Читать книгу High-Powered, Hot-Blooded / Westmoreland's Way: High-Powered, Hot-Blooded / Westmoreland's Way - Brenda Jackson - Страница 10

Duncan drove toward the hotel. Annie was silent, but he was aware of her next to him. He could inhale the scent of her subtle and feminine perfume. When he turned his head to the right, he caught a glimpse of her sleek thighs. Every now and then he heard a soft sigh.

“Are you mad at me or Tim?” he asked.

“What? Neither of you.” She shifted toward him. “Mr. Patrick, I really appreciate your help with Tim. And he will, too. Eventually.”

Unlikely, Duncan thought. But he’d been wrong before. Maybe rehab was what Tim needed. If it didn’t work, he would screw up again and find himself in jail.

“I’ve been calling him all week,” she admitted. “Trying to explain. Today is the first time I’ve seen him since we made our deal. He was so angry.”

“You know he’s lashing out at you because it’s safe, right?” he asked. “He can’t admit he has a problem, so it has to be everyone else’s fault.”

“I know, but it was still hard to hear.”

Tim was damn lucky to have Annie for his sister, Duncan thought. Unlikely he would recognize that, either.

“You going to be all right?” he asked.

“You mean can I still do my job?” she asked with a smile. “Yes. As well as I could have before Tim showed up.” She bit her lower lip. “I’m not very good at this sort of thing.”

Hell of a time to admit that, he thought, amused by her honesty. “Going to parties? There’s not much of an expectation. Look pretty and smile adoringly at me. You got through college. This should be easy by comparison.”

“There’s a little more to it than that,” she said. “Or aren’t I expected to hold a conversation?”

“You’re talking just fine.”

“You’re less scary than a room full of people I don’t know.”

“Then maybe you should call me Duncan instead of Mr. Patrick.”

Her breath caught. He liked the sound. It was unexpected and sexy as hell. The kind of sound a woman made when…

He stopped himself in midthought. Hold on there, he told himself. Annie McCoy was many things, but sexy? He slid his gaze across her bare thighs. Okay, yeah, maybe sexy applied, but it was beside the point. He’d hired her to do a job—nothing more. Besides, she wasn’t his type.

“Duncan,” she said softly.

He looked at her and their eyes met. Hers were a deep blue, wide, with dark lashes. Her hair was different, he thought, remembering the curls. Tonight it was smooth, with waves. Sleek, he thought, although he preferred the curls. The dress was appropriate. He appreciated the way it emphasized her curves, not to mention the flash of thigh.

“You look good,” he said.

She tugged at the hem of her dress. “It’s Cameron’s doing. He was great. Funny and really knowledgeable about fashion. He made a list of what shoes and evening bags go with each dress.”

“Cameron knows his stuff.”

“He mentioned you were college roommates.”

Duncan chuckled. “That was a long time ago. I’ll admit he was the first openly gay guy I’d ever met and that I wasn’t happy to have him as my roommate.”

“Too macho to understand?” she asked.

“Partially. I also had the idea that he would attack me in my sleep, which was pretty stupid of me. It took a while, but we became friends. When he moved back to L.A. a few years ago and opened his own business, he looked me up. I signed on as a client.”

“He was nice,” she said. “My cousins and Kami had a great time shopping, too.”

“They went with you?”

“Uh-huh. You said I can keep the clothes, which is very nice of you, but honestly, can you see me wearing anything like this ever again? It’s not exactly suitable for the classroom.” She smiled. “So everyone came with me and offered opinions. As long as Cameron agreed with the choices, I got outfits they can wear later. We’re all about the same size.”

“You’re going to give your cousins and their friend your clothes when this is done?”

“Isn’t that okay? You said you didn’t want them back.”

“I don’t have a lot of use for them. They’re yours.”

“Thank you.”

He turned the idea over in his mind. He couldn’t picture any other woman giving up an expensive wardrobe without a whole lot of motivation. Her comment about wearing them, or not wearing them, in the classroom made sense. But didn’t she date? Didn’t she want to hold on to them just because she could? The situation didn’t make sense, which meant Duncan was going to have to figure it out. Success meant winning and winning meant understanding his opponent and exploiting his or her weakness. He might have bought Annie’s time, but he didn’t trust her. Not a big deal as he didn’t trust anyone. Ever.

Annie ran her hands over the smooth leather of the seats. The car, an expensive German sedan, still smelled new. The engine was quiet, the dashboard filled with complex-looking displays. She had a feeling that an engineering degree would make working the stereo easier.

“Your car is really nice,” she said. “Mine has this weird rattle in the dash. My mechanic says there’s nothing wrong with how it drives, so I live with it. But it makes it tough to sing along with the radio.”

“You can’t get it fixed?”

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “I could,” she said slowly. “And I will. Right after I win the lottery. But first I need new tires. It’s always something, right? But that’s okay. My car is really dependable. We have a deal—it starts for me every morning and I don’t replace it.”

