An After-Hours Affair

by Barbara Dunlop

  “That’s not the problem.”

  “Then what’s the problem? You’re grimacing.”

  “That style isn’t you.”

  “It is now.” She brushed past him. “I have to get Emily some silver shoes.”

  “Get her a bag, too,” called Cole, and Jenny cracked what looked like a reluctant grin as she shook her head.

  Mitch watched as she made her way across the store. She consulted with the shoe salesman, chose two pairs, then started back. On the way, she paused at a rack, taking out something gauzy and pastel, her expression softening as she ran her fingers over the fabric. But when the sales clerk approached her with two more dresses, she let the gauzy one fall back on the rack. The two women chatted on their way back to the changing area.

  Curious, Mitch went to see what had caught her eye.

  He couldn’t have been more surprised. It was a V-necked, spaghetti-strapped dress made of pale, mottled rainbow silk. The soft, romantic colors were very unlike Jenny, as was the swish of the layered skirt that came to points at the hem, and the tiny jewels that adorned the neck and the waist.

  For some reason, the dress reminded him of the house plans. Did Jenny have a secret romantic side? Instead of geometric lines and practicality, did she truly long for swirls and irreverence? The idea intrigued him.

  “Hand-painted,” came the clerk’s voice from behind his shoulder. “One of my favorite designers. Brand-new in today. Is it for someone special?”

  Mitch was willing to bet every item in the store was made by one of the clerk’s favorite designers. But if this particular one had caught Jenny’s eye, he wanted to see her in it.

  He nodded to the changing rooms. “Can you take it to the woman who’s trying things on? The one with the strawberry blond hair?”

  “Of course.” The clerk smiled, removing the dress from the display.

  “Don’t tell her it’s from me.”

  The woman touched her finger to her lips to promise her silence, and Mitch gave her a nod of appreciation.

  He moved to another section of the store, pretending to ignore Jenny. In his peripheral vision, he caught her puzzled frown and her initial head shake to the clerk. But the persistent clerk prevailed, and Jenny took the dress into her cubical.

  Mitch made his way casually back to the changing area.

  “Are you going to offer an opinion?” Emily was demanding of Cole as she modeled the silver dress. “Or just stand there and gawk?”

  “I’m here to make sure you don’t go overboard with my credit card.”

  “Oh, I’m going overboard all right.” She held out one of her silver sandaled feet. “See these? They’re Amerelda, three-inch heels, and I’m buying them.”

  “What about the blue dress?”

  “You liked the blue dress?”

  “Your choice.”

  “Well, I like them both.”

  “Then buy them both.”

  Emily put her nose in the air as she flounced off. “I think I will.”

  Mitch turned to Cole and raised his brows, wondering if his friend had a master plan. “This is going to be an awfully expensive date.”

  “Like I care.”

  Mitch considered Cole’s determined expression, and came to the simple conclusion that he had it very, very bad for Emily Kiley. In a misery-loves-company way, it made him feel better. But only by a very small margin.

  “I hope she’s worth it,” he offered to Cole.

  “I figure I’ll know by the end of the weekend.”

  Then Jenny appeared in the hand-painted silk, and the breath left Mitch’s body. She looked like a goddess, a fairy nymph who wandered out of a mystical garden. The colors set off her honey-toned skin, meshing perfectly with her minimal makeup and her delicate features. Her limbs were long and graceful, and he immediately pictured her with wild flowers in her hair, tiny white satin sandals and a trailing bouquet.

  He found his feet moving, taking him closer to where she swayed one way then the other in front of the mirror. The words buy it, buy it, buy it echoed through his head, but he kept himself determinedly silent.

  “It’s really not me,” she said to no one in particular.

  Mitch moved closer still. “Pretend for a minute,” he said softly. “That you’re not you.”

  “Well, that’s ridiculous.” But she smiled as she said it, and a warmth invaded his system.

  “It goes with your eyes,” he offered, easing closer still, turning the conversation more intimate.

