Teresa Southwick - In Good Company

He looked genuinely surprised. “Why?”

So many reasons. None of them she wanted to share.

“Guys are probably lined up to take you out.”

“Not really.” Damn that little glow starting in her belly.

“Molly, I’d have taken you to your reunion even if you hadn’t bid on me.”

Recently he’d told her she was a knockout. And the geeky adolescent still lurking inside her desperately wanted to believe he meant what he’d said. But she’d believed him once and paid a high price, in self-esteem and trust.

Now she’d made a deal with the devil—or rather, devil-may-care Des. She needed to guard her emotions carefully. To do that, she’d have to keep her mind on the reunion, and only on the reunion.

But just this once, as she closed the door behind her, she’d revel in the intensity burning in his blue eyes as he watched her walk away.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

lives with her husband in Las Vegas, the city that reinvents itself every day. An avid fan of romance novels, she is delighted to be living out her dream of writing for Silhouette Books.

This is your chance to find the right one for that “honey do” list!

Could you use a weekend warrior? Ex-U.S. Army Ranger Riley Dixon is the guy for you. He’s donating a survival weekend guaranteed to get your heart rate up.

What about that home repair you’ve been putting off?

Dashing Des O’Donnell, former Charity City High football hero, now owner and president of his own construction company, is offering a repair of your choice.

Personal security issues? Defend your honor?

Savvy Sam Brimstone, recently of the LAPD and a hotshot detective, is your man.

These are just a sampling of the jaw-dropping guys available to the highest bidder. Ladies, don’t miss the chance to buy a guy—no strings attached.

Cash, Check, Credit and Debit cards gratefully accepted by the Charity City Philanthropic Foundation.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Charity City, Texas

Mid September, two weeks before the bi-annual town auction

Desmond O’Donnell was back. Like the Terminator. Or a bad penny. Or both.

Molly Preston watched him walk past her classroom window, wishing he looked like a troll. But, where Des O’Donnell was concerned, her luck had never been that good. Now was no exception. All she could see was his profile and that was still to die for.

She was dabbing green paint on construction paper with one of her kids, when he entered her classroom and began looking around. She took a good look, too. The rumor mill had been working overtime since Des had returned to Charity City, and reports of his hunk quotient bordered on the stuff of urban legend. The reports were annoyingly accurate.

Ever since she learned the Charity City Foundation had awarded First Step Preschool the money for a new wing of classrooms and Des had won the contract to build it, she’d known their paths would cross. Again. But he’d picked a bad time to drop in. Not that any time would have been especially good, but it was craft time for her pre-K kids and when paint was involved, it was always uncharted territory. On top of that, a handsome stranger’s appearance was like a shot of adrenaline to her four-year-old charges.

They weren’t the only ones. Her twenty-five-year-old hormones whipped her heart into a serious palpitation. And her hands were sweating. She was no good around men—never had been, never would be—especially not around one who looked like he should be on the cover of Carpentry Quarterly.

Still, she’d been preparing herself to deal with him. But this time she wasn’t an overweight, orthodontically challenged, four-eyed high-school girl, easily dazzled by the PHAT—pretty hot and tempting—captain of the football team.

This time, she was a woman, and a professional. More classrooms meant more kids getting a head start on learning—a start that would make them kind, caring and productive members of society.

Seeing Des again was no big deal. Probably he was no longer a jerk. Probably there was a Mrs. Des at home. Besides, Molly was so over him. She was prepared to be polite and helpful because there was no longer any reason to hate his guts.

Brave self-talk, but as she walked over to the man from her past who was standing just inside the classroom door, her tongue felt suddenly three sizes too big for her mouth.

“Hello,” she managed to say.

“Hi. I’m Des O’Donnell from O’Donnell Construction.”

That sounded an awful lot like an introduction. Their previous acquaintance, such as it was, would suggest dispensing with introductions. She blinked, then stared at him, waiting for some hint of recognition on his part. She saw none.

When she didn’t say anything, he continued. “I’ll be building the new wing for the preschool and I’m here to look over the construction site.”

“I see.”

“This classroom will be affected. In the office I was told that this is Polly Preston’s room. That would probably make you Miss Preston. May I call you Polly?”

“Sure.” Her stomach knotted but her inner smart aleck picked up the slack. “But I can’t promise to answer.”

“Oh?”

“My name is Molly. Molly Preston.”

“Sorry. My mistake.”

He didn’t look sorry, Molly thought, then reminded herself she didn’t need to be snarky because she didn’t care. “No problem.”

He grinned his charming grin and that was a problem. “Nice to meet you, Molly.”

Clearly he didn’t remember her or her name. She wasn’t sure whether or not that was more humiliating than him taking a payoff to date her. After a socially dismal beginning to her freshman year, her father had paid Des to date her and ensure her high-school popularity. Des should have gone into acting. He’d pulled it off without her suspecting a thing. She’d never have known his interest in her was a sham if a disgruntled girlfriend hadn’t ratted him out.

Des had used her as a stepping stone to success. He’d got what he wanted, then hadn’t had the decency to break it off with her face-to-face. He’d simply stood her up then left for college.

Screw the high road, she decided. His betrayal had unraveled the fabric of her self-esteem. Now he didn’t even remember her? She would never be grown up enough to not care about that, and she felt justified in her crabbiness.

“Yeah, nice,” she lied. “Look, Mr. O’Donnell—”

“Des,” he interrupted.

“Des,” she repeated, annoyed at how easily his name slipped from her lips. She hoped that only she noticed that her voice had dropped into the seductive range on the single syllable.

Time had been good to Des O’Donnell. He’d always been the stuff of girlish fantasies. Now he was a man, with the filled-out physique to prove it. His chest-and-biceps-hugging navy T-shirt brought out the extraordinary sapphire blue of his eyes. She remembered that his hair had a natural wave when he needed a haircut, which he didn’t at the moment. She missed the curl. Once light blond, his hair had changed color over time. Somehow, the darker shade suited him better.