Natalie Hart has sworn off love and basketball.

All sports, for that matter. Her pro-athlete husband cheated on her—and she’s not sure she’ll ever be ready to give her heart again. Now she’s single and working at a children’s charity, and it’s not just event planning that has her putting in overtime. Local football celebrity Michael Jones is organizing a gala affair with Natalie. And the sexy jock has made it crystal clear he’d like to kick off with seduction. But can Natalie let down her guard and fall for another professional athlete?

Michael Jones is used to women falling at his multimillion-dollar, cleat-covered feet. But Natalie is giving him a run for his money. With the vulnerable beauty arousing his fierce protective instincts—and a desire neither has the power to resist—Michael is ready to let his playboy past go. If Natalie’s willing, together they can surrender to their future. Body, heart and soul.

“Or are you really afraid that if I kiss you, you’ll no longer be able to deny what you feel?”

Natalie guffawed. But she didn’t look at him again. She couldn’t. She knew that he would see into her soul and know exactly what she was feeling.

He relaxed one of his arms and placed his finger beneath her chin, forcing her face upward. “Hmm?”

“That is the most ridiculous—”

“Is it?”

He held her gaze for several beats, the look a challenge in itself. One that said, Bet you can’t look away.

And darn it, she couldn’t.

His finger delicately moved from her chin along the base of her jaw, causing Natalie to suck in a sharp breath. And then, before she knew what was happening, Michael lowered his mouth onto hers.

It wasn’t yet the Fourth of July, but Natalie was undeniably feeling sparks. Seeing them explode behind her closed eyelids. The touch of his mouth against hers…had anything ever felt this good?

Why did she feel such a rush of undeniable, insane attraction for this man?

Michael’s mouth parted against hers. His sexy full lips felt incredible. And then he suckled her bottom lip, and she felt dizzy from the desire his kiss was awakening in her.

Natalie actually moaned in disappointment when he pulled back, leaving her stunned and speechless. Like someone who had been unexpectedly struck by a flying piece of debris, Natalie stared at him in awe, almost unable to comprehend what had just happened.

His lips curling in the slightest of smiles, he said, “Well?”

KAYLA PERRIN

has been writing since the age of thirteen and once entertained the idea of becoming a teacher. Instead, she has become a USA TODAY and Essence bestselling author of dozens of mainstream and romance novels and has been recognized for her talent, including twice winning Romance Writers of America’s Top Ten Favorite Books of the Year Award. She has also won a Career Achievement Award for multicultural romance from RT Book Reviews. Kayla lives with her daughter in Ontario, Canada. Visit her at www.KaylaPerrin.com.

Surrender My Heart

Kayla Perrin

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Dear Reader,

Welcome to book two of the Harts in Love series!

If you’ve been in love, chances are you’ve had your heart broken. Sometimes, we choose someone for superficial reasons, which of course will lead to heartbreak. Other times, we follow our heart and still get hurt. And sometimes, we choose a partner as a way to escape a situation in our lives.

That’s what Natalie, the youngest Hart sister, does. Wanting an escape from her past, she hopes that marriage to a man who seems to have it all together will provide her with the happiness and security she craves. But it’s only a recipe for disaster.

But even heartbreak gives you a chance to grow and learn. Once you realize that you shouldn’t close your heart off to love, that’s when you open yourself up to the possibility of real happiness.

Will Natalie take that chance? I’m excited to present her story to you, and I hope you enjoy it!

Happy reading!

Kayla

For all those who have suffered heartbreak

but haven’t given up on love.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 1

Natalie Hart snatched the phone from the wall mount in the kitchen the moment she saw Nigel Williams’s name displayed on the caller ID.

“Nigel, thank God,” she said without preamble, gripping the phone tightly, desperate for word about her sister’s condition. “How is she? How’s Callie?”

Nigel sighed wearily before speaking. “She’s okay.” His voice sounded strained, as if he was trying to be brave. “Patrick Jackson did a number on her—he is lucky I didn’t get to him before the Tallahassee police did—but Callie is strong. The doctors say her injuries are mostly superficial and she’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure?” Natalie asked. Yesterday, she had heard the words beaten and concussion and been terrified. “Because if we need to head down there, Deanna and I will be on the next pl—”

“No, that’s not necessary. We won’t be here more than another day. By the time you’d get here, you’d have to turn right back around. So it makes more sense for you to wait until we get back to Cleveland.”

Deanna, who waited in the kitchen with Natalie, was biting down on her bottom lip and watching her sister closely. “What’s he saying?”

“He’s says that Callie is going to be okay,” Natalie explained. “That we don’t have to head to Tallahassee.” She paused. “Nigel, are you sure? Because I know Callie might not want us to go out of our way, but we—we’re family.” Her voice cracked around the word family, which suddenly meant so much more now that she and her sisters had reunited. “We need to be there for her.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Nigel told her. “I know you’re worried, but I wouldn’t lie to you about this. If you needed to be here, I’d tell you.”

Natalie’s shoulders sagged with relief. She believed Nigel, knowing he wouldn’t sugarcoat the severity of their sister’s injuries.

“What exactly happened?” Deanna asked. She began to pace the small kitchen at Uncle Dave’s house, where she and Natalie had been staying since the death of their auntie Jean. “How did this Patrick guy get to Callie in the first place? My God, she could have been killed!”

Nigel, who had clearly heard Deanna’s question, said, “That’s a story Callie will have to tell. I’m not sure of all the details. But tell Deanna not to worry. I’ve got it under control. Callie is in good hands. I’m taking her home as soon as I can.”

Taking her home… The words caused a small smile to form on Natalie’s lips. Just over a month ago, she, Callie and Deanna had returned to Cleveland for their aunt’s funeral after being away for several years. The three of them had been estranged for far too long, and sadly it took their aunt’s passing to bring them together again.

Auntie Jean’s funeral had also led to Callie and Nigel reuniting. Ten years ago, Natalie had been certain that Callie would marry Nigel. It hadn’t taken a psychologist to determine that the way they looked at one another proved they had a very deep and special connection.

But then Callie had up and left Cleveland, abandoning her sisters, her aunt and uncle, and Nigel. No one had known she was pregnant with Nigel’s child at the time, least of all Nigel. Natalie had assumed that Callie had left to get away from her and Deanna, who had been foolishly feuding over a guy. But she’d also had problems of her own and had run to escape them. However, the two of them had never stopped loving each other—no surprise to Natalie—because after so many years apart, they had finally worked out their differences together. Natalie knew it couldn’t have been easy, especially not when Nigel felt betrayed at having never known he had a son. But the love between them was still there, and in the end, that love was greater than any of the pain. Now Callie and Nigel were moving forward as a family, not backward. Which was especially wonderful for their son, Kwame, who would now finally have his father in his life.

Natalie couldn’t help reflecting on her own marital relationship. While Callie had reunited with her true love, Natalie and her husband of two years had recently split. That special love Callie had found with Nigel was definitely not the kind of love Natalie had found with her cheating husband, Vance.

“Natalie?”

At the sound of Nigel’s voice, Natalie realized her mind had drifted. It was hard to stop thoughts of Vance from invading her brain, considering their breakup was still fresh. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

“Just that Callie wants me to make sure you and Deanna don’t worry. Patrick Jackson is behind bars, and he won’t be going anywhere for a long, long time.”

Patrick—the estranged husband of Callie’s best friend, Tamara—had retaliated against Callie for trying to help Tamara escape him.

Deanna stopped pacing and extended her hand to Natalie. Despite the reassuring words Natalie had told her, Deanna looked worried to the point of being ill. “Let me talk to him.”

