Players

by Rachel Cross

  He frowned, looking confused. “I thought you said—”

  “I knew who he was, but we didn’t exactly run in the same circles. I think he spoke to me a sum total of three times during our four years there. And then after that I didn’t see him again until he became a city councilman.”

  “So you’ve been carrying a torch for him based on a few sentences in high school? Don’t you think you may have built your feelings for him up a little too much?”

  “No! And quit making me sound like a stalker. I didn’t follow him around or anything. He was class president, for Pete’s sake. Quarterback on the football team. Prom King. He was out front and center for everyone to see along with the type of person he was. Drew never picked on any of the other kids, never cheated on a test—”

  “Sure, that you know of.”

  She ignored him. “A lot of girls liked him. Then when he became a councilman and my boss, I just . . . well, I just realized that old feelings die hard, okay?”

  “Okay, but why haven’t you ever mentioned to him that you went to school together? Seems like it would be a natural opener.”

  “I wasn’t exactly the most popular person in high school, all right? In fact, it was kind of a nightmare for me, and one I’d just as soon not relive. If he doesn’t remember the geek I used to be, why remind him?”

  “That bad?”

  “Girls can be catty. Let’s just leave it at that.”

  He looked like he wanted to ask her something more, but he let it drop. “High school is hell for everybody,” he said instead.

  Shannon raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, right. Not for you.”

  Michael looked out the window again. “You’d be surprised.”

  • • •

  Lunch was over. There were no more French fries to eat, and no reason to linger any longer. Still, Michael wasn’t in as big a hurry to leave as he thought he would be. “So you’ll talk to Drew this week?” he asked as Shannon started to get up from the table to leave.

  “I’ll try.”

  “He doesn’t have a ton of time left to reconsider things.” Even he could hear the undercurrent of tension he had tried to keep out of his voice. He made an effort to keep his expression neutral. Easier said than done, judging by the slight softening he saw in Shannon’s face as she looked at him.

  “I understand.” She hesitated and then added, “I mean it. Okay?”

  He believed her. “Sorry. Just anxious, I guess.”

  She nodded, not with a lot of warmth maybe but without any perceivable traces of antagonism either.

  “Call me after?” he asked as she headed for the door. If he weren’t careful, he was going to make a real pest of himself. He bit his tongue to keep from blurting anything else out.

  “I will.” She let the door swing shut behind her.

  Michael watched her walk a short way down the street before crossing it. All in all, he thought things had gone well. She was going to help him, and he realized he actually wanted to help her. Startling though it may be, Shannon Mahoney was growing on him. He might even go so far as to say he was starting to like her. The mouth on her . . .

  He tried hard to picture her in high school but couldn’t. It was highly unlikely they had ever crossed paths at McKinley, but he wondered what would have happened if they had. He almost wished they did.

  He saw her start to pull open the door of her truck and then pause. Something had caught her attention, but he couldn’t tell what. Curious, he leaned closer to the coffee shop window to see better.

  She was looking at a window display in a women’s clothing store. There was a dress of some kind. It might have been green, but the sun’s glare off the glass made it difficult to see much. It was definitely short, though.

  A smile made his lips curve. “Do it,” he urged beneath his breath. “Take a walk on the wild side, Shannon.”

  Almost as if she could hear him, she shook her head and pulled the truck door open all the way.

  “Do it,” he whispered.

  She paused again, and then Michael’s grin got wider as she slammed the door shut and walked toward the store.

  “That’s my girl.”

  • • •

  This was a mistake, Shannon thought, standing in the middle of the boutique surrounded by rack after rack of clothes she would never have the nerve to wear in public and almost certainly couldn’t afford. What had possessed her to come in here?

  She turned around to leave but stopped with her hand on the door.

  Confidence. A woman of confidence would not let tiny things like shopping or dressing room lighting intimidate her. A woman of confidence would take a chance on something new, especially when the old had not been working out so well for her. And she most certainly wouldn’t have a panic attack at the thought of showing off a little skin. Would she?

  Then clearly she was not a woman of confidence yet. Baby steps, she told herself and peeled her fingers off the door handle.

  Forcing herself to take slow, deep breaths, Shannon put one foot in front of the other until she was standing before a saleswoman who was putting together a trendy ensemble for a mannequin.

  The woman, chic from the cutting edge style of her bobbed hairdo to the tips of her stiletto heels, looked up with a practiced smile pasted to her face. “Hello. Welcome to Martinique’s.”

  “Help me,” Shannon said.

  The saleswoman’s eyes widened as she took in Shannon’s jeans and t-shirt, but then she laid a well-manicured and comforting hand on Shannon’s shoulder. “Girlfriend, you’ve come to the right place.” She smiled, a gleam of anticipation in her eyes. This is going to be fun.”

  Chapter Five

  “Why would any woman want to torture herself like this?”

  Oh, sure, the spiky heels looked cute and sexy when she wasn’t actually trying to walk in them. Any sophistication they lent her was ruined the moment Shannon tried to take a step.

  She stumbled around her bedroom, practicing, hoping she would get the hang of them before she left for work in five minutes. At this point, she was not very optimistic about reaching that goal.

