Chapter One

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Fiona Lannigan loved to shop. She especially loved to shop for lingerie. Luckily, her good friends, Chantel and Angel Chandler, owned Fallen Angels, the best lingerie store in Whiskey River. One of them always let her know when a new shipment had come in. Today she had some time before her next client’s appointment to see what delightful new lingerie the Chandlers had for her to browse through.

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It was a weakness, she admitted. But it didn’t border on obsession. She just liked pretty things. Especially pretty things that lay next to her skin. So sue her.

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Fiona pushed open the door and stepped inside, appreciative as always of the décor of the shop. Feminine and tastefully sexy was a hallmark of Fallen Angels. The atmosphere was light and airy with the wares displayed on tables, hangers and mannequins and the scent something floral and spicy rather than sweet.

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“Just in time,” Chantel, the older sister said. “You beat the Valentine’s Day rush.”

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“Have I ever told you I love you?” Fiona asked, heading straight for the matching panties and bra sets.

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“Every time you come in,” her friend said. “We have some beautiful camisole sets, too.”

 

“I really shouldn’t,” Fiona said. “I have so many but I can’t resist.”

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“Why would you want to do that?”

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“I don’t, obviously,” Fiona said, and laughed.

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“Are you all set for the big Valentine’s Day dance?” Chantel asked.

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The Whiskey River Valentine’s Day dance was a tradition started many years before, when single men and women were few and far between. Every single person in town had their name tossed into a hat and was matched randomly with a person of the opposite sex. The drawing was held at the beginning of the dance, and the two people who matched were each other’s date for the evening.

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Fiona shuddered, remembering the year before. “I’m going to have the flu.”

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“You’d better not. Angel and I are the match coordinators this year.”

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“Damn. I forgot about that.”

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“Don’t worry. We’ll make sure you get someone good.” Chantel smirked and added, “I know just the person.”

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“No thanks,” Fiona said, remembering all the men her friends had tried to set her up with. “I’ll take my chances with a random match.” To distract Chantel, she grabbed a pale pink cami set and held the hanger under her chin. “What do you think?”

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Chantel considered her for a moment. “You look like cotton candy. It washes you out.”

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“I like cotton candy,” Fiona said.

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“So do I, but not to wear. Here,” she said, handing her an emerald green set. “You need vibrant colors.”

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Fiona looked in the mirror as she held it up against her. “I hate when you’re right. Fine, ring it up. And these, too,” she said, adding a couple of bra and panty sets and to the pile. She looked at her watch. “I’ve got a meeting but I’ll be back later to see what else is new.”

Late that afternoon, Fiona decided to look at her purchases again before going back by Fallen Angels. She’d been in a hurry when she bought them and there was at least one set she thought she could live without. None of her partners at the law offices of Gamble, Lannigan and Ford were in, so she was alone in the office. Ryder Ford and his wife, Addison, their new junior partner, had left early. Johnny Gamble was off somewhere and who knew when he’d return. She’d let their new paralegal have a long lunch after her clients left.

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When she, Johnny and Ryder had formed their partnership a number of years before, they’d converted an old house in the heart of town into the law offices of their firm. Fiona liked being alone in the offices. In fact, she liked being alone period.

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Taking each item out of the bag, she carefully unwrapped the paper and laid each one out on her desk. The emerald green camisole was a definite. She liked both the bra and panty sets, but on closer inspection she realized the bra of one of them was a style she didn’t like. She hadn’t noticed in the store. With the panties dangling from her hand, she held the other bra up against her chest. Siren red. Very Valentine’s Day.

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“Who’s the lucky man?”

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Startled, she whirled around to see Johnny Gamble lounging in her doorway. “You scared me to death. I didn’t hear you come in.” Damn it. Johnny was the last person she wanted to find her displaying her lingerie.

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“Obviously.” He strolled over to her and picked up the camisole from her desk. “Very pretty. I repeat, who’s the lucky man?”

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Realizing she was still holding the bra against her boobs, she hastily dropped her hand. Crap, she was blushing. How dumb was that? “Wouldn’t you like to know.” Lame, Fiona. Very lame.

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He sent her a speculative look. “That’s a good color on you,” he said, waving a hand at the red bra and panties still in her hand.

 

A vignette popped into her mind, involving Johnny and her and a very sexy red bra and panties. Do not go there.

 

He grinned at her. That sexy smile kicked up at the corner of his mouth. The mouth that, in her weaker moments, she fantasized about kissing. Again. She hoped like hell he couldn’t read her mind, but she wouldn’t put it past him. Was she imagining the heat in his gaze?

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She and Johnny had never been romantically involved. They worked together and their careers were too important to each of them to chance messing up a good thing. Not that she hadn’t thought about it on occasion.

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Not that something hadn’t almost happened on several occasions. The latest just last week. They had worked late and Johnny had picked up Chinese take out, she remembered. And wine. Which they’d agreed didn’t mix with business, but he’d done it anyway. And of course, she’d drunk it anyway. Before long they were telling each other worst date ever stories, their work forgotten.

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“You have sweet and sour sauce on your face,” Johnny said.

 

Fiona touched her cheek with her tongue. “Did that get it?”

 

“Other side.”

 

She repeated it on the other side. “Now?”

 

He shook his head, smiling. Green eyes sparkling, he touched his thumb to the corner of her mouth. And then he licked his thumb. “Tasty. Very tasty.”

 

Fiona felt an electric zing at his words and action. A reaction no other man had drawn from her in a long, long, time.

 

This was all Johnny’s fault. Ever since that damn kiss under the mistletoe she couldn’t look at him the same. And he knew it.

 

“Third time’s the charm,” Johnny said, looking at her intently. “Who’s the lucky man?”

