WHAT ARE FRIENDS FOR?

by Naomi Horton

  Beautiful. Naked.

  Damn.

  The big bedroom was flooded with moonlight, and he turned his head to look at the window, thinking he should get up and pull the drapes closed. He could see the rounded flank of Wolf Mountain rising against the pale, star-speckled sky, and he lay staring at it, wishing he knew what the hell was wrong with him.

  He'd thought at first that it was just those divorce blues Andie had teased him about. Them, and a bad case of lust.

  But he was starting to wonder. Maybe the problem wasn't that simple. Maybe the problem was him.

  And then there was Marc Beck.

  In spite of himself, Conn felt his hands curl into fists. Now there was a major problem in the making.

  Desmond Beck and his son and a couple of Becktron bean counters had flown in sometime that afternoon, and it had taken Conn all of five seconds to recognize he was going to have trouble.

  Not with the Becktron buy-out – Desmond had come up here wanting to sell. All they had to do was hammer out the details.

  No, the trouble was going to be with Marc.

  He'd stepped off that damned helicopter like a hero coming home from the war, hair flying in the wind, teeth glinting in an easy grin. Spotting Andie, he'd come striding across the helipad toward her. And then—

  Conn gritted his teeth. Then the bastard had kissed her.

  Kissed her. Right on the mouth. Right there, in front of everyone. And Andie, damn it, hadn't even seemed to mind.

  In fact, Conn thought sourly, no one had seemed to pay much attention to it except him. Was he the only person up here Beck hadn't conned? The only person who could see what was going on?

  And if it wasn't bad enough he had to worry about Beck single-handedly, now he had to contend with his own unruly libido.

  He'd been lying here for hours in the dark, thinking about her. Thinking about her lying in bed. Thinking about her lying in bed naked. Thinking about what it would be like to go in there and slip between the sheets with her and draw her against him and—

  Conn groaned out loud and sat up, rubbing his stubbled face with his hands. This had to stop. He was a grown man, for crying out loud, not a randy teenager. And Andie, hell, Andie wasn't that kind of woman. Andie was … Andie.

  Unsettled and wide-awake now, he got up and walked into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. He thought a cold shower probably wouldn't have been a bad idea, either.

  He wandered back through the bedroom and stood at the French doors opening out onto the big deck. He'd left one of them slightly ajar and he pushed it open and walked outside, the cold mountain air caressing his naked skin more sensually than he'd have thought possible.

  The icy night air should have cooled him off in more ways than one, but standing there naked in the moonlight seemed to have the opposite effect and he felt himself becoming even more aroused. Teeth gritted, he prowled the deck, as restless as a cat, pausing in the deep shadows on the far side for a moment. He found himself looking at the five-foot gap between his deck and Andie's. The double French doors leading into her bedroom stood half open and he fantasized for a split second about—

  She appeared in the doorway as suddenly as a ghost and Conn froze, thinking for one insane instant that she'd sensed him there, wanting her, had come out to—

  No. Easing his breath out, he stepped even deeper into the shadows. She hadn't seen him. Didn't know he was out here. Had just gotten up to close the drapes against the moonlight and had paused to gaze out at the mountains. Naked. God, she was naked.

  Swallowing, Conn tried to tear his gaze from her, knowing it wasn't right to watch her like this. Hating himself when he couldn't look away, couldn't do anything but stand there, unseen, drinking in the sight of her like a dying man.

  She stood there, one knee bent slightly, her left arm still raised. Her breasts were full and taut, the dark nipples taunting him with a flood of erotic memories from twelve years ago. Moonlight spilled down her shoulder and flank, along the curve of one hip and thigh, leaving tantalizing shadows in its wake that made his mouth go dry.

  Another flood of memories assailed him. Textures. The heated silk of her, the erotic, musky scent of sex, the taste of her. Sounds … the rapid whisper of her breath against his throat as he loved her, the sound of his own breathing, fast and deep, the tiny, breath-caught moans, the way she'd finally just let go of her self-consciousness and had reached toward him with her body, moving with desperate urgency, legs tangling around his, urging him deeper, faster, harder…

  And then, suddenly, she moved. She reached up languidly and, before he could even groan a denial, had pulled the draperies closed.

