Business or Pleasure? (8 page)

Everything about her was changed, from her hair—tossed into a wild, messy style that made him think about what it would be like to wake up next to her after a long, steamy night—right down to the clingy, designer clothes of which
he most thoroughly approved. The truth of it was, he thought as he settled back into his chair and continued to admire her, sometime in the last six hours, Daisy Kincaid had morphed into a temptation he wasn't sure he could deny himself.

“What?” she asked, tugging at her dark hair.

“Nothing,” he said and was very happy she couldn't read his thoughts.

“You're staring.”

Get used to it
. “Sorry,” he said and picked up a menu. “Ready to order?”

Exasperation rang in her voice when she said, “You're really not leaving?”

He smiled at her, looking even more beautiful now that she was annoyed. “I wouldn't dream of letting you eat alone.”

“Dream away,” she said, nodding encouragingly. “I don't mind.”

Oh, no. No way was he walking away from her tonight. “Nothing doing. You're in for the pleasure of my company for the rest of the evening.”

After a moment, she picked up her own menu. “Lucky me,” she muttered as she began to study it intensely.

He watched as concentration made her subtly lipsticked mouth pucker into a perfect bow. If he didn't kiss her by the end of the night it would be an act of will, he thought as he dragged his fingers through his hair and wondered why he suddenly felt like his life was slipping beyond his control.

Was it because the Baldwins had held his feet to the fire to bring Daisy back onto the project? Or was it because Daisy had recently revealed several troubling aspects of what he presumed was her true nature—stubborn and sexy foremost among them? Or maybe it was because now he had to deal
with this…this metamorphosis that was making it impossible to think of anything but taking her back to their hotel room and making love to her until he got her out of his system.

And he would, he knew. He always did. All he could give any woman was a week, maybe two, and then he started to feel smothered and he stopped calling and it was uncomfortable for a while and then it was over. That's how it normally went.

But this didn't feel normal—and not just because he couldn't pull his standard disappearing act on someone who worked for him and who shared his hotel room. No, this didn't feel normal because Daisy was different from other women. He
liked
Daisy. He liked being with her, liked talking to her. Hell, right now he was enjoying just looking at her.

The waitress returned and they ordered their food before surrendering their menus and the wine list. Then, with nothing to hide behind, Daisy looked up at him with an expression that plainly said, “Now what?” Her fine eyebrows were arched over brown eyes outlined in a dark, smoky color that made them look positively luminous; her skin was flawless in the candlelight; her full lips were tipped up slightly at the corners.

Now what, indeed, he thought, because at that moment, all he could think about was how much he wanted this woman in his arms, in his bed…

“So,” he said as he shifted in his chair to take the pressure off the places that needed to depressurize, “tell me what you're going to do when this job is over.”

She sat back and regarded him quizzically, as if it was the last thing she'd expected him to say. “I don't know. Find another job?”

“You could always stay,” he said, then wished he could
take those words back because right now, he wasn't so sure having a temptation like her hanging around the office was such a hot idea.

But he needn't have worried because she was already shaking her head. “Not a chance. Besides, I have a plan.”

“Another plan?” The blush that stained her cheeks let him know that she'd caught his reference. The last time she'd had “a plan,” they'd ended up making out on a public sidewalk. He felt a tide of heat rush through him at the memory.

“Not like that. A real plan. A career.” She shook her head. “Anyway, it doesn't matter…” And then her words trailed off, the conversational equivalent of closing a door.

“Tell me,” he said and the intensity in his voice surprised him. Check out Mr. Self-Involved, he thought. Caring about the future of this troubling woman.

“I don't think so,” she said, staring down into her wineglass. “I mean, I've never told anyone before. Not even my brothers.”

“Look, after your tour of duty is done here, you'll probably never see me again,” he said.
Maybe.
“So who's a better choice than me?”

She took a deep swallow of wine, then looked into his eyes, wordlessly daring him to mock her. “You'll think it's silly,” she said. “But it's always been a dream of mine to own a bed-and-breakfast.”

It would be perfect, of course. She'd been organizing, hosting, entertaining and charming Mackenzie clients for years. But why hadn't she told him about it before? After all, if he'd known, he could have done something. Hell, he would have…what? What would he have done? Probably, he thought as equal measures of guilt and regret pressed down on him, he wouldn't have done anything at all.

Alec sat back in his chair and marveled that so much had changed between them in such a short time. “You'd be excellent at that,” he said as he smiled into her wary gaze. “Do you need an architect?”

She smiled back, tentatively at first. “I will, I suppose. Someday. But that's like, step 175. I'm still at step one.”