His mouth twitched. “You talk to your car?”

“Sure. You probably don’t.”

“Your car and I have never met.”

She laughed. “I can introduce you, if you’d like.”

“No thanks.” He turned left at the light.

“I’ve been thinking, we’re going to have to tell people how we met. That’s always the question right after ‘How long have you been dating?’”

“Three months.”

“Okay.” She made a mental note. “How about saying it was Labor Day weekend. You were on your way to the beach when you saw me on the side of the road with a flat tire. You stopped to help.”

“No one will believe that.”

“You wouldn’t stop?” She did her best not to sound disapproving. “You have to help people. It’s good karma.”

“Maybe I don’t believe in karma.”

“You don’t have to—it still happens. I think the universe keeps the score pretty even.”

“Doubtful. If that were true, I wouldn’t be a success.”

“Why not?”

“Haven’t you read anything about me? I’m a total bastard. I hired you to prove otherwise.”

“If you were a total bastard, you would have had Tim arrested the second you found out what he’d done. You were willing to let him pay back the money.”

“Only because I didn’t want the negative press.” He glanced at her. “Be careful, Annie. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m nicer than I am. You’ll only get hurt.”

Maybe. But didn’t his warning her prove her point?

The hotel ballroom was large, elegant and extremely well-lit. Music from a suit-wearing combo drifted under the hum of conversation. Annie held on to her glass of club soda and lime and did her best not to look panicked. Well-dressed people chatted and laughed with each other. There were enough diamonds glittering to stretch from here to Montana. She had a feeling the cost of all the designer shoes would easily settle the national debt.

Duncan’s world was an interesting place and about as far from her classroom as it was possible to get while staying on this planet. Still, she was here to do a job, so she remained by his side, smiling at him adoringly, endlessly shaking hands with people whose names she would never remember.

“How long have you and Duncan been dating?” a well-dressed woman in her forties asked.

“Three months,” Annie said. “We met on Labor Day weekend.”

“That’s an eternity for our Duncan. You must be special.”

“He’s the special one,” Annie said.

“You’re not exactly his type.”

Duncan must have heard. He put his arm around Annie and pulled her against him. “My type has changed.”

“So I see.”

Annie leaned into him, finding the closeness less awkward than she would have expected. Duncan was tall and well muscled. She could feel the power of him, but instead of making her nervous, his strength made her feel protected and safe. As if nothing bad could happen while he was around.

An illusion, she reminded herself. But a nice one.

When the woman moved away, Duncan led Annie over to another group of people and performed more introductions. One of the men there worked for a business magazine.

“Mind if I ask you a few questions?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “As long as you don’t mind me being nervous.”

“Not into the press?”

“Not really.”

“You can’t date a guy like Duncan Patrick and expect to go unnoticed.”

“So I’ve been told.”

The man, slight and pale, in his mid-thirties asked, “How did you meet?”

She gave him the story about the Labor Day tire trouble. He didn’t look convinced.

“Someone said you teach?”

“Kindergarten. I love working with kids. They’re so excited about school. I know that it’s up to me to keep that excitement alive, to prepare them to be successful in the education system. If we can show young children the thrill of learning, we can keep them in school through graduation and make sure they get to college.”

The reporter blinked at her. “Okay. So why Duncan Patrick?”

She smiled. “Because he’s a terrific guy. Although I have to tell you, the first thing I noticed was his laugh. He has a great laugh.”

The reporter blinked again. “I’ve never heard him laugh.”

“Then I guess you’re going to have to be more funny.”

Duncan moved toward them. “Charles,” he said, shaking the other man’s hand. “Good to see you.”

“You, too.”

Duncan turned his attention to her. “Let’s dance,” he said, taking the glass from her and putting it on a tray by the wall. He grabbed her hand and led her from the reporter.

Annie waved at Charles, then tapped Duncan on the arm. “I don’t really dance.”

“It’s not hard. I’ll lead.”

She didn’t know if that would help. “Do you think we could convince everyone to play Duck, Duck, Goose instead? Because I’m really good at that.”

Duncan stopped, turned to her and started to laugh. She was pleased to realize she hadn’t lied about his laugh—it was great.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, pulling her into his arms.

“Okay, but I apologize in advance for stepping on your toes.”

Despite the fact that he was taller, she fit easily against him. He moved with a sureness that made him easy to follow, guiding her with his body and the hand on her waist. After a few steps, she managed to relax a little.

He smelled good, she thought absently. Clean but masculine. His suit was soft under her fingers as she rested her hand on his shoulder. Heat enveloped her. Heat and something else. The whisper of a tingle low in her belly.

Annie kept moving on the outside, but on the inside, everything went still. Tingles? There weren’t supposed to be any tingles. This was a job. She couldn’t have feelings for Duncan Patrick. She shouldn’t like him or be attracted to him. He was her boss and their time together was just for show.

