Fortune's Little Heartbreaker. Cindy Kirk
off—that she wasn’t interested—he never heard her.
Because he didn’t want to hear what I had to say. Because I didn’t matter.
As emotions flooded her, Shannon whirled toward the door.
She’d taken only a step or two when Oliver grabbed her arm, his expression contrite.
“I didn’t mean to wind you up.” He loosened his grip but didn’t let go. “You have my word as a gentleman that I will never take advantage of you while you’re under my roof and in my employ.”
Shannon blew out a shaky breath and swayed slightly, conscious of his hand on her arm. He stood an arm’s breadth away, near enough for the intoxicating scent of his cologne to tease her nostrils and make her want to lean close.
Step back, she told herself. She needed to put some distance between her and Oliver. That way she could think. That way she could breathe.
But her feet were as heavy and unmoving as if rooted in concrete. At that moment Shannon didn’t have the energy—or the desire—to move.
Instead she tilted her head back and once again found herself drowning in the shockingly blue depths of Oliver’s eyes.
Oliver stepped toward her, hand outstretched.
The heat in his gaze ignited a fire in her belly.
A zillion butterflies fluttered in her chest. Shannon moistened her lips and, as she caught another whiff of his cologne, reconsidered her hardline stance of only a moment ago.
One kiss.
What would really be wrong with one little kiss?
After all, people shook hands all the time to seal a deal. How would this be any different? Even as the rational piece of her brain still capable of cognizant thought told her it was indeed very different, she extended her hand.
Shannon waited for him to take her fingers and tug her to him. Waited for that magic moment when he would enfold her in a warm embrace before covering her mouth with his...
Her lips were already tingling with anticipation when his hand closed over hers and he gave it a decisive shake. “To new beginnings.”
Even as a tsunami-sized wave of disappointment washed over her, Shannon forced herself to breathe and made her lips curve in an easy smile.
Regroup, she told herself.
Her father always said actions spoke louder than words. By his actions, Oliver had shown he was a man of his word. A man she could trust. There was something even more important Shannon had learned today.
She had more to fear from herself than from him.
* * *
Happy Hour at the Hollows Cantina had been going for close to two hours by the time Shannon strolled through the front door. She wasn’t surprised to find standing-room-only in the bar area.
Her friends tried to squeeze her in at their table, but even if she could have located a spare chair, there was no room for one more.
“That’s okay.” Shannon waved a hand in the direction of the bar. “I’ll just mingle.”
“I’m coming with you.” Rachel’s heels had barely hit the shiny hardwood before her chair was snatched away.
Good old Rachel, Shannon thought with a warm rush of affection. She could always count on her.
The two women wove their way through the crowd, stopping every few feet to chat with friends and acquaintances while keeping an eye out for a couple of empty spots at the bar. They finally snagged two stools when a young couple got up abruptly and hurried off, hands all over each other.
“Get a room,” someone yelled, and laughter rippled through the crowd.
A bartender approached to wipe the counter and take their order.
“The nachos are my treat,” Shannon announced.
Rachel narrowed her gaze. “What’s got you feeling so generous?”
“Tonight is a special occasion.” Shannon smiled her thanks as the bartender placed a bottle of Corona beer sporting a wedge of lime in front of her. Before he rushed off he assured her the nachos would be out shortly. “We’re celebrating.”
The half-finished bottle Rachel had brought with her from the table paused midway to her lips and a smile blossomed on her mouth. “You know I adore happy news. Clue me in. What are we celebrating?”
Shannon raised the beer in a mock toast. Initially she’d been hesitant about accepting Oliver’s offer. But now she felt confident of her ability to withstand temptation. “My new job.”
Rachel’s smile froze. Then she clinked her bottle against the one Shannon held and sputtered out her congratulations.
“Thanks. I’m superjazzed.” The position was all about Ollie, she reassured herself. She had no doubt she and the boy would get along splendidly. Shannon would not think about the way her heart hammered whenever Oliver was near.
“When did they call you?”
The quietly spoken question came out of nowhere. Shannon blinked and focused on her friend. “Who?”
“The person who contacted you about the Fortune Foundation job.” Rachel cleared her throat. “When did you get the good news?”
The bartender, a thirtysomething-year-old with a shaved head, set a plate of loaded nachos in front of them.
“I never thought they’d choose someone this soon,” Rachel continued before Shannon had a chance to respond. “But, hey, if it couldn’t be me, I’m happy it was you.”
“This isn’t the foundation job. They won’t let us know until the end of the month, remember?” Shannon picked up a chip dripping with cheese and nibbled. “I’m going to be a nanny to Oliver Fortune Hayes’s son. It’s short-term but the position pays extremely well.”
“Oh.” The tightness on Rachel’s face eased. “When do you start?”
“I move in Sunday night.” Shannon popped the nacho into her mouth. “I asked him for a few days to get my stuff together and my bags packed.”
“You’re moving in with him?” Rachel’s voice rose.
Shannon quickly explained about the time difference and the need to be there to watch Ollie while Oliver was conducting business.
“How did your folks take the news?”
A twinkle of amusement danced in Rachel’s eyes. Like most Horseback Hollow natives, her friend knew Shannon’s parents were a bit on the conservative side.
Shannon grimaced, not looking forward to that conversation. “They don’t know. Not yet. I was at Oliver’s place until I came here. All I can do is assure them it’s strictly business between us.”
“Easy peasy.” Rachel waved a dismissive hand. “Five minutes in his presence and they’ll see it couldn’t be anything but business.”
Shannon frowned. “What makes you say that?”
“Think about how he stands, so straight and tall. It’s like he’s got a poker up his a—” Rachel stopped abruptly when she saw Pastor Dunbrook two stools away. She lowered her voice. “I’m just saying that while Oliver may look smokin’ hot—and sound just as good as he looks—he has that British thing going.”
“British thing?”
“Stiff upper lip and all that. Jolly good and tally-ho.” Rachel tapped two fingers against her lips. “Kissing him would probably be like kissing a corpse.”
As if Rachel’s attempt at a proper British accent wasn’t hilarious enough, her describing Oliver as a cold fish made Shannon laugh.