An After-Hours Affair

by Barbara Dunlop

  “Well, that would be a first.”

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

  “Not me, specifically,” she admitted.

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

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

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

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

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

  “And I’m turning you down.”

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

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

  “Because you’re being ridiculously stubborn. You love football. Come out and have some fun.”

  “I have plans with Emily tonight.” They were going out manhunting, tonight and every Friday night until they found the right guys.

  “Bring her along,” Mitch countered.

  “She doesn’t like football.”

  “She likes private jets. And there’ll be a VIP party after the game.”

  Jenny found herself hesitating. He was right about Emily liking the VIP world. In fact, she could almost hear Emily’s voice now, extolling the virtues of a party chockablock with single male notables from the Houston area. A target-rich environment was how she’d describe it.

  And Jenny did want Emily to find the right man. Emily’s talk of getting pregnant while she was still single had Jenny worried. Single parenthood was a grueling struggle, and she wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

  It wasn’t like she’d have to stick to Mitch’s side, either at the game or at the party. In fact, she could mostly ignore him. It would be a big party, full of other guests.

  “You and I won’t be alone at all,” Mitch assured her, breaking the silence.

  The unexpected statement surprised a laugh out of Jenny. “Are you afraid I won’t be able to keep my hands off you?”

  “No.” He didn’t smile, and he didn’t elaborate. His gaze remained steady on her eyes, and for some reason she thought he meant the opposite. But that was crazy. Sexy, famous Mitch could easily keep his hands off staid, plain Jenny.

  Still, a buzz of awareness shimmied through her system, and she silently berated herself for the weakness. How long was it going to take for these ridiculous feelings to go away?

  “Fifty-yard line,” he added.

  “You think that’ll tempt me?”

  “Yes, I do. Row four.”

  Okay, she was tempted. But she promised herself that it had nothing to do with spending time with Mitch. They were great seats. And it would be a great party. And she had four brand-new outfits to choose from.

  Plus, she knew Emily would love the trip. Emily had been incredibly supportive and unbelievably patient all week long. The very least Jenny owed her was a target-rich VIP party.

  An optimistic smile twitched Mitch’s lips. “You’ll be able to smell the sweat and hear the cuss words.”

  Jenny made up her mind. “Wow. What girl could say no to that?”

  The Tigers won the game twenty-one to six, so the mood afterward at the Moberly Club party on Galveston Bay was celebratory. With Emily’s wholehearted approval, Jenny had worn navy leggings and royal blue leather ankle boots, topped with a flirty denim miniskirt and a shimmering peach tank top. They’d done the makeup thing again, put in her contacts and pulled her hair back in a messy knot, topping the whole outfit off with dangling silver earrings.

  Jenny wasn’t used to men’s interested gazes following her progress while she crossed a room. But she steeled herself, squared her shoulders and ordered herself to relax and have a good time. There was a dance band playing in the corner. She’d ordered a bright-colored cranberry martini and took a first sip. When Cole Maddison asked her to dance, she accepted cheerfully and slid off the bar stool.

  The club had been closed for the team’s private party, and everyone seemed to know everyone else. Most of the players were built for strength and not agility, so the dancing caliber was mixed. Their laughing efforts made Jenny relax, and she gave herself over to the music.

  Across from her, Cole did the same. He was under six feet, and much slighter than all the other men around him. But his movements were smooth and practiced. His smile was broad. And she felt emotionally safe in his company.

  “May I cut in?” came a deep voice at her side.

  Jenny glanced up to see Jeffrey Porter’s bright smile. She’d met him a few times over the years, and she knew he was a good friend of Mitch’s.

  She looked to Cole, who shrugged his shoulders and raised his palms, backing away to the beat of the band.

  Jeffrey wore a white cotton dress shirt and black jeans. His skin was olive-toned, and his jet-black hair was pulled back in a ponytail at the base of his neck. In her experience, he was invariably friendly and jovial. All the other players seemed to like him.