  * * *

  Andie was humming to herself when she walked into the dining room the next morning. With only about fifteen people needing service, the lodge staff had closed off most of the room, using only the far end where a wall of windows overlooked a breathtaking panorama of lake and mountains and cloud-tousled sky. The morning sun was pouring in, making the pine floors and walls glow like butter, and a refreshing breeze was meandering through a couple of open windows, carrying the scent of pine.

  Some of Beck's people were seated at a round table by the nearest window and they glanced up at her, obviously torn between asking her to sit down out of politeness, and not wanting the competition in on their conversation. Smiling, she simply lifted her hand and called out a cheerful greeting, then gazed around as though looking for someone.

  To her relief, Conn was there, sitting by himself at a spacious table, half-hidden from the others by an exuberant clump of tropical greenery. She walked over, smiling. "Hi. Want some company?"

  He looked up and Andie stared at him in astonishment.

  "What on earth happened to you? You look like hell!"

  "Didn't get much sleep last night," he growled.

  "Really? I slept like a log." She sat down in the chair on the other side of the table. "I told you all that coffee was a bad idea. If we work late tonight, I'll make you some herbal tea."

  "Perfumed dishwater," he muttered ungraciously, fastening his slightly bleary eyes on her. "How come you're so damn full of energy this morning?"

  She shrugged, catching the eye of the waiter hovering discreetly behind the palms. "All this mountain air, probably. Marc and I walked up to Wolf Ridge this morning, and—"

  "Walked?" His eye narrowed. "You and Marc? Walked?"

  Andie looked at Conn. "Yes, Connor. We walked. It's quite simple – you just put one foot down in front of the other and pretty soon you're doing it. And frankly, you look as though you could use a good, stiff walk yourself this morning."

  "A good, stiff drink maybe."

  Andie eyed him carefully. "Are you hung over?"

  "From twenty cups of coffee?"

  "I just thought you might have spent part of last night toasting Judith goodbye again."

  He managed a rough smile. "Trust me, one hangover per ex-wife is my limit."

  The waiter appeared from seemingly nowhere, handing Andie a menu, filling her coffee cup, fussing with the cutlery. She handed the menu back without even opening it. "I'll just have coffee, orange juice and an English muffin, thanks."

  "That's not going to keep you going all morning," Conn said as the waiter vanished as silently as he'd appeared.

  Andie paused very slightly. There was no reason for her not to tell him. Except that every time she mentioned Marc Beck's name, Conn got weird. "I … umm … had breakfast with Marc this morning."

  Conn had lifted his glass of orange juice and was looking at her over the rim. "Breakfast." He took a swallow of juice. "In his room."

  He said it blandly enough, but Andie heard the tightness in his voice. "In his suite," she replied calmly, pouring cream into her coffee and stirring it. "Do you have a problem with that?"

  "I don't have a problem with that."

  "You don't."

  "Nope. Why should I?" He took another long swallow of juice. "I can see where André what's his nam
e might, but not me."

  "Alain," she said testily. "His name is Alain!" The waiter appeared just then. He set a tall, frosted glass of orange juice in front of her; then, with a subdued flourish, added a royal blue-and-gold china plate with two perfectly toasted English muffins on it, followed by two small silver serving dishes, one with whipped butter, the other with a thick marmalade the color of melted gold. He fussed with the centerpiece of daisies and sweet william for a moment, then left.

  "Did you and Marc have a good walk?"

  There it was again! The question itself was innocent enough, but there was something not-so-innocent under the words, and it made Andie's eyes narrow. "What is your problem, Connor?"

  "Me?" He shrugged, looking as though he hadn't a clue what she was talking about. "I don't have a problem."

  "Like hell you don't," Andie said with precision. "You've been on his case ever since you met him."

  "He's just a little too slick for my liking, that's all."

  "You think he's going to make trouble during negotiations with his father?" She thought about it, wondering what Conn saw that she hadn't. He hadn't gotten this far on good looks and charm alone; Conn Devlin had a mind for business like a bear trap, and an instinct about people to match.

