Lisa Renee Jones- Too Close For Comfort, WSZYSTKO
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Too Close For Comfort
Lisa Renee Jones
© 2004
Too Close For Comfort
Lisa Renee Jones
Published 2004
ISBN 1-931761-87-6
Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 6280
Crittenden Ave, Indianapolis, Indiana. Copyright © 2004, Lisa Renee Jones. All rights
reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise,
without the prior written permission of the author.
Manufactured in the United States of America
Liquid Silver Books
http://www.liquidsilverbooks.com
Email:
raven@liquidsilverbooks.com
Cover Art
by Donette Smock
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of
the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual
events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
Prologue
Even sex had lost its appeal.
And damn if he thought he would ever see that day. But the simple fact was, sex now
came with too many hidden agendas.
Gone were the days when sex was just sex, two peoples' mutual desire to share their
bodies, a release that came with pleasure and maybe some sincere emotion if it was with
the right person.
He let out a disgusted snort.
Who was the last woman he was with who hadn't thought he was a score because he
was a pitcher in the majors? He couldn't even remember. The less naive he had become,
the more he had looked back at the past and realized there had been a lot of bullshit in
most of his adult relationships.
Corey Evans stood behind the mahogany wet-bar in the far corner of his basement-
level den. It was his room of peace, the place he always chose to unwind and embrace
being by himself, a sanctuary of sorts.
A place he pretended to be normal.
This was his hiding place from the public eye.
But he wasn't normal or he wouldn't be getting death threats from a crazy fan. No, he
was a pro-baseball player, a pitcher even. He had it all.
Or so everyone thought.
A television hung from the ceiling, just above the bar, even though a massive big
screen sat in the center of the room. Corey never wanted to miss a major sporting
moment because he was across the room. He needed to see the action up close and
personal.
Leaning his palms against the railing, he struggled to stay focused on the television.
The Rangers were playing baseball at its finest, which usually held his interest. He had a
special fondness for several of their players. After all, he had played side by side with
them for years.
He'd never forget the day he got the call, the day he was told he was going to the
big
show,
pitching for the Rangers. Even years after and two teams later, he still loved that
team.
Yet today his mind lingered on the upcoming meeting his manager had arranged with
some security specialist.
Shelby Allen.
A woman.
Why had he agreed to meet her? He wasn't even slightly inclined to agree to extra
security. What he really wanted was to be left the hell alone.
What was making him so dissatisfied with life in general? Most people would kill for
his life. Of course, very few understood the things that were lost when in the public eye.
He stared in the direction of the television without really seeing it, absentmindedly
tapping a finger on the bar.
A feeling of impending impulsiveness had consumed his thoughts the majority of the
day. He hated feeling as if he did not have control over his own existence. Feeling out of
sorts, he ran the fingers of one hand roughly through his hair.
He was known as a nice guy. Well, damn it, maybe that was his problem. He was a
walking target. Did he wear "screw me" plastered on his forehead? He needed to take
control of his life. Maybe that would put an end to his feelings of dissatisfaction.
Shelby Allen would be the first to witness a new Corey. He didn't want extra security
so he'd make sure this Shelby Allen hated him so much she refused the job.
Chapter One
Leave it to a man to get a woman in trouble.
Shelby Allen gritted her teeth just thinking of the loser husband her sister had
hooked up with and now dumped.
Just not soon enough.
Kyle Rogers, the low-down scum-of-the-earth jerk, had hooked her sister, Carrie, on
gambling to the tune of twenty thousand dollars, which Carrie had proceeded to ask
Shelby for as flippantly as if it were a cup of sugar.
Though Allen Security was doing well, it had only opened a year ago, and her money
was tied up in start-up expenses. Twenty thousand dollars was like asking for water in a
desert.
It wasn't happening.
Only it had to happen or Carrie would be in hot water.
Because some wrestler-looking dude kept showing up at all hours of the night,
threatening to use the baseball bat he carried around with him, to influence Carrie's
pocket book.
Shelby sighed heavily, and shoved a long lock of her straight, brunette hair behind
her ear, as she followed her old friend, Dan Mortan, through the foyer of Corey Evan's
house. Dan turned to look at her. "You okay?"
Shelby forced a smile. "As fine as I can be considering I let you talk me into this in
the first place. You know how I feel about working for athletes."
"You don't know what it's like to work with an athlete. You dated Joey; you didn't
work for him." His expression held just a hint of reprimand.
Shelby's lips tightened. "I saw how he treated the people who worked for him, and I
don't want any part of being a doormat for some over-inflated ego."
"Joey Martin was and is a great quarterback, but he's also a crummy person and a
lousy friend. I know this and you know this. I took his abuse professionally; you took it
personally. But one bad relationship with an athlete should not make you pass up good
business opportunities with another. Taking on Corey Evans in place of Joey on my client
roster was one of my best decisions ever. He is the top pitcher in the game of baseball,
yet he's as down-to-earth as they come. Give him a chance, Shelby."
"I have no trouble getting clients," Shelby said, and it was the truth. She worked
mainly in the music industry, having been a dancer for one of the
it
singers of the
decade—prior to her parent's death.
She had learned all the ins and outs of security for the stars on purpose, knowing one
day she would take her father's law enforcement background and put it to use with a
high-end clientele ... only she had hoped she would be doing it with her father by her
side.
It had been their dream, her and her father's, to open Allen Security together. One he
had never lived to see come to fruition.
"I'm proud of you and how well your business has done. But how many of those jobs
pay what I have offered?"
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