by Jamie Denton
“You are my partner.”
“Then, dammit, start treating me like one,” Colin said forcefully. He slapped the file down on one of the cartons. “I’ve been clean since we opened the agency. Three years, Duncan. Three years and I haven’t slipped once. Not one time, and you still have no faith in me. What else do I have to do to earn your trust?”
Colin stalked from the room.
Damn.
“You’re my kid brother,” Duncan argued when he found Colin in the living room. “I worry.” The truth was, he hadn’t wanted Colin working recovery jobs. They dealt in stolen merchandise. The caliber of people Duncan came in contact with weren’t exactly upstanding citizens. He thought he’d been protecting his brother, doing what he could to keep him from finding trouble. Obviously, Colin didn’t share his philosophy.
“Well, don’t,” Colin snapped. “Find yourself another hobby, okay? I can take care of myself.”
“So what are you trying to tell me? You want more recovery assignments?”
“Yeah, I do. Let me work the smaller claims, the low-priority stuff to start. I’ll still bring in new business, because I’m good at it.”
“Too good,” Duncan muttered, thinking of the mess threatening to overtake his office. If Colin was seriously ready to cover some of their lighter weight jobs, that would free up Duncan to concentrate on heavy hitters like Wilder, Dearborn and Garfield. It would also get Lucy off his back, insofar as their financial status was concerned. At least until she found a new reason to nag him.
“All right,” he conceded, praying he wasn’t making a mistake. “You can start with the nickel-and-dime recoveries, but don’t think because they’re small jobs they’re not important. They can be our bread and butter in between the big cases. I’ve asked Marisa to cover your meeting on Friday. That okay with you?”
“She’ll do a good job,” Colin said, his confidence in Marisa evident by his sudden grin. “I’ve been thinking we might want to consider redefining her position, anyway. Hire a new secretary, promote Marisa and maybe think about picking up some of her education expenses as a bonus.”
Although he, too, had been considering officially expanding Marisa’s job description, Duncan still hesitated agreeing outright with Colin. There was his conversation with Lucy to consider, as well, and he worried how his brother would handle the news that they were currently on shaky financial ground. Correction, temporarily on shaky financial ground.
You still have no faith in me…
Long habits died hard. That didn’t mean he would stop worrying about his brother.
“We’re having a cash flow problem, and can’t afford to make any big changes right now.” One step at a time, he thought, keeping the news they were dangerously close to laying off personnel to himself for the time being. “Lucy was all over my ass today about revenue.”
Colin gave him a tolerant look. “Why do you think I took on the Vale file? Last month’s financials were a nightmare.”
“You knew?” Duncan asked, unable to mask his surprise. He had no idea Lucy kept his brother informed. He supposed it did make sense, though.
Colin chuckled. “You really don’t read Lucy’s status memos, do you?”
“No,” Duncan admitted. “But I’m going to start.” He checked his watch. “I’ve got to go. Meet me in the office at ten. We’ll go over some files, get you started.”
Colin walked him to the door. “Why so late? You’re always in no later than seven.”
Duncan shrugged. “Could be a late night,” he answered evasively.
“You’re working too hard. And here I was hoping you had a hot date,” Colin teased.
Duncan tried to contain the smile threatening to erupt, and failed. “Who says I don’t?”
“Wow!” Colin laughed. “With a girl?”
Duncan supposed it had been a while. A long while, now that he thought about it. Months, even.
“No, with a woman.” One hell of an exciting woman he looked forward to seeing again with a great deal of anticipation.
“Anyone I know?” Colin asked. “That babe on the second floor gets all dreamy-eyed whenever she sees you in the elevator.”
“It’s no one you know.”
“Guess you won’t tell me about her, either, huh?”
Duncan’s smile shifted into a full grin. “Not a chance, little brother.”
He reached for the door, but stopped to look back at Colin. “You’re right. I should’ve trusted you,” he offered by way of an apology. “It won’t happen again.”
