[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
mystery writer wannabe who asked for the name of your agent and a recommendation?"
"I quit," she said. "You're right. Everybody has problems."
"So does Mr. Rourke. If you get to know him, you might like him. And there's a fringe benefit"
"There is?"
"Sure. If you nab him, you can buy him a plastic appliance like the one your favorite alien wears and
make him over to suit you!"
The thought of Canton Rourke sitting still for that doubled her over with laughter. He'd more than
likely give her the appliance face first and tell her where she could go with it
"I don't really think that would be a good idea," she replied. "Think how his board of directors might
react!"
"I suppose so. We should go," he prompted, nodding toward the clock on the side table.
She grimaced. "All right. But I don't want to," she said firmly.
"You'll enjoy yourself," he promised her. "Nobody knows who you are."
She brightened. "I didn't think of that." "Now you can."
He opened the door for her with a flourish and they walked down the beach through the sand to the
Rourke's house. It was ablaze with light and soft music came wafting out the open door of the patio.
Several people holding glasses were talking. They all looked exquisitely dressed and Janine already
felt self-conscious about her own appearance.
Kurt, oblivious, darted up the steps to his friend Karie, wearing a cute little dress with a dropped
waistline and a short skirt that probably had cost more than Janine's summer wardrobe put together.
As she went up the steps, she paused to shake the sand out of her high heels, holding on to the banister
for support.
"Need a hand?" a familiar velvety voice asked. A long, lean arm went around her and supported her
while she fumbled nervously with her shoe, almost dropping it in the process.
"Here." He knelt and emptied the sand out of the shoe before he eased it back onto her small foot with
a sensuality that made her heart race.
He stood up slowly, his eyes meeting hers when they were on the same level, and holding as he rose
to his towering height. He didn't smile. For endless seconds, they simply looked at each other.
'This was Kurt's idea," she blurted breathlessly. "I didn't even have time to buy a new dress..."
"What's wrong with this one?" he asked. His lean hand traced the rounded neckline, barely touching
her skin, but she shivered at the contact.
"You, uh, seem to have quite a crowd," she faltered, moving a breath away from him.
"Right now, I wish they were all five hundred miles away," he said deeply, and with an inflection that
made her tingle.
She laughed nervously. "Is that a line? If it is, it's probably very effective, but I'm immune. I've got a
son and I've lived in a com..."
He held up a hand and chuckled. "Give it up," he advised. "Kurt is twelve and you're twenty-four. I
really doubt that you conceived at the age of eleven. As for the commune bit," he added, moving close
enough to threaten, "not in your wildest dreams, honey."
Honey. She recalled dumping a glass of milk on a pushy acquaintance who'd used that term in a
demean-ing way to her. This man made it sound like a verbal caress. Her toes curled.
"Please." Was that her voice, that thin tremulous tone?
His fingers touched her cheek gently
m
. "I' a new experience, is that it?"
She shivered. "You're a multimillionaire. I'm working for wages." Not quite th gh
e truth, but a good enou
comparison, she thought frantically.
He leaned closer with a smile that was fascinating. "I gave up seducing girls years ago. You're safe."
Her wide eyes met his. "Could I have that in writing, notarized, please?"
"If you like. But my word is usually considered equally binding," he replied. His hand fell and caught
hers. "As for the multimillionaire bit, that's past history. I'm just an ordinary guy working his way up
the corporate ladder right now. Come in and meet my guests."
His fingers were warm and strong and she felt a rush of emotion that burst like tangible joy inside
her.
What was happening to her? As if he sensed her confusion and uncertainty, his fingers linked into
hers and pressed reassuringly. Involuntarily her own returned the pressure.
As they gained the top
t
of he steps, a vivacious brunette about Janine's age came up to them with a champagne glass in her
hand. She beamed at Canton until she saw him holding hands with the other woman.
Her smile became catty.
"There you are, Canton. I don't believe I know your friend, do I?" she asked pointedly, glancing at
Janine.
"Probably not. Janine Curtis, this is Missy Elliger. She's the daughter of one of my oldest friends."
"You're not that old, darling," she drawled, moving closer to him. She glared at Janine. "Do you live
here?"
"Oh, no," Janine said pleasantly. "I live in a commune in California with several men."
The other woman gaped at her.
"Behave," Canton said shortly, increasing the pressure of his fingers. "This is Janine Curtis. She's [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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mystery writer wannabe who asked for the name of your agent and a recommendation?"
