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  “Come on, little teacher,” he said, patting the cushion next to him. “We have to go over the schedule. Duncan has fifteen social events between now and Christmas. You’ll be with him at all of them.”

  He passed her one of the slim folders. “You got the background information, didn’t you?”

  She nodded, although she’d only read the basic bio. “Impressive. He put himself through college on a boxing scholarship.”

  Cameron’s hazel eyes widened slightly. “You sound surprised.”

  “I was. It’s not traditional.”

  “His uncle is Lawrence Patrick. The boxer.”

  “I’ve heard of him,” Julie said. “He’s, like, old, but he was really famous.”

  Annie had heard of him, as well. “Interesting family,” she said.

  “Duncan was raised by his uncle. It’s a fascinating story, one I’ll let him tell you himself. You’re going to be spending a lot of time together.”

  Not something Annie wanted to think about as she took the second folder Cameron offered. This one contained a questionnaire she was to fill out so Duncan could pretend to know all about her.

  What had she been thinking, agreeing to this craziness? But before she could even consider backing out of the deal—not that she would—Cameron had ushered them all to the stretch limo waiting to take them shopping.

  Five hours later, Annie was exhausted. She’d tried on dozens and dozens of dresses, blouses, pants and jackets. She’d stepped in and out of shoes, shrugged at small, shiny evening bags and endured a bra fitting from a very stern-looking older woman.

  Now she sat with foil in her hair, watching pink polish dry on her nails. When they’d moved from shopping to a day spa, she’d been relieved to know she could finally sit down.

  Cameron appeared with a glass of lemon water and a fruit-and-cheese plate.

  “Tired?” he asked sympathetically.

  “Beyond tired. I’ve never shopped so much in my life.”

  “People underestimate the energy required to power shop.” Cameron settled in the empty salon chair next to her. “Getting it right takes effort.”

  “Apparently.” While she’d thought all the outfits had fit okay, he’d insisted the store seamstress tuck and pin until they were perfect.

  Cameron handed her a sheet of paper. On it was a list of the outfits, followed by the shoes and bags that went with each. She laughed.

  “You must think I’m totally inept, although I’ll admit I’m not sure I could remember this myself.”

  “I couldn’t stand for you to clash. Putting a look together requires a lot of skills. It’s why the good stylists make the big bucks.”

  “So you’re famous?” she asked.

  He smiled modestly. “In my world. I have a few celebrity clients I keep happy. Several corporate types like Duncan, who want me to keep their wardrobes current without being trendy. Not that Duncan actually cares what he wears. He’s such a typical guy.”

  “How did you meet?”

  Cameron raised his eyebrows. “We were college roommates.”

  If Annie had been drinking her lemon water, she would have choked. “Seriously?”

  “I know. Hard to imagine. At least we never wanted to hook up with the same person. I was an art history major back then. I lasted a year before I realized fashion was my one true love. I moved to New York and tried to make it as a designer.” He sighed. “I don’t have the patience for creating. All that sewing. So not my thing. I took a job as a buyer at an upscale department store. Then I started working with the store’s really exclusive customers. The rest, as they say, is history.”

  Annie tried to imagine Duncan and Cameron sharing a college dorm room, but she couldn’t get her mind around the idea.

  “What about you?” he asked. “How did you get involved with the big bad?”

  “Is that what you call him?”

  “Not to his face. He might hit me.” But Cameron was smiling as he spoke and there was affection in his tone. “So what happened?”

  She told him about Tim and the money. “I couldn’t let my brother go to jail,” she said. “Not when there was a chance to save him.”

  “Honey, you are too nice by far. Be careful Duncan doesn’t chew you up and spit you out.”

  “You don’t have to worry. This is business. I’m not interested in him personally.”

  “Uh-huh. You say that now, but Duncan is very charismatic. A friendly word of advice. Don’t be fooled by the polite exterior. Duncan’s a fighter. You’re not. If there’s a battle, he’s going to win.”

