When Annaliese’s cell rang later that evening, she knew who it was without glancing at the screen. She took a couple of breaths, deliberately letting the phone ring a few times, before answering. “Hello?”
“Meet me at the parking lot on the south end of The Strip.”
Such arrogance. She wasn’t going to make it that easy for him. “Who is this?”
Duke Evans’ husky laugh sent fingers of sensation running all over her body. Maybe she shouldn’t go. This kind of chemistry might be dangerous, especially coming off such a long period of…nothing. Especially when the man in question was so different from Matthew in every single way. It wasn’t logical or reasonable.
“Annaliese, I’m too old to play games,” Duke Evans said, though the thread of amusement remained in his voice. “I need to see you.”
Okay fine, no games on her end, either. “I’m not sure that’s wise, Mr. Evans.”
“Who said we need to be wise, Ms. Matheson?”
Arrogant, sure, but he was also charming, and smart. It was an intriguing combination. “I don’t think I’m ready. My husband died and—”
“It’s a stroll on the boardwalk, surrounded by hundreds of people who will be focused on the Christmas lights and whatever senior-citizen musical group Shellwater Key can put together.”
“Now who’s playing games?” she countered. “I don’t know that I can handle this…handle you.”
She heard the quick, indrawn breath on his end. “You really shouldn’t say things like handle me, Ms. Matheson. I might get ideas.” His voice had grown even huskier. “Listen, I’ve been surrounded by little girls for the last six months. There’s a chance I won’t know what to do with you.”
Annaliese laughed at such an outright lie. “I’ll believe that when Hell freezes over, but all right, I’ll meet you in thirty minutes.”
“Ten minutes.”
“Twenty-five.”
“Fifteen.”
Annaliese glanced in the mirror, caught a glimpse of the ecstatic grin on her face, and quickly readjusted her expression. She also noticed her wrinkled clothes and unkempt hair, a result of a full day of extreme nervousness and pressure. “I’m a wreck. I don’t know what I can accomplish in only fifteen minutes.”
“You could show up wearing a potato sack and I wouldn’t care,” he said, sounding impossibly arrogant and commanding and so sexy she almost whimpered. “And don’t you dare touch your hair. Be there in fifteen minutes.”
“I don’t think I like it when a man tells me what to do.”
“Annaliese.” He laughed again, sounding both frustrated and amused. “Just be there in fifteen minutes or I’ll come to you.”
“You don’t know where I live.”
“This is Shellwater Key, I can find out your address in about five minutes,” he said. “If you’re scared of being in public with me, just think about having me in your place.”
The thought of having him anywhere made her blood sizzle, and she did whimper this time. “You shouldn’t say things like that, either.”
“Fifteen minutes, Annaliese. That’s as long as I’m prepared to wait.”
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