Natalie passed her sister the phone. And as Deanna began to speak to Nigel, Natalie took up the job of pacing the kitchen floor as Deanna had been doing.

To say that the last eighteen hours had been nerve-racking was an understatement—learning that Callie had been attacked by a madman in Tallahassee, that she was injured and in hospital. Then making the decision to stay behind to comfort their uncle, who couldn’t handle another loss after so recently losing his wife, when all Natalie and Deanna had wanted to do was get to Tallahassee as quickly as possible. The hours that passed were agonizing as they waited for Nigel and Kwame to arrive in Florida so that Nigel could give them an update. Yes, they had heard from Tamara more than once that Callie was in stable condition, but hearing from Nigel would be the much-needed additional confirmation that Callie was going to be all right.

And even still, while Nigel’s phone call brought the news they so desperately wanted, hearing their sister was okay wasn’t quite the same as seeing with their own eyes.

Perhaps that was a side effect of having a mother walk out of your life and never come back. You needed to see things in order to believe them.

I’ll be back for you soon, my darlings. I promise.

But despite their mother’s promise, she had never returned.

“Natalie and I don’t mind heading down there,” Deanna was saying. “In fact, I feel guilty that we didn’t. I know our uncle needed us here, but we should be there for Callie, too.”

Natalie looked at her sister, who was leaning against the wall. Deanna wiped a tear from her eye. Natalie understood how she felt. Having lost their mother years ago, and with their auntie Jean dying so recently, neither of them wanted to endure another loss in the family—especially not now when they had just reunited.

“Okay,” Deanna said, nodding. “It’s just that we’re so worried. Callie didn’t deserve this. I can’t believe anyone would hurt her in this way.”

Seeing her sister distressed caused Natalie’s stomach to twist as she relived the moment she heard that Callie had been attacked.

But then she said silently, Callie’s alive, Callie’s alive, reminding herself of what was important.

“Well, she should have let the police handle it,” Deanna said into the phone. “Wishful thinking, I know. Callie’s never been the kind to take a backseat in any situation.”

Natalie couldn’t help shaking her head. Oh, that sister of hers. Callie was always charging in to save the day. It was a role she played as the oldest sibling, protecting her and Deanna when their mother left them with their auntie Jean that day so long ago. Callie had offered assurances that their mother was okay and would keep her promise. She was fiercely protective of her younger sisters, always stepping in when anyone gave them any hassle.

A smile touched Natalie’s lips as she vividly recalled Callie charging up to Allan Cobb the day after he’d snapped the head off of Natalie’s favorite doll at school. Callie had pushed the nine-year-old class bully into a puddle of mud in front of a crowd—not caring that it meant a trip to the principal’s office. Callie never regretted her actions, because as a result Allan never bothered Natalie again.

As a teen, Callie had joined all kinds of groups to help those in need, and proudly protested against injustice. She wasn’t the kind of person who could sit back and do nothing with so much inequality in the world.

From what Natalie understood, Callie’s best friend, Tamara, had been in trouble—the woman’s possessive ex posed a threat to her life—and Callie had done what came naturally to her. She immediately took a flight to Florida to help her friend, only to find herself in the middle of a domestic dispute.

“So you really don’t need us to come down there?” Deanna asked.

“Wait a minute,” Deanna suddenly said, her tone of voice changing to shock. “What?”

Natalie paused in her pacing to stare at her sister with interest.

“Please tell me you’re kidding.” Deanna’s eyes bulged as she drew in a horrified gasp. “No, Nigel. No…”

“What is it?” Natalie asked. Though her heart was already racing. In the minutes that Nigel had been talking to Deanna, had Callie’s situation taken a turn for the worse?

“Rodney Cook,” Deanna said, mentioning the name of their mother’s ex-boyfriend, the one Miriam Hart had been running from. “Nigel just said that he was stabbed in prison yesterday!”

The words were like a physical blow to Natalie’s stomach. Rodney Cook had been stabbed? The one man who could provide the clues that would lead to finding their mother?

“No,” Natalie wailed. “God, no. Not after finally locating him! Is he dead?”

Deanna held up a hand to silence Natalie as she listened diligently to what Nigel was saying.

After their auntie Jean’s passing, Natalie and her sisters had learned of a letter their aunt had left for them, one that gave all of them hope that their mother was alive somewhere. For Natalie, the letter had proven what she’d always believed in her heart—that their mother wouldn’t just up and leave them without a compelling reason.

And it turned out that their mother had left to protect them, because she’d been dating a guy who was involved in criminal activity, someone she had planned to testify against. Testifying against that kind of person could have dire repercussions, not just for the witness, but also for anyone the witness cared about. Miriam knew that Rodney might try to retaliate against her children as a way to punish her, so she had left her children with her sister in order to protect them.

The problem was, Rodney Cook was the only person they knew of who might know their mother’s whereabouts and the friends she’d had twenty-three years ago when she’d taken Natalie and her sisters from Cincinnati to Cleveland to stay with their aunt.

“So he’s going to be okay?” Deanna asked. “Because he can’t die…not before we even have a chance to talk to him!”

Natalie held her breath as she waited for Deanna to say more.

“Thank God,” Deanna finally uttered. Then to Natalie she said, “Nigel says Rodney is alive, and they’re keeping him in a guarded hospital room. Nigel stressed to the authorities there that Rodney needs to stay alive.”

Natalie simply nodded, her heart pounding furiously from the moment of fright that their only lead regarding their mother had just been lost.

“All I can say is that it definitely pays to have a cop in the family,” Deanna went on. “Maybe we can all head to California to question him.”

There was silence, and then Deanna shook her head. “No, of course not. We wouldn’t think of going anywhere until you’re back with Callie.” Deanna paused and her eyes misted. “No, let her get her rest. Tell her we love her and we’ll talk to her a bit later. Bye, Nigel.”

When Deanna hung up, Natalie went to her sister and took her hands in hers. Her own eyes filled with tears as she squeezed Deanna’s hands. “Good Lord, what a crazy twenty-four hours.”

“Tell me about it,” Deanna agreed.

“But at least the news is good on both fronts. Callie is going to be fine, and it sounds like Rodney will be, too.”

“Mercury must be in retrograde,” Deanna commented.

“Huh?”

“You know…astrology.” When Natalie looked at her blankly, Deanna said, “Forget it.”

Ah, that’s right, Natalie mused, a memory coming to her. Deanna and her horoscopes. She’d been into astrology as a young teen, always blaming the good or bad in her life on how the planets had aligned.

“The bottom line is, even though bad things happened today, the outcome is still positive,” Deanna said. “God was watching out for Callie. And for Rodney.”

“Exactly,” Natalie agreed. “The positive happened for a reason. It’s a sign from above that we have to keep believing. And I believe it, Deanna.” Natalie’s throat filled with emotion. “We’re going to find our mother—after all these years!”

Deanna nodded, but her expression instantly changed from excited to cautious. “I want to believe that, but—”

“Then believe it,” Natalie told her. “We can’t allow ourselves to think the worst.”

For Natalie, Rodney surviving the stabbing was further proof that they would find their mother. She knew that her sisters were more wary in general, fearing that their mother might not be found alive. After all, twenty-three years had passed since she had left them with their aunt. According to Callie, that was enough time for her to come out of hiding, no matter how afraid she was.

Natalie had to believe otherwise, that her mother had good reason to continue to stay out of their lives. And not because she was cold in a grave somewhere.

She could accept nothing else.

The doorbell rang. Deanna hurried through the kitchen exit, saying, “I’ll get it.”

Moments later, she said, “Natalie, it’s for you.”

