“Thank you. Mitch would have drilled it straight to me, saved me a bruise or two.”
“You think?”
“Don’t get me wrong. Cooper’s a decent quarterback. But Mitch is psychic.”
Jenny drew back. “Psychic?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Does he ever give you any stock tips?”
It was Jeffrey’s turn to laugh, and his brown eyes crinkled up at the corners. “Wouldn’t that be something?”
“My 401(k) could sure use the help.” Jenny spotted Emily across the dance floor in Cole’s arms. In her ultrahigh heels, they were nearly nose to nose. Her expression looked tense, her movements stiff, and Jenny couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong.
“My salary’s just fine,” said Jeffrey. “But I expect my career to be short.”
Jenny’s attention went back to Jeffrey. “You do? Is something wrong?”
“I’m going by the mathematical odds. It’s tough out there.”
Jenny cringed reflexively in sympathy, remembering some of the hits Jeffrey had received in the game. She leaned in. “Are you in pain?”
“I’m always in pain. But that’s not the same as being injured.” He nodded toward the perimeter tables. “Now, Mitch there. He’s injured. And his physiotherapy regime is brutal.”
Jenny glanced sideways to where Mitch stood in a group of other players. He gazed intently at her, with what looked like anger simmering in his darkened eyes.
She missed a step, but Jeffrey quickly caught her, tugging her close. “Whoa, there, missy.”
“Sorry,” she breathed, refocusing her attention. What on earth was the matter with Mitch now?
Four
Mitch watched from the sidelines at the Moberly Club, while out on the dance floor Jeffrey flirted with Jenny. Though he knew she was too smart to be taken in by Jeffrey’s smooth talk, he was tempted to warn her away from the man. Or maybe he should order Jeffrey to stay away from her. It might be his responsibility to make it clear, in no uncertain terms, that Jeffrey was to stay well away from his assistant.
He straightened away from bar, intending to do just that.
“Well, hello, stranger.” A tall, leggy blonde sidled up to him.
“Misha,” he greeted, recognizing the former wife of one of Houston’s many oil executives. “I didn’t know you were in town.”
“Back from Paris last week,” she purred, resting her elegant, manicured hand on the arm of his suit jacket. She was a former model, born and raised in Germany. She’d had a brief but profitable marriage in Houston. Word on the street was that he’d ended up with the sports cars, while she got the Tigers’ season tickets.
“Would you care to dance?” he asked dutifully, even though he’d prefer to spend his time confronting Jeffrey.
“But, of course.” She took his hand and moved to the dance floor.
Misha, it turned out, had spent the past few months traveling, perfecting her tan in Tahiti, visiting a game preserve in South Africa and dedicating a new museum wing in Prague. She offered to show him her all-over tan, but Mitch graciously declined.
His next dance partner was just back from St. Kitts. It seemed she’d bought a little bungalow beside the ocean. She’d taken up snorkeling. She throatily informed him there was a hot tub on the balcony of her hotel suite, and then hinted that she’d like to show him how long she could hold her breath.
Mitch honestly didn’t remember these parties being quite so crass. By midnight, all he wanted to do was head for the hotel, take an aspirin and crawl under the covers.
Alone.
But then his gaze caught Jenny.
She was in the corner talking to Emily, being handed another martini. A green one this time. She seemed to have developed a taste for exotic drinks. And he didn’t know what had gotten into her with the clothes lately.
That short skirt showed off her incredible legs, and their navy silhouette made a man’s mind go all kinds of places. She’d worn her contacts again, and her ornate earrings sparkled whenever she moved her head. His gaze rested on the shimmering peach tank top, making out the rounded curves of her breasts against the slinky fabric. It was obvious she’d forgone a bra.
He couldn’t remember ever seeing her braless. Then again, he supposed he hadn’t been looking. Why was he looking now? What the hell was the matter with him? What, exactly, would it take for him to learn his lesson?
He caught sight of Jeffrey. The man was heading in Jenny’s direction again, a predatory gleam in his eyes. This time, Mitch did make his move. And he didn’t let anyone stop him along the way.
“Jeffrey,” he greeted heartily, falling into step with the man.
“Hey, Mitch. Glad you could make it.”
Mitch would just bet Jeffrey was glad he’d shown up with Jenny. “I see you’ve met Jenny.”
Jeffrey frowned. “I’ve met her lots of times before.”
“You didn’t dance with her before.”
“Her hotness factor’s gone way up in my books.”
“You keep her out of your books.”
Jeffrey turned his head to look at Mitch. “Huh? What are you talking about?”
“She’s my assistant, you moron. Keep your hands off her.”
“We were only dancing.”
Mitch shot Jeffrey a dark look. “You’re talking to me here, Jeff.”
Jeffrey gave a sheepish smile. “Point taken.”
“She’s a nice girl.”
“Then she’ll slap me across the face, won’t she?”
“You give her any reason to slap you across the face, and your face will be meeting up with my fist.”
Jeffrey sputtered out a laugh. “So says the cripple.”
“I’ve still got my left.”
In answer, Jeffrey looped an arm over Mitch’s shoulder. “Careful, buddy. You’re starting to sound territorial.”
“I told you, she’s my assistant.”
“And that’s all she is?”
“Absolutely.” If Mitch said it out loud often enough, maybe it would come true.
“Why don’t I believe you?”
Probably because Mitch was lying. “Because your brain’s in the gutter.”
“Your brain and mine have been partying together down there for quite a few years.”
Mitch spoke slowly and deliberately. “Not with Jenny.”
“Hey, Jenny,” Jeffrey sang out as they approached. He did a few mock dance steps, making her smile. “Got time for one more spin around the floor?”
Jenny turned and stumbled ever so slightly on her high-heeled boots, bracing herself against the bar. Her green eyes were bright, her smile more dazzling than usual. Mitch had seen her with only the two, but how many drinks had she had?
“We have to head out,” Mitch interrupted before she could answer. If there was any chance her judgment was clouded, Jeffrey was the last guy she needed to be around.
“It’s barely midnight,” Jeffrey protested.
“We’ve planned an early flight in the morning,” Mitch lied again. They could take the jet back to Royal anytime they wanted. But he stepped up beside Jenny, threading her arm through his.
“Cole around?” he asked Emily.
The woman sniffed her delicate nose. “How would I know?”
