her face. Jamie seemed to affect most women that way. “He starts going up the hill after—what was his name? Milligan? Yeah, Milligan—he starts going up the hill after Milligan, who’s just grabbed our flag….”
Flannery turned back to her boss. “Whatever. If you think I’d be interested in someone like him just because he’s good looking, you don’t know me very well.”
Jack sighed. “Look, kiddo, I know you think I’m shallow and vain”—he grinned—“which, truthfully, I am. But I know you’re not. And you’re shortchanging this guy if you think all he has going for him is his looks. I’m just suggesting you take the time to get to know him. I haven’t been around him all that much—and haven’t really had a chance to talk to him at length—but I’ve got a feeling. There’s something more to this guy than what’s on the surface, than this persona he puts out there for everyone to see. And have you ever known me to be wrong about anyone?”
“Well, there was that one editor you hired—”
“Yeah—besides people who falsify their résumés, I mean.”
Flannery gaped at Jack. In all the years they’d worked together, he’d never been this interested in her personal life—only in deflecting the occasional speculation around the office about the two of them being linked romantically. “Who died and made you my fairy godmother all of a sudden?”
“Believe me, if I could, I’d do some magic on you to knock whatever created this negativity toward nice guys out of your head.” He tapped his forefinger against her temple.
“I’ve only ever dated ‘nice’ guys. Maybe too nice sometimes.”
“Yeah? What’s this I hear about you giving your number to a bouncer at Rippy’s?”
Couldn’t anyone keep a secret these days? “He’s a law student, just working there to pay rent and bills.”
“Uh-huh. That’s what they all say when they see a five-foot-nine blond who looks like a Scandinavian goddess. Sweetie, guys will say anything to get a woman like you to go out with them.”
Flannery rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I figured that out a long time ago. And hello—I’m Irish, not Scandinavian. I probably won’t go out with him anyway. He totally wasn’t my type.”
“And who is?” Jack jerked his head toward Jamie a couple of times.
Flannery punched him in the upper arm. “Stop it already. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but last night I agreed to let Zarah and Caylor start setting me up with guys they know, starting with Dylan’s brother, the physicist.”
“There you go. A nice, smart guy.”
“Who’s too young for me.”
“Age doesn’t matter if he’s the right one.”
Funny, Flannery remembered saying something very much like that to Caylor not long ago.
The bus rolled to a stop under the portico leading into the conference-center portion of the enormous hotel. Jack stood and offered Flannery a hand up. Having spent several hours here this afternoon taking photos in the world-famous atrium, Flannery’s mood improved upon discovering the Tennessee Ballroom was just inside these doors instead of half a mile away. Though she loved this pair of strappy, mid-heeled sandals Zarah’s new mother-in-law had helped them pick out, she’d learned they definitely weren’t made for walking and had spent most of the afternoon going from place to place in the atrium barefoot.
She followed the slow-moving group in the aisle ahead of her and warned Jack about not stepping on her skirt as she picked her way down the bus’s steps. She took the outstretched hand offered her when she reached the bottom step—which sat just a little too high for comfort off the pavement below—and started to step down. But when she looked up to thank the helpful guy, she almost took a header into the asphalt.
Jamie O’Connor grinned at her. “Flannery.”
“Jamie.” She yanked her hand out of his as soon as both feet hit the ground. But she couldn’t be rude. “Thank
Flannery turned back to her boss. “Whatever. If you think I’d be interested in someone like him just because he’s good looking, you don’t know me very well.”
Jack sighed. “Look, kiddo, I know you think I’m shallow and vain”—he grinned—“which, truthfully, I am. But I know you’re not. And you’re shortchanging this guy if you think all he has going for him is his looks. I’m just suggesting you take the time to get to know him. I haven’t been around him all that much—and haven’t really had a chance to talk to him at length—but I’ve got a feeling. There’s something more to this guy than what’s on the surface, than this persona he puts out there for everyone to see. And have you ever known me to be wrong about anyone?”
“Well, there was that one editor you hired—”
“Yeah—besides people who falsify their résumés, I mean.”
Flannery gaped at Jack. In all the years they’d worked together, he’d never been this interested in her personal life—only in deflecting the occasional speculation around the office about the two of them being linked romantically. “Who died and made you my fairy godmother all of a sudden?”
“Believe me, if I could, I’d do some magic on you to knock whatever created this negativity toward nice guys out of your head.” He tapped his forefinger against her temple.
“I’ve only ever dated ‘nice’ guys. Maybe too nice sometimes.”
“Yeah? What’s this I hear about you giving your number to a bouncer at Rippy’s?”
Couldn’t anyone keep a secret these days? “He’s a law student, just working there to pay rent and bills.”
“Uh-huh. That’s what they all say when they see a five-foot-nine blond who looks like a Scandinavian goddess. Sweetie, guys will say anything to get a woman like you to go out with them.”
Flannery rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I figured that out a long time ago. And hello—I’m Irish, not Scandinavian. I probably won’t go out with him anyway. He totally wasn’t my type.”
“And who is?” Jack jerked his head toward Jamie a couple of times.
Flannery punched him in the upper arm. “Stop it already. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but last night I agreed to let Zarah and Caylor start setting me up with guys they know, starting with Dylan’s brother, the physicist.”
“There you go. A nice, smart guy.”
“Who’s too young for me.”
“Age doesn’t matter if he’s the right one.”
Funny, Flannery remembered saying something very much like that to Caylor not long ago.
The bus rolled to a stop under the portico leading into the conference-center portion of the enormous hotel. Jack stood and offered Flannery a hand up. Having spent several hours here this afternoon taking photos in the world-famous atrium, Flannery’s mood improved upon discovering the Tennessee Ballroom was just inside these doors instead of half a mile away. Though she loved this pair of strappy, mid-heeled sandals Zarah’s new mother-in-law had helped them pick out, she’d learned they definitely weren’t made for walking and had spent most of the afternoon going from place to place in the atrium barefoot.
She followed the slow-moving group in the aisle ahead of her and warned Jack about not stepping on her skirt as she picked her way down the bus’s steps. She took the outstretched hand offered her when she reached the bottom step—which sat just a little too high for comfort off the pavement below—and started to step down. But when she looked up to thank the helpful guy, she almost took a header into the asphalt.
Jamie O’Connor grinned at her. “Flannery.”
“Jamie.” She yanked her hand out of his as soon as both feet hit the ground. But she couldn’t be rude. “Thank