Irresistible? Read Online Free

kids while his mother drank wine in a corner and her sisters tsk-tsked over her woeful lack of grandchildren.
    â€œSo, are you bringing a date?” she asked hopefully.
    â€œI’m definitely bringing a change of clothes in case Mickey’s little one has the runs again.”
    Gloria covered her mouth and shook with laughter. “The video he took of you two is just precious.”
    Mark rolled his eyes heavenward. “I’m awaiting my debut on one of those home-video shows.”
    â€œStop changing the subject. Are you bringing a date or not?”
    His thoughts shifted to Shelia, the woman who’d last graced his bed. She hadn’t struck him as a woman who’d appreciate the rural pleasures of pitching horseshoes and doing the hokey-pokey. Neither did Vicki, Connie or Valerie, come to think of it. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said. It was as close to a promise as he could make. Suddenly, a vision of short blond hair and flashing blue eyes came to mind, and he frowned. “I’m not really seeing anyone right now.”
    Gloria clasped her hands together gleefully. “Stella’s niece is in town for the Sunday-school teachers’ convention—shall I give her a call?”
    â€œNo,” Mark said quickly, then recovered. “I have a lot to do at work this week, you know, rearranging my office and all that. I’ll be working late every night.”
    His mother shrugged, clearly disappointed. “Suit yourself.”
    Later, Mark squashed down guilty feelings which threatened to surface as he drove home. He knew his mother wanted to see him properly settled with a nice, quiet girl, but he truly liked being single. He’d sacrificed his social life during law school and the first few years after joining his firm in order to get a foothold. Now at thirty-six and established in his career, he was enjoying his unattached status. Life was good.
    He almost managed to drive by the interstate exit to his office, but he merged onto the ramp at the last second. Just a few minutes to go over some paperwork, he told himself.
    After he unlocked the office suite, he walked across the glossy inlaid wood floor not without a measure of pride. He considered the law office tastefully furnished, with just the right amount of opulence. His new office space had been achieved by removing a supply room adjacent to his existing office. He had been asked to select additional furniture, and he was pleased with his pecan wood and cream marble choices.
    The Piedmont Park painting had been hung, and he approved of the location. One of his favorite pieces of art in the law office, he’d requested it for his own work area when the move began. He flipped on a floor lamp near his desk, and settled into his familiar tan leather chair to shuffle through the stack of papers on his desk.
    Congratulatory memos comprised the top layer of paper. A box of cigars and an expensive leather-covered pen set were gifts from thoughtful colleagues. He smiled in satisfaction. Everything he’d worked for had finally been realized. He would never have to struggle like his father just to make ends meet. Clasping his hands behind his head, he leaned back in the swivel chair to prop his feet on the corner of his desk, basking for a moment in the recognition of his hard-won achievement.
    Partner.
    At a sound from the doorway, Mark turned his head. Patrick Beecham stood there, holding the hand of Patrick, Junior. “Hi, Mark,” Patrick said, his voice full of surprise. “Pretty late to be working.”
    Mark rearranged himself into a position more appropriate for talking. “I could say the same,” he said to his partner with a smile.
    â€œI just stopped by to get a fax,” Patrick said. The small boy pulled on his father’s pant leg. “This is Pat, Junior,” he added.
    â€œI remember,” Mark said. “He’s growing like a weed. How’re you doing,