"I quit," she said. "You're right. Everybody has problems."
"So does Mr. Rourke. If you get to know him, you might like him. And there's a fringe benefit"
"There is?"
"Sure. If you nab him, you can buy him a plastic appliance like the one your favorite alien wears and
make him over to suit you!"
The thought of Canton Rourke sitting still for that doubled her over with laughter. He'd more than
likely give her the appliance face first and tell her where she could go with it
"I don't really think that would be a good idea," she replied. "Think how his board of directors might
react!"
"I suppose so. We should go," he prompted, nodding toward the clock on the side table.
She grimaced. "All right. But I don't want to," she said firmly.
"You'll enjoy yourself," he promised her. "Nobody knows who you are."
She brightened. "I didn't think of that." "Now you can."
He opened the door for her with a flourish and they walked down the beach through the sand to the
Rourke's house. It was ablaze with light and soft music came wafting out the open door of the patio.
Several people holding glasses were talking. They all looked exquisitely dressed and Janine already
felt self-conscious about her own appearance.
Kurt, oblivious, darted up the steps to his friend Karie, wearing a cute little dress with a dropped
waistline and a short skirt that probably had cost more than Janine's summer wardrobe put together.
As she went up the steps, she paused to shake the sand out of her high heels, holding on to the banister
for support.
"Need a hand?" a familiar velvety voice asked. A long, lean arm went around her and supported her
while she fumbled nervously with her shoe, almost dropping it in the process.
"Here." He knelt and emptied the sand out of the shoe before he eased it back onto her small foot with
a sensuality that made her heart race.
He stood up slowly, his eyes meeting hers when they were on the same level, and holding as he rose
to his towering height. He didn't smile. For endless seconds, they simply looked at each other.
'This was Kurt's idea," she blurted breathlessly. "I didn't even have time to buy a new dress..."
"What's wrong with this one?" he asked. His lean hand traced the rounded neckline, barely touching
her skin, but she shivered at the contact.
"You, uh, seem to have quite a crowd," she faltered, moving a breath away from him.
"Right now, I wish they were all five hundred miles away," he said deeply, and with an inflection that
made her tingle.
She laughed nervously. "Is that a line? If it is, it's probably very effective, but I'm immune. I've got a
son and I've lived in a com..."
He held up a hand and chuckled. "Give it up," he advised. "Kurt is twelve and you're twenty-four. I
really doubt that you conceived at the age of eleven. As for the commune bit," he added, moving close
enough to threaten, "not in your wildest dreams, honey."
Honey. She recalled dumping a glass of milk on a pushy acquaintance who'd used that term in a
demean-ing way to her. This man made it sound like a verbal caress. Her toes curled.
"Please." Was that her voice, that thin tremulous tone?
His fingers touched her cheek gently
m
. "I' a new experience, is that it?"
She shivered. "You're a multimillionaire. I'm working for wages." Not quite th gh
e truth, but a good enou
comparison, she thought frantically.
He leaned closer with a smile that was fascinating. "I gave up seducing girls years ago. You're safe."
Her wide eyes met his. "Could I have that in writing, notarized, please?"
"If you like. But my word is usually considered equally binding," he replied. His hand fell and caught
hers. "As for the multimillionaire bit, that's past history. I'm just an ordinary guy working his way up
the corporate ladder right now. Come in and meet my guests."
His fingers were warm and strong and she felt a rush of emotion that burst like tangible joy inside
her.
What was happening to her? As if he sensed her confusion and uncertainty, his fingers linked into
hers and pressed reassuringly. Involuntarily her own returned the pressure.
As they gained the top
t
of he steps, a vivacious brunette about Janine's age came up to them with a champagne glass in her
hand. She beamed at Canton until she saw him holding hands with the other woman.
Her smile became catty.
"There you are, Canton. I don't believe I know your friend, do I?" she asked pointedly, glancing at
Janine.
"Probably not. Janine Curtis, this is Missy Elliger. She's the daughter of one of my oldest friends."
"You're not that old, darling," she drawled, moving closer to him. She glared at Janine. "Do you live
here?"
"Oh, no," Janine said pleasantly. "I live in a commune in California with several men."
The other woman gaped at her.
"Behave," Canton said shortly, increasing the pressure of his fingers. "This is Janine Curtis. She's [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]