“Are you still in here?” Phyllis put her hands on her hips as she stood before Daphne’s desk and glowered at her. “Girl, it is five o’clock. You have been in here all day long. You haven’t made a phone call. You haven’t taken a phone call. You haven’t returned any phone calls. Mr. Abernathy stopped by twice to ask how your meeting this morning went. What is going on with you?”

“Did you know that the average bucking horse or bull only works an average of three minutes a year?” Daphne asked Phyllis. “Can you imagine that? Working three minutes a year and getting three square meals a day plus medical care and vacation time.”

Phyllis raised her eyebrows. “Sweetie, what is going on with you?”

“I was trying to beef up a little bit on the rodeo stuff since I have to do this media blitz for the Hernandez Land & Cattle Company account.”

“Okay.” Phyllis pressed her lips into a tight line. “And now you’ve become an expert on horses and cows?”

“Bulls and broncs,” Daphne corrected distractedly. “Cows don’t buck.”

“Cows don’t…” Phyllis shook her head. “I was just coming in to tell you that Ruth and I are locking up and leaving for the day.”

“Of course.” Daphne smiled at Phyllis. “Aren’t Monday nights ballet night for your granddaughters?”

Phyllis beamed. The older woman had one son who had produced two elfin daughters that were so girly it was a true blessing to the poor woman’s heart. “They’re starting to practice for the summer recital! I’ve just been so proud of my girls these last few classes, you know. They’re working so hard and really improving.”

“I remember being absolutely horrible at dance class,” Daphne said mournfully. “I would have given my right pinkie toe to be good at dancing. My mother would have been so happy.”

That was actually a terrible memory. Daphne’s mother had wanted badly for her daughter to be a very girly girl in pink tights and a tutu. Daphne hadn’t been at all talented or coordinated enough to handle that sort of thing. She had played soccer, softball, and volleyball, even getting a soccer scholarship that had paid for a good chunk of her college tuition. Unfortunately, that had not been Daphne’s mother’s dream. Her father had been more supportive, but he had passed away when she was a freshman in college. Now Daphne and her mother barely spoke.

“Your mother should have been happy enough with a beautiful daughter who got a scholarship and eventually found a good paying job,” Phyllis growled. “I don’t know what comes over some women when they cannot just be happy with the healthy children God gave them.”

Daphne chuckled to herself. Phyllis had met Daphne’s mother more than once when the woman had called on Daphne at work to go to lunch. Saying that Phyllis was not a fan was putting it mildly.

“According to my mother,” Daphne teased, “if you want to look healthy, you must do so in a pink frilly dress.”

“Good heavens!” Phyllis rolled her eyes and threw up her hands. “Saints preserve us if I ever walk into your office and see such a sight!”

Daphne was still chuckling to herself about that when Phyllis left. She could not stop thinking about the Hernandez brothers and their bucking horses and bulls and all of that rich history. Yet the one thing that continued to stick out in her mind was the way Met had said the word “pain.”

She searched for Demetrio Hernandez, rodeo rider, on her computer and came up with nearly twenty thousand hits. They ranged from statistics from the Pro Rodeo Association to newspaper clips about rides that had taken place many years ago. Then she started seeing injury reports. One after another article detailed broken shoulders, broken hips, cracked and broken ribs, a broken leg, and countless concussions. The man was twenty-two years old and had been following the rodeo circuit since he was seventeen. Before that, he had participated as a young teenager in both junior and high school rodeo associations. The guy had the body of a sixty-year-old. The word pain probably did not begin to cover what he was feeling.

“You’re still here.”

Daphne froze. Normally the Abernathy Firm was a large enough organization that it was possible to avoid certain employees who worked in places other than her own department. Justin Sorenson was a fantastic example of that. Justin was a CPA down in accounting. He had no reason to be up on her floor. He had no reason to speak to her, to look at her, or to even think about her.

“I’m sorry, Justin, did the accounting department need something?” Daphne kept her tone cool.

This was the only way to deal with a man like Justin. The narcissistic little prick had stalked her for months after their breakup. But that was three years ago now. She had been much younger and far more foolish. Since then, her policy had been strictly no contact, and it was working very nicely.

“Actually, I came upstairs because I saw that you were working on the Hernandez account.” Justin folded his arms over his chest and leaned against her doorframe.

He was a good-looking man. That had been the first thing she’d noticed all those years ago. His looks and the way he had absolutely doted on her in the beginning. Of course, that was all a cover-up for his real agenda, which involved sucking her self-esteem dry to not only bolster his career but to make himself feel better about his own shortcomings as well.

“I’m not sure why that would matter to the accounting department.” Daphne kept her eyes glued to her computer screen. She refused to make eye contact. There was no point. If she did, Justin would just claim that she had been coming on to him. It had happened before during the first year post breakup. “If you have a problem with the Hernandez account, you need to take it up with Mr. Abernathy. This was his personal request that I handle the account.”

“Is that right?” Justin asked silkily. “That must make you feel good.”

He was trying to suck her in. She knew it. Fortunately, she also knew how to divert his attention. “Actually, it doesn’t make me feel good at all. It’s a tough account, and it will take a lot of hours.”

“Would you like me to put a good word in for you with Mr. Abernathy?” Justin’s voice oozed that solicitous nonsense she had quickly grown tired of. “I could, you know. The two of us are quite close.”

“I had no idea Mr. Abernathy hung out down in accounting,” Daphne mused. Then she stood up. “Well, it’s after five and time for me to go home.”

“Let me walk you.”

“No, thank you. I’m fine.” Daphne stepped out of her office with Justin scooting along right ahead of her. What was his problem? Why now? What was it about this case that was poking at him enough to leave a narcissistic wound he felt like he had to assuage?

