“Just breathing the night air,” she responded, and turned in a circle.
“Only two drinks?” he confirmed.
She shook her head and rolled her eyes.
“I was afraid you’d decided to take a swim,” he admitted.
“It’ll take more than a few sips of a martini to get me into the ocean in September.” She plunked down on the soft sand.
Once again, he was struck by how different she seemed from the regular Jenny who masterminded his financial spreadsheets, deftly handled demanding club members and wrote concise, informative month-end reports. The transformation was more than a little disconcerting.
He eased down beside her, taking in her little skirt spread out in the sand. The shimmering top left most of her tanned back bare, while her breasts pressed teasingly against the thin fabric, nipples pebbled in the cool air.
“Interesting outfits you’ve been choosing lately,” he heard himself observe, dragging his gaze away from her sexiness.
“I needed a new look,” she told him, nodding out to sea. “If I want to snag a man.”
Something hitched in Mitch’s stomach. “You want to find a man?”
“Of course I want to find a man. All women want to find a man.” She turned back to him and pointed her index finger for emphasis. “And if they tell you they don’t, well… Well, maybe they don’t. But most of them do. And I do.”
Her eyes were round and soft in the glow from the gardens. Her cheeks were flushed, and her lips were pursed in a determined little moue that he wanted so badly to kiss. He gritted his teeth against the unruly urge, his stomach tightening.
“You had them lining up at the Moberly Club,” he pointed out. “You must have danced with Jeffrey five times.”
“Jeffrey’s nice,” she sighed.
Mitch felt his gut clench tighter. He needed to nip this Jeffrey fixation in the bud. “Jeffrey’s not a good guy for you.”
“I’m not that crazy about his ponytail.”
“Well. Good.” Not that the ponytail was the biggest worry by any stretch of the imagination.
“Jeffrey likes you a lot.” She smoothed out a patch of sand with her palm, then traced her fingertips in a pattern through it.
At the moment, Mitch couldn’t say he was exactly returning the favor. What if Jeffrey decided to cut his ponytail? Mitch would cut off a ponytail. For the right woman.
Wait a minute. What was he saying? There was no right woman. There were only women. Plural. Sophisticated and uncomplicated, and in keeping with his pro-football lifestyle.
Jenny smoothed out the sandy patch again, then drew a big heart with her index finger.
Mitch found himself waiting for her to draw initials.
“Jeffrey says you’re psychic,” she put in instead.
Mitch glanced up. “He what?”
“He told me you were psychic.” She pushed the sand off her hand and held it out to him, palm up. “Go ahead. Read my future.” She came to her knees looking decidedly earnest. “Tell me about the tall, dark, handsome dream man I’m going to marry. I’d like two kids, a white picket fence. And throw in a dog, will you?”
He took her hand, realizing it was just an excuse to touch her, but not particularly caring.
She looked so sweet in the dappled light.
“What kind of dog?” he asked, pretending to take her seriously.
“A Dalmatian.”
“Isn’t that a little big?”
She gazed up at him. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to work. You tell me what kind of dog.”
“Oh. All right.” He obediently looked down at her outspread hand.
He gave in to the temptation to run the pad of his thumb over her palm, tracing the faint lines on her soft skin. “I predict a long and happy life.”
“That’s lame.”
“I thought everybody wanted a long and happy life.”
“You need to be more specific.”
“Okay.” He squinted. “Here we go. Next Tuesday.” He paused. “You’re going to buy a purple dress.”
She tipped her head, peering closer. “Will it help me snag a man?”
“Tall, dark and handsome,” he put in, ignoring the jolt of emotion at the thought of her on a honeymoon with some random stranger. It was bad enough watching her dance with Jeffrey.
A serene smile grew on her face. “That sounds nice.”
Mitch found he didn’t like her reaction, not one little bit. “Wait a minute,” he elaborated. “He cheats on you and you kick him to the curb.”
“What? No. No way.”
