Sam had been beat up the least. The other two joked he had the easiest job in the game. Taryn knew differently. While she normally wouldn’t have ever bothered learning anything about the sport, her partnership meant she had to know more than the basics when it came to football. The kicker might not take the hits the other players did, but he worked under incredible pressure. Every second on the field meant being at the very center of everyone’s attention, often with games hanging in the balance. The NFL was a multibillion-dollar industry, and if you couldn’t handle the intense scrutiny, you weren’t going to last very long.
“What did I miss?” Jack asked.
“I’ll fill you in later,” Kenny told him.
Taryn glanced down the list of what she’d wanted to cover. “I think we’re nearly through everything. Sam, are you ready to update us on the party?”
She did her best to ask the question without any annoyance in her voice. Because after moving the entire company to Fool’s Gold, the boys had decided to entertain their largest clients with a big weekend party. They’d rented out a part of the Gold Rush Ski Lodge and Resort for a long weekend of the Summer Festival—whatever that was. Now about twenty clients, their spouses and assorted children were going to show up and expect to be entertained.
Sam cleared his throat. “Sure,” he began. “We’re having the clients in, as we discussed. In July.”
“During the Summer Festival, right?” Kenny asked.
Taryn turned to him. “You know about the festivals?”
“Sure. It’s one of the reasons we wanted to move here. The town has festivals every month, to celebrate the seasons and different holidays.” He nudged Jack. “There’s a balloon festival in June. We should get one and go up.”
“I’m in,” Jack said easily. “I get to drive.”
“You don’t drive a balloon,” Kenny told him.
“Whatever. I’m in charge.”
“Great,” Taryn said. “So you’re sure to crash or burst into flames. Sam, please make sure our key-man insurance policy is paid up.”
Jack gave her a lazy smile. “You’d miss me, darlin’.”
“That I would and then I’d move on with my life.” She turned back to Sam. “About the party,” she said again. “Where are we?”
“In the planning stages.”
She waited but Sam didn’t say any more. “It’s just over three months away. You have to get going.”
“I am.”
This wasn’t like Sam, she thought. Normally he was on top of things. “Do you have any details? You know we have to make sure our clients have a good time, right? And they’re bringing their families, which ups the pressure. You three are the ones who wanted to move here in the first place. You’re the ones who insisted on this party. Don’t come to me a week before and say there’s a problem, because I’m not going to fix this.”
“There she goes,” Kenny said conversationally. “Sam, you’ve riled Taryn, and no good comes of that. Back where I come from—”
Taryn slapped both hands on the conference table. “Do not tell me some good-ol’-boy farm story, Kenneth Anderson Scott. You may want the world to think you’re just some down-home guy from Iowa, but I know better.”
Kenny glanced at his watch. “Look at the time. Larissa should be ready for me now.”
He nearly ran from the room. Jack watched him go.
“That wasn’t nice, Taryn. You know Kenny hates it when you use his whole name. It reminds him of being yelled at by his mom.”
“Yes, and that’s why I do it.” She returned her attention to Sam. “About the party.”
“It’s handled,” he told her.
Exactly what she wanted to hear. So why didn’t she believe him? “You’re sure.”
“Very.”
She nodded and Sam ducked out of the room. Jack stayed in his seat.
“Want to talk about it?” he asked.
“No.”
“You’re a little crabby.”
She pressed her lips together. “It’s not like you guys make it easy.”
He stood and circled around the table until he was next to her. Then he pulled her close and hugged her. She relaxed in his familiar embrace. His large hands rested on her back and she breathed in the scent of him.
When they’d first met, Jack was the star quarterback of the L.A. Stallions and she was the newly hired PR assistant. She’d never expected their night together to lead to anything more. But one night had turned into two, then a week.
When everything fell apart, they’d stayed friends. She loved Kenny and Sam, but Jack was the one who knew her best. A point he proved when he said, “Still not sure you’re going to like it here?”
“It’s different. People are nice.”
“Damn them.”
She smiled into his shoulder, then stepped back. “I’m not like you.”
“That’s true.” His dark eyes crinkled with amusement. “You’d look funny with my penis.”
“I’d have it removed.”
He winced. “Don’t even joke about that.” He kissed her forehead. “We’re going to be here awhile, Taryn. Relax. Make nice with the ladies in town. Go to lunch and give them a chance to prove they mean what they say.”
“They really want me to have a nice day?”
“They do. Let them get to know you while you get to know them. Make friends. It’s fun.”
“Maybe,” she grumbled.
“That’s my girl. Always willing to try new things.” He put his arm around her and led her from the room. “Come on. I’ll buy you some lunch. I’ll order the fries.”
Because if she didn’t order the food, the calories didn’t count, she thought, leaning into him. “You’re the best,” she told him.
“Yeah, I know. My greatness has always been a burden.”
CHAPTER THREE
“THIS CAME FOR YOU.”
Taryn glanced up as Larissa walked into her office. She was carrying what looked like a very exotic orchid. One that Taryn had never seen before.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, reaching for the plant.
Larissa grinned. “There’s a card.”
Taryn touched the soft petals of the flower. The colors were unusual, she thought. Pink and a blue violet. “What does it say?”
“I haven’t read it.”
Taryn put the plant on her desk, then looked at her friend. “Of course you have.”
Larissa laughed. “There’s just a place and a time. It’s for tonight.”
She took the card and studied it. Sure enough, Condor Valley Winery, 7:00 p.m., was written in bold black pen.
An invitation or instructions, she thought, intrigued by the assumption. What if she couldn’t make it?
“Are you going?” Larissa asked.
“I don’t know.”
Larissa sat in the chair next to the desk. “You have to. You said he’s really sexy.”
“I don’t remember saying that.”
“Okay, you thought it. Same thing.” She put a small brochure on the desk. “There are instructions that go with your new plant. Apparently it’s very rare and delicate.”
“You could take it on as a cause,” Taryn told her.
“I could, but you got there first.” She leaned in. “So, what do you know about Angel? Other than he got you a really unusual flower.”
“He’s with the bodyguard school, he’s a former sniper, he was married.”
“That’s right. He’s the widower. Any kids?”
“I don’t know. None in town.”
“Why do you like him?”
“I’m not sure I do.”
Larissa shook her head. “Fine. Why are you interested in him? I think he’s kind of scary.”
Taryn thought about all the easy answers. That he was attractive and sexy. That he’d made the first move. That she was pretty sure there was chemistry. That Jack was right and she needed to put herself out there. Although Jack had been talking about making girlfriends rather than taking a lover, but still.
“He doesn’t need me to take care of him,” she said at last, speaking the absolute truth.
“Unlike the boys.” Larissa nodded. “That makes sense. It’s just I’ve always sort of pictured you with a banker.”
“Another man in a suit? No, thanks. Been there, done that over and over again.”