Daphne snagged her wallet and keys from the small shelf just inside her door before closing and locking it. Then she moved off down the long hallway with Justin pacing at her side. The reek of his cologne was so strong that she felt like it was coating her throat and making it almost impossible to breathe.

He pushed the button for the elevator. She considered the stairs. No doubt that would just make Justin decide to take the stairs too. His thinning dirty-blond hair was slicked back from his face with a good amount of product. She could have sworn he was wearing more moisturizer and probably even foundation than she was.

The elevator dinged. It was down on the first floor. They were on the eighth. It was going to take forever, and Daphne would not have put it past Justin to hit every button in the elevator before stepping out just to prevent her from making a quick exit.

“I was thinking,” Justin said in a voice filled with a false sense of sudden impulse. “We should grab some dinner tonight. There’s a new movie playing. I know how you love the movies.”

That was the thing with Justin. He actually didn’t know her at all. He had this ironclad conception of who he thought she should be. It did not at all jive with who she was. It was just his projection of the perfect girlfriend that he had tried to mold her into.

“No thanks,” Daphne said firmly. “I have plans.”

“What plans?”

She turned to stare at him. He was being very aggressive. Why? “I’m not entirely sure that’s any of your business.”

“Of course it’s my business.” Justin’s pale yellowish-green eyes narrowed. “If you’re about to get into a bad situation with some lowlife just to secure an account, it is most certainly my business.”

“Actually,” Daphne said through clenched teeth, “if that’s truly what you believe to be happening, your responsibility is to tell Mr. Abernathy.” She stared at his expression. Something in her gut twisted. “Except you already told Mr. Abernathy and he feels there’s no danger.” She wanted to laugh out loud. “I’m right, aren’t I? You’re trying to make this into something that it isn’t because you have that bizarre desire to swoop in and be the hero of every situation even when you are not at all needed.”

Oh, her mouth had really run away with her now. She could see it the moment the words “not needed” tripped off her tongue. He did not like that at all. His eyes darkened, and his mouth twisted into something very ugly. She started to back away, but that was the moment that the elevator finally dinged.

The doors whooshed open in front of her, and Daphne moved to step inside. To her surprise, and maybe even relief, there was someone else in that elevator. Not just anyone though. Demetrio Hernandez was standing just inside the elevator with an easy smile in place on his handsome features.

“Well, hello there, Ms. Evans,” Met drawled. “It would appear that I arrived just in time.”

“So you did,” Daphne murmured. She hastily stepped into the elevator. To her horror, so did Justin.

Met looked at Justin and shrugged. Then he pushed the button for the lobby. “Sir, are you headed to the lobby as well?”

“Parking one, actually.” Justin sniffed derisively at Met. “I actually work here.”

Met’s brow furrowed. His face was so open that every single thing he felt or experienced was right there on display. Daphne could see that he was very quickly trying to decipher what the relationship was between Justin and Daphne, and that Met was getting the feeling it wasn’t a positive association.

“Well, congratulations, then, on the new job,” Met said easily.

Daphne almost spit she was trying so hard to contain a laugh. It was Justin’s turn to have a furrowed brow as Met pressed the P-1 button. Then Justin glared at Met. “What do you mean, my new job?”

“I can’t imagine why you would feel the need to tell me that you work here unless it was a new situation.” Met shrugged. “It’s not like I feel the need to say, ‘Hi. I’m Met Hernandez, and I’m a customer here at the Abernathy Firm.’ That would just be redundant and more than a little weird.”

Justin’s mouth opened and closed, but he didn’t say anything. Daphne tried in vain to hide her smirk. She didn’t want to make things worse with Justin. Yet it was so good to see him get pushed around a bit verbally by someone with more resources and enough confidence to sit his ass down on a two thousand pound bull determined to throw him on the ground and kick his face in.

“So,” Daphne said brightly. She smiled at Met. “Where would you like to go for dinner tonight? It’s my treat since we’ll be talking mostly about the media exposure your brother requested for your company’s livestock contract negotiations.”

If Met was shocked or somehow taken aback by her sudden invitation to dinner, it did not show one bit. He began to nod his head slowly. “You know how it is when you ask a cowboy what they want to eat. We always like a good steak. I know a place on the outskirts of town that sells the best. Of course, they also sell Hernandez beef, so maybe I’m partial to it.”

“Sounds wonderful.” Daphne hazarded a sideways glance at Justin. He was boiling mad. His face was actually turning red.

“It’s very inappropriate,” Justin began, “to take a customer out for dinner.” Then Justin pointed right at Daphne. “You cannot charge the company expense account for that sort of thing. This is a personal dinner. Admit it!”

“Hey now.” Met’s tone was mild, but there was steel underneath it. “You’d best watch how you talk to Ms. Evans. She’s a lady and doesn’t deserve to be treated with disrespect.” There was a storm building on Met Hernandez’s face, and it was aimed right at Justin. “If you’ve got a problem with it, I’ll talk to Mr. Abernathy myself. I don’t think he would appreciate the way you’re treating one of his employees.”

“Justin works in accounting,” Daphne found herself saying. “He’s very defensive over company spending.”

Justin drew himself up as though this was a compliment. It made Daphne feel better when Met laughed instead of being impressed. “So, you’re one of those penny-pinching pencil pushers. Damn! I have problems with those guys even in my own office. I can’t stand desk jockeys. No offense, man, but your job sucks ass.”

The elevator dinged on the lobby floor. Without another glance at Justin, Daphne stepped out of the horrible little box with Met Hernandez and began walking toward the exit. The doors closed behind them, and Justin was likely buzzed right on down to his parking garage. She had escaped this time. But there was no telling what would be happening tomorrow. Daphne needed to keep her guard up. Justin was obviously trying to suck her back into that abusive cycle with him for some reason. She needed to be strong or she was going to get bowled over.