High-Powered, Hot-Blooded(10)

"Do I want to know why you're smiling?" Duncan asked, leaning close and  putting his arm on the back of her chair. "Are you drunk?"

"I've taken one sip."

"You don't seem like much of a drinker."

"Maybe not, but even I can handle a cocktail."

"Are you putting me in my place?"

"Do you need me to do that? I'm tougher than I look, Duncan."

He laughed. "I'm sure you are."

While it hadn't been her best time ever, Annie managed to get through  the dinner without spilling, saying anything she regretted or  withdrawing completely. She'd managed to hold her own on a debate about  charter schools and had offered an opinion on the latest movie  sensation. When everyone was standing up to leave, the waiter appeared  with two large brown bags.         

     



 

"For those hungry college girls you have at home," Duncan said. "Three  entrées and dessert for all. It'll keep them out of your secret stash."

She was both surprised and touched. Talk about thoughtful. As they moved  toward the exit, she walked slowly, waiting until everyone else had  left. Then she put the bags on the nearby table, rested her hand on  Duncan's shoulder, reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

"You're a total fraud," she whispered. "You're not mean at all."

He dropped his arm around her waist and drew her closer. When he kissed  her back, it wasn't on the cheek and it wasn't meaningless. Duncan  pressed his lips to hers with a force that took her breath away. He  claimed, his mouth moving against hers. There was no doubt of what he  wanted, or of the fact that his intensity hinted he might just take it  without asking.

She was pressed against him, his arm like a band around her, holding her  in place. There was no escape, but there also wasn't any fear, either.  Instead of wanting to struggle with him, she found herself yielding,  instinctively realizing that he expected a fight. Surrender was the only  way to win.

As soon as she relaxed, so did his hold. His mouth gentled, still taking  but with a teasing quality. She was aware of silence around them, the  air of expectation. He lightly brushed her bottom lip with his tongue.

Fire shot through her. She parted for him and he claimed her with a  passion that left her weak. The second his tongue touched hers she was  lost. Wanting poured through her, making her surge closer. Unfamiliar  desperation swamped her. She wrapped her other arm around his neck and  pressed harder against the thick muscles of his chest. He could snap her  like a twig, if he wanted, and that was very much a part of his appeal.  The strength of him. If Duncan ever fully committed to someone, that  woman would be cared for and protected forever.

He stroked the inside of her mouth, exploring, arousing. She answered  each touch with a brush of her own. His hands moved against her back,  before dropping lower to her hips.

Heat invaded. Wanting grew. The need was unexpectedly powerful. She'd  dated before, had made love before, had even thought she'd been in love  before. But none of those experiences had prepared her for a passionate  kiss in Duncan's arms.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he drew back.

"Annie," he began, his tone warning.

She didn't know if he was going to remind her that their deal didn't  include sex or that she was playing with fire. She met his dark,  smoldering gaze and shook her head, then collected the doggie bags and  turned to leave.

She didn't want to hear that she wasn't anyone he could be interested  in. Not tonight. As to the danger of playing with fire … it was simply  something she was going to have to risk.





Five


"I'm sorry I can't make it tonight," Annie said, both frustrated and  worried. She was starting to enjoy her evenings with Duncan at the  various functions he took her to. But she was also worried about their  deal. "I hope you understand. It's a holiday emergency."

"A contingency we seem to have missed in our agreement."

Annie couldn't tell if he was pissed or not and found herself a little nervous about asking.

"It's just we had a lot of no-shows last weekend when the parents were supposed to help with the set decorations."

"For the Christmas play?" he asked.

"It's a winter festival, Duncan. We don't promote any one holiday celebration."

"And calling it a winter festival fools people?"

She heard the humor in his voice. "It's inclusive. So there are a bunch  of sets to be built and painted. I have to stay and help."

"What is your class doing?"

"Singing ‘Catch a Falling Star' while using American Sign Language at the same time."

"Multitasking at five. Impressive. All right, Ms. McCoy. Call me when  the sets are decorated. If there's time, I'll take you to the cocktail  party with me."

"I'm sorry to miss it," she said, sincere in her regret.

"You don't know that you will yet, do you?"

"We're not exactly a talented group when it comes to woodworking, Duncan. We're going to be here all night."

"Just call me."

She hung up and walked back into the main auditorium building. The other  teachers and a couple of volunteers were dividing up the work. As the  closest Annie had come to construction was the knitting class she'd  taken the previous summer, she was given paint detail.

Thirty minutes later everyone was hard at work, building, sanding and  painting. Fifteen minutes after that, four big guys in T-shirts, jeans  and work boots walked in. Each man had an impressively large toolbox  with him. The principal turned off the saw and removed her safety  goggles.         

     



 

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"We're here to help with the sets," one of the guys said. "Duncan Patrick sent us."

The teachers looked around in confusion. Annie cleared her throat.  "He's, ah, a friend of mine. I mentioned we hadn't had our usual parent  volunteers." She was trying to look perfectly normal, which probably  wasn't working, seeing as she couldn't stop smiling. A light, happy  feeling made her think she just might be able to float home instead of  drive.

The principal sighed gratefully. "We are desperate. Have you ever worked on sets for a school play before?"

The men exchanged glances. "Two of us are cabinet makers, and two of us  are house painters, ma'am. We can handle it. If you'll just tell us what  needs to be done, leave us to finish it and we're good."

Annie pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed Duncan's  number. "Thank you," she whispered when he picked up. "This is amazing."

"This is me making sure you don't back out of our deal. I'll pick you up at five. It won't be a late evening."

She wanted to say more, to have him admit he'd gone way out of his way  to help her. But something inside her told her he didn't want to take  credit for what he'd done. The question was why. What in Duncan's past  made him believe that being nice and kind and honorable was a bad thing?  Had someone hurt him? Maybe it was time to find out.

"I don't understand," Annie said as she put the key in the front door  lock and turned it. "He's a banker. He has lots of money. So why does he  care about yours?"

"Banks get money from other people and make profit off it," Duncan told  her. "Loaning it out, investing it. The bigger the accounts, the more  income for the bank."

"Okay," she said slowly, obviously not convinced.

They'd spent the past two hours at a boring cocktail party. In theory  the evening had been about networking, but it had become clear that  Duncan had been invited so a prominent banker could solicit his  business. Normally he didn't mind being courted-it could make for an  excellent deal. But tonight he hadn't been in the mood.

Instead he'd been watching the clock and checking his cell phone.

Annie shrugged out of her black wrap and dropped it on the sofa. She  bent over to remove her high heels, wincing as she pulled them off.

"They weren't kidding," she murmured, curling her toes into the carpet. "Beauty is pain."

Normally Duncan would have responded to the comment, but he was too busy  watching her dress gape open, exposing her full, pale breasts. The  curves looked big enough to fill his hands. Staring at them, he wondered  how the soft skin would taste. He imagined his tongue circling her  tight nipples, flicking them quickly as she writhed beneath him.

The image was vivid enough to cause blood to pool in his groin. He shifted uncomfortably.

Annie straightened, took a step and winced again. "I think the injury is  permanent. How do women wear those shoes every day? I couldn't stand  it." She pointed to the corner. "Isn't it beautiful?"

He glanced in that direction and saw the decorated Christmas tree by the  window. It filled the space and spilled into the room. Hundreds of  ornaments seemed to cover every inch of branch. Annie flipped on the  lights, which flicked on and off at a dizzying speed. It wasn't  something he would have liked and yet there was something special about  the tree.