“Me?” Natalie asked, making her way to the door.

A man in a suit stood on the porch, holding a large envelope and a clipboard. “Are you Natalie Cooper?”

“Yes,” she said, tentative.

“I have a delivery for you,” he said. “You’ll need to sign here.”

He handed her the clipboard, indicated where she needed to sign, and Natalie obliged. All the while, she wondered what on earth could have been delivered to her at her aunt and uncle’s home.

He took the clipboard, then gave her the envelope. “Have a good day.”

And then he was off.

Both Natalie and Deanna watched him get into a dark-colored sedan. Once he’d driven off, Natalie tore open the envelope’s seal.

“What was that about?” Deanna asked.

“I’m about to find out.” But Natalie had a sneaking suspicion whatever was in the envelope had to do with Vance’s text message the previous day. He’d asked for the address of where she was staying so he could send her important mail that had come for her.

She withdrew the papers. “I guess he’s filed for divorce,” Natalie said, trying to sound nonchalant as her eyes scanned the papers.

But something was wrong. Because while she wasn’t a lawyer, she noticed the papers didn’t say anything about a divorce petition.

Rather, page one of what was undoubtedly a legal document read Decree of Divorce. Now her eyes frantically took in the rest.

“Oh, my God,” Natalie uttered. Her insides began to twist violently. Vance had been given an uncontested divorce decree by the state of Nevada.

“What?” Deanna asked.

“Vance…he divorced me.”

Deanna made a face. “You mean he’s filed for divorce.”

Natalie handed her sister the papers, then went to the nearby living room and sank onto a sofa.

“But I don’t understand,” Deanna said after a while. “How could he get a divorce so quickly? And why in Nevada?”

“Obviously you can get rid of your wife in no time in Nevada.”

“But you don’t live there.”

“No.” Natalie’s mind began connecting the dots that were slowly coming together in her mind. “But we have a house there. Oh, that jerk! He must have used having a home there as a way to claim residency.”

Looking confused, Deanna’s eyes went over the pages again. A minute later, she spoke. “From what I see here, it looks like Vance claimed he tried to serve you papers but couldn’t find you, so the courts granted him an uncontested divorce. However, you are within your rights to contest it, have the case heard before the courts.”

Natalie waved a hand. “No.”

“But there’s property, none of which is mentioned in this agree—”

“I don’t care.” Natalie dragged a hand over her face. “Vance wants to get rid of me so quickly, let him have it all.”

“I used to date a lawyer,” Deanna said. “You have rights, sis. Do not let Vance walk all over you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Natalie said. “I have an account that’s mine. He used to give me an allowance—you know, money to go spend on myself shopping or with the other players’ wives. I wasn’t interested in spending my days acting like the spoiled wife of a basketball player. So I saved what he gave me for a rainy day.” She paused. “I guess this is my rainy day.”

And then Natalie started to cry.

Deanna sat beside her on the sofa and wrapped an arm around her. “Oh, sis. I’m so sorry.”

Natalie turned her face into Deanna’s shoulder, taking comfort from her sister as she cried.

Then the profoundness of this moment hit Natalie. Years ago, she had seduced Deanna’s boyfriend. That had to led to a ten-year rift between the sisters. Now here was Deanna offering her comfort over a marriage that had fallen apart due to infidelity.

“I’m not crying over Vance,” Natalie said through her tears. “Really, I’m not. I guess…I guess I’m just mourning the dream.”

And rationally, Natalie knew that was true. Because she had started mourning the loss of her marriage a long time ago. Shortly after she’d said “I do” two years ago, she had sensed that Vance had only married her so she would be eye candy on his arm.

Natalie wasn’t a fool. She had the kind of looks that caused men to crash their cars into light poles, she knew that. But she didn’t let those looks define her.

And she had hoped that when she’d met superstar basketball player Vance Cooper that he was different—that he had seen past her looks and into her fragile heart.

A heart made fragile because of her mother’s abandonment at the tender age of five.

Instead, Vance had become more and more distant after their wedding extravaganza, and Natalie suspected his infidelity within six months of marrying her. So when she had learned that Vance was sleeping with Olivia, her best friend, she hadn’t been so much surprised as betrayed.

“I don’t think he ever loved me,” Natalie said, wiping at her tears.

“He must have,” Deanna said. “How could he not? Look at you—you’re stunning.”

“Looks mean nothing.”

“Really?” Deanna countered. “Tell that to all the men who’ve lost their heads when they’ve looked at you.”

Natalie was certain Deanna was referring at least in part to Marvin, the man Natalie had selfishly seduced over ten years ago. She still wasn’t sure why she had hurt her sister like that, except that she had been at a low point in her life, needing to feel alive and desirable.

“Yet here I am,” Natalie said, pushing the memory from her mind. “Divorced by a husband who only cared to get rid of me as quickly as he could. Like our mother,” Natalie added without thinking.

Deanna eased back so she could look at her. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe Callie is right. Maybe our mother left us because she didn’t want us.”

“Okay, now I know that’s grief talking,” Deanna said. “Because out of all of us, you were the one who never stopped believing there was a reason for our mother’s disappearance. And now we know there was. So it’s not the time to lose hope.”

“I know,” Natalie said, sniffling. “It’s just…I thought Vance respected me more than this.”

“Vance is clearly an idiot,” Deanna said. “And a coward. I know it hurts, Nat, but trust me when I say there’s no point crying over a man who didn’t value you. Soon enough, you’ll meet the man you’re meant to be with.”

Now Natalie gave her sister a skeptical look. “What makes you say that?”

“Your horoscope this morning,” Deanna answered, her voice filled with certainty. “It said a new love was on the horizon for Scorpios.”

Natalie rolled her eyes, but at least she smiled.

“Don’t give me that look, sis. You mark my words. You’re going to find someone else. It’s written in the stars.”

Chapter 2

By the next morning, Natalie was in better spirits—despite the front-page news that had confronted her. Wisely, Deanna had taken her downtown to shop at quaint boutique shops in order to take her mind off what had happened with Vance. Retail therapy, her sister had called it, and it was working.

They were currently in a hat shop owned by a local designer, perusing the large selection of funky hats.

“Oh, what about this one?” Natalie asked, taking a wide-brimmed purple hat off of the rack and placing it on her head. “This, with large sunglasses—it’ll help me be incognito.”

“It’ll also cause someone to lose an eye. It’s a cute hat, but whoa, could it be any wider?”

“It’s exactly what I need,” Natalie said. “After that front-page announcement about Vance and Olivia this morning…”

“Eh,” Deanna said, throwing up a hand. “We’re not going to talk about that, remember?”

“But the front page of the paper here in Cleveland? That’s what I don’t understand. Why does anyone here care about my marriage to Vance?”

“Because we used to live here,” Deanna supplied. “And you married one of the most successful players in the NBA. But we’re not talking about it, remember?”

Not talking about it was a lot easier said than done. Because Natalie could avoid the truth all she wanted, it was still there. The magnitude of Vance’s betrayal had been published for all the world to read.

But at least this morning, instead of feeling sad as she had the day before, she was feeling anger. Vance had rushed their divorce only to announce the very next day that he and his mistress were engaged.

“All I can say,” Natalie went on, “is that they deserve each other. If Olivia is dumb enough to believe that he’ll ever be faithful to her…”

Deanna plugged her ears with her fingers. “Not listening to any talk about Vance.”

“Okay, I get it. No more Vance talk.” Natalie put the purple hat down, then went to something smaller. A cute, casual hat made of straw. “I kind of like this one. It’s the perfect summer hat.”

“Oh, that is cute,” Deanna agreed.

