Playing for Hearts (67 page)

Juan had been right. She'd instantly liked his friends. When she and Juan had stopped at Cottage Grove on their way home from Germany, the girls had taken her out for a drink. Diana, Crista, and Shauna — who'd brought Trevor into the lounge, ignoring the bartender's dirty look when she pulled the plug on the jukebox and ignored the stares as she breastfed in the bar — took her out on what they called “Girls' Night.” She'd filled them in on how she'd met Juan. Thankfully, two shots of vodka helped her feel like she and Juan had started off like any normal couple.

Compared to Shauna and Diana's stories, her marriage to Juan was easy.

“What're your plans now that you've retired from competing, Juan?” Dominic put his arm around Diana. He tugged one of her curls, and grinned down at her.

“I've signed a five year contract to be a spokesman for the National Ski Association and I'll be doing some motivational speaking with minority groups all across the states and visiting the classrooms.” Juan gazed down at the baby, who he'd coerced into gripping his pinky.

“Five years?” Gary shifted in the chair. “That's an odd length for a contract.”

Juan lifted his gaze to Dana and winked. “We've got a schedule to keep.”

Dana brought the baby up to her chest and cuddled him. No matter how many times she'd told Juan her life schedule was unimportant, he stood firm that he liked the idea of knowing what to expect. They wanted children of their own eventually, and five years seemed like a perfect time to settle down for both of them.

The doorbell rang.

Juan stood. She gazed after him, enjoying the way he strutted across the room. Whether he was in a crowd or at home, he was in his element and content. Not to mention smokin' hot.

It was still hard for her to believe he was hers, and she could kiss him whenever she wanted. She'd quickly learned that he loved kissing her about as much as he enjoyed sex.

Juan stepped back into the room. “Dana?”

“Yes?” She handed the baby to Shauna. “Who is it?”

Juan stepped aside, and her father walked into the living room. Dana hurried forward.

Colton Reese stood scanning the room in his navy suit and red power tie. At sixty years old, he only had a bit of gray coloring the hair at his temples. For how much he aggravated her, he was her dad and she'd missed seeing him. If she was honest, she'd even missed the daily back and forth as they fought over the right way to do business while she was on her honeymoon.

“Daddy, you made it.” Dana hugged him, and spotted more people coming in the door. She squealed, and grabbed her stepbrothers, forcing them to put up with her kisses. She even hugged Linda, her stepmom, and received a kiss on her cheek in return. “I can't believe you came. This is perfect.”

“Of course we came. You're my daughter.” Her dad straightened his suit jacket.

Juan made introductions, and Dana caught up with her brothers. She promised them all they could go swimming in the indoor pool to escape the adults, and laughed as they ran out of the room to discover the rest of the house.

“We're sorry we didn't make it to the party yesterday, but we just got back home,” Linda said.

“That's okay. Bad planning on our part, but we knew our only chance to get away was right after Juan tied up all his post-Olympic interviews. Besides, you made it now. That's all that's important.” She moved over to stand by Juan, slipping her arm around his waist and leaning into him.

“What location are you going to work from now that you live in Oregon? Or are you going back to Colorado?” Dad asked her. “Might be best to find an easy commute and stay in the Northwest. I hear Mt. Hood has a rather attractive lodge. You could take a day trip up and check them out. Maybe we can do a shop come this fall.”

She glanced at Juan, who'd linked his finger with hers. “I was going to talk to you about my future plans later, Dad.”

“No time like the present. Business always comes first. It's the Reese motto you grew up with, girl,” Dad said.

“Right.” She inhaled swiftly. “Okay. I guess now would be a good time to tell you the news and get it out of the way, so we can enjoy the rest of your visit.”

Dad frowned. “Is there a problem?”

“No, not for me personally.” She lifted her chin. “But a lot will change for both of us.”

Her dad frowned. “What are you saying?”

“I've made other plans for my career, Dad. My letter of resignation with Reese Company will be sent on Monday.”

“What?” Her dad crossed his arms. “But you're my top seller. Reese Company needs you.”

Shocked to hear him admit it, Dana stepped forward and kissed her dad's cheek. “Thank you, that means the world to me, Daddy.”

“You've proven yourself this last year, kiddo. It's nonsense to quit now,” Dad said. “If you need me to pat your back, consider it patted. You've quadrupled our sales as a whole this year.”

“I'm not quitting the ski industry exactly, but going in a different direction.” She smiled up at Juan. “I'm going into business for myself. I've prototyped my own line of skis — I've been working during my free time for the last several years to perfect what I believe will be the top line equipment in years to come — and will be selling the catalogue come spring. I learned the business from the best man I know and even though we'll be in direct competition, I hope you can be proud of me and wish me well.”

“Impossible.” Dad shook his head. “You don't have enough money to start your own business from scratch, and I'm not going to set you up only to have you lose the money I'd be investing in you. Unless your husband is financially backing you, there's no way for you to bank a startup company.”

