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“Forget it. Forget I said anything. This isn’t going to work.” To her horror, her voice shook slightly.
It wasn’t the hint of amusement in his eyes that had gotten to her. It was the frustration of not being able to make herself heard. Of her concerns and feelings being summarily dismissed.
That’s how it had been with Jerry the Jerk. No matter how many different ways she’d told him to back 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.
“What’s so funny?” Rachel tilted her head, and a speculative gleam shone in her eyes. “Have you already kissed him?”
“Ra-chel.” The name was said with just the right touch of injured emotion and appeared to allay her friend’s suspicions. “I barely know the man.”
“That wouldn’t stop me if I was interested in a guy.”
“Well, I’m not interested in Oliver, not in that way. This is strictly a business arrangement.”
“Then why did you laugh?”
“Because I don’t see Oliver as being a cold fish.”
“Yeah, right.”
“No. Seriously. He’s simply...British.”
Rachel rolled her eyes and swiped a nacho off the plate.
“Okay, so maybe he’s a bit uptight,” Shannon admitted. “But it wouldn’t take much to loosen him up.”
“You go for it, sister.” Rachel’s red lips focused on something in the distance then curved upward in a sly smile. “In fact, there’s no better time to start than right now.”
“Other than I’m occupied, enjoying this scrumptious plate of nachos and—” Shannon lifted the Corona “—this ice-cold beer with you. Oliver, on the other hand, is—”
“Right behind you.”
“What?”
“Turn,” Rachel ordered.
Shannon swiveled on the bar stool. She inhaled sharply and her heart began pumping in time to the sexy salsa beat.
The man she’d been chatting with less than an hour earlier stood in the lobby. Ollie stood fidgeting at his side while Oliver chatted amiably with Wendy Fortune Mendoza and Marcos Mendoza, owners of the cantina. Wendy, looking as stylish as ever in a wrap dress of bright red with matching five-inch heels, clasped the hand of her three-year-old daughter, MaryAnne.
Even as Shannon’s eyes were drawn to MaryAnne’s adorable pink-and-white-striped dress, she couldn’t help noticing the way Marcos’s hand rested lovingly on his wife’s shoulder or how hot Oliver looked.
He’d changed his clothes, wearing yet another dark suit but this time coupled with a gray shirt and charcoal tie. Odd he hadn’t mentioned he had plans for the evening. He certainly hadn’t acted as if he was in a rush for her to leave. Quite the contrary.
“Time to start warming up the iceberg,” Rachel said in a low tone.
“Saying hello would be the polite thing to do,” Shannon agreed, ignoring Rachel’s snort of laughter.
Placing her Corona bottle down, Shannon hopped off the stool and pulled a small round mirror from her bag. Before taking a step, she touched up her lipstick, then flashed Rachel a smile. “Back in five.”
Rachel lifted a nacho heavy with beef and cheese and gestured to the platter. “Just warning you, these may be all gone when you get back.”
“I will return to find both the nachos and my seat waiting.” Shannon pointed at her friend and spoke in an ominous voice suitable for any horror flick. “Or you will pay the price.”
“No guarantee, Chickadee.” Rachel peered over the Corona bottle at Shannon and those baby blues twinkled. “If some sexy cowboy wants that stool, those chips or me, I’m sayin’ yes.”
Shannon ignored the warning and turned, anticipation fueling her steps as she headed across the hardwood floor toward Oliver.
Chapter Five (#ulink_8e9d8c19-07b3-598a-8d91-a779618fc4af)
Though Oliver hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting Wendy Fortune Mendoza before tonight, he was well aware she was one of his Texas cousins. The minute he walked into the Hollows Cantina, she greeted him warmly. Since she and her husband owned the cantina, Oliver assumed Wendy and Marcos were cohosting the last-minute party his mother, Josephine, had organized.
But Wendy informed him that she and Marcos wouldn’t be able to stay. Even though they couldn’t attend, they’d made the restaurant’s private room available for the impromptu dinner.
“I’m happy to have the opportunity to meet you.” Marcos, a tall man in a perfectly tailored suit with piercing dark eyes, gave Oliver’s hand a firm shake.
From what Oliver had heard, Marcos was a savvy businessman, yet it was clear, seeing him with his wife and daughter, that family was also important to him. A man would have to be blind not to notice the loving way Marcos’s gaze lingered on Wendy.
“I don’t know if you heard but I’ve secured lodging at a ranch house on the Singleton property. I’ll be there for the duration of my stay in Horseback Hollow.” Oliver dropped his gaze and shot Ollie a warning glance when the child began tugging on his hand. “Stop by sometime. Bring your daughter. Ollie seems to enjoy being around other children.”
“Wonderful. I’ll call you this week and we’ll set something up.” Wendy started to say more but shifted her attention and smiled brilliantly. “Shannon. It’s been ages.”
Oliver turned to see Wendy give his new nanny a quick hug. She slipped an arm through Shannon’s and lifted her gaze to Oliver. “I’m not sure if you’ve had a chance to meet Shep’s daughter—”
“Introductions are unnecessary.” Oliver offered Shannon a warm smile. “Miss Singleton and I are well acquainted.”
Wendy exchanged a glance with her husband.
“Just this afternoon Shannon agreed to be Ollie’s live-in nanny,” Oliver announced.
Astonishment rippled across his cousin’s pretty face. “Why, that’s wonderful.”
“Live-in?” Marcos’s dark eyes narrowed. “Your father approves of this plan?”
“I’m twenty-five, Marcos,” Shannon said drily. “I hardly need my father’s okay.”
“He’s your father,” Marcos said pointedly.
“Living in is necessary because of the time difference between here and London.” Shannon quickly explained the circumstances, ignoring Marcos’s disapproving glance and focusing on Wendy instead.