She didn’t want someone like her. She didn’t want someone from her world. Angel was different in every way possible. When he looked at her with those cool gray eyes, she had no idea what he was thinking. That was kind of fun. She just hoped it didn’t mean he was a serial killer.
“I guess it’s okay,” Larissa said slowly. “Everybody in town seems to like him, so he must be a nice guy.”
“Tell me you haven’t been asking about him.”
“Just a little.”
Taryn held in a groan at the thought of her personal life being discussed.
“I was discreet,” Larissa protested.
“Uh-huh. Is there anyone you won’t talk to?”
“No, and that’s why you love me.”
* * *
TARYN LEFT WORK early so she would have time to get ready for her date with Angel. She drove the short distance to her house and parked in the single-car garage.
Usually she preferred condo living—less maintenance for her—but when the company had relocated to Fool’s Gold, she’d decided to try a house.
The place was small—only two bedrooms, but they were both a nice size. The house had been remodeled pretty much from the ground up, so she had a new kitchen and a nice walk-in shower in the bathroom. Surprisingly, the feature that most appealed to her was the garden. An old-fashioned stone fence surrounded the backyard. There was a patio and several raised plant beds. She’d never grown anything before in her life, but she’d started doing some research and was thinking of planting some flowers and a few vegetables.
Now Taryn walked through the kitchen. She kicked off her heels and walked barefoot down the hallway and into the master. Although the house had been updated, most of the Craftsman touches had been left in place, including the built-in bookcase by the stone fireplace across from her bed. The fence out back was high enough that she didn’t have to pull her drapes for privacy, which allowed a lot of light into the room. She shrugged out of her jacket, then unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the carpet. She removed her blouse, then put on a robe and walked into the bathroom.
She wore her black hair long and loose. Minimal daily products, plenty of conditioner and weekly scalp treatments kept her hair in decent shape. She’d been pleasantly surprised to discover that she could get her favorite hair gloss applied every six weeks here, just as she had done back in L.A.
She pulled her hair back in a cloth headband and washed her face. Then she reapplied her makeup, paying close attention to her eyes. She was going to be wearing black, so she wanted to emphasize her eye shape and color. When she was done with that, she applied a faint shimmering body lotion to her chest, shoulders, arms and legs.
After penciling in a nearly nude lip color, she returned to her bedroom and stepped into the closet. She already knew what she was going to wear—she’d made her decision as soon as she’d seen the invitation. If Angel wanted to play games, she was willing to play them with him. But she was equally determined that she would be the winner.
To that end, she removed her bra and then stepped into the strapless black dress she’d chosen. From the front, it was simple—fitted and nearly to the knee. But in the back it dipped to hip level. Every time she moved, the fabric shifted as if the viewer were going to see something he shouldn’t. A killer dress, she thought with a smile. Perfect for a former sniper.
The best part was she would pair the dress with a classic black blazer. With the jacket, the outfit was conservative enough for work. But without...
She studied her shoes and chose a pair of Dolce & Gabbana lace pumps with four-inch heels. She wasn’t usually a lace-and-bow kind of woman, but these were both sexy and sophisticated. Of course they were D&G, so it wasn’t as though she could actually go wrong.
She stepped into the shoes and then studied herself in the mirror. Jewelry should be simple, she thought, and went with diamond studs that Jack had given her when their divorce was final.
She transferred the items she would need for that night to a black silk clutch, then headed out the door.
Condor Valley Winery was set in the foothills, just above the vineyards. Although the sign in the parking lot said they closed at five this time of year, she parked by the main doors and walked up the paved path. She had no doubt that Angel would have made special arrangements. He was a man used to getting his way and he wouldn’t let a little thing like regular business hours deter him.
Sure enough a woman in her earlier twenties was waiting inside. She smiled. “Ms. Crawford?”
“Yes.”
“If you’ll follow me, please.”
The woman led Taryn to a small elevator that whisked them to the third floor. From there they went into what looked like a private library—a room filled with built-in bookcases and comfortable, black leather furniture. Double doors stood open and led to a large balcony with a bistro table and two chairs. From where she stood, Taryn could see the whole valley and the sun just beginning to set. Any chill was chased away by the portable heaters set up around the table.
“Let me get your appetizers,” the woman said, and excused herself.
A minute or so later she was back with two plates of small bites. Once she placed them on the table, she returned to the library and collected a bottle of red wine and two glasses. She expertly opened the wine but didn’t pour, then smiled at Taryn and left.
Taryn stepped out onto the balcony and breathed in the night air. Anticipation settled low in her belly, but there was also a kind of quiet comfort. It had been a long time since a man had taken care of her this way. Or maybe the fault was hers—maybe it had been too long since she’d let someone take care of her.
“Good evening.”
She turned and saw Angel standing in the doorway. He looked tall and broad—imposing in a black shirt and black pants.
“Hello,” she said, staying where she was, wanting him to come to her.
He didn’t disappoint. He closed the space between them and took her hands in his. “You came.”
“You’re not surprised.”
One eyebrow rose. “Maybe I am.”
She laughed. “I doubt that. Thank you for my orchid. It’s very beautiful.”
“It reminded me of you.”
His hands were warm, his grip gentle. He didn’t try to pull her close or make her feel as if he wouldn’t let go. A clever strategy because she found herself wanting to step nearer.
In her four-inch heels, she was nearly his height, so contortions would not be required if they were to kiss. She could just ease forward and find out if the faint heat sweeping through her was all about possibilities or if there was reality to the quivering.
Or not, she thought as she carefully took a single step back.
He released her instantly, then gestured to the chairs by the table. “Shall we?”
When they were seated, Angel poured them each a glass of wine. “This Cab is from their library collection. Aged longer than most of the wine they sell. It’s smooth, with a surprising finish.”
She hung her bag over the handle of her chair, then reached for the glass. “Why do I get the idea you’re talking about more than the wine? Although I’m not comfortable being described as aged.”
“Maybe I wasn’t talking about you,” he said, his gray eyes settling on her face.
“Yourself, then.” She tilted her head. “Yes, I can see that. Although I have some concerns about the surprising finish. What does that mean? A little squeak? A fist pump? Should I be worried?”
He chuckled, then touched his glass to hers. “Thank you for joining me tonight.”
“Thank you for asking me.”
She took a sip. The Cab was smooth, but there was still a hint of tannins at the end. Plenty of berry flavor, without it being overpowering.
“Why did you come to Fool’s Gold?” she asked.
“Justice moved the company here.”
“Was that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“I like small towns. I grew up in one.” He turned his attention to the view. “You’re not from a small town.”
A statement or a question, she wondered. “No, I’m an L.A. girl at heart. Moving to Fool’s Gold has been a transition.”
“Then why not keep the company in la-la land?”