The traffic was light as he drove across town from Colin’s apartment to meet Sunny at Toucan Sam’s. Fifteen minutes later, he pulled into the restaurant parking lot and was prepared to admit he had been in the wrong jumping to the conclusions he had about this brother. He’d been operating on assumptions which were based on history, not stopping to take into account not only the progress Colin had made, but how his brother had done nothing to elicit Duncan’s suspicions.
Accepting Colin as a more active participant in every aspect of business would require some adjustments on Duncan’s part. Carrying the burden had always been his role. Sharing responsibility was a foreign concept to him.
He made a sound of disgust as he killed the engine. Apparently Colin wasn’t the only Chamberlain with a few scars from the past.
Fine. He could learn to let go, lessen his grip on the reins. A little. But there wasn’t a chance in hell he would allow the business to fold, not when the difference between success and failure could mean an end to the progress his brother had made in turning his life around.
Failure was not an option.
No matter what it took.
8
IF THE QUAKING of Sunny’s limbs were being monitored by the Richter scale, she’d easily register a reading high enough to flatten the greater D.C. area and beyond. All because she’d changed her sheets for something other than laundry day? She hadn’t been filled with this much nervous excitement since the day she’d graduated from the academy at Quantico. Obviously she not only needed to get laid more often, she needed a life.
Fearing hyperventilation if she didn’t get a grip and calm her rattled nerves, she took advantage of her early arrival by closing her eyes and breathing deeply. Holding the steering wheel of her Jeep Liberty in a death grip, she tried to imagine herself lazing in the tall grass near the stream on her parents’ property. Blocking out the bustle of the busy city around her, she imagined the soothing sound of water flowing over rocks and lapping at the shoreline. In her mind, the leaves of the trees fluttered softly overhead on the warm, summer breeze. The sun beat down on her, warming her skin as she catalogued the shifting shapes and images formed from enormous, white cottony clouds.
The rhythm of the water changed suddenly, drawing her attention away from the cloud pictures. Shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun with her hand, she rose up on one elbow to see a gloriously naked Duncan emerge from the stream. The fresh, cool water clung to his deeply tanned skin, rivulets of moisture winding a sensual path through the hills and valleys of lean, hard muscle. Slowly, he moved toward her, a seductive grin on his face filled with such confidence her breath caught, making a mockery of her deep breathing technique. She followed the path of water sliding down his body. He was so big and…impressive. Everywhere.
A sigh escaped. A pathetically dreamy one that had her opening her eyes and frowning. Her fantasy made no sense. What was she thinking? Streams were too shallow for swimming, or even serious wading. Oh well, she thought with a tiny shrug. This was her fantasy, after all, she could imagine whatever she chose. And she liked where her imagination had ventured thus far. It heightened the anticipation of trying out all that new masculine-sensitive bedding on Duncan to see if reality was anywhere near as impressive as fantasy.
She closed her eyes, then snapped them open and frowned again. This was not supposed to be a fantasy, but an exercise in relaxation. Maybe her subconscious knew something she didn’t? Oh God, s
he hoped so.
One last attempt had her lashes fluttering closed again. Her grip on the steering wheel slackened as she envisioned reaching her arms toward Duncan, welcoming him…
A light rap on the driver’s side window made her shriek. She flinched so hard, her knee slammed into the steering wheel. One hand flew to her chest in a vain attempt to still the wild beating of her heart, while the other massaged her knee and what would no doubt be an ugly bruise come morning.
She turned her head to see Duncan shrug and offer an apologetic little half smile that did nothing to slow the pounding of her heart. In fact, she could’ve sworn her pulse picked up speed. So much for relaxing and getting a grip. She was more keyed up than when she’d gone wandering into fantasyland.
With one final deep, far-from-calming breath, she pulled her keys from the ignition. He opened the door for her and she snagged her bag from the passenger seat before sliding from the Jeep. Her feet hit the pavement. “You scared me half to death.”
“Sorry ’bout that.” He sounded about as contrite as the sexy tilt of his mouth had been apologetic. “I waved, but you didn’t see me.”