  The band switched to a slower number, and he drew her into his massive arms. “We should take this nice and slow,” he spoke in her ear. “I’m not the most graceful guy on the floor.”

  “No spins or dips?” she teased.

  “It’s for your own safety, ma’am.”

  She laughed. “Nice catch out there, by the way.” She referred to a late game play in the end zone where Jeffrey had leaped a good five feet to snag the ball and score a touchdown before smacking into the turf.

  “Thank you. Mitch would have drilled it straight to me, saved me a bruise or two.”

  “You think?”

  “Don’t get me wrong. Cooper’s a decent quarterback. But Mitch is psychic.”

  Jenny drew back. “Psychic?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Does he ever give you any stock tips?”

  It was Jeffrey’s turn to laugh, and his brown eyes crinkled up at the corners. “Wouldn’t that be something?”

  “My 401(k) could sure use the help.” Jenny spotted Emily across the dance floor in Cole’s arms. In her ultrahigh heels, they were nearly nose to nose. Her expression looked tense, her movements stiff, and Jenny couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong.

  “My salary’s just fine,” said Jeffrey. “But I expect my career to be short.”

  Jenny’s attention went back to Jeffrey. “You do? Is something wrong?”

  “I’m going by the mathematical odds. It’s tough out there.”

  Jenny cringed reflexively in sympathy, remembering some of the hits Jeffrey had received in the game. She leaned in. “Are you in pain?”

  “I’m always in pain. But that’s not the same as being injured.” He nodded toward the perimeter tables. “Now, Mitch there. He’s injured. And his physiotherapy regime is brutal.”

  Jenny glanced sideways to where Mitch stood in a group of other players. He gazed intently at her, with what looked like anger simmering in his darkened eyes.

  She missed a step, but Jeffrey quickly caught her, tugging her close. “Whoa, there, missy.”

  “Sorry,” she breathed, refocusing her attention. What on earth was the matter with Mitch now?

  Four

  Mitch watched from the sidelines at the Moberly Club, while out on the dance floor Jeffrey flirted with Jenny. Though he knew she was too smart to be taken in by Jeffrey’s smooth talk, he was tempted to warn her away from the man. Or maybe he should order Jeffrey to stay away from her. It might be his responsibility to make it clear, in no uncertain terms, that Jeffrey was to stay well away from his assistant.

  He straightened away from bar, intending to do just that.

  “Well, hello, stranger.” A tall, leggy blonde sidled up to him.

  “Misha,” he greeted, recognizing the former wife of one of Houston’s many oil executives. “I didn’t know you were in town.”

  “Back from Paris last week,” she purred, resting her elegant, manicured hand on the arm of his suit jacket. She was a former model, born and r
aised in Germany. She’d had a brief but profitable marriage in Houston. Word on the street was that he’d ended up with the sports cars, while she got the Tigers’ season tickets.

  “Would you care to dance?” he asked dutifully, even though he’d prefer to spend his time confronting Jeffrey.

  “But, of course.” She took his hand and moved to the dance floor.

  Misha, it turned out, had spent the past few months traveling, perfecting her tan in Tahiti, visiting a game preserve in South Africa and dedicating a new museum wing in Prague. She offered to show him her all-over tan, but Mitch graciously declined.

  His next dance partner was just back from St. Kitts. It seemed she’d bought a little bungalow beside the ocean. She’d taken up snorkeling. She throatily informed him there was a hot tub on the balcony of her hotel suite, and then hinted that she’d like to show him how long she could hold her breath.

  Mitch honestly didn’t remember these parties being quite so crass. By midnight, all he wanted to do was head for the hotel, take an aspirin and crawl under the covers.

  Alone.

  But then his gaze caught Jenny.

  She was in the corner talking to Emily, being handed another martini. A green one this time. She seemed to have developed a taste for exotic drinks. And he didn’t know what had gotten into her with the clothes lately.

