Players

by Rachel Cross

“Ha, ha. I panicked at work and blurted out something about meeting someone after hours. Now that I’m here, it’s not technically a lie, see?”

  “I feel so used.”

  “But I also came by to tell you I did bring up the youth center with Drew. It’s not much yet, but it’s a start.”

  She had his full attention. “And?”

  “And . . . that’s pretty much it. He doesn’t seem completely thrilled with giving up the family home, but he insists he’s fine with it.”

  “You’re not giving up already, are you?” Michael asked quickly. “I mean—”

  “No, no,” she assured him. “I just didn’t get to talk to him much today.” Her cheeks blossomed faintly.

  Shannon Mahoney would make a lousy poker player, he thought to himself at the telltale color in her face. “Uh, oh. Something happened, didn’t it?”

  Sighing, she played with the hem of her skirt and shrugged.

  “What? He didn’t like your shiny new clothes? Come on, tell me.”

  “I tripped and fell on his desk,” she admitted finally.

  He tried not to smile, but it was a struggle. She looked so glum right now, he didn’t think she’d appreciate being told that there was something kind of appealing about her awkwardness. “I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you think.”

  “I fell on his desk.”

  “Could have been worse. You could have tripped and fallen in his lap.” He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Actually, that might have been better.”

  She gave him a dark look. “This isn’t funny.”

  He put on his most somber and sympathetic expression. “Sorry.”

  “Liar.” Shannon slumped further back into the sorry excuse for a chair. “I just get so nervous around him that I have trouble stringing more than three words together, and I do stupid things.”

  “You don’t seem to have that trouble with me,” Michael pointed out.

  “That’s because I don’t like you,” she replied absently.

  “Gee, thanks.”

  She looked startled. “No—I mean I’m not trying to impress you. Oh, you know what I mean.”

  “So does that kind of thing happen a lot with you?”

  “What kind of thing?”

  “Getting nervous around men.”

  “Oh. Maybe.” She averted her eyes, appearing suddenly interested in the view outside his window. Since that view consisted primarily of a row of trashcans and graffiti, he wasn’t fooled.

  He eyed her speculatively. “Look, if I say something, do you promise not to hurt me?”

  Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she turned back to him. “No.”

  “Then I’ll have to chance it. You strike me as a woman who hasn’t had a whole lot of experience with men. Am I right?”

  Her mouth dropped open. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I don’t mean it as any kind of insult. You’re a good-looking woman, and you could certainly have an active dating life if you wanted, but I’m guessing your nerves have gotten in the way of that. If I’m wrong, say so.”

  The fact that she didn’t correct him, combined with the fact she didn’t try to throw anything at him made him think he had hit it on the nose. But she did look a little embarrassed, and possibly even hurt, and he immediately felt like the world’s biggest jerk.

  He hastened to fix things. “Hey, I’m serious. There’s nothing wrong with you at all except for maybe a little social anxiety. Hell, I’ve been checking out your legs ever since you got here, and I would be happy to ogle you further if that’s what it takes to convince you.”

  “That’s so thoughtful of you.” But a flicker of dry humor had replaced the mortified look in her eyes.

  “The point I was trying to make was that if you had a little more experience with men, you probably wouldn’t be so nervous around them. Take me, for example. I’ve had plenty of experience with women by now, and I don’t even remember the last time I was nervous around one.”

  “Is this supposed to help me somehow, or did you just want to take a minute to boast about what a stud you are?”

  “Some other day maybe. I really don’t think we’d have the time it would take right now.” He grinned as she rolled her eyes. Yes, she was feeling better. “Listen, I have an idea.”

  “Why am I suddenly nervous?”

  “Hey, nobody said learning how to interact with the opposite sex would be easy. So you don’t have much experience with men. You need to start racking some up now, the sooner the better.”

