“Somebody thinks we control the traffic lights?”
“Apparently. Can you get right on that? The letter writer believes it’s a serious problem.” She glanced up to see not just Mitch, but Mitch, Jeffrey and two other men that she vaguely remembered from the football team clustered in the doorway.
Her face heated. “Uh…”
Mitch strode into the room. “Jenny, these are some of my teammates. Emilio, Nathan and you already know Jeffrey.”
“Of course I do. Hi, Jeffrey.” She greeted the other two with a smile and a nod.
“Hey, Jenny.” Jeffrey made his way around the table toward her.
The man named Emilio spoke up. He was huge, with an impossibly deep chest, jet-black hair and no discernible neck. He took in the piles on the boardroom table. “You ever want an administrative job with a football team, I’ll give you a good reference.”
“Back off,” Mitch growled. “I’d be lost without her.”
Jenny ruthlessly reminded herself that Mitch meant in a professional way. On the personal side, she was just another in a long line of dalliances.
“It’s easy enough to see why,” said Nathan. He was blond, and slighter than the other three, with a wide, white smile. “Great to meet you, Jenny.”
“I’m giving the guys a tour of the clubhouse,” Mitch explained. “But, do you want some help here?”
She quickly shook her head. “I’m almost done. The boardroom’s booked by the Hospital Fundraising Auxiliary at ten tomorrow, and I wanted to make sure my mess was out of the way.”
Jeffrey moved closer. “I don’t mind lending a hand.”
“Ten minutes, tops,” Jenny assured him.
“Then I’ll still be around and help you carry it all back to the office,” said Jeffrey.
Mitch stepped in, an edge to his voice. “Leave everything here. We’ll move it after you’re done.”
“But—” She caught Mitch’s expression and stopped short. “Sure. Okay. Give me fifteen?”
“We’ll be back,” said Mitch.
Nathan spoke up. “And then you can come to dinner with us.”
“Barbecue at Mitch’s place,” Emilio sang, clapping Mitch on the shoulder with a meaty hand.
Jenny automatically cringed, knowing it was Mitch’s injured shoulder, and that he’d had a physio session scheduled for this morning. But, other than a slight tightening of his lips, Mitch didn’t react.
“And bring Emily,” said Jeffrey, doing a mock golf swing. “We’re hitting the links first, and I need to show off to someone.”
Jenny couldn’t help but smile at that. She appreciated Jeffrey’s happy-go-lucky approach to life. “You mean a hundred thousand screaming fans doesn’t do it for you?”
“We don’t have a game this week. Besides, I prefer my adoration up close and personal.”
“Fifteen minutes?” Mitch confirmed, with a scowl at Jeffrey.
Jenny noticed that Mitch didn’t echo the dinner invitation. Just as well. The last thing she needed was to hang out and get personal at Mitch’s house. It had been a long week, with Jenny sticking carefully to professional topics only, fearing he’d bring up matchmaking again.
After the men filed out, she quickly finished the data entry, saved everything to the server and shut down her laptop. She took it back to the office, fully intending to clean up the boardroom and escape before the men made it back from the clubhouse tour.
Her plan failed.
She met them in the hallway on her second trip, her arms full of paper.
“I thought I told you to leave it,” Mitch barked.
She immediately understood her blunder. Mitch had been trying to help her graciously exit. He’d expected her to leave the mess and clear out before they got back.
“Sorry, boss,” she mumbled, feeling foolish. She could have escaped, should have escaped. This was one time when she should have ignored her instincts to finish a job before leaving work.
“It’s not a problem, Mitch,” Nathan put in. “I’ll grab the rest, and we can head over to the golf course.”
They all looked expectantly at Jenny.
“Um.” She bit down on her lip, mind scrambling for an excuse. She’d never been a good liar, and trying to do it under pressure made it that much worse. “I don’t think I can—” Her glance darted automatically to Mitch.
“Mitch wants you to come.” Emilio clapped him on the shoulder again.
