Under the Tycoon's Protection (3 page)

“One of my brothers then. Quentin, Matt and Noah all keep apartments in Boston.”

“They're often not even
in
Boston. Ever since he got married, Quentin has settled down to domestic bliss in Carlyle with your friend Liz and their baby. And Matt and Noah are often on the road for Whittaker Enterprises. If you disappeared from one of their apartments, no one would discover it for hours, even a day or two.”

She knew he was right, but she rebelled at the thought. No one, least of all her family, seemed to understand that a bodyguard would raise eyebrows at the DA's Office. She'd worked too hard at her career to have her credibility undermined by the poor-little-rich-girl image that had stalked her her entire life.

Connor unfolded his arms. “What you need is a bodyguard,” he stated matter-of-factly. “But I understand why that might be a problem for someone in your position.”

“Thanks,” she said wryly, his perceptiveness taking her by surprise. “At least you're more reasonable than my family.”

“So,” he went on, “that's why I'm suggesting another option. Namely, me. All anybody else needs to know is that I'm a friend of the family who's moved
in with you for a while, maybe until renovations on my own place are done.”

The man had a stubborn streak a mile wide. Even if he did manage to keep a lower profile than a typical bodyguard, his offer was unwise. Very unwise if last night's kiss was anything to judge by. “I thought we'd been over this. No.”

“I'll pick you up and drop you off at work,” he continued unperturbed, “and, as an added bonus—” he gestured to their surroundings “—I'll stay here with you.”

“How magnanimous of you.”

He gave her a humorless smile. “Don't worry. I'm house-trained and basically pick up after myself.”

She rolled her eyes.

He leaned in then, suddenly serious, his hazel gaze capturing and holding hers. “This isn't a game, Allison. Someone has already vandalized your car and sent you death threats. You don't know what he'll do next.”

“I know.” She'd tried not to focus on the danger but, instead, on finding the perpetrator. She refused to live her life in fear—although, truth be told, hadn't that been part of her motivation last night for being at the window, peering down at a dark street?

Connor continued, “Your family said the police are involved, but you and I both know those resources only go so far.”

She'd always known Connor Rafferty was a man who didn't take no for an answer. He was, after all, the guy who'd climbed out of South Boston and, by the age of thirty-seven, had built a multimillion-dollar enterprise offering security systems and personal protection to big companies as well as the rich and famous.

But, she reminded herself, he was also the guy who'd hauled her teenaged butt out of a dark bar over ten years ago. The guy who still acted at times as if she were a pesky little kid, regardless of last night's inexplicable kiss.

Fortified by that thought, she tried again for a polite brush-off. “Look, Connor, I appreciate the offer, but, as you just said, the police are on it. The DA's Office also has detectives assigned to it.”

His eyes narrowed. “And what if I said you really don't have a choice in the matter?”

She scoffed, then stopped abruptly as he reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a set of house keys. Alarm bells went off in her head. “Where did you get those?”

“When I'm hired for a job, I usually get access to the premises,” he said coolly.

She pursed her lips. She knew exactly which Whittaker to thank for giving him access. When she was through with Quentin, his ears would be ringing for days. In the meantime, she had one cagey security expert to deal with.

Quite clearly, she wasn't simply going to be able to banish Connor as she'd like. Experience had taught her, however, that it was better to graciously call a temporary truce rather than to admit defeat. She needed time to figure out how to get him out of her house. In the meantime, she'd play along with his game.

“I see,” she said, keeping her voice a few degrees cooler than his. “Well, if you're going to be my temporary roommate, then we should set some house rules.”

“Such as?” His tone was suspicious, wary.

“Last night was a mistake that will not happen again, got it? Unfortunately, you caught me at a weak moment, when my defenses were down.”

“That's the idea.”

She narrowed her eyes. “As I said, it will not happen again.”

“Are we, by any chance, talking about the kiss we shared?”

“Of course I'm talking about the kiss.” Somewhere in the last few hours, the kiss—really two kisses that had seemed to flow almost seamlessly together—had assumed a singular identity all its own, so that she now referred to it mentally as “The Kiss.”

“Just checking,” he said in a voice that was so amiable it set her teeth on edge.

“And let me correct you, it's not ‘the kiss we
shared.' It's the kiss that you planted on me when I was distracted and vulnerable.”

