Then the pianist began the wedding march, and the guests rose as Sadie appeared in a stunning white gown, flowers woven into her hair, and a tremulous smile on her face as she approached Rick. Mitch was about as far from a romantic as a guy could get, but even he couldn’t help feeling a warm glow for the couple who had been through so much, were so obviously in love and were about to create a family with their two young daughters.
As the preacher pronounced the couple man and wife, the guests spontaneously burst into applause. And by the time Rick kissed his bride, most of the women, and even some of the men, were wiping misty eyes while they smiled with pure joy. Camera flashes went off and Rick and Sadie each picked up one of their daughters to make their way back down the aisle.
“That was lovely,” said Jenny, tucking her tissue back into her compact purse.
“You can’t help but be happy for them,” Mitch replied.
Then she pressed an elbow into his ribs. “Did the game go into overtime or something?”
“Sorry,” he apologized, his mind going back to the debacle of getting out of his driveway.
Truth was, he had been further delayed when a football buddy, Jeffrey Porter, his teammate on the Texas Tigers, had called on the road from Chicago. Jeffrey’s girlfriend of two years had caught him cheating and abruptly ended the relationship.
Mitch was intimately familiar with the temptation of beautiful women when a guy was on the road with the team. There was never a shortage of dates. It was one of the reasons Mitch had always avoided serious romantic relationships. If he couldn’t trust himself to be faithful, he wasn’t going to make any promises to anyone.
It was probably past time someone called Jeffrey on his behavior. Quite frankly, with the way his attention strayed, Mitch was surprised his buddy hadn’t been caught long before this. Still, he’d felt duty bound to sympathize with the wide receiver.
“What happened?” Jenny asked as the front rows of guests began surging down the aisle, following the wedding party out into the foyer.
“It was mostly the flamingos.” Mitch repeated the part of the story he’d decided to use as an excuse, while they waited their turn to exit the lounge. “Somebody obviously paid to have the flock planted on my lawn, and it was all I could do to navigate through the mess.”
She looked up at him, skepticism clear as her brows lifted above her green eyes. “What? Did they gang up on you?”
He did a double take. There was something different about Jenny today. He tried to put his finger on it.
“I took one of them out,” he grumbled. He’d been in a hurry after his phone call with Jeffrey, and one of the flamingos had scratched the front bumper of his ’Vette. He sure hoped he didn’t have to repaint.
“Did you hurt it?” Jenny asked with a carefully schooled, straight face. It was obvious she found the mishap amusing.
“It’ll live,” he responded without missing a beat. “You know, I’d have given them an extra donation without the birds,” he griped. A time-honored local form of extortion, the recipient of the flamingos was compelled to pay a donation to get the birds moved to another unwitting victim’s yard. “A phone call would have worked just as well.” He was a strong supporter of the local women’s shelter that ran the flamingo fundraiser, and he’d have happily bumped up his annual contribution.
“The flamingos are more fun,” said Jenny, turning as the people toward the middle aisle started to move. “I’ll help you pick the new target. Maybe we can plant them on Cole’s lawn next.” Cole Maddison, Mitch’s friend, neighbor and fellow TCC board member had deep pockets.
“Sure,” Mitch answered absently, still trying to figure out what was different about her.
The glasses.
She wasn’t wearing her glasses.
That was unusual for Jenny.
He wondered if she’d forgotten them, or if she’d decided the wedding was an occasion formal enough to warrant wearing her contacts. He knew she didn’t like them.
She started to walk away, and his gaze caught on her short dress. That was also unusual. She normally wore knee-length skirts, or slacks, a crisp blouse and a blazer. Jenny was as buttoned-up and tailored as a woman could get. It suited her precise and meticulous personality. But today, puffy, bold burgundy fabric swirled around her thighs. One of her shoulders was bare, and she was wearing unusually flashy earnings.
What was up?
“Jenny?”
She turned.
Holy cow. From this angle the entire package nearly took his breath away. What had happened to his no-nonsense, efficient assistant?
“Yes?” she prompted.
“Nothing.” He started to move with the rest of the crowd, embarrassed by the reaction he was having to her makeover. She was perfectly entitled to dress up for a wedding, and he had absolutely no business ogling her.
They made their way through the double doors, outside to the back of the clubhouse overlooking the expansive grounds. When Mitch stopped at the rail of the back veranda, Jenny kept going, making her way down the wide stairs toward the lawn and the gardens. He was a little surprised she hadn’t stuck by his side like she usually did. Perhaps she needed to talk to some of the Cattleman’s Club members or to some friends.
As Interim President, Mitch had been aware of the reception preparations for several weeks now. A few days ago, they’d erected a huge canopy tent in case of rain, but the Monday Labor Day evening was clear and warm. A band had set up on the gazebo, and a temporary dance floor had been built on the knoll overlooking the pond. Round, white-linen-covered tables dotted the lawn, and tall propane heaters were discretely placed throughout the dining area to keep guests warm once the sun went down.
The wedding party had assembled in front of the clubhouse gardens for photos. Even from this distance, Mitch could see the tension between maid of honor Abigail Langley and best man Brad Price. As the last remaining descendant of the TCC founder by marriage, Abigail was also the Club’s sole female member.
