Annie crossed her arms. “What about the artifacts? I’ve got over two million dollars’ worth of antiquities in my safe. I’m not just going to leave them here.”
“I’ll post a guard,” Pete said. “Round-the-clock, outside the house. I’ve also made arrangements to have all your locks changed.”
Annie stared at him. “Did it occur to you to ask me if I wanted my locks changed?” she asked, annoyance in her voice. This was just too much….
“I assumed you’d want to stay alive,” Pete said.
Annie glanced at her watch. It was nearly six o’clock. She had only an hour to get all these people out of her house, shower and change. “Where’s Cara?” she said suddenly, noticing that the front lab was empty.
“She’s in the office, being questioned by the FBI,” Pete said.
“Questioned?”
“She’s a suspect, Annie,” he said. “She and Tillet are the only ones who have keys to this house besides you and me. If Tillet’s as desperate for money as he says he is—”
Annie’s eyes were shooting fire. She took an angry step toward him. “You go in there,” she said, “and you tell them that Cara is not a suspect.”
Pete held up his hands as if to placate her. It didn’t work. “Annie, you’ve got to admit, Cara had access to your bedroom all day. There’s no proof that she’s not somehow involved—”
“I don’t need proof,” Annie said hotly. “Now, are you going to tell them to stop harassing her, or am I?”
Before Pete had a chance to reply, the office door opened, and Cara came out, looking dazed.
“Are you okay?” Annie asked, her eyes filled with concern for her friend.
Cara’s lower lip trembled. “Annie, you don’t think I had anything to do with putting those bats in your room, do you?”
“I know you didn’t, MacLeish,” Annie said, forcing herself to make light. “I just can’t picture you handling two hundred bats.”
“Yuck,” Cara said, smiling shakily.
“I’m giving you two weeks’ paid vacation,” Annie said.
Cara frowned. “You can’t afford that right now—”
“Courtesy of Mr. Marshall,” Annie said with a grin. Her smile faded. “MacLeish, I’m not going to let you get blamed for everything that goes wrong around here. Do us both a favor. Leave tonight and don’t come back for two weeks.”
“I’ll feel like I’m deserting you,” Cara protested.
“You’re not,” Annie said. “I’ll see you at the museum tonight, all right?”
“What?” Pete asked.
“Oh, no, look at the time,” Cara said. “I should’ve been home an hour ago. Jerry wanted to get there early….” She hugged Annie. “See you later.”
Pete’s jaw tightened as he watched Cara let herself out of the house. He turned to Annie. “You’re not going to that fund-raiser.”
Annie raised her chin. “Oh, yes, I am.”
Pete ran both hands down his face, and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “Annie.” He shook his head. “We’re both exhausted. This isn’t the best time to go out into a crowd. It’s too dangerous.”
Maybe if he had talked to her before changing the locks, maybe if he had stood up for Cara, maybe then she would have agreed with him. She was exhausted. But she was angry—angry that things had gotten out of control, angry that her life seemed to be no longer her own, angry at Pete…
“I’ve got a date,” Annie said coolly. “I’ve got to go get ready.”
She started up the stairs. When she reached the top, she turned and looked back at Pete. He was standing where she had left him, looking up at her. His jeans were dirty, his T-shirt was stained with sweat and grass and he hadn’t shaved or showered all day. “Please tell the FBI agents to leave,” she said. “I don’t want them here when Nick shows up.”
ANNIE WAS PUTTING ON HER stockings when she heard a soft knock at her bedroom door. She slipped into her bathrobe and opened the door. Pete stood in the hall.
“York’s here,” he said expressionlessly. “He’s waiting in the living room.”
Annie nodded, unable to meet his eyes. “Thanks.”
She started to close the door, but he stopped it with his hand. “I’m going to take a shower,” Pete said. “Don’t leave without me.”
Annie crossed her arms. “Taylor, I’m going on a date. Somehow I don’t think Nick’s going to appreciate it if you tag along.”
Pete smiled, and Annie had to look away. “Understandable,” he said, watching her study the floorboards. “But I’m going to protect you. From Nick York, at the very least.”
