The Man With The Money. Arlene James

and—”

      “You think you can coach soccer from a book?” he interrupted skeptically.

      She lifted her chin. “The proficiency level at this age is quite low, anyway. Besides, the most important thing is that they get to play.”

      “So you don’t expect them to actually win any games.”

      She didn’t, but she wasn’t about to admit it. Some of the teams in the league were outfitted with the very finest equipment and had committed, competitive coaches with the time and skill to turn out first-rate players. Some of them handpicked their players from a pool of eager applicants desperate to get onto winning teams. Most of that occurred with the older age groups, but the commissioner had already warned her that one coach in her level with a flawless win record had put together a team of all five-year-olds which he expected to “kick serious butt.”

      Looking Darren Rudd right in the brown eyes—and quite enticing eyes they were with their long, black lashes and warm centers—Charly said, “Can you help me or not?”

      To her surprise the older fellow butted in. “I’m afraid it’s just not possible, young lady. RuCom policy—”

      “I am in charge here,” Darren Rudd interrupted mildly. The other man silenced like a tap turning off, but the look he turned on Rudd was all questions. The younger man smiled at Charly and said, “What Stevens was trying to say is that we don’t usually make such donations, but since the cause is so very good, I think we can make an exception this time.”

      Charly closed her eyes in relief. “Thank you. This means more than you’ll ever know. If you’d like to verify what I’ve said, you can call the soccer commissioner.”

      As she spoke, Darren Rudd moved to the cash register and began punching buttons. “Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary. You look like a trustworthy sort.” He smiled, and the cash drawer slid open. He started pulling out cash and counting it. “Will, say, five hundred dollars take care of it?”

      Five hundred! Charly nearly collapsed. It was enough to pay the fees with nearly fifty dollars left over. “Yes!”

      The older man gasped and exclaimed, “But Mr. Ru—”

      Rudd held up a hand, cutting off his subordinate in midword. “If anyone has a problem with it, I’ll replace the funds out of my own pocket, all right, Stevens?”

      Stevens gulped and nodded. Rudd handed over the money to an impressed Charly. With those warm bills in her hand, she felt as if she’d met a kindred spirit, and the way he held her gaze made her wonder if perhaps she hadn’t found more, but then she took a good look at him and mentally shook her head. The man was a hunk. It wasn’t just those gorgeous eyes or that wavy brown-black hair, the chiseled features or even the broad shoulders and powerful build. He exuded an aura of confidence and potent masculinity that made itself felt as surely as any physical touch. He wouldn’t really be interested in a woman like her. If she couldn’t hold Dave’s interest, she certainly couldn’t hold the interest of a man like this! Oh, he flirted. Of course he would flirt. It seemed a part of his nature. He probably didn’t even realize he was doing it, but even if it had been more, it was still out of the question.

      “The kids will be so thrilled,” she told him. “We’ll have the team shirts printed up with RuCom Electronics Store 796 on the front.”

      “RuCom Electronics will suffice,” he said, sounding amused, “and it’ll save on printing costs.”

      She laughed. “So it will.”

      “By the way, what’s the team name? You never said.”

      “Well, we haven’t really decided that yet,” she admitted.

      “Good,” he said. “I might have some ideas about that. I mean, since you’ll be representing RuCom, we’ll want it to be something cool, naturally.”

      “Oh, ah, well, the team would have to vote on it, you understand.”

      He shrugged. “No problem. When can we have a team meeting?”

      “Uh, Thursday. We’re practicing at a field over on Lovers Lane at Arroyo. We start about six.”

      Darren Rudd smiled. “Then I’ll see you Thursday. Probably not by six, more like half past.”

      “No problem. You could even come after practice, about seven.”

      He rubbed a spot just in front of one ear and said, “We’ll have to see. Now if you’ll just give me a number where I can reach you…”

      “Oh, yes, of course.”

      He plucked an ink pen from the counter and turned over a brochure touting a certain computer package. She recited all ten digits of her home phone number, knowing that Bellows, Cartere, Dennis and Pratt took a dim view of her “bleeding-heart projects.” Darren Rudd jotted them down and wrote the name Charlene above them in bold block letters. “Actually,” she heard herself say, “nearly everyone calls me Charly.”

      He hitched an eyebrow at that. “Is that a fact? Funny, you don’t look like any Charlie I’ve ever seen.” He actually winked at her then.

      To her horror, she felt a blush start to rise. With her pale, golden coloring, it was impossible to hide it. “I’ll, uh, see you Thursday then.” Quickly she turned away, but then she turned back long enough to add, “Thank you. Thank you so much. And it’s Charly, with a Y.”

      “Charly with a Y,” he echoed, tucking his hands beneath his folded arms and nodding.

      Charly got out of there as fast as her sensible pumps could carry her without knocking something over, blaming her pounding heart on her haste. It was only after she’d made it out to the sidewalk that she began to think how this must be her lucky day, after all.

      Dave would never have given her five hundred dollars! Oh, he’d have given her something, certainly more than Pratt, but five hundred? Never. She laughed as she stuffed the bills into her purse. She could kiss the feet of whoever had thought up Retail Staff Appreciation Day at RuCom Electronics. Just one thing bothered her.

      Why had she told him to call her Charly? Only her family and friends called her that. Professionally, she was Charlene. Charlene was an attorney, all business. Charly was just a woman with friends and family. Charlene was a sharp, Amazonian warrior on the field of legal expertise. Charly was a much more vulnerable soul, a woman who desperately wanted a family of her own. Something told her that vulnerable was not a good thing to be when it came to dealing with Darren Rudd. He might be just some exec who’d worked his way up to the home office via outstanding performance in the retail end of the business at this point, but he was the sort of decisive, bulls-by-the-horn type. If she wasn’t careful, he’d steamroll her, and this would be his and RuCom’s team rather than hers and the kids’.

      If she wasn’t careful, she’d take his flirtatiousness seriously, and that could only lead to trouble. Maybe he would call her Charly, but when it came to Darren Rudd, she was going to have to be Charlene.

      Darren snapped his fingers, hovering over the open cash drawer where he’d just put in some bills. “Come on, come on. I only had three hundred on me. You’ll get it back, I promise.”

      “It’s not the money,” Stevens said, passing Darren two hundred in cash. “I just can’t believe you, of all people, have expressively gone against company policy, policy you dictated, I might add. I knew nothing good could come of this retail staff appreciation program.”

      Darren slid the bills into the cash register and closed the drawer, chuckling. “I’ll be honest with you, Stevens, having corporate staff substitute for retail associates is more about giving you stuffed shirts in your ivory tower a taste of the real business than letting the sales staff off for the day, though they do deserve it since they’re the real money-makers.”

      Stevens made a face. “Point taken. But I don’t see what that has to do with sponsoring a soccer team against company policy.”