  That short skirt showed off her incredible legs, and their navy silhouette made a man’s mind go all kinds of places. She’d worn her contacts again, and her ornate earrings sparkled whenever she moved her head. His gaze rested on the shimmering peach tank top, making out the rounded curves of her breasts against the slinky fabric. It was obvious she’d forgone a bra.

  He couldn’t remember ever seeing her braless. Then again, he supposed he hadn’t been looking. Why was he looking now? What the hell was the matter with him? What, exactly, would it take for him to learn his lesson?

  He caught sight of Jeffrey. The man was heading in Jenny’s direction again, a predatory gleam in his eyes. This time, Mitch did make his move. And he didn’t let anyone stop him along the way.

  “Jeffrey,” he greeted heartily, falling into step with the man.

  “Hey, Mitch. Glad you could make it.”

  Mitch would just bet Jeffrey was glad he’d shown up with Jenny. “I see you’ve met Jenny.”

  Jeffrey frowned. “I’ve met her lots of times before.”

  “You didn’t dance with her before.”

  “Her hotness factor’s gone way up in my books.”

  “You keep her out of your books.”

  Jeffrey turned his head to look at Mitch. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

  “She’s my assistant, you moron. Keep your hands off her.”

  “We were only dancing.”

  Mitch shot Jeffrey a dark look. “You’re talking to me here, Jeff.”

  Jeffrey gave a sheepish smile. “Point taken.”

  “She’s a nice girl.”

  “Then she’ll slap me across the face, won’t she?”

  “You give her any reason to slap you across the face, and your face will be meeting up with my fist.”

  Jeffrey sputtered out a laugh. “So says the cripple.”

  “I’ve still got my left.”

  In answer, Jeffrey looped an arm over Mitch’s shoulder. “Careful, buddy. You’re starting to sound territorial.”

  “I told you, she’s my assistant.”

  “And that’s all she is?”

  “Absolutely.” If Mitch said it out loud often enough, maybe it would come true.

  “Why don’t I believe you?”

  Probably because Mitch was lying. “Because your brain’s in the gutter.”

  “Your brain and mine have been partying together down there for quite a few years.”

  Mitch spoke slowly and deliberately. “Not with Jenny.”

  “Hey, Jenny,” Jeffrey sang out as they approached. He did a few mock dance steps, making her smile. “Got time for one more spin around the floor?”

  Jenny turned and stumbled ever so slightly on her high-heeled boots, bracing herself against the bar. Her green eyes were bright, her smile more dazzling than usual. Mitch had seen her with only the two, but how many drinks had she had?

  “We have to head out,” Mitch interrupted before she could answer. If there was any chance her judgment was clouded, Jeffrey was the last guy she needed to be around.

  “It’s barely midnight,” Jeffrey protested.

  “We’ve planned an early flight in the morning,” Mitch lied again. They could take the jet back to Royal anytime they wanted. But he stepped up beside Jenny, threading her arm through his.

  “Cole around?” he asked Emily.

  The woman sniffed her delicate nose. “How would I know?”

  “You were dancing with him.”

  “Only till I could get rid of him.”

  Jenny pointed. “Over there. Behind the pillar.” She started to move, but Mitch held on, causing her to trip again.

  “How many martinis did you drink?” he asked.

  She looked up at him, blinking her long lashes as if to bring him into focus. “I ordered two. But I barely sipped either of them. Why?”

  “Because you’re a lightweight,” he murmured.

  “Thank you.” She nodded sarcastically. “I just lost three pounds.”

  He couldn’t stop a grin at her joke as he ushered her forward to where they could meet up with Cole. “Time for bed, princess.”

  As they passed Jeffrey, the man shook his head, chuckling darkly at Mitch. “Assistant. Right.”

  Mitch threw a surreptitious elbow into Jeffrey’s rib cage.

  “I’m starving,” said Jenny from the third-row seat in the chauffeur-driven Escalade as they sped along the shore of Galveston Bay.

  Mitch twisted his head to look at her. “That’s probably a good idea. A little food in your stomach along with the liquor.”

