Babe was tugging Janie’s glasses off her nose. “I know a little something about makeovers myself.” Then, without warning, they both dove for their handbags and grabbed bottles of makeup, tweezers and containers of eyeshadow. Janie could only sputter as they began to smear and spread, highlight and pluck.
Unable to do anything but sit still for fear one of her eyeballs would get poked out, she put up with it for a few minutes, then tried one more time to protest. “Guys, I can’t…”
“Yes, you can!” they both said as they each took an arm and spun her around. They were watching while she caught a glimpse of her reflection in a mirror hanging over her desk.
And at that moment, spying the exotically made-up woman with the upswept hair, the shadowed eyes and the full, reddened lips, Janie began to wonder if they might be right after all.
A few days later
RILEY HADN’T thought much about the fact that he hadn’t been laid in ages until he noticed the brunette in red. The woman was sitting a few tables away at Diamond, his favorite restaurant. He’d watched her come in, her nicely curved body nicely displayed in the sparkly cocktail dress that revealed a mile of leg. Not to mention a mouthwatering hint of delicate cleavage.
Riley’s heart had skipped a beat when she’d entered the place. It’d skipped another when he heard the soft, lyrical sound of her voice talking to the hostess as she’d approached.
She was a beauty, but a quiet one. A classy, petite, perfectly formed feminine package, and she’d made every masculine cell in his body come to attention. Instantly.
For some reason, he’d felt a flash of recognition, as if he knew her. But he knew he didn’t. He’d definitely have remembered a woman as sultry as this one.
Sipping his beer, he’d ignored the voice in his head that tried to convince him his celibate streak ought to end, because she had to be meeting someone. But as the minutes had stretched on, no one had joined the woman. He couldn’t believe any man would stand her up, but it looked as if that’s what had happened.
Since she was seated facing him, he surreptitiously noted the slender neck and her high cheekbones. Her delicate face was almost heart-shaped, framed by a mass of rich brown hair. Highlighted with streaks of gold, her hair was pulled back except for a few long curls brushing her shoulders.
Then there were the eyes. Wide-set, big and brown, like dark chocolate. With her lush red lips the color of ripe raspberries, he couldn’t stop thinking of the ice cream the shop around the corner had named after him. And how much he wanted to lick her juicy lips and to taste that creamy vanilla skin.
“Enjoying your evening, Mr. Kelleher?” a smooth voice asked.
He shook off his study of the stranger and glanced up to see the owner of the place. Rumor had it she was about to remarry Donovan Ross. “Yes, thanks, everything’s wonderful, as usual.”
“I was glad to hear you’d be dining with us,” Callie Andrews said. “Though I do wonder why you never bring anyone with you.”
He hadn’t been tempted to bring anyone anywhere—into this restaurant, into his life—for a long time. So why he couldn’t stop focusing on the brunette, he had no idea. “Can’t get a better steak in Louisville,” he said, speaking to Callie, though his attention was glued to the female four tables down.
The female who suddenly looked up and caught him staring.
Riley almost looked away. His first instinct was to break the visual connection and let his attention casually roam over the other diners in the restaurant. Evade. Avoid. Walk away.
That had been his strategy for some time now. Evade emotional traps. Avoid potential complications. Walk away from anything that could be construed as genuine personal interaction.
Even sexual interaction was something he didn’t think about too much these days. Sure, in the first year after he and Bronwyn, his first wife, had split, he’d taken solace in the arms of any attractive woman he’d wanted. But it hadn’t helped. He’d quickly realized he was being stupid…as selfish and self-indulgent as his ex had been. So he’d gotten back on track, determined to remain private, unattached. Detached. Except for his family, he’d let no one come close. It just wasn’t worth the risk.
It had worked. Pretty much.
He and the stranger continued to watch one another. Riley noted the way her eyes flared and her mouth opened as she sucked in a quick breath. Her pink tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and a slow flush of color rose from her neck up her cheeks. Not a flush of embarrassment…their staring hadn’t disconcerted her. But a warm rush of heat. As if she’d sensed he’d been undressing her in his mind, considering letting go of his rules and his self-imposed exile from anything resembling romance.
Then she smiled. A tiny smile…a welcoming smile. A come-here-and-buy-me-a-drink-and-I’ll-make-your-night-divine smile.
Oh, man, he was in trouble.
“So what have you been doing with yourself?” Callie asked.
“We’ve been on the road a lot.”
“Don’t I know it,” she mumbled.
Smiling, Riley lifted his beer mug. “Been missing Donovan?”
“Desperately.” She quickly glanced side to side, as if afraid she’d been overheard. Lowering her voice, she added, “But don’t tell the big jerk I said that. His head’ll swell too much to fit through the door.” The sparkle in her eyes told him Callie wouldn’t have her ex-husband any other way. That she adored him.
A sharp stab of want hit Riley in the gut. Damned if he was a jealous man, and he didn’t covet Donovan Ross’s fiancée. But maybe, deep down, he coveted that feeling Ross must have when he looked at the woman he loved and knew she loved him just as much.
He’d never had that.
Oh, he’d loved, but as for being genuinely loved in return? Well, he didn’t know if any guy in his position could ever be sure of that. Because most women they met were after a notch on their own player’s scorecard. Or a big fat alimony check, like the one he wrote out every month, which was the real cherry on the sundae since he’d been the wronged one in the marriage.
The judge hadn’t cared. And the media hadn’t bothered to question Bronwyn’s claims that Riley’s off-the-field playing was responsible for the breakup of baseball’s favorite sweethearts.
Those closest to him—his parents, brothers, good friends—knew the truth. To hell with the rest of them. He’d long ago realized people would believe what they wanted to believe.
Shaking off the memories, he glanced at the stranger again. She was sipping red wine, which left her lips ripe with color.
“She’s very attractive, isn’t she?”
He should’ve known the restaurant owner would pick up on his not-so-subtle interest. “Yeah,” he mumbled.
“Want an introduction?”