Oh, she had seen plenty. The image would remain etched on her conscience for eons. “I was…lost in thought,” she murmured. If you only knew.
She pressed the lock button on her key ring to set the car alarm, then attempted to stuff her keys inside her bag. Unsure whether to blame her nerves, the fantasy or the man responsible for both, the keys slipped from her fingers and landed on the pavement with a clatter. She stared in fascination as he stooped to retrieve them for her. His onyx-black hair gleamed under the reddish hue of the setting sun, and his shoulders…oh my, she hadn’t realized exactly how wide they really were. Her imagination went into overtime as she envisioned dragging her nails over his muscular flesh, along the sculpted landscape of his back to his rear end where her fingers pressed into the taut flesh, holding him to her….
He stood and held her keys out to her, a quizzical expression on his beautifully handsome face. “Are you okay? You’re looking a little flushed.”
It’s called hot and bothered, honey. “I’m fine. It’s just…uh…just the humidity,” she stammered, then fanned herself with her hand while managing a nervous laugh. He probably thought she was an idiot. “Maybe we should go inside. You know. Air conditioning?”
Thankfully he took the hint, motioning for her to go ahead of him. She stepped over the curb to the concrete walkway and winced, unsure which caused her more agony, her sore knee or her feet, courtesy of the unaccustomed height of the four-inch spiked heels pinching her toes.
“You look incredible,” he said when he came up beside her.
More heat crept into her cheeks, but she didn’t mind the cause this time. “Thank you.” She cast a sideways glance in his direction as they reached the entrance of the restaurant. He looked just as sexy and rumpled as when she’d left him hours ago. “You look…the same.”
He chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. “Should I take that as compliment or criticism?”
“I’m sorry,” she said in a rush as he held the door open for her. She hadn’t meant to insult him. “Oh God, I didn’t mean to imply…I mean, I never meant—”
He snagged her hand, sending a jolt to her system that stilled her rambling. Lacing their fingers together, he tugged gently until she faced him. Before she realized his intentions, he dipped his head and his mouth covered hers, hot and determined. His tongue pressed against the seam of her lips demanding entrance. The world around her faded as she welcomed him inside. A sigh rose in her throat and she leaned into him.
He ended the kiss just as abruptly, leaving her with a distinct sense of disappointment. She wanted more. A lot more. The sooner the better. And couldn’t care less that they were in public.
He traced the outline of her jaw with a light brush of his fingertips against her skin, his touch impossibly gentle. “Relax, Sunny,” he said quietly. “Nothing is going to happen here that you don’t want to happen, okay?”
Coherent thought took more effort than she could possibly muster, but she did manage a mute nod in response. The way her lips tingled and her insides kept twittering and jumping all over the place, she’d be lucky to ever have a rational thought again that didn’t include Duncan and the way he so effortlessly reduced her to sheer idiocy with a mere kiss. Good Lord, she hated to think what would happen to her rationale when they had sex.
With her hand still clasped in his, they approached the hostess who gave them a knowing smile before leading them toward the rear of the restaurant. Sunny tried to take care as she maneuvered the rough-textured terra-cotta tiled flooring in her heels, but she couldn’t get his that-you-don’t-want-to-happen line out of her head.
She should tell him she wanted plenty to happen and be done with it. Be direct. Go after what she wanted. The only real question was timing.
The atmosphere was indeed casual as Georgia had suggested, but she hadn’t been prepared for the outlandish decor of Toucan Sam’s—trashy tropical with a big splash of jungle not-so-chic. Bright neon toucans protruded like street signs from posts made from the trunks of imitation palm trees. Ghastly yellow and lime Day-Glo-colored banner-type flags hung from the birds’ beaks, directing customers to such imaginary locales as Rum Punch Pier, Captain Morgan’s Cove, Tequila Sunrise Dunes and Bahama Mama Beach. Overhead beams resembling thick tree branches were draped in artificial vegetation of lush leaves, dangling vines and plumeria.