“What step was graduating from college?”

“Okay,” she said, her smile growing wider. “Then I'm at step two.”

He leaned forward. “And negotiating that sweet deal to be the comanager of a job that involves rebuilding a couple of swank B & B's right here in Santa Margarita?” Strange how that fact failed to give him the same twinge of anger it had just a day or two ago. What was up with that?

She chuckled. “Touché,” she said and made a check mark in the air. “Step three.”

“All right then. What's next?” he asked, and watched, mesmerized, as her smile ratcheted up to full wattage.

Eyes sparkling, she asked, “Do you really want to know?”

“Absolutely,” he said, and refilled her wineglass.

Dinner passed quickly. Daisy, more animated than he'd ever seen her, told him about her dreams, shared her ideas and described some truly innovative concepts for the bed-and-breakfast she'd been planning, it turned out, ever since she was a young girl. Her level of enthusiasm was so infectious, he could feel himself smiling foolishly at her while she spoke.

By the time they walked out of the restaurant, Alec felt as though he knew Daisy better than he knew just about anyone. Under normal circumstances that fact alone would've scared him out of his mind. Instead it just felt right.

The cool, damp sea air swirled around them, making
Daisy's skirt flutter distractingly about her legs. “Walk me home?” she asked.

And even though his golf cart was parked just around the corner, he took the heavy shopping bags from her hands and said, “Lead the way, innkeeper,” and loved the feeling of her laughter shimmering through him.

Their path was lit by the mellow beams of the street-lamps as they walked side by side toward their hotel. Music poured into the harbor from bars and restaurants, revelers spilled out onto patios, teenagers laughed loudly as they fooled around on the narrow stretch of beach. But for Alec, the only things that mattered were the way Daisy's shoulder kept brushing up against his and the scent of her on the whispering breeze and the almost overwhelming urge he had to take her in his arms and kiss her until she was breathless.

Alec tried to shake the image out of his head as their hotel came into view. He'd always been very careful not to let a woman wield any sort of power over him and he wasn't about to start now—especially when he was about to be tested by spending another night under the same roof with her.

When they got to their room, Daisy unlocked the door and stepped inside ahead of Alec. He was closing it behind him when he heard her exclaim, “Oh, Alec,” in a high, excited voice. “They're absolutely gorgeous. Where did you—”

“What are you talking about?” he asked as he came up behind her.

“These,” she said as she moved out of the way to reveal the huge bouquet of red roses that had been placed on the main worktable in their absence.

Alarm bells clanged inside his head as she reached for the
card stuck in between the blooms. Were they from Tom the Hunk? he wondered as she tore open the card in that impatient way women have when flowers are at issue.

Daisy bit into her bottom lip as she read the note. Then she glanced very, very briefly at Alec.

“Well?” he asked, his good humor dimming in the face of the mystery.

She slipped the note back into the tiny envelope. “Well what?”

“Who are they from?” he asked and instantly wished his voice hadn't sounded so edgy. Jeez, he was really starting to lose it.

“They're from Troy,” she said, her chin tipping up defiantly.

Troy?
Where did that guy get off sending flowers to Daisy? he thought as he stepped closer. He wasn't nearly good enough for her. But then again, what guy was? “What does he want?” Alec growled.

“He doesn't
want
anything,” she said as she spun around quickly and bumped right into Alec's chest. She took a deep breath and stared at the white buttons on his shirt for a moment. “That is,” she finally said to the shirt, “we made a date for tomorrow morning and he sent these to remind me.”

“A date?” he said, only just realizing that he'd been half hoping both he and Daisy would be too tired from a night of lovemaking to do much of anything tomorrow morning. “To do what?” he asked.

“You're being nosy again.” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth to speak. “Or overprotective. Either way, I don't want to hear it.”

“As your friend, I have to say—”

“Don't,” she warned.

“But—”

She covered her ears with her palms. “I'm not listening.”

“Fine,” he said, then reached out to take her hands away from her ears. “Fine,” he repeated as he pulled her hands to his chest and held them tight. “But just in case he turns out to be a serial killer, tell me where you're going so I can let the police know where they should start looking for your mangled body.”

She frowned at their entwined hands but didn't pull away. Then she looked up at him and said with a sort of wonder, “You're unbelievable.”

Damn.
The closer he got, the prettier she was. The freckles that dusted her nose stood out on her silken skin and her beautiful brown eyes danced with gold flecks. Her bottom lip was caught between her straight, white teeth and… Lord, how was he ever going to forget what those lips felt like beneath his own?

