High-Powered, Hot-Blooded(6)

"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?"