This time Mitch did cringe with obvious pain. “Of course you’re welcome to come along, Jenny. Call Emily. Let’s make it a party.”
“Emily’s hot,” said Jeffrey, and Nathan and Emilio each gave a whoop of approval.
Mitch turned on them. “If you guys are going to behave like children…”
The men immediately sobered and shook their heads. “Nope. Not us. We’ll be perfect gentlemen.”
“Listen,” Jenny put in. “It’s not the most convenient day for me—”
“Call Emily,” Jeffrey interrupted. “I want to impress her with my 9-iron.”
Nathan and Emilio guffawed, and Mitch compressed his lips.
“I’m going to assume you didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” Jenny couldn’t help putting in.
“Absolutely not.” Jeffrey gave Nathan a shove with his shoulder. “I meant it literally.”
Jenny looked to Mitch once more. His eyes were softer this time, and there was a hint of a smile on his face. “You want me to call her?” he asked.
“I can do it,” Jenny capitulated.
There was every chance Emily would enjoy meeting Mitch’s other teammates. They were certainly larger than Cole. Emilio, for example, could probably give her some monster, future linebacker sons.
Emily and Emilio.
It could work.
Since Mitch had his own clubs, he waited outside the pro shop while the attendant got the others outfitted.
To his surprise, Jenny joined him there. She’d avoided him as much as possible all week. And when they did end up together, both of them danced around each other, keeping the conversation strictly business. Mitch knew he should step up and make good on his offer to matchmake. It would be better for both of them if she was taken by some nice guy who’d give her that dream life. But he couldn’t seem to bring himself to do it.
She came closer now, lowering her voice, suspicion written all over her face. “Please tell me this isn’t a setup.”
He kept his own tone low. “You think I’ve set you up to look bad at golf?”
Her expression shifted to a look that clearly questioned his intellect. “Not golf.”
It took him a moment to realize she was talking about the matchmaking. And in that instant, he realized he could never do it. He especially couldn’t set her up with his friends or teammates. Because, if Jeffrey or one of the other guys actually did date her, fall in love with her and marry her, there was a good chance Mitch would end up lusting after a friend’s wife.
If that happened, he’d have to move to Mongolia. He didn’t think they played a lot of ball in Mongolia.
“It’s not a setup,” he assured her.
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“I’m not even the one who invited you along.”
“You didn’t uninvite me, either.”
“And you didn’t come up with an excuse not to come. Even though I gave you every opportunity.”
“I’m a bad liar. Sue me.”
She was right about that. Jenny was smart, efficient and dedicated. But she couldn’t tell a lie to save her life.
“I think Jeffrey likes you,” Mitch found himself taunting.
He didn’t know why he did it. Frustration, maybe. Or maybe he simply wanted to elicit an emotional reaction. Jenny was back in her uptight clothes, white blouse, pressed slacks, her glasses perched on her nose, her features carefully controlled.
He wanted more. And it worked.
Behind the glasses, her green eyes blazed defiance. “Well, I like Jeffrey.”
“Darn right, it’s good.”
“Then he can golf with us. Hey, Jeffrey. You, me and Jenny. The rest of you can make a foursome.”
Cole, who had met up with them when Mitch picked up his clubs, beamed at the groupings. There was no denying he had a thing for Emily. The woman didn’t seem inclined to give him the time of day, but Cole was nothing if not tenacious. And as a baseball player in football-crazy Royal, he’d dealt with adversity his entire life.
“You’re golfing with me?” Jenny demanded.
“How else am I going to throw you at Jeffrey?”
“But you said—”
“I guess I lied.”
After a moment’s silence, she stuck her prim, little nose in the air and gave a toss of her sleek hair. “Fine. Go for it. Throw us together. Let’s see what happens.” She sashayed back to the clubhouse.
Watching her leave, Mitch’s hand tightened on his golf bag. Despite his threat, he was not going to throw Jenny and Jeffrey together, not today, not ever.