  “Will you stop,” Jenny huffed. “I sipped on two teeny little martinis. I’m just hungry because it’s late. Look.” She pointed out the tinted window, turning her head as they cruised past the red neon sign. “Cara Mia Trattoria. And it’s open.”

  Cole spoke up from the bucket seat next to Mitch’s in the middle row. “If she can read Italian, she can’t be that bad off.”

  Jenny smacked the back of Cole’s bucket seat. “I’m perfectly sober, people.”

  Cole grinned, while Emily gave a shrug. “I could eat.”

  Mitch turned forward to address the driver. “Can you take us back to Cara Mia?”

  “Of course, sir,” the uniformed man responded. He checked the rearview mirror, then pulled a U-turn in advance of an upcoming red light, taking up the right-hand lane, before signaling to pull up to Cara Mia’s front door.

  As the SUV came to a smooth halt, Mitch handed the man a twenty-dollar tip.

  “Thank you, sir. You have the service’s number?”

  “I do,” Mitch confirmed, yawning the door open.

  “We’re on duty for the team until three.”

  Mitch nodded his thanks and stepped out of the vehicle. He turned to offer his hand to Emily, who’d been sitting behind him, but his gaze moved reflexively to Jenny’s flirty skirt as she exited from Cole’s side.

  “They have a deck,” she announced as she rounded the back of the SUV. Wisps of hair had worked loose from her knot and curled enchantingly around her bright face. “Do you think we can sit out there?”

  Mitch curled her arm around his own, steadying her across the cobblestone drive. “I’m sure they’ll let us sit wherever we want.”

  She inhaled. “I love the ocean.”

  Wind bent the palm leaves, and rolling waves sounded rhythmically in the distance.

  “Fresh air’s probably good for you,” he observed while she disentangled her arm from his and stepped toward the restaurant stairs.

  The hostess wove her way in front of them through the crowded tables on the restaurant’s deck. She showed
them to a view table, overlooking lighted gardens, an expansive lawn and stone walkways that led down to a sandy beach. The tide was in, and the surf was up. Propane heaters warmed the air, and a floral centerpiece anchored the billowing white cloth on the round table.

  Jenny plunked into a padded wicker chair and snagged a leather-bound menu.

  A waiter filled their water glasses and offered cocktails, but they all opted for iced tea.

  “Isn’t that gorgeous?” Jenny’s attention was distracted by the tiny pink lights decorating the flower gardens. In an instant, she was on her feet, crossing to the rail of the sundeck for a better look.

  “Chicken marsala pizza?” suggested Cole. “With avocado and eggplant.”

  Emily peered over her menu at him. “What is that? Like, nerd pizza?”

  “Are you calling me a nerd?”

  She smirked. “Just commenting on your taste in pizza.”

  “Well, what do you suggest?”

  “Sausage, ham, peppers, mushrooms, onions, pepperoni.”

  “What are you, pledging a fraternity?”

  “It’s a classic.”

  “You want me to order a pitcher of draft to go with it?” asked Cole. “We could have a chugging contest.”

  Emily stuck out her tongue at him.

  Mitch chuckled low at the pair’s antics, glancing to check out Jenny at the rail of the deck.

  She was gone.

  He straightened in his chair, gaze darting from table to table. Had she gone to the ladies’ room?

  He stood.

  “What?” Emily asked.

  “Where’s Jenny?”

  Emily and Cole peered around the busy deck.

  Mitch’s gaze snagged on her boots, discarded beneath her chair at the table. He instantly shifted his attention to the lighted gardens. There she was, halfway down the stone path, meandering her way toward the ocean.

  “Got her.” He pointed, tossing his napkin onto the table. “I’ll be right back.”

  He trotted down the stairs and strode his way through the quiet gardens toward the beach. The salt tang grew stronger, and the roar of the waves filled his ears as he caught up to Jenny.

  “Going somewhere?” he asked as her feet hit the sand.