  Bo whined anxiously and watched her progress, or lack of it.

  “Don’t worry, Mommy’s fine,” Shannon assured him, and then nearly proved herself a liar by pitching forward and catching herself at the last minute on the bedpost.

  At least at work she would be sitting most of the time. That is, if this skinny little pencil skirt would allow it. Choosing to take the stairs in her stocking feet to be on the safe side, she carried the new shoes in one hand.

  Twenty minutes later, walking up the steps at the entrance to her workplace went a little more smoothly than her attempts at home. As long as she held on to the railing and took small steps, she moved with halfway decent grace. Small steps to the door, small steps over the threshold—

  A woman’s shriek startled her into nearly losing her balance again. Shannon quickly clutched at the doorframe for support as she started to wobble. “What the—”

  Clarissa came running to greet her, her hands on her cheeks and her mouth hanging open. “Oh my stars! Who are you, and what have you done with Shannon Mahoney?” She put her hands on Shannon’s shoulders and looked her over from head to toe, eyes shining with undisguised delight. “Eeek! I love it!”

  “Clarissa, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  “Me? What about you? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a skirt before. You’ve got legs! It’s like invasion of the body snatchers or something.”

  “Yeah, well, I’d better not drop anything today, because in these heels and this skirt—” She tried unsuccessfully to inhale deeply and failed as the waistband refused to let her. “I don’t think I could bend over and make it back up again.”

  “Maybe not, but you’d look great trying. Oh, Shannon, what came over you?”

  She knew she radiated anything but confidence. “Temporary insanity?”

  “Then you should go crazy more often. An
d, honey, that shade of blue looks beautiful on you.”

  Glancing down a little shyly, Shannon smoothed out nonexistent wrinkles in the silky top. “I don’t know. It’s a little too . . . something.”

  “Non-beige? That’s its nicest feature, dear. Trust me, you look wonderful.” Clarissa took a step back to review her one more time, then frowned at Shannon’s hair. “But, honey, why don’t you let your hair out of that braid for once? As long as you’re trying a new look and all.”

  “No, I think it’s better the way it is. Really.” She had briefly considered cutting it or getting someone to change the color for her, but then lost her nerve. She had tried that once before, years ago, and wound up slinking out of the salon with green hair. It was not an experience she was in a hurry to repeat.

  Apparently Clarissa was satisfied with her answer, because she didn’t press the matter. Instead, she gave Shannon a quick hug. “Well, you look lovely, my dear.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I mean it. Oh, look! Doesn’t Shannon look wonderful today?” she said to someone behind Shannon.

  Self-conscious, Shannon turned around to see Drew walking through the open doorway, briefcase in one hand and cup of coffee in the other. Confidence, she reminded herself and forced her shoulders back. “Good morning.”

  The double take Drew did was probably the loveliest thing she had ever seen in her life. “Good morning. You do look . . . wow. Special occasion today?”

  “I . . . I’m, uh—” Her mind drew a blank, and she blurted out the first thing that popped into her head. “Well, I’m meeting someone after work.” Great. Were confident women liars, too? “I mean, I might be. You know, later.” Oh, just stop talking, she thought harshly at herself.

  “You have a date?” Clarissa squealed happily. “Who’s the guy?”

  See, this was why it was a bad idea to lie, Shannon thought with growing tension. Besides the guilt it induced, it tended to snowball. “Um, well, I don’t . . . ”

  Clarissa looked suddenly wary. “It’s a blind date, isn’t it? Be careful there, honey. In this day and age you never know who might wind up sitting across the table from you.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Shannon agreed, and she hurried away from the blonde and her questions as fast as her new shoes would allow her. “Excuse me.”

  “I expect to hear all the juicy details tomorrow,” Clarissa called after her.

  Well, she would just have to worry about that tomorrow, she thought as she opened the door to her desk and Drew’s office.

  “You’re not going to call in sick tomorrow just to avoid her, are you?”

  Drew’s voice right behind her made her jump slightly. “What? Oh.” She smiled nervously. “Don’t tempt me.”

  He grinned back. “Because I have a feeling she would only track you down.”

  “You could be right.”

  He continued past her to his office door. “Well, whoever the guy is, he’s going to be very impressed when he sees you walk in tonight.”

  “Thank you.” She sat down at her desk as he disappeared into his office, and then she let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Worth every penny, she decided, fingering her new clothes as she turned on her computer.

  She was not quite so enthusiastic about them a couple of hours later when she grew tired of breathing shallowly to accommodate the skirt. Her balance in heels was improving a little, but her poor pinched toes protested every time she got up to move around. Whenever possible, she slipped the shoes off her feet and let them recuperate in hiding underneath her desk. It was just the first day of wearing them, she reminded herself. Surely it would get easier.

  In any case, it was probably time to start tackling her end of the bargain with Michael. She waited hopefully for the perfect opportunity to present itself to broach the subject of the youth center with Drew, but nothing seemed quite right. She was honest enough to admit to herself it was probably because her nervousness made her reluctant to recognize such an opportunity.

