High-Powered, Hot-Blooded / Westmoreland's Way. Brenda Jackson
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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