Mitch shrugged. “Afraid so.”
“You’re lying.”
“I calls ’em as I sees ’em.”
She tugged her hand away and gazed out across the bay. “You’re a terrible fortune-teller.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle at her outrage. To make amends, he held out his own hand. “Here, you predict mine.”
She didn’t even bother to look at it. “You’re going to die alone and lonely.”
“What did I do to deserve that?” Not that he was denying it. It was most likely true.
“You’re a heartbreaker, Mitch.”
“Not on purpose.” There had been a few women who’d expressed disappointment that he didn’t want to get into a serious relationship. He’d always chalked it up to the fame and money factors. He knew he wasn’t enough of a prize that a woman might actually miss him for himself.
“Result’s the same,” she told him. And she looked so dejected, that he found himself desperate to put the smile back on her face.
“How ’bout I make up for being such a cad,” he teased. “I could get you a Dalmatian puppy. Or a kitten. Kittens are a lot less work.”
She gave him a look of exasperation. “I don’t want a pet.”
She wanted a man. He got it. He hated it, but he got it. She wanted the kind of man Mitch would never be. He knew what he should say, knew what he had to say and what he had to do.
His tone was decisive. “I’ll help you find one.”
“A pet?”
“A man.”
Jenny’s eyes went wide. “What?”
“If you’re sure that’s what you want.” His voice grew stronger. “I’m here for you, Jenny. I know a lot of men. Jeffrey’s a bad choice, but—”
She jumped to her feet, swiping the sand off the back of her denim skirt. “Have you lost your mind?”
He watched the strokes of her palms for a moment, but then quickly checked his wandering imagination. “I’m happy to help out,” he lied, rising with her.
“You are not going to fix me up with your friends.”
It certainly wasn’t his first choice, but it was a perfectly practical approach to her problem. And to his. Since mooning after her like a lovesick adolescent wasn’t getting him anywhere. “I don’t see why not.”
“Because it’s insulting, for one.”
“How is that insulting? I have nice friends. Most of them are physically fit. Most have money. Many of them are considered handsome.”
“Read my lips.” She stared up at him in the dim light.
His gaze went obediently to her mouth.
“No,” she enunciated.
“Wow. Such a coherent and cohesive argument.”
Her eyes crackled emerald. “Hell, no.”
He couldn’t help but grin.
“Mr. Hayward?” came a stranger’s voice.
Mitch swiftly cut his attention to a cluster of teenage boys tentatively approaching across the sand.
“Is that you?”
Mitch inwardly sighed but mustered up a hearty professional smile for the teenagers. “It sure is.”
There were five in all, maybe sixteen or seventeen years old. Barefoot, they wore knee-length, brightly colored shorts topped with an assortment of team T-shirts.
“Wow,” one breathed, while a couple of the boys elbowed each other playfully.
“We play varsity for Gulfport Collegiate.”
�
��Took State last year.”
“I’m a quarterback, just like you.”
Mitch widened his smile. “Congratulations,” he offered to them collectively.
“Man, I wish we had something he could sign.”
“I wish we had a ball.”
The tallest jumped up and made a mock catch. “Mitch Hayward, right on the money.”
His friends chuckled at their own cleverness.
“Except for Davey, here,” one spoke up, taking the smallest of the group in a headlock.
The short boy struggled to get out.
“Davey doesn’t play,” said the tall one.
“Too puny,” voiced another.
“One of my best friends is your size, Davey,” Mitch offered, and the larger boy immediately let him go.
“He played baseball in high school.” Mitch folded his arms across his chest. “But he spent most of his time in the computer lab. His software company now owns twenty percent of the Texas Tigers.” Mitch’s gaze took in the rest of the group. “You’ll want to treat Davey with a little respect. One day, he might be signing your paychecks.”
Davey grinned, while the rest of the boys sobered, obviously absorbing the information.