  Her eyes widened. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

  “I’m not suggesting you start bed-hopping, so you can relax your grip on that chair before you snap its arms off. Just go up and talk to some guy on the street. Strike up a conversation at the bus stop. Don’t shrink away next time a man stands close to you or brushes your hand accidentally in the elevator.”

  “I don’t shrink!”

  “Really?” He held his hand out. “Here. Give me your foot.”

  She drew back. “What? Why?”

  “See? Shrinking.”

  “I wasn’t—” Shannon paused. “Okay, so maybe I was. Why do you want my foot?”

  “We’re going to do a little social experiment.”

  “With my foot?” she asked, incredulous.

  “I’m renewing my offer of a free foot massage. Nothing better than free.”

  The blush was back. “I don’t think so.”

  Michael raised his eyebrows. “Because it involves physical contact? It’s just a foot massage. Your feet, my hands. That’s all.”

  Despite his assurances, she looked doubtful. Either she was even more inexperienced with men than he originally imagined, or else she was picking up on some kind of big bad wolf vibe he didn’t realize he’d been sending out. He softened his voice just in case it was the latter.

  “Sweetheart, if you get nervous with me, a man—and I quote—you don’t even like, how do you expect to get near a man you do like without turning into a quivering mass of jelly? I’m trying to help you here. Just consider this practice.”

  After a long hesitation, Shannon finally, daintily, edged one foot toward him.

  He waited patiently for her to place her foot in his hand instead of taking it himself, suspecting it might only make her more skittish. It was a bit like coaxing a wild animal to come to him, and any sudden movements could scare her away. When she tentatively gave her foot to him, he began to knead its arch very lightly with his fingers.

  Her entire leg was rigid with tension.

  “Relax. I promise I won’t bite,” he assured her. “Unless, of course, you’re into that sort of thing.”

  She threw him a look.

  He gave her a slow spreading smile, and he thought just maybe she almost let herself return it. “Scout’s honor, I will be a perfect gentleman. I’m just trying to make a point.”

  “Which is?” she asked, warily watching his hands move over her foot.

  “That there are plenty of ways to enjoy being around a man without feeling like you’re obligated somehow to fall into bed with him. So you can let yourself have a little fun now and then without having to cross any lines you don’t want to cross. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Shannon nodded but kept her gaze on his hands instead of looking directly at him, and her shyness made Michael feel a surge of . . . what exactly? Protectiveness? He gave her foot a reassuring sort of squeeze and pressed his fingers deeper into the underside of her sole.

  It was hardly one of the most intimate things he had ever done with a woman, but somehow the fact he knew this was no small thing for her made it more of a big deal for him, too. He was careful not to let his hands drift any higher than her ankle even though the lines of her calf were sleek and inviting. It was, in fact, the most platonic foot rub he had ever given a woman, and yet his gut seemed to be tightening on him unexpectedly. Maybe he was turning into the big bad wolf. “See? Not so bad, is it?” he asked with forced casualness.


  She made a sound that was part pleasure and part surprise as he applied deeper pressure, and his gut tightened further. “That actually feels really good,” she admitted. “I think you’ve done this before.”

  “A few times.” He felt the tension in her muscles gradually relax beneath his fingers, and he felt absurdly pleased with himself.

  Leaning back in the chair, she placed her other foot on his jean-clad thigh.

  Michael started to grin, and he switched feet. “Very subtle.”

  “I learned it from my dog. Hey, you said we should practice, and I’m trying to be cooperative.” She closed her eyes and sighed as his fingers found a small knot of tension. “Yeah, this is . . . ooo . . . really not so bad. Can we practice this every day?”

  “Quick study, aren’t we?”

  There was the faintest hint of a smile on her lips. Nice, full lips. With her eyes still closed, he could watch her without making either one of them feel self-conscious.

  He liked Shannon Mahoney. There was no doubt about it. From her fiery hair to the tips of her aching toes. It was hard to believe that in a week’s time he had gone from wanting to throttle her to offering her a foot massage. But Shannon was an unusual woman. If Drew had half a brain, he would pay her a little more attention.

