1-900-Lover. Rhonda Nelson

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СКАЧАТЬ why hadn’t he simply called? Why had he gone to the trouble to track her down? Common sense told her she should be alarmed, but the intense irritation stiffening every muscle in her body negated the logical emotion. Her eyes narrowed. Of all the damned nerve…

      “I’m here because you had phone sex with my nephew,” he retorted angrily. “My underage nephew.”

      Rowan’s first impulse was to deny the charge—she knew perfectly well that she hadn’t had phone sex with a minor…but she had talked to one.

      The flash of insight jimmied an exasperated grunt from her throat and she managed a slight smile. “You’re Scott’s uncle, aren’t you?” She’d been expecting this. Not this as in a visit, but at least that explained why he’d gone to the trouble to find her. She relaxed marginally. Things were beginning to make sense.

      His lips twisted into another annoying smirk. “I’m impressed, Ms. Crosswhite. For a thousand dollars you should remember his name.”

      The smart-ass was making it damned hard to forget her self-righteous anger, Rowan thought, heartily annoyed. Pity she couldn’t forget how gorgeous he was. “I remember his name because he called me several times.”

      “I know.” He fished what she recognized as his phone bill from the back pocket of his shorts and ran an eye over it. She watched in a sort of drunken fascination as his lips moved, counting off the calls. “Six times, to be precise.”

      Rowan pushed her hair over her shoulder and assumed a negligent pose, struggled to detach her gaze from those distracting lips. “That sounds about right.”

      “Did you realize that he was underage? Or did you just not care?”

      Rowan knew that he had every reason to be upset, particularly since he was laboring under the mistaken assumption that she’d had phone sex with his nephew. Nevertheless, she didn’t appreciate the sarcasm or the censure, and she sure as hell didn’t appreciate being tracked down at her house, having her privacy violated.

      “Yes, I knew he was underage—”

      His lips curled without humor and he rocked back on his heels. “Then you just didn’t care. But you will care, Ms. Crosswhite, when his parents prosecute you.”

      Rowan felt her eyes widen. “You’re probably right. However, being as I’ve done nothing to be prosecuted for, then I don’t have anything to worry about, do I?”

      “Phone sex with a minor—”

      Her patience snapped and she barely stifled the urge to scream. “I didn’t have phone sex with your nephew, Mr. Foster,” Rowan all but growled. “I helped him with his science homework.”

      For a split second his face went comically blank, then a smug disbelieving smile drifted over his too-gorgeous lips. “And what were you doing with Roy, I wonder?” he drawled lazily. “Teaching him the difference between a consonant and a vowel?”

      Renewed embarrassment flooded her cheeks and while she had appreciated the fact that he owned a sense of humor, she didn’t appreciate it being at her expense. Rowan pulled in a deep calming breath and called upon her past experience with irate parents to see her through this provoking scene. She’d dealt with enough of them over the years to handle this, she told herself. One of them had to remain professional, and clearly it wasn’t him.

      “Have you spoken to Scott?” she asked, striving for a calm she didn’t feel. “Have you asked him what happened?”

      “No, I haven’t.” A muscle jumped in his tense jaw. “Since I’ll have to tell his mother first, it’s not a conversation that I’m looking forward to.”

      “Well, you can handle that however you want to,” she retorted, “but as for my part, I have proof that I didn’t have phone sex with Scott, Mr. Foster.” And she did, thank God, Rowan thought, immensely relieved.

      A perplexed line emerged between his brows. “Proof?”

      “I have a record feature on my phone. For safety reasons,” she clarified at his astounded look. Honestly. “Kooks, weirdoes, harassment—”

      Comprehension dawned and he nodded abruptly.

      “Anyway, when I realized that Scott was underage—which was almost immediately—I hit record.” She pulled a shrug. “In fact, I’ve recorded every conversation with Scott and will have to insist that you listen to them, just so there’s no misunderstanding. I thought I might hear from an outraged parent—or an uncle, as it’s turned out—though, frankly, I thought that I’d receive a phone call.” She pinned him with a weighty stare. “Which brings me back to my first question—how did you get my name and address?” she persisted. “How did you find me? Because to be quite honest with you, Mr. Foster, it, uh… It kind of freaks me out.”

      And it did. Anonymity had been her first line of defense. Only one other person knew about her side-job—her best friend, Alexa, and Rowan knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Alexa hadn’t betrayed her confidence. Her friend was one of those rare souls who could actually keep a secret.

      But if this guy found her this easily, who was to say that another guy couldn’t? One without an understandable cause? It completely unnerved her. In this case, Rowan could easily see what had happened. His nephew had made the calls and, in addition to paying for them, he’d have to tell the kid’s parents. She grimaced. Not fun, she’d agree. Nevertheless…

      For the first time he seemed to consider that he’d made a mistake, a tactical error of sorts and he knew it. He shifted uneasily, rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, and shot her an uncomfortable look. “I, uh… I have a friend in the P.I. business,” he reluctantly admitted. “He made a few calls.”

      She cocked her head and shrewdly considered him. “I see. I’m assuming since this friend was able to give you my name and address, he also had my regular telephone number.” She paused, and was rewarded when he started to squirm. “And yet you still decided that a visit was in order.”

      He winced, looked out over her garden, then shot her a sheepish smile. That half grin had to be one of the sexiest things she’d ever seen and it had the singular ability to drain every bit of the irritation still inhabiting her spine. “I was pissed.”

      Oh, she’d just bet he was, Rowan thought, resisting the urge to smile herself. “Well, since you’re here, you should probably listen to those tapes.”

      He started. “Right.”

      Without waiting to see if he followed her, Rowan turned and headed toward the house. For some unknown reason, her stomach did a little anticipation-overload flop, and the back of her nape prickled with awareness. An indication of just how pathetic she was, she decided with an inward harrumph of disgust.

      Jesus.

      This guy hadn’t tracked her down to follow through with an initial attraction—he’d come over here with the express purpose of chewing her up and spitting her out. He’d bared his big-bad-wolf teeth and had planned to make a meal out of her. One, by the looks of things, he’d fully intended to enjoy.

      Rowan darted a look over her shoulder and felt a perverse flame of heat lick her belly. She smiled and bit her lip.

      Pity she wasn’t ready to be served up on a platter…yet.

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