The hostess led them into the relatively secluded Captain Morgan’s Cove. They were seated in the last vacant booth near an indoor waterfall decorated with jagged lava rock and more artificial plants. A pool at the base of the waterfall came complete with lily pads where fake frogs croaked and danced in time to reggae music playing in the background.
Sunny took the menus the hostess offered since Duncan’s gaze was riveted in fascination on the chorus of frogs.
“I hear the food is supposed to be good,” she said hopefully. She giggled, unable to contain her amusement when the frogs started bobbing up and down in animated enthusiasm.
“I sure hope so. This place looks like…” He shook his head and faced her. “Like…”
“The decorator fried a few too many brain cells in Margaritaville?” she finished for him.
“That would cover it,” he said and chuckled. Plucking the drink menu from the rattan holder, he spread it open so they could view it together.
Sunny leaned forward, resting her arms on the glass tabletop. The mixed drink choices weren’t quite as outrageous as the decor, offering the standard blended fare with a heavy tropical slant, a variety of intriguing shooter combinations, half of which she’d never heard of, and the usual mixed drinks.
A young waiter garbed in a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of frayed denim walking shorts approached to take their drink order and introduced himself as Joey. She half expected him to be sporting flip-flops, but thankfully there were health and safety codes dictating otherwise.
“Corona,” Duncan told the waiter. “With lime.”
Sunny flipped drink menu closed and returned it to the holder. “Make that two, please.”
“A woman after my own heart,” Duncan said once Joey shuffled off in his canvas deck shoes, sans socks. “Never would’ve guessed you for the beer type, though.”
She flicked the edge of the bright Hawaiian-print napkin with her fingernail. “Oh? And what type would you have guessed me for?”
He rested his forearms on the table and leaned slightly forward. “Exotic,” he said simply.
Why that gave her heart a jolt, she couldn’t say, but she liked the feeling as much as she enjoyed the electric intensity of his gaze as he looked at her. The deep, husky timbre of his voice wasn’t bad, either. Definitely all of the above, she decided. When it came to her reaction to the man seated across from her, Anything Goes was quickly becoming her motto.
She cleared her throat and shifted uncomfortably under his stare. “Do you
come here often?” she asked lamely. From his reaction, she was betting not.
The mock horror on his face confirmed her suspicions and she laughed. “Not exactly,” he said, his tone filled with dry humor. “Lucy talks about it, but I think I should’ve checked it out first.”
“It’s not so bad.” She glanced over at the frogs in heavy shake-your-booty mode. “They’re kinda fun and cute, don’t you think?”
“I didn’t realize you had such a warped concept of what qualifies as fun and cute,” he teased her. The corners of his eyes crinkled when his smile deepened. “Puppies, kittens, they’re cute. Amusement parks, merry-go-rounds and a day at the beach. Now that’s fun.”
“You can keep the merry-go-round,” she countered, “and put me down for Christmas instead.”
Finding Duncan under the tree on Christmas morning could be loads of fun, she thought. Of course he’d be wearing nothing but one of his heart-stopping smiles and a strategically placed red bow, waiting to be unwrapped solely for her pleasure. A big red bow, too…at least according to her imagination.
In desperate need of a distraction before she wound up caught in the middle of another delicious fantasy, she scanned the menu and decided on the grilled trout with rice pilaf and a salad just as the beach-bum-clad Joey returned with a pair of frosted glass mugs and two Coronas, a slice of lime tucked into the neck of each bottle. He took their order, promising to return soon with the appetizers Duncan ordered for them.
“This warped sense of humor,” Duncan said. “A genetic defect or an acquired skill?”
Humor touched his smile. She tried desperately not to melt right there in the booth in front of him.
She let out an intentionally dramatic sigh. “Defect, I’m afraid. What can I say?” She shrugged. “I’m the spawn of a severely flawed gene pool.”
“Explain to me how a person genetically predisposed to humor becomes something as serious as an FBI agent. Family tradition?”