by Naomi Horton
Andie smiled again as she unlocked the door to her suite. Good thing he hadn't come along and found her in the hot tub with Marc Beck, or God knows what he'd have done this time. The thought had obviously occurred to Marc, too; he'd spent more time looking over his shoulder than working on the contract.
She locked the door behind her and wandered through the small kitchen, tossing her keys on the counter. Thinking about Marc Beck. He was interested, no doubt of that. And interesting.
Even more interesting was the fact she was thinking of him this way at all. If any man should be taking up her thoughts these days, it should be Alain DeRocher.
Sighing, Andie walked into the bedroom. Slipping out of the thick terry robe, she tossed it onto the bed and headed for the bathroom, already starting to peel herself out of the wet bathing suit.
Alain. She was going to have to make up her mind about that. Marrying him would fulfill her dreams: a warm and generous relationship with a man who cherished her, a home, children. Dreams she'd once hoped to share with Connor. The only thing that would be missing was the love.
And maybe, she found herself thinking dispassionately as she pulled open the glass door to the huge shower, she was just going to have to learn to live without that.
* * *
Tired. God, he was tired!
Conn rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged his shoulders, trying to work the knots free. He and Desmond had been at it all day, and he was worn-out and stiff.
He closed the door to his suite behind him and walked across to the small bar, pulling the fridge open. There were plenty of ice cubes. He tossed a handful into a glass and added a healthy shot of whiskey; then, carrying it in one hand and unbuttoning his shirt with the other, he headed for the bathroom.
Taking his drink right into the shower with him, he sipped it slowly while letting the hot water pound down on his back and shoulders, loosening taut muscles, working the tension free. Another few days of this and Devlin Electronics was going to be the big boy on the block, fulfilling every dream he'd ever had.
Or almost every dream. There were still one or two missing.
Idly, probing the memory as he might a sore tooth, he thought of Judith. And Liza. It had been years since he'd last spoken with her. They'd parted amicably enough, all considered, and had stayed in touch for a while. Then they'd both gotten busy with their respective lives and had drifted apart, she with her new husband and – last he'd heard – their three kids, him with Devlin Electronics.
Parting company with Judith had been less amicable. They'd each married the other with certain expectations in mind, and then had felt betrayed when those expectations hadn't been met. He'd wanted to kick back and enjoy life, raise a family, travel, have a little fun. Judith had had entirely different ideas.
He took another swallow of whiskey, wincing a little. Funny, how things worked out. He'd been on the cover of Time magazine twice, had been profiled in every major business magazine and paper in the country, had a net worth – even before the Becktron deal – of well into nine figures.
Yet, for all his financial success, his wizardry at not just recognizing the cutting edge of the industry but getting there first, he still couldn't seem to pick the right woman. Or make a marriage work.
Andie. Too bad he couldn't marry her. They got along great, she loved Devlin Electronics as much as he did, she knew him better than anyone, including his two ex-wives. Hell, they probably had a better chance than most people he knew to carve out a little happiness.
Then he smiled grimly and finished the whiskey in one long swallow. Until it fell apart, of course, and he lost his best friend in the world. And it would fall apart. It always did.
He shampooed his hair quickly, then turned off the water, toweled himself dry and pulled on a pair of ragged cutoffs and his old college sweatshirt. It was faded now and ripped a little here and there, but still wearable: a good-luck charm that had never let him down.
He had to grin suddenly, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Hell, maybe that was the answer. Maybe instead of a tux, he should wear it to his next wedding.
Not that the thought of a next wedding was exactly a cheerful thought. In fact, the prospect of getting married again was about as pleasant as the prospect of having dental surgery.
He stuck his head through the connecting door into Andie's suite and called her name. There was no answer, and he frowned. It was after nine, damn it – where was she?
Unbidden, Marc Beck's grinning face flickered through his mind. His frown deepened and he pushed the door all the way open and walked in, instinctively looking around for any sign that Beck had been there.
Or was still there, Conn thought grimly, glancing at the half-open bedroom door.
He shook off the thought before it was even fully formed, telling himself he was losing it. Beck wasn't Andie's type, for one thing. And she'd never get involved with him while he and Beck's father were in the middle of negotiations.
And afterward? Hell, afterward, she had that damned Frenchman to deal with.
That thought made him frown even more as he walked across to the kitchen counter where they'd set up the fax machine and started looking through the incoming messages. All of a sudden she had men coming at her from every direction.
Sure, she'd always had a boyfriend or two hovering in the background – and why not, she was gorgeous. Although that hadn't really registered until just lately, either. But she'd never seemed to get very serious about any of them.
But now there was this DeRocher guy talking marriage and Andie talking weddings and kids and it was just getting out of hand, damn it.
Idly, he thought of calling DeRocher and telling him to back off. But odds were pretty good that Andie would find out – she always seemed to find out – and there would be some serious hell to pay.
So the best thing was probably just to stay out of it and wait for it to run its course. She didn't love the guy – that was pretty obvious. So Conn would just wait for her to realize that and unload DeRocher. Things would be back the way they should be – just the two of them against the world – and he could quit worrying.
