by Leger, Lori
“Martin,” she murmured.
Drake stared at the huge yellow cat, its amber eyes glowing in the near darkness of the room. The cat stared back at him, emitting a strange growl from its throat.
“Declawed front paws…harmless,” Annie whispered.
“Hmph…he might be declawed, but I’d be willing to bet he isn’t de-toothed, and that makes him far from harmless. That’s the biggest friggin domestic cat I’ve ever seen in my life. A veritable walking lawsuit!”
“Must not like you.”
“Well, hell—what’d I do to him?” Drake backed slowly toward the door, away from the growling cat.
“He’s old—protective.”
“And territorial as hell, obviously.” He leaned against the door jamb, relaxing a little once the cat jumped up on the bed with Annie. Drake watched in amazement, as the huge animal walked softly to her and stretched out a paw to touch her gently on the head, almost as if checking her for a temperature. He nuzzled her hair then settled right up against her shoulders and head, and immediately began to purr loudly.
“Annie…” He didn’t know what to make of the scene before him.
Her whispered reply shocked him into silence. “Shhh—he knows it helps me.”
Drake stood for several minutes watching the scene before him, listening, as Annie’s breathing evened out and she fell into a deep, hopefully painless sleep. The cat’s purring lowered in volume as well, and Drake pulled the door closed except for a small crack.
He walked into the living room then reached over to turn on a lamp, perusing the tidy room and its contents. One word came to mind—cozy. Although the well-worn leather sofa and loveseat were both beginning to show their age, they were high quality, the end tables, solid wood and holding weighty brass lamps with bell-shaped shades. The walls and trim work of the room had been painted in shades that brought to mind scenes of Tuscany—in deep gold, muted green, and terra cotta.
The smell of leather bound books lining the shelves, all well-worn and looking as if they’d been handled repeatedly over the years, permeated his senses. He surveyed the room, checked out the various family portraits and framed pictures of Annie as an adorable child, posing for the camera and wearing big cheesy grins.
Drake made his way into the kitchen and saw what seemed to be professional grade cookware hanging on a rack above the flat surfaced island range. Large glass canisters containing sugar, flour, and pasta lined the counter top, while smaller ones contained coffee and various types of teabags. The kitchen looked as homey and cozy as the living room. More importantly, the room looked as if it was used on a regular basis, unlike his. He lifted his nose, trying to identify the source of some luscious aroma, and found it, a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies covered in plastic wrap. He took one and bit into it, savoring the crunchy goodness as a multitude of flavors hit his tongue. God, I hope she baked these.
Drake walked back into the living room and relaxed on the soft, broken-in leather sofa. He popped the rest of the cookie into his mouth and leaned forward to browse through a stack of magazines on the coffee table. Good Housekeeping, a fitness magazine, tropical birds, and a trade magazine for physical therapists. Exhausted and heavy eyed, he checked his watch—just before ten. Enough time to stretch out on the sofa for a short nap. He’d be back at Red’s club well before midnight …
Subconsciously, he picked up another presence. Sounds, foreign to him—a light fluttering, and tapping against metal. He breathed deeply, inhaling the aroma of something sinfully luscious and tantalizing, preempted by the hint of brewed coffee, rich and robust, tickling his senses—daring him to wake and open his eyes. He didn’t remember setting the timer on his coffee maker, but he must have. Trying to emerge from the asleep-awake state he lingered in, Drake heard a light snap at his midsection. Before he could open his eyes to investigate, a solid weight landed on his chest.
“Hu…humph!” The breath left him in a rush as he jerked upright, cursing, and swatting the muscular pile of feline fluff from his body until it hit the floor with a solid thump. Only then did he hear the distinctive feminine giggle. Drake’s eyes flew open, staring into the highly amused face of Annie McAllister.
He jumped to a standing position, glaring at the cat’s owner. “That thing’s a menace.” He growled low in his throat before dropping back onto the sofa. He breathed deeply, trying to regain his composure and slow the pounding of his heart. He blew out noisily, puffing his cheeks. “What time is it?”
“Four a.m.”
He jerked back up, shocked that he’d slept for six hours. “Jesus, Annie! Your family must be worried sick about you.”
She waved him off. “I called Red. He’d left a message on my phone asking where we were. Apparently, the fact that we disappeared at the same time was food for gossip and speculation all night long. I had to explain to him about the migraine. I hope he believed me.”
Drake cocked an eyebrow. “Do you normally give your brother reason to doubt you?”
“Only when you’re around, it seems,” she snapped.
He gave her a wink. “That’s because everyone but you can see what’s between us.”
“You mean the endless supply of annoying animosity?”
“Ah, now don’t forget the arrogance and pompousness.” He smiled, sending her a wink to go along with it.
“As if –I—could.”
He couldn’t help but notice the catch in her breath—the telltale falter in her indignant reply as her gaze locked onto his grinning mouth. Not quite as impenetrable as she likes to think she is. Then he saw it. The stiffening of her spine, the steel resolve and careless one-shouldered shrug perfected by years of practice, no doubt. If she only knew how bad he got off on a challenge. It took some effort to keep the laughter at bay. This was going to be so much damn fun. Bring it on, Annie Girl.