  “You’re sweet to worry, but don’t. Even if I did fall for him—” something she couldn’t begin to imagine “—he wouldn’t respond. Seriously. I can’t imagine that I’m his type.”

  “You’re no Valentina.”

  “Who?”

  “Valentina. His ex-wife. Stunning, in a scary girl-snake kind of way. Cold. Remember that line from Pretty Woman? About being able to freeze ice on someone’s ass? That’s Valentina.”

  She was surprised to hear that Duncan had been married, although she probably shouldn’t be. He was successful and in his thirties. It made sense that he’d found someone.

  “How long have they been divorced?”

  “A couple of years. She scared me.” He shivered. “So enough about Duncan. What about you? Why isn’t a nice girl like you happily married?”

  She reached for a strawberry. A question for the ages, she thought glumly. “I’ve had two serious relationships. Both times the guy left, each claiming he saw me more as a friend than as the love of his life.”

  She spoke lightly, as if the words didn’t matter, as if she wasn’t still hurt. Not that she missed either one of them. Not anymore. But she was beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with her. Something missing. The two relationships had lasted a total of four and a half years. She’d been in love, or so she’d thought. She’d been able to imagine a future, marriage, children. Those men were the only two she’d slept with and for her, the sex had been fine. Maybe not as magical as she’d heard it described by friends or in books, but still very nice.

  But it hadn’t been enough. Not the sex or her heart or any of it. Both of them had left. And that they’d said practically the same thing had her wondering.

  “I don’t want to be the best friend,” she whispered fiercely.

  Cameron patted her hand. “Tell me about it.”

  Annie was grateful beyond words that Hector, the genius at the salon, had styled her hair for the evening. He’d blown out her usually curly hair into a sleek cascade of waves that fell past her shoulders. Hector’s assistant had done her makeup as well, so all she had to do was pull on the dress and step into the right shoes. Cameron had suggested a cocktail dress for the event. Now Annie stared at it and wondered if she had the nerve.

  The dress was simple enough—sleeveless with a sweetheart neckline. Fitted, although not tight, and falling midthigh. It was the latter that made her want to squirm as she stared at herself in the mirror above her dresser. If she kept the mirror straight, she looked fine. Of course she could only see herself from the waist up. If she tilted the mirror down, she could see to her ankles and there was way too much leg showing.

  Telling herself that by many standards, the dress wasn’t even that short didn’t help. She was used to skirts that fell closer to her ankles than her thighs. Of course, that was in the classroom where she was constantly bending over small desks or sitting on the floor. This was different.

  Unfortunately the girls weren’t around to ask. They’d gone out to the movies, leaving her to decide on her own. She could always change her clothes, but she didn’t know what else would be appropriate for the party.

  Before she could decide what to do, the doorbell rang. She glanced at the clock radio on her nightstand. Duncan was about ten minutes early. She would be wearing the dress she had on.

  She stepped into her high heels, teetered for a second, then walked into the liv
ing room. Not sure what Duncan was going to have to say or what to expect from the evening, she drew in a deep breath and pulled open the door.

  But the man standing there wasn’t her date and he didn’t look happy.

  “What the hell did you do?” Tim demanded as he pushed past her into the house. “Dammit, Annie, you don’t have the right to force me to go to one of those places.”

  “I see you finally decided to talk to me,” she said coolly. “I’ve been leaving messages for three days.” Ever since she and Duncan had made their deal.

  Her brother faced her, his blue eyes flashing with anger. “You had no right.”

  “To do what?” she asked, feeling her own temper rise. “Help? You got into this, Tim. You stole money from your boss. How could you?”

  He shifted slightly and dropped his gaze to the floor. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “I’m sure that’s true. You have a problem. It’s either rehab or jail.”

  “Thanks to you,” he said bitterly.