It made him laugh out loud as he looked through the papers on the counter for the report Frank Czarnecki had put together on the estimated worth of Becktron's patents. That's how he felt some days – he and Andie against the world.
The report wasn't there and he glanced around the living room for Andie's briefcase. Frowning, he walked across and knocked on the bedroom door. Still no answer, although he could hear the shower running. He could see her briefcase, lying open on the bed surrounded by piles of loose paper, and he walked across to it.
He smiled a little as he caught a waft of her perfume on the air, hints of sandalwood and exotic oils and some underlying fragrance that always made him think of long hot nights, rumpled sheets and sex. It was subtle and faint, but effective as hell. And she didn't wear it half often enough, in his estimation.
Probably just as well, he decided as he started leafing through the pile of scattered papers on the bed. It would be mighty distracting to have her smelling that good all the time.
He didn't find the report, but he did find something else that intrigued him even more. A nightie. A pale apricot thing sheer enough to make him swallow hard, and he picked it up, running the cobwebby fabric though his fingers.
It disconcerted him, although he couldn't quite figure out why. Probably because he'd never given much thought to what Andie wore to bed. Had never given much thought to her in bed … except lately. Lately he seemed to be thinking about it a lot.
And this nightie? He frowned, holding it up to get a better look at it. This wasn't the kind of thing a woman wore to bed when she was alone, planning to do nothing more exciting than read a book or watch a late-night talk show. For that matter, it didn't look like the kind of thing Andie would buy for herself. Unless—
DeRocher. Question was, had he bought it for Andie in anticipation, or had she bought it
herself for the same reason?
A better question might be, why did he think it was any of his business?
Swearing at himself, Conn tucked the nightie back under the scattered papers and hauled his mind back to the problem of the Becktron patents. He found Czarnecki's report just as the shower went off and he glanced at the half-open bathroom door a little guiltily. He could see the big mirror above the vanity and in it, Andie's reflection as she stepped out of the shower, wet and very naked.
Her reflection was nothing but a blur of tanned curves on the steamy mirror, but he swore and wrenched his gaze away and walked back into the living room, thinking that the quicker they all got back to the city, the better it was going to be for everyone concerned.
Rubbing her wet hair with a towel, Andie was still thinking about Alain as she walked out of the bedroom and down the short corridor to the living room and kitchen. It took her a moment to even realize Conn was there, sprawled across the overstuffed sofa in front of the fireplace as though he belonged there, frowning over a handful of papers.
He looked up, brows tugged together. "Is Czarnecki sure about these figures?"
Clad only in her terry robe and a layer of body oil, Andie hesitated, then walked through to the kitchen area. "Come on in, Connor. Make yourself at home. Tea?"
He looked at her for a blank moment, then winced. "Sorry. I did knock, but you didn't hear me. And yeah, tea's fine – but only if it's the real stuff and not those weeds and berries you're always brewing up."
"Real stuff." She smiled slightly and popped a couple of bags of an herbal blend into the china teapot she'd found in one of the cupboards. "Frank's sure about those figures. If anything, they're on the conservative side."
Conn looked back down at the sheet of paper he was holding and gave a low whistle.
"How did your meeting with Desmond go today?"
"Good." A slow smile tipped his strong mouth up on one side. "Better than good. What about you?"
"I spent most of the day going over their inventory. Talk about a nightmare!"
"Can you get a handle on it?"
"I'll get a handle on it."
Conn's grin widened. "You're not really going to marry old DeRocher and leave all this, are you?"
The kettle whistled and Andie turned the heat off, then poured boiling water into the teapot. "So make me an offer I can't refuse," she said lightly. "I haven't said yes to Alain yet." Smiling mischievously, she set the pot of tea, two cups and spoons and a bowl of honey on a tray and carried them across to the sofa. "Maybe I'll marry Marc Beck instead. He seems quite interested."
"Too damned interested," Conn growled as she set the tray on the end table beside him. "What's all this talk lately about getting married, anyway?"
"You're the one who brought it up."
"So then I'm the one who's telling you to forget it. Marriage isn't all it's cracked up to be." Conn reached across and tossed the papers he was holding onto the floor. "In fact, it isn't anything it's cracked up to be."
"Conn…" Andie sat down on the edge of the sofa beside him, reaching down to smooth a tangle of dark hair off his forehead. "Don't be too hard on yourself over this. You made a couple of bad choices, that's all. The next time will probably be everything you've ever dreamed it would be."
"The next time?" He smiled dryly, then slipped both arms loosely around her waist and pulled her down across his chest. "Darlin', who the hell says there's going to be a next time?"
* * *
Chapter 6
« ^ »
Andie went still with surprise, hardly daring to breathe. Conn cradled her against him as though it was the most natural thing in the world to do, his breath stirring her hair slightly, arms folded around her comfortably. And then, after a moment or two, she realized he probably wasn't even aware of what he was doing.
She was his best friend and he needed the touch of another person, so what more normal thing to do than reach for her?
Telling herself it couldn't hurt, she relaxed against his broad chest, breathing in the warm, familiar scent of him, feeling his body heat soak through the terry robe right to her soul. His heartbeat was solid and slow and regular beneath her and she closed her eyes, knowing it wasn't right to even pretend for these few minutes that he really cared. That this casual embrace was anything more than a need for comfort, and she was there for any reason other than mere convenience.