“Here, try it on.” Natalie put the hat on her sister’s head.

Deanna checked out her reflection in a nearby mirror, and nodded. “Definitely cute.”

Natalie took the hat from her sister’s head and put it on her own. Looking into the mirror, she nodded. “Yep, this is a keeper.”

“If you ask me, she’s probably pregnant,” Deanna said as she turned and began walking toward another display of hats. “That’s my two cents…but I’m not talking about it.”

Natalie stopped dead in her tracks. As the reality of what Deanna had said hit her, she felt her stomach roil.

“I’m sorry,” Deanna went on, catching Natalie’s expression. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m probably wrong…”

“Actually, you’re probably right.” Natalie walked past her sister to the window, where something had caught her eye. Some sort of commotion. She saw a woman with a microphone and was instantly worried.

But when she got to the window, she saw that the woman was approaching a tall, gorgeous man who had just stepped out of a black 7 Series BMW with dark, tinted windows.

“What is it?” Deanna asked, coming to stand beside Natalie and also looking out the window.

“I saw a reporter outside. For a minute, I thought…” Her voice trailed off, the idea suddenly seeming stupid to her. “As if I’m that important.”

“Ooh, I see you ladies are checking out Michael Jones,” came a woman’s dreamy voice.

Natalie and Deanna turned to see Edna, the hat designer and shop owner, standing next to them. You would think that the fifty-something redhead had been hit by Cupid’s arrow, that’s how enamored she looked.

And for a long moment, Natalie allowed herself to enjoy the view of one of the finest men she had seen in ages. Tall, at least six foot three, with a cool confidence that oozed sex appeal. Black slacks covered a seriously fit behind, and hugged thighs that were muscular and strong. His well-sculpted biceps were revealed beneath the hem of his expensive-looking short-sleeved shirt. Having been married to Vance Cooper, Natalie recognized high-priced clothing even without seeing a label. And from the man’s fine Italian shoes to his dark sunglasses, everything on Michael’s body was undoubtedly created by a renowned designer.

Natalie cleared her throat and said, “I wasn’t checking him out.” She pretended to be intrigued by a felt pink cowgirl hat. “Just wondering what was with the reporter.”

“That’s probably just a random woman with a store-bought microphone, hoping to get close to Michael,” the shop owner said with a giggle. “Michael Jones is one of the star’s of this city’s NFL team, and women do anything to get to him. Wide receiver. Very talented.”

Of course, Natalie thought, wondering how she hadn’t pegged him as a professional athlete. I’m sure he’s very talented in many ways, was her next sour thought.

“He comes by here quite often, because he’s got a restaurant a few doors over,” the designer went on. “A soul food place. Bought it for his cousin to run, and unlike some of those other stuck-up athletes, he drops by a lot. It thrills the fans.”

“I’m sure,” Natalie quipped. Then she promptly turned around. The brother was fine…no doubt about it…but she was in no mood to ogle a professional athlete.

“Sorry to talk your ear off,” Edna said. “I’ll leave you to your shopping. I guess I’m as guilty as all the other women in this town. When Michael Jones comes around, I have to get a glimpse.”

“I can see why,” Deanna said.

Edna shrugged sheepishly, then added, “I’m here if you need any help.”

“We’re good,” Natalie told her. Moving away from the window, she saw another interesting hat. She picked up the baseball styled cap adorned with gems and glitter. The word love was written in glitter, which only made Natalie think about Vance again.

“Pregnant,” she mumbled to herself. “My God, it makes sense.”

“I was only speculating,” Deanna said. “Which was really silly. Because without any pr—”

“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” Natalie went on, as though Deanna had just confirmed that she had heard rumors Olivia was pregnant. “Seriously, I shouldn’t be surprised. Vance is capable of anything.”

“Me and my big mouth,” Deanna said. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to talk about Vance. You’re only getting more upset.”

“How can I not be upset? Why else would Vance divorce me without even the courtesy of letting me know ahead of time? Obviously because he got that tramp pregnant.”

“That hat I like,” Deanna said, trying to change the subject. “Yeah, real different.”

“I’m taking it.” Natalie walked back to the large purple one and picked that up, as well. Then she picked up a white cloth hat she hadn’t even tried on and walked with the items toward the front register.

“Lovely choices,” the designer told her. “Now, I don’t know if you had a chance to see the fascinators I have in this corner. Those are the little hats that rest on the front of your head. They became real popular after the royal wedding. A lot of ladies are wearing them to church. They’re not nearly as hot in the summer. The one with the blue feathers is made from the feathers of my friend’s tiger macaw—”

“I’ll take it,” Natalie said. “And give me that black fancy one with the jewels and netting.”

“Where are you going to wear that?” Deanna asked in a low tone.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe Vance’s funeral?”

“Oh, boy,” Deanna said.

“Did you say you’re going to a funeral?” Edna asked, her face twisting with concern.

“My aunt recently passed,” Deanna quickly said before Natalie could speak. “My sister was saying this would have been a nice fascinator to wear to the funeral.”

“Or any funeral,” Natalie added.

Not that she wished Vance dead.

Well, not particularly. She didn’t plan to participate in a voodoo ritual to ensure his painful demise.

The purchases paid for, Deanna all but hustled Natalie out of the store. “Retail therapy is over. I say we go home, and you get into a hot bath—”

“Natalie Cooper?”

At the sound of her name, Natalie instinctively turned. It took her a moment to recognize that the woman moving toward her was the same one who had earlier approached Michael Jones. Natalie’s eyes went lower, to the microphone the woman had in her hand.

“How do you feel about the news that your barely ex-husband has just gotten engaged?”

Natalie was too stupefied to speak.

“You did hear, didn’t you?” the woman asked, sounding almost gleeful. “The ink is barely dry on your divorce papers, yet Vance has already proposed to Olivia Markson. From what I understand, she was your former best friend, right?”

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Deanna asked, stepping in front of Natalie.

“Please don’t sensationalize this story,” Natalie said. “No one in Cleveland cares about me and Vance.”

“But the people of San Antonio most certainly do.”

“San Antonio?” Natalie asked, not understanding.

“I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself. I’m Hyacinth Hamilton, from the San Antonio Times.”

A reporter from San Antonio was here? A reporter had tracked her down in her uncle’s hometown? Natalie glanced around nervously, wondering if there were more reporters lurking nearby. When she and Vance had announced their separation two months ago, the reporters had converged like vultures.

“So how do you feel about what’s transpired?” the reporter went on.

“I—I—” Natalie’s head was spinning. God help her, she didn’t want another media spectacle made of her life. Hounded wherever she went…

“You didn’t know,” the reporter surmised.

“Of course she knew,” Deanna snapped, “but she doesn’t care. Now, if you’ll leave my sister alone.”

“Deanna Hart,” the reporter said, grinning as though she was a little star struck. “When will you come out with a new CD? Your fans have been waiting for what, nearly three years now?”

“Leave us alone,” Deanna reiterated, sounding sterner, and Natalie couldn’t help thinking that Hyacinth had hit a nerve.

Deanna took Natalie by the arm and hurried in the opposite direction toward where the car was parked. Natalie almost made it there, but stopped and turned. It hit her suddenly, the severity of Vance’s betrayal. And Olivia’s. The ink wasn’t even dry on the separation papers, much less the divorce papers. And already Vance was moving on?

How dare the two of them so publicly flaunt their adulterous relationship at that hotel in Vegas, where Vance had presented Olivia with a huge diamond. According to this morning’s paper, witnesses had heard Vance tell Olivia that he loved her “more than anyone he had ever loved in his life.”