“Seriously, Drake. I’m happy alone. I’m independent for the first time in my life, and accountable to no one but God and myself.”
“Yeah, I know. Your freedom, to do what you want, with whomever you want, at any time it’s convenient for you. Blah, blah, blah. You are woman, hear you roar.” His eyes sparkled with unhidden humor.
“I’m glad you find me wanting to live my life free of complications so damn funny.”
“About as funny as you making your cat scare the crap out of me a few minutes ago.”
“Martin has a mind of his own.”
“Bullshit. I heard you snapping your fingers. You made that mangy animal jump on me.”
Annie bent down to pick up the cat and brought its face up to hers. “Martin is not mangy, are you fat boy? You’re a handsome devil, aren’t you? Yes, you are.”
Drake watched, in disbelief, as the cat reached his paws up to touch both sides of her face softly, then rubbed his head affectionately under her chin. Whatever else he was, he was clearly fond of his mistress. “Honestly, that’s the biggest cat I’ve ever seen. What do you feed him, small children?”
She grinned up at Drake before leaning over to place Martin gently on the floor. “Nah, I used to feed him attorneys, but there wasn’t enough nutritional value. Turns out they’re all just a bunch of hot air. Now I just feed him the cat food his vet recommends.”
Drake pointed a finger at her. “Good one, Ms. McAllister. I take it you’re feeling better?”
“Yes, I am. Want some coffee, or is it too early for you?” She headed for the kitchen.
Drake watched her retreat, marveling again at the tightly toned little body, clad in a long sleeved, fitted tee-shirt she’d tucked in to her belted jeans. Her light auburn hair was pulled back in a damp ponytail. “Coffee would be good, thanks. I’m always up at this time, anyway. Did you shower already?”
Annie pulled two cups from the cabinet. “Yeah.”
Something in her murmured reply made him think about the situation he’d found her in last night. After being raped, a woman’s first instinct was to scrub all traces of the attacker from her body. “Anni
e, are you all right? I mean, that guy—he didn’t, did he? I got there before he had a chance to—hurt you, right?”
“I’m okay.” She spoke quietly. “Just angry at myself.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew better, that’s why. As soon as that guy made an appearance, I should have gone back into the club. The migraine progressed so suddenly. Usually I have time to get home.”
“Can you talk about it?”
She took a deep breath before plunging headlong into the story, talking at a brisk pace, as though she’d lose momentum if she spoke too slowly. “After he threw me in that truck bed, I made myself take a good look at him, in case I got the chance to identify him. When I looked up, I saw you next to him. That’s when you—”
“Proceeded to beat the living hell out of him,” Drake seethed. “God, I can’t believe I left without getting his ID out of his wallet.” He reached out to touch a long tendril of her hair. “I just wanted you pain-free.”
Annie turned slowly toward him. “And I thank you for that, but I’m asking you again not to breathe a word of this to Red.”
Drake took her gently by the arms and turned her to face him. “Why, Annie? Somebody needs to do something about that guy. What if he tries that with someone else and succeeds?”
Annie pulled away from him then froze, as though remembering something. “Or what if he already has? Oh, God, what have I done?”
Drake frowned at the despair in her voice. “What’s wrong?”
“I think he’s done it before and got caught. Something he said—something about them not finding any evidence on his truck this time. In Arkansas. The scumbag is from Arkansas. Oh God, he’ll keep on doing that. We might have been able to put him away.” She stared at him, her eyes glazed with tears. “If he does it again, it’ll be my fault. I was selfish. I didn’t want Red to know because he would have told dad, and they never would have left me alone because of—because I’m the youngest.”
Drake’s people reading skills were too sharp to miss her confession’s obvious change in direction. “What happened to make them over-protective of you?”
She pivoted to walk away. “I’ll need to pick up my vehicle. Can you drop me off at the club on your way home?”
He followed her into the kitchen. “I’ll just ask Red—he’ll tell me, you know.”
Annie swung around to face him. “He might, but if you’re trying to score points with me that sure as hell won’t do it.”
Her tone said she wasn’t fooling around.
Well, hell. His dad always told him he had the patience and diplomacy of a jack-ass caught in a hail storm. It looked like he’d have to work on that. He sighed, temporarily accepting defeat before he approached her. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I know it’s none of my business, but maybe it’ll help to talk about it and get it off your chest.”
“Trust me when I tell you it won’t.”
“Trust is a two way street, Annie.”
Annie’s blue eyes pinned him in place. “Will you take me to pick up my truck, or not?”
He nodded slowly. “Could I have that cup of coffee first? I’m seriously addicted to caffeine.”
She seemed to relax as she turned toward the coffee maker. “I was about to cook myself some bacon and eggs. I can cook extra if you’re hungry.”
“I’m starving. So, you really do cook in that kitchen?”
She pulled a carton of eggs from the fridge. “What’s the matter, Drake? Don’t people cook where you come from?”
“I used my kitchen in Houston. I cooked eggs—baked pizzas occasionally, that sort of thing.”
