Standing in the Shadows (McClouds & Friends #2)(33)

He grunted, and flicked open the lock on the sliding door. The wind off the ocean hit him like a slap. His coat billowed and snapped around his legs. The near impossibility of getting a cigarette lit under those conditions was a welcome challenge.

Anything to distract him from the way she had of putting him right in his place. One more of those regal, intergalactic-princess looks from her, and he would be ready to sit, lie down, roll over, and beg.

Don't give it another thought, his ass. He could almost laugh.

Like anything in life was ever that easy.



Erin hugged herself as she stared out the window. Connor cupped his hand against the wind and lit his cigarette after a few tries. He draped himself across the weathered wooden banister as he smoked it, scowling to the right and the left as if expecting attack from every side.

Oh, God, he was handsome. Everything about him was sexy. Even the way he smoked was sexy, and she deplored smoking. She wanted to snoop through the battered duffel he had flung on the bed. She wanted to see what toothpaste he used, to smell his shirts, to peek at the picture on his driver's license. She was out of her mind.

So he didn't intend to take advantage of the situation.

Well, then. Too bad for him. She would just have to take advantage of the situation herself. He was all alone with her. At her mercy. If that kiss in the car was any indication, he probably wouldn't object too strenuously to being used for sex. Her girlfriends had told her that men usually didn't.

Yes. Using him for sex. That was the only way to do this and come out of it intact. She had to use him before he could use her. She had to stay detached, keep the upper hand. Calm, cool, no big deal. Happened every day. Her girlfriends boasted about it.

Oh, God. Her head spun, and she sat down hard on the bed.

How could she be calm? She was scared to death. Bradley had told her she was as frigid as Greenland's icy mountains. But frigid meant that you didn't want sex, and that certainly wasn't her case. She wanted Connor so badly, she was frozen with fear.

But then again, wasn't that what frigid literally meant? Frozen. No matter what the cause, the end result was the same. Maybe they would both be in for a painful disappointment.

The sight of her organizer sticking out of her purse gave her an unpleasant shock. She'd gotten so carried away thinking about sex, she'd forgotten the purpose of her trip. She should take advantage of this moment alone to conduct some damage control. She flipped open her organizer, dialed the Silver Fork Resort and asked for Nigel Dobbs.

"Hello?" came Dobbs's clipped, snooty voice.

"Mr. Dobbs? This is Erin Riggs."

"Ms. Riggs! At last! We were quite worried about you."

"I appreciate your concern, and I'm so sorry I didn't have a chance to call and…" Her voice trailed off. Connor slid the glass door open with a resounding thud and stalked in, leaving it wide open. He stood inches in front of her, glaring. Cold, wet salt air swirled around him.

"Hello? Hello? Ms. Riggs, are you still there?"

"Ah, yes, I am. Excuse me. It must be a bad connection," she said hastily. "Ah, I'm so sorry. I'm, ah…"

"Are you all right? Are you in some kind of trouble?"

Oh, you have no idea. "Not at all," she assured him. "I'm fine."

"Do you need someone to come and pick you up?"

"No, thank you. That's why I called. I wanted to apologize for not notifying you in time to stop the driver from going to the airport in Portland. I had a change of plans and—"

"Tell them your boyfriend came along," Connor said.

She stared up at him, mouth working uselessly.

Dobbs's impatient sigh was audible. "Ms. Riggs? Do you intend to inform me of the nature of your change of plans at some point?"

She swallowed hard. "My… my boyfriend came along."

There was a long silence. "I see."

"He met up with me in Portland, and gave me a ride, and we've already checked into another hotel, so I—"

"Then I take it you will be unable to dine with Mr. Mueller. He will be very disappointed. Mr. Mueller's time is in extremely high demand."

"But I didn't know Mr. Mueller was going to be at the hotel this evening," she faltered. "I thought he was arriving very late tonight!"

"He changed his plans when he received your e-mail." Dobbs's voice was gelid. "He is arriving this afternoon. What a pity, hmm?"

Erin closed her eyes and mouthed a silent curse. "Well, urn… maybe I can—"

"No." Connor's voice was hard and carrying. "No way. No dinner with that guy tonight. Forget it."

Nigel Dobbs coughed. "Ahem. Perhaps it would be for the best if you resolved your personal problems at a safe distance. I will inform Mr. Mueller of your change of plans when he arrives."

"Thank you," she said miserably.

"And should Mr. Mueller risk using your professional services another time, I would consider it a tremendous favor if you would give us prior notice of these changes. Mr. Mueller took an earlier flight from Paris expressly for the purpose of dining with you. If you had called to tell us of your change of plans, I would have advised you of this."

"Oh, God," she murmured. "I'm so sorry."