“Shut up.”

“That might look good,” said Emily. “Really, what the heck?”

Jenny smiled, and Mitch’s chest went tight. It was a perfectly natural reaction, he assured himself. He’d never claimed that he didn’t admire Jenny, only that he wasn’t any good for her. He wanted her to be happy. She deserved it.

Nine

The awards had been handed out by the governor, the speeches made, dinner was finished and Mitch’s distinguished plaque for the Youth Outreach Award was parked with the others on a table for attendees to admire. As the best days in Mitch’s life went, this would probably rank as the worst.

He’d made it through his short speech, thanking all the right people, but all he could see was that Jenny was with Jeffrey instead of him. And echoing inside his brain were his doctor’s words from earlier this morning. His worst fear had been realized today. Mitch was never going to play football again.

He hadn’t said a word to anyone, and now he was standing on the sidelines as the dancing began, accepting congratulations from friends, acquaintances and strangers while watching Jenny in Jeffrey’s arms.

He should have talked her into the gray wool blend instead of the rainbow silk after all. He resented the way the delicate dress flowed around her sexy legs, a splash of color in a sea of monochrome. Her hair was styled in a crown of braids, wisps flowing free over her temples and along her neck. And she’d found a pair of white silk sandals. The heels were higher than he’d pictured, but they were strappy and delicate, rhinestones winking around her slim ankles.

She was perfect, and it was all for another man.

He took a deep drink of his single malt.

She disappeared from his view, and he reflexively shifted, nearly knocking into an older gentleman in a tux, who scowled at Mitch, his bushy brows drawing together. Mitch gave a perfunctory apology, not particularly caring that the man might be someone important.

He wove his way through the crowd, trying to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t a pro football player anymore. What was he now? Just a guy with a nest egg and no career, whose services would soon not even be required at the TCC. They’d have a new president, and Mitch would have little to do and nothing of value to contribute to the community.

He came closer to the edge of the dance floor, telling himself to stop wallowing in self-pity. But watching Jenny laugh in Jeffrey’s arms made everything that much worse. Jeffrey should let go of her. He needed to let go of her right now. In Mitch’s raw, emotional state, he needed Jenny in his arms, not in his teammate’s.

Scratch that. He and Jeffrey weren’t teammates anymore.

Mitch stuck his glass on an empty tray stand as the music changed from one song to the next. The band was sticking to classics, with the occasional jazz tune tossed in. No pop and no rock, and apparently no country, even though this was Texas.

When the floral arrangements were two feet high, the main course was Kobe beef and Newfoundland lobster, and the average carat weight per woman was in the low double digits, he supposed Keith Urban was out of the question. Still, he had an urge to scoop Jenny up, get rid of his bow tie and jacket, and head for the nearest honky-tonk where they could kick back.

He craned his neck, scanning the floor. Where had she gone?

“Having a good time so far?” came Jeffrey’s deep voice.

“A blast,” Mitch responded drily, determinedly swallowing his misery, bracing himself for an up close view of Jenny in the dress. But when he turned his head, she wasn’t with Jeffrey.

“She’s out on the dance floor.” Jeffrey had correctly interpreted Mitch’s expression.

“You left her there alone?” That was even worse.

“She’s got a new partner.”

“Who?” Mitch demanded.

Jeffrey chuckled. “I didn’t get his name.”

Mitch strained to look, but couldn’t catch a glimpse of her dress. “You didn’t tell her I was going to be here, did you?”

“Was I supposed to tell her that?” Jeffrey accepted a glass of wine from a passing waiter.

Mitch declined another drink. “I saw her expression of shock when my name was called at the podium.”

“Yet she wasn’t sitting anywhere close to you.”

“Don’t get cute. I thought you would have given her a heads-up is all.” Mitch took a step back to get out of the line of circulation around the dance floor.

“Why didn’t you tell her yourself?”

“I barely saw her this week.” Except in the office. And in the office, they were being careful to stick to business.

“She told me about the dress,” said Jeffrey.

“That was Cole.”

“Cole said it was you.”

“Cole has a big mouth.” Mitch changed his mind about the wine and caught the next waiter who came by.

“So, why are you turning yourself inside out watching me dance with her?”

