by Leger, Lori
Drake lifted his bag by its strap. “I brought a set of decent clothes in case. I just didn’t want to drive in them.” He set the bag on her floor. “You let me worry about me and get yourself dressed to impress Mr. McAllister.”
“I’m not doing anything to impress Red. I just wanted to have a little fun with a good friend.”
“Yeah,” he said, still unconvinced. “Whatever you say.”
Around eight o’clock Red finished his discussion with one of the many bartenders on hand that night. He turned, to see his youngest sister approaching. “Hey Sis, you got your dancing shoes on?”
Annie nodded. “Yep, it’s been a hell of a week. I’ll have the usual, Bobby.” The bartender handed her a light beer. “Where’s Tiffany? I thought she was driving in with you?”
“Her brother came in unexpectedly and she decided they’d drive over together.”
“She has a brother?”
“Yeah, Drake—younger by a couple of years.”
“What does he look like?”
“I have no idea. We’ve only spoken once, and it was over the phone. He seemed pretty straight-up, like Doc.”
“Is he a doctor too?”
“He’s a lawyer.”
“Ugh!” she said, unable to hide her cringe. “I hate him already.”
“Give him a chance, Annie. If he’s anything like Tiffany, he can’t be that bad.”
She spun on her heels, tossing back her auburn locks. “I don’t have to give him a chance. I’m not in love with his sister.”
He opened his mouth, but shut it, thinking it wouldn’t do a damned bit of good to argue with the truth. After taking a call from a backer in his office he exited, scanning the club for Tiffany. He thought sure she would have been here by now. It was nice to have a packed club, but it sure as hell wasn’t a substitute for the woman he cared for. He headed for Annie again, who stood in a group of women he didn’t know. He reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. “Hey sis, you haven’t seen Doc yet, have you?”
One woman turned abruptly and he found himself staring into a pair of familiar, soft brown eyes. He stood there, his mouth gaping open, knowing he must look like an idiot. He’d remember his first sight of Doc as a gorgeous brunette instead of a beautiful blonde forever.
Tiffany’s eyes crinkled with laughter. “I won’t hold it against you since I barely recognize my own reflection.”
Somewhat recovered, but wanting nothing more than to get tangled up in those rich brown curls, he managed to close his mouth. He fought the urge to reach out for her, thinking he’d be helpless if she only knew the effect she had on him. “I can’t believe the difference it’s made.”
Tiffany’s left eyebrow rose in a delicate arch. “For the better, I hope.”
“Absolutely,” he said, nodding as he finally gave in and touched the silky softness of the curls shimmering with golden highlights. “Tanner is a fool. You are positively stunning.”
“Thank you, Red.”
“Hey,” Annie said, waving a hand in front of Red’s face. “I want to go meet Bailey, but judging from the heat you two are generating, I’m not sure it’s safe to leave Tiffany alone with you.”
“Okay sis,” Red murmured, never breaking eye contact with Tiffany.
“Oh Lord,” Annie grumbled, as she turned away. “Get a room, you two.”
Drake rounded the corner after leaving the men’s room and nearly knocked a tiny, though tightly-packed woman, clean off her feet. He reached out to keep her from flying backwards onto her diminutive derriere.
“Excuse me, little lady,” he managed to drawl, just before his breath caught at the sight of the beautiful blue eyes, wide with surprise. He’d never been attracted to red heads, especially ones with curly hair.
Until now, anyway.
He gazed, transfixed by the silky auburn curls framing the delicate features of her face. Brows of the same hue lifted as her eyes widened.
“It’s—it’s okay.” She took a moment to visibly compose herself. She sidestepped him and made her way toward the ladies room.
Drake couldn’t help but stare at her tight little butt in the short brown skirt and body hugging sweater. The stiletto heels she wore accentuated shapely, toned legs—even though they fell far short of giving her the height she obviously longed for. He’d dated more than his fair share of women, but never had he been witness to a body as perfectly proportioned as that one. He watched her turn back, aiming a curious glance his direction, just before she ducked into the ladies room.
