A Love Surrendered (11 page)

“What do you mean ‘the right bait’?” she said, pulse tripping along with her stomach.

“I mean you rattled Steven’s cage when he thought Joe was interested, right? Well, since Joe obviously bailed on you, we just have to rattle it again.” Peggy pursed her lips,
conspiracy bright in her eyes. “You know, with somebody Agent O’Connor can’t abide?”

Annie blinked and then gasped. “Oh no you don’t, not Brubaker!”

“Why not?” Peggy asked, a bit indignant. “You want to light a fire under Steven or not?”

Butterflies did the Lindy Hop in her stomach with more swoops and swirls than Steven and Erica in the band’s last song. Annie closed her eyes, wishing she didn’t have to resort to tricks and ploys. She peeked up. “Okay, but not Brubaker. How ’bout one of the others I danced with?”

Peggy hiked a dark russet brow. “Have you seen any smoke coming out of Agent O’Connor’s ears tonight, other than when you danced with Joe?”

A depleted sigh huffed from Annie’s lips. “No.”

“Then you best leave the finagling to me,” Peggy said with a wry smile. “Because you may be class valedictorian, but honestly, Annie, when it comes to romance, you’re just—”

“I know, I know—book smart, street stupid.” Annie’s chin slumped in her hand just as Joe escorted his dance partner back to her table. Swiping a quick swig of his pop, he gave Annie a wink, then turned to laugh and chat with the guys. Annie sat straight up. “Wait, why don’t I just come out and ask Joe?” She slapped herself in the head. “Goodness, I am street stupid.”

“Sure . . . if you think you can get him to talk to you,” Peggy said with a grunt.

“Well, maybe I’ll just . . . just . . . I don’t know, ask him to dance.” An involuntary shiver rippled her sweater. “All I know is, Brubaker gives me the creeps.”

Peggy checked her lipstick in her hand mirror, then glanced up. “Wait, there was this one guy Joanie mentioned once.” The whites of her eyes expanded. “Hey, that’s it! Dale Brannock! Joanie had a crush on him, but then all the girls did. He’s a bigger sheik than Steven, if you can imagine, and the guys hate him.” She wriggled her brows. “
Especially
Steven.”

“Why?” Annie asked, curious.

“Who knows? Maybe it had something to do with Maggie, but the guy is as gorgeous as Valentino and just as dangerous, from what I hear, so I’ll just ask Joanie—”

“No!” Annie nabbed her friend. “Joanie can’t know I like Steven. She’ll tell Erica.”

“Don’t get your garter in a glitch, Annie, I’ll be discreet.”

“Oh yeah, about as discreet as this shrunken sweater you forced me to wear.” Annie’s whisper was harsh, her patience shrinking along with the pullover.

Peggy hiked her chin. “Well, if you don’t want my help . . .”

“I do, Peg,” Annie pleaded, “I just don’t want anyone else to know, okay? Please?”

“Mum’s the word,” Peggy said with an imaginary lock of her lips. She looked up when Joanie returned from a dance. “Hey, sis, did ya happen to notice if Dale Brannock is here tonight?”

Joanie slid into her chair, the edge of her lip zagging up. “Notice Dale? You kidding? Any girl who doesn’t is either cold or dead. Yeah, why?”

“Oh, nothing, I was just telling Annie what a sheik he is, and she wanted to see him.”

Joanie leaned in, a look of longing in brown eyes framed by russet brows. “Oh, honey, trust me. The man makes Valentino look downright homely.” She sighed and nodded toward the bar. “Yeah, I saw him surrounded by his fan club over there.” She scoped out the dance floor. “I see Erica’s making headway with Steven. Good for her. That must be their sixth dance.”

“And her last if we have any say,” Peggy muttered in Annie’s ear.

Joanie jumped back up, purse in hand. “Hey, Peg, if Erica’s looking for me, tell her I went to powder my nose.” Her brows did a dance. “
And
catch a glimpse of Dale Brannock.”

The instant Joanie disappeared, Peggy tugged Annie up and pushed her toward Joe. “You’re on, Annie Lou. Get the scoop from Joe while I hunt down Dale Brannock.”

Annie spun around, eyes wide. “What? What are you going to do?”

“Never you mind. Your job is to get Joe on the dance floor, pronto, over there, close to Steven and Erica.” With a sultry pat of her hair, Peg winked and darted off.

Legs as wobbly as her confidence, Annie headed for Joe, gaze welded to his back while he, Mark, and Allan chatted with the girls at the next table. The milk gravy she’d had for dinner lumped in her stomach when she tapped on his shoulder. “Joe?”

He looked back, eyes flaring for a brief moment before a guarded smile eased across his lips. “Annie, why aren’t you dancing? All those guys wear you out?”