“Tell you what,” said Mitch. “I think I can do a little better than an autograph. Davey, you drop me an email through the Tigers’ website, and I’ll hook us up with some tickets to the next Houston game.”
Five sets of eyes went wide. “Seriously, man?”
“You bet.” He draped an arm across Jenny’s shoulders. “But right now I’ve got some pizza getting cold.”
“Oh, man!”
“That’s awesome!”
“Thank you, sir!”
The boys’ calls of appreciation followed them as he steered Jenny along the path to the restaurant veranda.
“Were you serious about that?” she asked.
“The tickets?”
“No. Well, you better have been serious about the tickets.”
“I was.”
“I meant about Cole. I assume Cole was the baseball player in your story.”
“He was.”
She twisted her head to stare up at him. “Cole owns part of the Texas Tigers?”
“He owns a company that owns part of the Texas Tigers.”
“Why hasn’t he ever said anything?”
“To who? I knew. I expect plenty of other people did, too.”
“I never knew.”
He gave her shoulder a reflexive squeeze. “You’re smart, Jenny. But nobody knows everything.”
She harrumphed. “Well, now I know this.”
“Does that put him on your husband list?”
Jenny immediately jerked away from Mitch’s arm, glaring at him, putting a few feet of distance between them while her voice ramped up an octave. “How dare you?”
He wasn’t really sure how he’d dared. The question had just popped out.
“Have I ever done anything to make you think I’d marry a man for his money?”
“I only just found out you wanted to get married at all.” Though he supposed he’d long since suspected. Jenny was exactly the kind of girl who should settle down with a family. She’d be a great mother, an amazing wife.
He swallowed against a dry throat.
“And I am exceedingly sorry I ever told you that.” She put her nose in the air and flounced toward the veranda, ending the conversation.
Five
Jenny kicked off her boots and tossed her small purse onto one of the two queen-size beds in the opulent hotel room in downtown Houston. It was nearly two in the morning. The excitement of the game and party had long since worn off, and now she was simply exhausted.
“I don’t understand why you said no,” Emily said as she dropped down onto the couch that faced two blue upholstered armchairs in front of a bay window offering a view of the nighttime city.
“To Mitch, fixing me up? You don’t see an inherent conflict there?”
“You mean because you’re in love with him?”
“I am not in love with him,” she quickly denied. “I was temporarily infatuated with him. And, sure, I slept with him. But I recognized my mistake, and I’m moving on.”
“So, where’s the conflict? Heck, I’d like him to set me up. Did you get a look at some of his friends?”
Jenny sat down in one of the armchairs, curling her feet beneath her. “Like Cole? You two looked pretty cozy when we got back to the table.”
Emily blew out a disgusted breath and waved her hand through the air. “Cole? Why do you think I’d handicap my children’s genetics by hooking up with Cole?”
“Cole’s brilliant.”
“He’s barely five foot ten. And this is Texas. You don’t think my sons will want to try out for the football team someday?”
“Cole plays baseball.”
Emily arched a brow. “This is Texas,” she repeated.
“You don’t even like football.”
“But my kids will. And I can rah rah on the sidelines along with any good mother.”
“Okay. How about this? Cole owns twenty percent of the Texas Tigers.”
That information seemed to give Emily pause. “Seriously?”
“That’s what Mitch just told me.” Jenny’s thoughts went back to their conversation. “You know, Mitch was awfully good with those teenagers. We were right in the middle of an argument, but he just switched on the charm.”
“That’s our Mitch. Diplomatic and charming, no matter what the circumstances.”
As she digested Emily’s words, an unsettling thought crept into Jenny’s mind, hollowing out her stomach. “Do you think…” she began slowly. “Do you think he does it with me?”
“Does what?”
“Turns on the diplomacy. In the office. When we’re together. Do you think I’ve been seeing the polished, professional Mitch, and not the real guy?”
“It’s possible,” Emily ventured. “It does seem to be second nature to him.”
