Stand-In Mom

“Do you want to introduce me to some of the nicer guys?” she asked to placate Lisa. “You’d know who’s unattached with pure intentions.” Not that she wanted anybody too pure of heart. Gesturing toward the mystery man with her now empty glass, she said, “What about him?”

Lisa followed her gaze. “I don’t recognize him. He might be the new guy in Dylan’s division.”

Dylan Ross, Joe’s partner, headed up the R&D department, inventing computer programs and troubleshooting existing ones. Mystery Man looked too strong and too vital to be a computer nerd.

“New guy?” Ginger tried to appear only mildly interested.

“Some genius from the South that Dylan snatched up when his company downsized. In Alabama, I think. Dylan considers hiring this guy to be a real coup.”

“I can imagine.” She’d consider snatching him up to be a coup, too. Strong, clean hands gripped his bottle. His lips curved in a smile in response to the blonde woman now chatting with him. Ginger wanted those hands on her, that mouth smiling at her. The rush of heat she felt just looking at him surprised her. In the past year since her ex-husband walked out, she’d never experienced such an immediate attraction.

The song ended. “We’re going to slow it down now,” the band leader announced. Lights lowered in the center of the room as they began playing Eric Clapton’s, “Wonderful Tonight.” The singer’s husky baritone intensified the sexy mood in the room.

A man claimed the blonde woman and led her away.

Spotting her chance, Ginger said, “I’m going to get another drink. Meanwhile, could you find out his name?”

“Whose?” Lisa’s gaze followed hers. “Oh.”

“See if Joe or Dylan knows if he’s single.”

“Ginger.”

“Don’t worry, Mother Hen.” She patted Lisa’s arm as she moved by her. “I know what I’m doing.”

“I doubt that,” Lisa muttered, making her smile.

Ginger wound her way past him, not too close, but catching his eye on her way to the bar set up on the far wall. If he didn’t follow, she’d go back and introduce herself. She dug through her tiny handbag for a tip. “Chardonnay, please.”

“Could y’all wait on that?” a man said at her side, his Southern inflection sliding over the words like honey. The singer on the stage had nothing on this guy in the sexy voice department.

The bartender looked to her for a decision. She glanced at her mystery man and let a smile flirt across her mouth, thrilled when it drew the attention of his hazel eyes. “Why would I wait?”

“It’ll be easier to dance with me if your hands are free.”

“Am I dancing with you?”

His eyes locked with hers. “I surely hope so.”

Her heart thrummed in her ears for a beat, then another. She spoke to the bartender without shifting her gaze. “Looks like I’ll have to come back for that drink.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She heard the laughter in the bartender’s voice but didn’t mind. She felt like giggling herself. Her new partner escorted her to the dance floor, his hand at the small of her back burning through the satin of her cocktail dress. Before she turned to him, she swallowed the lump in her throat. Pleasure, anticipation and sheer giddy attraction welled inside her.

He held her right hand and placed his other warm hand on her waist. Shivers ran across her skin as she touched his black-clad shoulder. She could feel his strength as they moved smoothly into the dance. About six foot one or two, she guessed, the perfect height for her in heels.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Ginger.”

“Unusual.” He laid her hand against his chest and touched a ringlet she’d left dangling from her temple. He twirled the curl around his finger. “Because of this?”

She nodded. She couldn’t actually feel him stroke her hair, but the impression of his touch tingled down her neck.

“I was born with shocking-pink hair. Picture cotton candy.” She smiled when he chuckled. “My parents hoped it would calm down to a ginger shade more like my mom’s, but it never did.”

“It’s not really red, and it’s certainly more dazzling than orange. What do you call it?”

“Apricot.” In the heat of his interest, she felt dazzling.

“That sounds about right.” He picked up her hand again but held it clasped against his chest. Her fingers stroked against the edge of his emerald silk tie.

“And you?” she all but croaked.

His mouth widened into a smile, showing beautiful white teeth. “My hair’s just brown.”

She laughed softly and shook her head. Up close, the bronze highlights held red and blond streaks. Lots of time in the sun, she supposed, remembering Lisa said he came from the South. If this was the guy Dylan hired. She only had his slow drawl and Lisa’s guess to go by. “I meant your name.”

“Scott.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine.”

“Are you new to the area?”

“How did you guess? My accent?” The corners of his lips tipped up in a rueful smile. “My part of the South has less of a twang than other places. Maybe it’ll ease up some after I’ve been here awhile.”

“Oh, I hope not.” Ginger stared over his shoulder, unable to believe she’d admitted such a thing. His chuckle made her wish for the dance floor to open up, like in the movie It’s a Wonderful Life. Her cheeks burned. Having a swimming pool to drop into sounded heavenly at the moment.

“Glad y’all like it,” he murmured, drawing her closer. He led her across the floor with confidence. “But I should try to fit in here. Put some stiff Yankee talk in my conversation.”

Ginger laughed. “It’d be a shame if y’all sounded like us.”

“Now y’all—I mean, you are making fun of me.” He winked at her.

She enjoyed the moment as their bodies adjusted to each other in wordless communication. He smelled of man rather than aftershave. Just strength and vitality, making her mouth water. The tan skin of his neck so close enticed her lips. She pulled back before temptation made her do something she’d regret. “Are you married?”

His hold on her loosened; his expression sobered. “Not anymore.”

Hearing he was single made her pulse accelerate, although part of her wondered why any woman would let a man this adorable and sexy get away. Did he eat crackers in bed? Hog the covers? These things didn’t matter to Ginger; she wasn’t looking for long-term. “She must have been crazy to let you go.”

He shook his head, and his gaze drifted off. Great. Now his thoughts centered on another woman, one he obviously had feelings for still. Ginger knew she should cut her losses and leave him to his memories. He had the look of a man recently set free—lost and hungry but too conflicted to act. Yet.

The music ended, and she sensed he would lead her off the dance floor, return her to the bar with some expression of thanks, maybe buy her that wine, but she’d never hear from him again. The first notes of “Lady in Red” sounded, and Ginger gripped his shoulder. She felt a kinship with him, although she’d long ago passed the stage of being saddened by her divorce. Maybe a nudge would lead him in the right direction. Toward her. “I’m not married, either. Not anymore.”

She held his gaze as he began moving to the song, their bodies in accord.