“I was outvoted. Jack, Kenny and Sam came here for a Pro-Am golf tournament. I’m still not clear on what happened that weekend, but when they returned to work on the following Monday, they announced we were moving.” She sipped her wine again. “Score is a democracy and I was in the minority. Of course they left all the details of moving up to me.”
“Naturally.”
“Where did you grow up?”
“West Virginia.” He glanced at her and smiled. “A place you’ve never heard of. Coal mining town.”
“I’ve never been in one,” she admitted.
“There’s good and bad. A lot of poverty with one large employer. The work is hard. My mom died when I was born, so it was my dad and me. I watched him come out of that coal mine day after day and swore I was going to get out.”
“Which you did.”
“I went into the military. When I left, I got involved with a security company doing about the same kind of work without so many rules.”
She wasn’t sure what that meant. Black ops stuff? Which, like the coal mining town, was more concept than reality to her.
“I’m sorry about your mom,” she said.
“Thanks. I never knew her.” His mouth curved up again. “The women on our block decided they were going to take her place. They were always looking out for me. It was like having twelve moms instead of one. Let me tell you, it was tough to be bad.”
She laughed. “Which you wanted to be.”
His gaze locked with hers. “Nearly all the time. But I learned patience. There were still opportunities, but I had to work for them.”
A message? She held in a shiver and reminded herself he was good. Better than she was used to.
“What about you?” he asked. “Suburbs? Two-point-four siblings and a white picket fence?”
An easy question for most, she thought, the need to shiver fading as if it had never happened. Tension crept through her, but she ignored the tightening in her shoulders as she tried to calculate how much to tell. And how to tell it such that he didn’t know she was lying.
“It was my dad and me, just like you,” she said, confident their situations couldn’t have been more different. “My mom left when I was young.”
“That’s rough.”
She shrugged because the truth—that her mother had walked away from her only child, as well as her husband—was bad enough. Worse was the fact that the man had regularly beaten them both and with his wife gone, he’d only had one place to turn.
“It was L.A.,” she said lightly. “I had distractions. And now we’re both here. The people are very welcoming, if a little too involved in each other’s lives.”
“The disadvantage of a small town. There aren’t a lot of secrets.”
She relaxed as he accepted the change in topic. Every new relationship had to navigate through that rocky space. The exchange of past information. It was done and they would move on.
“How does that work for you?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re a man of secrets.”
He laughed. “Less than you would think. I go to work, hang out with my friends.” Humor warmed his eyes. “I do live with a woman.”
“So I’ve heard. Consuelo Ly. She’s engaged.”
“Damn. And here I thought I was going to rile you.”
“It’s a little early to play the jealousy card. Besides, you don’t cheat.” She took a sip of her wine and wished they were sitting closer. The evening would be more interesting without this table between them.
“How do you know that?”
“Am I wrong?”
“No.”
She leaned closer. “You’re not the type. In my book, with cheating comes shame. You wouldn’t allow that emotion.” She smiled. “My business partners are guys. We spend a lot of time with each other. Let’s just say whatever I didn’t know about your gender before we went into business I’ve since learned.”
“Okay,” he said slowly. “You’re right. I don’t cheat.”
“How long were you married?” Because she’d heard that he had been. Not that it was easy getting information on Angel without admitting her interest. Something she hadn’t been willing to do.
“Sixteen years.”
Okay, that was unexpected. “A long time,” she admitted. “What happened?”
“She died. A car accident.”
Five simple words spoken in a matter-of-fact tone. But Taryn heard the pain behind the sentences. Felt the wound as if it had been inflicted on her.
“I’m sorry,” she said automatically, even as she knew the phrase was ridiculous and unhelpful. “How long has it been?”
“Six years.”
The way he spoke the words told her there was still emotion there. Still caring. She liked that he hadn’t banished his wife to some back part of his memory.
“What about you?” he asked.
“I was married once. Briefly. To Jack.”
One eyebrow rose. “Your business partner Jack?”
She nodded. “I left home after high school.” A lie, but one she always told. No one had to know she’d run away at sixteen and lived on the streets. It had been tough and scary, and she’d made it through.
“After a year or two of dead-end jobs, I realized if I wanted to make something of myself, I needed to get an education. I worked my way through college and graduated when I was twenty-six.”
With a ton of debt and a sense of pride she’d never experienced before.
“Good for you.”
“Thanks.” She glanced out at the horizon, watching the last of the light fade in the west. Stars had already appeared overhead. The air was cooler, but with the heaters, she stayed warm.
“I was lucky,” she continued. “I got a PR job with the L.A. Stallions. I was broke and living in my car, but it was a chance to use my degree.”
“Marketing?” he said with a laugh. “You studied marketing.”
“I know. Not practical. I kept trying to talk myself into accounting. A solid and stable career. But I loved the creative side of business and I figured I might as well go for it. I waitressed at an all-night diner, went to class, studied and slept about four hours a night. When I got an internship, it was worse, but I didn’t care. I knew what I wanted.”
She’d thrown herself into her goals and told herself she would get a chance to sleep when she was thirty.
“My third day with the Stallions, Jack caught me eating the leftovers from some catered lunch they’d had.” She’d been wrapping sandwiches meant for the garbage in napkins with the idea that they could easily be her meals for the next couple of days.
“He took pity on me and invited me out to dinner.” She turned to Angel. “Dinner turned into breakfast. A few days later, I moved in with him.”
She waited for the inevitable “Did you love him?” Because the few people who knew the story always asked that. She hadn’t known Jack well enough to be sure how much she even liked him, but she’d been homeless and hungry and he was a good guy.
“He was a way out,” Angel said quietly, surprising her with his insight. “Better than living in your car.”
“He’s a great guy. I know that now. But at the time...” She shrugged. “Yeah, it was better than living in my car.” She paused. “Jack has a kind streak. Once he accepts you, you’re in for life. He accepted me. Over the next couple of months, I discovered I really did like him a lot. Then I turned up pregnant.”
She drew in a breath, hating how stupid that phrase always made her feel. She’d been careful, but not careful enough. When she’d realized what had happened, she’d been afraid he would think she was trying to trap him.
“So you got married.”
“That weekend. We flew to Las Vegas. I tried to talk him out of it. No.” She shook her head. “Actually I didn’t. Not very hard. Part of me wanted to let him take care of me.” Because no one ever had.
She was aware of talking too much, of saying too much, but somehow the words kept on coming.
“Two weeks later, I lost the baby.”
It had happened so fast. She hadn’t even absorbed the fact that there was a child and then it was gone. She’d gone to see her doctor, who’d confirmed the miscarriage.
“I filed for a divorce the next day,” she continued. “Without a baby, there was no reason for us to stay together and I didn’t want to take advantage of Jack. Only the Stallions didn’t see it that way. All they knew was that their star quarterback was getting a divorce and that having his ex-wife around might make him uncomfortable, so I was fired.”
“Hell of a week,” Angel murmured.
