Know When to Hold Him (2 page)

“Spreadsheet. Right.” Rainey gave Nora a pointed stare. “So why haven’t you found Mr. Right again?”

Nora squeezed her lips together, in a coy pout. “Maybe I have. Maybe I’m just waiting for him to realize that we’re perfect together.”

“Uh huh.” Rainey said, clearly having had her fill of the conversation.

“Why did you say Dimitri wasn’t my type?” Spencer asked her not-dating, non-list making friend.

Rainey paused in her chewing. “I don’t know,” she answered after finishing her piece of dried fruit. “Like Nora said, he was perfect for you on paper.”

“You have a type,” Nora interrupted.

“The type with tire marks on their backs,” Rainey added. Spencer looked quizzically at Rainey while Nora giggled.

“’Cause you run them over,” Nora offered.

“Beat them down,” Rainey said.

This was getting ridiculous. Spencer started to protest, “I don’t think—”

“—It’s not a bad thing,” Rainey cut her off. “Never apologize for being a strong, independent female who doesn’t want to put up with romantic bullshit.”

“Girl power,” Nora said, making a small fist and punching the air. “Just the guys you date can’t handle you making all the decisions, and working 24/7, and you being you.”

“Is that what happened with Dimitri last night?” Rainey asked in an even, clinical tone. “Did he get run over?”

“Something like that.” Spencer picked up her silver pen on her desk, reliving exactly how Dimitri had been run over—by a big blond guy’s fist.

“But you vetted him so thoroughly,” Nora said.

“Maybe that’s it.” Rainey nodded. “Stop vetting them. Go with your gut, not the playbook.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow. “And just see…anyone?” The suggestion was absurd.

“She’s not a slut, Rainey.”

Rainey sighed at Nora’s assumption. “Anyone who you like. You have strong intuition. Your subconscious will guide you. Take a chance. See what happens.”

The thought of letting down her guard, not taking precautions and just trusting that little voice inside her head sounded nice, but it also sounded dangerous. When she wasn’t in control, bad things happened.

She got hurt.

Spencer was toying with her chicken breast and spinach salad when fingers were snapped in front of her face.

“Spencer,” Nora repeated the name as she snapped her fingers for a second time.

“That’s rude,” Rainey said.

“She’s not paying attention again.”

Spencer’s head jerked up. “Yes I am.”

“No you’re not,” Nora said. “I was just talking about he-who-must-not-be-named and you didn’t even flinch.”

“I don’t flinch.” Spencer stabbed a piece of chicken like it had done something to tick her off. “And what did
he
want?”

“Doctor Evil wanted an update on the benefit.” Nora used a voice of impending doom to give that message.

Spencer grimaced. “I’ll call him when we’re done with the to-do’s.”

Nora nodded and checked off the last thing on her list. “Okay, that’s all the to-do’s for today.”

“And the week,” Rainey added.

Spencer looked up in confusion. “What?”

“That got her attention,” Nora chuckled under her breath.

“You’re done. You’re taking some time off.” Rainey straightened a stack of papers and print-outs on Spencer’s desk.

“I don’t do time off,” Spencer said, lifting her chin. “I’m just tired today. The benefit was…”

“Last night,” Rainey interrupted. She bundled several spreadsheets under her arm. “We’re actually at a very manageable client load right now. Nora and I can handle everything for a few days, while you take a break.”

“I don’t need a break.” Spencer sat straighter in her chair.

They were tough women who cared, and she loved them for it.

“I’m a doctor, and I say you need a break.” Rainey crossed her arms, clearly having made up her mind.

“You have a PhD,” Spencer pointed out mulishly.

Rainey stuck to her guns. “Doctor’s orders.”

“I don’t do breaks,” Spencer muttered.

Nora pushed Spencer’s cell phone across the desk. “Why don’t you call Doctor Evil back. You might decide differently after you deal with him.”

…

Spencer steeled herself for the conversation.

“Clayton.”

“George,” she responded when her father’s chief of staff answered the phone.

“Hello, Spencer.”

As always, she had the feeling her words were being checked off a very long, very formal checklist. Printed on vellum. In red, white, and blue embossed calligraphy. “I’m calling for an update on the Hightower Hospital Benefit.”

George’s formality rubbed her raw, even though she’d known him for sixteen years, since he first volunteered for her father’s Presidential campaign and subsequently served as the Senator’s right hand man. And in the years since, Spencer had learned almost everything she knew from him.

“All went as expected,” Spencer answered, knowing her brevity would frustrate him.

“Excellent. So the function raised how much?”

Spencer named the number.

“That’s fifteen percent lower than last year.”

Either George was an undiscovered math genius or…

“If you had the numbers already, why did you call me?” Spencer asked, trying to keep the bite of annoyance out of her voice.

