Guardian Angel. Leanne Banks
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had its advantages. The absence of competitors allowed her to enjoy her brisk business without constantly looking over her shoulder.
On A Roll brought her a great deal of pride and pleasure. She’d worked hard for it. So had her brother, Kevin, in spite of his hurt and confusion over their mother’s death. In spite of what the Barringers had done to him. Her blood seethed just thinking about it, and she wondered how Trace could ooze integrity when his family was a bunch of vipers.
“Another donation to my ex-wife’s favorite charity—herself,” Trace muttered as he signed the check.
At least he knew it wouldn’t be long before Madelyn’s acting career took off. If ever a woman belonged on stage, it was she. Madelyn was the kind of woman who never got off the stage. She wasn’t honest. She wasn’t real.
An image of the intriguing lady who’d raced out of his office minutes before hovered in his mind. Talia McKenzie. Now she was real. She may have wanted to conceal her emotions, but her feelings showed in every move she made. A nervous self-conscious twisting of a tiny earring. A flash of fire in her dark eyes.
And she’d bit into her generous lower lip with small white teeth. Trace pulled off his glasses and wondered what had been going on in her mind.
She was a little hostile. A little challenging.
And a whole lot of temptation.
Leaning back in his leather chair, he tried to remember the last time a woman had really tempted him. He couldn’t.
He’d spent too many years trying to fix a marriage that had started out broken. He’d spent too many months trying to gain custody of his young son without an ugly court battle. And the family company had demanded every spare minute since his father’s heart attack the previous year.
He glanced at the signed check in front of him. It was only a matter of time before Madelyn gave him custody of Robby. She was weakening. She knew her life wasn’t stable enough for an active four-year-old. It was only a matter of time.
Perhaps he’d put his personal life and needs on hold long enough. Trace felt a very masculine stirring when he recalled the challenging sparkle in Talia’s eyes.
He savored it and grinned.
When he punched the button for his secretary, she picked up immediately. “Yes, Mr. Barringer?”
“Dusty, you should be receiving some correspondence concerning Lung Awareness Month from Talia McKenzie. Bring it to my attention when you get it.”
“You don’t want Public Relations handling this?” She sounded surprised.
That would be the practical thing to do. Barringer Corporation had a PR department for this kind of thing. And he really didn’t have time. Trace didn’t hesitate. “No, I’ll handle this myself.”
One week later Talia set the oven on preheat to bake the brownies she’d just mixed. The lights dimmed. “Oh, great,” she muttered, then watched with resigned futility as the lights went out in her small Cape Cod. Daylight Saving Time didn’t kick in until next week, so the house was covered in a veil of darkness. Turning, she groped through the kitchen drawer that held extra fuses.
Was that a knock at the front door? “Give me just a minute,” she called. It was probably one of the members of the Planning Committee arriving for their scheduled meeting that night.
She felt an assortment of pens, rubber cement, paper clips and coupons, but no fuses. Muttering to herself, she headed for her bedroom. She kept a few in her nightstand for emergencies.
Someone pounded on her front door again. “Hold your horses,” she yelled. It was probably Lou Adkins, the printer. The guy couldn’t stand waiting. Reaching into the bottom drawer of the nightstand, she stretched her fingers to the back and found a fuse. “Thank you, Lord.”
“Having problems?” a deep voice said behind her.
It wasn’t Lou.
Talia whirled around and just barely swallowed back the scream in her throat. A squeak came out in its place. Her heart beat wildly; her knees all but knocked together.
She stepped backward. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”
The man walked toward her and she gulped. Where was her flashlight? She could tell by his shadow that he was quite tall and broad-shouldered.
Strange how the brain functioned in moments of crisis. Her mind raced a million miles in a few seconds as she considered what man would enter her bedroom.
The only man who’d overtly attempted to woo her lately was Mick Ramsey from the auto parts store. The last time he’d come in for lunch, he had reeked of garlic. Upon his departure, he’d informed her, with nauseating suggestiveness, that the Chinese considered garlic an aphrodisiac. Talia figured he’d retrieved that scintillating bit of information purely by accident. Mick wasn’t the type to stretch his reading past the sports page or the back of a cereal box.
She sniffed suspiciously, but the faint scent she caught was an intriguing blend of woodsy aftershave and man. “Mick?”
The intruder reached for something on her nightstand. “No. But if that’s who you were expecting, I can pretend to change my name.” Amusement wove its way through his dark voice. “It’s Trace. Trace Barringer.” He turned on her flashlight. “Is this what you were looking for?”
Blinking, Talia reached for the flashlight and tried not to dwell on how her pulse had picked up when she’d heard his name. “Yes. How did you get in?”
“Your door was unlocked. I saw the lights go out and thought you might need some help.”
“Oh,” she mumbled, resolving to lock her door in the future. “The wiring in this house is ancient,” she said nervously as she made her way into the hall to turn off the air conditioner. “If I use the air conditioner and the oven at the same time, it often blows the fuse for the ground level of the house.”
“So replace the wiring,” Trace suggested.
“There’s this small matter of college tuition for my brother,” she answered before realizing that Trace Barringer wouldn’t understand the concept of having to choose carefully how to spend one’s money. She felt him prowling along behind her and tried to shove aside her discomfort at having him in her house. It would be easier to ignore a lion following her.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“For the planning meeting. There was a list of the meeting times on the memo Ms. Taylor sent me. With your busy schedule, this seemed the only way to meet with you.”
Darn. Talia had been so eager to be rid of anything relating to Trace Barringer, she’d asked another committee member to keep him informed. If Talia had sent him the information, she would have been careful to omit the meeting times.
Distracted by her thoughts, she stumbled over the edge of the hall carpet and pitched forward. “Oh!” Her knees hit the floor and pain shot through her legs. Before she had time to throw out her hands, Trace wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her up.
“Hey, what happened?” His voice was edged with husky concern.
Talia’s breath caught in her throat. She didn’t know which was worse, the pain in her knees or the sensation of Trace’s hard body pressed against her back. “I tripped over the carpet,” she finally said.
“Are you hurt?”
“Just my knees.”
“Let me see. Sit down.” He released her and retrieved the flashlight that had flown out of her hand.
“No. It’s not that bad, and it’s dark,” she protested. She was uncomfortable with the darkness and his nearness. She also wished she hadn’t given in to a fit of spring fever earlier and put on shorts.
He grabbed her hand and gave a gentle but firm tug. “I can