Guardian Angel

“Isn’t that Harlan Barringer’s son?”

“Trace Barringer?”

“These delinquents will be dead meat when Harlan hears about this.”

Another man chuckled. “Looks like Trace took care of them well enough on his own.”

Talia just wanted to get away without being recognized. She picked herself up and retrieved her bike. Her knees were skinned. They burned with pain, and she could feel blood running down one leg.

At this rate, she figured she’d be lucky to see the lake again before her thirteenth birthday.

Just as she climbed on her bike, the one they called Trace said, “Hey, wait a minute. You on the bike. I need to thank you.”

She gulped as he walked to her. Everyone was staring at her. Acutely aware of her dark, stringy hair and wet clothing, she bit her lip and wished she could make herself disappear.

He gave her a warm smile that made her stomach feel strange, then he offered his hand. Even with his cheek beginning to swell, he was the most attractive man she’d ever seen. She would have liked to see the color of his eyes, but it was too dark.

She rubbed her scraped palm against her shorts before taking his hand. “It was nothing,” she whispered, and quickly put her hand back on the handlebar.

“Nothing?” Her heart lifted absurdly at his incredulous tone. “You saved my rear. What are you, some kind of guardian angel?”

She recovered her wits enough to laugh. The last person who’d called her an angel had been her father, right before his death six years earlier. “No angel,” she said. “I just evened the odds a little bit.” She turned and rode away from the crowd.

Chapter One

One of these days, she’d give in to the urge to rip the tinted glasses off his face and see whether his eyes were green or gold.

But not today, Talia McKenzie told herself as she crossed her nylon-clad legs and leaned back in the brown leather chair. Today the only thing she wanted from Trace Barringer was money.

She watched the new ruler of Barringer Corporation as he prowled from one end of his cherry desk to the other, speaking into the phone. A long-fingered hand raked through his blond hair. Actually, it was brown with sparks of blond shot through it. Talia absently pushed a strand of her own dark hair behind her ear and searched Trace’s face for signs of stinginess. She hoped he was a generous man.

His dark, baritone voice held just a hint of raspiness. It was the kind of voice that wouldn’t need to be raised to command authority. The kind of voice that sensitized all the nerve endings in a woman.

Talia shifted in her chair, then let her gaze follow the line of his navy tailored suit along his well-toned physique. She wondered if the suit was Italian, and smiled. Perhaps it was. But the rest of Trace Barringer was one hundred percent all-American well-bred male.

He’d definitely aged well.

Though he fairly emanated impatience, she noticed he kept it from his tone. Unwillingly, she admired his control.

He concluded his phone conversation and punched another button. “Hold my calls, Dusty.” Replacing the receiver, he turned his attention to Talia. “Would you care for coffee or a soft drink?”

“Neither, thank you.” She had no desire to make this meeting last one minute longer than necessary.

“Fine.” He sat in his chair and studied her for a moment.

His scrutiny unsettled her, and the years fell away, making Talia feel twelve again with skinned knees, stringy hair and gangly legs. She restrained the urge to smooth her collar or make sure her bra strap wasn’t showing. Instead, she twisted a tiny gold earring, thankful she’d chosen to wear two earrings that day instead of her usual six.

He opened a folder. “Ms. McKenzie, according to our records, Barringer Corporation has donated a generous sum of money to the Lung Foundation Drive for the past three years.”

“Yes, you have. And it’s been greatly appreciated by the Foundation. In the past, I’ve always dealt with your father. I usually mailed him a letter, then he sent us a check.” She’d always wondered if the senior Barringer’s donations had been motivated by guilt. “I hope there’s no problem with your company giving a donation this year.”

Trace shook his head. “No. The company plans to make a donation. But we’d also like to be more involved in the planning of Lung Awareness Month. That’s the reason I asked you here today. I’d like to see the drive expanded to the textile mill.” He paused and smiled, revealing a slash of strong white teeth.

A lethal weapon, that smile, Talia thought. She wondered how many women had fallen casualty to it.

“In other words,” he continued, “we want to be represented on the Planning Committee.”

Over my dead body. It was one thing to spend fifteen minutes politely requesting a donation from a Barringer. But Talia’s mind couldn’t conceive of deliberately placing herself in the position of dealing with him or any other Barringer for the three months the fund drive required. “That’s really not necessary, Mr. Barringer. At this point, our plans are well under way.”

“Please call me Trace. And you’re…?”

Ms. McKenzie, she thought peevishly. “Talia,” she said with reluctance, and bit her lip. This meeting wasn’t going as planned. She’d hoped to be out the door with a hefty check by this time.

His gaze settled on her mouth. “Talia.” He tried it out, as if he were tasting a new wine. She waited, shifting uncomfortably when his intent gaze trailed down to her crossed legs.

The intercom buzzed. He snatched up the phone. “Dusty, I told you—” He paused, and his entire demeanor changed. His eyebrows drew together while he muttered a curse. “I’ll take it. Tell Madelyn to hold on for one minute.”

Punching the hold button, he turned back to Talia. “We won’t be able to get anything settled here. Can I meet you for dinner tonight?”

Dinner! Shock ran through her until she found her voice. “Uh, no. I already have plans.”

He checked his calendar. “How about tomorrow night?”

“I don’t think so.” How did one politely say “When hell freezes over?” she wondered.

“Next Monday?”

“No.”

He cocked his head and studied her for a moment. “How about if you tell me what evening you have available?”

She lifted her shoulders. “My mind draws a complete blank.” At least that was the truth. She hadn’t been able to think straight since he’d suggested dinner. She shook her head and stood. “I’m sorry. I’ll send you our tentative plans and budget. Then you can decide what kind of donation Barringer Corporation will be able to make.”

He opened his mouth to speak as she left, but the buzzer sounded again. She’d lay odds that he was rarely thwarted. When she saw the look of frustration on his face, she almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

“Thank you, Mr. Barringer,” she murmured, and closed the door behind her.

A curious combination of relief and disappointment bubbled within her as she left the building. He hadn’t recognized her.

Ten minutes later Talia swept into her deli, On A Roll. “Thanks for watching the store for me, Gina.” She strapped a red apron over her white blouse and navy linen skirt as her very pregnant friend waddled out from behind the counter.

“How’d it go?” Gina asked. “No, don’t tell me. I want to hear everything from start to finish, and right now I’ve got to get home to meet Jason at the bus stop.”

Accustomed to the way Gina tended to carry on a conversation with herself, Talia just smiled and put some cookies in a bag. “Take these with you. And about Jason, can I borrow him one evening while you and Don go out to dinner?”

Gina narrowed her blue eyes at Talia. “I’ve got your number. You know I won’t accept money for helping you, but I’d never turn down free babysitting.” She gave Talia’s shoulder a squeeze before she opened the door. “I’ll call you tonight. And I want every juicy detail about Trace Barringer. Don tells me all the women at the plant swoon when he comes around.”