Barbara Dunlop - An After-Hours Affair

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?”

“You were dancing with him.”

“Only till I could get rid of him.”

Jenny pointed. “Over there. Behind the pillar.” She started to move, but Mitch held on, causing her to trip again.

“How many martinis did you drink?” he asked.

She looked up at him, blinking her long lashes as if to bring him into focus. “I ordered two. But I barely sipped either of them. Why?”

“Because you’re a lightweight,” he murmured.

“Thank you.” She nodded sarcastically. “I just lost three pounds.”

He couldn’t stop a grin at her joke as he ushered her forward to where they could meet up with Cole. “Time for bed, princess.”

As they passed Jeffrey, the man shook his head, chuckling darkly at Mitch. “Assistant. Right.”

Mitch threw a surreptitious elbow into Jeffrey’s rib cage.

“I’m starving,” said Jenny from the third-row seat in the chauffeur-driven Escalade as they sped along the shore of Galveston Bay.

Mitch twisted his head to look at her. “That’s probably a good idea. A little food in your stomach along with the liquor.”

“Will you stop,” Jenny huffed. “I sipped on two teeny little martinis. I’m just hungry because it’s late. Look.” She pointed out the tinted window, turning her head as they cruised past the red neon sign. “Cara Mia Trattoria. And it’s open.”

Cole spoke up from the bucket seat next to Mitch’s in the middle row. “If she can read Italian, she can’t be that bad off.”

Jenny smacked the back of Cole’s bucket seat. “I’m perfectly sober, people.”

Cole grinned, while Emily gave a shrug. “I could eat.”

Mitch turned forward to address the driver. “Can you take us back to Cara Mia?”

“Of course, sir,” the uniformed man responded. He checked the rearview mirror, then pulled a U-turn in advance of an upcoming red light, taking up the right-hand lane, before signaling to pull up to Cara Mia’s front door.

As the SUV came to a smooth halt, Mitch handed the man a twenty-dollar tip.

“Thank you, sir. You have the service’s number?”

“I do,” Mitch confirmed, yawning the door open.

“We’re on duty for the team until three.”

Mitch nodded his thanks and stepped out of the vehicle. He turned to offer his hand to Emily, who’d been sitting behind him, but his gaze moved reflexively to Jenny’s flirty skirt as she exited from Cole’s side.

“They have a deck,” she announced as she rounded the back of the SUV. Wisps of hair had worked loose from her knot and curled enchantingly around her bright face. “Do you think we can sit out there?”

Mitch curled her arm around his own, steadying her across the cobblestone drive. “I’m sure they’ll let us sit wherever we want.”

She inhaled. “I love the ocean.”

Wind bent the palm leaves, and rolling waves sounded rhythmically in the distance.

“Fresh air’s probably good for you,” he observed while she disentangled her arm from his and stepped toward the restaurant stairs.

The hostess wove her way in front of them through the crowded tables on the restaurant’s deck. She showed them to a view table, overlooking lighted gardens, an expansive lawn and stone walkways that led down to a sandy beach. The tide was in, and the surf was up. Propane heaters warmed the air, and a floral centerpiece anchored the billowing white cloth on the round table.

Jenny plunked into a padded wicker chair and snagged a leather-bound menu.

A waiter filled their water glasses and offered cocktails, but they all opted for iced tea.

“Isn’t that gorgeous?” Jenny’s attention was distracted by the tiny pink lights decorating the flower gardens. In an instant, she was on her feet, crossing to the rail of the sundeck for a better look.

“Chicken marsala pizza?” suggested Cole. “With avocado and eggplant.”

Emily peered over her menu at him. “What is that? Like, nerd pizza?”

“Are you calling me a nerd?”

She smirked. “Just commenting on your taste in pizza.”

“Well, what do you suggest?”

“Sausage, ham, peppers, mushrooms, onions, pepperoni.”

“What are you, pledging a fraternity?”

“It’s a classic.”

“You want me to order a pitcher of draft to go with it?” asked Cole. “We could have a chugging contest.”

Emily stuck out her tongue at him.

Mitch chuckled low at the pair’s antics, glancing to check out Jenny at the rail of the deck.