His lips teased upward on one side. “Funny, you seemed to have enjoyed it.”

“No kissing. That's part of the ground rules, Rafferty.”

He had the temerity to look openly amused. “I'll agree not to kiss
you.
Whether you kiss me, however, is another matter.”

She gave him a frosty stare. “I'll do my best to resist.”

“So, are we shacking up together?” he asked.

“With an offer like that, how can I refuse?”

He broke into a grin. “Modesty prevents me from saying more.”

“I've always said it's your strong suit.”

“Is that sarcasm I detect?”

“That and good manners prevent me from saying what else.”

He laughed outright then, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Her stomach somersaulted and she resisted the sudden strange urge to quell his hilarity with a sultry kiss on his laughing mouth.

Oh boy, was she in trouble. Until last night, she'd have said that the only way she'd have thought to silence Connor was with an advanced move from her karate class.

At least until she could figure out how to get rid
of him, Connor was going to be her protector from an unknown threat, but who was going to protect her from the very real threat he represented?

C
onnor's suspicions were immediately roused when Allison didn't argue about his insistence on driving her to work. His instincts told him she was far too docile. She was up to something, but he wasn't sure what.

Nevertheless, he didn't dwell on it because he had a typical jam-packed work day ahead of him, starting with driving back to his condo to change into a business suit before heading to Rafferty Security's headquarters.

At lunchtime, he drove over to Whittaker Enterprises' headquarters in Carlyle. He and Quentin had long ago scheduled lunch at Burke's Steakhouse for
today. They tried to fit in a lunch appointment from time to time, often at Burke's, as a way of keeping in touch despite their busy schedules. He knew, however, that this time Quentin would have questions about how things were going with beefing up Allison's security.

He hadn't been wrong, he thought, as he shifted in the seat he'd taken in front of Quentin's desk because they still had a few minutes before they had to walk over to Burke's.

“I tried to talk to her about taking some more safety measures,” Quentin was saying, “but she just shrugs me off. Tells me she's dealing with it. But, the thing is, she's in a high-profile job and coming into contact with unsavory types every day.”

Connor nodded. “I'm doing my best. She wasn't exactly thrilled to see me last night.” He added wryly, “And, you know, I'm not known for my ability to be charming and ingratiating.”

Quentin chuckled. “Yeah, but I haven't got a choice…”

The door to the office swung open and Quentin's voice trailed off as Allison strode in.

Her clear, sky-blue eyes flashed her annoyance. “Are you two discussing me, by chance?”

She was dressed in the navy suit that Connor had seen her in that morning, the open collar of her white shirt giving a tantalizing glimpse of her bare throat.
Her high-heeled black leather pumps set off her shapely legs beneath her short skirt.

The mere sight of her awakened every male need Connor had, but she had completely disregarded everything he'd said this morning.

Quentin muttered a curse under his breath. “I suppose Celine let you come right in, didn't she?”

“Actually, your secretary stepped away from her desk right after letting it slip that you were meeting with Connor.” Connor watched as Allison's eyes settled on him then, a disdainful look on her face. “I might have known you'd be here. Patting yourself on the back for a mission accomplished, are you?”

He rose from his seat. “I'll only feel a sense of accomplishment once we track down the guy who's after you.” Sternly, he went on, “I thought I told you to stay put and that I'd pick you up from the office when you were ready to leave.”

“Yes, I do recall you ordering me to stay put. What I don't recall is my agreeing to it, especially since I have my dear sibling to thank for my new living arrangements.” She folded her arms and sat on the corner of Quentin's desk, glancing back at her brother, who merely raised an eyebrow inquiringly at her.

“Hello, Quentin,” she said coolly. “Just the person I wanted to see. You know, the last time I checked, tenants still had the right to peaceful occupation of the premises without unwanted roommates being
foisted on them.” She fixed her brother with a hard stare. “So far I've resisted the urge to file a complaint against you with landlord-tenant court. I know that would break Mom's heart.”

“Is that what you came here to do? Complain?” He added in exasperation, “And, for the record, what would break Mom's heart is if we found you dead in a ditch. We're all worried sick about you and this psycho who's sending you threats.”

“Well, of course Mom is worried!” Allison retorted. “She was also worried when Noah took up race-car driving a few years ago. When Matt decided he'd try rock-climbing. And, when
you
went backpacking through Europe.
But
she trusted you to take precautions.”