Annie looked up sharply. “What if I don’t want to be protected from Nick?”
Pete didn’t say anything; he just looked at her. “Don’t forget to pack a change of clothes,” he finally said. “We might as well spend the night at a hotel in the city.”
Annie felt a stab of annoyance. “What if I decide to go home with Nick?” she said, then instantly regretted saying it.
Pete looked stunned. He covered it almost immediately, but he couldn’t hide the hurt that lingered in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. He shook his head. “I…didn’t know you and York were…”
“No,” Annie said quickly. “We’re…not. I don’t know why I said that. It was stupid. I—” She looked away from him, embarrassed. “I was just trying to make you jealous,” she admitted in a low voice. “I’m sorry.”
“It worked,” he said.
She met his eyes, and shook her head. “I still don’t know what you want from me, Pete. It would’ve been really nice if things had worked out between us, but, look, they didn’t, and tonight I’m going out with Nick. If you’ve got to come along, be inconspicuous, okay? Do you have something to wear? This is a formal event….”
“I can handle it,” Pete said, releasing the door.
Great, thought Annie, closing the door tightly. But can I?
CHAPTER TWELVE
IT WAS TWENTY AFTER SEVEN BEFORE Annie, walking carefully in her high heels, went into her living room.
Nick, resplendent in his tux and black tie, got to his feet. The gleam in his blue eyes was almost as bright as the light reflecting off his golden hair as he came toward her, arms outstretched. He kissed her, first on one cheek, and then on the other, before he nuzzled her neck.
“Perfect,” he said, his quick grin showing off a white flash of teeth. “I couldn’t have dreamed up a better dress. You look good enough to devour, sweet Annie. All of New York City will be salivating. I love it when you wear your hair up, darling—you look like a little girl playing dress-up.”
Pete stood quietly in the doorway, looking at Annie. York was right, he realized. With her hair elegantly swept up off her neck, with those wispy bangs in the front, with her wide blue eyes and generous mouth, Annie actually looked younger than when she wore her hair down. But her dress revealed a body that was all grown-up. It was blue velvet with an off-the-shoulder neckline that plunged down between her breasts. Short stand-away sleeves further framed her long neck and smooth shoulders. The bodice of the dress was tightly fitted, sweeping down into a short skirt that hugged her every curve. Sheer stockings covered elegantly shaped legs that went on and on and on, tucked into a pair of black-velvet high-heeled pumps. Her only jewelry was a pair of dangling coin-silver earrings. They were Navaho, Pete noticed.
“Hel-lo.” Nick had spotted him. “Who’s this?”
Annie’s eyes widened at the sight of Pete. His tuxedo was perfectly tailored, fitting his trim body exactly. With his hair slicked back and his cheeks freshly shaven, the only similarity between him and the dangerous-looking man who’d so recently raked her yard without a shirt was his dark, glittering eyes.
Pete couldn’t help himself. Involuntarily, his gaze swept down and then back up her body, lingering on her long legs and the soft, exposed tops of her breasts and throat. His eyes met hers, and he knew from the look on her face that he wasn’t able to hide his desire, his
need from her any longer. Hell, he’d given himself away. Turning, he tore his gaze away from her, staring blindly down at the Persian rug that covered the floor.
Annie had to work to catch her breath, wondering if she’d only imagined the raw desire she’d seen in Pete’s eyes. But no, she knew what she had seen. She just couldn’t begin to explain it.
“Nick, this is Pete Taylor,” Annie said, trying to cover her sudden breathlessness. “He let you in, remember? Pete, Dr. Nicholas York.”
The two men shook hands. Annie could see Pete quietly sizing Nick up. Nick was a little less subtle, giving Pete an obvious once-over.
“I thought you were the gardener,” Nick said. “Apparently I was mistaken.” He turned to Annie. “Darling, you didn’t tell me you’d gotten a new research assistant.”
“Taylor’s my bodyguard,” Annie explained.
“A bodyguard,” Nick said, turning to look at Pete again. “You’re kidding.”
