Just 4 Play

She laughed. “Unconventional maybe. Smart even. But not crazy.”

“It is crazy. And it won’t work. You heard him yesterday—his mind is made up.”

“People can change their minds. Even men.”

“Not men like him.”

“I guess you’re an expert on change, Mr. How-Many-Girlfriends-Is-It-This-Week?”

He stuck out his lower lip. “I have every intention of being faithful, as soon as I find the right woman.”

“So you’re saying the right woman will convince you to change your tomcat ways?”

He nodded. “When I’ve found the right woman, I won’t need anyone else.”

She laughed. “That’s what I love about you, you’re such a romantic.”

His expression relaxed. “Speak for yourself, Miss I-Want-To-Be-Swept-Away-By-A-Knight-In-Shining-Armor.”

“That’s a pirate. I want to be swept away by a pirate.”

“Whatever. I don’t think Mitch Landry has ever been within sight of a sailing ship.”

“Don’t be so sure. My point is, if the right woman can make you mend your ways, then the right woman can make Mitch Landry change his mind about closing Just 4 Play.”

“And you think you’re the right woman?”

“Let’s just say I’m a woman who always gets her man.”

“Hmm. Well, if I were a betting man, I’d put my money on the man getting you. I think you’re in over your head this time, Jilly girl.”

She shook her head and walked away, ignoring the doubts nudging at her. For a moment with Mitch, she’d almost forgotten the rules of the game. Rules she’d established. Fun was the object. A mutually satisfying, sensual experience. A good time had by all. No need for messy complications.

Mitch’s talk of “connections” and “life-changing experiences” had shaken her. Sure, those things were for some people, but not for her. What did Mitch know? Maybe he thought he’d seen some secret longing in her eyes, but he was wrong. She was attracted to his body. To his mind, even. But that was as far it went. Anything else was just his imagination.

5

MITCH SAT IN HIS CAR, trying to calm nerves that felt as if they’d been filed with sandpaper, trying to make sense of what had just happened. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so vulnerable and out of control, so exposed while fully clothed, or so incredibly aroused.

It was more than being caught off guard and tied up. More than the props Jill had used in her little “product demonstration,” more even than the admitted excitement of knowing that at any moment, they might be discovered.

No, something about Jill herself made his temperature rise and his mind lose track of where he was and what he was supposed to be doing. Something in the contrast between her innocent looks and her seductive words fired every synapse and sent common sense running for cover. The way she made him feel was based on instinct, not reason. The thought that anyone could reduce him to that sent a new tremor through him.

“Damn it, this is crazy!” He hit the steering wheel hard with the heel of his hand. He wasn’t some pimply teenager ruled by hormones. He was a businessman—and he had no business getting involved with a woman he scarcely knew. A woman who had the power to distract him so much.

Thwarted desire replaced by a more garden-variety frustration filled him as he started the car and pulled out into traffic. He’d intended to head over to Qdoba for lunch, but he found himself driving up University Hill, toward the only apartment building he still owned, where his sister, Meg, lived with another premed student.

Meg answered the door dressed in scrubs, holding a can of soup in one hand. “Hey, Mitch!” She stood on tiptoe to hug him, then stepped back and held up the can. “You’re just in time for lunch.”

“How about I take you out instead?”

She tossed the can over her shoulder. It landed on the sofa and bounced twice before coming to rest against a pillow. “Let me put my shoes on and you’ve got a date.”

Fifteen minutes later, they sipped iced tea on the patio at Qdoba. “So what’s up?” Meg asked, reaching for a tortilla chip.

“Nothing’s up.” He rearranged the salt and pepper shakers. “I remembered you don’t have classes Tuesday and Thursday mornings and I thought I’d stop by and see how you’re doing.”

She shook her head. “Since when do you leave work in the middle of the day to socialize? Especially with your sister?”

He pushed the salt and pepper aside and contemplated his hands, palms down in front of him on the table. They were plain, unremarkable hands, no rings, nails clean and neatly filed. No scars or calluses. Hands with no character at all.

“Earth to Mitch.” Meg snapped her fingers under his nose. “C’mon, what’s up? You look like you lost your best friend.”

He sighed and looked up at her. Strands of her dark curly hair fluttered in the breeze from the ceiling fan overhead. She wasn’t wearing any makeup and she looked about sixteen. He couldn’t imagine her ever delivering a baby or performing surgery on anyone.

She looked like their mother—a small, helpless woman. Except Meg wasn’t helpless. She pointed a tortilla chip at him. “You might as well tell me, ’cause you know I’m going to worm it out of you, or else I’ll nose around behind your back until I find out everything. You can’t keep secrets from me, big brother.”

“Did you know Uncle Grif funded a foundation to educate the public about mental illness? And he named it after Mother.”

“I think I remember hearing something like that. Why?”

He sat back, shoulders slumped. “I just found out. I never knew that about him. Why would he do something like that?”

“I think he had a soft spot for Mama. And I know she was fond of him. She always looked forward to his visits when she was in the hospital.”

“I always thought he was just a loudmouthed playboy who spent all his money on gin, girls and golf.”

She tilted her head to one side, her expression sympathetic. “And now you’re beating yourself up because you were wrong.” She reached out and touched his arm. “Hey it’s okay. Even you are allowed to screw up sometimes. It proves you’re human, like the rest of us.”

“Great bedside manner, Doc. I feel all better now.”

“You’ll get over it. Grif must not have held it against you, since he left you his business.”

A business Mitch hadn’t even known existed until the will had been read. Maybe this was Grif’s way of having the last word.

Their lunch arrived and conversation stalled as they focused on their burritos. Mitch had found that even big problems looked smaller when considered in the aftermath of any meal that included plenty of hot sauce and melted cheese.

“So how did you find out about the mental health foundation?” Meg asked just as he’d taken a bite of burrito.

He swallowed and reached for his tea. “I was going through his files at…at the business he left me.”

“Oh, yes. The mysterious business.” She speared a forkful of beans. “Just what is this business, anyway?”

“Nothing important.” He ignored the scowl she sent his way and poured hot sauce onto his plate. “I’m going to close it and open a restaurant on the site.”

Meg shrugged. “Sounds like a lot of work to me, but you’re the big businessman.”

He looked away, pretending great interest in his meal. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake with this restaurant. He’d had the idea for over a year now, ever since he first met Chef Ping. When he found out Uncle Grif had left him a prime piece of downtown real estate, it had seemed like a sign he should go ahead with the project. Now he wondered…