When We Met. Сьюзен Мэллери

business. He’d provided the money, she’d brought the PR know-how and Score had been an instant success—helped by Jack throwing a lot of business her way. It had been a great arrangement.

      Unfortunately four years later, Kenny had blown out his knee and ended his career. Sam had been thinking of getting out of the NFL, and for reasons Taryn couldn’t figure out, Jack had joined them. Her ex had walked away from his starring role as a quarterback with the L.A. Stallions. He claimed he wanted to go out on top, but she suspected his departure had more to do with his friends than anything else. Not that Jack would admit it.

      There they were—three ex-jocks—with plenty of cash and fame and no second act in the wings. Oh, wait. Jack was half owner of a PR firm. Before she’d known what was happening, he’d brought Kenny and Sam on board and all four of them were partners.

      At first she’d been sure they would crash and burn, but more quickly than she would have guessed possible, they’d become a team and then a family. Jack and Kenny were the salesguys. They brought in the clients and were the public face of the firm. Sam handled the finances, both for the company and for each of them privately. Not only was he smart, but he’d actually gone to his classes in college.

      Taryn handled everything else. She ran the business, bossed around the boys and created the campaigns that had continued to add to their net worth. Theirs was an unconventional arrangement, but it worked for them.

      Jack shifted again, the muscle in his cheek tightening. She reminded herself he wasn’t trying to be difficult—he was in pain. No one could get through nearly a decade in the NFL and not have the battered body to prove it. Larissa, Jack’s personal assistant and the boys’ private masseuse, hadn’t been able to move to Fool’s Gold as quickly as the rest of them. After nearly a month without her healing touch, all three of the former players were suffering.

      “Tomorrow,” she said again.

      “You sure?”

      “Yes.” She paused. “You could take something.”

      The statement was made in her most gentle voice, one her partners almost never heard. Because she knew that Jack was going to refuse. With permanent injuries and the discomfort that went with them, painkillers could be a slick road to hell. None of the guys wanted to go there.

      “What’s next?” he asked, ignoring her words.

      “We’re up,” Kenny told him, then opened the file in front of him. “Jack and I had a second meeting with the CEO and founder of Living Life at a Run.” He reached for the remote in the center of the table and hit a button. The screen at the far end of the room lit up and a logo came into focus.

      Taryn studied the angular letters and the quirky acronym. LL@R. She wanted to point out that one of the a’s was missing, but she knew there wasn’t any point. The company’s CEO had a reputation for being eccentric and difficult. But he offered them a shot at traditional retail—one area of the PR market where Score had never had much luck finding clients.

      “They’re growing fast,” Kenny said. “They’re trendy and a lot of celebrities are wearing their clothes.”

      “The clothing is a secondary market for them,” Jack added. “Their main focus is sports gear. If we could get them, we could move toward bigger companies. Like REI.”

      Taryn would love to get her hands on a premium company like REI but the old cliché was true. They would have to learn to walk before they could learn to run.

      “What’s next?” she asked.

      “I have another meeting in a few days,” Kenny said.

      Taryn waited and sure enough, Jack stared at his friend. “I? I? Is that where we are? Each out for what we can get? What happened to the team? What happened to us being a family?”

      Kenny, all six feet four inches of blond brawn, groaned. “Give me a break. You know what I meant.”

      “Do I? Sounds to me like this is all about you.”

      “You need to be specific,” Sam said mildly, obviously content to join the mock argument. Taryn knew that any second now he would turn on Jack, because that’s what always happened when they were like this.

      They were each successful, good-looking and worth at least eight figures. Yet there were times when they were as unruly and mischievous as a litter of puppies. Sam and Jack were both dark-haired. Sam, the former kicker, was lean and just six feet tall. Jack had him by a couple of inches and at least thirty pounds of muscle. Jack’s classic quarterback physique—broad shoulders, narrow hips, long legs—had served him well, both on and off the field. Then there was Kenny, the gentle giant of the group.

      Her boys, she thought as they bickered. They were responsible for her move to Fool’s Gold—something she wasn’t sure she was willing to forgive just yet. The town wasn’t as bad as she’d first thought, but it sure wasn’t L.A. She loved L.A.

      “So I’ll be in charge?” Jack asked with a grin.

      “Your mama,” Kenny told him.

      “Don’t break anything,” Taryn said as she collected her papers and started for the door. Because whenever she heard “your mama,” body blows were sure to follow.

      Sam went with her. “Not going to try to stop them?” he asked cheerfully as they stepped into the hallway.

      “That would be your job.”

      Something hit the wall with a thud. Sam kept walking. “No, thanks.”

      “The three of you are never going to grow up, are you?” she asked.

      “I’m not the one fighting.”

      She glanced at him. “Not this time.”

      He gave her a wink, then sauntered away. Taryn continued to her office. In the distance, she heard a crash. She ignored it and checked her schedule for the day. She had a conference call at eleven and Graphics had asked for a few minutes.

      “Thanks,” Taryn said as she sat at her desk. She glanced at her computer. “Just another day in paradise.” And she loved every minute of it.

      The boys were her family, and no matter how many chairs, tables, windows and hearts they broke, she would stand by them. Even if every now and then she fantasized about how much more serene her life would be if she’d gone into business with a couple of pacifist guys who believed in the power of meditation for conflict resolution.

      Somewhere in the distance, glass shattered. Taryn continued to look at her computer screen as she kept on typing.

      CHAPTER TWO

      TARYN STACKED DISHES on the narrow counter. The kitchen was tiny. A miniature galley-style, with a three-quarter-sized stove and refrigerator. The colors were nice and the appliances updated, but still there wasn’t actually room for two people.

      “Explain this to me,” she said, unwrapping glasses and setting them next to the plates. “I sign the paychecks. I happen to know you could afford a bigger place.”

      Larissa Owens lifted a pot out of the box she’d put on the table. She’d pulled her long blond hair back into a ponytail and didn’t wear a speck of makeup. She was lithe and tan and looked amazing in yoga pants and a T-shirt. If Taryn didn’t already adore her, Larissa could be easy to hate.

      “I don’t need a bigger place,” her friend told her. “A small one-bedroom is plenty. The rent is really cheap so I’ll have more money for my causes.”

      Which was exactly what would happen, Taryn thought, picking up scissors and flipping the empty box so she could cut across the tape and then flatten it. Larissa was a giant bleeding heart when it came to causes, especially if there were animals involved. In addition to her full-time job, she volunteered at a couple of shelters, fostered dogs, cats and bunnies and sent money to nearly every organization that asked.

      Taryn