“Here’s what I have to say,” Natalie began as she reached Hyacinth. “Vance and I are divorced. He’s free to do what he likes. And as far as I’m concerned, he and Olivia deserve each other. I won’t take a guess as to how long their marriage will last, but you know what they say about cheaters. In any case, I couldn’t care less about the two of them because I’ve moved on,” she finished with finality.

Then she whirled around—and bumped smack into the hard wall of a masculine chest.

“Excuse me—”

“I’m sorry—”

Natalie slowly looked up. The silk shirt she had seen earlier. The sleek sunglasses.

Michael Jones put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. And then a slow grin formed on his perfectly full lips as he looked down at her.

“I’m sorry,” Natalie repeated.

Michael’s eyes swept over her, leaving her skin feeling flushed. Or was that the Cleveland sun?

“No need to be sorry,” Michael said in a voice that was deep and smooth. He sank his teeth into his bottom lip before speaking. “In fact, I am the exact opposite of sorry. Sweetheart, you can bump into me any time, any day, any hour.”

I get it, Natalie thought, and stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “All the same, I apologize. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

She sidestepped him and began to walk toward the car, and was surprised when Michael took her hand. “Oh, no,” he said. “I can’t have you walking away from me, not when fate had us meet. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Natalie didn’t speak, just checked out the smile he likely thought could charm any woman into his bed.

“Angel?” he guessed when Natalie stayed silent. “Yeah, I bet you looked just like a little angel when you were born, and that’s what your mama named you.”

Now Natalie did roll her eyes. Wow, the guy really did think he was smooth.

“All that matters,” she began calmly, “is that I know your name, Michael Jones.” She smiled. “You have yourself a good day.”

Natalie slipped her hand from his and jogged this time, hurrying to the car where Deanna was waiting.

“What does that mean?” Michael called out to her. “Come on, sweetheart—you really gonna walk away from me like that?”

“What’s going on?” Deanna asked when Natalie got into the car.

“Drive,” Natalie said. “Now.”

* * *

For the rest of that day and into the next, the news of Vance’s engagement was the talk of all the gossip shows. Like Deanna had speculated, others wondered if Vance had gotten a quickie divorce from Natalie because Olivia was pregnant.

Natalie had tried to put all the gossip out of her mind, painful as it was. For some reason, it helped to think of her brief encounter with Michael Jones. The quick moment of flirtation, one-sided though it had been. Natalie enjoyed remembering that sexy smile on Michael’s face, so quickly followed by his surprised expression when she’d walked away from him.

Athletes. They were a different breed. Rejecting him had given Natalie a momentary surge of power at a time when she had been feeling powerless.

It had also been wonderful to see Callie, Nigel and Kwame upon their return from Tallahassee the previous evening. Natalie had been able to forget about Vance as she spent time with her newly engaged sister, fussing over her injuries like a mother hen and oohing over the beautiful engagement ring Nigel had presented to her. It had been a happy evening, one in which Natalie’s personal life had been firmly put on the back burner.

But later that night, as Natalie lay in bed alone, she hadn’t been able to get past what Vance had done. And though she didn’t care to hear another word about the man she now considered the biggest mistake in her life, she couldn’t help going to the website for the San Antonio Times the next day after breakfast to check out what Hyacinth had written.

I’ve Moved On, Vance’s Jilted Wife Insists

Natalie groaned as she saw the headline on the first page of the paper’s website. If that was the headline, what would the article itself say?

Natalie scrolled down. There was a wedding photo of her and Vance that had been graphically altered to look like a picture being ripped down the middle. Juxtaposing that photo was one of Vance and Olivia cozying up at a blackjack table in Vegas, looking like the happiest couple in the world.

Natalie wanted to throw up.

She didn’t care to read the article. It was too much. Breaking up was hard enough, but doing so in the public eye was unbearable.

Maybe Deanna was right about that whole Mercury in retrograde stuff. Because each day was bringing more stress. Yes, Natalie had been on a high after learning that Callie would be fine, and seeing her last night had been wonderful indeed. But it was hard to escape the reality that the person she’d married for life had so little disregard for her that he would divorce her quickly in Nevada, only to flaunt his engagement to her former best friend.

Natalie turned off the computer and went into the bathroom opposite her bedroom on the second floor of her uncle’s home. She didn’t want to wallow in the misery of wondering if Vance had ever loved her, because it ultimately didn’t matter. But yes, the truth was that she absolutely had hoped for the fairy tale with her husband.

She locked the bathroom door, then turned on the shower. A nice, hot shower was what she needed to push thoughts of Vance out of her mind.

“You want me to break his legs?” Callie had asked last night as they’d all been at Nigel’s home. “Because I’ll do it. As soon as my injuries heal, I’ll head to San Antonio and take care of him.”

That had gotten laughs from everyone, including Natalie, who at the time had been able to compartmentalize her pain. Concentrating on the reality that her sister was alive and well was far more important than the fact that she had lost a man who had not loved her.

At least that was what she had told herself yesterday. But now…Natalie swallowed a sigh. And as she stepped into the hot shower, she began to cry again.

Angry with herself, she slammed her hand against the tile wall. “Save your tears, Natalie. Just because you always believed in fairy tales doesn’t mean you’re childish enough not to accept that when something is wrong, it’s wrong.”

And marrying Vance had been wrong. She hadn’t known it at the time, but people made mistakes in this life. They were supposed to learn from those mistakes and move on. At least she knew she had done her part to keep the marriage going—which included being faithful to her husband. She had wanted forever with Vance. He, however, had been so into himself and the fact that he was the great Vance Cooper that he couldn’t truly care for another person.

With that thought, Natalie allowed the hot water to splash over her entire face. And she hoped that as her tears mixed with the water and disappeared down the drain, so would the remnants of anything she felt for the man she had been fool enough to marry.

Chapter 3

Natalie was seasoning boneless chicken breasts to grill for dinner when the phone rang again.

Deanna, who was in the kitchen with her cutting potatoes for the salad, was the one who went to answer the phone.

“Maybe you shouldn’t answer it,” Natalie said. “I’m sure it’s another reporter.” Another reporter who clearly wanted to hear her bad-mouth Vance so he or she could feed the team of hungry tabloids and gossip magazines with more dirt.

They had been calling since the sun had come up, and frustrated, Natalie had stupidly spoken to a reporter just after lunch. The woman had wanted her response to the fact that Vance was talking up a storm about how he had found his “true love” and how that made her feel. It was the kind of ridiculous question quack reporters were famous for: Your son was just crushed by truck. How do you feel, sir? Natalie had hung up without answering.

“If it’s a reporter, I’ll get rid of the pest,” Deanna said. “But maybe it isn’t, because this time the display isn’t showing that a private number is calling. It’s a Cleveland number.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Natalie pointed out. She would never forget the time someone had come to her house pretending to be an electrician, when, in fact, the man had been a reporter trying to get the scoop on whether or not Vance was actually considering leaving San Antonio to play for a Los Angeles team.

Reporters would do anything to get the story they wanted.

Picking up the phone, Deanna uttered a pleasant greeting then paused. “Are you a reporter? Okay, then may I ask who’s calling?”

Lowering the phone and covering the mouthpiece with her hand, Deanna said, “Natalie, it’s for you. Some woman named Penelope who claims she’s not a reporter.”

Natalie narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “You don’t actually expect her to say, ‘Yeah, I’m a reporter.’ Come on, Dee.”

“She said she’s from some children’s charity,” Deanna explained.

Natalie frowned, but was slightly less suspicious. She did a lot of charitable work in San Antonio. But still she said, “Ask her what charity.”

Deanna put the phone to her ear again. “What charity?” And after a moment, “Oh. Okay.”

