It kind of was, Taryn thought, but it was also really, really funny. Sam Ridge, all-star kicker and multimillionaire, had the worst luck when it came to women. If there was a femme fatale in a fifty-mile radius, Sam found her and fell for her. He’d experienced everything from a stalker to an ex-wife writing a near tell-all to having his girlfriend sleep with his best friends.
“I’m waiting for him to fall for a transvestite,” Larissa said with a grin. “Poor Sam.”
“I don’t get it,” Taryn admitted. “He’s smart and insightful. But when it comes to women, he can’t seem to find anyone normal.”
“What about you?” Larissa asked, her tone teasing. “Met anyone tempting?”
The question was meant as a joke. Taryn knew that. She rarely dated. She liked guys, she slept with them, but she didn’t get involved. There was no way she was trusting her heart or any part of her psyche to some man. Talk about stupid.
Except when Larissa asked her question, Taryn immediately thought about Angel. And thinking about Angel meant she wasn’t thinking about anything else and she couldn’t seem to make her mouth move to form the words What? A guy? With me? No way.
Larissa put down the frying pan she’d just unwrapped and stared at her friend. “Oh my God. What? You met someone? Who is he? Tell me everything.” Her big blue eyes widened. “Is he local? Like a single dad.” She sighed. “That would be so romantic. Some sweet guy with a couple of little kids. Like a car mechanic or maybe he owns a little grocery store and they live upstairs. He still misses his wife, but he’s ready to move on. Only I don’t know how you’re going to feel about the kids.”
Taryn stared at her. “You don’t need me here for this conversation, do you? A widower with two kids and a grocery store? That is not happening.”
Larissa’s shoulders slumped. “Why don’t you like him? He’s so nice.”
Taryn held in a scream. “There is no grocery store guy. You made him up. What’s wrong with you? Jeez. The only guy I’m interested in is a former black ops sniper with a scar like somebody slit his throat.”
Larissa handed her the frying pan. “I’d rather date the guy who owns the grocery store.”
“The one who isn’t real?”
“You always focus on the wrong stuff. So tell me about Sniper Man.”
“There’s not much to tell.”
Taryn starting putting plates and bowls in the cupboards, knowing that wasn’t going to be close to enough to distract her friend.
“There’s something,” Larissa told her. “You’re attracted to him.”
“Maybe. Yes. A little.” She sighed. “At least he’s a widower. That should make you happy.”
She’d learned that much at least. But it was hard to get information without telling people why she wanted it, and she wasn’t ready to tell the world that she thought Angel was hot.
“It’s something. But he won’t buy a grocery store?”
“Larissa, I beg you. Stop.”
Larissa smiled. “Everyone thinks you’re tough, but you’re really not.”
“I can be, just not with you.”
“Okay, this Angel guy. You’re dating?”
“Not exactly. We’re sizing up each other.”
“What does that mean?”
Taryn thought about Angel’s announcement that he was good at waiting. A little ripple of anticipation shimmied down her spine as she wondered when he was going to make his move. He was making her wait on purpose, and she respected that. He wanted the game to be intriguing...for both of them.
“I have no idea,” she admitted. “But I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”
* * *
ANGEL PUT THE copy of the bridal magazine on the desk. Ford stared at him in disbelief.
“Just like that?” his friend asked. “Did you wake up thinking this would be a good day to die?”
“She’s engaged,” Angel said, grinning. “She’s wearing an engagement ring. I’m celebrating the moment.”
Ford held up both hands in a classic move of surrender, but Angel was feeling adventurous. Lately, he’d had the sense that everything was going his way. The answer to the Dirty Harry question of “Do I feel lucky?” was yes. He did. It didn’t matter that the movie had come out a year before he was born. He could relate to the character. When in doubt, a bigger gun usually got the job done.
Consuelo, their petite colleague, walked into the office. She looked at the magazine, then at the two of them.
“It was him,” Ford said, pointing at Angel. “He did it.”
Angel glanced at his friend. “Is that how things are now?”
Ford inched toward the door. “Law of the jungle, bro. While she’s feeding on you, I can make my escape. Isabel and I are trying to make a baby. I want to be around to see my kid grow up.”
Consuelo, all five feet two inches of muscle and determination, picked up the magazine, flipped through it, then put it back on the desk. She smiled at Angel. “Thanks. That was thoughtful.”
He shot Ford a “See?” look, then moved toward her. “I know you and Kent got engaged. I hope you’ll be very happy together.”
Consuelo stepped into his embrace and hugged him. When he drew back, she casually stepped to the side, grabbed Ford by the arm and flipped him onto his back. He landed on the floor with a thud. When he could breathe again, he sat up.
“Hey, what was that for?” he asked in a tone of outrage.
“For being cynical. You’re married and you should know better.”
Consuelo turned her back on him, picked up the magazine and headed for the door. “I’ll be back after lunch,” she called.
“It’s not even ten,” Ford grumbled as he climbed to his feet. “Why does she get to leave?”
Angel chuckled. “You want to tell her she can’t?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so. Come on, we’ll head out, too.”
“Where are we going?” Ford asked, falling into step with him.
“To a nursery.”
“Baby or plant?”
“Plant. I ordered an orchid a couple of months ago. It’s in and I have to sign the card so it can be delivered.”
They went outside.
“Why would an orchid take two months to get here?” Ford asked.
“It’s rare. I wanted a specific one.”
From Thailand, Angel thought. An orchid known for its contrasting colors. The outside of the flower was the palest pink, but inside was a dark violet blue. The unusual shade was nearly the exact color of Taryn’s eyes.
“Why do you care about flowers?”
