Any Man Of Mine. Diana Palmer

the question he’d asked her about the moonlight drive along the lake, smiled confidently.

      “How about it?” he murmured over his wineglass.

      “Uh—” she began.

      “Excuse me, sir,” the waiter interrupted delicately, “there’s a call for you.”

      James muttered under his breath as he got to his feet. “Excuse me, darling?” he asked possessively.

      Darling! “Of course,” she murmured breathlessly.

      Her eyes followed him to the phone at the desk. She studied his long, elegant back while he spoke into the receiver, made a sharp gesture and hung up. His face was troubled when he came back to the table.

      “We’ll have to leave, I’m afraid,” he muttered, pausing long enough to take one last sip of wine before he helped Keena out of her chair. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I’ll drop you off on my way to the plant.”

      “What’s wrong?” she asked.

      “There’s been some problem at the plant,” he sighed. “Strange, I don’t remember my night watchman having a cold, but I suppose the line could have been bad.”

      She thought about that on the way out. “Did he have an unusually deep voice, you mean?” she asked with dawning curiosity.

      “Deeper than normal,” he replied absently. He paused to pay the check. “That company has been nothing but a headache to me since the day my father died. There are times when I wish...” He shrugged. “Never mind. Maybe it’s fate. An albatross around my neck to curse me.” He smiled down at her. “And maybe a beautiful fairy can break the spell.”

      She smiled back as she followed him out to his car. All the way home she thought about that strange phone call. She didn’t mention her suspicions to James, but she had a sneaking hunch that he wasn’t going to find any trouble at his plant at all.

      James pulled up at the steps behind the elegant Rolls-Royce.

      “How about tomorrow night? Oh, damn, no, I’ve got a business meeting with a client in Atlanta. Thursday, for dinner?” he asked with flattering eagerness.

      “I’d like that,” she agreed.

      “Sorry about this,” he murmured, leaning toward her. But a second before he could kiss her, the front porch light blazed on and James drew back abruptly.

      He cleared his throat. “Well, good night,” he said reluctantly.

      “Good night,” Keena replied, forcing herself not to explode with the rage she was feeling. When she got inside that house, she was going to shoot Nicholas Coleman!

      “Is he staying more than a day?” James added, nodding toward the Rolls with a distasteful look.

      “No,” she said firmly. She got out of the car and waved him off. When she turned toward the house, there was fury in every slender line of her body.

      She took the steps two at a time and blazed through the front door, her dark hair curling softly around her face like a halo, her green eyes glittering with anger.

      Mandy turned from the door into her own quarters at the foot of the staircase, her eyebrows risen. “Home so early?” she asked.

      Keena glared at her. “Did Nicholas make any phone calls tonight?”

      “He always makes a lot of phone calls,” Mandy replied smoothly, “I’m sorry about the porch light,” she added sheepishly. “I thought I heard a car, and it didn’t occur to me that it would be you so soon...”

      Keena waved the apology off. “Where’s Nicholas?”

      “Upstairs, I guess. I heard water running a minute or so ago.”

      “Getting ready for bed, no doubt,” Keena growled, tossing her coat and purse onto a chair in the hall before she stalked up the staircase. “He is not getting away with this. I will not have my life controlled by that...that tyrant!”

      Mandy only grinned as she went into her room.

      Keena marched up the steps to the room Nicholas had commandeered and, without thinking, threw open the door and walked in.

      The first thing that caught her eye was Nicholas. He was standing in front of his chest of drawers combing his dark, still-damp hair into place. The second thing that caught her eye was the fact that he didn’t have a stitch of clothing on his powerful, dark, hair-covered body.