Hell to the yeah! Drake parked himself at the end of the hallway, where he’d be sure to see her when she exited. No way was he losing that one’s coordinates tonight. Red McAllister would just have to wait.
She hoped Mr. Too Sexy for Words with the drawl to match was watching her, and chanced one last backward glance his way. He was watching, all right—with an intensity that nearly took her breath away. An unfamiliar shiver of excitement crept up her spine, making her wonder about the tall stranger. She forced herself to turn away and escape into the ladies room. He’s definitely not from here. Not with that accent. Texas or Oklahoma, maybe.
There had been just enough light in the hallway to be certain about the color of his eyes. They were big and brown, the exact same color as her favorite candy, chocolate M & M’s. His neatly trimmed hair was sandy brown and looked like it would curl if left to grow out. Big boy had the slightest hint of a cleft in his otherwise perfect chin, a straight nose, and lips perfectly shaped for kissing.
She knew he was in shape. She’d nearly broken her nose on his solid chest. Every physical trait on that man was perfectly suited to her tastes—except for one. He was too tall for her. Being just under five feet and a perfect size one, she was more comfortable with guys who didn’t make her feel like one of Jeff Dunham’s dummies. That being said, damned if she hadn’t been craving the touch of a gorgeous hunk of man lately. And what would their difference in height matter when all she was interested in was a dance or two?
The fact that he waited a full five minutes for her reappearance proved his level of attraction. He didn’t need to wait on a woman. Ever. Concealed by shadows, he watched as she cleared the hallway and stopped, scanning the area. He used the several seconds to study her delicate profile, thinking he’d never seen anything so lovely in his life.
“I sure as hell hope you’re looking for me,” he drawled. She whipped around to face him, her lovely face registering shock. “Because I need a dance partner and you look like a dancer to me.”
She lifted her chin and extended her hand. “I never dance with anyone unless I know their name. I’m—Nicole.”
He took it, filing away a vital piece of evidence, revealed by the slight hesitation in her voice. Not her real name. The redhead was either cautious, or cagey as hell. He could respect cautious, but cagey generally meant a husband or fiancé at home. “I’m Marcus.” He chose to give her his first name only.
She gave him a pert nod. “I trust you can dance, Marcus. Don’t disappoint me.”
He led her onto the main floor, where they jumped into a quick paced Texas two-step. Drake held her, amazed at how good she felt in his arms. He felt larger than life, somehow, in a protective sort of way. He dismissed the thought, chalking it up to her being so vertically challenged. Besides, ideas like that were out of line when he didn’t even know her real name. He pushed it aside—this was a world apart from his life, anyway.
The two-step ended and the live band stopped for break as the DJ went right into the Eli Young Band’s Crazy Girl. Not bothering to ask if she wanted to continue dancing, he pulled her closer, feeling her respond with a slight tug on his shoulder.
An old feeling stirred in him. Something he hadn’t felt in years with the women he’d dated in the past. Drake tried to act casual as he stole a glance at her, but what he saw blew that all to hell. As an attorney, he’d long perfected his ability to read people, their body language, speech patterns, and facial expressions.
Nicole’s body language couldn’t be any easier to read if it was plastered in neon. He recognized the passion, accompanied by a desperate, though unsuccessful effort to hide it from him. He also saw surprise, mixed with a little terror. He suspected she was as unaccustomed to having this kind of reaction to a stranger as he was.
There was just enough of a pause between one song’s end and the next track for her to thank him politely and step away. Halfway into her retreat, the introductory bars of a soulful piano ballad had every woman in the club moaning, including Nicole. Drake smiled to himself, thanking God for Adele as she belted out the first lyrics of One and Only.
He reached for her hand. “One more, Nicole?” He hoped like hell she’d accept the offer. “I’ve got a fondness for the piano.”
She reached slowly for his hand and nodded. “I do too.”
Pulling her close, he considered himself lucky. He’d felt her reluctance to accept the third dance and wondered if it was the thought of dancing with him again that made her uneasy—and if so, why? He brushed aside his curiosity, telling himself it didn’t matter. This one last dance would be enough for him.