“So are you,” he whispered, and reached out to sweep back a curl that had fallen over her forehead.

Daisy's lips parted, but he didn't wait to hear what she had to say. Words weren't getting them anywhere, anyway. So in one fluid movement, he tugged her closer, lowered his head and did exactly what he'd been thinking about all damn day.

Alec Mackenzie was kissing her, Daisy thought even as her knees went wobbly and her lips went pliant. Alec Mackenzie was kissing
her
. And before she had time to wrap her mind around that fact, his mouth suddenly slanted against hers, the pressure maddeningly light, polite almost to the point of pain. She tugged ineffectually to get her hands free from where they were pinned between their bod
ies so she could pull him closer but he stilled her with a barely uttered, “Shhh,” and then picked right back up where he left off.

Holy smokes.
This was mistake, she thought, a colossal mistake. And then she moaned into his mouth as his tongue swept teasingly inside and met hers, sending shivers of pure need through her.

One more minute. She'd enjoy this exquisite feeling for one more minute and then she'd be able to pull away without regrets, without wishing she could stay in his arms all night tonight. And tomorrow night. And then maybe a few more.

Damn.

“Golf,” she said against his lips.

He stilled, as she knew he would. Then he tipped his forehead against hers and whispered, “Golf?”

“I'm playing golf in the morning,” she said, forcing herself to step back and take her hands and her heart with her. “An early tee time, too, so I really should hit the sack.”

“I see,” he said, but she could tell just by the tone of his voice that he really didn't see at all.

But it didn't matter. She had no idea what he was up to this time, but she wasn't going to fall for it. Nope, she thought as she bade Alec a hasty good-night, picked up her shopping bags and fled to her room like the chicken-hearted coward she was. The only thing that could come from heading down the path they'd just been on was more heartbreak for her.

And she had pretty much done her time in the Heartbreak Hotel for this lifetime. At least, she thought as she closed her bedroom door without daring to look back, she hoped she had.

D
aisy teed up a ball at the Santa Margarita Golf Club's driving range, set up in front of it, wiggled her spikes into the Astroturf and adjusted her grip. Then she did what she'd done millions of times since she'd picked up her first nine iron when she was eight years old: she swung her club in a perfect arc, smacked that little white ball dead on, heard the satisfying ping that signaled she'd hit the club's sweet spot and watched the ball fly past one yard marker after another until it finally settled just behind the sign that read two hundred yards.

Not bad for a set of loaner clubs, she thought as she let the three wood slide out of her hand and into the bright red bag she'd picked up at the pro shop a half hour earlier. And thank goodness she'd needed to borrow these clubs, too, because that's how the golf pro had found her in time to give her a mes
sage from Troy. He wasn't going to be able to meet her like they'd planned, the pro had told her, because he'd gotten a last-minute charter and wouldn't be back until late afternoon. Before he'd left, the pro had assured her that the tee time was still hers, and since she really needed to blow off some steam leftover from last night, she'd decided to go ahead and play alone.

Daisy smiled grimly as she hefted the bag onto her shoulder and headed back to the pro shop to pick up her golf cart. In a way, it was a relief that Troy hadn't been able to make it. When she'd accepted the date the other night, she'd thought it would be a positive step in her efforts to move on with her life. But after being in Alec's arms again last night, she knew that even if she dated every eligible man in North America, it wasn't going to help her get over him.

The answer was probably time, unfortunately. And some distance would be helpful, too, but it didn't look as if she was going to get much of that in the near future. The best she could hope for now, she thought as she dropped her bag in the rack outside the pro shop, was to finish this job with her sanity intact.

“You need a caddy today, ma'am?”

Daisy turned around, ready to smile and decline—after all, she'd been carrying a full bag since the fifth grade—but could only stare in mute shock when she saw that Alec had been the one making the offer.

“Hey, Daze,” he said, and his voice was like warm honey pouring over her cold soul.

“What are you doing here, Alec?” she asked, even as her stomach did an unexpected little flip-flop at the sight of him.

“I've been thinking,” he said as he reached around her and
opened the door to the pro shop. “I really haven't been holding up my end of that bargain we made when you agreed to come back to work.” At her baffled look, he added, “You know, the errand boy thing. So I thought a perfect way to make good would be to caddy for you today.”

For one long second Daisy was speechless. They
had
made that deal as they'd stood haggling in her kitchen, but why did he have to offer to pay up now, she thought, when she was trying her damnedest to get over him?