Every instinct he had told him to go after her and claim her for himself. But he had no right to do that. So instead, he hoisted his clubs and stalked toward the cart parking area.
He stuffed his clubs in the back of a cart and sat down to cool off.
When he saw the other six approach, Emilio and Jeffrey each with two golf bags on their broad shoulders, he realized he’d left Jenny to manage her own clubs. What the hell was the matter with him? Jenny was going to think he was a cad.
He sighed.
Just as well.
She might as well know the truth.
He turned on the cart ignition, while Jeffrey climbed in beside him, and Jenny sat stiffly down in the backseat.
“We’re going to tee off first,” said Jeffrey.
That made sense, since the three of them would complete the game faster than the other four.
They drove to the first tee.
Mitch’s first swing sent his ball to the far end of the fairway, while Jeffrey’s hit the green. Jenny’s shot came up short, off in the rough, only a third of the way down the fairway.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, shoving her 3-wood back in the bag.
“You need a few pointers?” asked Jeffrey, swinging himself into the backseat of the cart to sit next to her, leaving Mitch to be the chauffeur.
“Sure,” she responded with what sounded to Mitch like enthusiasm.
“She’s doing fine,” Mitch intervened. “The poor woman’s up against two pro football players.”
“Doesn’t mean she can’t improve her stance and her follow-through,” Jeffrey argued.
Mitch spent the next six holes watching Jeffrey play the attentive instructor to Jenny the naive golf student. He had her listening with rapt attention, concentrating, improving her swing, laughing at her own mistakes, while Mitch’s mood darkened along with the clouds rolling in from the Gulf.
On the seventh fairway, the first raindrops splattered down.
“Let’s finish this one and head back,” Mitch called down the fairway to Jeffrey, relieved that the torturous afternoon was about to end.
He waited while Jenny lined up a shot on the far side of the fairway.
Suddenly, thunder split the sky above them, lightning tracing its way across the arc of the black clouds.
“Don’t swing!” he yelled to Jenny, abandoning his ball to sprint toward her.
She twisted her head to stare at him in confusion.
He pointed to the sky. “There’s lightning up there. Your club’s a conductor.”
As he reached her and snagged the club from her hands, the skies opened up above them.
Mitch quickly glanced around for shelter. “The gazebo,” he called, grabbing her hand to make a run for it. The golf cart was farther away, where Jeffrey had left it on the path.
Jeffrey saw their move, and dashed in the same direction.
By the time the three of them made it to the small open-sided cedar gazebo, it was pouring rain, and they were soaked to the skin.
“Crap,” Jeffrey sputtered, running his hand over his wet hair and shaking out the droplets.
Jenny was in a short-sleeved white blouse, topping a pair of pale gray slacks. The blouse clung to her torso, outlining a lacy bra.
Jeffrey’s brows went up as he took in an eyeful, but Mitch stepped between them, warning Jeffrey off with a glare.
Mitch quickly stripped off his navy golf shirt and handed it to Jenny.
She looked perplexed. “What are you—”
“You’re translucent,” he explained.
She glanced down. “Oh.”
“Put it on, Jenny.”
She snagged the shirt from his hand and tugged it over her head, settling the hem around her thighs, then finger combing her damp hair.
“I didn’t expect to go swimming,” she huffed.
Jeffrey grinned, peeping over Mitch’s shoulder. “No complaints from me.”
“Back off,” Mitch warned.
“It’s a forty-dollar bra.” Jenny brushed off the incident. “Models wear them on the runway all the time, in nationally televised shows no less.”
“You want to give me my shirt back?” he challenged.
“Not really.” Then her gaze froze for a moment on his bare chest.
He dared to hope she liked what she saw. Then he gave himself an instant rebuke. How would that be good? This physical attraction between him and Jenny was the root cause of all their problems.
The lightning flashed, the thunder boomed and the rain came down even harder.