  Michael’s fingers slowed in their movements.

  Shannon opened her eyes then as if he had signaled the end of the massage. “So, did I pass?”

  He let her foot go, startled from his train of thought. “What?”

  “Did I shrink?”

  “Oh. No. A-plus.” He stood up from the bed and ran a hand through his hair. “Foot rubs one day, on to lotions and orgies the next.”

  “What? No stops in between?”

  Lord, but she did make him smile. He reached down to help her up, and she put her hands in his with only the briefest of hesitation. Progress, he thought as he pulled her gently to her feet. “Oh, sweetheart, there are plenty of stops, and I encourage you to explore them all further.”

  It was a small room, and the close proximity of the bed to the chair meant that Michael’s proximity to Shannon was also close. He held her hands for a second longer than he had to, until right before her eyes met his, and then he released them. Now who’s shrinking away? he thought, wondering at his behavior, and he stepped to one side to give her more room to get by him.

  She slipped her feet back into her shoes, wincing as she did so. “These things are horrible. I don’t know if I can make it through another day with them.”

  “Lose them, then.” He kind of liked the way she looked out of them, actually. “Men don’t care half as much about shoes as women seem to anyway.”

  “Yeah, maybe. Besides, another day in heels and I may be too crippled to stand up tomorrow night.”

  “Something happening tomorrow?”

  “Big charity benefit for some of the local youth organizations. A chili cook-off in the park. You haven’t seen the flyers around town? Bright orange?”

  “Guess my mind was elsewhere.”

  “Well, part of it is a bachelor auction, and your brother agreed to participate.”

  The thought of Drew being sold to the highest bidder amused Michael until another thought occurred to him, and then somehow it wasn’t as funny anymore. “You planning on bidding?” He should be encouraging her to be bold like that, and didn’t understand his reluctance to do so.

  “Me?” Her eyes widened. “I don’t have the guts or the money, especially after my shopping spree the other day. No, Clarissa insisted we go as a show of support. She and her husband are taking me.”

  “I doubt she had to twist your arm too hard.”

  “You’d be surprised,” she said under her breath, and he had to strain to hear her.

  “What does that mean?”

  She shrugged and headed toward the door. “Nothing. Forget it.”

  “Tell me,” he persisted, following her.

  Pausing at the door, Shannon put one finger to her temple as if thinking hard. “Let’s see. Go to a big party where I get to watch women with more charm, guts, and money than I’ll ever have compete with each other to see who gets to walk out of there on Drew’s arm. I had my fill of that in high school, thank you very much.”

  “Oh.” None of that had occurred to him. “Well, it doesn’t have to be like that.”

  “Why? Mind over matter?” she said with what he thought might be sarcasm, or possibly a touch of bitterness.

  “No. Just . . . use tomorrow night as an opportunity to practice what we talked about. Forget about Drew for a little while and try flirting with somebody else. Nothing serious, just have a little fun. Truth is, that could work to your advantage anyway. Drew sees you with somebody else, he might start to get a little jealous.”

  “I don’t know. That kind of game-playing reminds me of high school, too,” she returned dryly.

  “High school is over,” he reminded her, remembering the way she described her experiences at McKinley. “Whoever or whatever you thought you were then, you get to decide who you want to be now.”

  “Easier said than done. Anyway,” she said a little too brightly a moment later, “I’ll keep you posted about Drew and the youth center, okay?”

  Michael stood in the doorway and watched her leave. It was true enough, what he had just told her. But her words “easier said than done” were ones he could relate to, also. The past was a hard thing from which to free yourself.

  • • •

  Shannon got in her truck, kicked off her shoes again, and stared through the windshield. That was not the evening she expected when she decided to come here. It was supposed to be a quick chat, nothing more. How on earth had she wound up with her feet in his lap?