She stomped into the shop and walked up to the counter. “I don't need a caddy, Alec. In fact, I'm just picking up the key for a golf cart, so as you can see—”

“Where's the flyboy?” Alec asked, looking around the shop as if Troy might be hiding behind a rack of plaid pants.

“Well,” she said, stalling. “He, uh, couldn't make it. An important business thing, I guess.” And then, because her face was burning, she turned her back on him and waited for the clerk to bring her the key.

“So what you really need, then,” he said as pinned her against the counter by standing behind her and bracing his hands on either side of her body, “is a new golf partner.”

What I need, she thought as the heat of his body seared into her, is to get a grip on myself. A potent blend of excitement, anger and anticipation rose up inside her, higher and higher, making it all but impossible to come up with a witty response. In the end, the best she could do was to breathe in and out, in and out, while she tried to analyze the situation at hand.

Was this the same man who, just a few days ago, had acted as if he didn't care that she'd quit and then had come to her with his hat in his hands? Was this the same man who'd
pushed her away when she'd kissed him—heat rose higher in her cheeks as she relived that particular episode in her mind—and then last night had kissed
her
? It was the same man, of course, and now, here he was, standing way inside her personal space, trying to melt her down to her bone marrow with nothing more than the pressure of his body against her back.

Alec leaned down and whispered into her ear, “What do you say?”

“No, thanks,” she squeaked as she signaled to the clerk. “I don't mind spending a little time alone. Golf is like meditation to me.”

“In that case, I'll be as quiet as a monk at prayer.”

“No, really,” she began, ready to make up something about the Zen of golf, but he interrupted her first.

“Of course,” he said as he plucked the golf cart key out of the clerk's hand, “that game you and I played at Riviera was pretty close. You're probably afraid I'll beat you.”

She spun away from him and backed up a step or two. “That wouldn't happen, Alec. I don't want to be mean, but I'm just better than you.”

There was no indication that she'd riled him, but there was a healthy dose of something incredibly wicked in his eyes that made her feel like fanning herself to cool off.

“You want to make a little bet?” he asked.

Even though he'd been playing dirty ever since he'd taken her in his arms last night, she wanted to be fair. “Alec, I'll beat you.”

“If you're so sure, Buddha, make a bet for something you really want.”

A really brazen woman would take the bet. A brazen
woman would bet a night of passion or—hey, he was loaded—a week on a private island with him as her personal boy toy.

Daisy, however, wasn't brazen. She was a chicken.

“What do you want to bet?” she asked, even as she realized she'd just implied that he could join her for this round of golf.

He leaned against the counter and appeared to consider it. “How about this,” he said after a moment. “I win, you keep working for Mackenzie when this job is done. You win, I invest in your dream.”

He'd never win, so she didn't give the idea of working for him in the future a second thought. She, however,
was
going to win, so she pushed her luck. “How big an investment?”

“A hundred percent.”

“I can't let you do that,” she said, shocked that he would even consider it.

“I won't have to,” he said smugly. “I'm going to win.”

Why, the arrogant little rat.
She put out a hand to shake on their new deal and said, “Fine.” But when he took her hand in his, instead of shaking it, he lifted it to his lips and brushed a kiss across her heated skin. Oh, Lord, she thought as she pulled her hand away. She wasn't fine. For starters, her body was on fire, her heart was beating too fast and her mind was a mess.

Daisy watched Alec test the grips on a set of loaner clubs while he whistled like a crazy, tone-deaf parakeet. If she was going to win—and she
was
going to win—she had to calm down. But since she didn't really know anything about Zen or meditation or even Buddha, she decided she'd simply try to ignore him.

To that end, she left the shop while he was still paying for his clubs, picked up her bag where she'd left it and walked to the cart. But even as she was trying to figure out how to turn “ignore him” into a mantra, she felt him walking up behind her, a demon in crisp khakis.

She made an effort to focus on something other than how wonderfully encouraging he'd been about her plans to open a B & B—and how she'd felt when he'd kissed her last night—to get him out of her mind. The clank of the clubs as they banged against each other in the bag, the billowing clouds rolling lazily in from the sea, the scratching of a gardener's rake somewhere off to their left.

“Mind if I drive?” Alec asked as he lifted the bag off her shoulder and secured it in the cart.

“Are you going to drive it like it's your Ferrari?”

There was a sinister glint in his eye when he asked, “Scared?”

“Terrified,” she said, and she kind of meant it.

“Good.” He got into the cart and fired up the sputtering electric engine. Then he stepped on the pedal hard and the cart lurched forward which made Daisy grab for the dash in a panic.

