When We Met

by Susan Mallery

  * * *

  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 c
ompany’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 st
ayed 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.