“Well?” Natalie asked. She knew some of these reporters were very clever. She didn’t want to be tricked.

“She says it’s a local children’s charity for kids with cancer, and she could really use your help. That she knows of your charitable work in San Antonio.” Deanna shrugged. “I don’t know. She sounds legit.”

It was a subject near and dear to her heart, one Natalie had spent a lot of time lending her voice to back in San Antonio. But still, it could be a trick, a desperate reporter who knew enough about her to try and lure her onto the line under false pretenses.

“Are you going to take the call?” Deanna asked, still covering the mouthpiece with her hand.

“All right.” Natalie supposed she may as well talk to the person on the phone, even if she would only end up telling the woman off for her ruse. She turned on the kitchen sink, washed her hands, dried them with a dish towel, then crossed the kitchen and took the phone from her sister’s hands.

“This is Natalie Cooper. I mean Hart.” If Vance was already engaged to somebody else, then why should Natalie use his surname anymore? She was a Hart. And it was even more important for her to cling to that connection to her mother now, to her sisters. The Hart name had much more meaning to Natalie at this point in her life than it ever had before.

“Hello, Mrs. Cooper,” came the relieved reply. “I’m really glad I found you.”

“And who are you?” Natalie asked, knowing that she sounded a little brusque.

“My name is Penelope Rand. And I knew your aunt. Jean…she was such a wonderful person. She gave so much to this community, volunteering for one cause after another. I really appreciated her and I miss her terribly.”

Thinking of her aunt caused Natalie’s chest to tighten. “Yes, I miss her, too.”

“I was excited to hear that you are in town, especially because your aunt told me about your efforts to help raise funds for childhood cancer research. I’m on the board of a small local charity, Compassion for Families, and our mandate is a little different than what you’re used to. We don’t raise funds for cancer research. Rather, the money we raise supports a home here in Cleveland where families from out of town can live while their child is undergoing treatment at one of the local hospitals. Or, if they live in town but are facing financial hardships because of the cost of medical care, we help out with rent or mortgage payments. The cancer patient needs support, but so does the entire family unit—and that’s where we come in.”

“That’s wonderful,” Natalie said.

“We’re currently working on putting a gala event together to raise funds. It’s very last minute, but we need to pull this off because Compassion House needs urgent financial help or it’ll have to close its doors. With the economy’s current shape, there have been less donations and between trying to help keep people in their own homes, there isn’t currently enough to keep the house running at the level we’d like. I don’t have to tell you how devastating it would be for families from out of town to suddenly have nowhere to go. So we were hoping to have an event within a six-week timeframe, possibly less. I don’t know how long you’re in town, but if there’s any chance you could help out, lend your vast expertise to the cause, that would be amazing.”

That’s how to get them, Natalie thought. Compliment them, and how can a person say no? It was one of her strategies for helping to elicit funds and favors from people when she worked at getting financial support to help a certain cause.

“I’m not sure how long I’ll be here, either,” Natalie told her. “I mean, the cause sounds great, absolutely. It’s definitely something I would support. But I’m just in town because of my aunt’s passing, and to spend some time with my uncle and family. Since I’m not even certain how much longer I’m going to be staying here, it wouldn’t make sense for me to make a commitment. You’re going to need someone who can give one hundred ten percent of their time. But I’ll happily—”

“I would take whatever time you’re able to give,” Penelope said quickly, and Natalie heard a hint of desperation in the woman’s voice. “It’s been hard to garner support. The economy is in rough shape, people just don’t have the same kind of money they used to. And when they do donate, they give to bigger charities. But if I could have someone high profile like yourself, with your connection to your husband, Vance Cooper—”

“We’re not together anymore,” Natalie said, swallowing the lump that had lodged in her throat at the mention of his name.

“I know,” Penelope said, sounding contrite. “I heard about your split. And I’m sorry. But, you’re still very well connected. Your husband…ex-husband…is a successful NBA player. He has a wealth of friends who are very successful, and who know other successful people. Any connection to them that you may have can be of assistance.”

Natalie nodded. “I understand. I do. But I just don’t want to bite off more than I can chew right now. The last thing I would want to do is disappoint you and your organization. Any project I take on, I like to see it through to the end. And right now, I just can’t say that I could do that for you. But I’ll definitely make a substantial donation to your charity to help with your immediate needs.”

“Oh, I’m certain you would do a fantastic job,” Penelope insisted. “It’s not simply the fundraising we need help with. I hate to say it, but I’m not that experienced with throwing the kind of posh event I’m hoping to pull off. The organization is small, so there aren’t that many of us on the board. But I feel forever indebted to Compassion For Families because of my own personal story and am compelled to help them in every way possible. My seven-year-old son is a cancer survivor. Three years ago, when I needed this house—after losing everything to put toward my son’s medical care—I don’t know where I would have been without Compassion for Families. What I’m saying is that I’m not some expert event planner. I’m just a woman who cares because I know how much this charity means, how important it is.”

Natalie said nothing. What could she say? Telling this woman no—after she had poured her heart out—was almost impossible to do.

“I’ve made some calls,” Penelope went on. “And the prices to hire a person to pull off an event like this are quite frankly astronomical. More than the organization can afford right now. But I do have a connection to one of the players on Cleveland’s NFL team—he went to school with me. He said he would be happy to help out. And when I heard you were in town—and knowing how giving and loving your aunt was—I thought it wouldn’t hurt to reach out to you, as well. With two celebrities heading up this event, I think we can pull it off and raise more money than ever.”

The woman was making it harder and harder for Natalie to say no. But she wasn’t ready to commit. Not with Callie injured, and her uncle still grieving, and knowing the kind of time commitment an event like this required. So she said, “I do appreciate the fact that you’re even considering me. I’m quite honored. And as I said, the cause is clearly worthy and one that is near to my own heart, as well. But how about I think about it, let you know?”

Penelope emitted a little sigh. “That’s the best I can hope for, that you’ll consider it. I do hope you will let me know soon.”

“Definitely,” Natalie said.

Penelope then gave Natalie her home and cell numbers. “I’ll await your call, then.”

“Sure. I’ll let you know either way.” Natalie had always hated waiting for a response from someone and hearing nothing. “There may be some other way that I can help out, even if I can’t commit to seeing this fundraiser through to its end.”

“Great. I’ll talk to you soon.”

* * *

All Natalie could think about the rest of that day and all through the night was Penelope’s call. Penelope had made a great point—that the money people gave to charity often went to the bigger, older, more established organizations.

The truth was, Natalie knew how to fundraise. She had made it her life’s mission in San Antonio. How could she not offer her help to Compassion for Families?

Besides, she was going nowhere soon. With Vance and Olivia now engaged—and shacking up together in the home she’d shared with Vance for all she knew—where was she going to go? Back to San Antonio, where she would no doubt suffer more media scrutiny? No, it only made sense for her to lie low in Cleveland until the story about her and Vance’s marriage finally died down.

Not to mention the fact that she wanted to be in town in order to continue the search for her mother with her sisters.

That fact had sealed the deal, and by the next morning, Natalie had made her decision. While she expected and hoped to put one hundred percent of her time and effort into finding clues that would lead to her mother, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to spend some time helping Penelope with her fundraising efforts. The truth was, event planning came easy to Natalie, because she had done it so often. And as Penelope had said, athletes and athletes’ wives and other people in high-profile positions were able to get tasks done more efficiently, simply because they had connections to people who had more financial resources.

After breakfast, Natalie called Penelope.

“Natalie?” Penelope said without preamble.

“Yes, Penelope. It’s me.”

“You’ve made a decision?”

