by Leger, Lori
Tiffany McAllister jumped out of her chair at his approach. “There’s my little brother!” She hugged him tightly then pointed at a chair next to her.
Drake exchanged greetings with all the familiar faces at the tables then seated himself. “Great crowd, Sis. I’d say this has all the makings of a successful dance club.” He scanned the room. “Is all the family here?”
Tiffany grinned at Drake. “Annie’s on the dance floor.”
Drake nodded, trying to look nonchalant. “Did she come with anyone in particular?”
Tiffany leaned closer to him. “You mean is she alone, or with a date?”
He gave her a cocky smile. “Whether or not she’s got a date is of no concern.”
“I call bullshit, little brother. We all know how you feel about her.”
“I know how I feel about her, too. All I’m saying is I’m not worried.” The music stopped suddenly. He straightened his collar and cleared his throat. “It’ll just make her realize how dim the competition is when compared to me,” he drawled. A feminine voice cut through his calm composure like a machete through rice paper.
“Someone got an early start on the pompous-ass-act tonight.”
He turned, focused on the crystalline blue eyes of Annie McAllister. His stomach knotted with excitement, despite the angry glare she flashed. He dropped his gaze to encompass shapely, stocking-clad legs in stiletto heels. As usual, trying to add a few inches to her just-under-five-foot frame. Her short, black leather skirt hugged her hips enticingly, torturing him further. A modestly cut, cream colored sweater clung tightly to her tiny waist. Once again, he marveled at this tightly packed little body. Thoughts of the sight before him kept him awake nights. If he fell asleep long enough, most times he woke drenched with sweat from dreaming about her. Drake leaned forward to catch her fragrance, a soft scent, uniquely hers and appealing as all get out. “Annie, you always bring to mind the old phrase ‘dynamite comes in small packages,’” he drawled, while nodding appreciatively.
“You bring one to mind as well. ‘An ounce of pretension is worth a pound of manure.’” She turned to sit in the one remaining chair across from him and shook her head in disgust. “You’re so pretentious it doesn’t even bother you that I think you’re pretentious.”
“I’m not pretentious, Annie. I’m just sure of myself, that’s all.”
“See? That’s pretentious,” she accused.
“It’s confidence.”
“In what?”
“In the knowledge that there’s not another man out there who can make you feel the things I will one day.”
“It’ll never happen, Drake.”
He leaned across the table and placed a light touch on the inside of her wrist. “I don’t know why you keep fighting this, Annie. I was there, I know what you felt that night.”
She pulled her hand out of his reach, trying to ignore the jolt of sensation his touch created. “That was a combination of exhaustion and too much alcohol.” One beer? Liar.
Drake pushed his chair back slowly and rose, making his way to her side of the table. “You are so dead set against giving yourself the chance to be happy.” He leaned closer. “I could completely satisfy you, in more ways than you can count.”
She shivered at his Texas-sexy drawl.
“Come on, Annie. Dance with me. They’re playing our song.” He held his hand out to her. “You remember this one, don’t you … Nicole?”
She caught the introductory piano melody to the tune she’d only played a hundred times since that fateful night at Red’s club in Lafayette a month earlier. Three dances. Three dances with a complete stranger had changed everything—and not for the better. Especially when she finally discovered said stranger was younger brother to her future sister in law, Tiffany. Why hadn’t she given him her real name that night? Why hadn’t she put it together earlier—like before she’d practically had vertical sex with him on the dance floor?
She couldn’t risk getting that close to him again. The man was dangerous. She turned away from his outstretched hand. “No. And if you ask again, the answer will still be no.” She rose from the table, and in a desperate effort not to throw herself shamefully at him, she ran like hell. She pushed open the powder room door and plopped down with an agitated huff on the couch situated against one wall. She looked up, catching her sister-in-law’s curious gaze via the floor to ceiling wall of mirror.
Jules popped open her compact and began applying lipstick. “What’s wrong with you?”
Julia’s daughter, Miranda, grinned slyly. “I’d bet it has something to do with that hunky Texas attorney sitting at our table.”