Mitch grunted a noncommittal answer. So he didn’t want Jenny at the mercy of a player like Jeffrey. That was simply good taste.

“You don’t want to date her,” Jeffrey pointed out, watching Mitch a little too closely.

“Of course I don’t want to date her. But I don’t want you to date her, either.”

“Noble sentiment. If you were her father, and if this was the nineteenth century.”

“Ha, ha,” Mitch mocked.

“Seriously, Mitch. Am I making my point out there?” He cocked his head to the dance floor. “You need to either start dating her yourself or step aside.”

“I already stepped aside.”

“The hell you did. You haven’t taken your eyes off her all night.”

“I can’t see her now.”

“She’s to the left of the band.”

Mitch zeroed in. He felt a little buzz of relief at seeing her proper stance with her dance partner. He could live with those six inches of airspace between them. But he wasn’t so crazy about the guy’s expression, nor about the way he kept glancing at her cleavage.

“Tell me something, Mitch.”

“Yeah?”

“That guy she’s dancing with? What do you want to do to him?”

“Rip his head off and kick it through the uprights.”

“I rest my case.”

“You have no case.”

“You can’t take out every guy who wants to sleep with her. Because take a good look at her, Mitch, lots of guys are going to want to sleep with her.”

“It better not frickin’ be you.”

“It’ll never be me.”

Mitch didn’t trust that promise, not one little bit. “Why not?”

“Because you’re my friend, and because I know what’s going on here.”

For a split second, Mitch thought Jeffrey meant his shoulder injury. But he quickly realized it was impossible for Jeffrey to know what the doctor had said.

“What’s going on here?” Mitch asked.

“What’s going on here is that you’ve been sacked one too many times behind the line of scrimmage, and it’s resulted in serious brain damage. Otherwise, you’d be out there on that dance floor with Jenny. She’s incredible, Mitch. And she said she wants to date you. But, oh, no, you’re so busy protecting your dating future with generic blonde bombshells, that you-”

“That’s not what this is about,” Mitch growled.

Jeffrey snorted. “The hell it’s not.”

“Give me one reason why I should take advice from you.”

“Because I screwed up. I had my chance with Celeste, and I blew it. I have to start all over again.” His voice went lower. “You watched me screw up, so now you don’t have to.”

“It’s not that simple,” said Mitch, even as his thigh muscles quivered with the need to cross the hall to Jenny. He tried to tell himself it wasn’t fair to Jenny to date her. But a growing chorus in his brain kept telling him he wouldn’t hurt her. He liked her too much to ever let himself hurt her. He honestly didn’t know which side of the argument to believe anymore.

“Song’s about to change,” Jeffrey warned.

Mitch swore under his breath. Giving in, he took the first few steps toward the dance floor.


Mitch was heading her way. Jenny watched him weave through the crowd on the dance floor. His gaze had locked on hers, and his jaw was set to a determined angle, shoulders square, stride eating up the distance between them. Judging by the flare in his blue eyes, he was either going to ask her to dance or have her arrested.

The strains of the music faded around her, and she relaxed her hold on her partner, stepping away.

“Thank you.” She smiled and nodded to the man she’d just met, drawing away and switching her attention back to Mitch.

She drew a little hitch of a breath, letting her arms fall to her sides and reflexively moistening her lips. She felt pretty tonight in a way she never had before. It was the dress, the hairstyle, the subtle makeup and the delicate shoes. And there was no denying, it was also the way men regarded her.

Normally, she caught very few eyes. At the wedding and the football party, when she’d been dressed in such sophisticated clothes, their interest had been frankly sexual. But tonight was different. There was respect in their eyes, a deference in their tone when they asked for a dance.

Jenny smiled to herself, thinking she could get used to this.

Mitch was thirty feet away now. She definitely wasn’t seeing deference in his expression. Still, she found herself eagerly anticipating his arrival.

Would he ask her to dance? Would she say yes? What would happen when she was in his arms again? Would all her well-laid plans fly out the window? Because the one thing she definitely could not achieve with Mitch was equanimity.

He came to a halt in front of her.

Neither of them spoke, but his expression softened.

“I like your dress,” he finally spoke. “Thank you.”

The music came up again, and she felt self-conscious standing still in the middle of the swaying couples.