Guarding Raine Part 7

to normal and Macauley O'Neill would be out of her life.

Whoever was hara.s.sing her was certain to be caught soon, and then she could finish her paintings for her show in peace.

The thought of a stranger, this man, livin in her house seemed to affect her with temporary paralysis.

His presenc~ filled her with so.

many tumultuous emotions, it was impossible to sift through them all.

But even in the midst of that turmoil, her thoughts were curiously distracted.

Her mind insist~l upon painting pictures of Macauley on the beach he'd mentioned.

Working on that all-over tan.

Two days later Raine was in the den with her accountant, and her patience was wearing thin.

"I don't know, Greg, do whatever you think is right. I trust your judgment.

Whatever you recommend is fine with me."

Mac stepped into the room in time to hear her words, and his mouth twisted.

Apparently Raine's accountant was given a much freer hand than her security expert, and he'd bet that Greg hadn't had to drag those concessions from her the way Mac had.

"You're not even listening to what I'm telling you, Raine. Just take some time and study this portfolio I'm putting together for you ."

" Why in heaven's name do we have to do this now?" Mac leaned against the doorjamb, eavesdropping unabashedly. Rainetossed a file folder on the desk frustratedly. " I hired anaccountant, Greg, so I wouldn't have to be bothered constantly withthese matters.

You know how busy I am getting ready.

for this next ~how.

Can't we discuss this when you have it completed?

" She got to her feet in barely restrained impatience and paced a few

steps away. Mac couldn't help noticing that though her hips werenarrow, her bottom had an unmistakably womanly curve. He pushed asidethe unwelcome observation and spoke deliberately. " Raine.

" Both Raine and Greg turned at the sound of his voice. Mac notedGreg's annoyance at the interruption. He'd spoken to the manyesterday, questioning him at length about his knowledge of the threats. From the amount of time Winters spent here, Mac was beginningto wonder if Raine was his only client.

She was obviously his favorite one. The man was only a few inchestaller than she was, with thinning, sandy-colored hair and earnestbrown eyes that were fixed on her. Mac thought he read more than aprofessional interest in the man's gaze. " I need to talk to you.

" " We're right in the middle of"" That's okay.

" Raine interrupted Greg's irritated statement with undisguised eagerness.

She laid a hand on the man's arm placatingly. " I really, do have totalk to Mr. O'Neill, Greg.

Just go ahead and finalize those plans.

I'll look at the file when you have things ready to be signed.

" Greg threw Mac a glance LIFE with frustration, but picked up the filefolder and placed it in his briefcase. " I might as well get back tomy office, if you're going to be busy," he said stiffly. " I'll talk to you about this later.

And I'm going to insist that you hear me out before you make any finaldecisions.

" Raine waved goodbye and, when he'd left, looked at Mac. Her uneasiness at having him in the house had ebbed a little. She rarelysaw him. Though she was an early riser, he was earlier. When she gotup in the morning he was already in the family room, which he seemed tohave taken over for his own uses. Without a word to her he'd moved in a large desk, chair and a computer, all of which must have come off oneof the trucks loaded with materials that were arriving hourly. Althoughsome of the natural edginess she'd felt at having him here as aprolonged guest was wearing off, that didn't mean he didn't bother her.

Even from a distance he'd still proven to be something of adistraction. Though she'd gotten back to her current painting, morethan once she'd found herself wandering to a window overlooking thedriveway, watching him supervise the unloading of supplies.

Nor could she keep her eyes from lingering on him now. He seemed to have a perpetual shadow of whiskers on that rock-hard jaw, and shewondered at it.

Her knowledge of men's beards was nonexistent, but it seemed to herthat at some time he would have to appear either clean-shaven or withthe start of a beard. The dark clothes he was wearing, combined withhis perpetually slightly disheveled appearance, gave him a look that'was lethally dangerous.

She didn't recognize the skitter of electricity that vibrated down herspine every time she got this close to him. It wasn't fear, but it wasan uncomfortable sensation, nonetheless. His presence was toooverpowering.

Her first instinct each time they were together was to put anadditional three feet between them. She held her ground. She'd givenup running years ago.

Giving him a wry smile of grat.i.tude, she said, i'My hero. You justsaved my sanity. Greg is a dear, sweet man, but listening to him talkmoney makes me want to run screaming into the sunset."

Closing the door behind him, Mac sauntered across the room and sankdown into an easy chair.

"He's right, you know,"

he said, "You can't sign things without reading them--that's the heightof stupidity."

Her eyebrows climbed at his insinuation.

"I always read the papers,"

she replied tartly.

"But only once. I don't share Greg's enthusiasm for debating endlesslyabout money-market accounts and tax-deferred bonds."

"Sounds like he has quite a bit of power."

He gave her a level look.

"It's a little naive to put all your trust in one individual. How do you know he won't take off with your money?"

"I thought the point of hiring experts was to let them do what they're expert at,"

she responded sweetly.

"Or so you've told me."

She walked past him and sat on the couch.

"You're too trusting,"

he said flatly.

"That's probably what's gotten you into this mess to begin with."

She wrinkled her nose at him and curled her legs gracefully beneath her.

The supple movement drew his unwilling gaze for a moment.

She was once again dressed in jeans, which hugged her tiny curves faithfully.

Her feet were, bare He tried to remember if he'd ever seen her wear

shoes, and couldn't recall that he had.

"No use trying to be diplomatic,"

she said dryly.

"It's obviously a strain for you. Did you really have something you

needed to discuss, or did you just want to insult me?"

"I wanted to warn you,"

he replied.

"I've gotten just about everything I need to get started installing the

security system we talked about. There will be workers arriving within the hour to start on the job."

He certainly didn't believe in wasting time, she mused.

Somehow, that didn't surprise her.

"You wanted to give me enough time to barricade myself in my studio?"

she asked, only half-joking.

No hint of amus.e.m.e.nt showed in his ice blue gaze.

"I want you to stick around until they arrive. If that's no bother."

He needn't have added that last phrase, as if he was concerned with politeness.

She wasn't fooled.

It had been a order, not a request.

Not for the first time she wondered where he'd acquired that tone of authority, the presence that said he was used' to issuing orders and having them carried out.

She didn't quite believe that it all stemmed from his current job, ~although that would certainly add to it.

"What do you need me for?"

His gaze narrowed.