His To Keep

HIS TO KEEP

By Stephanie Julian

His To Keep

Stephanie Julian

Published by Stephanie Julian

Copyright 2012. Stephanie Julian.

Cover by Melyssa Najouks

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Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at [email protected]

All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination.

Chapter One

“Are you telling me you two took down twenty men? All by yourselves? You must be extremely good at what you do.”

Andrea Reed’s voice, sultry and amused, carried perfectly down the first-floor hallway of DeMarco Investigations. Straight into Dominic DeMarco’s office.

As his hands tightened on the grip of his Beretta, he imagined it was the smooth skin of her neck.

“We’re the best, honey.” A thick Southern accent coated the response. “If you’re ever in trouble, we’re the men to get you out of it.”

Biting back a curse at the testosterone-induced stupidity of that statement, Nic reminded himself to consider the source. Even though he couldn’t see the men in Annie’s office, he’d known them for years. Muscle-bound from their crew-cut heads to their shiny black combat boots, the Idiot Twins were about to get a few more holes they didn’t need¾

Shit. Deep breath. Calm down.

They weren’t going to hurt her. They wouldn’t dare. He was overreacting, which was nothing new when it came to this woman.

“That is just so amazing.” Annie’s smooth-as-velvet voice rippled through the air, wrapping around his libido and heating his blood. “And where was this again?”

His knuckles creaked as his grip tightened. God damn it. She was reeling them in like a pro.

“South America, ’bout a year ago.”

Anger settled in a hot ball in his chest. That information wasn’t for public consumption and these two asses knew that.

He couldn’t completely blame them, though. Annie was a menace to any man’s sanity. The second he got her alone, he was going to throttle her.

“You must be extremely good shots.” Annie’s tone reeked with sexual interest that had to be faked. A Main Line heiress, Annie didn’t date guys like TweedleDumb and TweedleDumbass . She had to be milking them for all they were worth. Her next questioned confirmed it.

“So was Dominic with you on this little jaunt?”

No, he wasn’t going to throttle her. He was going to spank her. Put her over his knee and smack that gorgeous ass that teased him day in and day out until she begged¾

He nearly ground his back teeth into dust at the image. Why did it have to be this way with this woman? Why did she tie him in so many damn knots he couldn’t see straight?

Why couldn’t he lust after the divorced shop owner down the street? She knew the score. Annie… Annie was just plain out of his league.

“Nic, man, he was ruthless. Must’ve taken out eight or ten guys by himself. The man’s a machine.”

Okay, now they were really starting to piss him off. He shouldn’t have let this go on as long as it had. But he hadn’t known she was still here.

He’d been waiting in his third-floor apartment, pissed off at her again for … Hell, he didn’t even remember what for.

Whatever it was, she’d lashed into him with the icy precision of her tongue and told him exactly what he could do with his unwanted advice.

Her anger, on top of the phone call he’d gotten today, had forced him to find a hole to crawl into before he said or did something totally stupid.

He’d made a strategic retreat to his apartment on the third floor, figuring it’d be safe to return around seven o’clock, fifteen minutes before the Idiot Twins were set to arrive. Annie usually left the office by six. She never stayed later than six-thirty.

At seven, he’d taken the back stairs to the first floor. He’d heard their voices and cursed himself for not realizing these guys would try something stupid—like show up early. Then he’d cursed her for picking this one night to stay late.

Now she was caught with the type of man she despised—because they were exactly like him.

His first instinct had been to haul ass in there and smack some redneck heads together. Annie didn’t deserve their shit.

Instead, he’d waited. She wasn’t in any physical danger. And if he barged in, she’d be pissed off at him again for thinking she couldn’t take care of herself.

He just couldn’t win. Not with her. And he never would.

“So, what can I do for you gentlemen tonight?” she asked.

Fury lit as Bert told her exactly what he wanted her to do.

God damn it.

Annie laughed but he heard tension creeping into her tone. “Well, that certainly was blunt. And I’m so flattered you think of me that way, but I really don’t think that particular activity is in my plans for tonight. Or even anatomically possible.”

Grabbing hold of his fast-fading control, Nic took a deep breath before easing through his office door, sticking his gun in the waistband of his jeans where it would be visible and easily accessible.

He walked down the hall to Annie’s office, stopping outside where he was still undetected. Reaching for as much patience as he could muster, he put on his game face then walked into the doorway.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, guys. My office is back here. Why don’t you two come on through?”

The men turned, hands on their weapon, ready to draw.

Nic stared them down, waiting until they straightened and took their hands away from their guns.

Both guys broke out in baby-faced grins that made Nic wanted to roll his eyes and shake his head.

But his gaze got tangled with Annie’s. And for a split-second, she looked happy to see him, making every ounce of testosterone in his body flare like hot lava. Right before her emerald eyes went hard with anger.

Well, that was better than terrified.

“Dominic. There you are.” Her tone was light but her tight smile oozed disdain. She’d perfected that look in the past six weeks she’d been here. “These men were just telling me about one of their adventures. I understand you were part of their little escapade.”

Nic’s head tilted back as he forced down a smile. Oh, Annie wasn’t just pissed. She was beyond that. She wanted to throw something at him. Something heavy that would hurt.

All because he’d inadvertently stuck her with these two guys.

But, damn it, she was supposed to be gone.

Bill, the goon nearest Annie, drew himself up to his full six-foot-six height. He towered over her not inconsiderable five-eleven in those stiletto heels that made her legs look amazing.

“Hey, Nic, you up for some fun tonight? Maybe you could convince your pretty little secretary to come with us, yeah?”

Nic’s gaze never left Annie. Pretty didn’t cut it. Beautiful fit better. Her white-blond hair, normally constrained in a tight twist on the back of her head, hung around her shoulders in loose waves tonight. It framed a face that, when taken in pieces, was just a little off: her mouth too wide, her eyes too large, nose too straight.

But when you put them all together, they equaled knockout. Annie was an honest-to-God descendent of British royalty whose family had settled in America about the same time as Ben Franklin. Add to that the fact that she was nearly ten years younger than he was and Nic shouldn’t even be thinking of Annie Reed as anything other than unattainable.

Nic leaned against the doorjamb, ignoring commonsense and letting his gaze take her in. “Looks like she’s got other plans.”

She’d changed sometime in the past two hours, and he was having a hard time keeping his tongue in his mouth.

Normally, she wore suits to work—suits with too-short skirts and little lacey things under the jackets. God forbid she ever wear a real shirt.

Now, she wore a dancer’s black bodysuit, cut low over her small breasts and molded to every curve from shoulders to knees, and a filmy, pale-pink skirt that didn’t hide an inch of her mile-long legs. And the pink, half sweater she’d tied under her breasts emphasized instead of covering.

Was she still taking the ballet lessons that had been her passion in high school? He’d seen her dance once. At a recital with his sister, Janey. She’d been eighteen and he swore he’d had a hard-on until he’d been shipped out to Afghanistan a few weeks later.

“She looks pretty hot to me.” Bert leered, trying to straighten his height-restricted body to at least five-seven. And failing by an inch. “You’re up for a good time, aren’t you, honey?”

With her gaze still holding his, Annie blinked once, and Nic swore he felt her shiver, even though he stood two yards away.

She was scared but you had to know her to see the signs. To the other men, she appeared cool as ice—a thoroughbred who should be attending some charity function instead of working in a private investigators’ office in center-city Philadelphia. Instead, here she stood, nose stuck in the air, staring him down even though she was frightened. And pissed off.