  "He's just along for the ride," Conn said dismissively. "Desmond holds all the cards – and power – at Becktron."

  Andie didn't say anything, simply looking at him, waiting.

  "I don't like the way he looks at you," Conn growled after a moment. "I don't like the way he's always touching you. And sure as hell don't like the way he was all over you yesterday at the helipad."

  "Excuse me?" Andie gave a burst of laughter. "All over me? He shook my hand and gave me a peck on the cheek, and—"

  "Mouth," Conn said shortly. "He kissed you on the mouth. And it sure as hell was no peck. I know a peck when I see it. That was no peck."

  Andie rolled her eyes. "Give me a break! All right, so he kissed me. On the mouth. I admit it. Bring on the firing squad!"

  Conn's eyes glittered slightly. "You like him, don't you?"

  "More than I like you, right at this moment," Andie told him irritably. "You're doing it again, Connor. I told you not to do this anymore."

  "Do what?"

  "Meddle." She said the word loudly enough to make a couple of Beck's people look around in surprise. Biting back her impatience, she picked up a piece of muffin and slathered it with marmalade. "I don't meddle in your love life, Connor."

  "Does the name Olivia Woodruff ring a hell?" he asked pleasantly enough.

  "I wasn't meddling, I was giving you my opinion. You meddle."

  "When have I ever meddled?" He sounded almost indignant. "Sure, I've given you advice now and again when I see you making a mistake. And maybe I've made a suggestion or two, but—"

  Andie put the knife down with a bang. "A suggestion or two? I haven't dated a man in my entire life that you've approved of. They're too young, too old, too rich, not rich enough, they work too much, they're worthless layabouts. My God, you even had one of them investigated!"

  "The man was wanted for tax evasion and fraud," Conn said between gritted teeth. "And what about that other loser you dated a few years ago? If I hadn't done a background check on the guy, you'd never have discovered he had a wife and two kids in Arizona until it was too late." His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "It wasn't too late, was it?"

  "I was twenty-seven years old, for God's sake!"

  "You mean it was too late?" His shoulders seemed to swell.

  "No," Andie said tightly, "it was not too late. The fact you kept me working until midnight every single night he was in town had something to do with that, of course."

  Conn looked pleased with himself. "See? I wasn't meddling, I was just looking out for you."

  "You were meddling," Andie said darkly. "Alain happened to mention that someone's been asking around about him, too. There's even evidence that someone's running a financial check on him. But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

  She watched him struggle with it, torn between lying to her and putting himself in the line of fire. Finally he just shrugged and took a swallow of coffee, avoiding her eyes. "You can't be too careful about people these days."

  "You stink."

  It made him laugh. "Hey, what are good friends for?"

  Andie swore she wasn't going to laugh. That she wasn't going to let him get away with this sort of behavior any longer. But in spite of her best intentions, she wound up grinning. "I don't know why I put up with you, Devlin."

  He kissed the end of his finger, then reached across and planted it on her mouth. "Because you love me, darlin'. Why else?"

  "You hope." She turned her head away as though angry and she concentrated on putting marmalade on another piece of muffin, not wanting him to see her eyes.

  Someone stopped beside their table and she glanced up.

  Marc Beck grinned down at her. "Hi, again."

  Andie smiled. "Well, hi. Have a cup of coffee with us."

  Marc glanced at Conn. "Well…"

  "Oh, come on," Andie urged him, gesturing to the chair beside her. "Conn certainly doesn't mind. Do you, Connor?"

  She smiled sweetly at him; Conn's eyes glittered. "No. I don't mind at all. Please join us, Marc. I'd like that."

  Andie gave Conn a look of warning, seeing something in his benign smile that she didn't like at all.

  Marc grinned again and dropped into the chair. "Great idea, coming up here. We may get this deal with you hammered out yet, Devlin."

  "One way or the other." Conn gave him a sleepy smile.

  Marc glanced at Andie, obviously picking up some vibration of trouble ahead but uncertain of what was going on. "I, uh… My father says the two of you set up the first meeting this morning for about nine."