  She put her hands on her hips. “This is not my fault. I’m not the one who gambled and I’m not the one who told Duncan Patrick this house was yours. You stole and lied, Tim. You were willing to risk everything on a roll of the dice.”

  “I play cards.”

  “Whatever.”

  He glared at her. “You’re my sister, Annie. You’re supposed to help me, not throw me into some institution. What would Mom say?”

  A low blow, she thought, more resigned than angry. “She would think you’re a big disappointment. She would tell you that it was time to grow up and take responsibility.”

  Tim didn’t even flinch. “It doesn’t have to be like this,” he said. “You could mortgage the house. It’s half mine, anyway.”

  “It was half yours. I bought you out, remember? I’m tired of this, Tim. Tired of you expecting me to bail you out. I’ve always taken care of you and you’ve never been grateful or tried to change.”

  “You owe me.” Tim moved closer. He was a lot bigger and taller. “You’re going to mortgage the house, Annie. One way or the other. Do you hear me?”

  She was too surprised to be afraid. Before she could figure out what to do next, Duncan walked through the half-open door.

  “McCoy,” he said.

  Tim spun to face his boss. “What are you doing here?”

  “I have an appointment with your sister.”

  Tim swung back to Annie, then looked her up and down. “You’re going out with him?”

  She nodded.

  Tim’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “Figures. I’m getting screwed and you’re going on a date. Nice. Talk about ignoring your family.”

  The accusation burned down to her belly. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered. “This is about saving our family, something you don’t care about.”

  Duncan grabbed Tim’s arm. “She’s right. As we discussed, you’ll report to the treatment facility by nine tomorrow morning or there will be a warrant for your arrest.”

  Tim looked between them. “You’re in this together. You’re selling me out with this bastard? Dammit, Annie.”

  Duncan stepped between them. “Enough, McCoy. It’s time for you to leave. Remember, by nine in the morning.”

  “Why wait?” Tim asked bitterly. “I’ll go now.”

  “That’s probably for the best.”

  Tim shook off Duncan’s hand, then walked to the door. He paused and glanced back at her. “Do you even care?”

  Annie pressed her lips together and refused to answer. Tim would manipulate her if she gave him the chance. She’d never been able to stand up to him, but maybe it was time to start learning how.

  She squared her shoulders. “Good luck, Tim. I hope this works.”

  He glared at her. “It doesn’t matter if it does, Annie. Either way, I’m never going to forgive you.”

  Three

  Duncan drove toward the hotel. Annie was silent, but he was aware of her next to him. He could inhale the scent of her subtle and feminine perfume. When he turned his head to the right, he caught a glimpse of her sleek thighs. Every now and then he heard a soft sigh.

  “Are you mad at me or Tim?” he asked.

  “What? Neither of you.” She shifted toward him. “Mr. Patrick, I really appreciate your help with Tim. And he will, too. Eventually.”

  Unlikely, Duncan thought. But he’d been wrong before. Maybe rehab was what Tim needed. If it didn’t work, he would screw up again and find himself in jail.

  “I’ve been calling him all week,” she admitted. “Trying to explain. Today is the first time I’ve seen him since we made our deal. He was so angry.”

  “You know he’s lashing out at you because it’s safe, right?” he asked. “He can’t admit he has a problem, so it has to be everyone else’s fault.”

  “I know, but it was still hard to hear.”

  Tim was damn lucky to have Annie for his sister, Duncan thought. Unlikely he would recognize that, either.

  “You going to be all right?” he asked.

  “You mean can I still do my job?” she asked with a smile. “Yes. As well as I could have before Tim showed up.” She bit her lower lip. “I’m not very good at this sort of thing.”

  Hell of a time to admit that, he thought, amused by her honesty. “Going to parties? There’s not much of an expectation. Look pretty and smile adoringly at me. You got through college. This should be easy by comparison.”

  “There’s a little more to it than that,” she said. “Or aren’t I expected to hold a conversation?”

