“Do you know what this is?”
“No.”
“It’s a bill. One I’m late on. Do you know why?”
“Ms. McCoy…”
“Answer the question,” she yelled. “Do you know why?”
He looked more amused than afraid, which really pissed her off. “No. Why?”
“Because I’m currently helping to support my two cousins. They’re both in college and have partial scholarships, and their mom, my aunt, is a hairdresser and has her own issues to deal with. Have you seen what college-age girls eat? I don’t know how they get it all down and stay skinny, but they do. Follow me.”
She walked into the kitchen. Surprisingly Duncan came after her. She pointed at the dry-erase board. “You see that? Our family schedule. Kami is an exchange student. Well, not really. She was in high school. She’s from Guam. Now she goes to college here. She’s friends with my cousins and can’t afford her own place. So she lives here, too. And while they all help as much as they can, it isn’t much.”
She drew in a breath. “I’m feeding three college-age girls, paying about half their tuition, for most of their books and keeping a roof over their heads. I also have an aging car, a house in constant need of repair and plenty of student loans from my own education. I do all of this on a kindergarten teacher’s salary. So no. Taking out a loan on my house, the only asset I have in the world, is not an option.”
She stared at the tall, muscled man in her kitchen and prayed she’d gotten through to him.
She hadn’t.
“While this is all interesting,” he said, “it doesn’t get me my two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. If you know where your brother is, I suggest you tell him to turn himself in. It will go better for him that way than if he’s found and arrested.”
The weight of the world seemed to press down on her shoulders. “No. You can’t. I’ll make payments. A hundred dollars a month. Two hundred. I can do that, I swear.” Maybe she could get a second job. “It’s less than four weeks until Christmas. You can’t throw Tim in jail now. He needs help. He needs to get this fixed. Sending him to prison won’t change anything. It’s not like you need the money.”
The ice returned to his cool, gray eyes. “And that makes it all right to steal?”
She winced. “Of course not. It’s just, please. I’ll work with you. This is my family you’re talking about.”
“Then mortgage your house, Ms. McCoy.”
There was a finality to his tone. A promise that he meant what he said about throwing Tim in jail.
How was she supposed to decide? The house or Tim’s freedom. The problem was she didn’t trust her brother to do any better if she mortgaged the house, but how could she let him be locked away?
“It’s impossible,” she said.
“Actually, it’s very easy.”
“For you,” she snapped. “What are you? The meanest man on the planet? Give me a second here.”
He stiffened slightly. If she hadn’t been staring at him, she wouldn’t have noticed the sudden tension in his shoulders or the narrowing of his eyes.
“What did you say?” he asked, his voice low and controlled.
“I said give me a minute. Maybe there’s another choice. A compromise. I’m good at negotiating.” What she really wanted to say was she was good at negotiating with unreasonable children, but doubted Duncan would appreciate the comparison.
“Are you married, Ms. McCoy?”
“What?” She glanced around warily. “No. But my neighbors all know me and if I yell, they’ll come running.”
The amusement returned. “I’m not here to threaten you.”
“Lucky me. You’re here to threaten my brother. Practically the same thing.”
“You teach kindergarten you said. For how long?”
“This is my fifth year.” She named the school. “Why?”
“You like children?”
“Well, duh.”
“Any drug use? Alcohol problems? Other addictions?”
An unnatural love for chocolate, but that was really a girl thing. “No, but I don’t…”
“Any of your ex-boyfriends in prison?”
Now it was her turn to be pissed. “Hey, that’s my life you’re talking about.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
She reminded herself she didn’t have to. That it wasn’t his business. Still she found herself saying, “No. Of course not.”
He leaned against the chipped counter and studied her. “What if there
“Which would be what?”
“It’s four weeks until Christmas. I want to hire you for the holiday season. I’ll pay you by forgiving half of Tim’s debt, sending him to rehab and setting up a payment plan for the remainder of the money. To be paid by him when he gets out.”
Which sounded too good to be true. “What do I have that’s worth over a hundred thousand dollars?”
For the first time since entering her house, Duncan Patrick smiled. The quick movement transformed his face, making him seem boyish and handsome. It also made her very, very nervous.
She took a step back. “We’re not talking sex, are we?” she asked desperately.
“No, Ms. McCoy. I don’t want to have sex with you.”
The blush came on hot and fast. “I know that I’m not really the sex type.”
Duncan raised an eyebrow.
“I’m more the best friend,” she continued, feeling the hole getting deeper and deeper. “The girl you talk to, not the girl you sleep with. The one you take home to Mom when you want to convince her you’re dating a nice girl.”
“Exactly,” he said.
What? “You want to introduce me to your mother?”
“No. I want to introduce you to everyone else. I want you to be my date for all the social events I have going on this holiday season. You’ll show the world I’m not a complete bastard.”
“I don’t understand.” He was hiring her to be his date? “You could go out with anyone you want.”
“True, but the women I want to go out with don’t solve my problem. You do.”
“How?”
“You teach small children, look after your family. You’re a nice girl. I need nice. In return your brother doesn’t go to jail.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Annie, if you say yes, your brother gets the help he needs. If you say no, he goes to jail.”
As if she hadn’t figured that out on her own. “You don’t play fair, do you?”
“I play to win. So which will it be?”
Two
While Duncan waited for his answer, Annie grabbed a kitchen chair and pulled it over to the refrigerator. She reached the overhead cupboard and pulled out a box of high-fiber cereal. After opening it, she removed a plastic bag filled with orange and brown M &M’s.
“What are you doing?” he asked, wondering if the stress had pushed her over the edge.
“Getting my secret stash. I live with three other women. If you think chocolate would last more than fifteen seconds in this house, you’re deluding yourself.” She scooped out a handful, then put the plastic bag back in the box and slid the box onto the shelf.
“Why are they that color?”
She looked at him as if he were an idiot, then climbed down from the chair. “They’re from Halloween. I bought them November first, when they’re half off. It’s a great time to buy seasonal candy. They taste just as good. M
