High-Powered, Hot-Blooded / Westmoreland's Way: High-Powered, Hot-Blooded / Westmoreland's Way. Brenda Jackson
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conversation.
“What is this, the Inquisition?” Annie joked, warmed by her cousins’ protective questions but trying to lighten the mood. She might not have a husband and a baby, but she still had a family. She had to remember that.
“They have bright futures in the law.”
“I’m not going to be a lawyer,” Jenny said. “But I am watching out for Annie. We all are.”
Duncan did his best to look attentive rather than incredulous. Were these two college girls going to threaten him? They had neither the money nor the resources, and if it came to a battle of wills, he would leave them coughing in the dust.
None of which he said to them.
“I don’t need that much defending,” Annie said, looking uncomfortable. “Duncan, I’m sorry. I didn’t know the twins were going to gang up on you this much.”
“But a little would have been okay?”
“Sure.”
He turned to the cousins. “Annie and I have a business arrangement. She’ll be fine.”
“You have to promise,” one of the twins said. Duncan couldn’t tell them apart.
“You have my word on it.” Even if he and Annie didn’t have an agreement, she wouldn’t be at much risk. He didn’t get involved enough for anyone to get their feelings hurt. Life was easier that way.
They went into the lot. The girls fanned out to look at trees, but Annie stayed by him.
“I’m sorry if they offended you,” she began.
“Don’t be. I respect them for thinking they can take me.”
She tilted her head. Blond curls tumbled to her shoulder. “No, you don’t,” she said slowly. “You think they’re foolish.”
“That, too.”
“It’s a family thing. We’re a team. Like you and your uncle.”
He and Lawrence were many things, but a team wasn’t one of them. Duncan nodded because it was easier than having to explain. He watched Annie turn her attention to the rows of cut trees.
The air was thick with the smell of pine. There were a few shoppers talking over the sound of Christmas carols.
As Annie moved from tree to tree, he scanned the lot until he found the girls checking the price tag on a tree. Kami shook her head. The twins looked frustrated before moving to another tree. He turned back to Annie, who was gazing longingly at a tree that had to be fifteen feet, easy.
“You have eight-foot ceilings,” he said, coming up behind her. “Learn from your past mistakes.”
“Meaning we shouldn’t buy something that won’t fit.” She sighed. “But it’s beautiful.” She glanced at the price tag. It was eighty-five dollars. “Maybe not.”
“How much did you want to spend?” he asked.
“Under forty dollars. Less would be better. This is a family lot. They bring in the trees themselves. They cost a little more, but they’re really fresh and it’s kind of a tradition to come here.”
“You’re big on tradition, aren’t you?”
“Uh-huh. The rhythm of life, year after year. It’s fun.”
He felt like Scrooge. The only thing he did year after year was count his money.
She stopped in front of another tree, then glanced at him. “Not too tall?”
“It looks like a great height.”
She fingered the tag. It was sixty-five dollars. When she hesitated, he wanted to ask if twenty-five dollars really made that much difference. But he knew it did or Annie—the spokesperson for the wonders of Christmas—would cough up the money.
Duncan excused himself and found the owner of the lot. After a quiet conversation and the exchange of money, Duncan returned to Annie’s side.
“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