Tame a Wild Stallion. Deborah Fletcher Mello

her and that man. The two barely knew each other, but she’d been excited at the prospect of getting to know him better. Mark Stallion had excited her and now she was reeling from the disappointment.

      Rising from her seat, Michelle moved into the small galley kitchen, searching the contents of her freezer. Tucked out of sight behind a stack of frozen dinners and a foil-wrapped package she couldn’t begin to identify was a pint of butter pecan ice cream. Pulling it and a spoon into her hands, Michelle returned to the television, dropping heavily back to her seat. Simon sat down beside her, and reached for the television remote that sat on the glass-topped end table.

      “Put it on the Speed Channel,” Michelle said as she scooped the first spoonful of frozen dessert into her mouth.

      Simon shook his head, a moment of confusion washing over his expression. “The Speed Channel?”

      Michelle spooned a second taste of ice cream into her mouth. “NASCAR’s on and, unlike most men, a good car race has never failed me.”

      Mark had been pacing the floor and ranting like a madman ever since Michelle had stormed out of Marah’s office. The woman had barely bothered to say goodbye as she’d made her exit. He’d been stunned, unable to think straight as Vanessa had commanded everyone’s full attention, feigning excitement about her fiancé Mark. The man heaved a deep sigh.

      “It’s your own fault,” Luke admonished. “What were you thinking?”

      “He wasn’t thinking. That’s half the problem,” Marah said. “I thought you liked Mitch?”

      “I did. I mean I do. I…It just…” Mark stammered, fumbling to form a complete sentence.

      Vanessa laughed. “I don’t know what you’re getting all worked up about,” she said, mirth gleaming in her pale eyes. “You told me you didn’t want any attachments so what’s the problem?”

      Mark stopped in his tracks, doing an about-face to stare at his friend. “And did you have to keep going on and on? And where did you get that damn ring?”

      Vanessa smiled, holding up the ring finger on her left hand and the four-carat cubic zirconia ring that adorned it. “Nice touch, huh?”

      Mark rolled his eyes. “Well, if you had just shut up for two seconds I might have been able to explain.”

      John chuckled. “Not likely. I didn’t get the impression that Mitch was hearing anything you had to say.”

      “And what about that?” Mark questioned, tossing his hands into the air. “Don’t you think she overreacted?”

      His big brother laughed. “I think you play too much. This is what happens when you play all the time.”

      Mark scowled, his expression showing his displeasure with his sibling’s assessment.

      Vanessa shrugged. “Well,” she said nonchalantly, “it could have been worse. Just imagine if I had come as your pregnant wife!”

      Mark woke early, no sign of morning light peeking through his bedroom windows. Opening his eyes, he struggled to focus then gave up, falling back against the mound of pillows as he closed his eyes tightly. His whole body felt as if he’d been run over by a Mack truck.

      Taking a deep inhalation he blew stale breath past his full lips then rolled over onto his side. No one had answered the telephone number that Luke had given him for Michelle. Each time he’d dialed and the phone had rung, Mark imagined her purposely avoiding his calls, still believing he was engaged to be married to the likes of Vanessa. Even his little brother had not been able to get through to her to help pave the way to an explanation and an apology.

      A wave of nausea rippled through Mark’s abdomen. He wanted to be sick but he fought the vile sensation. His night hadn’t gone at all the way he’d hoped. It had started on a grand high and then just like that the energy had deflated like a burst balloon gone awry.

      His family had been less than sympathetic over his dilemma and his buddy Vanessa had been the only one to find any humor in the moment. Mark rolled over onto his stomach, pressing his abs, chest and face tight against the mattress.

      Mark had no explanation for what he was feeling, but the past evening’s events were weighing heavy on his spirit. It wasn’t like this was the first time Vanessa had ever interceded on his behalf, saving him from what surely would have been a relationship disaster. And, if you had asked him before he’d met Michelle he would have told you that it wouldn’t have been the last time. But something about the beguiling woman had him totally unsettled, spiraling so far off his game that he couldn’t remember how to play.

      It was way too early to call her, he thought as he lifted his body slightly to peer at the digital clock on the nightstand. Then again, he thought, what did he have to lose? Maybe he’d get lucky and catch her off guard. Maybe she’d have a change of heart and he’d be able to explain that it had all been one bad mix-up. Maybe Michelle would have found the funny that had kept Vanessa doubled over with laughter. As Mark reached for his cell phone and hit the redial button all he could think was just maybe.

      Michelle wasn’t happy and her vile mood was far from pleasant. She’d tossed and turned most of the night, sleeping coming in sporadic doses. When she’d finally been able to fall into a deep slumber, the ringing telephone had wakened her, leaving her wide-eyed and evil.

      Caller ID had burst many a telemarketer’s dreams but Michelle had been more than grateful for the little invention. Recognizing the familiar number had kept her from answering the early-morning call, insuring that her bad mood wasn’t made worse with her cussing that man out.

      She’d been very tempted to pick up the call and cuss. Instead she’d disconnected the ringer on her telephone. Unable to fall back to sleep, she’d risen from her bed, had tossed on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and now she was standing in the center of the garage trying to decide which repair job she wanted to tackle first.

      Michelle rested her hands against her lean hips. Thinking about Mark Stallion and why she was in the garage at five o’clock in the morning only served to make her angrier. But she was not going to be moved by the pretty, rich boy who thought the world revolved around him and him alone. Clearly the man had too much time on his hands if he was able to play the games he seemed to be playing with her. As far as Michelle was concerned, Mark Stallion could call all he wanted. She had no intentions of ever answering.