“It’s my job,” was George’s clipped reply.

“Next year, you can be the honorary chair.” Spencer knew she sounded petulant. But, honestly, she didn’t need a babysitter.

“If you need help, you only need to ask.” George spoke the right words, but Spencer understood the deeper meaning. That she couldn’t do the job. She couldn’t represent the family.

“Bless your heart, George.” Spencer switched on her ultimate weapon, southern charm. “I don’t know what we Hightowers would do without you to take care of us.”

George could never resist when she sounded sweet, so he moved on. “Any other incidents of note I should be aware of? Conversations? Issues?”

Spencer decided to throw him a bone. “Mrs. Betty Phillips had to be moved. She was a table too close to the current Mrs. Phillips. Other than that, everything went smoothly.” Her hand subconsciously went to her cheekbone, where a dark shadow lay under her makeup.

“Great.” George’s voice was flat in contrast to the word. “Okay, let me know if anything else comes up.”

“Of course, sugar.” Spencer laid it on thick. “See you soon. Say hi to Daddy for me.”

“Yes, ma’am. Good-bye, Spencer.” George’s tone let her know he wasn’t warming to her charm anytime soon.

Spencer took a steadying breath after hanging up and leaned her head back into her chair, the frustration of the past twenty-four hours welling up inside her. Talking to George was almost as bad as a conversation with the Senator himself. It had been years since she’d needed explicit approval for her decisions, but the implicit insinuation was always there to put the family name first, to overcome all obstacles, to win everything.

She knew what George would say–what her father would say–if they knew about the loose ends from the night before. It made her neck tense just to think about it. Her phone buzzed with a reminder, and Spencer reached for it, without thinking, like someone would reach for a cigarette, or a Valium. Maybe Nora and Rainey had been right; maybe she did need a break. Just a weekend, to get her head straight. What was the worst that could happen?

Chapter Three

For nearly one hundred years, the Buchanan Ranch had stretched over a wide swath of rolling prairies south of Fort Worth. Hundreds of acres of rangeland surrounded the homestead, originally a three-room clapboard house, now a sprawling, luxurious home clad in limestone and featuring the most modern of conveniences.

Except cell service.

Spencer swore again at the useless piece of plastic in her hand. She’d phoned her childhood friend JT Buchanan when she left Dallas to let him know she’d attend his birthday weekend. She hugged Anita, the house manager, when she arrived and was led straight to the room she’d stayed in so many times before.

JT had celebrated every one of his thirty-two birthdays at the family ranch. The pool party was just the start of the traditional activities. He and his buddies were already whooping it up on the back patio. There would be a barbeque later that night. The next day would be ATV tours of the ranch or mudding in the ridiculously tricked out 4x4 that JT’s brother kept at the house. The only thing that made this weekend fall short of the perfect guy’s weekend was the fact that JT’s birthday fell tragically in April with not a football game in sight.

Spencer was not interested in the cannonballs, the kegs, or the camouflage. She had come because maybe Rainey might have been a little right. Breaks were healthy. Breaks kept a woman strong and capable for the next hurricane coming her way. So she had packed a bag for the weekend, hoping for a nice weekend away from the city where she could catch up on work in peace.

She scowled at the cell phone and wondered if she knew anyone at the carrier who could rearrange a few satellites. Maybe she could pull a few strings… But even Spencer knew that was ridiculous. Maybe. She could mention it to JT, though. A man rumored to be running for state office needed reliable cell phone service at his weekend house.

With a sigh of resignation, Spencer decided it was time to join the party.

…

Twenty minutes later, Spencer checked her outfit to make sure she was presentable. She wasn’t a vain person. She was realistic. The white cover-up was long enough to hide the pale, dimpled scar that twisted around her upper right thigh. She wasn’t ashamed of her body or her scars. Spencer was proud of the fact that she was a survivor, healthy and strong, but she hated when she had to answer questions about it. She’d moved on. The rest of the world needed to join her.

She accessorized with the basics: flip flops and her Blackberry. Just because she didn’t have cell service in her room didn’t mean that she had to permanently give up hope for a signal.

The cell service didn’t magically appear when she went downstairs, or when she stepped onto the patio. Spencer barely noticed the group gathered in and around the pool, or the country music that blared from the built-in speakers.

She was so engrossed in her phone that when someone yelled her name, she startled.

Across the pool, an athletic male drew her attention, like a moth staring into a bug zapper. There was something familiar about him. She was distracted by golden skin decorated with tattoos that only highlighted broad shoulders, a sculpted chest and abs…
Oh, God
. Spencer swallowed hard. That body needed to be carved into marble.

Spencer Hightower was a level-headed, practical woman, but a body like that made a tense, hot tendril wrap around her belly.