Annie rolled her eyes in frustration. “Having him around is going to ruin every family function for me for the rest of my life. Gawd, but he’s arrogant.”
“Maybe you ought to just drop your defenses and see if there’s something worth looking into. Drake is an absolute doll,” Miranda purred, as her mother nodded in agreement.
“Don’t defend Beelzebub’s progeny to me,” Annie spat, before covering her head with both hands and groaning. “This is it. I’m in hell.”
Julia threw her compact and lipstick into her clutch purse and snapped it shut. “You’re upset because he makes you feel things you don’t want to. You have to admit he’s a nice guy, and he sure is easy on the eyes. With that sexy Texas accent of his, those big brown eyes, cleft chin, and thick, wavy hair—don’t be surprised if other women try to climb that cowboy.”
Miranda nodded. “Mom’s right, Aunt Annie. That’s a good-looking man. He runs a few times a week and I’d be willing to bet he visits a gym regularly. I saw him at Uncle Red’s a couple of days ago, and he was wearing jeans—you know the kind, worn in all the right places, and just tight enough to make you want to know what that faded denim was covering up.” She shook her head slowly. “And let me tell you, there was some serious definition going on under that ab-hugging tee shirt of his.”
Annie massaged her temples. “Oh God, I hope he doesn’t join Billie’s gym on Ryan Street. I signed a two year contract and I don’t need him screwing up my workout time.”
Drake kept a close eye on the bathroom door in case Annie tried to slip out on him again. He’d waited all week for this night, determined to get her to dance with him again. Barring that, he’d be satisfied with conversation—anything to get her to loosen up around him. He’d screwed up royally by not revealing his identity to her until Christmas lunch at Red’s a week earlier. Crappy luck had it happening in front of the entire McAllister family—over two dozen of them. Miranda left the ladies room, and he smiled as she sat beside him.
She gave him a light tap to his shoulder. “Have you had time to join a gym yet by any chance, Drake?”
He frowned. “No, but I think my feelings are hurt. Does it look like I need to?”
“Absolutely not, but Annie recently signed a two year contract with Billie’s Gym on Ryan Street.” She twirled her hair and batted her eyelashes innocently.
“Well, that’s a mighty helpful tidbit of info, Miranda. Thanks, I owe you one.”
“Just doing my Christian duty to help you get settled in.” She sent him a wink before reclaiming her seat a few spots over.
Julia returned to the table next, making a quick stop at Drake’s chair. “Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, from five to seven.” She took the seat next to her daughter.
“Excuse me?” Drake asked.
“That’s when Annie works out at Billie’s Gym.”
Drake beamed down the table at the two women. “I love this family.”
By the time Annie left the powder room, Drake was out on the dance floor with Julia. She watched them doing a Texas two-step and remembered how it had felt to dance with him. She closed her eyes…could still see his smile, his penetrating gaze, and the kiss. Oh God. That kiss.
If she could just go back and erase those fifteen minutes of her life, she would do it in a heartbeat. Those three dances had ruined everything. Annie sh
ook her head in frustration. Why hadn’t she put it together sooner? The strong family resemblance…that east Texas accent…the fact that they were waiting on Tiffany and her brother from Houston to walk in the club any minute? The worst part of all of this? She had no one to blame but herself. If she’d only given her real name, she wouldn’t be slap dab in the middle of this mess…drooling…lusting over a man she could never have. Check that. A man she would never choose to have. Lord knows all she had to do was say the word and he’d come running. Don’t think about it.
She turned her attention to the dance floor, watched him move Jules smoothly around the room, and let herself mourn the fact that she’d never experience that with him again. She couldn’t let him that close to her. He was too dangerous—just one of many pitfalls she’d so carefully avoided over the years. She’d let herself care for someone once, a long time ago, and it had very nearly cost her everything.
The flash in front of her eyes was the first sign of the debilitating migraine. The dizziness was the second. She put one hand over her closed eyes and tried to breathe deeply, praying the pain wouldn’t come. Knowing time was of the essence, she grabbed her purse and leaned over to tell Miranda she was leaving.
Miranda gave her aunt a look of concern. “Do you need me to drive you home?”