“I have,” Natalie said, and paused. “I really love what you told me about Compassion for Families and I’m more than happy to help out.”

“Excellent!” Penelope exclaimed. “And timing couldn’t be more perfect. Remember I told you about the football player friend of mine who is also going to be helping me with this cause? Well, he’s coming into our office today, and this would be a great chance for you to come and meet him. In fact, he’s on his way right now. Why don’t you come to the meeting? With the gala date only six weeks away, there’s no time to spare in getting started.”

“You want me to come in now?” Natalie asked with hesitation.

“Unless you have another obligation right now.”

“No, I’m free now,” Natalie decided. There was no real reason she couldn’t head in to the office and meet this man she would be working with. As Penelope had said, there wasn’t a moment to spare.

“Excellent! Let me give you the address, and I’ll see you soon.”

Natalie scribbled the address on a piece of paper. “I’m on my way.”

“I can’t wait for you to meet Mike Jones,” Penelope added.

Natalie’s stomach lurched at the mention of the name. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“Mike Jones is the football player I was talking about. My friend from school. He’s a sweetheart, and real easy on the eyes. You’ll like him.”

Suddenly, Natalie’s brain was scrambling to try to come up with a reason to do a one-eighty and tell Penelope that she could no longer meet her, no longer volunteer her time.

Yeah, I bet you looked just like a little angel when you were born, and that’s what your mama named you.

“As in Michael Jones?” Natalie asked for clarification.

“Yes, that’s him,” Penelope said. “Oh, you know him?”

Natalie’s hands tightened on the receiver as she closed her eyes. “No. I’ve just…heard of him.”

“Excellent.” Penelope couldn’t sound more pleased. “All right. See you soon.”

Chapter 4

The entire drive to the Compassion for Families offices, Natalie felt as if she had a bowling ball sitting in her stomach. At least ten times she contemplated—and dismissed—the idea of turning around and heading back home.

How silly are you being? she asked herself as she parked beside a sleek BMW. What—are you incapable of working in a professional capacity with a man like Michael Jones?

That was the thought that had her getting out of her car and making her way up the steps of a large, older home with a wraparound porch. Clearly, this was not only the home where the families in need resided, but also the building that held the charity’s offices.

Natalie drew in a breath as she stood before the door, then reminding herself that she was acting like a schoolgirl, she opened it.

She was immediately greeted by a woman who had to be Penelope—a five foot nothing African-American female with a short afro, light brown skin and a sprinkling of freckles on her nose.

“Natalie Hart,” the woman said, extending her hand. “I’m Penelope Rand. So nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, as well,” Natalie said. Then she looked beyond Penelope, in the direction of a woman who was crossing the far end of the hall with a tray of cupcakes.

Penelope turned to follow Natalie’s line of sight. “That’s Cynthia. She’s one of our staff members. She bakes the most extraordinary desserts.”

“The house certainly smells lovely,” Natalie said.

“Would you like a cupcake?” Penelope asked.

“No, I’m fine.” Natalie waved off the suggestion. “Leave them for the children.”

“All right, then. This way.” Penelope gestured to the door on the immediate right.

Natalie started into the room—and stopped dead in her tracks. Though she had known she would see Michael Jones in the room, laying her eyes on him again was like a shock to her system.

Good Lord, the man was so…

“I know, I’m sorry the office is so cluttered,” Penelope said, mistaking the reason for Natalie’s hesitation. “Please bear with the mess.”

“It’s fine,” Natalie said, avoiding looking directly at Michael. But as she put one foot deliberately before the other and walked farther into the room, she could feel Michael’s gaze on her.

His eyes were burning her skin. She felt flushed and didn’t know why. And strangely, she found her breathing had become shallow.

Embarrassment, she told herself. That’s what it is. And she knew that was true. After yesterday—

“I’ve cleared space at the end of the conference table,” Penelope explained, jarring Natalie from her thoughts about the day before. Penelope began walking toward the table, and as Natalie feared, she took a seat opposite Michael, which left Natalie one option—to sit beside him.

“Michael Jones, this is Natalie Cooper—I mean Hart. Natalie, this is Michael Jones, the local football player I was telling you about.”

“Pleasure to see you again,” Michael said, eyeing her up and down as if she were a juicy steak.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Penelope said, her expression one of confusion as she took a seat opposite them. “I didn’t realize that you knew each other.”

“We don’t,” Natalie said.

To that, Michael raised an eyebrow. “Actually, we met yesterday.”

“Briefly,” Natalie clarified. “A chance encounter on the street.”

Natalie sat and pulled her chair in, trying her best to ignore the uncomfortable sensation that came from knowing that Michael wasn’t taking his eyes off of her.

“She’s right,” Michael agreed. “We didn’t enjoy the pleasure of a formal meeting.” He extended his hand to her. “I’m Michael Jones.”

Natalie turned to face him, knowing that it would look suspicious if she didn’t. And she saw that the edges of Michael’s full lips were twitching. He was trying not to smile. Clearly, he was enjoying having the unlikely upper hand. Yesterday, she had thought she would be rid of him forever when she walked away from him on the street, and yet here he was, in her life again.

But Natalie couldn’t hardly let him know that he was getting to her on any level, so she took his hand and shook it. “Nice to meet you, Michael,” she said, keeping her voice dispassionate.

“Very nice to meet you.”

Natalie swallowed—hard. She felt a rush of heat. That bedroom voice, those sexy eyes…why on earth was he getting to her? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen an attractive man before.

But Michael Jones wasn’t simply attractive. He was hot.

He’s a block of ice, you’re a block of ice, Natalie said mentally, trying to trick herself. Because no matter how hot this man was, the last thing she wanted to do was look twice at another professional athlete.

Least of all look twice at one who was giving her the bedroom eye as though he hoped to make her his next conquest.

Nope, Natalie had learned her lesson the first time around, and would not be foolish enough to make the same mistake twice.

What was the saying? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

Not that Michael had ever fooled her, but she had already been fooled by his species: the professional athlete. Women threw themselves at men like him. Stalked them at their away games. Tried to sneak into their hotel rooms. Got hired as wait staff where they ate their meals. Natalie knew all the tricks. Heck, Vance had joked about the various ploys of these women, making Natalie believe he was immune to their charms. And yet Vance had betrayed her, despite his vows to love, cherish and be faithful.

She supposed it was only inevitable that men like Vance cheated. A man was only human, after all, and how long could he realistically resist temptation when it was always in his face?

Penelope cleared her throat, and when Natalie looked at her, she was horrified to see a knowing smirk on the woman’s

face—the kind of smirk that said she believed Natalie had just been checking Michael out.

“I checked out your charity on the internet,” Natalie said, needing to say something to get Penelope’s mind off of the track it was clearly on. “I’m really impressed. For a small charity, you have been able to do incredible work.”

“And we hope to continue to do that work,” Penelope said. “Which is why both of you are here.”

Natalie nodded. Then, despite herself, she glanced at Michael again, and saw that his gaze was still intent on her. It was the kind of gaze that left a woman feeling totally exposed.

She jerked her head away. She could already tell that this Michael character was the type of guy used to getting what he wanted. First of all, he was gorgeous. Certainly not the kind of guy most women would kick out of the bed in the morning. Add that to the fact that he was a successful athlete, and he was all but irresistible to most women.

The way Michael kept checking her out made it obvious to Natalie that he thought all he had to do was give her a dose of his smoldering looks and his dazzling smile and she would be putty in his hands.