“And it’s exactly why they appointed him to the interim presidency. He can smooth things over, make everyone feel happy, even when he’s telling them no.” Jenny swallowed. “Oh, dear. This is humiliating.”
“Why?”
“He’s been handling me, just like he handles everyone else. I had a crush on the persona. I don’t even know the real guy.” Jenny stood up and paced across the room. “Do you think that’s why he slept with me?” When she thought back to the conversation, she felt the blood drain from her face. “The last thing I said to him before he got all gooey and romantic was that I was upset he hadn’t noticed my new look. Then, all of a sudden, he couldn’t say enough flowery things.”
She hung her head, shoulders drooping. “He fed me a line. He told me exactly what I wanted to hear. Good grief, I’ve seen him do it to a hundred different people. And then, when I practically threw myself into his arms…” Jenny couldn’t bring herself to finish the thought. She could never, ever face Mitch again.
“It was a mercy—” Emily pressed her lips shut.
“Just kill me,” Jenny squeaked. “Toss me off the balcony, and put me out of my misery.”
Emily came to her feet. “It’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad?”
Emily braced her hands on Jenny’s shoulders. “He can’t read your mind. All he knows is that the two of you had a one-night fling. If it was an unemotional fling for him, there’s no reason it wasn’t an unemotional fling for you. He wants to put it behind you. You do, too. Case closed.”
“Case closed?” Jenny found her voice trembling.
“You’re a logical woman, Jenny. And putting it behind you makes good sense. Heck, you’ve seen him a dozen times since that night. You’ve made it through the awkwardness. The tough part is over.”
“Yes.” Jenny forced herself to nod in agreement. The tough part was over. She’d do her job, professionally and thoroughly, just like she’d always done. Mitch was diplomatic. She could be just as d
iplomatic. And she’d keep her emotions well away from anything to do with Mitch.
“You going to let him fix you up?” asked Emily.
“Not a chance.”
“You want Cole?”
“I think of Cole as a brother.”
An odd expression flitted across Emily’s face. “Really?”
“He’s a sweetheart.”
“He’s stubborn as a mule. I think it’s short-man syndrome.”
“He’s barely under six feet. And he’s incredibly fit.” Jenny knew that Cole was involved in martial arts. He also still played baseball, and he loved the outdoors.
“Whatever,” said Emily. “He’s off the list. Fortunately for us, there are still ten million other men in Texas.”
And Jenny was going to be happy with one of those ten million men. She was going to find someone kind and honest, who was as interested as she was in building a loving family.
It was nearly four o’clock the following Saturday. Jenny was at the Cattleman’s Club offices, finishing work on her database before the office opened up again on Monday. She’d taken over the big boardroom, spreading the membership correspondence out in a way that wasn’t possible at her desk.
Her laptop was at one end of the oval table, and she had letters, emails, reports and drawings sorted in neat piles over its expanse. She was almost finished with the metadata, and she’d already scanned each of the paper documents to provide easy access for the Board of Directors.
“Jenny?” Mitch’s voice echoed from outside in the hallway, footsteps coming closer. “Is that you?”
“In here,” she called, trying hard not to react emotionally to his presence. She’d never had any problem with equanimity before, dealing with all kinds of people on all kinds of issues. But with Mitch logic and reason seemed to fly out the window.
“What are you doing here?” he asked through the doorway.
“I needed to finish up and get this table cleared off,” she replied without looking up. She pointed from pile to pile in explanation. “Letters against a new clubhouse. Letters against a female president. Pledges to vote for a female president. Letters in support of a new clubhouse. Suggestions for elements of a new clubhouse. And, actual spec, architectural drawings of a new clubhouse. Oh, and these ones are miscellaneous, save the whales, ban antibiotics in dairy cattle, nationalize the high-tech sector and turn the stop sign at Fifth and Continental into a traffic light. I wasn’t going to include them in the database.”
An After-Hours Affair Page 6
