The Tycoon's Desire: Under the Tycoon's Protection / Tycoon Meets Texan! / The Greek Tycoon's Virgin Mistress

“It wasn’t a far-fetched conclusion to jump to,” she asserted again. “Anyway, are you also going to deny suggesting to Quentin that I quit the DA’s Office because the job may have become too dangerous for me?”

“I didn’t suggest it to him. He brought it up.” He gave her a considering look, then added, “But I won’t say I disagree.”

Her temper flared. Fortunately, the song they were dancing to faded away and the band decided to take a break.

She pulled out of Connor’s hold. “Great, then the sooner we find out who’s been making the threats, the sooner my job will stop being so dangerous and the sooner you can get the heck out of my house. Frankly, it won’t be a moment too soon for my taste. On either count.”

She turned on her heel, not giving him a chance to respond, though she noted that his face had tightened with anger.

Of all the nerve. She’d been a lovesick fool to think something unique and lasting had been developing between them. Instead of giving her his respect, it was clear that to him, she’d always be a spoiled little rich girl who needed protection. His protection.

Chapter Nine

It was Saturday, the day of the annual Memorial Day Weekend barbecue at Allison’s parents’ house.

Usually Connor looked forward to this Whittaker family tradition. Usually, but not this year.

Last year, according to what had since become Whittaker family lore, the barbecue had marked the kickoff of Quentin and Elizabeth’s whirlwind relationship. Allison had made her famous suggestion that her brother act as her best friend’s sperm donor. Now, one year later, Connor’s old college buddy was happily married to Liz and the father of newborn Nicholas.

Connor took a swig of his beer and chanced a glance across the lawn at the cause of his dour mood. Allison was cuddling baby Nicholas in her arms, making cooing noises. The baby must have done something unexpectedly funny because she looked up, laughing, and their eyes met.

She looked away quickly, but not before a yearning so strong it hurt slammed into him. It wasn’t a pure physical need for her, he realized. It was deeper, more powerful. A vision of her cradling their own baby flashed across his mind.

Then he pulled himself up short. She was tying him up in knots and it had to stop. Until they found out who was threatening her, he reminded himself, sorting out his relationship with Allison was on hold.

With any luck, though, the holding pattern wouldn’t have to continue much longer. He felt for his cell phone again. No call yet, but there was time. Guests were still arriving at the Whittaker’s house.

In the meantime, he thought self-deprecatingly, he could brood at leisure. The Cortland Ball had brought home for him that he and Allison were from different worlds. And, as furious as he still was about her tossing that in his face in the middle of an argument, he’d since acknowledged to himself that there was some validity to her point.

“Hey, Rafferty.”

He turned and caught a volleyball just before it hit him in the stomach.

Noah Whittaker sauntered up, a grin on his face.

“Still greeting your guests with a sucker punch to the stomach?” Connor asked dryly.

“No, just you,” Noah replied, then gave him another easy grin. “It’s one of the rituals reserved for brothers, honorary or otherwise.”

Since his college days, Connor acknowledged, he’d had an easy camaraderie with Noah, who had the reputation of being the most fun-loving of the Whittaker brothers.

“Stop doing your brooding James Dean impersonation and get your rear end moving,” Noah continued. “There’s a volleyball game starting up and we’re beating Quentin and Matt’s team again this year so I can claim bragging rights to a winning streak.”

Connor tossed the volleyball back at him and asked wryly, “You mean so you can make it two years in a row?”

“Hey, you gotta start somewhere.”

“Fine, I’m game.” As he and Noah made their way to the back of the house, he figured volleyball was preferable to standing around ruminating over Allison.

Noah slanted him a look. “Allison’s on our team. Is that cool with you?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Just because he alternated between wanting to shake some sense into her and a desperate need to make passionate love to her didn’t mean he couldn’t play nice if the situation called for it.

“Don’t know.” Noah shrugged. “Maybe because you two singe everyone around you with the sparks you throw off when you’re near each other. Heck, someone who didn’t know you might think you two were crazy about each other.”

Connor almost stopped in his tracks.

Noah’s comment was startling, Connor realized, because it was true. He was crazy about Allison. Crazy in love with her. Not just want, not just desire. Love.

It was the right name for what he’d been feeling all along, he finally realized. And, if it was the last thing he did, he’d get her to admit she felt the same way about him. Then they could talk about their differences.

He couldn’t change who he was and where he’d come from, but he loved her deeply and irrevocably. And if that still wasn’t enough for her, well—his heart clenched—she could just try to find a guy who’d care for her more than he did.

Noah waved a hand in front of his eyes. “Hey, Rafferty, you still on Earth with the rest of us mortals?”

Connor knew Noah was expecting a flip response, so he said, “If it hasn’t been apparent, your sister has been barely acknowledging my existence lately.”

“You do know how to push her buttons, I’ll give you that.”

“Likewise, she’s not so bad at pushing buttons herself.”

Noah threw him an amused look. “Why don’t you help take her off our hands?” he joked. “You know my parents think you’re great. And, you’d be doing us a favor if you two got hitched.”

Connor looked at Noah quizzically. He could swear there was a note of underlying seriousness to Noah’s kidding but Noah’s face revealed nothing other than his typical expression of amusement at the world. “If you value your health, you won’t let Allison hear about that scheme.”

As much as the Whittakers thought of him as family, Connor doubted any of them really regarded him as an ideal mate for the family’s precious darling. No amount of polish would ever get rid of some of his rough edges.

Noah cast him a look of mock offense. “Me? Plotting to marry off Allison?”

Connor tossed him a skeptical look as they reached the volleyball net set up on a corner of the lawn in the Whittaker’s backyard.

Noah sighed heavily as if being forced to confess. “Okay, yeah. Guilty.” He shrugged, looking far from repentant. “Ever since Allison got ol’ Quent hitched to Liz last year, I’ve suspected that she’s set her sights on me and Matt. And, you know what they say, the best defense is a good offense.”

“In other words,” Connor supplied, playing along, “get her hitched to me before she gets you hitched?”

“Exactly.” Noah added with a pretense of ruefulness, “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

Connor looked over to see Allison joining the crowd near the net. “Yeah,” he agreed, “but I’m not sure I’m good enough for our little princess.”

Noah scoffed, dropping his teasing demeanor. “You’re kidding, right? The folks adore you. They’ve never said it, but I think they’d be pleased if you and Allison ever wound up together. And, I’ve got to tell you, it would be a relief for me, Matt and Quentin.” He gave a mock shudder. “Have you seen some of the guys Allison has brought home?”

Unfortunately, he had…and he agreed with Noah. He nodded over at Allison and said, “The princess might have some objections though.”

Noah followed his gaze. “Yeah, I know Allison can get into her nose-in-the-air routine with you. But, I always thought that was just a defensive mechanism. You know, a way to show you that you don’t get to her when you obviously do.”

She showed him all right. Every opportunity she got. Aloud, he said, testing, “Just supposing I was willing to help you implement this little plot of yours—purely in the interest of helping you escape a possible marriage trap, of course—”

“Of course,” Noah agreed readily.