“Annie’s been getting death threats,” Pete said, his gentle Western drawl a sharp contrast to Nick’s clipped English accent. His eyes met Annie’s again for only the briefest of instances before he looked away.
“Annie has, has she?” Nick said, exaggerating Pete’s use of her first name. He looked at Annie. “You know, that’s the problem with you Americans. You’re so focused on equality, you let the servants call you by your first names.” He turned back to Pete. “Take the night off, old boy. I can protect her just as well as you can. Better, no doubt—my IQ’s probably twice as high as yours.”
“Don’t be a jerk, Nick,” Annie said sharply.
Nick put his arms around her waist, pulling her in close to him. “I had a very romantic evening planned,” he whispered. “I intended to seduce you in the back of the limo on the way into the city.”
Pete clenched his teeth. It wasn’t hard to squelch the urge to grab Nick York by the front of his white tuxedo shirt and rearrange his perfect, golden-tanned features, but the fact that Pete had had the urge in the first place was alarming. Pete had no claim on Annie. He’d had his chance, but he’d declined, he’d passed, and now, God help him, he had no right to do or say anything at all.
“A limo?” Annie said, pulling away from Nick.
Nick grinned. “I’m in desperate need of funding,” he said. “Down to my last nickels and dimes. But there’s going to be quite a bit of money floating around tonight. And I figured, people like to back a winner, right? And winners arrive in limos. Speaking of arriving, we should get going. We don’t want to miss the buffet—it may be my one square meal all week.”
“I’ll be right there. I just want to check to make sure everything’s locked up.” Annie headed down to the lab with Pete and Nick trailing after her.
As Nick went toward the front door, Annie went into the office and turned off the lights. She then checked the lab. The instruments were put away, the sinks were clean, the counters were cleared off. Everything was in order, the safe was securely locked. She turned back to the door, coming face-to-face with Pete.
Their eyes met and again she saw heat. This time he didn’t look away.
“You look beautiful,” he said softly.
Annie stared up at him, hypnotized by the look in his eyes. “Thank you,” she murmured.
Pete couldn’t stop himself. He took a step toward her, and another step. As he watched, she nervously moistened her lips, and he felt desire slice through him, hot and sharp and very painful.
God help him, he had to kiss her—
Nick’s voice floated in from outside. “Darling, I hate to be a nag, but we really must be on our way.”
Pete turned abruptly away, nearly consumed by a wave of anger and frustration. He wasn’t sure who he was angrier at—York, for interrupting them, or himself for nearly giving in to his weakness.
Annie turned off the lights in the lab, then hurried past Pete, heading out the door.
“Ready then, are we?” Nick smiled, taking her arm and leading her toward the waiting limo.
Pete carried out Annie’s overnight bag and his backpack and put them in the trunk. He was about to join Annie in the main body of the car when Nick stopped him.
“Servants go up front,” Nick said, his eyes cool. “You can sit with the driver.”
Pete kept his expression carefully neutral. “Not this time,” he said and climbed into the back. He sat down across from Annie, sinking into the soft leather seat.
As Nick climbed in beside Annie and the limo rolled slowly out of the driveway, Pete stared out the window, steeling himself for the long night ahead. He could feel Annie’s eyes watching him. Her confusion was nearly palpable, and he knew he shouldn’t look into her eyes again—it would only make things worse.
But he couldn’t help himself. He looked up. He’d meant only to glance in Annie’s direction, but her gaze caught and held him.
As he stared into the bottomless blue depths of her eyes, he knew for damn certain he was out of control.
INSIDE THE MUSEUM OF MODERN ART, the party was in full swing. An orchestra played music in the main lobby, and people were dancing. A buffet table had been set up, and it was loaded with wonderfully aromatic food.
Pete left Annie’s jacket and their two bags at the coat check, keeping a careful eye on her the entire time.
Nick had whisked her out onto the dance floor where they moved gracefully to an old song. “Stardust,” Pete thought. It was called “Stardust.” He moved to the edge of the crowd, where he could see Annie and Nick clearly.
Annie stood out in the crowd. With her gleaming hair, her long, graceful neck, those creamy white shoulders contrasted by the deep blue of the dress…She looked as if she belonged here, amid the glitter of New York society. And Nick York looked as if he belonged at her side.