Maybe it was just because she hadn’t been on a date in so long, she told herself. It was like being really hungry. Any kind of food would make her stomach growl, even something she didn’t really want. Duncan was a good-looking guy. Of course she would respond. But she was smart enough to be careful. This was kind of like a fairy tale. She was Cinderella and the ball would end at midnight. Or in her case, Christmas. Only, there wouldn’t be a shoe to leave behind and in the end, no handsome prince would come after her.

Annie held up better than he’d expected, Duncan thought two hours later. She’d managed to tell the story of his stopping to help her with her flat tire a dozen times. She was so enthused and sincere, even he was starting to believe her. The guests at the party seemed equally charmed and confused by Annie. He’d caught more than one questioning look, as if they were wondering what he was doing with someone so…nice.

Even Charles Patterson, a business reporter, had liked Annie. All Duncan needed was a couple of favorable articles to balance the negative ones.

He collected the drinks from the bartender and returned to Annie’s side. He handed her the club soda with lime she’d requested—so far she hadn’t had any alcohol—and bent toward her as she touched his arm.

“I was telling Charles that his information is wrong,” she said to Duncan. “You’re not closing a shipping facility in Indiana, are you?” Her eyes widened. “It’s practically Christmas. Not only wouldn’t you put people out of work for the holidays, but it’s your busiest season. You need all the workers you can get.”

She was half-right, Duncan thought grimly. This was his busy time, but he’d had every intention of closing the facility. The rural routes it served weren’t profitable.

Annie stared at him, waiting for his response. He had a feeling she wasn’t playing—that she actually believed he wouldn’t want to put people out of work at Christmas. Charles looked smug, no doubt assuming the worst, which had always worked for him in the past.

Duncan swore silently and reminded himself that currently his reputation was more important than the bottom line.

“Annie’s right,” he said easily. “The facility is staying open at least through the first.”

Charles raised his eyebrows. “Can I quote you on that?”

Duncan nodded.

“Interesting.” The reporter moved away.

“Why would he think that about you?” she asked when they were alone. “No one would be that mean. It’s Christmas.” She took a sip of her drink. “It’s my favorite time of year. In my family, we’re big believers in more-is-more at the holidays.” She laughed. “We always buy a really huge tree and then can’t get it home, let alone in the house. Last year we had to cut off the top two feet, which is kind of sad. But they don’t look that big on the lot. Then there’s the decorating, the baking. I love Christmas carols. Jenny and Julie start to complain after a couple of days, but I keep playing them. Then we have Christmas movie-fest weekends when we watch all our favorites. What are some of your traditions?”

“I don’t have any.”

Her eyes widened. “Why not?”

“It’s just a day, Annie.”

“But it’s Christmas. That makes it more than a day. It’s about family and love and giving and imagining the best in the world.”

“You’re too naive. You need toughening up.”

“And you need to spend some quality time listening to Christmas carols. Don’t you decorate your house?”

He thought of his expensive condo and the look on his housekeeper’s face if he dragged in a live tree to shed on the bamboo flooring.

“I usually travel for Christmas. Skiing or maybe somewhere warm.”

“What about your family?”

“There’s only my uncle and he does just fine without me.”

She looked confused, as if he’d started speaking a foreign language. “Next you’re going to tell me you don’t exchange gifts.”

“We don’t.”

She winced. “Tradition is important. Being together. It’s special.”

“Have you been a hopeless romantic your whole life?”

“Apparently. How long have you been a complete cynic?”

“Decades.”

She surprised him by laughing. “At least you’ll admit it. They say that’s the first step in starting the healing process.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“Want to take a survey of ten random people? I’ll put my Christmas traditions up against your noncelebration and we’ll see who falls on the side of normal.”

“I don’t need anyone else’s opinion to tell me I’m right.”

She grinned. “You don’t have to go to the gym, do you? Carrying around that ego is enough of a workout.”

“It keeps me in shape.”

She laughed again. The sound made him smile. She was prettier than he’d first thought. Opinionated when she forgot to be shy. Loyal to the point of stupidity, at least when it came to her brother, but everyone had flaws. The answers she’d e-mailed earlier had given him facts about her life but hadn’t told him much about who Annie really was. In a practical sense, she was what he’d needed—a nice girl. But she was also appealing in a lot of ways.

Without thinking, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against hers. She stiffened slightly before relaxing into the kiss. Her mouth was soft and yielding. Aware of the people around them, he drew back. As he straightened, he heard the sound of her breath catch and caught the flash of surprise in her eyes. Then she blinked and it was gone.

“You didn’t say anything about kissing,” she whispered, her voice a little husky. “I think we’re going to need a special clause to cover that.”

“The kissing clause?”

She nodded. “Set limits early and reinforce them.”

He chuckled. “I’m not one of your students.”

“That doesn’t mean you won’t be getting a time-out.”