"You know what I was thinking?" he said after a minute or two, his voice just a rumble.
"I'm afraid to ask." He was rubbing her back absently, and Andie slipped her arm around him.
"I was thinking that when this Becktron deal is finished, we should take a week off and sail up the coast. Remember when we were in college and always talked about doing that? We never did make it."
"You were practically married to Billy Soames," she reminded him. "You guys spent every minute together, working on your computer design. Then there was Charlotte, and Anne, and Veronica, and—"
"Okay, okay," he said with a chuckle, "I get the point. But you didn't have a lot of time, either, with all those guys hanging around you. I remember Adam – he always looked like he'd just stepped out of The Great Gatsby. And Rod, the biker. And—"
"Rod was not a biker," she protested, laughing. "That old Triumph he rode was a family heirloom, practically."
"Uh-huh. There was that other guy, the athletic major with more muscles than brains who tried to kill me that night in Dooby's Pub."
"Richard Reece, and you started it by telling – who was that girl you were with that night, the one with the huge breasts?"
"Ashleigh," he said dryly. "And contrary to your opinion on the matter, they were real."
"I'm sure," she replied just as dryly. "And I don't blame Richard for getting mad. You kept telling Ashleigh that there was a direct link between pumping iron and brain damage."
"He had an equally high opinion of engineering students. What did he call Billy? A pencil-necked geek."
"Billy was a pencil-necked geek," Andie reminded him gently. "He was sweet and nice, but let's face it – he'd wear the same shirt for weeks on end, his hair always looked like it had been chewed by rats and he lived on pizza and soft drinks, to the detriment of both complexion and breath. I always liked Billy a lot, but he was in another world half the time."
"Well, that pencil-necked geek's been married to the same woman for ten years and has four kids, so I guess he had something going for him besides an IQ that's off the scale."
"He married that tiny little chemistry major, didn't he? Corinne. She absolutely adored him even back then."
"I was thinking about Billy today. He'd go nuts if he could see some of the work Beck's research people are into. They branched out into virtual reality and artificial intelligence even before we did at Devlin, and I have to tell you, they're light-years ahead of us in some areas. Beck figured to use it in the stuff he was doing for the navy, but when the military contracts dropped off a couple of years ago, everything kind of stopped. But what they do have, wow…"
Andie had to smile, hearing the old excitement in his voice. "What's Billy doing now?"
"Last I heard, he'd sold his software company and was working as a consultant. Wish I could convince him to come on board with us. I could sure use some of that genius he has with computers."
"So ask him."
There was a long and thoughtful silence. "Do you think he would?"
"Sometimes all you have to do is ask, Conn."
"It'd be like old times." He tightened his arms around Andie and kissed the top of her head. "Billy and Corinne, you and me. Hell, we'd be invincible."
You and me. Andie smiled against Conn's chest, refusing to allow herself to even think it could ever happen. "Not if it means you're going to start beating up all my boyfriends again."
"I just beat up one. Fred Something. And he deserved it, groping you like that. You were thirteen years old!"
"I'd forgotten about Fred. I was thinking about
Ricky Hapgood, in fifth grade. And James Munro in sixth grade. And—"
"I caught Hapgood trying to kiss you behind the school buses, and Munro used to drop beetles down your back."
"And Eddie Cantrelli in seventh grade, and—"
"I didn't like the way he always had his arm around you."
"And Chad Matthews in my first year of college."
"Ditto. The guy was a surf bum, all muscle and brawn."
"He was cute."
"He had the IQ of a piece of celery."
"Unlike the women you used to date in college, of course, who were all Rhodes scholars masquerading as pinup girls."
Conn had to grin. "Yeah, yeah, okay. But for the record, I did date some pretty bright women, too. Hell, I dated you for a couple of months, and you're so bright, you scare me."
"Until you threw me over for Lisa."
Conn was quiet for a moment, thinking back to those days. He'd believed in magic back then, had believed in dreams. "Not one of my smarter decisions," he said thoughtfully, kissing the top of Andie's head again. "I should have gone after you that summer. I never felt right about the way things ended between us after that weekend up at Mount Baker. Maybe if I hadn't been so caught up in that damned computer Billy and I were designing, or if you'd stayed in Seattle instead of taking that summer job down in California … hell, who knows."
He rested his chin on the top of her head and stared into the fire, thinking idly that they might have been good together if they'd given it a chance. But he'd waited too long, and anything she'd felt for him had changed and he'd missed his chance.
"I guess you just don't know what you've got until you've lost it," he muttered half to himself.
Andie didn't say anything. She was nestled against him as though she belonged there, comfortable, natural, fitting into the contours of his body as though somehow designed for him.
Funny, how he'd never really noticed that before. He noticed it now, though – perhaps a little too vividly, very aware of the pressure of her breasts against his chest, the curve of hip and bottom against his lower belly, thigh against thigh. And he could feel the warmth of her, too, carrying with it the scent of shower gel and soap and clean feminine skin.