Barbara Dunlop - An After-Hours Affair

“Not that bad? ”

Emily braced her hands on Jenny’s shoulders. “He can’t read your mind. All he knows is that the two of you had a one-night fling. If it was an unemotional fling for him, there’s no reason it wasn’t an unemotional fling for you. He wants to put it behind you. You do, too. Case closed.”

“Case closed?” Jenny found her voice trembling.

“You’re a logical woman, Jenny. And putting it behind you makes good sense. Heck, you’ve seen him a dozen times since that night. You’ve made it through the awkwardness. The tough part is over.”

“Yes.” Jenny forced herself to nod in agreement. The tough part was over. She’d do her job, professionally and thoroughly, just like she’d always done. Mitch was diplomatic. She could be just as diplomatic. And she’d keep her emotions well away from anything to do with Mitch.

“You going to let him fix you up?” asked Emily.

“Not a chance.”

“You want Cole?”

“I think of Cole as a brother.”

An odd expression flitted across Emily’s face. “Really?”

“He’s a sweetheart.”

“He’s stubborn as a mule. I think it’s short-man syndrome.”

“He’s barely under six feet. And he’s incredibly fit.” Jenny knew that Cole was involved in martial arts. He also still played baseball, and he loved the outdoors.

“Whatever,” said Emily. “He’s off the list. Fortunately for us, there are still ten million other men in Texas.”

And Jenny was going to be happy with one of those ten million men. She was going to find someone kind and honest, who was as interested as she was in building a loving family.

It was nearly four o’clock the following Saturday. Jenny was at the Cattleman’s Club offices, finishing work on her database before the office opened up again on Monday. She’d taken over the big boardroom, spreading the membership correspondence out in a way that wasn’t possible at her desk.

Her laptop was at one end of the oval table, and she had letters, emails, reports and drawings sorted in neat piles over its expanse. She was almost finished with the metadata, and she’d already scanned each of the paper documents to provide easy access for the Board of Directors.

“Jenny?” Mitch’s voice echoed from outside in the hallway, footsteps coming closer. “Is that you?”

“In here,” she called, trying hard not to react emotionally to his presence. She’d never had any problem with equanimity before, dealing with all kinds of people on all kinds of issues. But with Mitch logic and reason seemed to fly out the window.

“What are you doing here?” he asked through the doorway.

“I needed to finish up and get this table cleared off,” she replied without looking up. She pointed from pile to pile in explanation. “Letters against a new clubhouse. Letters against a female president. Pledges to vote for a female president. Letters in support of a new clubhouse. Suggestions for elements of a new clubhouse. And, actual spec, architectural drawings of a new clubhouse. Oh, and these ones are miscellaneous, save the whales, ban antibiotics in dairy cattle, nationalize the high-tech sector and turn the stop sign at Fifth and Continental into a traffic light. I wasn’t going to include them in the database.”

“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.”