Guarding Raine Part 2

" And he'd also neglected to mention that the security expert he'dhired for her would look right at home on the front line of the L.A.Raiders. Her eyes wandered over him furtively. He had to be all of six feet, and he looked as solid as steel. His shoulders seemed to fill his shirt, to stretch it. His chest was broad, tapering to amasculinely narrow waist and hips.

Realizing her eyes were lingering on those hips, she jerked her gaze tohis face. His hair was a thick, glossy brown and shone with occasionalhighlights from the sunlight that was still streaming into the room. Itappeared as if he had forgotten to keep his last few appointments withhis barber. He wore it unfashionably long in back, but the styleseemed to suit him. This wasn't a man who could wear a preppyhaircut.

He hadn't had a close encounter with a razor in the recent past, andthe masculine stubble on his face did nothing to detract from his tough appearance. His nose had been broken at least once, and judging fromtim set of that stubborn chin, he'd had it coming. The thought put atilt to her lips, one that quickly faded when she looked into his eyes.Unconsciously she drew in a breath and took an involuntary stepforward, tingling her head for a better look. Narrowed at her now in annoyance, they were a startling shade of blue. Ice blue, the artistin her decided. The exact hue of the ice below the surface of the thick Alaskan glaciers. Mac stared at the woman before him. From behind, dad only in that oversize shirt, tight-fitting jeans andbarefoot, she'd looked every inch the urchin. But he never would have made the mistake of thinking her a boy. if she'd been facing him whenhe first saw her. The portrait in her father's office hadn't shown herin detail, but Mac recognized the delicate features, the straight,dainty nose and pouty mouth from the picture. The long hair was gone,though, and worn much shorter than his. A very light brown, it was cutshort on the sides and back, and left longer on top. If it wasn't for those huge, haunted eyes, she'd never draw a man's second glance. " So, Mr. O'Neill," she interrupted the silence. " I'm sure you'll wantto take a look around and writ~ up some suggestions.

I'll give you time to do that, and we can talk when you're finished.

" He would have told her that he'd already started that process if hehadn't observed the way her gaze flicked to her painting. Irritation filled him anew. He was accustomed to his clients at least hearing himout, but it looked as though he would need to vie for her attention,and d.a.m.ned if he was going to do that. " How much time will youneed?

" she asked, and though she was again looking at him, he could tell hermind was on her work. " A couple of hours should do it," he replied. "Great.

" There was no mistaking the satisfaction in her voice. " While you'relooking around, I'll take advantage of this light.

Oh, and if anyone should stop you, tell them to speak to me.

" He could have told her that the odds of anyone in this house payingany attention to him were singularly improbable, but she'd alreadyhalf-turned away from him, picked up her brush and dabbed it onto herpallette. He stared hard at those narrow shoulders, not certainwhether to be amused or furious at his obvious dismissal. After another moment he shook his head wryly and left the room. He'd take the time she'd mentioned, and he'd make those notes. And then he and Miss Raine Michaels were definitely going to have that talk. Oh, yeah,they'd talk. And he had a feeling that she wasn't going to like whathe had to say to her. Not one d.a.m.n bit. Mac's solitary investigationof Raine's property didn't do much to improve his mood. Although therewas evidence that some security efforts had been taken, none of thework seemed recent. There were plenty of outdoor lights installed onthe garage. But any third-rate burglar could open her door locks withlittle effort. As it was, it took Mac less than twenty seconds to pickthe dead bolt on her front door, but he credited himself with betterthan average skills in that area. The back door wouldn't be a problem,either, although one probably wouldn't bother to pick the lock. A well-placed kick would splinter it. He studied the antiquated alarmsystem.

He guessed it had been put in at the time the house was built. It had been one of the best systems available when it was installed, b.u.t.technology changed, and so did the skills of thieves. It would need to be replaced with one much more sensitive. Of course, he thoughtdoufiy, the best system in the world wasn't going to do much good ifshe continued to leave her doors wide open. He kept busy jotting downnotes for the next couple hours, wandering about the property at will.It wasn't until late afternoon that someone actually questioned his presence. And the question wasn't suspicious in nature, but ratherinterested. He'd come into the house after a thorough look at thegrounds. In the hallway he came face to face with the blond woman he'dnoticed on the phone earlier. " Well, hi, you're back.

