Tracy Wolff: Unguarded

He paused at the realization, a chip halfway to his mouth. Maybe Rhiannon was right about his emotional development being slightly arrested. He should probably work on that if he expected her to see him as more than a potential client.

“So you’ve told me the kind of party you usually throw. What’s your favorite kind of party to attend?” Rhiannon asked, finally setting the laptop aside.

“Same thing—beer, chips, football. It’s all good.”

“Well, if that’s really the case, why are we throwing such a fancy party? Why don’t we throw one you might actually enjoy?”

He laughed. “It’s March—no football.”

“That’s not what I meant. What if you throw a really relaxed party—jeans, casual food, games. It would be totally different than they’re used to, and it could be a lot of fun.”

“What, you mean, like a barbecue?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t gotten that far yet. But a barbecue could work.”

“I know it’s a sin to live in the South and say this, but I’m not a big fan of charred meat and potato salad. The whole barbecue culture gene kind of passed me by.”

“You know, barbecue doesn’t have to mean beans and brisket next to an open fire. A good steak could be classified as barbecue.”

He shook his head. “That’s not really my point. Changing the type of meat served doesn’t change the barbecue culture. I’m not into it.”

“All right then. I get it. No barbecue.” She went back to the computer, clicked a few times. “So are you opposed to the idea of a casual party altogether, or just one that involves ‘charred meat and potato salad’?”

He was about to shoot her idea down in its entirety, though it pained him to do so—in his experience, women weren’t at their friendliest after a man told them he thought their plans were less than impressive. And there was little he wanted more than to have Rhiannon in a friendly mood.

But her idea was so far from what he’d been thinking—and from what Anthony expected—that he didn’t feel like he had a choice. But then she turned the computer around and pointed to a couple of menus that were as far from a typical Texas barbecue as you could get, but that were a lot more interesting than the fancy hors d’oeuvres he was used to getting at parties like the one his agent expected him to throw.

“You can do gourmet pizzas on the grill?” he asked skeptically.

“Caterers can do just about anything on a grill these days—including dessert. Don’t you ever watch the Food channel?”

“I don’t, no. I’m more partial to movies myself. Give me a good horror movie and I’m happy.”

Her smile was slow coming, but when it finally arrived, he’d felt as if he’d scaled Mount Everest. It was a real smile, one that warmed her eyes and brought her dimple out in full force, and it made him happy just to watch how it lit up her face. He had a feeling Rhiannon didn’t smile much—at least not out of genuine amusement. It felt good to be the one to put a smile on her face.

“I’m partial to slasher films myself.”

“Oh, yeah? Which ones?” He felt his curiosity pique. It was the first personal bit of information Rhiannon had revealed about herself.

She named a couple of movies he’d enjoyed enough to buy on DVD, and they spent the next few minutes talking about them—debating level of gruesomeness and special effects and story line. Rhiannon was surprisingly knowledgeable about the genre, which made him wonder if he’d misread her reaction to his novels. Any woman who liked the films she did also had to be partial to a good superhero story. That same suspension of disbelief was a requirement for any true action movie fan.

He was about to invite her to a movie that was opening on Friday night when she once again steered the conversation back to business. “So, if I come up with a casual menu that is also impressive, will you consider having a less formal event?”

“Sure. If you can come up with a really great idea, one that’s fun and casual and impressive all at the same time, we’ll try your route.”

“Fun, casual and impressive all at the same time, hmm? You don’t ask for much.”

“Oh, Rhiannon.” He shook his head, shooting her a wicked grin. “I’ve barely gotten started on the list of demands I have for you.”

SHE NEARLY CHOKED on her water. As it was, the slightly tangy liquid went down the wrong pipe, burning from the back of her throat all the way to her lungs. Her eyes watered and her chest ached, but she did everything she could not to cough—it so wouldn’t do to let Shawn know how blatantly he affected her. He was already cocky and charming and full of mischief—the last thing she wanted was to encourage him.

Liar, a little voice inside of her said. There was a small part of her that wanted to do exactly that, that wanted to say to hell with logic and responsibility and fear. God knew, he’d been flirting with her since she’d sat down. Would it be so terrible if she responded in kind? It’s not like the world would end if she showed some interest.

The very thought robbed Rhiannon of her recently recovered breath, had her heart beating in a stressed-out syncopation. Who was she kidding? She could barely handle meeting new clients in the middle of a bustling party—how did she think she’d manage flirting with a gorgeous, younger man when the two of them were on their own?

It was too absurd to even contemplate.

And if her baggage wasn’t bad enough, trying to step out of her self-imposed cocoon with a man whose event could spark a rush of business for Parties by L.K. was just asking for trouble. When it went bad, when she quickly made a total and complete fool of herself because she couldn’t handle the pressure—and there was little doubt in her mind that she would freak out eventually—how humiliating would it be to still have to see him? To still have to work with him and pretend that she was anything but the basket case she was? Or worse, to run into him at other parties. The upper-crust Austin social scene was a relatively small one, and she really didn’t want to spend the next few months worrying about whether or not Shawn was going to be at one of the events she was planning.

She drew a couple discreet breaths in through her nose, praying he wouldn’t notice her distress—or the pain that was ripping through her upper torso because she was too stubborn to cough. He didn’t say a word as she struggled, and she began to hope he hadn’t noticed how he’d affected her. But when she finally made it on the road to recovery, it was to find Shawn watching her with amusement. “You okay there?”

So much for discretion. Was it too much to ask to sink through the floor before she died of total and complete humiliation?

“Fine, thanks.” Her eyes were still watering and her voice was hoarse, but at least she’d gotten the words out.

“Good. I’d really hate for something to happen to you before the big night.” He winked, and as she stared into his wicked blue eyes, she suddenly wasn’t at all sure he was still talking about the party.

“I can take care of myself.”

“I never meant to imply that you couldn’t.”

“So, Shawn.” Rhiannon took a deep breath and contemplated the best way to steer the conversation back toward the party. “Have you thought about what venue you want to use? Austin has a number of great places—”

“I just figured we’d use my house. It’s plenty big.”

“For a hundred people to mingle comfortably?” Where did the man live? The only houses in Austin big enough for that were on the Lake, and surely his graphic novels didn’t pay enough to make that a reality—

“I’ve got two acres on Lake Travis. I bought it a couple years ago as an investment, but it’s a perfect place to entertain. The house is huge and there’s a gigantic yard that overlooks the lake.”