Billionaire Bad Boy (16 page)

They took her and the three other over zealous
protesters to the police station, recorded their details and gave them all one
phone call.

She used hers to call Zack. When she finished using
every swear word in her vocabulary, she managed to calm down enough to tell him
where she was. When she hung up, she couldn't remember if he'd said anything. Actually,
she wasn't even sure if she'd got him in person or his voice mail, but it had
felt damn good to let off steam.

The cop who marched her back to the cell eyed her with
caution and the other protesters backed away from her a little when she
rejoined them.

"Wow," said a sixty-ish woman with wild gray
hair sticking out at weird angles as if she'd been playing with an electrical
socket. "You've got a set of lungs on you, Girl. Way to go."

"Yeah," said the same kid who'd spoken to
her in the back of the van. "You tell them pigs where it's at."

She didn't have the heart to tell him she hadn't
yelled at the police. Besides, she could chalk up the episode as being good for
her image. Maybe she could get one of them to talk to Zack's journalist
friends.

An hour later she was let out of the cell and led into
a waiting room where Zack paced like a caged lion. He looked horrible. His hair
stood on end, his face was as hard as granite, and a small muscle twitched in
his jaw.

But she barely had time to notice these things. He
scooped her up and held her so tightly to his chest she thought she'd snap in
two.

"Jeez," he breathed into her hair. "I'm
sorry, Annie. I'm so sorry." He rubbed the back of her neck with his big,
warm hand. With her ear pressed to his chest, she could hear his heart beating
fiercely.

So he was worried about her. Maybe she should get
arrested more often.

He held her until a police officer coughed discreetly
and told them to move on. Zack caught her hand and led her out of the station
after giving the officer a glare.

"Did they hurt you?" He inspected her face
and neck then her arms. "If they did, I'll—"

"I'm fine." She headed to the Ferrari parked
out front. "How did you get me out so fast?"

"I know a couple of high-ranking cops. I told
them you weren't involved and they put the paperwork through straight
away." He paused at the hood of the Ferrari and caught her face in his
hands. "Are you sure you're okay?"

She nodded.

He let go and swore. "I shouldn't have left you. I
should have known you'd end up getting into trouble." He smacked the hood
of the car so hard she was surprised he didn't dent it.

"Gee, thanks." She pulled away but he caught
her hand and gently reeled her back to him. He placed his arms around her
shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

"I had a feeling about today." He kissed her
again in the same spot but this time he lingered, then gave her another fierce
hug before releasing her. "I'll take you home."

Home had a bed, a couch, and privacy. "No, that's
okay, you can drop me back at the office. I'm fine."

"Yeah, but I'm a nervous wreck. I need a
drink."

But instead of going home, he drove to a bar called
Ed's Place.

"What are we doing here?"

"I thought I'd show you where I came from. Ed's
Place was like a home to me years ago, before I made my money. I drop in
sometimes to say hi." He grinned. "Thought I'd bring you here since
you've now got a record. You'll fit right in."

"A record! But I thought—"

"Relax, I was joking." His eyes twinkled. "I
got them to drop the charges."

Ed's Place was dark and it took several moments before
her eyes adjusted. When they did, she noticed a few patrons dotted along the
polished bar, nursing beers. Most looked up when they walked in. Some nodded
and one or two got off their stools and shook Zack's hand or clapped him on the
back.

"Been a while, DiMarco," said the burly
barman when they sat at the bar. "What brings you back here today?"

"A clash with the cops."

The barman nodded as if he heard that sort of thing
all the time, and produced two beers without anyone asking. Annie didn't mind. She
actually felt she ought to be drinking beer after getting arrested. It just
seemed right.

Zack and Annie clanked bottles and took a swig of
their beers. She tried not to screw her nose up too much but a little twitch
got past her. Fortunately he was too busy talking to old friends to notice.

"DiMarco, long time no see." A man came up
to them and shook Zack's hand. He was in his early thirties, with a crew cut
and a face that looked like it had seen too much sun. But it was a face that
Annie instantly liked—all crinkles and dimples when he smiled. Which he
did a lot.

Zack introduced him as Mike, an Australian he'd known
for over fifteen years. Mike scanned her from head to toe, then nodded. "Nice,"
he said to Zack. "Too nice for a bloke like you."

"We used to be room mates," Zack explained
to Annie. "Mike came to LA around the same time I did. Neither of us had
any money but somehow we managed to survive in a tiny apartment in one of LA's
seedier suburbs." He laughed. "It was the worst place I've ever lived
in. The rats were bigger than the cats. Remember that place, Mike?"

"Remember it! I still live there."

Annie giggled. She liked him. He had a down-to-Earth
attitude. Nothing fake. He definitely wasn't LA material. She couldn't imagine
him
dating fluffy air-heads with implants.

"So what are you doing here?" she asked.

"I've come for a drink." He gave Zack a look
that said 'Is she loopy?'

"I think she means what are you doing in
LA."

"Oh." Mike rolled his eyes and placed an arm
around Annie's shoulders. He looked straight into her eyes without blinking. "Looking
for the love of my life."

"Like I said, what are you doing
here
?"
she said.

Mike chuckled. "I like this girl. Cynical. Smartass.
Just my type." He clanked his beer glass against hers and pulled up a
stool. "Definitely not yours, DiMarco."

She glanced quickly at Zack but his expression was
unreadable.

"So what do you do, Sweetheart?" Mike asked,
leaning closer.

"I'm an agent."

His expression changed and Annie got the answer to her
question—he was an actor trying to make it in Hollywood. Just like nearly
everyone else in Tinsel Town.