And not her worst one, she thought. “Jack, being Jack, tried to talk them out of it. When that didn’t work, he came to me and offered to be a silent partner in a new PR firm. I agreed and Score was born. A few years later, he brought Sam and Kenny on board and we’ve been together ever since.”
They’d turned a business partnership into a family. No matter what, she and Jack would be there for each other. He hadn’t been the great love of her life, but she cared for him more than she’d ever cared about anyone. No matter what, she would be there for Jack and he would there for her. In a way, that was better than romance, because she could depend on it.
Angel smiled at her. “You win. I can’t top that story.”
“You could tell me about the guy who slit your throat.”
“He had a bad week, too. Enough on that. So what’s your favorite business in town?”
He was changing the subject—something she was happy to have happen. She’d already said too much and couldn’t figure out why. It certainly couldn’t be the wine. She was on her first glass.
“I can’t pick,” she admitted. “I like them all. Favorite season?”
“Summer.”
“Girls in bikinis?”
“I like running when it’s warm.”
“Running as in exercising outdoors on purpose?”
He chuckled. “That would be it, yes.”
“My idea of hell.”
“You work out in a gym.”
“How do you know I work out at all?”
His gaze traveled over her body. “I’m not going to bother answering that.”
“I do yoga, too,” she murmured.
He chuckled. “Lucky me. Favorite James Bond actor?”
“Pierce Brosnan. James Bond movies should come with a wink. The new guy is too serious. I miss all the gadgets.” She looked at him. “You, however, are old-school. Your favorite is Sean Connery.”
* * *
“HE IS,” ANGEL admitted, watching the last rays of sun play across Taryn’s face. For a second they flashed on her sculpted cheekbones and then the sun slipped below the horizon.
Lights had already come on around them, but even with them, she was mostly in shadow. Her pale skin gleamed while her dark eyes stayed mysterious.
He held in a chuckle, knowing he was acting like a sixteen-year-old on his first date with the prom queen. Horny and out of his league.
“I’m very much old-school,” he said as she rose.
Before he could figure out what she was doing, she slipped off her jacket and hung it over the back of the chair. Whatever he’d been going to say next was lost when he took in her bare back and how the dress dipped low to her hips.
Her skin was smooth, her waist narrow. She settled back in the chair and angled toward him. What had been a tailored dress that hugged her curves had suddenly become so much more than that. His mouth went dry. Hunger boiled and sent blood flooding his groin.
“You’re probably the kind of person who enjoys books rather than an e-reader,” she said, picking up her wine again.
“I like how they feel in my hands,” he said without thinking, his gaze still on her. “The smell of the paper. It’s a tactile experience.” He raised his gaze to hers. “Nicely played.”
“Thank you.” She gave him a measured look. “I like that you don’t assume I’m easy.”
“Any man who does that is a fool.”
“The world is a foolish place.”
“When was the last time you let a man take care of you?”
She paused and something flashed in her eyes. A memory, he would guess. But good or bad? He couldn’t say.
“It’s been a while. I don’t trust easily. Just like you don’t give up control.”
“I can.”
“When was the last time? Nineteen ninety-eight?”
She was teasing. The real answer was 1992. With Marie. But he wasn’t going to talk about that.
He rose and walked around the table, then gently drew Taryn to her feet. He liked that they were nearly the same height.
“Love the shoes,” he murmured. “Ridiculous but effective.”
He put his hands on her shoulders, then lightly drew them down her arms. Every part of her appealed to him. His dick was more than willing, but the rest of him said it would be so much better to wait. Besides, he’d promised. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he had a feeling not many men had kept their promises to Taryn. He wanted to make sure he kept his.
She raised her chin, as if challenging him. He studied her mouth, the perfect shape, the lower lip slightly fuller than the top. He wanted to know how they would fit together when they kissed. How she would taste. He wanted to feel the steady pressure of need building until he had no choice but to guide them toward the inevitable end.
But not tonight.
He stepped to the side and picked up her jacket, then helped her into it. “It’s late. Let me walk you to your car.”
CHAPTER FOUR
NOTHING HAD HAPPENED. NOTHING!
The next morning Taryn was still doing her best to grasp that reality. She couldn’t decide if Angel deserved extra kudos for leaving her standing there by her car without even a good-night kiss or if she should attack him with one of her high heels the next time she saw him. Yes, he’d told her he was good at waiting, but she hadn’t expected him to be that good, damn him.
After a restless night, she was forced to use the heavy-duty concealer on the dark circles under her eyes, and it was all his fault. She’d tried to come up with all the things she should have said to him, along with imagining ignoring him when he tried to approach her later. Only she didn’t want to ignore him, and even if she did, acting that way gave him too much power. She didn’t want him thinking he got to her, although he did. Dating guys who were afraid of her was much, much simpler. Although she had to admit despite the lack of sleep, this was way more fun.
She dressed and drove to the office, where her exotic orchid was waiting for her on her desk. She checked the moisture level of the soil, as per the instructions, then turned on her computer and prepared to meet her day. While she waited for her computer to boot up, she checked her voice mail on her work phone. Nothing. And she’d already checked her cell that morning. Twice. The man hadn’t called. He hadn’t kissed her and now he wasn’t phoning. She and Angel were going to have to have a serious conversation about the rules. He was supposed to try and she was supposed to say no. Everybody knew that. His ass-backward plan was really starting to get on her nerves.
Which was probably his strategy all along.
* * *
“I DON’T WANT to,” Larissa said, a distinct whine in her voice.
“Do I look as if I care?” Taryn asked as she parked in front of Jo’s Bar. One of the advantages of Fool’s Gold during the workweek was that nearly everyone walked everywhere. So there was always convenient parking.
In theory the restaurant was only about a quarter mile from the Score offices, but in her shoes, it might as well be fifty. Four-inch heels looked amazing but they were a bitch to walk in.
Today she was wearing black-lacquered Gucci pumps with three skinny straps across the top of her foot. Technically they had a five-inch heel, but there was a one-inch platform. They were elegant and simple, not to mention the perfect complement to her Roberto Cavalli reptile-print silk blazer. Underneath she had on a plain sheath dress.
Taryn loved clothes—probably because, until she was thirty, she’d never been able to afford anything that wasn’t secondhand. Now she was making up for lost time. And she didn’t care if everyone dressed casually in town. She didn’t and people would have to get used to that.
Larissa continued to sit in the car. “I’m scared,” she admitted. “What if no one likes me?”
Taryn angled toward her friend. “You know you’re being silly,” she said gently. “Everyone is going to love you. You’re sweet and funny and a loyal friend. What’s not to like?”
Instead of relaxing, Larissa glared at her. “You’re being nice. What’s wrong? Am I dying and don’t know it?”
Taryn sighed. “You’re not dying. I’m being supportive. I can be supportive.”