 

“There is no man. At the moment.” He knew she wasn’t dating anyone. Why bother to lie?

 

“Now that, darlin’, is a terrible shame.”

 

#

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“Maybe you’ll get lucky tomorrow night and find Mr. Right at the dance,” Johnny said. That would be a mixed blessing for him. Fiona was a crackerjack. Smart as a whip and she played a wicked game of poker, but, and this was the big problem as far as he saw it—she was too damned hot.

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Johnny had learned the hard way that he wasn’t the settling down kind, but then, neither was Fiona. Still, they worked together, which meant things could get sticky if they got together and then parted ways.

 

“Doubtful,” Fiona said. “I love the tradition but there is a part of me that doesn’t really believe that anything lasting can come out of meeting a man at a dance and falling for him.”

 

“Stranger things have happened,” Johnny said.

 

“Like what?”

 

“Kissing your boss in a tornado closet and falling in love,” Johnny said, mentioning the way their partner, Ryder, and his new wife, Addison, had gotten together.

 

“Indeed. Somehow I think this is different.”

 

“Not if you are wearing that under your clothes,” he said.

 

“I always wear pretty lingerie, Johnny,” she said. “So far nothing magical has happened.”

 

“Maybe that’s because you have more no trespassing signs than an abandoned building,” he said. What was her deal? And why was he looking at Fiona and thinking of romance and not poker or business? He knew the answer. Damned wine and dinner had changed the way he saw her. Or rather reminded him very fiercely that she’d never been only a co-worker.

 

From the moment she’d walked into his contracts class at the law school of the University of Texas, he’d been under her spell. Those long legs of hers and the short skirts she wore at work had kept him fully entrenched in the fantasy of someday until that night…one kiss. He had hung some mistletoe in the office and that was his downfall. He groaned.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing,” he said. No way was he admitting that she’d tasted like the holidays that night. Eggnog and cinnamon and she smelled like home. Their lips had met and he’d forgotten to keep it casual, that they were partners; all he’d wanted was to toss her over his shoulder and carry her into his office and make love to her on his desk.

 

But he’d pulled back and since then…well, things had been damned awkward for him. It was one thing to lust after a woman he was casually acquainted with, another entirely to be looking at Fiona and her cursed lingerie set and seeing her in his mind. Just that red balconette bra and those silky matching panties. Her thick blonde hair hanging around

her shoulders and those pouty lips of hers beckoning him closer, calling his name…

 

“Johnny?”

 

“Huh?” he asked, not really paying attention.

 

“Snap out of it, Gamble. Carmen just buzzed to say your two o’clock is here.”

 

Johnny took a step closer to Fiona and reached around her to hit the intercom button on her phone. “Hey, Carmen, will you put them in the conference room and offer them a drink? I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

 

He disconnected the intercom but stayed where he was, close to Fiona. Her perfume was flowery and womanly. It did nothing to quell the desire he felt for her. It simply fanned the flames.

 

“Are you wearing that to the dance?” he asked.

 

“None of your business,” she said.

 

“Fair enough. I just…”

 

“Just what? You’re the one who said that we had to work together and mistletoe kisses and wine in the office were mistakes,” she reminded him.

 

He still felt that way. He’d let one woman into his life and that had been a mistake. He hadn’t been cut out for domesticity more than ten years ago and he was honest enough to admit that though he’d matured and grown as a lawyer, as a man he still didn’t feel ready for that. And he knew that dating Fiona didn’t mean marriage but there was something about her that had always made him want more. Much more.

 

“I did,” Johnny said. “Your mouth has a way of making me forget.”

 

Her lips parted as she tipped her head back. “How does it do that?”

 

“By making me remember how good it felt under mine,” he said.

 

“Maybe it was the alcohol,” she said.

 

“No, it was you,” he admitted.

 

“Me?”

 

“You.”

 

He put his hand on her shoulder, caught a tendril of her silky hair between his thumb and forefinger and then lowered his head. The kiss was meant to be soft and light but a zing arched between them and he groaned as his blood started to flow heavier in his veins and his groin responded.

 

Her lips parted under his and his tongue slid in to taste her. It definitely hadn’t been the alcohol that had enticed him. It was Fiona.

 

Suddenly he realized the problem was that he’d been denying the both of them this.

They wanted each other and he’d never been a coward about anything else.

He lifted his head, rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. “What do you say to a little wager?”

 

“I’m game,” she said; her cheeks had a pretty pink flush on them.

 

“If you don’t meet Mr. Right tomorrow night at the ball, we give it a shot,” he said.

 

“A shot? Stop with the romance or I’ll melt into a puddle,” she said, stepping back to put some distance between them.

 

“Do you need romance?” he asked.

 

“If you have to ask then you’re not the man I thought you were,” she said.

 

“I can bring the romance but I don’t really know Fiona the woman, just the hard-as-nails attorney.”

 

“If you can’t handle the challenge…”

 

He threw his head back and laughed, then pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard and quick. He heard someone clearing his throat. He lifted his head and let Fiona’s hair drop from his fingers, stepping away from her to greet the intruder.

 

“Damn, son, I know that we have a pretty open fraternization policy in the office, but you

are meeting the Cole brothers and they aren’t patient men,” Ryder said from the doorway.

 

“Mind your own business, Ford,” Fiona said. “Johnny, get back to work.” Fiona moved behind her desk, all-professional now. She had tucked her lingerie back into the bag and chewed on her lower lip briefly.

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“Yes, ma’am,” he said, walking toward the door. “Oh, and Fiona?”

 

“Yes?” she asked one eyebrow arched at him.

 

“Challenge accepted.”

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