A MAN CALLED BLUE by EC Sheedy Read Free Book Online

evening. She hated company dinners, and now she had to face Blue. She turned.
    He was leaning in the doorway, tieless, the top two buttons on his tucked-front dress shirt undone. A trace of beard roughened his lower jaw. He looked tired, too, she thought, and no more ready for this confrontation than she was. She took a drink of scotch, hoping it would burn in some resolve. He stuffed his tie in his jacket pocket.
    "It's not a good idea to use scotch as courage," he said, crossing his arms, but not moving an inch from the doorway.
    "If I want your opinion, I'll ask for it." She took another burning swallow of scotch. "Until then keep it to yourself."
    Blue left a long moment of silence before saying, "You're a real pain in the butt, Tiger. Did you know that?"
    "And don't—"
    "—Don't overstep my position? We've been through that. I quit, remember?"
    She set her glass of scotch on the mantel and, still facing it, rubbed her temples. This wasn't going the way she'd planned. She wanted him to stay, but if she couldn't order him to, how could she get him to do it? Just ask, dummy. It's your only option.
    She swung to face him, struggling to keep her features composed, her expression closed. He cocked his head, looking at her with undisguised interest.
    "Look," she started. "I'm not good at this—" she drew in a breath "—but I'd like you to stay. It's important to me." She let the breath out and waited.
    He didn't speak.
    "Twenty-one days. That's all I need. Please," she added, working to keep her voice strong and not to plead. She picked up her glass.
    He still didn't speak. She watched him push away from the door and walk toward her. In the dim light of the library, his easy masculine gait took on an unnerving sensuality. He joined her at the fireplace, took the drink from her hand, and looked down at her. He touched her cheek, so lightly she scarcely sensed it, before putting her unfinished drink on the mantel.
    He nodded toward the glass. "It doesn't live up to its reputation for giving courage, false or otherwise."
    "Will you please not—" she stopped, weary of sharp words and sham. He was right and she knew it. "I don't really drink all that much," she finished faintly.
    "I know. You scarcely touched your wine tonight. So why now, with me? What are you afraid of?"
    She didn't answer. He reached to touch her again and she stepped aside, an inner sensor alerting her to danger ahead. Danger that for the first time in years, since Harper left, tempted and enticed her. It had been so long since she'd been held in a man's arms.
    A few steps from him, she faced him. He had one elbow on the mantel, his stance and his expression a study in casual contemplation. Tonight, during dinner, she'd noticed that same look in his eyes when he glanced her way. Each time she'd looked away, feeling light-headed and gauzy, and hating herself for it.
    "I'm not afraid of you, that's for sure," she said, with more force than feeling.
    "Good. Because I don't bite," he said, letting a slow grin soften the angles of his straight beard-darkened jawline. "Unless, of course, a lady asks me to."
    "I'm not," she said, her tone softer than she intended.
    "Yet," he added with irritating calm, then downed the last of her drink. "But I live in hope."
    "You're avoiding my question." And you're controlling this conversation, she thought. For some reason, she didn't mind.
    "Twenty-one days, huh?"
    She nodded.
    "I have to admit the job has a few perks. One of which would be smelling that perfume of yours every day. But—" He set the empty glass back on the mantel, but held it, gazing down at her.
    "Go on. I'm riveted."
    "A few years ago, I made myself a couple of promises. The first was never to waste a minute doing work I didn't like—and analyzing financial data for the purpose of corporate mergers falls squarely into that category." He grimaced.
    "And the second?"
    "To waste no time at all in the company of people I don't like."
    "And you don't like me."