  “It would have to. There’s every color in the universe on this.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “Maybe if I was a fairy princess. But I’d never wear it again.”

  “So what?”

  “I’m not going to buy a dress this expensive to wear once.”

  “I’ll buy it for you,” Mitch found himself vowing. Then he instantly regretted the words when her smile disappeared.

  “Cole told me his plan,” Mitch quickly amended, backpedaling fast. “I only meant that anything that won’t fit on his credit card will fit on mine. Don’t you want to be a fairy princess for just one night?”

  A longing burned deep in Jenny’s green eyes, and he knew in that instant she was the fairy princess. She’d been the cautious, perfect child for her mother, the professional, meticulous employee at the TCC, and the chic, sophisticated city girl for Emily, but deep down inside, Jenny wanted to be the princess.

  She needed this dress. And she needed the whimsical house and the custom furniture. And Mitch vowed to himself that he would move heaven and earth to make those things happen for her.

  Suddenly, Emily appeared from her change room, and her eyes went wide when she saw Jenny. “Wow. That’s sure not you.”

  “It’s not, is it?” And some of the light went out of Jenny’s eyes.

  Cole moved closer to stand next to Mitch.

  “But isn’t that the point?” Mitch quickly put in, feeling almost desperate. “For Jenny to buy something completely different? When is she going to get a chance like this again? It’s hand-painted silk,” he parroted the sales clerk. “Just came into the store today. One of her—” he gestured vaguely to the clerk across the store “—favorite designers.”

  Both Jenny and Emily blinked at him in surprise.

  “I overheard,” he defended.

  Emily took another look at the dress. “Well, maybe,” she allowed.

  “Once in a lifetime,” Mitch repeated. Then he lowered his voice for Jenny’s ears alone. “A dream.”

  Jenny hesitated for a long moment. Then she turned back to the mirror. She pivoted, letting the skirt swirl around her thighs.

  “It’ll look great on the dance floor,” Mitch dared. “You need some white satin sandals, low heels, maybe a ribbon at the ankle.”

  “What the hell’s up with you?” Cole muttered beside him.

  “Shut up.”

  “That might look good,” said Emily. “Really, what the heck?”

  Jenny smiled, and Mitch’s chest went tight. It was a perfectly natural reaction, he assured himself. He’d never claimed that he didn’t admire Jenny, only that he wasn’t any good for her. He wanted her to be happy. She deserved it.

  Nine

  The awards had been handed out by the governor, the speeches made, dinner was finished and Mitch’s distinguished plaque for the Youth Outreach Award was parked with the others on a table for attendees to admire. As the best days in Mitch’s life went, this would probably rank as the worst.

  He’d made it through his short speech, thanking all the right people, but all he could see was that Jenny was with Jeffrey instead of him. And echoing inside his brain were his doctor’s words from earlier this morning. His worst fear had been realized today. Mitch was never going to play football again.

  He hadn’t said a word to anyone, and now he was standing on the sidelines as the dancing began, accepting congratulations from friends, acquaintances and strangers while watching Jenny in Jeffrey’s
arms.

  He should have talked her into the gray wool blend instead of the rainbow silk after all. He resented the way the delicate dress flowed around her sexy legs, a splash of color in a sea of monochrome. Her hair was styled in a crown of braids, wisps flowing free over her temples and along her neck. And she’d found a pair of white silk sandals. The heels were higher than he’d pictured, but they were strappy and delicate, rhinestones winking around her slim ankles.

  She was perfect, and it was all for another man.

  He took a deep drink of his single malt.

  She disappeared from his view, and he reflexively shifted, nearly knocking into an older gentleman in a tux, who scowled at Mitch, his bushy brows drawing together. Mitch gave a perfunctory apology, not particularly caring that the man might be someone important.

  He wove his way through the crowd, trying to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t a pro football player anymore. What was he now? Just a guy with a nest egg and no career, whose services would soon not even be required at the TCC. They’d have a new president, and Mitch would have little to do and nothing of value to contribute to the community.