“No, I think I can make it. Tell everyone I said Happy New Year, and I’ll see them tomorrow at Red’s and Tiffany’s.” Annie stood, gripping the table in an attempt to steady herself. She took a deep breath and began the walk to the exit. As soon as she reached the cool air outside, the pain hit her, along with the nausea. She leaned against the brick column to rest. The door opened behind her and she was too sick to worry if it was Drake.
“What do we have here? You okay, honey?”
Annie focused on the owner of the masculine voice, stared into the face of a stranger. He wasn’t quite six foot tall, but was seriously built, like steroids built. But he didn’t particularly look like a nice guy. Alarm bells went off in her head, but the pain caused her to make the first stupid mistake of the night.
“I-I’ve got to get to my car. I’m sick.”
“Why don’t you let me help you, sweetheart? Here, lean on me.”
The pain blinded her momentarily and she knew this was one of those rare migraines that wouldn’t let up easily. “Have a migraine. I can’t see,” she mumbled, making her second mistake.
The stranger chuckled deep in his chest. “Can’t see, huh? This night’s gettin’ better and better.”
A chill ran down Annie’s spine as she realized the implications of the man’s statement. Even in debilitating pain, she knew she was in trouble. “I think I better go back inside and get my brother, he owns this club.”
“Sure he does, baby—and I’m the Prince of Persia.”
“No, really. Red is my brother and…wh..wha…what are you doing?” Suddenly the breath left her in a whoosh as the man picked her up and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Honey, you don’t weigh nothin’, do you? You’re as light as a bird. This won’t take long at all.”
Annie tried to scream, but couldn’t catch her breath. The pain from the rush of blood to her head was unbearable. “Put me down,” she pleaded, weakly.
“As soon as I get you where I want you, hon.”
Annie stiffened when his hand went up under her skirt. “Put me down! Somebody help me!” she screamed, even as her head throbbed with the effort.
“Ain’t nobody out here but you and me, hon. I do like a lady in leather and high heels, and you’re just the right size,” he drawled. “We don’t grow ‘em this pretty in Arkansas.”
Truly terrified now, Annie tried to scream again, but her abductor bounced her roughly on his shoulder, and it momentarily knocked the wind out of her. Pain sliced through her head, and she groaned loudly.
“Oh, yeah. I like the sound of that.” He reached a pickup truck behind the club. “I think this spot’ll do just fine. Ain’t nobody gonna find any evidence on my truck this time.” He lowered the tailgate and dropped her roughly on the truck bed, making her head bounce painfully on the surface.
“Stop it! Help me!” She screamed loudly, ignoring the pain, and scratched at his face and eyes.
“Shut the hell up, would you honey? You know you want this, dressed like you are. Hell, you’re just asking for it.”
Annie grabbed both sides of her head in an attempt to stop the throbbing. She forced herself to open her eyes and look her attacker in the face, knowing she’d need to be able to pick him out of a line up if she ever got the chance. She stared at two faces, thinking for a second she was seeing double, until Drake’s voice came out of one.
“Son of a bitch! What did you do to her?”
Annie heard a surprised yelp then several thuds, like fists hitting flesh. She heard someone else groan, another series of thuds, then silence.
“Annie, are you alright? What did he do to you? I’ll kill the son of a bitch if he hurt you!”
“Drake?”
“Yeah. Where’d he hurt you?”
“My head…Migraine…Bad one. I’m going to be sick.” Drake helped her to sit up.
“Move,” she managed to say. He supported her weight as she became violently ill. Afterward, she clutched her head with both hands. “Oh God. Oh God. I need to get home. Just get me to my truck.”
“You’re shittin’ me, right? There’s no way you could drive home, besides, I need to go report this son of a bitch to someone. He was about to—he nearly …” Drake’s voice trailed off, then he swore loudly, kicked the unconscious man in the side once more for good measure before releasing a fairly creative conglomeration of curse words.
Drake forced himself to calm down. “You can’t drive. Wait here and I’ll get Red.”
“No.” She groaned then leaned over to throw up again. She pitched forward, obviously too weak to keep herself in an upright position.