“You can hang on to me if you need to,” he said with a chuckle.

“No, thank you,” she said, digging her short nails into her palms and trying not to fall out onto the grass in an unladylike heap.

When they got to the first hole, he jumped out and pulled her clubs off the cart. “The fairway doglegs to the left on this hole at about two hundred yards so you might—”

She rolled her eyes and beckoned with her gloved right hand for him to give her the bag. “Just give it to me,” she said.

“Careful what you ask for, little girl,” he said in that damned honeyed voice.

Hot to the roots of her hair, she shot him what she hoped was a stern look and reached out to grab her clubs from him. Unfortunately her timing was off, and their fingers got tangled up on the shoulder strap and that caused heat from his touch to trickle through her and spread down her body like butter melting over a stack of pancakes. It wasn't graceful, but in about half a second she managed to wrest the bag from him, yank it on to her shoulder and scamper away to safety.

By the time she'd made it to the lady's tee box, she was ready to concede defeat just to get away from him. The thing was, though, if she did that she'd lose the bet and then she'd have to keep working for him for God knew how long.

That was all it took to get her mind back in the game. If nothing else, her brothers had taught her how to go to war on the golf course. And this guy needed to be brought down a notch or two in a very big way.

“What do you think,” Alec called out to her, “a three wood?”

She looked up at him where he stood at the men's tee a few yards away. “What happened to the monk at prayer routine you promised?”

“Went out the window with the bet,” he said with a grin.

She took a tee from the pocket of her shorts and bent over to anchor it into the grass, then set a ball atop it. “Watch and learn,” she said, plucking a two iron from the bag. “Watch and learn.”

“Oh, I plan to,” he said and something in his voice made her glance up. His smile had dimmed and something about his posture made him look a little tense but other than that, he looked okay.

Really okay. Great, in fact. Gorgeous.

“Do you have a problem?” she asked in complete exasperation.

“No. Absolutely not. Best day of my life.” He set his own bag down and pulled his glove out of his pocket. “Fire away.”

She adjusted her grip and cursed the uncharacteristic tremble in her hands. Then she gritted her teeth, summoned the gods of golf to help her play well—in spite of the hunky, six-foot-tall distraction standing just outside her line of sight—and prepared to take her first swing in what she already knew was going to be the longest eighteen holes of her life.

Alec couldn't take his eyes off her as she waggled and wiggled and took aim at the little dimpled ball that lay between her feet. Above her trim ankles, her toned, tanned legs looked like a long, lovely stretch of paradise below the exquisite curve of her perfect, tempting, round…

Ping!

The sound shook him from his daydream, and he shaded his eyes as he watched her ball fly straight and true until it fell decisively into the center of the fairway nearly two hundred yards away.

“That's your fault,” she said as she spun around and pointed the club at him like it was a sword aimed at his heart.

“What are you talking about? That was a great shot.”

“Could have been better if someone wasn't purposely trying to distract me.”

He put a hand to his chest. “Me? I'm like the soul of peace and tranquility over here.”

She looked heavenward and the thought came to him without warning: I love getting under her skin. This was naturally followed by a more lascivious thought about her and her
skin, one that he shouldn't be thinking if he wanted to win this game—which he most definitely did—so he turned away from her and got ready to take his own shot.

He'd been flirting with her, he thought to himself as he looked down the fairway, and that was not a great idea. In fact, it was an idea that would undoubtedly lead to more sleepless nights just like last night and the night before. But dammit, he was truly enjoying himself—which, now that he thought about it, he didn't do nearly often enough—so he was just going to play this game, win their bet, keep her on the payroll and see what happened.

Anyway, it wasn't as if he hadn't tried to put her out of his mind last night. It's just that she wouldn't go. Her scent clung to his sweater, his lips burned where they'd touched hers, her smile and laugh and contagious optimism staked out places in his mind and refused to budge.

So that's why, after making a few quick phone calls this morning to make sure Troy would be way too busy to play golf, here he was, thoroughly enjoying himself and well on his way to winning a bet that would land Daisy right back where she belonged: with him, five days a week, just like it used to be.

No matter how attracted he was to her, he still wasn't willing to sacrifice their…whatever this was for a week or two in the hay. But after a second night of tossing and turning, he also knew he wasn't willing to let her out of his life completely.

“We playing golf today, Mackenzie?” the lady in question called out.

He smiled to himself as he addressed the ball, then pulled the club back and executed a pretty damn good swing. He kept his club high as he watched the ball soar, then frowned
when it hooked slightly and landed far to the left but slightly closer to the pin than Daisy's.