“No,” she whispered, cheeks burning at the prospect of asking a man to dance. She swallowed her pride and peeked up beneath sooty lashes. “Actually, Joe, I was hoping . . . that is, I was wondering . . .” She gulped and sucked in more air. “Would you dance with me, please?”

He paused, gaze softening before he reached to give her hand a squeeze. “Sure, kid, come on.” He led her to the floor, but when he stopped at the edge, she pulled him farther into the crowd until they were only feet away from where Steven and Erica danced cheek to cheek. Holding her at a respectable distance, Joe studied her through patient eyes, a sympathetic smile shadowing his lips. “So, what’s on your mind, Annie?”

Her hands were sweating, but when she glanced up, the kindness in his face slowed her heart to a steady beat. She smiled. “Thanks for making this easy, Joe.”

“Sure, kid.” He pulled her close in a soft spin. “But I think it’s only fair to tell you I was only half right about Steven—he does care about you, but not the way you hoped.” He drew back, eyes connecting with hers. “He sees you as a little sister, Annie, and nothing more.”

Heat broiled her cheeks and she jutted her chin. “That’s not how he looks at me, Joe, and you and I both know it.”

His weary sigh breezed against her face as he tucked her
close for another slow whirl. “He’s a guy, Annie. We all look at pretty women that way. Besides, it doesn’t matter how Steven looks at you, he has no intention of getting involved, period.”

She jerked away. “But you were all for it before, you said I’d be good for him.”

“And I still believe that, but it’s Steven’s decision, not mine.” Joe exhaled and squeezed her hand. “He’s my best friend, and I have to respect his wishes.”

“He’s an idiot,” she said, fighting the sting of tears.

Joe nudged her chin up, eyes soft with concern. “Yes, occasionally he is, Annie, but he’s also entitled to choose with whom he spends his time.”

“As am I,” she bit back, her chin taut against his finger.

With another weary sigh, he dropped his hand and swept it to her waist, drawing her close to the beat of the music as the song came to an end. “Yeah, you are, kiddo, but keep in mind, we’re only looking out for your best interest.”

“Well, don’t, because I don’t need—”

“Excuse me, but I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Startled, Annie looked up, vaguely aware that Joe’s grip had tightened. A tall, attractive man with dark hair and blue eyes gave her a smile that fused the words to her tongue. His open pinstripe shirt revealed a hint of dark hair beneath a white undershirt, while rolled shirtsleeves displayed hard-sculpted arms on one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen.

“She’s dancing with me, Brannock,” Joe said none too kindly.

The man arched a brow with a confidence that stilled the breath in Annie’s lungs. “I believe that’s up to the lady,” he said with an easy smile, his gaze all but buckling her knees.

“Yeah, it is,” Joe said in a near snarl. “Tell him to scram, Annie, will ya?”

Oh, goodness, as if she could! Jaw distended, Annie stood bolted to the ballroom floor, as stiff as the pillars that circled the room. “Uh . . . uh . . .”

“The name is Dale Brannock,” the man said in a husky
drawl. His gaze trailed down and up with a boyish smile. “Come on, Annie, tell this dope to take a powder and dance with me.”

“Beat it, Brannock.” Joe hooked Annie away, obviously hoping to steer her to the table.

“Wait!” Annie dug her heels in, suddenly aware the encounter was drawing attention from Steven and Erica a few couples away. The band started playing “Ain’t Misbehavin’,” and she placed her hand in Dale’s with a shaky smile. “Love to,” she breathed, then patted Joe’s arm. “Thanks for the dance, Joe. I appreciate you setting me straight.”

“Annie, wait . . .”

His voice trailed off as Dale swept her away, holding her so close, she felt like Erica.

“So . . . ,” Dale said, assessing her through probing blue eyes, “I understand you need to make a certain guy jealous.”

Annie looked up, his frank stare pinking her cheeks. “I . . . well, yes, and I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Brannock, for doing us this favor and helping me out.”

He grinned, and it was a toss-up as to which stumbled more . . . her heart or her feet. “Oh, I’m s-so s-sorry,” she stuttered after her toes intruded on his.

His response was another smile that would have stolen her breath . . . had she been breathing. “Dale,” he corrected. “So, who’s the lucky guy, and please tell me it’s not Walsh.”

She laughed, his tone easing her nerves. “No, not Walsh. Worse, I’m afraid. His partner.”

“O’Connor?” A low chuckle rumbled from Dale’s chest. “Then you tagged the right guy. O’Connor and I have butted heads before, which explains the daggers in his eyes right now.”

“Really?” Annie attempted to turn around, but Dale braced her neck, prodding her close.