"Music," she added to put him at ease.

He relaxed and his dimples and crinkles returned. He
drained his beer and thumped the glass on the bar. "So what's a gorgeous
girl like you doing with this old loser?" He grinned and nodded at Zack.

She shrugged. "Riding motorbikes, getting
arrested, that sort of thing."

He chuckled. "Sounds just like old times."

While Zack ordered another round of beers, Mike sidled
closer. "Seriously, what are you doing with him?"

That was a very personal question from someone she'd
just met. "What do you mean?" Annie asked innocently.

"Well, let's just say," he leaned forward
conspiratorially, "that you, sweet Annie," he planted a light kiss on
her cheek, "are way too good for him."

She frowned and drew away just as Zack handed the
beers around. He met her frown with a dark glare.

"What are you two talking about?" he said in
that gravelly voice that Annie knew meant his mood had swung to dangerous.

"Annie here said she wanted to run away with me,
but I told her she should take pity on you and stay." He turned back to
her, his grin wide. "He's not all that bad, Sweetheart. You just have to
accept him for what he is—a womanizing commitment-phobe."

Zack's frown deepened and Annie's grin faltered. His
friend knew him all too well.

She sighed theatrically, trying to ignore the lump of
ice in her gut. "I have." She touched the back of her hand to her
brow. "I've learned to live with it." Then she winked at Mike. "Now
I make the most of it."

Mike's Adam's Apple jerked furiously like a buoy
caught in the middle of the Pacific in a hundred-year storm. "Yeah? How?"

She winked again, not really knowing what to say or do
next. How far could she take this flirting thing anyway before it crossed the
line and became a sexual overture? Fortunately she didn't have to worry about
that because Zack grabbed Mike's collar and shoved him off his stool. "I
think you need to go to the bathroom," he growled.

"No I don't." Mike yelped and smiled weakly
at Annie. "Maybe I had a few too many beers. Excuse me."

She smiled back, but it didn't last long. It was
unfair. Zack didn't want her for himself but he didn't want anyone else to have
her either.

***

Zack leaned against the porcelain sink and glared at
his old friend. "What are you doing?"

"What?" Mike shrugged, palms up. "I
thought you weren't interested in her."

Zack said nothing. Mike was partly right but that
didn't matter—he didn't want him anywhere near Annie.

"Okay," Mike said, "I'll go. But, mate,
if she's the one, then go for it."

"She's not. We're just...friends."

Mike snorted. "Well, I have to admit, she's not
your usual type. That's why I thought there was something between you two. I
thought maybe you were ready to settle down."

"No way. Never." Zack looked down at the
grimy floor, avoiding his friend's knowing stare.

"Then let that girl go." He slapped Zack on
the shoulder. "You're not being fair on her. She's a great girl—"

"I know that."

Mike shook his head. "Yeah, I can see you're
really not interested in her." He opened the men's room door. "Maybe
I should warn her what a—"

Zack slammed the door shut before Mike could leave. He
placed one hand against the door above the Aussie's head and leaned close. "Don't
say a word to her. In fact, maybe you should just leave."

Mike and Zack squared off, then Mike backed down with
a casual shrug. "Since you're a good mate, I will. And I won't hold this
conversation against you since you're in love and too stupid to realize
it."

He left. Zack followed with a shake of his head. Love!
Mike should know better. He should know that Zack didn't believe in love, not
the ever lasting kind. But watching Annie, perched on her stool, beer in hand,
he believed in desire.

And he desired to have Annie, very, very much.

***

Annie watched as both men resumed their seats. Mike
gulped down the remainder of his beer then stood again. "I'm off."

"Already?"

"Yep, things to do, agents to suck up to, that
sort of thing."

She smiled and waited for the kiss on the cheek that
was
de rigeur
in LA. It never came. With a wave and solemn slap on
Zack's shoulder, he left.

She tapped her fingers against the bar and glared at
Zack. Eventually he glanced her way. "What?" he said.

"Since when do straight men go to the bathroom
together?"

He shrugged. "I just wanted a quiet word with
him."

"About?"

"Guy stuff."

She snorted. "You told him to stop flirting with
me, didn't you?"

He shrugged again. "Mike's a great guy but he
doesn't know when to let up."

"So what did he say in his defense?"

"That you encouraged him." Zack toyed with
the glass cradled between his big hands and stared down at the liquid sloshing
against the sides. "Annie," he said without looking up, "why did
you flirt with him?"

"Practice?"

He sighed then shook his head. "Don't get me
wrong, Mike's a great guy, but he's not your type."

She bristled. This coming from Zack DiMarco, the man
who didn't want to have anything other than sex with her because
she
wasn't
his
type. What did he know? On the other hand, maybe he was in
the perfect position to know.

"And what
is
my type?"

He hesitated. "Not him."

She rolled her eyes so far into the back of her head
she nearly fell off the stool. She needed time to think. And since she was
bursting to go the bathroom, she placed her glass on the bar and hopped off the
stool.

She sat for a long time on the toilet with her head in
her hands and finally came to a conclusion—she'd ask Zack to take her
home. She'd got arrested and practiced her flirting—she'd accomplished
enough for the day.

And she didn't want to be around Zack anymore. It was
becoming way too painful.

He'd finished his beer by the time she came out of the
bathroom, and unashamedly watched her approach through lowered lashes. The firm
set of his mouth and penetrating gaze told her something wasn't right. When she
got within reach, he grasped her wrist and tugged her gently to him. He touched
her cheek with his fingers and kissed her softly but with a hot intensity that
turned her stomach to mush.