It was no secret that Brad resented having a woman as a full member of the Cattleman’s Club. He’d taken to using the term “cattle-people’s club,” and suggested they put up lacy curtains and buy a pink gavel for monthly meetings.
Most of the men brushed the jokes off as harmless, but Abigail had recently gotten wind of Brad’s behavior and had been highly insulted. She even challenged him in his run for TCC president. Mitch got the feeling that she avoided Brad as much as possible. But today they’d been thrown intimately together as members of the wedding party.
He scanned the sharply dressed crowd, easily spotting Jenny where she stood beside the dining area talking to Cole Maddison. She laughed at something he said, and rested her hand briefly on his arm. For some reason, Mitch felt a surge of jealousy. Ridiculous.
Just because he’d never known Jenny to date, didn’t mean she shouldn’t date. Hey, if she liked Cole and if Cole liked her…
Mitch found his feet taking him down the stairway and across the lawn toward them.
“Hey, Mitch,” Cole greeted easily as he approached.
Mitch gave his friend a nod.
Jenny didn’t glance his way.
“Nice ceremony,” Mitch offered, wondering why he felt awkward.
“I’m not sure Brad’s going to survive the night,” Cole returned, canting his head in the direction of the tuxedo-clad Brad, who was on the receiving end of a glare from Abigail.
“She’s a pistol,” Mitch agreed.
“Excuse me a moment,” Jenny put in, moving away.
Mitch’s gaze reflexively followed her as she made her way toward the bride and groom.
“That’s a shocker,” said Cole.
“What?” Mitch pulled his attention away from Jenny’s tanned legs and the sexy little sandals that accented her dainty feet. Her toenails were polished a bright plum, he’d noticed.
Cole’s expression was incredulous. “I’m talking about Jenny. She looks like a million bucks.”
“It’s a nice dress,” Mitch allowed, telling himself to get a grip. It was Jenny—sensible, efficient, professional Jenny.
“She’s a stunning woman,” said Cole. “I wonder why she dresses down all the time.”
Mitch frowned. “I wouldn’t call it dressing down. She looks completely professional at the office.”
Cole drew back. “I didn’t mean it as an insult. But you have to admit, it’s a shocker.”
What was shocking was that Mitch couldn’t seem to tear his gaze from her.
“I may ask her to dance,” Cole declared.
“With what intention?” Mitch demanded before he could stop himself.
“Intention? What are you, her chaperone?”
“Jenny’s a nice girl. Just because the woman puts on a pretty dress, doesn’t mean she’s fair game.” But even as he spoke, Mitch realized just how ridiculous his words sounded. Who Jenny danced with was absolutely none of his business. Neither was who she dated, or slept with for that matter. He was her boss, not her keeper.
Cole’s eyes narrowed speculatively. “Have you got designs on her?”
“No, I do not have designs on her. We’re colleagues. I see her every day at the office.” Theirs was a professional relationship, nothing more.
“Not like that, you don’t,” Cole muttered.
“Quit obsessing about Jenny.”
“Me?” Cole gave a hollow chuckle. “You’re the one who can’t keep his eyes off her.”
Mitch realized he was watching her yet again, marveling at her grace and glamour. He dragged his attention back to Cole, meeting the man’s smirk.
“Back off,” Mitch growled.
Cole accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, and Mitch did the same.
“Admit it,” said Cole. “You think she’s hot.”
“I think she’s efficient.” And that was all that mattered in Mitch’s world, no matter how tempting she looked tonight.
Two
Jenny’s evening had been an abject failure.
Mitch hadn’t been wowed by her new appearance. He’d barely seemed to notice her, and he didn’t ask her to dance, not one single time. Through dinner, the toasts and speeches, the cake cutting and finally the dancing, she’d grown more and more depressed.
Now that the bouquet had been thrown and the newly married couple had officially left for their honeymoon, she was going straight home to take down her hair, take out her contacts, scrub off the makeup and send the dress back to Emily via the dry cleaners. She never wanted to look at it again.
Outside in the parking lot, she hunted through the small jeweled purse for her car keys.
To think she’d felt beautiful at the beginning of the evening. She’d let Emily’s optimism rub off on her. Then, standing next to Mitch while the bride marched down the aisle, she had actually felt a little like Cinderella.
She retrieved her car keys as she made her way across the asphalt, feet aching from the high heels and a blister burning on her left baby toe. Her car was parked under one of the many overhead parking lot lights, but as she approached it, she realized something was wrong. Her taillights seemed to be faintly glowing.
She quickly inserted the key and opened the driver’s door to find her headlight switch on. She flicked it off, frowning, because it had been broad daylight when she arrived for the ceremony. She slipped into the driver’s seat, pulling the door shut and inserting her key into the ignition.
“Come on,” she muttered, holding her breath as she turned the key.
It clicked. The engine clunked. A brief grinding noise came from under the hood. And then silence.
Jenny cursed under her breath.
She tried the key one more time but was met with stubborn silence. She smacked her palms down on the steering wheel in frustration.