“Don’t give him the satisfaction, Annie. Let him stew.” He leaned in to nuzzle her ear. “This should put a little heat under his collar,” he whispered, the warmth of his mouth all
but melting her makeup. “So what do you see in a lug like O’Connor, anyway?”

Annie closed her eyes, Dale’s touch muddling her mind. “I honestly don’t know,” she said, wondering what it’d be like to have Steven dancing with her like this. She released a breathy sigh. “He kissed me once, so I guess he got under my skin.”

“Is that all it takes?” he whispered, the sway of the music and the huskiness of his tone making her dizzy. “Because if so, what do you say we get under his?” With an easy smile, his gaze dropped to her lips before looking back up, a bold question burning in his eyes.

Annie swallowed hard, the pounding of her pulse louder than the music. She gave him a slow nod, and he eased in to gently graze his mouth over hers.

“Mind if I cut in?”

With a sharp jolt, Annie jerked in Dale’s arms, blinking up at Steven as if he’d doused her with cold water. No, make that
ice
water. She pushed hair from her eyes. “What?”

The tic in his hard-chiseled face could have kept time with the music. “I
said
, do you mind if I cut in?”

“Go find your own girl, O’Connor, this one’s mine,” Dale said with a possessive hold.

Steven ignored him, eyes fused to Annie’s. “Please? I need to talk to you.”

She stared, heart thudding at the heat in his eyes.

He extended a hand, jaw hard and tone soft. “It’s important,” he whispered.

Her breathing shallowed as she tore her gaze from his to Dale’s. “Sorry, do you mind?”

“Yeah, I do,” he said, glaring at Steven. “But we can finish this later.” Shooting Steven a snide look, he turned and strolled away, leaving Annie to face the wrath of Steven O’Connor.

And oh, what a wrath it was! Heat fairly shimmered from his look—the same heat that ignited her skin the moment his hand touched hers. With a solid grip that fixed her body
firmly to his, Steven took control, his silence as smoldering as the look in his eyes. With a slight tremble, Annie’s eyelids fluttered closed while a warm shiver licked through her at the possessive feel of his arms. Head against his chest, she heard his heartbeat, steady and strong, while the tease of Bay Rum wreaked havoc with her senses.

“Annie . . .” His voice lost some of its edge, as did his body, which transitioned from a wall of cold granite to warm muscle and flesh, strong and protective. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” she whispered, too comfortable to move.

He held her at arm’s length, eyes trailing down and then up. Anger glinted in their dark-blue depths. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. The sweater, the makeup, the hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Her tone sparked. “Or my sweater, for that matter?”

He cocked a brow, gaze raking her before pinning her with a glare. “Nothing, kid, if you’re looking to be a floozy.” His smile was hard. “But then, maybe that’s your plan.”

Her breath caught on a gasp and she jerked free. “How dare you presume to tell me how I may dress or whom I may dance with. It’s none of your business!”

She spun around to return to the table, but he wrenched her back, an arm of steel bolting her to his waist. “Why are you doing this?” he breathed, hovering so close she could almost feel the dark bristle of his jaw. “This isn’t you, Annie, so tell me, please, why are you doing this?”

The plea in his tone siphoned all anger away. “You know why,” she whispered, lowering her gaze. Her body began to quiver, both from her receding anger and the touch of his body.

“Annie . . .” He cupped her face, and her heart turned over at the tenderness in his eyes. “I like you a lot, kid, I do, but I’m afraid that’s as far as it goes.” The pad of his thumb caressed the side of her jaw, and she found herself leaning in to his touch. “You’re a sweet kid, Annie, and sure, in a few years, I might be attracted to you that way . . .” His hand
glided from her face down to the back of her neck, giving it a playful squeeze. “But . . .” He braced her arms, forcing her to look into eyes that were naked with honesty and a hint of something else.
Shame?
“Not now, kid. I can’t get involved with you because you’re too young, too innocent.” He exhaled. “Remember those guys I warned you about, the ones who’ll do or say anything to get as much as they can?”

She nodded.

“Well, I’m one of ’em, kid, and so is Joe for that matter and trust me, guys like Brubaker and Brannock make us look like amateurs. The truth is, I kissed you that time to try and scare some sense into you, to show you what could happen if you let your guard down around guys like us. So I want you to promise me, Annie, that you’ll stop this . . . this . . . ,” he waved a hand at her sweater, a lump shifting in his throat, “thing. Go home and wash your face and be the sweet kid I know that you are, one who doesn’t give me or guys like Brubaker the time of day. And I wish you’d stay away from older girls like Joanie and Erica, and this place for that matter.” Intensity darkened his eyes. “Because I promise you, if you do, Annie, you
will
thank me someday.”