  It turned out to be surprisingly nice, though. And not just as a soothing treatment for her aching feet. Truthfully, she was a little sorry when he stopped. He was annoyingly perceptive about her lack of experience with men, and there had been something deliciously decadent about enjoying something so simple as having Michael rub her feet. For a moment there, feeling his hands on her and listening to the sound of his voice as he teased her, she had forgotten there was any sort of arrangement between them, even forgotten that the only reason she was spending time with him was because of Drew.

  It was entirely possible, she thought with some confusion, that despite her best intentions she was starting to like Michael Kingston.

  Chapter Six

  “Well?”

  Shannon deliberately kept her eyes on her computer screen. “What?”

  “You know perfectly well ‘what,’” Clarissa rebuked her. “Your date. How did it go last night?”

  “It wasn’t really so much a date as . . . ”

  “Coffee, drinks, meet-and-greet—whatever you want to call it. Tell me all about this guy of yours. Is he handsome?”

  “Um. Yes,” Shannon agreed hesitantly, picturing Michael in her head. “Very, actually.”

  “Smart? Funny? Charming?”

  She nodded. He was definitely that.

  “For a blind date, this sounds like it was fantastic.” Clarissa rubbed her hands together with delight. “So what’s his name?”

  Please ring, please ring, Shannon thought at her phone, but it didn’t oblige her. “He . . . you know, truthfully, I’d rather not talk a whole lot about him right now, Clarissa. No offense.”

  “Don’t want to jinx anything, is that it? All right, I can take a hint. But just tell me one more thing. Are you going to see him again?”

  “I think that’s a safe bet.”

  Her coworker sighed with happiness. “Okay, I’ll get out of your hair now. But please humor an old married lady and let me know how things go.”

  Shannon nodded, helpless to do anything else. This was a fine mess she was creating for herself here. There had to be a good way to nip it in the bud before she wound up with an imaginary husband and a couple of imaginary children.

  The phone on her desk suddenly rang, startling her
. She gave it a scathing look. “Oh, sure, now you do it,” she muttered at it before picking up the receiver. “Drew Kingston’s office. Shannon speaking. May I help you?”

  “Is Drew available? Tell him it’s Lana calling.” The voice was breezy and confident. “I’ll hold.”

  “And what may I say this is regarding?”

  “It’s a personal matter. He’ll know.” There was an impatient edge to the caller’s well-bred voice.

  Personal. Shannon knew exactly what that meant. She wondered if “Lana” had enjoyed the dinner reservations at Le Joli the other night and was briefly tempted to accidentally hang up on her. “Just a moment, please,” she said, and she knew her voice sounded frosty. Putting the woman on hold, she pressed the button for the intercom to Drew’s office while she stared at the blinking light on her phone.

  His voice answered. “Yes?”

  “You have a call on line one. Lana? She says it’s—”

  “I’ll take it. Thanks, Shannon.”

  After a moment the blinking light turned solid again, and she knew he had picked up. She also had a feeling she knew who was going to be bidding on Drew tonight.

  • • •

  Forget it. She couldn’t take the high heels for one moment longer. It would have to be flats tonight.

  Shannon reached into her closet to pull out a pair of plain white sandals and then held them up in the mirror next to one of her new purchases. It was a simple sundress, white and embellished with bits of crocheted lace here and there that gave it a vintage look. It was pretty and feminine, and totally unlike the things she usually bought. The saleslady had picked out everything else, but Shannon had chosen this one. Why, she wasn’t sure. Maybe there was a part of her that secretly longed for an occasional dose of frilly girl things to go along with her power tools.

  Dressing quickly, she glanced at the clock. She was still on schedule. It must be her nerves that made her feel otherwise. It wasn’t really Drew she was nervous about, or even this Lana, who would almost certainly be there tonight. No, she was determined to do as Michael suggested and try to ignore Drew’s presence in favor of other men, for this evening anyway. It couldn’t really be that hard, not if she jumped right in. A smile here, a joke there . . . she could learn to flirt. This would be the perfect opportunity to practice.