“How about the women you dated? Didn’t any of them ever cook a meal for you?” She placed several thin slices of bacon in a preheated pan.
Drake snorted before bursting out into laughter. “Honey, the women I dated survived on green salads, fat free Greek yogurt, and Evian. They probably use their ovens for storage.”
Annie shook her head. “That is so sad.”
He grinned. “I can’t argue with you, there. It is sad, I don’t know how they survive.”
She frowned at him. “I mean, it’s sad that you’re actually attracted to those women. Says a lot about your tastes.”
He shrugged. “Tastes change, obviously. Even before I met you, I’d gotten bored with that type.”
“Why?” She reached into a cabinet and produced two coffee mugs, both emblazoned with the LSU logo. “Pick one.”
He studied the mugs for a moment, almost said something but the smirk on her face stopped him. He took the one without the picture of the LSU stadium plastered across it. As a season ticket holder for Texas A&M, the thought of drinking out of a “Death Valley” mug irked the ever loving shit out of him. He waited until she turned her attention to the sizzling bacon, and opened the same cabinet door—traded the offensive mug for one from a set of plain dark blue stoneware mugs. By the time he poured his coffee and turned to face her, she was standing there, arms crossed and one eyebrow quirked in amusement.
“Something wrong with the mug I gave you?”
He leaned against the cabinet and took a sip of hot coffee. “This one seems to suit me better.”
She clucked her tongue. “What are you, a Longhorn fan?”
“God no! Aggies all the way.”
Her face scrunched in distaste. “Worse! Much worse. Like, I said. It says a lot for your tastes.”
He shrugged. “It was local for me, and I’m a season ticket holder. I could probably be lured to the dark side—by the right girl.”
“If you’re looking for a girl, you might want to hit up Kenton High. Besides, A&M is the dark side. You need to come over to the light. Start bleeding purple and gold like the rest of the good people of Louisiana. Either that, or go back to Aggie Land.” She turned around. “It’s where you belong anyway.”
“I’m thinking more and more, that I belong right here with you.”
She ignored his comment. “How do you like your eggs?”
“Scrambled is fine, thanks.”
“You know it won’t happen with me, don’t you?”
“What I know is that I’ll die trying, because you’re worth it.”
“Yet, you’re willing to incur my wrath by insulting my entire family’s team? You’re off to a hell of a start, counselor.” She cracked five eggs into a bowl and started whisking them.
He shot for a quick, but favorable change of subject, one to steer them away from rival college football teams. “How’d you learn to cook, Annie? Did you take lessons?”
She stopped, turned to stare at him, her mouth pulled tight. “Seriously?” She shook her head. “Wow. Your privileged upbringing is showing, Drake. I learned from watching my mom. You know—cooking, cleaning, doing chores around the house. Those quaint little things people who aren’t filthy rich do to pass their terribly mundane days.”
He took a couple of sips of his coffee to fuel himself before forming a reply. “It’s not like we had butlers or anything, Annie. Tiffany and I had Melinda to take care of us. She cooked for us, washed our clothes, got us to practices and school events. A housekeeper came in a couple of times a week to take care of the rest of the place. Catering services came in when our mother entertained. Other than that, our parents ate most of their meals in restaurants.”
“You had a nanny, Drake—”
“And you—” his voice took on the sharp edged tone she seemed to bring out it him, “—had two parents who were actively involved in your life, who showed you affection. You really think Tiffany and I wouldn’t have given our eye teeth to live like that?” He shook his head, tired of her judgmental attitude. “So, which one of us here grew up more privileged?” Annie’s eyes widened at his reprimand and she backed down immediately.
“I’m sorry. You’re right.” Without another word, she turned her attention to their meal.
He kept himself from gloating over the fact that she’d actually apologized to him for something�
�admitted to being wrong.
In minutes they were eating their morning meal. Only slightly sorry for snapping at her, Drake looked up at the fresh-faced beauty seated across from him. “Happy New Year, Annie.”
She nodded. “You too.”
“You know,” he drawled. “It’s customary to kiss whe—”
“Forget it.” She bit into a slice of bacon.
He sighed. “You can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“I can do anything I want to. I am woman, hear me roar, remember? I am strong … I am invincible.” She put her fork down and flexed both her arms.
He reached out and squeezed her tightly packed biceps. “That’s impressive. You’ve got serious muscle definition for as tiny as you are. Do you lift weights?”
“Some, but my work is my real strength training.”
“Speaking of strength training, I find myself without a gym membership. Do you have any suggestions?”
She pointed her fork at him. “You’ll need a hair stylist. I’ve noticed your hair’s longer than you used to wear it.”
He laughed at her attempt to change the subject. “Haven’t had time for a haircut, besides, I’m not at the firm anymore. I can be a little less strict about it. My main concern is a gym. Can you recommend one?”
Annie stared at the sexy dimple in his chin, then moved on to his full lips. When she saw one side of his mouth curve up seductively, she forced herself to look away. “Did you say something?”
“Suggestions—on a gym I could join?”
“Guys on Enterprise is supposed to be pretty good.”
“Is that where you work out?”