  He came closer to the edge of the dance floor, telling himself to stop wallowing in self-pity. But watching Jenny laugh in Jeffrey’s arms made everything that much worse. Jeffrey should let go of her. He needed to let go of her right now. In Mitch’s raw, emotional state, he needed Jenny in his arms, not in his teammate’s.

  Scratch that. He and Jeffrey weren’t teammates anymore.

  Mitch stuck his glass on an empty tray stand as the music changed from one song to the next. The band was sticking to classics, with the occasional jazz tune tossed in. No pop and no rock, and apparently no country, even though this was Texas.

  When the floral arrangements were two feet high, the main course was Kobe beef and Newfoundland lobster, and the average carat weight per woman was in the low double digits, he supposed Keith Urban was out of the question. Still, he had an urge to scoop Jenny up, get rid of his bow tie and jacket, and head for the nearest honky-tonk where they could kick back.

  He craned his neck, scanning the floor. Where had she gone?

  “Having a good time so far?” came Jeffrey’s deep voice.

  “A blast,” Mitch responded drily, determinedly swallowing his misery, bracing himself for an up close view of Jenny in the dress. But when he turned his head, she wasn’t with Jeffrey.

  “She’s out on the dance floor.” Jeffrey had correctly interpreted Mitch’s expression.

  “You left her there alone?” That was even worse.

  “She’s got a new partner.”

  “Who?” Mitch demanded.

  Jeffrey chuckled. “I didn’t get his name.”

  Mitch strained to look, but couldn’t catch a glimpse of her dress. “You didn’t tell her I was going to be here, did you?”

  “Was I supposed to tell her that?” Jeffrey accepted a glass of wine from a passing waiter.

  Mitch declined another drink. “I saw her expression of shock when my name was called at the podium.”

  “Yet she wasn’t sitting anywhere close to you.”

  “Don’t get cute. I thought you would have given her a heads-up is all.” Mitch took a step back to get out of the line of circulation around the dance floor.

  “Why didn’t you tell her yourself?”

  “I barely saw her this week.” Except in the office. And in the office, they were being careful to stick to business.

  “She told me about the dress,” said Jeffrey.

  “That was Cole.”

  “Cole said it was you.”

  “Cole has a big mouth.” Mitch changed his mind about the wine and caught the next waiter who came by.

  “So, why are you turning yourself inside out watching me dance with her?”

  Mitch grunted a noncommittal answer. So he didn’t want Jenny at the mercy of a player like Jeffrey. That was simply good taste.

  “You don’t want to date her,” Jeffrey pointed out, watching Mitch a little too closely.

  “Of course I don’t want to date her. But I don’t want you to date her, either.”

  “Noble sentiment. If you were her father, and if this was the nineteenth century.”

  “Ha, ha,” Mitch mocked.

  “Seriously, Mitch. Am I making my point out there?” He cocked his head to the dance floor. “You need to either start dating her yourself or step aside.”

  “I already stepped aside.”

  “The hell you did. You haven’t taken your eyes off her all night.”

  “I can’t see her now.”

  “She’s to the left of the band.”

  Mitch zeroed in. He felt a little buzz of relief at seeing her proper stance with her dance partner. He could live with those six inches of airspace between them. But he wasn’t so crazy about the guy’s expression, nor about the way he kept glancing at her cleavage.

  “Tell me something, Mitch.”

  “Yeah?”

  “That guy she’s dancing with? What do you want to do to him?”

  “Rip his head off and kick it through the uprights.”

  “I rest my case.”

  “You have no case.”

  “You can’t take out every guy who wants to sleep with her. Because take a good look at her, Mitch, lots of guys are going to want to sleep with her.”

  “It better not frickin’ be you.”

  “It’ll never be me.”

  Mitch didn’t trust that promise, not one little bit. “Why not?”

  “Because you’re my friend, and because I know what’s going on here.”

  For a split second, Mitch thought Jeffrey meant his shoulder injury. But he quickly realized it was impossible for Jeffrey to know what the doctor had said.