“I know. It’s not you. I really like this place and I want to fit in.”
“You fit in way more than me, and I’ve made friends.”
Larissa brightened at the thought. “You’re right. I’m much nicer than you, too. Okay, let’s go.”
Taryn collected her Prada bag. “Just give me a second to bask in the warmth of your friendship,” she muttered, then climbed out of her car.
When they were both on the sidewalk, Larissa glanced down at her jeans. She’d put a navy blazer over her pink T-shirt. Her blond hair was pulled back in its usual ponytail. “Am I dressed okay? You always look really nice.”
“No one dresses up in this town except for me,” Taryn assured her. “And the mayor, who is in her sixties. Besides, we’re having lunch in a bar.”
“I see. What’s up with that? You don’t like bars.”
“That’s because it took me two years to break the boys of the habit of having staff meetings in bars.” Taryn gave Larissa a little push toward the door. “You’ll see. This is different.”
Taryn had resisted the first time she was invited to lunch at Jo’s Bar. She hadn’t understood why the women in town wouldn’t want to go to a nice café or tea shop. But once she’d gone into the place, she understood the appeal.
She and Larissa walked into the open space and came to a stop while Larissa looked around. Taryn was already familiar with the mauve walls, flattering light and muted TVs turned to the Style network and HGTV.
There were tables along with booths, a list of specials on a chalkboard and quiet music playing in the background.
Larissa grinned. “Nice. Where do the guys hang out?”
“They have a room in the back. I’ve heard that at night this is more of a couples place, but during the day, the ladies rule.”
She spotted Dellina, Isabel and Noelle sitting at a round table. “Over there,” Taryn said, leading the way.
“Are they smiling?”
Taryn rolled her eyes. “You’re a freak, you know that.”
“Yeah, that’s hardly news.”
“Hi, all,” Taryn said as she approached the table. “This is my friend Larissa. She works for Score. She’s Jack’s personal assistant and the boys’ masseuse. While she’s a wonderful person, don’t agree to help her with any projects. Larissa was born to rescue the world. Seriously, if you let her, she’ll talk you into helping her save some endangered leaf or raid an elementary school to help with a hamster rescue.”
“I would never rescue hamsters from schoolkids,” Larissa told her. “I trust them to care for their pets.”
“So you say now.” Taryn pointed to the table. “Dellina is an event planner. Noelle owns The Christmas Attic, an adorable store on Fourth Street. Everything Christmas, of course, but also seasonal gifty things. Shop there for your mother. Trust me, she’ll love whatever you buy from Noelle. Isabel owns Paper Moon. It used to be a bridal gown shop. Now she also sells yummy clothes and I’m spending way too much money there.”
All three women greeted Taryn and Larissa. Isabel pulled out the seat next to her.
“Taryn, your new suit is back from the tailor,” Isabel told her. “Whenever you want to pick it up.”
“Thanks.” She settled in, then watched as Larissa sat across from her between Noelle and Dellina.
Last fall, when she’d first visited Fool’s Gold, she was convinced she would hate living there. Nothing about a small town appealed to her. But now she had to admit, the place had grown on her. She’d made friends and settled into the comfortable rhythm of a life defined by which festival was next.
She’d always thought she preferred Los Angeles, where she could go about her business unnoticed. In Fool’s Gold, there were no secrets. Which meant if something bad happened, someone would be there to get her through. While the realization was a little strange, it was also comforting.
“You need a redhead,” Jo said, coming up to the table with menus.
Dellina leaned close to Taryn. “She’s right. It’s you and me against those three blondes.”
“We can take them,” Taryn told her confidently, then introduced Larissa to the owner of Jo’s Bar.
After Jo explained about the specials, she took their drink orders and left.
Noelle put down her menu. “Okay,” she said, smiling at Larissa. “We want to know your life story. We’ll share ours, too. I’ll go first. I moved here last year. I was a lawyer, which turned out to not be my thing. Now I run The Christmas Attic, like Taryn said. I’m married to Gabriel, who is a doctor here in town.” She pointed at Dellina.
Dellina drew in a breath. “Me, huh? I’m the oldest in my family. I have younger twin sisters. One of my sisters is a chef. The other has a small business in town. A temp agency. As Taryn said, I plan events. There’s no guy and while I wouldn’t say no to a long weekend of hot sex, I have no interest in a relationship. I’ve already raised my two kids.” At Taryn’s questioning look, she continued. “We lost our folks when I was in high school.”
“I’m sorry about your parents,” Taryn said. “I hadn’t heard that.”
“It was a while ago.”
“But still.” Taryn knew what it was like to be on her own. “I work at Score, where I plan advertising campaigns and try to control my business partners, who are annoying.”
“But you love them,” Larissa said.
“I do.” She held up both hands. “As brothers, I swear. Although I was married to Jack, briefly. Years ago.”
Dellina, Isabel and Noelle all stared at her.
“What?” she asked. “It was a couple of months and it didn’t work out. We stayed friends and now we work together.”
“Did you know this?” Isabel asked Larissa.
“Sure. They’re good friends. It’s nice that they still like each other.”
“You get more interesting by the day,” Isabel murmured. “Okay, me. I was born and raised in town. When I was fourteen, I had a mad crush on my sister’s boyfriend. When they broke up, I was thrilled, only he left town to join the navy and I knew I was going to die. When that didn’t happen, I started writing him. Flash-forward fourteen years, I came back, he came back and the rest is history.” She sighed happily. “Now we’re married and I can’t believe how lucky I am.”
Larissa glanced at them. “I guess that leaves me. I’m one of three girls, also the oldest. I like my job a lot because it gives me the time and resources to focus on helping others. Through Jack, I’ve gotten involved in organ donor programs and I also work with different animal rescue organizations.”
“She’s a saint,” Taryn said. “I tell myself my genuine affection for her will offset any bad karma I might create on my own.”
Isabel turned to Larissa and grinned. “So, you’re a masseuse to the football players. What’s that like?”
Taryn leaned back in her chair. She’d seen this before. Women were obsessed with the boys. Not only were they actually larger than life, but there was the whole sports hero thing going on. Add to that the fact that they were good-looking and well-off... Attention was inevitable. The only question no one seemed to ask was why were they all single.
Taryn knew the answer for each of them, and she wasn’t going to say a word. She loved her boys and she would keep their secrets.
Noelle sighed. “Really? Touching them like that.”
“Need I remind both of you, you’re happily married?” Taryn asked.
“I’m not interested that way,” Isabel told her with an unrepentant grin. “Just curious. Ford’s a former SEAL. I know about guys who work out regularly. Speaking as the woman who sleeps with him, I think being with him is very nice. But this is a whole different level of muscles.”
“Exactly,” Noelle said. “Our curiosity is purely intellectual.”