The last time she’d felt this way, she’d been staring into Mystery Man’s eyes.

Shit
.

She gasped for air as the body jumped in the pool, her gaze following his powerful back and legs as they swam towards her. As he neared the surface, the ladylike part of her brain reminded her to wipe the drool off her chin. She tried to recover composure, but it wasn’t quite enough when two simultaneous shocks hit her system. First, the perfect male body surfaced and revealed the piercing eyes of her Mystery Man. Second, she was unceremoniously tossed in the pool.

…

Liam pulled the floundering woman to him.

She’d walked around the pool, focused on that damn piece of technology.
Spencer
. At the benefit, she’d said her name like he should know it. Liam wondered how he’d ever find her again and there she was, parading through his afternoon like a
Sports Illustrated
swimsuit model. The shirt she had on covered a great deal of skin, but her long, lean legs were bare. His imagination sprang to life. All he could think about was how good she’d look wearing his shirt and nothing else.

Liam had needed another dive in the pool. The deep end, preferably. Otherwise, the effect Spencer had on him would have been obvious to everyone.

The water distracted him for only a moment before he came up for air and caught her eye. He had no time to warn her before JT’s brother Zach pushed her in the pool with a big goofy laugh.

A big splash and Liam had her, pulling her into his arms with no effort at all. Buoyed by the heated water, he slid one arm around her waist and lifted a thigh to help stabilize her in the deep end. The shirt was now plastered to her shoulders and breasts, the white fabric transparent and tantalizing with just enough hint of skin.

“Hi,” Liam said with a smile. “I’m Liam.” Recognition flared in her eyes, and another emotion that seemed very much like doubt. Or fear.

“Hi, Liam,” she said softly.

His grin widened. He liked the way she whispered his name, especially with that tantalizing drop of water trembling on her bottom lip.

“Hi, Spencer.” It was like they were the only two people in the pool, floating and entwined. Her legs had wrapped around his thigh, straddling him and fitting perfectly. Liam wished the water was about fifty degrees colder, because there was no way she could miss the evidence of his attraction.

“Are you okay?” He asked, vaguely aware that others were shouting similar questions. He wasn’t concerned about them. He reached up and gently wiped the back of his index finger under her eye and realized it wasn’t damp mascara causing the faint smudge there. At the reminder of the jerk at the benefit, his question took on even greater importance.

Spencer pulled back a little. For a second, he thought she was about to say something. Then, with another flash of that strange expression, she let go of his arms. Her legs left his thigh, and she floated backward and yelled at the younger Buchanan brother.

Liam stayed in the pool and watched as she climbed out. That white material clinging to every dripping inch of her athletic body. A wet dream.

He accepted a beer that one of JT’s friends dangled from the safety of the dry side of the pool. Except, unlike most wet dreams, this one was going to take a lot longer to fade away.

…

Spencer forced herself to go through the motions. She playfully slapped Zach Buchanan and threatened retribution. She graciously accepted a towel JT’s old high school girlfriend offered her, and laughed with JT as he teased her. When he offered her a margarita on the rocks, she accepted readily, knocking half of it back in almost a single gulp. JT watched her curiously but didn’t protest when she asked for a second a few minutes later.

Pretending came easy for Spencer, even when her insides were all twisted and churning because of a few seconds in the arms of Mystery Man.
Liam
, she corrected herself. In a series of efficient clicks, her brain put it all together. JT had mentioned he was bringing a friend to the hospital benefit, his law school roommate, just relocated to Dallas from Los Angeles. Which explained why he’d been there, and why he was here. What it didn’t explain was… why was she reacting this way? Again.

JT brought her the second margarita, and she sipped eagerly. “You sure you’re ok?” He asked, knowing her better than almost anyone. Spencer nodded. A lie and a smile were second-nature to a Hightower woman. They covered up a lot—for others and for themselves. Because how was she supposed to explain to JT, the thing setting her on edge was still in the pool-his muscled arms casually stretched out along the stone coping, his alert eyes watching her. Heat rose up her neck to her face. Obviously, it was the tequila because she didn’t ever blush. And certainly not over a hot piece of trouble in swim trunks.

The second margarita didn’t calm or relax her, so she sent Zach off to make her a third. Settling into a deck chair to wait on the drink, she fidgeted with her drying shirt, ran her fingers through her damp hair, and lifted her face to the warm Texas sun. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and let the warmth sink into her nervous bones. Cold glass pressed against the back of her hand, and she opened her eyes to thank Zach. But Liam stood over her, backlit by the bright sunshine. Her heart thudded as she took the glass, her fingers brushing his.

“Thank you.”

