Terms of Engagement. Ann Major

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “You owe me nothing,” she said coolly.

      “I don’t blame you in the least for avoiding me all these weeks. I probably scared the hell out of you.”

      “I haven’t been avoiding you. Not really,” she murmured, but a telltale flush heated her neck as she thought of the family dinners she’d opted out of because she’d known he’d be there.

      If only she could run now, escape him. But Jaycee needed her, so instead, she hedged. “I’ve been busy.”

      “Waitressing?”

      “Yes! I’m helping out Betty, my best friend, while I interview for museum jobs. Opening a restaurant on the San Antonio River Walk was a lifetime dream of hers. She got busier faster than she expected, and she offered me a job. Since I waited tables one summer between college semesters, I’ve got some experience.”

      He smiled. “I like it that you’re helping your friend realize her dream even though your career is stalled. That’s nice.”

      “We grew up together. Betty was our housekeeper’s daughter. When we got older my mother kept hoping I’d outgrow the friendship while Daddy helped Betty get a scholarship.”

      “I like that you’re generous and loyal.” He hesitated. “Your pictures don’t do you justice. Nor did my memory of you.”

      His blue eyes gleamed with so much appreciation her cheeks heated. “Maybe because the last time I saw you I was slathered in mud.”

      He smiled. “Still, being a waitress seems like a strange job for a museum curator, even if it’s temporary. You did major in art history at Princeton and completed that internship at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I believe you graduated with honors.”

      She had no idea how she’d done so well, but when her grades had thrilled her father, she’d worked even harder.

      “Has Daddy, who by the way, has a bad habit of talking too much, told you my life history?”

      For a long moment, Quinn didn’t confirm her accusation or deny it.

      “Well, is that where you learned these details?”

      “If he talked about you, it was because I was curious and asked him.”

      Not good. She frowned as she imagined her parents complaining about her disappointments since Princeton during all those family dinners she’d avoided.

      “Did my father tell you that I’ve had a hard time with a couple of museum directors because they micromanaged me?”

      “Not exactly.”

      “I’ll bet. He takes the boss’s side because he’s every bit as high-handed and dictatorial. Unfortunately, one night after finishing the setup of a new show, when I was dead tired, the director started second-guessing my judgment about stuff he’d already signed off on. I made the mistake of telling him what I really thought. When there were budget cuts, you can probably guess who he let go.”

      “I’m sorry about that.”

      “I’m good at what I do. I’ll find another job, but until I do, I don’t see why I shouldn’t help Betty. Unfortunately, my father disagrees. We frequently disagree.”

      “It’s your life, not his.”

      Her thoughts exactly. Having him concur was really sort of annoying, since Quinn was supposed to be the enemy.

      In the conversational lull, she noticed that his spectacular physique was elegantly clad in a dark gray suit cut to emphasize every hard sinew of his powerful body. Suddenly, she wished she’d dressed up. Then she caught herself. Why should she care about looking her best for a man she should hate, when her appearance was something she rarely thought about?

      All she’d done today was scoop her long, dark hair into a ponytail that cascaded down her back. Still, when his eyes hungrily skimmed her figure, she was glad that she’d worn the loosely flowing white shirt and long red scarf over her tight jeans because the swirls of cloth hid her body.

      His burning gaze, which had ignited way too many feminine hormones, rose to her face again. When he smiled as he continued to stare, she bit her bottom lip to keep from returning his smile.

      Rising, he towered over her, making her feel small and feminine and lovely in ways she’d never felt lovely before. He moved toward her, seized her hand in his much larger one and shook it gently.

      “I’m very glad you decided to give me a second chance.”

      Why did his blunt fingers have to feel so warm and hard, his touch and gaze so deliciously intimate? She snatched her hand away, causing his eyes to flash with that pain he didn’t want her to see.

      “That’s not what this is.”

      “But you were avoiding me, weren’t you?”

      “I was,” she admitted and then instantly regretted being so truthful.

      “That was a mistake—for both of us.”

      When he asked her if she wanted coffee or a soda or anything at all to drink, she said no and looked out the windows at the sun sinking low against the San Antonio skyline. She couldn’t risk looking at him any more than necessary because her attraction seemed to be building. He would probably sense it and use it against her somehow.

      With some difficulty she reminded herself that she disliked him. So, why did she still feel hot and clammy and slightly breathless, as if there were a lack of oxygen in the room?

      It’s called chemistry. Sexual attraction. It’s irrational.

      Her awareness only sharpened when he pulled out a chair for her and returned to his own. Sitting down and crossing one long leg over the other, he leaned back again. The pose should have seemed relaxed, but as he concentrated on her she could see he wasn’t relaxed—he was intently assessing her.

      The elegant office became eerily silent as he stared. Behind the closed doors, she felt trapped. Leaning forward, her posture grew as rigid as his was seemingly careless.

      His hard, blue eyes held her motionless.

      “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this afternoon … or should I say this evening?” he asked in that pleasant tone that made her tremble with excitement.

      She imagined them on his megayacht, sailing silently across the vast, blue Gulf of Mexico. Her auburn hair would blow in the wind as he pulled her close and suggested they go below.

      “You’re my last appointment, so I can give you as much time as you want,” he said, thankfully interrupting her seduction fantasy.

      Her guilty heart sped up. Why had she come at such a late hour when he might not have another appointment afterward?

      The sky was rapidly darkening, casting a shadow across his carved face, making him look stark and feral, adding to the danger she felt upon finding herself alone with him.

      Even though her fear made her want to flee, СКАЧАТЬ