Larissa laughed. “Sure it is.” She thought for a second. “I don’t know what to say. They were all professional athletes. They did things their bodies are not designed to do. They were all successful and they all pushed too hard and now there are injuries. I try to make them feel better.”
Noelle sighed. “That’s so sweet. Are they naked?”
Taryn grinned. “And here we are, to the real question.” She looked at her new friends. “Yes, they are naked. They are very comfortable being naked. I can’t tell you how many meetings we’ve had in the company locker room, or worse, the steam room.”
She paused as three pairs of eyes widened. “I stay clothed,” she added.
“That would be weird,” Isabel admitted.
“You get used to it,” Taryn told her.
Noelle looked at Larissa. “Yeah, for you, it’s no big deal. You’re a professional.”
Larissa shook her head. “I’m not licensed, if that’s what you mean. I took the classes, but I never bothered with the exam. I don’t work with the public. I work on Sam, Kenny and Jack and sometimes Taryn.”
Jo appeared with their drinks. When she left, Taryn reached for her iced tea. “I notice no one wants to talk about the thrill of seeing me naked.”
“I’m sure you look great,” Noelle said absently as she continued to talk to Larissa. “Is it weird to see them that way, then around the office?”
Isabel rolled her eyes. “Let’s cut to the real question. Who has slept with whom?”
Dellina choked on her drink. “That’s direct,” she murmured when she could speak.
Noelle looked at her. “A genuine ‘it went down the wrong way’ or are you keeping secrets?”
Dellina held up a hand. “It went down the wrong way. Although the body talk is fun.”
Taryn was less sure. The great bodies were nice, but in her opinion it was what a man could do with that body that was more appealing.
“They’re sweet guys,” Larissa told her. “But we’re like a family. We don’t get involved like that. The guys are always bringing around girls.”
“Not Sam,” Taryn said.
Larissa nodded. “That’s right. Sam is more careful. Of course he has the worst luck with women.”
Dellina, who had just taken another sip of her soda, started coughing again. “Allergies,” she managed, when she could talk. “What are you talking about? What worst luck?”
Larissa sighed. “It’s kind of sad, when you think about it.”
“And funny,” Taryn added.
“Okay, funny. But not in a mean way.” Larissa drew a breath. “Sam seems to find the one woman in the room who’s going to be a disaster. His ex-wife wrote a tell-all about their marriage.”
Noelle winced. “Seriously?”
“Uh-huh. There have been stalkers and, oh, do you remember the girl who pretended to be pregnant?”
Taryn nodded.
“I feel bad for him,” Larissa admitted. “He’s a great guy, but he’s been burned a bunch of times. Now he refuses to get involved at all. His family doesn’t help.”
“They’re not into boundaries,” Taryn said simply, thinking it was time to change the subject. “So, what’s new in town? Any hot gossip?”
Jo appeared with chips and salsa, along with a bowl of guacamole. “On the house,” she said with a smile. “Because of the new girl.”
Larissa blinked at her. “Thank you. That’s so nice.”
“Yeah, I’m a nice person. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
Taryn eyed the chips and felt her stomach growl. Fine. She would add fifteen minutes to her workout that afternoon. Fifteen ugly minutes of gross sweating would be worth it if she could indulge a little.
“Gossip,” Isabel said as she grabbed a chip. “Mayor Marsha’s assistant is leaving, so she’ll be hiring a new one. That is going to be so weird. Marjorie has worked for the mayor for years. Since maybe high school or something.”
“I wonder who the new assistant will be,” Dellina said, then chuckled. “I’ll tell Fayrene. She’s the sister with the temp agency. I’m sure she’ll offer to fill in during the interview process.”
“I need her number,” Taryn said. “We sometimes need help with big projects at Score.”
“I have a card right here,” Dellina told her, and reached into her bag.
“Mayor Marsha is going on vacation,” Noelle said, scooping up guacamole. “She was in the other day and bought a couple of things for—”
Both Isabel and Dellina stared at her.
“What?” Noelle asked, visibly shrinking in her seat. “What did I say?”
“The mayor’s going on vacation?” Dellina demanded.
“She never goes on vacation,” Isabel added. “I mean never.”
Taryn didn’t get the problem. “Isn’t she allowed? From what I’ve seen, she works pretty hard for the town. Going away might do her good.”
Dellina and Isabel exchanged a look. “Maybe,” Isabel admitted. “But it’s weird. Like she might never come back.”
Larissa looked as confused as Taryn felt. “Does she have a husband?”
“She’s a widow.”
Taryn reached for another chip. “Maybe she has a mysterious, handsome man she travels with,” she teased.
Isabel’s eyes widened. “Mayor Marsha with a secret lover?”
Noelle shook her head. “Okay, I’m kind of with you on that one. While I want her to be happy, it’s kind of strange to think about.”
“We should all be so lucky when we’re her age,” Taryn said firmly. “I vote for the secret lover story. The mayor has earned it.”
“Troublemaker,” Dellina grumbled.
“You know it.”
* * *
TARYN WAS NAKED. Angel stared at her and felt the breath leave his body. Good thing because that made room for more hot blood to fill his groin. She was tall and leggy and totally naked, with her long hair covering her breasts and hard nipples playing peekaboo with him. And speaking of hard—
“Get up.”
“I am up,” he mumbled only to realize the slightly crabby voice wasn’t coming from the vision in front of him but was instead at the periphery of his consciousness. Nor was the voice in question talking about up in the sense that he meant it.
He sat up instantly. But even in his newly awake state, he had the sense to make sure the sheets were covering his now painful erection.
Consuelo stood in the doorway of his bedroom. The hall light was on and she was already dressed. He glanced at the clock and saw it was a few minutes to six.
“Why are you awake so early?” he asked.
“We have to be somewhere.”
“Where?”
“A basketball game. At Score. It’s the PR agency with the football—”
“I know what it is,” he said, willing his penis to calm down. There was no way he could stand with Consuelo in the room. She wasn’t the type to pretend to ignore it, and he didn’t want to take the ribbing.
“You’re crabby,” she told him. “We’re leaving in five minutes. Be ready.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
He waited until she walked out of the room and closed the door before standing. He pulled on sweats and a T-shirt and then got socks and athletic shoes. Five minutes later, he was presentable in all ways possible and headed out the door.
It was still dark outside, but first rays of light were visible over the mountains. Consuelo stood by her truck, her keys dangling from her fingers. He noticed she’d removed her engagement ring.
“Hey,” he said, pausing by the passenger door. “You two set the date yet?”
“Do you want me to start the day by killing you? Because I can.”
Her tough talk didn’t bother him. He knew the cause. He grabbed her around the shoulders, then twisted her until he had her in a headlock. He wasn’t trying that hard and she could have broken free at any second, but she didn’t. Instead she leaned into him.
“Don’t be scared,” he said quickly. “Kent’s lucky to have you.”
Consuelo shrugged free of his hold and stared at him. “What if I don’t know how to be what he wants?”
