Fortune's Little Heartbreaker. Cindy Kirk

interested in a guy.”

      “Well, I’m not interested in Oliver, not in that way. This is strictly a business arrangement.”

      “Then why did you laugh?”

      “Because I don’t see Oliver as being a cold fish.”

      “Yeah, right.”

      “No. Seriously. He’s simply...British.”

      Rachel rolled her eyes and swiped a nacho off the plate.

      “Okay, so maybe he’s a bit uptight,” Shannon admitted. “But it wouldn’t take much to loosen him up.”

      “You go for it, sister.” Rachel’s red lips focused on something in the distance then curved upward in a sly smile. “In fact, there’s no better time to start than right now.”

      “Other than I’m occupied, enjoying this scrumptious plate of nachos and—” Shannon lifted the Corona “—this ice-cold beer with you. Oliver, on the other hand, is—”

      “Right behind you.”

      “What?”

      “Turn,” Rachel ordered.

      Shannon swiveled on the bar stool. She inhaled sharply and her heart began pumping in time to the sexy salsa beat.

      The man she’d been chatting with less than an hour earlier stood in the lobby. Ollie stood fidgeting at his side while Oliver chatted amiably with Wendy Fortune Mendoza and Marcos Mendoza, owners of the cantina. Wendy, looking as stylish as ever in a wrap dress of bright red with matching five-inch heels, clasped the hand of her three-year-old daughter, MaryAnne.

      Even as Shannon’s eyes were drawn to MaryAnne’s adorable pink-and-white-striped dress, she couldn’t help noticing the way Marcos’s hand rested lovingly on his wife’s shoulder or how hot Oliver looked.

      He’d changed his clothes, wearing yet another dark suit but this time coupled with a gray shirt and charcoal tie. Odd he hadn’t mentioned he had plans for the evening. He certainly hadn’t acted as if he was in a rush for her to leave. Quite the contrary.

      “Time to start warming up the iceberg,” Rachel said in a low tone.

      “Saying hello would be the polite thing to do,” Shannon agreed, ignoring Rachel’s snort of laughter.

      Placing her Corona bottle down, Shannon hopped off the stool and pulled a small round mirror from her bag. Before taking a step, she touched up her lipstick, then flashed Rachel a smile. “Back in five.”

      Rachel lifted a nacho heavy with beef and cheese and gestured to the platter. “Just warning you, these may be all gone when you get back.”

      “I will return to find both the nachos and my seat waiting.” Shannon pointed at her friend and spoke in an ominous voice suitable for any horror flick. “Or you will pay the price.”

      “No guarantee, Chickadee.” Rachel peered over the Corona bottle at Shannon and those baby blues twinkled. “If some sexy cowboy wants that stool, those chips or me, I’m sayin’ yes.”

      Shannon ignored the warning and turned, anticipation fueling her steps as she headed across the hardwood floor toward Oliver.