“You want me to go get the cart?” Jeffrey offered.
“We might as well wait it out a few minutes,” said Mitch. “This might not last long.”
Jenny’s cell phone rang.
She pulled up the tail of Mitch’s shirt and dug into the pocket of her slacks. “It’s probably Emily. I hope they’re all okay. Hello?” she said into the phone.
She listened for a moment, eyes narrowing, mouth turning into a frown.
“Everything all right?” Mitch couldn’t help but ask, but she waved him to silence and turned her back.
He glanced to Jeffrey, whose brow furrowed in concern. Had somebody been hurt?
“Uh-huh,” Jenny was saying, her tone grave. “No. No, I don’t.” Her free hand went to her forehead, and Mitch reflexively stepped toward her.
“Jenny?” He put a hand on her shoulder.
“As soon as I can,” she said without acknowledging him. “Yes. Of course.” She blew out a breath.
“Jenny?” Mitch repeated.
She turned to him, her face pale, hands shaking as she lowered the phone. “My house is on fire.”
“What? What happened? Who was on the phone?”
“My neighbor. It was a lightning strike.” Jenny held up helpless palms. “The roof burst into flames.”
Mitch grabbed her phone before it could slide off to the floor. “Has the fire department been notified?”
“They’re on the way there.”
“I’ll get the cart,” said Jeffrey, bounding down the two stairs to sprint across the course.
Mitch reached out to touch Jenny’s arm, longing to pull her into his embrace. “No pets, right?”
“That’s what Clara, my neighbor, asked. No. No pets. I’m allergic to cats.”
Mitch hadn’t known that. He tried to rub the chill from her shoulders. “It might not be so bad. The rain will help put the fire out. And the fire department’s close by.”
Jenny nodded numbly. Then she seemed to gather herself. “You’re right. No sense borrowing trouble.” She gave a decisive nod. “We need the facts. Let’s get the facts, and go from there.” She stepped away from his hand.
Mitch’s protective instincts nearly blinded him. Jenny belonged in the comfort of his arms, not standing there all alone and dripping wet, trying to cope with the disaster that had suddenly befallen her life.
He made a
move toward her, giving in, anticipating the feel of her small body against his.
But Jeffrey was pulling up in the cart. And Jenny was darting for the gazebo stairs. And the moment was gone.
Six
Red-and-blue lights flashed against the chaos that was once Jenny’s home. A dozen firemen sprayed water into her windows, where orange flames leaped out in the darkening evening. Neighbors stood on the sidewalks, huddled under umbrellas, avoiding the runoff that had turned to a gushing river cascading down the street. The rain remained steady, but Jenny barely noticed.
Emily linked an arm with hers, squeezing tight. “Thank goodness you weren’t home.”
Jenny swallowed. She hadn’t thought of that. But it was true. If the guys hadn’t invited her to go golfing, she might have been sitting in her living room, directly below the lightning strike.
She shuddered reflexively at the thought.
“It’s going to be okay,” Emily continued.
Jenny nodded, trying to force her rational mind to engage. There was a lot to be thankful for here.
“I know,” she finally said. “Nobody was hurt. And everything else is just stuff. It can all be replaced.” She paused, a dark shot of humor piercing her numbness. “It’s not like I had boxes of precious mementos from my happy childhood.”
“Okay, that was impressive,” said Emily.
“What?”
“You. Looking on the bright side so quickly.”
Jenny shrugged. “I suppose I could curl up in a fetal position somewhere and cry instead.”
“Many people would.”
“I think I’m in shock.”
“Yes, well, that’s to be expected. You’ve got insurance, right?”
Jenny nodded. She was well insured. Everything being destroyed by the fire could be replaced.
Her brain automatically began to catalog the possessions in her house. She started in the living room, where the fire was worst, then she mentally worked her way through the dining room, kitchen and bedroom.
“We are going to have to replace my new wardrobe,” she pointed out to Emily.
An After-Hours Affair Page 7