  “What’s going on here?” Mitch asked.

  “What’s going on here is that you’ve been sacked one too many times behind the line of scrimmage, and it’s resulted in serious brain damage. Otherwise, you’d be out there on that dance floor with Jenny. She’s incredible, Mitch. And she said she wants to date you. But, oh, no, you’re so busy protecting your dating future with generic blonde bombshells, that you—”

  “That’s not what this is about,” Mitch growled.

  Jeffrey snorted. “The hell it’s not.”

  “Give me one reason why I should take advice from you.”

  “Because I screwed up. I had my chance with Celeste, and I blew it. I have to start all over again.” His voice went lower. “You watched me screw up, so now you don’t have to.”

  “It’s not that simple,” said Mitch, even as his thigh muscles quivered with the need to cross the hall to Jenny. He tried to tell himself it wasn’t fair to Jenny to date her. But a growing chorus in his brain kept telling him he wouldn’t hurt her. He liked her too much to ever let himself hurt her. He honestly didn’t know which side of the argument to believe anymore.

  “Song’s about to change,” Jeffrey warned.

  Mitch swore under his breath. Giving in, he took the first few steps toward the dance floor.

  Mitch was heading her way. Jenny watched him weave through the crowd on the dance floor. His gaze had locked on hers, and his jaw was set to a determined angle, shoulders square, stride eating up the distance between them. Judging by the flare in his blue eyes, he was either going to ask her to dance or have her arrested.

  The strains of the music faded around her, and she relaxed her hold on her partner, stepping away.

  “Thank you.” She smiled and nodded to the man she’d just met, drawing away and switching her attention back to Mitch.

  She drew a little hitch of a breath, letting her arms fall to her sides and reflexively moistening her lips. She felt pretty tonight in a way she never had before. It was the dress, the hairstyle, the subtle makeup and the delicate shoes. And there was no denying, it was also the way men regarded her.

  Normally, she caught very few eyes. At the wedding and the football party, when she’d
been dressed in such sophisticated clothes, their interest had been frankly sexual. But tonight was different. There was respect in their eyes, a deference in their tone when they asked for a dance.

  Jenny smiled to herself, thinking she could get used to this.

  Mitch was thirty feet away now. She definitely wasn’t seeing deference in his expression. Still, she found herself eagerly anticipating his arrival.

  Would he ask her to dance? Would she say yes? What would happen when she was in his arms again? Would all her well-laid plans fly out the window? Because the one thing she definitely could not achieve with Mitch was equanimity.

  He came to a halt in front of her.

  Neither of them spoke, but his expression softened.

  “I like your dress,” he finally spoke. “Thank you.”

  The music came up again, and she felt self-conscious standing still in the middle of the swaying couples.

  “Did you want to dance?” she asked him, taking away her option to say no. Not that she realistically thought she’d say no to him.

  “No,” he told her, making her feel more self-conscious than ever. “I want to get out of here,” he finished.

  She wasn’t sure how to take that. Was he saying goodbye? She couldn’t control a wash of disappointment.

  He steadily held her gaze. “Come with me.”

  Yes, yes, yes. “I came here with Jeffrey,” she reluctantly replied. “I can’t just leave him.”

  But Mitch took her hand, something that looked like pain filtering through his eyes. “Only as far as the grounds. I’ve got to get away from this crowd for a few minutes.”

  “Is something wrong?” She couldn’t imagine why Mitch would feel a need to leave. He was a celebrity tonight. She’d been surreptitiously watching him while she danced, and he’d had a steady stream of congratulations, everyone from the governor to movie stars.

  “Yeah,” he told her, towing her along. “Something’s wrong.”

  He shouldered his way through the crowd, her hand still firmly clasped in his as he cleared a path to the bank of French doors that led to a huge concrete veranda.

  It was a warm, humid night, and a few couples were engaged in conversation around the lighted deck, drinks in hand, dresses sparkling along with the laughter.