Angel glared at his friend. “What’s with you today? Stop asking questions. Are you coming with me or not?”
Ford leaned against his Jeep and grinned. “Someone’s not getting any. You always get moody when you’re not getting laid.”
“Shut up.”
“Thanks for illustrating my point.”
* * *
TARYN PARKED HER car and collected her briefcase. She’d gone through paperwork the previous evening, had caught up on emails and then been in bed by ten. As a personal life went, it was beyond sad. She needed to get out more, make some friends. As she’d told Larissa the previous day, people in town were certainly nice enough. The women had all been friendly. It was just...
She started across the parking lot and sighed. The town wasn’t the problem, she admitted, if only to herself. She was. She had trouble making new friends. She didn’t trust easily, so sharing any part of herself was difficult. She’d had more than one man point out that after seeing her for several weeks—and by seeing, he meant sleeping with—the guy in question knew absolutely nothing more about her than he had when they’d first met. She never bothered to tell them that was the point. If they were too stupid to figure that out, why should she waste breath telling them?
She hadn’t wanted to leave Los Angeles, but she’d been outvoted. Score was now located in Fool’s Gold. She had to make the best of the situation. More important, she needed to get her life moving again. There had to be more to her days than work.
She heard the sound of a basketball steadily hitting the sidewalk and ignored it. But Sam was nothing if not persistent and he quickly caught up with her.
“Driving to work?” he asked. “You live a mile away.”
She paused and faced him. “Have you seen my shoes?” she asked. “I’m wearing Charlotte Olympia pumps with a five-inch heel. Could you walk to the corner in them? I don’t think so. Besides, you can’t talk to me today. I’m taller.”
Sam sighed. “It’s going to be one of those days, isn’t it?”
“You betcha.”
She flashed Sam a smile, then disappeared into their building. He walked across the street to the basketball court the guys had insisted be part of the remodeling. Not even a half-court, like at their last office. No, this was regulation size. She didn’t know what it had cost and she didn’t want to know.
Had any of her business partners been with her, she would have grumbled to them about how annoying they were, but as she was alone, she paused to look out the window. The three of them, Kenny, Jack and Sam, all wore baggy shorts and T-shirts. Sam, six feet tall and muscled, looked small next to the other two, but he was fast and used his brain when he played. Kenny and Jack mostly reacted. Which explained why Sam usually kicked their butts.
They fought for the basketball, and then Sam ripped it away, turned gracefully, jumped and scored. As she watched, Taryn realized that the boys needed more than each other, too. The same three guys playing basketball a few mornings a week couldn’t be that much fun.
She started toward her office. When she was at her desk, she picked up her phone but set it back in the cradle. She told herself the guys were well into their thirties and could take care of themselves. That she didn’t want anyone—namely Angel—thinking she was angling to find ways to see him. Of course telling him this wasn’t about him would only make him think it was. She sighed and picked up the phone again.
“CDS,” a man’s voice said.
“Justice Garrett, please.”
“Speaking.”
“Hi, Justice, I’m Taryn Crawford. I know your wife. I’m a partner at Score, here in town.”
“Right. Patience has mentioned you. The PR firm with the football players.”
“That’s us.” This was stupid. She felt like a mom trying to set up a playdate for her socially awkward child. Except despite her grumbling about the move, she really did want the guys to be happy. They might annoy her from time to time, but they were all the family she was ever likely to have.
“You have ex-military guys employed there,” she began. “They like to work out and stuff?”
There was a pause. Taryn could present a multimillion-dollar PR presentation to the most uptight skeptic with no problem. Why was this so hard?
“Was that a question?” Justice asked.
“No. Okay, so you know about Jack, Kenny and Sam, right? Former football players. They’re still competitive and...” She told herself to get to the point. “The guys have a new outdoor basketball court. They play a few mornings a week. I thought you and your guys might like to join them.”
There was another pause, then Justice chuckled. “My guys and I would like that very much. I hope yours aren’t sore losers.”
Taryn grinned. “Nice try. Your team is so going down.”
“We’ll see about that. What time do they start?”
“Six. Day after tomorrow.”
“We’ll be there.”
She hung up, feeling more than a little proud of herself. She logged in to the company’s remote data storage and downloaded the work she’d done the previous night, then updated several accounts.
At nine, she met with her graphics and design people. Her team of six was the heart of the organization. All presentations came out of that office, including graphic design, layout and videos for sample commercials and promotional spots.
There was also Sam’s staff of two accountants who ran all the numbers; Taryn’s assistant who doubled as the office manager; Larissa, Jack’s personal assistant and the boys’ private masseuse; along with Kenny and Sam’s assistant.
When Kenny, Jack and Sam had first come to her about moving to Fool’s Gold, she’d warned them that they would lose valuable staff. One of the few times in her life when she’d been wrong when it came to business, she thought. Everyone had been excited about relocating. Taryn had been the lone holdout.
Who could have guessed that carefully selecting family-oriented, well-adjusted employees would come back to bite her in the butt? she thought with a grin.
Her assistant stepped into her office. “They’re ready for you.”
Taryn followed her into the smaller conference room. Sam, Jack and Kenny were there, freshly showered after their morning game—because part of the remodeling had included putting in a locker room. Make that two, because while Taryn never planned to bathe at work, she’d insisted on equal facilities for the women. So they, too, had large showers, lockers and a steam room. The difference was she never insisted on holding meetings in the steam room, while the boys had on more than one occasion.
Now she walked to the far end of the table and opened the laptop there. Then her gaze settled on Jack, who had chosen not to dress after his shower. He sat at the conference table in a white robe and flip-flops.