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“Let’s ask the guy if they have anything on sale,” he said.
She looked at him pityingly. “Trees don’t go on sale until a couple of days before Christmas.”
“How can you be sure? Maybe there’s a return or something.”
“No one returns a Christmas tree.”
He smiled. “And if you’re wrong?”
She sighed. “Fine. I’ll ask. But I’m telling you, there aren’t any returns or seconds in the Christmas-tree business.”
She looked around for the owner, then walked over to him. As Duncan watched, the man in the Santa T-shirt pointed to three different trees clustered together. Annie glanced at Duncan, then back at Santa guy.
“Seriously?” she was saying. “You have returns?”
“All the time. How high is your ceiling?”
“Eight feet.” She turned to the girls, who had joined her. “Did you hear that? These are only thirty dollars.”
They had a lengthy conversation about the merits of each tree. Finally one was chosen and put in the back of Duncan’s truck. Annie watched anxiously as he tied it down, then she took her seat in the cab.
She waited until he climbed in next to her before touching his arm. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I don’t know how much you paid him, and normally I wouldn’t have accepted the gift. But it’s Christmas and the girls love the tree. So thank you.”
He started to say it wasn’t him, then shrugged. “I need to get back to the office. You were taking too long, looking for a discount tree.”
Her blue gaze never wavered. “You’re not a bad guy. Why do you want people to think you are?”
“It’s not about nice, it’s about tough. Staying strong. That means making the hard decisions.”
It also meant depending only on himself—the one person he could trust to be there for him. She might think connecting was everything, but he knew better.
“You don’t have to be mean to be strong,” she said.
“Sometimes you do,” he told her and started the engine.
Annie had never paid attention to magazine articles on relaxation. Her life was busy—she didn’t have time to become one with the moment. On her best day, she was only slightly behind. One her worst day, her to-do list stretched for miles. But now, as she sat in the elegant beachfront restaurant with Duncan’s business associates and stared at the nine pieces of flatware around her place setting—most of which were totally foreign to her—she wished she’d at least read the paragraphs on how to breathe through panic.
She knew enough to start from outside and work her way in. There was also a fairly good chance that the horizontal three pieces above the decorative plate were for dessert. Or maybe dessert and cheese, and possibly coffee. The weird little fork could be for shrimp or even fish and the steak knife was clear, but what were the other three for?
Even more intimidating was the menu. While it was in English, there weren’t any prices. Did that mean everything was priced à la carte? Or was there some jumbo total given out at the end of the meal? It wasn’t that she was so worried about the price. Even the cost of a bowl of soup would probably make her faint. But she didn’t want to order the most expensive thing on the menu by mistake.
She scanned the offerings again. There was a lobster tail, a market-price fish and Kobe beef. She was pretty sure if she avoided those, she would be fine. Her gaze lingered over the pasta dishes. Two of them were homemade ravioli. The twins would love that, she thought.
“You all right?” Duncan asked, leaning close. “You’re looking tense about something.”
“We couldn’t have gone to a diner? Maybe ordered a burger?” she whispered, making him laugh.
The low chuckle seemed to move through her, making her aware of how close they sat and how great he looked in his dark suit. Duncan might be the meanest CEO two years running, but he sure could wear clothes.
“It’s business,” he told her. “This place is quiet.”
“So is my McDonald’s, anytime after eight.”
One of the three waiters serving the table appeared at her elbow. “May I get you a cocktail?” he asked.
She hesitated, not sure what the best—make that appropriate—drink would be. Or should she wait for wine?
“Ever had a cosmopolitan?” Duncan asked.
“Like in Sex in the City? No, but I’d love to try one. Are they really pink?”
“Unfortunately,” Duncan told her, then ordered Scotch for himself.
An older man sat down on the other side of Annie. She smiled at him as Duncan introduced him with the fact that Will Preston was the largest plumbing supply distributor on the West Coast.
“Nice to meet you,” the man said as he sat down. “Do you work?”
“I’m a kindergarten teacher.”
Will leaned toward her. “Then maybe you can answer a question for me. My wife loves to have the grandkids stay the night with us and they always want me to read them a story. It’s not that I mind doing that, but they want the same story over and over again. I read it to them and they want to hear it again. Why is that?”
“Their brains aren’t as developed as yours,” she said. “They don’t have the lifetime of experiences to draw on. So everything is new, all the time. A bedtime story offers the comfort of the familiar and they like that. They feel connected by the repetition, plus they probably hear something new every time. I would guess they also like having you read it to them, as well. Your voice, the way you pronounce the words, all become associated with time with you. You’re making memories.”
He frowned. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.” The frowned cleared. “Thank you, Annie. That makes me want to read to them more.”
“I hope you will. Because thirty years from now, when they’re reading to their children, they’ll remember this time. It will always be something you’ve shared.”
“Do you know what you want?” Duncan asked, reclaiming her attention.
She glanced at the menu. “I was thinking the twins would have enjoyed doggie bags from here.”
She was about to say more when she caught Duncan’s startled expression. Maybe talking about taking food home to her family wasn’t a good thing, she thought, suddenly uncomfortable. She closed her menu and pressed her lips together.
“Annie here has some real insights into my grandkids,” Will was telling the man across from him.
The man looked bored, although he nodded. Annie shifted in her seat.
Although she was dressed in one of the pretty cocktail dresses Cameron had picked out for her, she felt out of place. Everyone at the table was older and seemed to know each other. The women were laughing and talking with a casual ease that made her want to slowly back out of the room. Anywhere but here, she thought. What if she failed? What if Duncan decided she wasn’t doing a good job? Would he change his mind about their deal? Would Tim be pulled out of rehab and sent to jail?
Stop it, she told herself. So what if everyone in this room had some impressive job and knew what all the forks were for? She was smart. She had a career she loved and she knew she made a difference. Duncan Patrick needed her to make himself look good. If anyone should be worried about the deal being changed, it was him, not her. He was lucky to have her.
“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.
Chapter 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.”
