Under the Tycoon's Protection (10 page)

“You know, Allison,” Ava said gently, as if knowing this was a sensitive subject, “you are at the point in your career when a lot of the Assistant DAs would be starting to think about their next job.”

James Whittaker cast his daughter a sober look. “And, under the circumstances, you might want to think carefully about that.”

“What circumstances, Dad?” Allison asked. “This was an isolated case of one disturbed individual attempting to intimidate and harass me.” She shrugged. “It's not as if it hasn't happened to other prosecutors.”

Quentin cleared his throat and spoke up. “We were all worried sick about you.”

“Anyway, it's not as if the Assistant DA's job is the only potentially dangerous one in the world,” Allison went on. “Mom is a family judge, but I don't see anyone here worried about one of the parties in her cases coming after her.”

“That's because it hasn't happened,” Quentin replied. “Whereas someone was firing bullets at you just a couple of weeks ago if you'll recall.”

Connor sensed that Allison was reining in her temper with difficulty. “Maybe I want to rise through the ranks at the DA's Office, has anyone thought about that?” she demanded.

He wasn't known for his diplomacy, but Connor
nevertheless decided it was probably time that he stepped in. “Maybe we're not giving Allison the credit she's due.”

Allison turned to look at him, the expression on her face saying she was wondering whether she'd heard him correctly.

Not glancing at her, he added, “I know I haven't.”

“Thanks,” Allison said from beside him, her tone tinged with surprise.

He addressed himself to all the Whittakers, who were exhibiting a range of emotions from quiet amusement to unmasked interest. “I've been with Allison night and day for the past several weeks,” he said, hoping the Whittakers didn't take the “night and day” part too literally. “I've seen how tough she can be when the circumstances call for it.”

Noah guffawed. “I'll say. And not just when the circumstances call for it, either.”

From the corner of his eye, Connor saw Allison purse her lips.

Noah gave a mock shiver. “I rest my case.”

“The truth is,” Connor continued, “she refused to be cowed by the threats and she's certainly got the guts to be a prosecutor.”

He looked at Allison, who was regarding him with questions in her eyes. He took a deep breath. “So, if Allison has set her sights on rising through the ranks at the DA's Office, I say more power to her.”

Maybe it was because he'd finally acknowledged to himself that he loved her, but suddenly he was seeing the Whittakers through Allison's eyes. Her family knew she'd been performing a tough job well at the DA's Office, but none of them, it seemed, could get past some protective instincts where she was concerned.

And he'd been the most guilty of all. He'd unfairly been lumping her together with all the spoiled little rich girls he'd come to know, both through his security business and as an eligible and wealthy bachelor. It had been, he acknowledged, an easy way to keep her at an emotional distance and fight his perverse attraction to her.

Allison's brothers and sister-in-law looked thoughtful, while Allison's parents appeared similarly reflective.

Matt was the first to speak. “Connor has a point. We've all been thinking of Ally as someone we love and want to protect. Maybe that's blinded us to how tough and resilient she really is.”

“We just wanted to make sure you didn't get hurt, sweetheart,” Allison's father said. “Our intention wasn't to stifle you, but things may have gotten a little confused along the way.”

“Yes,” Ava agreed. “I'm sorry if we've come across as a bit heavy-handed sometimes, Ally. It's only because we love you.”

“I guess if we're handing out apologies,” Quentin added, “I should say ditto for me.”

“If continuing to be a prosecutor is really what you want to do, we'll support you, of course,” Ava said, looking at her husband for his concurring nod. “Naturally, the decision is yours. All we wanted was to make sure it was a well thought out decision.”

Allison smiled at her mother. “Thanks, Mom.”

Connor caught the quick look she sent his way before she added, “And try not to worry too much. Thanks to Connor, I've learned that maybe I should have been paying more attention to my personal safety.”

She'd learned that, had she? Connor took some satisfaction in that. It would help when he was out of her house—and out of her life—again.

 

As the last of the guests were leaving, Allison was in the kitchen of her parents' house, packing up some food that the caterers had left behind. She looked up as her sister-in-law Liz approached.

“Hi,” Liz said, picking up her purse and diaper bag from the kitchen counter. “Quentin and I were just about to depart.” She stopped, giving Allison a searching look. “You look miserable.”

“Thanks,” she said wryly. She opened the refrigerator door and put some plastic containers inside.

Liz cocked her head as if contemplating something.
“Which is surprising when you think about it. I mean, Kendall has been caught. You should be ecstatic.”

She should be, but she wasn't. She almost felt sorry for Kendall. She supposed the embezzlement allowed him to maintain a high-flying lifestyle. Having been born into a wealthy and connected family, however, she could have told him that wealth and fame could sometimes be a gilded cage.