“Dana is the prime owner, and although I support her one hundred percent, she's financially supporting herself with no outside interest. I'm only here to help sponsor her line through the sport.” Juan put his arm around her shoulders. “I'm proud of what she's accomplished.”

“But … how?” Her dad frowned.

“Juan took the money you paid him when we got married and put it in an account with only my name on it. He doesn't want a dime for marrying me.” Dana curled against Juan, and laid her hand on his stomach. “He gave it back to me as a wedding gift for marrying him.”

Her stomach quivered. She'd always remember that day. Knowing he wanted no part in her father's attempt to see her married pleased her.

Her dad reached over and shook Juan's hand. “Well played, son. I knew from the time she was sixteen she'd give me a run for my money. I'm glad to see she has a good man to back her, and you did the right thing. Welcome to the family.”

Juan shook her father's hand. “Thank you, sir.”

Dana's jaw dropped, and she quickly recovered, motioning them into the room. “Sit, I'll grab you something to drink.”

She slipped into the kitchen alone and leaned against the counter. Overwhelmed with everything happening, she wasn't sure if she'd handled sharing the news the right way. She swallowed hard. Her dad supported her?

She never thought she'd see the day that Daddy backed her decision in anything, much less business. She'd purposely kept her plans to herself for fear of rejection, and he'd known all along. It almost sounded like he'd set her up by giving Juan the money to test him … and he'd passed.

Juan walked into the kitchen. “Babe? Are you okay?”

She was now. She smiled, walking into his embrace. “I'm wonderful.”

“Good.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Do you think once everyone goes home, we can spend some time together, just the two of us?”

“I think I can pencil you in, honey,” she whispered.

She grinned, remembering how two months ago, she would've had to check her schedule before answering. Those days were long gone. She enjoyed the spontaneity that came with being married to Amante Español.

Avon, Massachusetts

This edition published by

Crimson Romance

an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

Blue Ash, Ohio 45242

www.crimsonromance.com

Copyright © 2014 by Debra Kayn.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

ISBN 10: 1-4405-6653-4

ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6653-0

eISBN 10: 1-4405-6654-2

eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6654-7

Cover art © istock.com/GrenouilleFilms and 123rf.com.

This one goes to my oldest brother, Doug. He was the football star in the family and because of his sport, I attended every game, practice, camp, and hung out with the team like every little sister wishes she could do. I can still throw a spiral better than most girls, and believe there's no such thing as flag football.

1. Title Page
   
2. Copyright Page
   
3. Dedication
   
4. Chapter One
   
5. Chapter Two
   
6. Chapter Three
   
7. Chapter Four
   
8. Chapter Five
   
9. Chapter Six
   
10. Chapter Seven
    
11. Chapter Eight
    
12. Chapter Nine
    
13. Chapter Ten
    
14. Chapter Eleven
    
15. Chapter Twelve
    
16. Chapter Thirteen
    
17. Chapter Fourteen
    
18. Chapter Fifteen
    
19. Chapter Sixteen
    
20. Chapter Seventeen
    
21. Chapter Eighteen
    
22. Chapter Nineteen
    
23. Chapter Twenty
    
24. Chapter Twenty-One
    
25. Chapter Twenty-Two
    
26. Chapter Twenty-Three
    
27. Chapter Twenty-Four
    
28. Chapter Twenty-Five
    
29. Chapter Twenty-Six
    
30. About the Author
    

The gravel road crunched under the soles of Angie Swanson's Nike runners. The fierce wind blew off the mountain range and swept her honey-brown hair behind her shoulders. She stopped in the middle of Main Street and squinted into the setting sun, gazing down a barren, straight road.

Of all the places she never imagined herself ending up, it was Deadhorse, Oregon. Worse yet, she always dreamed she'd be working at a major spa, specializing in Swedish massage. Instead, she was the super pumper at her older brother Drew's gas station.

It was, in fact, The Gas Station. Drew couldn't even come up with a better name on the sign, despite her suggestions to glam it up into something more. Angie's Pumps, Octane in Lavender, or even leaning in the direction of hilarity with
Let us pump you up
would've been better than The Gas Station. Drew had rejected all of them for the nondescript, boring name; but that wasn't surprising. He lived in Deadhorse.

Dead. Horse.

She didn't belong here. The slow pace where people only talked about the weather and June Murphy's prized rose bushes outside the post office bored her to tears. To her, they were flowers. Red ones, that looked like any other rose bush in a million other front yards.

She had been born to do something big. Bigger than pumping gas in a deceased animal town where only the wind kept her company.

After spending four years at Washington State University, majoring in Journalism, she'd quickly learned after taking a community class on therapeutic massages that she wanted to change professions. So, she'd left her gopher position at the
Seattle Times
, and succeeded in landing a posh job at Le Massage. Then, three months ago, after working there almost two years, the spa closed. Unable to afford to keep renting the apartment she shared with her best friend, Jules, she'd taken up Drew's offer to work for him.