Quentin leaned forward. “What's wrong with getting a little help in this case? I couldn't even mention Connor's name without you going ballistic on me.” Quentin folded his hands on his desk. “Connor is the best in the business. The only reason you won't consider him is that you two do nothing but snap and bark at each other.”

“Great, won't that make us pleasant roomies!”

Connor gained grim satisfaction from the thought that she sounded worried about their living situation. “I can stand the heat in the kitchen if you can, petunia.”

She gave him the imitation of a smile. “You won't
need to worry about the kitchen, Connor, because I plan to light a fire under you.”

Their gazes locked while Quentin stifled a laugh. Connor wondered what she'd say if he told her she'd already lit a fire inside him. He'd just been unsuccessfully dousing the flames for years.

Quentin cleared his throat. “If you think I'm meddling, Ally, just consider it payback for your meddling in my life. That was a nice little performance last year, orchestrating to throw me and Elizabeth together.”

“That was different.”

Quentin's expression showed skepticism. “Oh, yeah?”

Connor knew that, partly thanks to Allison's machinations, Quentin and her best friend Liz were now married and the parents of one-month-old Nicholas.

Allison straightened away from the desk that she had been leaning against and folded her arms. “You and Liz were made for each other, Quent. Besides, you can't say you're unhappy with the way things turned out.”

Quentin cocked his head and leaned back in his chair. “So that was different because you had my best interests at heart, is that it?”

Connor nodded at Allison, then looked back at Quent. “Obviously, unlike Allison here, who had your best interests at heart, Quent, you're just a dirty, rotten interloper of the first order.”

 

Allison sighed in exasperation. Her brother and Connor were cut from the same cloth, despite the fact that one had been born to wealth and the other still had the air of a dangerous bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks. Neither would back down in a situation like this.

Connor looked at her levelly. “Somehow I didn't think you'd be backing down easily despite seeming docile as a lamb when I drove you to work this morning.”

“You do know me better than that,” she tossed back.

“Let's call this one a draw, petunia.” He said it calmly, but his fixed look conveyed the message that he would not be thwarted next time.

“Why don't you join us for lunch?” Quentin offered. “Connor and I agreed to do lunch today a long time ago, but, as it happens, you've been the number-one topic so far.”

She glanced at her watch. “Thanks for the offer but I need to get back.”

She'd succeeded in communicating her displeasure to her brother, but it was clear that neither he nor Connor was going to be moved to seeing her point of view—such as the need for Connor to remove himself from her house.

Since staying any longer would probably be an exercise in futility, she supposed that it made sense to
agree to Connor's offer of a draw and retreat from the field of battle. But if Connor thought he'd won, he was in for a big surprise.

Connor moved toward her. “I'll go with you.”

“You're having lunch with Quent, remember? Besides, it's broad daylight with plenty of traffic.”

“Quentin and I can have lunch another time,” Connor shot back. “Besides, we've said all we needed to say. My guys are starting on the security system for the house this afternoon and I need to get back.” He nodded at Quentin. “You don't mind if I take a rain check, do you?”

Quentin looked quizzically from one to the other of them before, she could swear, a smile played at the corners of his lips. “Not a problem. Not a problem at all.”

Her brother's expression made her wary, but she didn't dwell on it as Connor came toward her, obviously intent on following her out the door. “Suit yourselves.”

“I'll pick you up at work when you're done,” Connor said in a tone that declared he would brook no argument. “Give me a ring on my cell.”

“Naturally,” she responded sarcastically, though silently she admitted that she'd unintentionally summarized part of the problem: she was afraid that having Connor around might seem all too natural all too quickly.

 

On Sunday, Allison drove to Carlyle to have brunch with her family. Her brothers and her sister-in-law had all converged at her parents' impressive brick colonial.

Connor came with her, as she knew he would have even if he hadn't gotten a separate invitation from her parents.

He was still camped out at her townhouse, but she hadn't given up hope of dislodging him. Even if Quentin technically still owned the townhouse and Connor could claim to be acting at his request, that didn't mean she was without options. She wasn't prepared yet to take the drastic step of moving out herself, but she could refuse to cooperate with Connor and ignore him as much as possible.

The main topic of conversation during brunch was, of course, her nameless antagonist. In comparison, the fact that she was living with Connor seemingly went over without anyone so much as batting an eye.