He grabbed her. “Hold on, Annie girl, I have you.” He held her hair away from her face with one hand as he supported her with another. “Damn, you really do have bad migraines, don’t you?”
She answered in a weak, shaky voice. “Yeah…need to go home…medicine’s at home.”
“You don’t carry it with you?” he asked, incredulously.
“Forgot…different purse.” She groaned and grabbed her head again. “Please, Drake. Get me home.”
“Okay, okay, Annie. I’ll get you home.” When she tried to walk, she stumbled, so Drake gently scooped her up into his arms and carried her to his Denali truck.
“Purse?” The single word came out in a hoarse whisper.
“I have it. I found it on the ground just outside the door. That must have been where he got to you. I should have taken his I.D. from his wallet. I need to go back and get it, Annie.”
“No. Please. Home.”
“Okay—shhh—okay, I’m bringing you home. You live in Kenton, right? What’s your address?”
“One twenty-two, White Oak Drive,” she mumbled.
Once he got her buckled in he started the truck and spoke the address into his On Star navigation system. It began to give him directions to Annie’s house as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket to call Red.
“Don’t tell Red, please.”
Drake swung around to look at her. Her head was turned in his direction, but her eyes were closed. He caught his breath when he saw a single tear run down her cheek. “Why not, Annie?”
“Don’t want anyone to know. Won’t let me be after this.”
“I need him to go see if that guy is still out there. He needs to be thrown in jail for what he tried to do.”
“Please. Don’t talk. Please.”
Another tear trailed down her cheek and he didn’t have the heart to deny her. He closed his phone and kept driving in silence. He had to stop once because she was sick and didn’t want to throw up in his truck. When they arrived at the destination thirty minutes later, Annie had fallen i
nto a fitful sleep, sometimes moaning in pain as she grabbed her head.
“Annie, is this your place?” Drake gently roused her. She opened her eyes, looked around and nodded. Drake got her keys out of her purse and found the one marked ‘house-front door’. He stepped down from the truck then scooped her up into his arms. “Do you have a roommate?”
“Martin and Lewis…pets.”
“Martin and Lewis?” He stopped in front of her door. “Is either of those a bull mastiff, or pit bull, or something?”
“Harmless,” she murmured.
He nodded and unlocked her front door. She’d left the under cabinet lighting on in her kitchen, so there was enough dim light for him to see without turning on anything extra. He knew her eyes would be sensitive to light.
Drake jumped as a shrill voice yelled, “Hey lady! I’m home!” He turned to see a large grey bird in a huge cage.
“Aaannie…Aaannie…is that you? Hey la-dy! Squawk…”
“Let me guess, that’s Lewis, right?” he commented. “Where’s Martin?”
“Probably in bed,” she murmured. “I can walk.”
“Hell no, where’s your bedroom?” She pointed and he started down the hallway. There was a nightlight on and Drake placed her gently on the side of the bed. “Where’s your medicine, Annie? I’ll get it for you.”
“Bathroom.” She pointed to a door. “Medicine cabinet…injection.”
Drake walked through a door into a small, but immaculately clean bathroom. He found the medicine cabinet and opened it, scanning the contents. He picked up a case with a prescription tag on it, saw that it was for severe migraines and brought it quickly to her.
Drake watched as she opened the case and loaded a cartridge into the injector. Her hands shook as she tried to tear open a packet containing an alcohol pad. Drake took it from her, tore it open easily.
“Where do you want the injection?” When she pointed to her upper left arm, Drake swabbed it with the alcohol pad and scanned the instructions before injecting the medication.
“Now, lay down.” He helped her into bed and tucked her in. She looked miserable with her eyes closed, and hands clutched to both sides of her head. Drake leaned over to check on her. “Are you still nauseous?” When she nodded, he brought the empty trash can from the bathroom and set it on the floor directly in front of her. He leaned over, about to ask if she needed anything else, when something large and heavy jumped on his back. “What the…Ho..o..ly sh..ii..it!” Drake jerked up and turned in one quick movement so that the ‘thing’ fell onto the floor with a heavy thump. “A cat? You have an attack cat? Son-of-a-bitch!”