Pete watched York bend down and say something in Annie’s ear. She smiled distractedly. She was looking around, searching the crowd…. Her eyes landed on Pete, and he realized with a sudden breathlessness that she’d been looking for him.
Even across the room, the charge that their locked gaze generated seemed to spark and crackle with heat. But then York spun Annie around, turning her so that her back was to Pete.
Pete took a deep breath and glanced around the room, looking for any sign of trouble, anything out of the ordinary. It wouldn’t be too difficult in a crowd like this for an assassin to get up close and do some real damage with a knife. One quick thrust, and the victim wouldn’t even fall, held up by the crush of people. Man, what he wouldn’t give to be next to Annie, to be able to shield her with his own body. What he wouldn’t give to be able to dance with her, to hold her in his arms….
The orchestra ended the song, and the dancers applauded. Pete watched York lean close to Annie’s ear again and gesture toward the food.
ANNIE LET NICK LEAD HER BY THE hand to the buffet table. She glanced back through the crowd to where she’d last seen Pete, but he was gone.
He’d been standing there through the entire dance, watching her, looking at her the way he had back at the house, and for most of the limo ride. What was going on? By running out of her room that night, Pete couldn’t have told her any more clearly that he didn’t want her. So why was he suddenly looking at her as if he did? Was this some kind of macho possessive thing? Annie wondered, frowning slightly. Maybe even though Pete didn’t want her, he simply didn’t want Nick to have her, either. Or maybe he just liked the idea of jerking her around. Maybe he liked having her panting after him. Maybe—
Pete was standing by the buffet table, looking at her as if she were the main course. His dark eyes swept her face, lingering on her mouth a heartbeat or two longer than necessary. Silently, he offered her a plate, but she shook her head.
“No, thank you,” she said. “I’m not very hungry.”
Through the throng of party-goers, she spotted Jerry Tillet. “Excuse me,” she murmured to Nick, and slipped her hand out from his arm. As she approached Tillet, she saw that he was talking earnestly to
a tall, broad-shouldered man who was wearing a cowboy hat. It wasn’t until she was closer that she realized it was none other than Steven Marshall—the buyer of Stands Against the Storm’s death mask, and Pete’s employer. She greeted both men with a smile.
“Dr. Tillet, I didn’t realize you knew Mr. Marshall,” she said.
Despite his smile, Jerry looked uncomfortable. “Yeah, well,” he said, “in this business, everyone knows everyone else. You know how it is….”
Marshall shook Annie’s hand, then brought it up to his lips. “How’s it goin’, darlin’?” he asked. “Everything okay?”
Annie extracted her fingers from his grip. “To be perfectly honest, things are getting a little out of hand.”
Marshall’s light brown eyes sparkled in amusement. “Dr. Tillet told me about the bats,” he said. “That musta really shook things up.”
A waiter with a tray of champagne glasses passed, and Marshall deftly removed two, handing one to Annie with a flourish. She took a sip, glancing around the room—and directly into Pete’s eyes. He stood about fifteen feet away, leaning against the wall, watching her. Deliberately, she turned her back to him.
“I bumped the death mask up on my list,” Annie told Marshall. “I should be getting carbon-dating results back any day now.”
Marshall’s smile broadened. “Well, all right,” he said. “Your rainy day makes my garden grow. But that’s the way life is, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, that’s life,” Annie agreed.
Tillet looked positively antsy, and Annie realized she’d broken into the conversation before he’d had a chance to hit Marshall up for funding. “Has Dr. Tillet told you about his latest Mayan project?” she asked him. “It’s fascinating.”
With a grateful smile, Tillet launched into his well-rehearsed patter. Annie had heard it too many times before, so she let her attention wander, sipping her champagne and looking around the room.
Pete Taylor had moved, planting himself once again directly in her line of sight.
Annie tried to stare him down, but the heat in his eyes only intensified. It’s a mind game, she told herself. He’s just toying with me. She held on to her anger, trying not to give in to the molten feeling of desire that was forming in the pit of her stomach.
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