Any Man Of Mine. Diana Palmer

in and out with coffee and pastries.

      “Do you have to encourage him?” Keena asked once, only to be met by an innocent stare and raised eyebrows.

      She went downstairs just five minutes before James was due to arrive, wearing a gown that she’d originally designed for a well-known actress—and then decided that something a little flashier would suit her client better. It was a green—more olive than emerald—deep, soft velvet with short puffed sleeves, an empire waist and a low neckline that relied on a hint of cleavage for its charm. The color mirrored that of her eyes, adding to the flush of her lips and cheeks, and the highlights in her freshly washed, curling short hair, an effect achieved with a blow-dryer to make the ends turn toward her face. She eyed herself critically in the hall mirror. If this dress didn’t set James on his ear, nothing would.

      “Bewitching,” Nicholas murmured from the doorway of the study.

      She turned around, glaring at him. He was wearing his tweed slacks, but he’d discarded the jacket, and his silk tie hung loose across his chest, the top few buttons of his shirt undone. It was one of the few times she’d seen him when he didn’t look impeccable and businesslike. His dark, shaggy mane was faintly rumpled and a forgotten cigarette smoldered in one big hand. Her fingers itched to touch him.

      “Going somewhere?” he asked pleasantly.

      She swallowed and straightened her elegant figure. “Out. With James,” she added defiantly.

      One dark eyebrow curled upward. “Oh?”

      She stiffened at that mocking reply. Only Nicholas could mingle distaste, contempt and reprisal in a single sound.

      “He asked me out to dinner,” she elaborated.

      He studied the wisps of gray smoke that came between them. “I hope you don’t plan on being out late,” he remarked. “Waiting up for people makes me cranky.”

      “I’m twenty-seven,” she reminded him. “Nobody waits up for me anymore, not even Mandy.”

      “Well, honey, I’ll have to do something about that, won’t I?” he asked with a mocking smile.

      “Mandy will fix you something to eat,” she replied.

      “So she told me.”

      “There’s James,” she murmured, her ears picking up the sound of an approaching car.

      He shouldered away from the door facing. “Have fun. While you can.”

      He went back into the study and closed the door.

      * * *

      THE RESTAURANT WAS the very best Ashton had to offer, spacious, elegant, with a hint of grandeur that would have taken Keena’s breath away nine years ago. As it was, she murmured suitably as James seated her. But the sophisticated woman she’d become wasn’t overly impressed, despite the company she was keeping.

      James stared at her across the table when the waiter had brought the menus, frowning thoughtfully, his blue eyes approving.

      “What a change,” he murmured softly, turning on the old charm she remembered so well.

      A tiny thrill shot down her spine, but it was hardly the surge of pleasure she’d once imagined it would be to see that particular look in James’s eyes. It was disappointing. She’d halfway expected the earth to move.

      She shifted restlessly in her chair. Nicholas had upset her in more ways than one. What in the world was she going to do about him? By tomorrow his presence in her house would be the subject of early-morning gossip over half the coffee cups in town. Not that she minded gossip ordinarily, but she had plans, and Nicholas was going to upset them all if she didn’t find some way to pry him out of her guest room.

      “Did I say something wrong?” James asked, his tone one of concern.

      She mentally pinched herself. “Of course not.” She created just the right smile and reached out boldly to touch his long-fingered hand. “I’m having a marvelous time. Remember when this restaurant first opened? Mayor Henderson cut the ribbon, and the lieutenant governor was the first guest...”

      “He was a friend of Max’s,” he recalled, referring to the restaurant’s owner, Max Kells.

      And not in my league back then, she thought drily. “Tell me, how is Max?”

      He shrugged. “Fine, I suppose. I’ve been too busy lately to socialize much.” James stared at her thoughtfully across the table, breaking the gaze only long enough to give the waiter their order.

      “You really have changed.” He repeated himself. “Velvet gowns, sophisticated, worldly. Do you really work in textiles?”

      “I started out there,” she admitted. “But not on the floor. I’m a fashion designer now. My casual line sells to some of the most exclusive stores in the country—and abroad.”

      “So it isn’t your...houseguesťs money that’s keeping you up?” he asked with careless bluntness.

      It would be an obvious conclusion for someone who didn’t know about her unusual relationship with Nicholas, but it brought back James’s cruelty of years past with full force.

      “No,” she replied coolly. “Nicholas doesn’t keep me.”

      “Nicholas?” he fished.

      “Coleman,” she provided. Her long, well-manicured fingers toyed with her crystal water glass. “Of Coleman Textiles,” she added.

      Both his eyebrows arched toward the ceiling. “Exalted company,” he murmured.

      “Isn’t it?” she replied with a smile. Nicholas’s vast holdings were hardly fair comparison for James’s small company, which he ran along with his modest law practice. In fact, Nicholas could have bought it all out of what he’d term petty cash, and James knew it.

      “Is he your lover?” James persisted with an interest that seemed casual, but that Keena knew wasn’t. His fingers were idly rearranging his silverware, his blue eyes glancing at hers restlessly.

      She only smiled. “How have things been with you?” she replied, ignoring the question.

      He shrugged, acknowledging the slight with that tiny gesture. “With the factory? Well, it could be worse. With me?” he added with a soft laugh. “Life can be lonely.”

      “Can it?” she asked absently. “I don’t have time for loneliness. I’m much too busy.”

      “Are you staying for good, Keena?” he asked suddenly.

      She met his eyes. Along with the cruelty, memories came back of the few good times, of James laughing, teasing her, of the first time he’d kissed her, of long walks in the woods. And then inevitably she recalled that last evening, her initiation into womanhood at his careless hands...

      “Goodness, Keena, I’ve missed you,” he said gently, reaching for her hand. Smiling, he caressed it slowly.

      Don’t fall for it, she told herself firmly. Don’t listen. But the pull of the past was strong, and James was handsome, and she was falling ever so gently under his spell. More by the minute.

      “I’ve...missed you, too,” she replied hesitantly.

      The waiter, standing patiently with his tray, finally caught James’s eye and began to serve the oysters Rockefeller that James had ordered along with a magnificent salad, filet of sole and dainty little croissants with butter.

      James cleared his throat, his long face betraying his obvious interest in Keena to an outsider. Keena looked up from her salad, her eyes wary as they searched his intent face. He was looking at her in a new and exciting way. She smiled at him. The evening was suddenly full of promise.

      “After we leave here,” James murmured sensuously, “how would you like to drive over to the lake?”

      That had been