  All right, fine. She was chicken. Maybe pretending she wasn’t was the best substitution she could conjure up right now. Michael seemed to think she had moxie. Maybe she really did, buried inside herself somewhere. So what would a gutsy woman do in this situation?

  She would make an opportunity instead of waiting around for one, Shannon thought.

  So without allowing herself time to potentially back out, she got up from her desk and knocked on Drew’s door.

  “Come in,” he called out.

  “Hi,” she said as she opened the door, trying very hard to make her voice sound breezy and casual. Her mind latched onto the first thing that popped into it. “Just wanted to remind you about that benefit tomorrow night. See if you’re all set, or if you have any questions about your part in it. You know, schedule-wise or anything.”

  “No, no,” he answered, glancing up from some paperwork on his desk and looking a little surprised. “I’m ready to go. Thank you.”

  “Okay, just checking.” She stood in the open doorway, wrestling with opening lines.

  “Was there something else?”

  “I was . . . I was just wondering about something.”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s about the youth center. Last week, you seemed . . . well, I thought maybe you seemed a little concerned about it.”

  “Ah. That.” He dropped the paper he was holding onto the desk and leaned back in his chair. “It was on my mind, yes.”

  “Are you having second thoughts?”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, it has been in your family for a long time, hasn’t it? Anyone could understand why it might be hard to give it up.”

  For a moment, he didn’t answer her, and she wondered if she had inadvertently offended him somehow. But then he shook his head and smiled a half-hearted smile. “The past is in the past. I prefer to focus on the future.”

  “Sure, but—” Shannon took two steps forward into the room and caught the toe of her shoe on a snag in the rug. She gasped and fell forward, catching herself on the edge of Drew’s desk just as he started to rise to help her. “Sorry,” she mumbled, wishing the floor would open up beneath her and swallow her whole. “New shoes.”

  “Of course,” he said politely, offering her a hand as she pulled herself upright.

  So much for cool and confident. The phone on her desk rang, and she was grateful for the chance to escape. “I’d better, you know . . . ” She gestured toward the ringing phone.

  “Absolutely. Just—take it slowly.” He flashed her a quick smile and bent over his papers again.

  Shannon stepped carefully out of the room, covering her face with one hand as soon as the door was shut. Smooth as silk, Shannon, she thought sarcastically. Kicking the offending shoes off and under her desk, she answered the phone.

  There was no more talk about the youth center that day. Drew had a late lunch with business colleagues, the phone kept ringing, and Shannon found making eye contact with Drew difficult anyway after the fall in his office. At least she could honestly say to Michael that she had introduced the topic.

  “Have fun on your date tonight,” Clarissa told her with a friendly wave as Shannon left at the end of the day.

  And speaking of honesty . . .

  Technically, she had said only that she was meeting someone, right? So as long as she actually met with somebody, it wasn’t a total lie. And since she promised Michael she would keep him informed, dropping by his motel long enough to let him know the ball was rolling—albeit slowly—would fit the bill just fine. She searched her memory and came up with the name of his motel. The Piedmont Place. She would swing by on her way home.

  • • •

  A knock on his door startled Michael out of his thoughts, which was just as well. They weren’t very happy thoughts. He put the picture of his parents he had been looking at in the drawer of the nightstand and went to answer the knock.

  “Shannon,” he greete
d her with surprise, and he let his gaze travel up the full length of her. A tight skirt and body-skimming shirt confirmed what he had suspected the other day: Nice legs, nice hips—nice everything, really. His eyes finally met hers. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hi,” she said, sounding somewhat wilted. “I should have called first. Sorry.”

  “No, it’s not a problem. I’m just surprised.” He opened the door wider and stepped back to let her enter. “Come on in.”

  “Boy, you weren’t kidding about this place being a dive, were you?” she commented as she stepped inside the room with a wary look around. Faded wallpaper was beginning to peel in places, and there was precious little furniture in the room. What little there was didn’t match.

  “Yeah, it’s old. But it’s clean, if you’re wondering about whether or not to sit down.” He waved an inviting hand at the lone chair in the room, a vinyl-covered lump with stuffing poking free in places, and she sat down in it. “Been shopping, have you?”

  She slipped off her shoes, wincing as she did so. “A little, yes.”

  “Looks good on you.”

  “Too bad it doesn’t feel better. I’ll take jeans over this kind of stuff any day, and my feet are killing me.”

  Michael sat down on the edge of the bed nearest to her. “Rough day at the office, dear?”

  She rubbed one stocking-clad foot with the other. “You could say that.”

  He caught himself staring at her legs and quickly looked back up again before she could notice. “I could rub your feet for you.”

  Most women he offered foot rubs to seemed pleased. Shannon only looked alarmed, and maybe a little suspicious. “No, thank you. You don’t have to brownnose, you know. I’ve already agreed to help you.”

  “I like to hedge my bets, but suit yourself. I’d offer you a stiff drink, but everything around here comes out of a vending machine.” He started to rise from the bed. “But if you want a soda—”

  “No, that’s okay. I didn’t drop by for a drink. I’m basically here so you can make an honest woman out of me.”

  “Are you proposing? I think you’re supposed to be on one knee.”