“Now, the date for the gala event is August 12,” Penelope said. “Which gives us just about six weeks. Unlike some of the events we’ve done before, this will be a celebrity event. I would like both of you to be cohosts for the event. I’ve seen video of you on the internet, Natalie, and you’re a natural with a microphone. And of course, you are, too, Mike,” she added amiably. “With the two of you headlining the event, we’re sure to have a great turnout.”

“What exactly do you mean by headlining?” Natalie asked. “Do you want us to emcee, or provide some sort of entertainment?”

“Oh, no, I don’t expect you to be the entertainment—unless of course you have some jokes you’d like to share—but your job will be to host,” Penelope explained. “You’re both celebrities, you both speak well. You’ll emcee the evening, introduce each new segment for the night, be it the auction items or the various entertainment.”

Natalie nodded. “Gotcha.”

The phone rang, but Penelope stayed seated at the conference table, not getting up to go to the desk and answer it. “I’m working on some of the entertainment as we speak.” Penelope spoke over the ringing phone. “I’ve made some calls to a comedian, a local church choir, a popular dance troupe and some others. So far, only the gospel choir has confirmed, but I’m hopeful the others will, as well.”

“We’ll follow up with whomever you’ve reached out to,” Michael said.

“Excellent,” Penelope said. “I’m sure that hearing from both of you will inspire people to say yes. I want a real high-class event that will justify the cost of the ticket price.”

“You know, I could ask my sister if she’ll perform,” Natalie said. “Deanna Hart.”

Penelope’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yes, please do. That would be fantastic. I didn’t know if I should ask, given that you all are grieving, but having her on the lineup would be amazing. I love her music. She has such a beautiful voice.”

Natalie felt a pinch of pride. Though Deanna wouldn’t know it, Natalie had bought the three CDs she’d put out over the past eight years. She may not have been speaking to her sister at the time, but she had been proud of her success nonetheless.

“I’ve got some musician friends I could talk to, as well,” Michael said. “I’m sure they’d be happy to lend their support.”

“And speaking of dancers,” Natalie began, “I have a friend in San Antonio who is a very talented ballet dancer. She leaves audiences breathless, seriously. I can give her a call.”

Penelope’s wide grin indicated not only the woman’s happiness, but her relief. “I knew you both were the perfect ones for the job. I’m so glad I ran into you, Michael, because that gave me the idea to have celebrities headline this event. This is going to be our most successful event ever, I just know it!”

“I wouldn’t say I’m a celebrity,” Natalie said sheepishly. Her only claim to fame was having been married to Vance Cooper.

“Of course you’re a celebrity,” Penelope said. “Athletes’ wives are famous, too—especially ones who grew up in Cleveland. And with the amount of charitable work you do, you’re also good people.”

Natalie smiled. “Thank you.”

The phone rang again. Penelope sighed. “I really ought to get that.”

“No problem,” Michael said, rising from his seat. “You’ve got a lot to do. I think Natalie and I should take it from here, sit down and brainstorm and then get back to you.”

Penelope held up a finger as she hurried to the phone. She answered it and asked the person on the other end of the line to wait for a moment.

Then she returned to the table, where she handed Natalie and Michael a folder each. “I need to take this phone call. But these are my initial plans, which the two of you can peruse. Have a gander, brainstorm together and we’ll talk at a future date.”

“Oh, sure.” Natalie stood and accepted Penelope’s proffered hand. But she was suddenly out of sorts. She wasn’t thrilled about the idea of her and Michael having to spend time together alone. She would prefer to do the planning with Penelope involved.

Michael shook Penelope’s hand, and then turned to Natalie when Penelope went back to the phone.

“Why don’t we talk outside?” he suggested in a low voice, careful not to speak too loudly and disturb Penelope.

“Sure,” Natalie agreed.

Michael gestured for her to walk in front of him, so she left the office first. Getting to the double front doors moments later, Natalie reached for the right handle. But her hand collided with Michael’s as he reached to do the same thing.

“Allow me,” Michael said.

Natalie drew in a deep breath. The touch of Michael’s hand against her skin, the deep timbre of his voice…he was doing this on purpose. Trying to see if he could get to her.

But she said nothing, just stepped onto the porch, where the heat of the late-June day enveloped her. But that was nothing compared to the heat she saw smoldering in Michael’s eyes when she turned around and looked up at him.

“So,” he said.

Natalie’s pulse picked up speed—and then she felt disgusted with herself. Good Lord, what was wrong with her? Why was this man getting to her on any level? So what if he was seriously fine, with a body chiseled to perfection?

Obviously Natalie needed a distraction from the reality of Vance and his betrayal—but seriously, Michael Jones? There couldn’t be a worse man to feel even a remote attraction to.

Natalie cleared her throat and averted her gaze. “I’ll take a look at Penelope’s plans, you do the same and let’s talk in a couple of days. Give me your card, and I’ll call you.”

“Actually, I was thinking more like dinner. Tonight.”

“Dinner?” She narrowed her eyes at him. A beat passed. Then another. Then Michael’s lips curved in a smile.

Natalie couldn’t believe his gall. “Are you seriously asking me out on a date?”

Michael’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “Actually, I was suggesting we have dinner in order to discuss some ideas for this fundraiser. But if you want to make it a romantic date…”

Natalie swallowed, feeling foolish. “Oh.”

“How about seven o’clock? Right where we met on the street yesterday. I have a restaurant there, A Taste of Soul. We can meet there. Have a relaxing meal. Enjoy some Dixieland jazz.”

Though it shouldn’t have, Natalie’s heart began to beat a little faster. Michael had said this wasn’t a romantic date, but what he was describing certainly sounded like it. Natalie could only imagine his plan of attack: feed her a delicious meal, give her a few drinks, allow the music to set the mood, then suggest that they head back to his place.

She had fallen for that game once before. She wouldn’t again.

“We can speak over the phone,” she told him. “I think we should at least look over Penelope’s plans separately before we come together to discuss ideas.”

“Trying to run away from me again?”

Natalie’s right eyebrow shot up. “Excuse me? I just presented you with a practical plan. How on earth did you deduce—”

“All that matters is that I know your name,” Michael said, and it took Natalie a moment to realize that he was quoting her words from yesterday. “I have to say, I don’t think I’ve ever been rejected quite like that before.”

So that’s what this was about. “I see I bruised your ego—”

“Ouch—”

“Which wasn’t my intent,” she continued. “So for that, I apologize.” She began to dig through her purse. Staying here and engaging Michael in more chitchat was getting them nowhere. “But like I said, I’d like time to peruse Penelope’s plans before we get together. Here’s my card—”

“Tonight. Dinner. You’ll love the soul food. Southern fried chicken, collard greens…”

“On second thought, it’s probably best that the next meeting be with both of us and Penelope,” Natalie said, not liking where this was going. She put the card back into her purse. “Let’s both touch base with her in a couple of days and then schedule the next meeting.”

And then, before Michael could say a word, Natalie started down the front steps of the house. She needed to get away from him. Natalie knew his type, and wasn’t going to entertain his “I’m not flirting” flirtation any longer.

She hurried around the side of the building, not looking backward. She knew she was doing the same thing she had done yesterday—running from Michael, as he had said. Natalie wasn’t naïve, and she certainly wasn’t born yesterday. No matter what Michael said, it was clear that he had designs on her, and the last thing she wanted to do was lead him on in any way. So going out to dinner with him to discuss the charity even was a definite no-no.

At least not tonight. Let her go over Penelope’s initial plans on her own, then she and Michael would talk. That way, their next interaction would truly feel like a business meeting as opposed to a date.

But as Natalie rounded her car to the driver’s-side door, she stopped in her tracks. Silently, she cursed.

Because her grand plan of escape had totally been destroyed.

She had a flat tire.

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