Shirley Jump - How the Playboy Got Serious

She’d seen his picture in the papers with the girlfriend of the minute, heard other women talk about him with an actual swoon in their voice. As far as she could tell, the youngest McKenna hadn’t followed in the family traditions of meaningful work or charitable organizations. Unless attending every party in the greater Boston area was considered giving back to society.

Stacey avoided men like Riley McKenna like the plague. She’d learned a long time ago that a nice smile and charming words were merely a cover for deeper flaws. Thank God she’d woken up before she married such a man. She’d known Jim for years, and fallen for his charismatic ways over and over again. He’d proposed on a Sunday and left town on a Tuesday—

With a girl he’d met the night before. She’d been fooled for so long, blind to his lies, because she’d wanted to believe in that smile. It had taken her a year to get over the betrayal, and from here on out, Stace would avoid men like that, thank you very much. And that meant avoiding Riley McKenna. And his smile.

Riley nearly always sat in her section and ordered an omelet. Not one of the dozen combinations on the menu, but always something of his own creation, which drove Stace crazy but didn’t seem to bother Frank. She knew, from the lackadaisical way he ate his breakfast and the dozens of phone calls she’d overheard where Riley discussed the latest hot party or vacuous date, that his life was about as serious as confetti.

And on top of that, he seemed to think flirting was on the menu. He teased her, smiled at her, and had asked for her number once. Typical. Thinking every woman was just going to fall at his feet.

To her, perpetual flirt Riley McKenna was just another entitled bachelor in a city teeming with them. A man whom she suspected hadn’t seen a hard day of work in his life, and never appreciated the hard work of others.

“How are you, Frank?” Riley shot them both a grin, then slid onto one of the counter stools.

“Good, good,” Frank said. “And you?”

Riley’s smile faltered. “I’ve had better days.”

“Well, if it’ll make you feel any better, I’ve got apple pie on the menu today,” Frank said.

“Not today, thanks. Unless you’re giving out free samples. I’m, ah, currently between funds right now.”

“You?” Frank asked. “What, did you spend too much on a date last night?”

“Something like that.” Riley gave Frank the cocky grin he gave everyone. The grin that said he’d probably spent his night bedding yet another in a long string of blondes. Stace kept on working. And ignoring him.

Stace soaked a cloth in disinfectant cleaner then started wiping down the pale yellow laminate counter. There wasn’t much time before the lunch crowd began to filter in, and lots to do.

“I’ve been out looking for a job,” Riley said.

“I take it the job search hasn’t gone too well?”

Riley’s grin raised a little on one side. “I’m not qualified to do much.”

Frank laughed. Stace restrained herself from issuing a hearty agreement. “I’m sure you’ll find something that works for you,” Frank said.

“Actually…” Riley began.

Something white caught Stace’s eye and she raised her gaze to see what it was. She froze.

“I thought I’d apply here,” Riley said. He lifted the Help Wanted sign in his hands, the same one that had been in the window just moments before, and gave Frank a smile. “I figure I eat here enough, I might as well earn my keep.”

Frank arched a brow. “You want to be a waiter? Here?”

“Yup. Consider this my official application.” Riley slid the sign across the counter.

Frank sent Stace a glance. She mouthed “no,” and waved her hands. Frank wouldn’t dare. He’d said he’d hire someone, but surely he wanted someone with experience, someone who would be a help, not a hindrance. Someone who had a good work ethic. “Frank…”

Frank grinned at her word of caution, then turned back to Riley. “I told Miss Stace here that I’d hire the next person who walked through that door—”

He wouldn’t.

“And since I’m a man of my word—”

He couldn’t.

“You’re hired, Riley McKenna.” Frank reached over and clapped Riley on the shoulder. “Welcome to Morning Glory Diner. Stace here will be glad to show you the ropes.”

He did.

Stace plastered a smile she didn’t feel on her face, and faced her worst nightmare. An irresponsible womanizer who was going to make her life a living hell.

CHAPTER TWO

ONE day, two tops, Riley figured, and his grandmother would call him back to McKenna Media. Riley could have called in a favor with a friend, but that wouldn’t prove he could do anything other than pick up the phone. Sure, waiting tables wasn’t the ideal job, but it would do for now, and prove his point to his grandmother that he wasn’t the irresponsible man she thought him to be. He looked around the bustling diner. He’d wanted a challenge, something a little different.

And this fit the bill to a T.

So Riley donned the black apron imprinted with Morning Glory Diner on the pocket, grabbed an order pad and pen, and crossed to the first set of customers he saw. Before he could even open his mouth, that waitress—Sally, Sandy—rushed over and nearly tackled him. “You can’t take this table.”

“I’m doing it. Watch me take their order, too.” He clicked the pen, and faced the two construction workers whose broad frames nearly filled either side of the booth. Beefy guys in dusty T-shirts and jeans. “What can I get you guys?”

The first one, a nearly bald fiftyish man wearing a bright yellow hat emblazoned with Irving in thick black marker, gave Riley an are-you-an-idiot look. “Menus.”

Riley glanced down and realized he had forgotten that important first step. No problem. He’d get it right the next time. This was waiting tables; it wasn’t rocket science. “Right. Those would be helpful. Unless you just want to make up an order, and I’ll zip it back to Frank in the kitchen.” Riley thumbed toward the kitchen.

Sally/Sandy smacked his arm. “You can’t just make up food. I’ve told you that a hundred times.” Then she turned to the two men. “I apologize. He’s new. Probably won’t last long. Let me get you some menus.” She turned on her sneakered heel, and started to walk away, then thought better of it, and grabbed a fistful of Riley’s shirt and hauled him backward.

Riley’s feet tangled and nearly brought him to the ground. “Hey, hey, hey! What are you doing?”

“Getting you out of there before you do any more damage.” She stopped by the hostess station, snatched up two menus, then released Riley. “Stay.” She punctuated the word with a glare. “And I mean it.”

“Woof.”

The glare intensified, then she stalked off, handed the menus to the customers, and returned to Riley’s side. “Hey, all I did was forget menus. You’re acting like I committed a federal crime,” he said.

“Just stay out of my way and we’ll get along just fine.”

“I’m supposed to be making your life easier.”

“Well, you’re not.”

She started to walk away, but he caught up with her and turned her to face him. “I was hired to help you.”

“Well, you’re not.”

He eyed Sally/Sandy. He’d had the pretty blonde as a waitress a dozen times, and though he’d tried his best to get to know her, she’d resisted. Maybe she hated him. Why?

Maybe because he’d never learned her name, something he now regretted. And couldn’t remedy because she didn’t have on a name tag.

She was a beautiful woman with a petite, tight body and a smile that rarely made an appearance. She had wide green eyes, long blond hair that he’d only ever seen tied back, and a quick wit. He’d seen her friendly banter with other customers, and wondered why she’d always been cold with him on the dozens of occasions when he’d eaten here.