He believed it, too.
Right up until Nicole’s head lolled back as though hopelessly lost in the music.
Reveling in the feel of her in his arms, he knew he wouldn’t be satisfied without taking just a little more. Unable to resist the temptation, Drake defied his own conservative nature and leaned down to kiss her. If he was surprised at his own action, he was shocked all to hell with the intensity of her reaction. She kissed him as though they were well acquainted lovers instead of virtual strangers. As her arms looped around his neck he wrapped his arms around her, encompassing her tiny waist. He stood then, straightening, and lifter her until her legs dangled at least a foot above the floor.
Gasping, she pulled her lips from his. “Put me down, Marcus.”
He set her down gently, watching her, sensing that if there had been more light he would have seen her fair skin stained pink from embarrassment. As it was, she wouldn’t look him in the eye, and it flooded him with an unfamiliar, as well as overwhelming need to protect and comfort her.
“I’m sorry, Nicole. I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“I’m fine.” She spoke in a rushed, breathless voice, and then turned her crystal blue gaze upwards.
“I can see that.” He lowered his head, unable to keep his lips from hers another second.
Nicole’s arms returned to his neck, sending him into an all-encompassing sensual tailspin. Totally absorbed in her presence, he became aware of his hands nearly encircling her tiny waist. His fingers skimmed her silken, supple skin, bared to his touch as her sweater rode up with the lift of her arms.
Her lips, so unbelievably soft—who the hell was he kidding? Everything about her was feather soft. Nicole’s hair—he suddenly didn’t give a rat’s ass what her name was or wasn’t—her skin, even her scent was all soft, supple woman. He wanted to immerse himself in her essence, was just thinking how he wouldn’t be satisfied until he knew everything about her, when she pulled free from his embrace. Her sudden disappearance left him with the strangest sense of loss, a void he was totally unfamiliar with until this moment.
Drake scanned the shadows, and found her hurrying to a table. She spoke to its occupants, grabbed her purse, and ran to the door. In a few short seconds, she’s escaped to the parking lot. He followed—because how could he not? He caught up with her easily.
“Nicole, wait!”
“Don’t you follow me,” she said, never breaking her stride.
He hurried ahead, blocked her path. “Can’t we talk?”
She pointed to the club, sent him a wild-eyed, terror-filled look. “That was not me. I don’t do things like that—not—ever!” Her tone was just this side of hysterical.
“I know that. I could tell. Believe this or not, but neither do I. That’s why we need to talk.” His one step forward prompted her to back away.
She raised both hands, shielding herself. “Don’t. You scare the hell out of me. You’re too—it’s—it’s all too intense. I don’t need this right now.” Her voice trembled with nerves, or emotion, or both.
He reached for her, perplexed by his own desperate need to console this woman. “Can’t we at least explore this? Let’s exchange phone numbers. I’d like to talk to you again. Later. Without all the music and crowded dance floor. We could take it slow.”
Her laughter, high and shrill from her state of near hysteria, rang out across the parking lot. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Not at all.” He tried to maintain a modicum of composure. “I’d like to see you again. We could take our time and get to know each other.”
She shook her head wildly. “Can’t do it. We both know there’s no way in hell we could take anything slowly.” She brushed her curls away from her face. “This is my time. My life. My career has just started.” She walked around him, her steps quick, sharp, and determined. “Don’t follow me.”
She climbed into her vehicle, a black Ford Escape with a sunroof—barely gave the engine time to turn over before throwing it into drive. She drove off, but not before Drake got a good look at her Louisiana license plate. He ran inside, borrowed a pen from the bartender, and jotted down the series of numbers and letters on a napkin.
Annie waited until she was out of the parking lot to make a phone call. She took a deep breath when the other party answered. “Hey. I’ve got to go home. I have another one of my migraines. Yeah. I’m fine to drive. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
She barely had time to end the call before her tears started. She drove the entire way home, crying and cursing intermittently, completely confused by the rush of emotions, as well as her tears. By the time she made it to Kenton, she still hadn’t decided if she’d narrowly escaped a major stumbling block, or missed out on a golden opportunity for happiness.