  “You’re talking just fine.”

  “You’re less scary than a room full of people I don’t know.”

  “Then maybe you should call me Duncan instead of Mr. Patrick.”

  Her breath caught. He liked the sound. It was unexpected and sexy as hell. The kind of sound a woman made when…

  He stopped himself in midthought. Hold on there, he told himself. Annie McCoy was many things, but sexy? He slid his gaze across her bare thighs. Okay, yeah, maybe sexy applied, but it was beside the point. He’d hired her to do a job—nothing more. Besides, she wasn’t his type.

  “Duncan,” she said softly.

  He looked at her and their eyes met. Hers were a deep blue, wide, with dark lashes. Her hair was different, he thought, remembering the curls. Tonight it was smooth, with waves. Sleek, he thought, although he preferred the curls. The dress was appropriate. He appreciated the way it emphasized her curves, not to mention the flash of thigh.

  “You look good,” he said.

  She tugged at the hem of her dress. “It’s Cameron’s doing. He was great. Funny and really knowledgeable about fashion. He made a list of what shoes and evening bags go with each dress.”

  “Cameron knows his stuff.”

  “He mentioned you were college roommates.”

  Duncan chuckled. “That was a long time ago. I’ll admit he was the first openly gay guy I’d ever met and that I wasn’t happy to have him as my roommate.”

  “Too macho to understand?” she asked.

  “Partially. I also had the idea that he would attack me in my sleep, which was pretty stupid of me. It took a while, but we became friends. When he moved back to L.A. a few years ago and opened his own business, he looked me up. I signed on as a client.”

  “He was nice,” she said. “My cousins and Kami had a great time shopping, too.”

  “They went with you?”

  “Uh-huh. You said I can keep the clothes, which is very nice of you, but honestly, can you see me wearing anything like this ever again? It’s not exactly suitable for the classroom.” She smiled. “So everyone came with me and offered opinions. As long as Cameron agreed with the choices, I got outfits they can wear later. We’re all about the same size.”

  “You’re going to give your cousins and their friend your clothes when this is done?”

  “Isn’t that okay? You said you didn’t want them back.”

  �
��I don’t have a lot of use for them. They’re yours.”

  “Thank you.”

  He turned the idea over in his mind. He couldn’t picture any other woman giving up an expensive wardrobe without a whole lot of motivation. Her comment about wearing them, or not wearing them, in the classroom made sense. But didn’t she date? Didn’t she want to hold on to them just because she could? The situation didn’t make sense, which meant Duncan was going to have to figure it out. Success meant winning and winning meant understanding his opponent and exploiting his or her weakness. He might have bought Annie’s time, but he didn’t trust her. Not a big deal as he didn’t trust anyone. Ever.

  Annie ran her hands over the smooth leather of the seats. The car, an expensive German sedan, still smelled new. The engine was quiet, the dashboard filled with complex-looking displays. She had a feeling that an engineering degree would make working the stereo easier.

  “Your car is really nice,” she said. “Mine has this weird rattle in the dash. My mechanic says there’s nothing wrong with how it drives, so I live with it. But it makes it tough to sing along with the radio.”

  “You can’t get it fixed?”

  She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “I could,” she said slowly. “And I will. Right after I win the lottery. But first I need new tires. It’s always something, right? But that’s okay. My car is really dependable. We have a deal—it starts for me every morning and I don’t replace it.”

  His mouth twitched. “You talk to your car?”

  “Sure. You probably don’t.”

  “Your car and I have never met.”

  She laughed. “I can introduce you, if you’d like.”

  “No thanks.” He turned left at the light.

  “I’ve been thinking, we’re going to have to tell people how we met. That’s always the question right after ‘How long have you been dating?’”

  “Three months.”

  “Okay.” She made a mental note. “How about saying it was Labor Day weekend. You were on your way to the beach when you saw me on the side of the road with a flat tire. You stopped to help.”