“Dollface, you’re his fantasy.”
“Fantasies change.”
“He’s not going to change his mind. He loves you.”
Under any other circumstances he would have added something like “God knows why.” But she was vulnerable and he wouldn’t tease her when she was down.
“Yeah,” she said, not sounding convinced. “I guess.”
He pulled her close. She stepped into his embrace. He rested his chin on the top of her head. “Look at it this way. If he does change his mind, you can kill him and I’ll help you hide the body.”
She chuckled. “Deal.”
They drove to Score. On the way, Angel briefly wondered if he would see Taryn, only to realize she wasn’t exactly the organized sports type. He’d seen enough of her to know that she had to work out, but in a clean, civilized way. An elliptical, he would guess. Maybe some free weights. Probably pink and with a designer label.
The image made him smile. Yeah, that was Taryn. Not fussy, he thought. Perfect. What he would give to see her with a little mud on her cheeks. Or naked. Naked worked for him.
They pulled up in front of the offices, then Consuelo made a U-turn. Angel saw the full-sized basketball court and the guys waiting.
Ford and Justice were his business partners. He’d met Jack and Kenny around town and knew Sam by sight. Also joining the game were Ryan Patterson, a local engineer, Raoul Moreno and Josh Golden. Which meant they had a full team.
“Hey,” he said as he and Consuelo walked onto the court.
They greeted each other and shook hands. He half expected a comment about the girl, but her reputation seemed to have preceded her.
Jack stepped into the middle of the group. “Let’s divide up into teams and see who gets their asses handed to them. Sam?”
Sam stepped forward with a cloth bag in his hand. “We’ll draw chips. Consuelo’s team is shirts.”
Kenny grinned. “Am I the only one who wanted her on skins?”
Angel prepared to get between them, knowing Consuelo was more than capable of doing permanent damage to the man. It didn’t matter that Kenny was more than a foot taller and at least a hundred pounds of muscle heavier. She could have him on the ground and screaming in a heartbeat.
But she only raised an eyebrow and murmured, “In your dreams, rookie.”
The guys all laughed, then reached for the bag to pull chips.
Two minutes later, they were sorted into teams. Angel pulled off his shirt and told Kenny, Raoul and Sam to stay clear of Consuelo. “She’ll play to win and she plays dirty.”
Justice, also on their team, nodded. “He’s not kidding. Don’t let her size fool you.”
Jack took a basketball out of a bin on the court and tossed it in the air. “Let’s play ball.”
The game started hard and fast and continued that way. Angel hadn’t played in a couple of years and found the stop-start of the game got his heart rate going. Nearly as fun as a run straight up the mountain, he thought, as he stole the ball from Ford and passed it to Sam, who scored.
The sun rose overhead. While the early morning was still cool, they were all soon sweating and swearing. Good thing the court was in a more industrial part of town, Angel thought humorously as Jack let loose a string of curse words that had Consuelo wagging her finger at him.
“You kiss your mama with that mouth?” she asked.
“Funny.” He tossed her the ball.
Angel turned, prepared to go after him. Just then Kenny gave a wolf whistle, then yelled, “Looking good, Taryn.”
Even as he told himself to focus on the game, he couldn’t help looking. Taryn was across the street, walking from the parking lot to the Score building. She wore a pale blue suit that hugged her body the way he wanted to. Her legs were long and bare, and she had on yet another pair of ridiculously high heels. These were beige with a white heel and screamed Come fuck me. How was he supposed to resist that?
Her hair hung down her back. She had a purse dangling off her forearm and a briefcase in her other hand. Keys jingled. She looked powerful, sexy and—
Something hard banged into the side of his head. He turned and saw Ford grinning at him as the basketball bounced away.
“Sorry, man,” Ford said, obviously not the least bit sorry. “I thought you were paying attention.”
Angel gave him the finger, then went after the ball. When he next looked across the street, Taryn was gone and the day seemed just a little less bright.
CHAPTER FIVE
TARYN GLANCED UP at the screen on the wall, then frowned. Normally she had one of her staff work on her PowerPoint slides, but she hadn’t been happy with this presentation from the beginning and was determined to get it right. After three tries from the graphic folks, she was tweaking it herself. What she didn’t understand was how what looked perfectly fine on her computer suddenly seemed to have less pop on the giant wall screen. Of course if it was a size issue, she should ask one of the boys, she thought with a grin. As men, they would be more sensitive to the topic.
“What’s so funny?”
She looked up and saw Sam had walked into the conference room. “Trying to get a presentation right,” she told him.
He glanced at the chart on the wall. “I fail to see the humor.”
She pressed her lips together rather than tease him by saying he usually did. In truth Sam had a good sense of humor. But right now he was frowning his “something isn’t right” frown.
“What’s up?” she asked as she rose and walked toward him.
He glanced down at her bare feet. “Why do you wear those shoes if they’re so uncomfortable?”
Because once again she’d kicked off her heels as soon as she’d gotten to her office. “They have a six-inch heel. Even with a one-and-a-half-inch platform, they’re hardly something I can wear all day.”
“Then why buy them?”
She rested her palm against the side of his face. “Did you see them? They’re works of art. Prada bicolor peep-toe pumps. They’re suede. Somewhere right now a poem is being written to those shoes.”
“But you can’t walk in them.”
“You can’t have sex with Miss April, but that doesn’t stop you from buying Playboy.”
Sam took her hand in his and lightly kissed her palm. “I haven’t bought Playboy since I was nineteen. You’re a very strange woman and I don’t understand your shoe obsession.”
She smiled. “But that’s not why you want to talk to me.”
“No, it’s not.”
Sam crossed to the glass door of the conference room and looked into the hall. Taryn didn’t think he was watching for anything in particular. Obviously whatever he had to say was difficult for him. With Sam, it could be anything. Jack tended to tell her everything, and Kenny shared the normal amount, but Sam often kept things to himself.
“How was the game this morning?” she asked, both to help him relax and also because there was an off chance he might mention Angel, and she would like that.
She’d been so careful not to stare while walking into the building. But once inside, she’d positioned herself so she could see the game. Angel had played well and the man looked good in shorts and nothing else. It was enough to give a girl ideas.
“Good. Intense. Have you met Consuelo?”
Taryn nodded. “Yes. I know who she is.”
“Plays a hell of a game.” He grinned. “I want her on my team all the time.”
Taryn had a feeling that if Sam asked, Consuelo would say yes, even if she were engaged. As a rule, women liked Sam. He was quiet but intense. Handsome. For those who found big men intimidating or just too bulky, Sam was the perfect combination of lean and muscled.
Taryn knew the basics of his past. How he’d grown up in a close, athletic family. His father had played professional basketball in the late 1970s and early 1980s. Sam’s mother had been an Olympic equestrian. His sisters had excelled at sports, but Sam, the youngest, had been sick as a kid. Sick enough that he never got to do anything.
