in the shadows near the door. Yeah, he could really identify with the sentiment. He couldn’t see her now, not unless he turned and made his attention obvious. And it was clear she wanted to be alone. Devon smiled—birds of a feather.
Oh crap. He’d had women, lots of them, but didn’t keep anyone around long enough to get serious. Devon had focused on his career, figuring he could settle down after football was over. Everyone knew a sports career didn’t last forever. He planned to appreciate it, and the money, as long as it came in. Besides, it wasn’t fair to leave a wife and kids home waiting.
Devon sighed. It sounded good and noble, but it was all an excuse. The simple, unvarnished truth was that the idea of loving someone that much—well, it just wasn’t in his makeup. Diving that far into a relationship was like plunging off a cliff without a parachute. You only got hurt when you hit bottom.
He backed into the shadows, out of sight, sipping on champagne.
“Ouch! You stepped on my foot!”
The woman’s legs buckled and she went down in a heap of lace and crinoline with the weight of the two-hundred pound Casanova on top of her. The force squeezed the air from her lungs in a long whoosh.
“Oh, God. Sorry. Sorry.” Devon wrestled himself off the vanilla and lavender-scented woman. He braced his bad leg beneath him and pulled her upright. She straightened her dress, fluffed her hair and sent him a sheepish look—as though she’d been the one to bump into him.
Her mask had fallen on the floor. He bent to pick it up and handed it back.
Her brilliant green eyes widened in horror. She elbowed around him, her shoulder catching his as she darted into the building. For the second time tonight, Devon toppled over.
Chapter Two
Fiona Michaels burst into the ladies room, startling two women standing at the sink. She threw herself into one of the stalls and slammed the door. Oh gosh. It had almost happened again—she’d seen a great looking guy. He looked lonely. He looked approachable. She could go out and talk to him. The mask was in place. She could do this.
Her luck hadn’t take a turn for the good when, as if reading her mind, he turned and started toward her. He was going to initiate a conversation!
When he stepped on her toes, the whole night went to hell. Not that it hurt. He’d scrabbled to keep her from falling down, and gotten a good-sized handful of breast. They’d gotten into a tangle of limbs and tumbled to the brick patio, with him on top. All this would’ve been okay if she hadn’t got to her feet and realized the mask was gone. And he was staring at her face.
She just had to run. The way he stared, it was clear he’d seen her scar. The next thing would be questions that’d range from, “Oh my God, what happened to you?” to “I’m so sorry. You are such a pretty lady.” Translation—You would’ve been pretty if...
Maybe even worse was the instantaneous attraction she’d felt for the blond man. Stupid. She knew how it would go. They’d chat over a couple of drinks, have a great time—and then he’d expect the mask to come off.
Oh, why had she come here?
Somebody knocked on her door. “Are you all right in there?”
Of course she was all right, what business was it of theirs? “Yes. Thanks. I’ll be right out.”
“It’s just that you rushed past so fast, I thought something might be wrong.”
Must be one of the women she’d frightened near the sink. “Thanks. I’m fine.” She waited till the woman left the room and leaned against the cool, metal separation.
So, why had she come? One reason: it was an animal rescue benefit. Normally she’d mail a check and be done with it. But she could hardly refuse the personal invitation from the vet clinic. They’d been so good with her Fischer’s lovebirds; not many vets treated birds.
How on earth could she get out of here? That man had her mask. She unlatched the door and stepped out to the sink. If she
Oh crap. He’d had women, lots of them, but didn’t keep anyone around long enough to get serious. Devon had focused on his career, figuring he could settle down after football was over. Everyone knew a sports career didn’t last forever. He planned to appreciate it, and the money, as long as it came in. Besides, it wasn’t fair to leave a wife and kids home waiting.
Devon sighed. It sounded good and noble, but it was all an excuse. The simple, unvarnished truth was that the idea of loving someone that much—well, it just wasn’t in his makeup. Diving that far into a relationship was like plunging off a cliff without a parachute. You only got hurt when you hit bottom.
He backed into the shadows, out of sight, sipping on champagne.
“Ouch! You stepped on my foot!”
The woman’s legs buckled and she went down in a heap of lace and crinoline with the weight of the two-hundred pound Casanova on top of her. The force squeezed the air from her lungs in a long whoosh.
“Oh, God. Sorry. Sorry.” Devon wrestled himself off the vanilla and lavender-scented woman. He braced his bad leg beneath him and pulled her upright. She straightened her dress, fluffed her hair and sent him a sheepish look—as though she’d been the one to bump into him.
Her mask had fallen on the floor. He bent to pick it up and handed it back.
Her brilliant green eyes widened in horror. She elbowed around him, her shoulder catching his as she darted into the building. For the second time tonight, Devon toppled over.
Chapter Two
Fiona Michaels burst into the ladies room, startling two women standing at the sink. She threw herself into one of the stalls and slammed the door. Oh gosh. It had almost happened again—she’d seen a great looking guy. He looked lonely. He looked approachable. She could go out and talk to him. The mask was in place. She could do this.
Her luck hadn’t take a turn for the good when, as if reading her mind, he turned and started toward her. He was going to initiate a conversation!
When he stepped on her toes, the whole night went to hell. Not that it hurt. He’d scrabbled to keep her from falling down, and gotten a good-sized handful of breast. They’d gotten into a tangle of limbs and tumbled to the brick patio, with him on top. All this would’ve been okay if she hadn’t got to her feet and realized the mask was gone. And he was staring at her face.
She just had to run. The way he stared, it was clear he’d seen her scar. The next thing would be questions that’d range from, “Oh my God, what happened to you?” to “I’m so sorry. You are such a pretty lady.” Translation—You would’ve been pretty if...
Maybe even worse was the instantaneous attraction she’d felt for the blond man. Stupid. She knew how it would go. They’d chat over a couple of drinks, have a great time—and then he’d expect the mask to come off.
Oh, why had she come here?
Somebody knocked on her door. “Are you all right in there?”
Of course she was all right, what business was it of theirs? “Yes. Thanks. I’ll be right out.”
“It’s just that you rushed past so fast, I thought something might be wrong.”
Must be one of the women she’d frightened near the sink. “Thanks. I’m fine.” She waited till the woman left the room and leaned against the cool, metal separation.
So, why had she come? One reason: it was an animal rescue benefit. Normally she’d mail a check and be done with it. But she could hardly refuse the personal invitation from the vet clinic. They’d been so good with her Fischer’s lovebirds; not many vets treated birds.
How on earth could she get out of here? That man had her mask. She unlatched the door and stepped out to the sink. If she
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