The Millionaire Tempted Fate (A Novella) (Sweet and Savory Romances) by Shirley Jump

she'd walked in on Bobby Reynolds getting his football physical at the end of senior year.
    Unfortunately, she'd opened the locker room door right in the middle of his hernia screening.
    For two years after that, she'd been unable to look Bobby in the face. Or eat pork products ever again.
    "Don't give a dime to Bongo Boy," Maria said, grabbing Meredith's arm and hauling her away. "He makes more than most investment bankers."
    "He does?" Meredith craned her head over Maria's, casting one last look at Bongo Boy's swiveling anatomy.
    "He heard about that naked cowboy who plays guitar in New York—"
    "There's a naked man playing guitar in New York?" Geez. She needed to travel more. Scratch that. Travel, period, considering this was only the second time in her life she'd left Indiana, if she even counted that trip to the Ohio State Fair.
    And this time she hadn't left . Exactly. More like run away . She'd abandoned a whole lot of people's expectations, leaping at the chance for something new, exciting, different.
    She just hadn't expected the first exciting thing she saw to be a man in his tightie whities pounding out Yankee Doodle Dandy.
    "The Naked Cowboy isn't really naked. I saw him once in Times Square." Maria shook her head, clearly disappointed. "I tell you, there's no truth in advertising anymore."
    The instant she'd met her, Meredith decided she liked Maria. Maria was one of the trio of business partners at Gift Baskets to Die For, along with Meredith's cousin, Rebecca Hamilton, and another woman named Candace Woodrow.
    A buxom Italian brunette, Maria wore a bright red dress and medium heels that set off her fabulous legs and made virtually every man in a thirty-foot radius stop and stare. The complete opposite to Meredith's long, straight and uninspired blond hair and dark blue eyes, all about as exciting as a Honda in a lot full of Ferraris.
    Brash, outspoken and unafraid of color in her clothes, Maria was everything Meredith was not. Most of all, Maria was a perfect friend for what Meredith wanted to accomplish while she was staying in the city: a major overhaul of her life and her self.
    "I think it's great that you're doing this for us," Maria said, shouting a little to be heard as they made their way through the crowds. "Dropping everything to come and help Rebecca while she's on bed rest. We were desperate for the extra help."
    Desperate was something Meredith understood. When Rebecca had called yesterday morning to ask if Meredith could help out while Rebecca was home working on a healthy pregnancy, Meredith couldn't say yes fast enough. Undoubtedly, her blue-ribbon past at the Indiana State Fair and familial loyalty made her the first choice for helping them out of a jam.
    Meredith circumvented a businessman with a lethal briefcase that kept swinging into her knees. "When Rebecca called, it took me about a half second to give my notice at Petey's Pizza Parlor, hang up my uniform for good, pack my bags and hop on the first plane out of Indiana."
    Maria laughed. "A little eager to leave?"
    "Oh yeah . I'd have crawled to Boston from Indiana to finally find a life that involved more than cows and corn." She glanced back over her shoulder at Bongo Boy. "I just didn't expect to have it thrust in my face, percussion complement included."
    "Hey, get used to the unusual. That's part of what this city is all about."
    Bongo Boy's native pounding was silenced when she and Maria stepped onto the subway car and the doors swooshed shut behind them.
    Crowds shoved their way through the jam-packed Blue Line conveyance. Meredith thought of the hundreds—maybe thousands—of hands that had touched those silver poles today. She wasn't so sure she wanted to hold one, not without some gloves and antibacterial gel.
    "Come on, let's grab a seat," Maria said.
    "But they're all full." Besides, who knew what had sat in those seats? She was glad she was wearing long pants. Didn't want anything ... foreign crawling up her legs.
    "Not for