In a way, it really pissed her off that she had to go to such lengths to get her damn boss off her back and let her be successful at her career on her own merits. Geez. Why did things have to be so freakin’ complicated?

“Yeah. Sorry for you. I’m sure that’s how he’s feeling,” Myra said, still smirking.

“Oh crap.” Shelby blew out a breath. “Don’t even start. You know my track record with men.”

“Oh, Shelby. You can’t let what happened with Mark turn you against all men.”

“It wasn’t just Mark.” She rolled her eyes. “And you know it.” A knot of pain lodged in her chest. In the past, she’d had the unfortunate tendency to fall into bed with guys. To equate sex with affection. And to then be hurt when she never heard from them again. Dammit.

“She has had a string of bad luck,” Kiara said to the other women.

“I know,” Riley said. “If we looked like her, we’d probably have the same problem. Instead of guys lining up outside my door, I can’t even find one guy to go out with.” She sighed dramatically.

“That is not true, Riley.” Shelby shook her head. “You’re just too picky.”

Riley snorted. “Yeah. Right.”

“You are. No guy ever meets your high expectations. Anyway.” Shelby leaned down and picked up her purse from the floor. “I better go. I need to change.”

“Shelby!” Riley exchanged amused glances with Myra and Kiara. “Why are you going home to change? It’s not a date!”

Shelby pressed her lips together, glad they’d already taken care of the bill so she could escape. “I know, but…but…oh never mind.” With a scowl she couldn’t stop from tipping up into a smile, she waved a hand as she hurried out of the restaurant.

Amigo’s was a fun, casual place, and she didn’t want to show up there in her suit and silk blouse. She took a mental inventory of her wardrobe as she drove home. Her new jeans, the flowery pink and blue top and her favorite shoes, the dusty-pink stilettos—that’s what she’d wear. Then she planned her time, something she was very good at, quickly coming up with a plan of action that would get her out the door, dressed, hair and makeup done, and to the bar by nine o’clock.

She did it, of course. Her anal tendencies—no, she was supposed to call it detail oriented—were what made her such an excellent project manager. She walked into Amigos at exactly nine o’clock and looked around the dimly lit bar for Jake.

He was there, sitting at a table for two in the back. She started toward him before he saw her, taking the opportunity to admire him—his strong jaw with that sexy dimple right in the middle, his chiseled nose and cheekbones. He was probably nearly a foot taller than her five foot two, and wide through the shoulders. He wore his dark brown hair long on top, artfully messy, with neat sideburns. He had a definite presence, an air of masculine confidence, but he sat there staring into space looking almost sad.

Her footsteps slowed. His expression tugged at something inside her.

An axe murderer. She smiled as she recalled his comment. Yes, she’d been cautious when he’d suggested picking her up at her home, because really, she didn’t know him from a hole in the ground, but she had no doubts he was an upstanding citizen—professional, successful, judging by the quality of the suit he’d had on, the Baume & Mercier watch on his wrist, the hi-tech phone he carried. He was well spoken, confident, and dammit, sexy as hell.

He looked up and spotted her, and the lost boy look changed into a warm, sexy smile that had her tummy fluttering.

Uh-uh. So not happening.

But she couldn’t help smiling in return as she dropped into the other chair at the table and hung her soft leather purse over the arm rest.

“Hi.” He held a beer between two hands. “I already ordered, but we’ll find the waiter and get you something right away. What would you like?”

“Um. A glass of wine, I guess. Chardonnay.”

Jake lifted a hand, and someone came over immediately. A pretty waitress with an eager smile for him. Sure. Shelby would just bet he got great service wherever he went, especially from females.

“So,” he said, after he’d ordered her wine. “I guess we need to get to know each other.”

“Yes.” She glanced at her watch. “We should be able to cover a lot of the basics pretty quickly.”

He grinned. “Efficient, aren’t you?”

She gave him a pleased smile. “Yes I am. Efficient is my middle name.”

“I’ll remember that tomorrow if someone asks me.”

She laughed and held up her hands. “Okay, okay. My middle name is really Rose. What’s yours? And what’s your last name, by the way?”

“Yeah, last names would be good to know.” He shook his head and smiled ruefully. “Jacob James Magill. I’m thirty years old; I’m a Senior Business Analyst and team leader at Coast Power Inc. Single, never married. I enjoy basketball and hockey—playing and watching—I’m a triathlete and I like to play Texas Hold’em with my friends.”

She laughed again. “You sound like a singles ad.”

He grinned. “Those are the basics. Now you.”

“Shelby Rose Leighton. I’m a project manager, as you know. I’m twenty-eight years old, and I could probably kick your butt at Texas Hold’em.”

His grin nearly melted her panties. “In your dreams, blondie.”

She shifted in her seat, feeling very warm and charmed by his easy teasing and sexy smile. “There’s something we have in common if anyone asks.”

“Favorite food?” he asked.

“Ice cream. I live for ice cream. Butter pecan is my favorite. You?”

“Steak. Well, any kind of beef. Rare.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Eeew.”

“Are you vegetarian?”

“No, I eat meat, I just don’t like to see blood on my plate. Favorite drink?” She nodded at the beer in his hand.

“Yup, this is it. Surf Coast Pale Ale. Yours?”

She lifted her wine glass with a smile. “Though I’m pretty addicted to caffeine.”

“Another thing in common,” he said. “So if anyone asks, that’s where we met, right? Java the Hut.”

“Right. Over our mutual appreciation of fine coffee. Um…family? Parents? Brothers? Sisters?”

A shadow darkened his eyes briefly, and she caught a glimpse of pain and vulnerability that made her insides soften and warm. Then the corners of his mouth turned up. “I have three sisters.”

Her eyes widened. “Omigod. Really?”

“You bet. I’m the youngest. They tortured me with unbelievable cruelty when we were kids. Curled my hair, painted my nails.”

She choked on a laugh and eyed his large masculine shape. “That seems very unbelievable.”

“I wasn’t always this size.” One big shoulder lifted and the smile still hovered on his lips. “There was a time when all three of them were bigger than me. No longer, I’m happy to say, and they don’t get away with that shit anymore.”

She sensed the affection for his sisters in his tone and dammit, she liked it. She liked the confidence he had in himself and his masculinity to share something like that with her.

“They’re all married now and I have eight nieces and nephews.”

She tipped her head to one side. “Holy crap. That must make for some crazy family get-togethers.”

“Well. We don’t get together that much.” He looked down at his beer, then back up. “We kind of lost touch when I was about fourteen. My mom left and took my sisters with her.”

Shelby could only blink at him in disbelief and dismay. “She took your sisters with her? But not you?”

He gave a careless shrug. “Yeah. She said she didn’t know what to do with a teenage boy. Thought I’d be better off with my dad. Who she didn’t want to be married to anymore.”

Her heart squeezed. She knew what it was like to feel unwanted, but that was just because her parents had basically ignored her. To be the one child left behind…how awful. How rejected and abandoned he must have felt.

“But I’ve connected with my sisters again,” he said with a smile. “It wasn’t their fault, what happened. My mom’s gone now, but I see my sisters and all my nieces and nephews sometimes.”