But what was really bothering her was Connor. He'd helped catch Kendall. He'd defended her to her family. And now he was getting out of her life.

She should have been thrilled. Wasn't that what she'd told him she wanted?

Yet, Liz was right. She was miserable.

“And, because you look miserable, let me return a favor,” Liz continued.

“What?”

“Last year you helped me realize that I shouldn't give up on Quentin, that Quentin loved me and all I needed to do was push a little more.” She smiled. “So, I'm trying to return the favor.”

Allison shrugged. “Thank you for making the effort, but, much as I hate to tell you, this is a whole different kettle of fish.”

Liz laughed. “No, it's not. You just think it is because you're too deeply involved in it. You're exactly where I was last year.”

Allison stared at her friend for a second. Last year,
after some prodding, Liz had admitted that she was in love with Quentin.

Liz was right. She herself wasn't just in danger of falling in love with Connor. She was head-over-heels, irrevocably, no-holds-barred in love.

Yet, Connor had announced that he'd be moving out of the townhouse this weekend and she'd just nodded mutely. If he loved her, would he be leaving?

She'd discovered that he'd insisted on not being paid for his security services. And he'd stayed by her side despite her attempts to get rid of him and despite the fact that he had no obligation to do so. She wanted to believe that meant something…but was she reading too much into it?

Quentin walked into the kitchen. “There you are,” he said, giving his wife a gentle peck on the lips. “I've been looking for you. Are you ready to go?”

Liz smiled. “Yes, sorry to keep you waiting. Allison and I were just having a heart-to-heart.”

“Oh, yeah?” Quentin asked. “What about?”

“Connor,” Liz said simply.

“Ah.”

“What do you mean ‘ah'?” Allison asked. “And why did Connor insist on volunteering?”

Quentin looked amused. “That would be the million-dollar question, wouldn't it?” he quipped. “God knows why. Maybe he's a glutton for punishment.”

Allison gave him a nonplussed look.

In response, Quent just looked at her consideringly. “Why don't you ask him?” he suggested finally.

“If I wanted to do that, I wouldn't have asked you, would I?” she returned tartly.

Quentin grinned. “Chicken.”

She tossed her hair. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Don't you?” Quentin replied as he headed back toward the door. “I'll be outside trying to pry the baby out of Mom's arms so I can get him into his car seat.”

Soon after, Liz and Quentin departed the party, but not before Liz leaned in to whisper in her ear as they said goodbye, “Everything will be okay. You'll see.”

On the drive back to Boston with Connor, Quentin's words sounded in Allison's head.
Why don't you ask him?

M
emorial Day. She should have been out playing with the rest of the world. Instead, she was in her kitchen, pretending to be doing…things.

The truth was, she was in the doldrums.

Connor was upstairs packing…despite the fact that so much remained unresolved between them. Despite the fact that she didn't want him to go.

A few weeks ago she would have said the idea was preposterous. But, a few weeks ago they hadn't been thrown together in the same house…they hadn't had wild and passionate sex…she hadn't fallen in love with him. He'd sneaked into her heart—if he'd ever left.

The fact that he'd refused to be paid to protect her
gave her some small measure of hope. There would have been a time when she'd have seen his volunteering as further evidence that Connor was just as overprotective as her family. But given what she knew of him now, she thought it was just another way for him to show he cared.

Connor protected those he cared about. It went to the core of what he was. It went back to being the son of a police officer killed in the line of duty, back to funding community projects in his old neighborhood.

Of course, the fact that he viewed the Whittakers as a substitute family could explain a lot about why he'd volunteered his services. He could simply have been doing her family a favor.

Yet, there was a part of her that refused to believe that was the whole explanation—at least, she hoped there was more to it. Because he hadn't only volunteered his company's services. Rather, he had insisted on protecting her himself when he could have delegated the task to someone on his staff, which would surely have been the logical thing to do since he probably had enough on his hands running his company.

When she'd thought Quentin was paying Connor for his services, she'd just assumed that her brother had insisted Connor take a personal hand in the matter. Instead, it had been Connor who had insisted. She liked to think it was because he cared about her, desired her…and more.

Quentin's question sounded in her head again.
Why don't you ask him?

At a thump overhead, she looked up at the ceiling. Connor was up there packing and she was down here feeling all nervous and jittery. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the thought of the conversation she should be having with him, but inexplicable shyness made the task seem daunting.

Annoyed with herself, she threw down the dish towel she'd been absentmindedly using to wipe the kitchen counter.