She did not feel like waiting for a taxi to take her home. And now she’d have to come back tomorrow and get her car. Though it was a workday tomorrow, she’d decided to call in sick for the first time in, well, ever. She was going to pull the covers up over her head and wallow in self-pity. She swore that a pint of gourmet ice cream and a sappy movie were as close as she was coming to activity tomorrow.
She scooped up her purse and reached for the door handle, when she noticed something on her dashboard. It was a folded piece of paper, and she was certain it hadn’t been there when she parked the car.
Confused, Jenny reached out and unfolded it, leaning forward and squinting in the illumination from the parking lot’s overhead light. You’ll thank me tomorrow, it said. And it was signed Emily.
Jenny couldn’t believe it. Her best friend had actually sabotaged her car? Had Emily lost her mind?
Someone rapped on the window, and Jenny nearly jumped out of her skin.
“You okay?” came Mitch’s deep voice.
Jenny crumpled the paper into her palm.
He lifted the handle and pulled open her door.
“I’m fine,” said Jenny, hoping he’d accept her answer and go away.
“Car trouble?” he asked.
She shook her head, still staring straight ahead. She just wanted to get home, away from Mitch and away from the humiliating memories of this night.
“I heard you cranking it over. Want me to take a look?”
“It’s fine,” she insisted.
He was silent for a moment. “Are you mad at me?”
“Of course not,” she lied.
“Your car’s broken down, Jenny.”
She closed her eyes for a long moment. “I know. I’m tired. I was going to call a cab.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Pop the hood.”
She turned to look at him. “You’re not exactly dressed for mechanical repairs.”
He glanced down at his pristine white shirt and silk tie. “Good point.” Then he held out his broad hand. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”
Jenny glanced around the parking lot, desperately searching for someone else who could serve as her knight in shining armor. The very last thing in the world she wanted right now was to spend more time in Mitch’s company while he failed to notice the new, improved and sexy Jenny. But nobody else was around to save her.
“I’ll just go back inside,” she began.
“Will you stop?” He reached down and snagged her hand, drawing her gently but firmly from her vehicle.
She grabbed her purse and came steady on her feet just as he slammed the door shut behind her, obviously annoyed. Well, she was annoyed, too. Even if he hadn’t been bowled over by her chic new look, he could have at least complimented something. The hair, the dress, the shoes. But he couldn’t even throw her a crumb.
He kept hold of her hand. “This way.”
She spotted his sleek, gleaming Corvette parked haphazardly next to the front garden. “That’s not an authorized parking spot.”
“I was late. I’ll pay the fine tomorrow.” He swung open the door. “Now, get in.”
She huffed out a breath, and braced her hand against the back of the bucket seat, stepping one foot inside the car and nearly losing her balance on the high heels.
His arm snaked around her waist, and she felt her dress hike high on her thighs. Her bottom pressed against his leg as he braced her steady.
“I’m fine,” she ground out.
“You’re grumpy,” he responded, a trace of humor in the voice that was close to her ear.
“Will you let go?” Her pulse was doing unnatural things under his touch. Her face flushed hot, and her knees suddenly felt unsteady. She determinedly pulled herself into the car.
He let her go, and she dropped onto the seat. She quickly straightened her skirt, covering as much of her thighs as possible. Then she glanced down to catch an expansive view of her cleavage. She adjusted the shoulder of the dress and tugged at the bodice.
Mitch had paused, watching her, the door still open. But she refused to glance up. He was probably laughing at her clumsiness.
After a long moment, he stepped back
and firmly closed the door, moving around to the driver’s side. There, he climbed inside without a word, started the engine and pulled the sports car smoothly out of the parking lot.
As their speed increased, the overhead lights flashed above them, alternating with the branches of stately oak trees lining the street. The silence stretched out between them. A mile farther down, they turned off River Road to take the shortcut along Rooster Lane. Given the potholes and sharp gravel on the little-used road, and Mitch’s deep love of his Corvette, Jenny could only assume he was in a hurry to get rid of her.
Fine by her. She couldn’t wait to get home.
Then, abruptly, he pulled off the road onto a grassy patch beneath the oak trees, rocked the car to a halt and set the emergency brake.
“What are you doing?” she asked in confusion, wondering if something was wrong with his car. Surely, Emily couldn’t have sabotaged them both.
But he turned in his seat, draping his arm across the back of hers. “Spill, Jenny. What’s wrong?”
His abrupt question took her by surprise. But she quickly regrouped. “I’m tired and I want to go home.” That was definitely part of the truth.
“You’ve been acting weird all night,” he pressed.
“I have not.” She folded her hands primly on her lap.
“You didn’t even dance with me.”
The accusation in his voice made her own tone rise along with her blood pressure. She spoke past a clenched jaw. “You didn’t even ask.”
“I had to ask?” he retorted.
“It’s kind of traditional.”
“Like you needed extra partners,” he scoffed.
She turned to look at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means—” he gestured with one hand “—the way you’re dressed tonight, there was a line around the block.”
“Nice that some people noticed.”
His eyes glittered in the dash lights, and there was a long moment of tense silence. When he spoke, his voice was a throaty rasp. “You think I didn’t notice?”
An After-Hours Affair Page 2