He settled down in the deck chair next to hers, lying on his back. At the benefit, she hadn’t been fully present enough to appreciate his strong, high cheekbones and chiseled jaw, covered with a two-day beard. His blue eyes crinkled at the sides. He was a man who laughed. A lot.

His short sun-bleached hair was a little spiked and messy, and oh so sexy. His full lips twisted as if he couldn’t help smiling. At her.

Spencer bit her lip at the sight of his golden skin and the many multicolored tattoos decorating his chest, arms, and shoulders. She wanted to trace them with her fingers, making a slow, deliberate trail. He must’ve noticed her checking him out because Liam’s mouth curved in a lopsided way, a charming, confident smirk. “I thought you’d need something to take the edge off the disappointment.”

“What disappointment?”

He reached out, and her heart thumped an extra beat until she realized what was in his hand. “Found this at the bottom of the pool. I tried giving it mouth to mouth, but I’m afraid it was too late.”

Liam dropped Spencer’s Blackberry into her hand. Automatically, she hit a button with her thumb, but there was no flash of light or answering buzz. She would strangle Zach Buchanan.

“Kicked the bucket?” Liam asked.

“I’ve been meaning to upgrade,” she said. “I’ll send Zach the bill,” she joked.

Liam smiled back, and her breath seemed to catch in her throat. “About the other night,” he started. Spencer took a quick glance around. They were alone. The rest of JT’s guests were at the outdoor kitchen, cheering on one of JT’s frat brothers and a contraption attached to a beer keg. She made a mental note to remind JT that he was over thirty years old and running for public office. His days of keg races should be over.

“Yes?” Spencer sat up a little, smoothing the towel around her lap.

“I’m glad to see you here. I didn’t know if I’d be able to find you again. And I wanted to see you again.”

Spencer’s mouth dropped into an O, and she never gaped like a frog. That was unladylike. His eyes twinkled, she remembered Rainey’s advice, and she took a chance.

“I wanted to—”

“Give me my coat back?” The look he gave her smoldered, and she almost forgot what she was going to say.

I wanted to see you again, too? Pin you down? Kiss you senseless?

“Yes, of course. Your coat. I wanted to give your coat back. Thanks so much for loaning it to me.” His lips distracted her. “I don’t have it here, I left it at home. In Dallas.” She babbled.
Way to stay classy.

“Great. I don’t have another black suit.”

“I’ll get it back to you.”

“No rush, whenever. Maybe you can bring it to me on our first date.”

“A date?” She asked dumbly.

He nodded. “A date. We can’t have a second date without a first. I’m not going to brag, but my second dates are killer.”

“Really?” She put a hand up to her wet hair, smoothing down any potential craziness there, since she couldn’t control what was coming out of her mouth.

“I’ll cook for you. I’m an excellent cook.”

“Are you?” Spencer lifted an eyebrow. She bet he was excellent at many other things, as well.

Liam settled into the deck chair, lifting his face to the sun, his eyes closed. “Although it might have to be at your place, since I haven’t moved into mine yet.”

Curiosity made Spencer ask the obvious next question. “What happens on the third date?”

Liam opened one eye at her. “Well, we’ll see on Wednesday.”

Spencer couldn’t help but smile. “But today’s Friday.”

He gave up on the sun worshipping and flipped to his side, giving her his full attention. Now it was like the sun was in her eyes.

“Too slow?” He asked.

She pretended to consider it. “Three dates in three days? I think most people would consider that moving fast.”

“Three days?” Liam held up his fingers and counted. “From now until Wednesday? That’s five days. That’s plenty of time especially when…”

“When what?”

Liam caught her gaze. “You want to get to the third date as fast as possible.”

Her breath caught. Never had the words “third date” been so thrilling. “I was counting from Monday,” she said.

Liam flipped to his back, stretched out his legs, and put his hands behind his head, supremely assured. “So Monday’s our first date, then. Looking forward to it.”

At the sight of all that long, muscled flesh, laid out for her viewing pleasure, she pressed her weakening knees together, just in case they decided to do something unladylike.
Calm yourself. You don’t even know this guy.

“Not so fast. I don’t even know you. What do you d—”

“Let’s not do that.” Liam cut Spencer off.

“Do what?”

“Ask each other a bunch of questions. Put each other in little boxes…”

“But what if you’re a serial killer?” she asked, her voice rising with incredulity. She didn’t go out with strangers. She knew exactly what she was getting into before saying yes.
Like with Dimitri
, a taunting voice said in her head.

Liam chuckled. “Ask JT. He’ll vouch for me. Although, that last year of law review did make me a little crazy.”

“But I…”

Liam interrupted again. “I’m single, straight, and I’ve only been arrested twice in my life.”

“Only twice?” Spencer couldn’t help asking. Two arrests didn’t sound like a lot, but if one was for carjacking or insider trading, she should know.