As she went up, she thought about what she could say to him. It's suddenly occurred to me that I love you? Our relationship may be a mistake, but it's a mistake I want to spend the rest of my life making?

Maybe she should just start with, don't go.
Don't go. Please don't go.

She walked along the upstairs hallway and stopped at the open doorway to the spare bedroom. Connor was tossing some jeans into a suitcase. Her heart wrenched.

He looked tough and forbidding. And pulse-flutteringly gorgeous. In a pale blue T-shirt and jeans, he projected a casual sexiness.

He looked up and, when he saw her standing in the doorway, he paused for a second, folded T-shirts in hand, before resuming his packing. “If you've come to do a victory dance at seeing the back of me,
you're a little early. I won't be ready to walk out the door for a while yet.”

She rubbed sweaty palms on the cargo pants she was wearing and walked into the room. “That's not why I'm here.”

“Really?” He stopped packing and looked up at her. “Then why are you here, petunia?”

She bit her lip and then folded her hands together in front of her. “To say thank you. And to apologize.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Thank you for what?”

“For helping me.” She took a deep breath. “For capturing Kendall.” For defending me to my family. For making me love you.

“And what's the apology for?”

“For giving you a hard time along the way.”

“That's the second apology I've gotten from you in two weeks, princess.” His lips curled into a sardonic smile. “Must be a record.”

Despite her best intentions, she found herself becoming irritated by his taunting tone. And, frankly, it was easier to deal with him behind the shield of her annoyance.
Coward.
“What about the apology you owe me?” she demanded. “I haven't heard any apology cross your lips, Rafferty.”

He sighed. “Okay, I'm going to play along here. Apology for what? Sleeping with you?”

Her lips tightened. “You purposely misled me
about your security services. Quentin didn't hire you. You volunteered.”

He folded his arms and nodded. “All right, I admit I'm guilty of doing that. I apologize. Is that all you came here to say?”

“Why?” she asked.

“Why what?”

“Why did you volunteer?”

He regarded her for a second before answering, his face inscrutable. “Just following through on what I told Quentin I'd do, which was beefing up your security.”

“No, I mean, why did you volunteer when Quentin could well have afforded to hire you? And why did you show up when you could have sent any number of the experts that Rafferty Security has on its payroll? Why did you insist on staying when you had no obligation to?” There, she'd gotten it out.

He unfolded his arms. “I think you know the answer to those questions,” he said softly.

Her chin came up. “No, I don't. Why don't you enlighten me?”

“Have any theories suggested themselves?”

A quiver started in the pit of her stomach as he came closer. “You were doing a favor for a friend you consider to be practically family?”

He nodded, seeming to mull it over. “That would be a theory. Do you believe it?”

“Is it true?” she countered.

“No.”

She backed up, but he kept on coming.

“I wouldn't say that was my major motivation, much as I like your family.”

She skirted the side of the bed and found herself with her back to the wall. “You must not like them that much then,” she said breathlessly.

He braced an arm against the wall near her head and caressed her cheek with the knuckles of his other hand. “Maybe I like you more.”

Her heart plummeted. Like, not love.

She shoved at his chest and started to stalk past him, but he grabbed her arm and whirled her around. She felt the wall at her back seconds before his lips came down on hers.

It was the way it always was between them. A heavy dose of wanting and need shot through her. Her sense of the world around them dulled even as she became sensitized to his every touch…his lips molding hers…his body pressing against her.

She broke his hold on her to twine her arms around his neck, kissing him back with all the ardor she had kept pent up inside her.

As soon as he felt her willing response, he groaned and took the kiss deeper. His hands moved restlessly up and down her sides before one shimmied down her leg and then snaked around to cup her bottom and bring her flush up against him, letting her feel his erection.

Finally, he tore his mouth from hers and they broke apart. They were both breathing heavily. He looked as if he still had half a mind to take up where they had just left off, which was, she realized, not far from how she was feeling.

He spoke first. “You are hands-down the most frustrating woman I've ever known, petunia.”

“Same goes,” she parried.

And then his face was devoid of its usual sardonically amused expression, and what she read there made her breath catch in her throat. “Are you going to make me say it, princess?” He paused, holding her gaze so that she couldn't look away. “The reason I volunteered is that the thought of anything happening to you tore me up inside. I wanted to rip to shreds the bastard who was terrorizing you.”

“Connor—”

“No, let me finish,” he said fiercely. “I may never be as polished as the guys down at the country club, but I have plenty of money these days. You'd have trouble spending all of it even if you tried.”

She nodded. A giddy happiness was growing and spreading within her. Not about the money, but about the fact that he was laying his soul bare.