Her mother seemed to summarize the general feeling by commenting, “We're so grateful to you, Connor, for providing your security services. It does give me some peace of mind.”

Her brother Matt added, “Lots of luck, Connor. And, if I know Allison, you're going to need it.”

Connor merely cocked an eyebrow but Quentin and Noah grinned knowingly.

Allison tossed a quelling look at her brothers—a glance that indicated their hilarity was definitely not appreciated.

By the time brunch was over and she joined her sister-in-law Elizabeth in the family room, she was gritting her teeth. If there was anyone who could sympathize with her plight, however, it would be her best friend.

She flopped into a wicker chair facing Liz. “Can you believe it? Grateful? Peace of mind?” She opened her eyes wide in mock disbelief.

Liz, who'd just taken the rocking chair to breast-feed Nicholas, looked up. “I know, I know. But, Ally, really, aren't you the least bit scared by all this?”

“You mean the threats?” Allison shrugged. “Yes, of course. But I can't let fear paralyze me. Otherwise I might as well resign my job tomorrow.”

Liz nodded understandingly.

“But don't tell my brothers that.” She blew a breath. “If they knew I was the least bit bothered by this, they'd probably hide me in a hut somewhere with bodyguards posted at all sides.”

Liz chuckled. “Oh, Allison, they mean well. Quentin, for one, is genuinely concerned about your safety.”

“I know. I just wish they'd give me a little more credit. Besides, there are practically four of them.
Connor could give the other three a run for the money in the overprotectiveness category.”

Liz gave her a sympathetic look.

Allison sighed in exasperation. “Connor's made himself at home in the townhouse. Yesterday he was inspecting door locks and checking windows. He already has his people installing a home alarm system with a direct alert to the police.”

The alarm system
had
made her more comfortable, she conceded. It was just who was supervising the installation that bothered her.

“Hmm.” Liz looked down at the nursing baby. “There was a time when you would have done somersaults for attention from Connor.”

Allison made a noncommittal sound in her throat. Liz knew all about her teenaged humiliation at Connor's hands. “I got tired of dining on the crumbs of that table a long time ago.”

“I'd be shocked if a daughter of mine were dining on the crumbs of
any
table,” Ava Whittaker said as she entered from the doorway leading to the family room.

Allison watched as her mother—looking elegant as always, her coifed hair as dark as Allison's own but tinged with some gray—sank into a nearby wicker chair. “Mom, how could you say that in there?”

“Say what, dear?” Her mother bestowed an indulgent gaze on the baby.

Allison waved a hand. “
Grateful,
Mom?
Peace of
mind?
Whatever happened to ‘a woman is perfectly capable of taking care of herself'? Usually I can count on
you
at least in this family.”

Her mother had practically raised her children alone while her father built Whittaker Enterprises. When the youngest of her children had reached her teens, Ava had gone to law school and eventually become a respected family court judge. Allison's mother was her hero, her role model.

Her mother's gaze drifted back from the baby to her. “Of course I know you can take care of yourself. But there's nothing wrong with thanking Connor for his help when you may be in real danger.” She paused. “In fact, I hope you haven't forgotten the manners I tried to instill in you and have already thanked him yourself. Have you?”

Allison quashed the niggle of guilt. Her mother had a sneaky way of turning the tables on her. “The way all of you were falling over yourselves to thank him, you'd think he'd taken on his worst client ever.”

Her mother raised her eyebrows and smiled. “Allison, you know we meant nothing of the kind. Your brothers were just teasing, and usually you're besting them at their own game.”

“Yes, well, think of the inconveniences that Connor has to put up with!” Allison sat up in her chair and pretended to think for a second before snapping her fingers. “I know! I made him pace downstairs
waiting for me to get ready this morning.” She glanced at Elizabeth, who was looking mildly amused. “You know how I
love
long, hot showers.”

Her mother tried and failed to look as if she were seriously concerned.

Allison glanced from her mother to Liz and back. “Hasn't it occurred to anyone in this family that I'm, for all intents and purposes,
living with a man?
” She covered her mouth in a mock gasp, then threw up her hands. “I mean, if it had been anyone but Connor, your reaction would have been the opposite of peace of mind and, guaranteed, Matt and Noah wouldn't have been wishing him luck.”