Trust Me on This - Jennifer Crusie [45]
Evidently Harry hadn’t noticed Alec’s hesitation. “I’ve done this all my life,” he said. “This is who I am.”
Alec scowled at him. “It is not. You are not a computer bureaucrat, and you know it. What’s gotten into you?”
Harry shrugged. “Nothing. Are you sure we’re set for Bond?”
“No,” Alec said. “I just told you. The last of the checks haven’t come in. Are you all right?”
Harry scowled at him, “It’s all this waiting around. I get too much time on my hands, and I start to think.”
“Well, there’s your problem,” Alec said. “You’re too old to start doing new things.”
Harry snarled and stomped out of the room.
“That was a joke, Harry,” Alec called after him, but Harry had already slammed the door.
By two-thirty that afternoon, Dennie was exhausted from a combination of no sleep the night before, worry about Victoria and Janice, and a steady loss of energy as she focused everything she had on Bond to convince him that she was really, really on his side after all. She’d explained her skepticism, offered her willingness to be convinced, listened to the story of his childhood, his dreams, his hopes, and slurped down two daiquiris in the hour and a half she’d been romancing the con. If nothing else, she’d have a great personal essay: “My Drunken Afternoon with a Land Shark.”
“So, tell me more about your work.” Dennie smiled shyly at him over the remains of her daiquiri. “It must be fascinating. Real estate, I mean.”
Bond looked wary. Dennie’s smile widened, and he looked less wary.
“Victoria is so excited about the investment, and you’re so honest, I just have to give up all my skepticism. I think the Prentice compound is just a darling idea, and it’s so clever of you to have thought of it.” Dennie gazed admiringly at him through her lashes. “Tell me all about it.”
Another daiquiri later, Dennie was ready to throw up, but she had her story, or at least a good start on it. She needed more information, but not this afternoon. She’d had all of Brian Bond, God’s gift to women, that she could stomach, not to mention all of the daiquiris one woman could drink without barfing in a bar, and now she needed to brush her teeth, type her notes before she forgot them, and get some sleep before dinner with Alec the Rat.
“This has been so fascinating.” Dennie slid off her stool, and her feet hit the ground with more impact than she’d been planning. Great. She’d had too much to drink. Time for a fast exit. “Maybe we could meet again. Tonight at dinner? I want to know everything about the Keys.”
Bond’s arm slid around her as he stood up. “How about tonight after dinner? Once Alec is in bed—”
“I’m sorry.” Dennie tried to slide away. “Alec gets so jealous. I can’t.”
Evidently emboldened by his own daiquiris, Bond swooped down on her and kissed her, sliding his tongue in her mouth before she could clamp her lips shut.
His tongue reminded her of a raw oyster, but she managed not to gag, staying with the kiss while thinking about how much she wanted this story. This was her backup if Janice Meredith failed her. A woman couldn’t have too many stories. Think of the stories.
When he and his tongue called it quits so he could breathe, she stepped back.
“Brian, you animal,” she said, and shook her finger at him, trying hard not to spit. “I can’t trust you at all.”
He smiled back, debonairly, and she felt like gagging again. No wonder she’d never gone for the tough interviews before. You had to have a stomach of steel to get them. She backed away, wiggling her fingers playfully at him, and then staggered out the door.
Alec was in