“More importantly, we have tons of chemistry between us. The kind of chemistry that a lot of people spend a lifetime looking for and don't find.”

She nodded again, her heart melting.

“And you sure as hell aren't going to find a man who loves you more than I do. Because it isn't possible. I'm so in love with you I ache with it.”

He loved her. The confession was blunt and to the point—just like Connor—and she couldn't ask for anything more. Unexpected tears welled up in her eyes.

He gave her another fierce look. “So, get used it, petunia. You're under this tycoon's protection for the duration.”

“May I say something?” she asked almost meekly, her smile tremulous.

“Only if it's what I'm waiting to hear. Are you ready to say the words, petunia? Because if you're not—” he looked down and gave her a slow, heated perusal “—I can be very convincing.”

“Darn it, Rafferty,” she said, blinking rapidly. “You're going to make me cry.”

He caught a tear with the pad of his thumb. “Tears over me?” he said softly.

“Yes,” she said, then sniffed and blinked. “You are the most irritating and annoyingly smug man I've ever met and I love you. Madly and passionately.”

He grinned, genuine happiness suffusing his face. “I'd say mad and passionate sort of sums up our relationship.”

“We'll never be dull,” she agreed.

“I can't believe you were going to let me walk out that door today.”

“I can't believe you were planning to walk out,” she countered.

He gave her a lopsided grin. “Even if I had, I'd already formulated a backup plan.”

“Oh?” she inquired. “And what would that be?”

“To woo you and make such a pest of myself that you'd realize we were destined to be together.”

“I realized that long ago,” she said wryly.

He looked surprised. “Do tell.”

Since they were being completely honest, she figured she owed him the truth. “I had the teenage crush on you to end all teenage crushes.”

He chuckled. “Now
that
I find hard to believe.”

“Believe it,” she said firmly. “Why do you think I was in that bar that night? Why do you think it was so humiliating for me to have you of all people turn me in to my parents?”

“You were there because you thought I'd be there?” he asked, astonishment showing on his face.

She nodded. “I figured if I acted grown up, you'd think I was. Instead, you hauled me home as if I were a sack of potatoes.”

He shook his head. “If I'd known you were there for me, I'm not sure I could have resisted you up to now.”

Now it was her turn to look disbelieving. “I thought you did a good job of acting as if I were completely resistible.”

“
Acting
would be the operative word there,” he
said dryly. “Over the years, it became easy to treat you as if you were just a spoiled little rich girl. It meant I didn't have to analyze my feelings too closely.”

“You said something in the kitchen after I had turned the water nozzle on you—”

He smiled. “Yeah, how can I forget?”

“You referred to ‘what's always been between us.' I thought you knew about my teenage crush.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I meant the electricity that practically crackles between us whenever we're in the same room.”

She reached out to caress his jaw, tracing the crescent-shaped scar on his chin. “Why didn't you ever say anything?”

He sighed but his eyes remained intense on hers. “You were the younger sister of my old college buddy. The precious gem of a socially prominent family. The daughter of people who've treated me like a son.” He paused. “There's a trust there that you don't betray.”

“Sometimes I wish they wouldn't think of me as quite so precious,” she grumbled. Yet, she had to respect Connor's code of honor. It was part of why she loved him, she realized.

“I know, petunia.” He turned his head and kissed her palm. “But it's only because they care.”

“I lumped you in the same category with them,
you know. Then I realized that what I thought of as high-handed overprotectiveness was just a way for you to show you cared.”

“Oh, I cared all right.” He gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “But how did you come to that realization?”

“It was the night in the Berkshires. When you were talking about your father and then going back into your old neighborhood to try to make peoples' lives safer. I realized that's the way you showed you cared. By protecting the people and things you loved.”

He smiled but shook his head. “Before you give me too much credit, I did use some heavy-handed techniques where you were concerned.”

“You don't say?” she teased. “You mean, like getting the key to my house from Quentin? And moving right in when I told you to get lost?”

He looked contrite. “Yeah, that. In my defense, I'll say that it was only because I was scared out of my mind that something might happen to you.” He added, “But, you were right that I wasn't giving you the credit you deserved. If you want to continue at the DA's Office—”

She put her finger on his lips. “Shh.” She knew how hard this was for him. Having lost his father, it would be tough to see someone else he loved in harm's way. “You taught me not to be so lackadaisical about my safety and you were right. I thought I'd
done a fairly good job by taking self-defense classes. The truth was I was a bit cavalier. I'd been raised in a tight-knit family in a nice, quiet community and nothing terrible had ever happened to me. Certainly nothing as bad as having a parent shot and killed by a burglar.”