Guarding Raine Part 13

She couldn't count the number of times she'd heard that phrase in her childhood.

"What is clear,"

she announced, gritting her teeth, "is that you've got ego where your

brain should be. If you think I'm never going to question a suggestionyou make, you'd better think again. I'm not a trained seal.""Not well-trained, no,"he put in.She glared at him.

He stared implacably back.

That remark was the first hint of humor she'd noted in the man, and at

any other time she would have been pleasantly surprised by it.

She'd always thought that a sense of humor was the only thing that made life bearable at times.

She hadn't expected to find one in Macauley O'Neill.

He seemed too tough, too jaded.

But since his humor was veiled and sarcastic and directed at her, she

was less than amused by it.

"You're hilarious,"

she informed him.

"But I still expect to be consulted before you make any major changes

around here."

He ignored her verbal rebellion.

Already he regretted backing off on the issue of her visitors.

Her argument about allowing Greg and Andre here made sense.

But he knew she regarded the concession as a compromise, and would

expect future ones.

She'd he disappointed-that wasn't the way he worked.

He was here to do a job, and he wasn't about to mn each of his ideas by

her over afternoon tea and get her approval.

Compromises didn't necessarily keep people alive.

Not for the first time, he wished that his partner, Trey Garrison, was

handling this job.

He had infinitely more patience, and could even trot out some charm when it was called for.

No doubt he could have long talks with Raine Michaels and convince her

that every idea he had was her own.

Mac lacked the ability and the inclination to do so.

He frowned at the woman before him; looking back so defiantly, and

wondered why on earth she annoyed him so much; It shouldn't matter tohim that she questioned his every move, even though he knew d.a.m.n wellthat her accountant and probably her agent had freer rein.

And he was protecting her, for Pete's sake, not just her money or career.

Most likely it was just that Raine Michaels was turning out to be'a big pain in the b.u.t.t, at a time in his life when he had even less patience than normal for dealing with big pains.

"Well?"

she prompted, interrupting his musings.

, "Consider yourself consulted,"

he said shortly, and turned to leave the room.

Over his shoulder, he added sardonically, "But I'll sure let you know

the next time something comes up that's open for discussion."

Paine stated at his departing back, openmouthed.

That man, she fumed, was totally insufferable.

She shouldn't be surprised, since her father had recommended him so

highly.

No doubt it was considered an admirable trait by Simon Michaels.

But it was a bit wearing on her.

She walked over to a nearby chair, kicking its leg childishly.

She winced as the resulting pain reminded her that she was, as usual,

barefoot.

She sank into the chair, rubbing her toes, a wry smile pulling at her lips.

Every action had a consequence.

If she had learned anything in her life, it was that.

The thought quickly had the smile fading from her face.

The phone rang then, and she startled.

It was silenced abruptly after one ring, indicating that it had been

picked up somewhere else in the house.

She caught a look at her reflection in the mirror over the fireplace,

one hand held to her heart, eyes as wide as a deer's caught in the headlights.

Get a howl of yourself, Raine, she scolded herself mentally.

First she'd fallen apart in front of Macauley O'Neill, and now a

ringing telephone was spooking her.

She took some deep breaths and sat down in the chair, folding her legs under her.

Her eyes went to the window.

The expanse of green lawn gently rolling to the road, and the walnut

grove in the distance, painted a scene that never failed to calm her.

Today, however, its usual peace was jarred by the sight of yet another, truck rumbling up the driveway toward her house.

She turned her gaze away, troubled.

The unceasing activity surrounding her home was impossible to ignore, as were the reasons for it.

She'd tried to relegate the need for Macauley O'Neill, or someone like

him, to the furthest corner of her mind, telling herself she had energy

only to focus on her work right now.

But brutal self-honesty was a trait she tried to cultivate, and it forced her to admit that she'd been playing ostrich for the last few weeks.