Fortune's Little Heartbreaker. Cindy Kirk

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      “This isn’t the foundation job. They won’t let us know until the end of the month, remember?” Shannon picked up a chip dripping with cheese and nibbled. “I’m going to be a nanny to Oliver Fortune Hayes’s son. It’s short-term but the position pays extremely well.”

      “Oh.” The tightness on Rachel’s face eased. “When do you start?”

      “I move in Sunday night.” Shannon popped the nacho into her mouth. “I asked him for a few days to get my stuff together and my bags packed.”

      “You’re moving in with him?” Rachel’s voice rose.

      Shannon quickly explained about the time difference and the need to be there to watch Ollie while Oliver was conducting business.

      “How did your folks take the news?”

      A twinkle of amusement danced in Rachel’s eyes. Like most Horseback Hollow natives, her friend knew Shannon’s parents were a bit on the conservative side.

      Shannon grimaced, not looking forward to that conversation. “They don’t know. Not yet. I was at Oliver’s place until I came here. All I can do is assure them it’s strictly business between us.”

      “Easy peasy.” Rachel waved a dismissive hand. “Five minutes in his presence and they’ll see it couldn’t be anything but business.”

      Shannon frowned. “What makes you say that?”

      “Think about how he stands, so straight and tall. It’s like he’s got a poker up his a—” Rachel stopped abruptly when she saw Pastor Dunbrook two stools away. She lowered her voice. “I’m just saying that while Oliver may look smokin’ hot—and sound just as good as he looks—he has that British thing going.”

      “British thing?”

      “Stiff upper lip and all that. Jolly good and tally-ho.” Rachel tapped two fingers against her lips. “Kissing him would probably be like kissing a corpse.”

      As if Rachel’s attempt at a proper British accent wasn’t hilarious enough, her describing Oliver as a cold fish made Shannon laugh.

      “What’s so funny?” Rachel tilted her head, and a speculative gleam shone in her eyes. “Have you already kissed him?”

      “Ra-chel.” The name was said with just the right touch of injured emotion and appeared to allay her friend’s suspicions. “I barely know the man.”

      “That wouldn’t stop me if I was 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.

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