Drake searched for his sister and Red, hoping his possible future brother-in-law knew this Nicole or whatever her name was. He found them both at the other end of the bar.
Tiffany turned at his approach. “Here he is. What happened, Drake? Did you get lost?”
“I got side-tracked, sorry.” Drake took a good look at the man standing beside her and reached out. “Drake LeBlanc.”
Red gave him a firm handshake, exuding confidence and a straight-forward attitude. “Scott McAllister, but you can call me Red. It’s nice to meet you, Drake.”
Drake nodded. “I’ve heard good things about you.”
Red aimed an unabashed gaze of admiration at Tiffany. “Likewise.”
Oh yeah. He’s crazy about her. Drake cleared his throat as he looked around. “You’ve got a nice place.”
“Thanks man, it’s been a few years coming.”
“When’s the one in Lake Coburn opening?”
“New Year’s Eve; it should be a big party. I hope I can count on you to be there.” He passed an ice cold beer to Drake.
Drake thanked him before taking a much appreciated drag on the long neck bottle. “It’s possible. Tiffany tells me we got ourselves invited to Christmas dinner at your ranch. You dabble in livestock, too?”
Red gave his head an ardent shake. “Nah, the previous owner was a rancher, but I don’t have time for it. I just got tired of living in the city, fighting the traffic every day. I’m sure you can relate.”
Drake cringed. “Houston traffic is a bitch, man.”
Red nodded and looked up. “Here are two more members of my clan. Drake, I’d like you to meet two of my sisters, Melissa and Bailey and their husbands.”
Drake turned, doing a double take at the two beauties that joined them. Both had blue eyes like their brother, and both had red hair—not bright red, but a light auburn, burnished with golden highlights. They looked remarkably like … Nicole. He kept quiet about his suspicions during Red’s introduction to the others.
“Where’s Annie?” Red asked, scanning the area. “She came by here w
ith a group of friends from St. Gabe’s, but I haven’t seen her in a while.”
“She left because of a migraine,” Bailey said.
Drake’s excitement turned to worry when he saw the veil of concern pass over the club owner’s face.
“Was she all right to drive?” Red asked. “Those things usually hit her hard and fast.”
Bailey nodded. “She said she’d be fine. I told her to call me as soon as she made it back to Kenton.”
“I’m gonna do a little genetic profiling by assuming she looks a lot like her sisters, am I right?” Drake asked, trying not to give anything away.
“Yep,” Tiffany answered. “They all have the same gorgeous auburn hair and trademark McAllister blue eyes.”
Drake nodded and fought to keep the grin off of his face. “I may have seen her. Was she wearing a brown skirt, with a tan sweater and some really tall heels? A little bitty thing—maybe about yay tall—with the heels?” He held up his hand to illustrate.
“That’s Annie,” Melissa said. “Did you meet her?”
“We didn’t officially meet, but I did see her.”
Tiffany frowned. “I guess you’ll have to wait for Christmas. You think you can make it?”
“I promised I would, didn’t I?” He glanced toward the door he’d recently followed Annie McAllister through. “As a matter of fact, a herd of wild ass buffalo couldn’t keep me away from your place on Christmas Day, Red. Give me a time and an address and I’ll be there.”
Tiffany pulled her brother out on the dance floor to an old country favorite of hers. “I wish Annie could have stayed, I was counting on her to be your dance partner. She’s the only sister of Red’s not taken.”
“Yeah,” he said, with an over dramatic sigh. “Who wants to dance with her brother when she could be dancing with the guy that looks at her like a half-starved man staring at a bucket of hot-wings?”
“Oh please,” Tiffany said, giving him a sisterly eye-roll. “I know how difficult it is for you, but could you at least try to keep the smart-ass comments to a minimum?” When he answered her with a slight nod and a grin, she cocked her head to the side to study him. “What’s going on with you? You’re kind of quiet tonight.”