He hadn’t blossomed until college, when he’d discovered he could kick a football better than nearly anyone else. She’d often wondered if the transition from nerdy to hunky had been difficult. With the sudden availability of all kinds of women had come the issue of trusting them. Something Sam had learned the hard way he couldn’t always do.
Now she studied him before asking, “Are you seeing anyone?”
He glared at her. “What? No. And I’m not talking about it.”
He was nothing if not private, she thought. “Don’t bite my head off. I was just asking. It’s been a while. Unless you were seeing someone and didn’t want us to know.”
“Yeah, because that went so well last time,” he muttered.
He had a point there. In his previous relationship Sam had been determined not to let anyone know he had a woman in his life. Unfortunately he’d kept so quiet, not even Kenny and Jack had known. So when the woman in question had come on to them, they’d seen no reason to refuse her invitation. Individually, of course. It was only later they’d discovered they’d inadvertently slept with their best friend’s girl.
Sam had dumped her as soon as he found out and had accepted his friends’ apologies. But since then, he’d stopped seeing anyone. Taryn understood why but believed Sam needed to get over it. When he wasn’t in a relationship, he could get solitary and moody.
“Everything okay with the business?” she asked.
“Fine. We have a good client base and they mostly pay on time.” He drew in a breath. “About the client party,” he began.
“What? I thought I made my position clear. You three decided to have a big party. I didn’t want to. I’ll be there, I’ll smile and I’ll look pretty, but that’s it.”
Sam held up both hands. “You’ve said that before. I’m saying I need help. It’s a big event to plan. I need some recommendations for someone to help me. And not Dellina.”
“Why not Dellina? She’s great. And suck it up, big guy—she’s the only one in town who’s qualified. Look, Sam, I don’t know what your deal is with her, but she does good work. We have to support the local businesses so we can fit in.”
“Since when do you care about fitting in?”
“Since always. PR is our business. Town support is a big deal. Bringing in someone from outside would be a mistake and you know it.” She put her hands on her hips. “She’s capable—parties like this are exactly what she does. What is your problem with her?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Then uncomplicate it. If you won’t tell me what’s wrong, I can’t help. Which means this is now your problem and you need to solve it.”
His jaw tightened. “This isn’t you at your most supportive.”
“Do I look like I care?”
He surprised her by smiling. “That’s the thing, Taryn. You always care. Unfortunately right now you’re being a pain in my ass.”
“Then my work here is done.”
* * *
ANGEL ARRIVED AT City Hall five minutes before the Grove Keepers’ meeting. He’d meant to do a little research online beforehand—find out about the organization and who was in charge. But a last-minute redo of an obstacle course had kept him busy for the past couple of days. Still, he knew he would pick up what he needed in plenty of time for his first grove meeting.
For a second he hesitated, thinking about what it would be like to work with the boys. Would they remind him of Marcus? Despite the time that had passed, he thought about his son every day. Missed him every day. Sometimes the memories were easy and sometimes they were hard, but they were always there.
Marcus would approve of this, he reminded himself. He’d liked hanging out with his friends.
Angel took the stairs two at a time and headed for the conference room on the second floor. He walked in and found most of the chairs around the long table were already full. Of women.
Angel paused in the doorway as he worked the problem. It made sense that moms would want to get involved with their sons, he thought. They were the traditional caretakers of the family. But shouldn’t there be a few dads in the mix, too?
It wasn’t that he didn’t like women. They were great. His wife had been a woman. But this was different. Teenaged boys needed a male role model.
A woman in her fifties walked up to him and smiled. “Hello, Angel.”
It took him a second to recognize Denise Hendrix—Ford’s mother. He’d had dinner at her house a few times since moving to town last year. She was friendly and well loved by her six children.
“Mrs. Hendrix,” he said. “Nice to see you.”
She shook her head. “Please, don’t call me Mrs. Hendrix. That makes me sound older than I already am. I’m Denise.”
“Sure.” He glanced around the room. “You have an FWM grove?”
“Not exactly. I’m the head of the Grove Council. Thank you so much for volunteering. We’re all very excited to have you aboard. Fresh blood and all that. We were afraid we’d lose you to the Boy Scouts, but we didn’t and we’re thrilled.”
She guided him over to one of the empty chairs and started introducing him to everyone. He nodded and put names with faces, then took his seat.
Even as he settled in his chair, he felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. Something was wrong. Denise’s mention of the Boy Scouts had confused him. Why would there be the FWM to help young men grow up when they could join the Boy Scouts instead? Was Fool’s Gold really big enough to support both organizations? Or had he misunderstood what the mayor had been telling him?
Denise took her place at the head of the table and started passing out thick notebooks. As she placed one in front of him, Angel was painfully aware of the fact that not only was it pink but the lettering across the front proclaimed the motto of the FWM.
Growing Our Girls into Capable Young Women.
He swore silently. Girls? He couldn’t take care of a grove of girls. He’d never had a daughter, and what he knew about women wasn’t exactly helpful to anyone.
Denise walked back to the head of the table and faced the group. “Thank you all for coming today. As you know, Marjorie has run the Grove Council for several years now and has done an excellent job.”
Angel saw Mayor Marsha’s assistant sitting near the front of the table. She waved when her name was mentioned. While she was still obviously upset, she wasn’t currently crying, which Angel appreciated.
“With her moving to Portland, there was an opening on the council,” Denise continued. “All three of my girls were once members of FWM.” She smiled. “Although it was a long time ago, I still remember their excitement as they grew from Acorns to Mighty Oaks. FWM was a positive influence on them in so many ways. So when I was asked to take over Marjorie’s position on the council, I said yes.”
Everyone applauded. Angel joined in. To be honest, it didn’t matter who was in charge. Not when he’d just learned he was going to be responsible for girls. What happened to the teenaged boys? That he could handle.
“Angel, you’re going to be starting with our newest girls,” Denise said with a smile. “You can figure it out together. I think that always works best. While your commitment is year to year, I hope we can count on you to stay with your grove until they, too, are Mighty Oaks.”
All the women in the room were staring at him, nodding and mostly smiling. A few looked doubtful, which made sense. He was doubtful, too. Or screwed. It kind of depended on how he looked at things.
Denise went through the rest of the “growing season.” The other groves had started in September. Only his would have a short season to get them used to the program. She mentioned a few all-grove events, then answered questions.
Angel tuned out the conversation and reached for the notebook. The pink notebook. He flipped it open and scanned the table of contents. There were sections on each level of the FWM along with subheadings.
He read the mission statement, then discovered that the Future Warriors of the Máa-zib marked their progress by earning small wooden beads after studying different areas of life. Some lessons were practical like learning knots and reading maps. Some were related to community. His girls were expected to take on a short-term civic project. There were also beads for family and friendship.

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