  "If you can fit it in," Conn said agreeably. "Andie tells me you like to walk."

  Mark nodded carefully. "Yeah, I like to get out and loosen up a bit. I run, actually. At home I put in about ten miles a day. How about you?"

  Another pleasant smile. "I sail a bit. Play tennis. Squash."

  "And killer handball," Andie put in. "Don't let him challenge you to a game – he plays for blood."

  "Don't be a spoilsport, Andie," Conn said lazily. "Let him decide for himself. How about it, Beck? Up for a friendly little game?"

  Andie saw Marc's eyes narrow slightly. "I think I'll pass, but thanks. Maybe some other time."

  "Just say when." Conn took a swallow of coffee, leaning back in his chair and looking at Marc with deceptive friendliness. "So, tell me. Have you met Alain DeRocher yet?"

  Andie's breath hissed and she stared at Conn disbelievingly.

  Marc frowned, shaking his head. "No. No, I don't think I have. Is he with your company?"

  "DeRocher?" Conn laughed. "Hell, no. He's Andie's fiancé."

  "Fiancé?" Marc's head came up and he stared at her in surprise. "You're engaged, Andie? You never mentioned that."

  "I am not engaged," Andie said through clenched teeth, giving Conn a look that should have melted steel plate but seemed to have no effect whatsoever on him. "Mr. Devlin is – as usual – quite mistaken."

  "I thought you said Alain asked you to marry him," Conn said with just the right amount of apologetic surprise in his voice. "Hey, Andie, I'm sorry if I—"

  "Look, I, uh, have some things to do before our meeting this morning. I think I'll pass on that coffee." Marc pushed his chair back, his face dark with anger. "I'll see you both later."

  "Count on it," Conn said gently.

  Andie watched Marc walk away, then turned on Conn furiously. "Of all the low-down, underhanded, rotten things to do!"

  "What?" He gazed back at her, his expression of hurt innocence almost perfect.

  "Don't what me, mister," she growled, pushing away from the table and standing up. "I don't know what you're playing at, but I want you to stop it – and I mean now! My life is none of your concern, Connor. So butt out, or
I swear I will marry Alain and move to Quebec City and you can just find yourself another admin. And another best friend!"

  Too far, Conn thought disconsolately as he watched Andie stalk across the dining room. He'd gone too far this time.

  Swearing under his breath, he finished the rest of his coffee and shoved his chair back, getting to his feet. He was pushing Marc Beck too damn far, too, come to think of it. This deal wasn't in the bag yet, and if he couldn't control whatever was bugging him, he was going to blow it big-time.

  He thought about it as he headed for the door. If he didn't know better, he'd swear it felt like jealousy. Except that didn't make any sense. Why would he be jealous of the men in Andie's life? He wanted her to be happy, didn't he?

  Thinking about it just confused him even more. Divorce blues, that's what it was. He'd be back to normal in a week or two. Except if he didn't wise up, he was going to lose Andie before those couple of weeks were up.

  * * *

  Meetings. Three that day. They cleared up the question of pension benefits for those employees who would transfer from Becktron to Devlin Electronics. They settled on a severance package for those who wouldn't.

  It was amazing what twelve people could accomplish with few distractions and a clear focus on the objective, Andie thought with satisfaction as she walked along the wide corridor to her suite. Another day or two like this and they'd have the Becktron sale in the bag and could all go home.

  Although she was starting to like it up here. A lot. Smiling, she rubbed her damp hair with the towel. She'd just spent the hour with Margie, Bill Miller, Frank Czarnecki, Marc Beck and a couple of his people, going over the finer details of an addendum to the buy-out contract itself.

  But not around a conference table. They'd all wound up – more by accident than design – in the giant hot tub that sat in its own cedar-and-pine gazebo in a grove of tall trees behind the lodge. It had been raining lightly but none of them had minded, relaxed and laughing and wreathed in pine-scented steam.

  She didn't know where Conn was. He and Desmond Beck had spent most of the day and early evening sequestered in one of the luxury cabins down by the lake, working out heaven knew what. Which probably meant she'd be up half the night with Conn, going over tomorrow's strategy, depending on how things went.