" Her words were accompanied by the same slightly flirtatious smileshe'd thrown him in the kitchen earlier. " Did you ever find Raine?

" He gave a short nod. " I found her.

Who are you?

" The woman didn't seem put off by his curt manner. " Sarah Jennings,"she answered. " I'm a friend of Raine's.

And you are?

" Mac looked past her through the doorway into the study. The same two men he'd seen there earlier were still in conversation, this timeat normal volume. " Mac O'Neill.

I'm doing some work for Miss Michaels.

" He turned to her and noted the avid curiosity in her blue eyes. She was pretty, he noted detachedly, tall and slender and much closer to

the image he'd had of what Simon's daughter would look like. " Tellme.Are all these people here today friends of Miss Michaels?" She shrugged. " Friends, acquaintances, employees.Raine usually has a full house." " So I've noticed," he murmured. He gestured to the men in the next room.

" Who are they?

" ~ Sarah stepped around him and peeked into the room. " Oh, that's

Andre Kla.s.sen and Greg Winters, Raiue's agent and accountant.

Both of them are here a lot, and they absolutely detest each other.

They come to talk to Raine and stay to disrupt the tranquillity the

rest of us seek here?

' She turned to him and rolled her eyes.

"They rarely agree on anything."

"And all the others I've seen wandering about?"

"They're probably art students from the university. Raine volunteers

there occasionally, and she's sometimes a guest speaker for artcla.s.ses. She's kind of befriended a few of the students and lets them come here to take advantage of the peace and the view to work.Sometimes the sessions turn into impromptu lessons."

Mac studied her for a moment.

"And where do you fit in, Sarah Jennings?"

She dimpled at him.

"Anywhere I want, usually. Raine and I met in college, and we've been

friends ever since. We're both artists, so we have a lot in common.And now that I've answered your questions, answer one of mine. What kind of work are you going to be doing for Raine?"

A voice interrupted them before Mac's silence could be interpreted as rude.

"Mr. O'Neill is the man Dad called about, Sarah,"

Raine replied as she came down the stairway.

She'd gotten rid of the oversize man's shirt, and her red cottonT-shirt was tucked neatly into the same jeans she'd been wearingearlier.

Her feet were still bare.

"He has a security company and will be giving me some suggestions."

She c.o.c.ked her head at Mac, newly aware that she had to look up a long

way to meet his gaze.

"Sorry I took so long, I kind of lost track of time. I'll make dinner and we can talk while we eat, if that's okay with you."

Sarah's eyes widened comically.

"You're going to cook?"

Raine noted the flicker of unease her friend's disbelieving' tone

brought to Mac's face and shot Sarah a reproving look."I can cook. You'll stay, too, won't you?"Sarah shook her head."I've got a date, so I should be heading home to get ready. I might be back tomorrow, though."

Her departure seemed to herald some sort of ma.s.s exodus for the rest of the visitors in the house, or so it seemed to Mac.

He was seated at the kitchen table, his notebook in front of him, and

Raine was moving about the room with lithe, sure motions, setting out

ingredients for supper.

Each time Mac started to speak he was interrupted by yet another person stopping in to bid Raine goodbye.

To each she issued a dinner invitation.

The ones who seemed' about to accept quickly reconsidered after a pointed look from Mac.

In the end, it was just him and Raine in the kitchen.

Intercepting some of the looks Mac shot at her friends did nothing to

settle Raine's nerves.

She wasn't used to dining with strange men, and she'd counted on Sarah's presence at dinner to help her cope with that anxiety.

She didn't relish the thought of being alone in the house with Mac, no

matter what his occupation was.

But after ignoring him all afternoon, she owed him the civility of listening to his security suggestions.

She couldn't honestly even say she'd been immersed in her work.

Once he'd left her studio upstairs, she'd been unable to concentrate on

the painting that had seemed so important only minutes before his

arrival.

She'd found herself mixing paints for the next few hours, attempting, without much success, to duplicate the pale turquoise hue of his eyes.

That distraction from her work was uncommon enough.

Her response to this stranger, as a man, was even more rare.

He made her nervous.

That in itself wasn't unusual It had been more than a decade since

she'd been able to face being alone with a stranger without anxiety.

But, as with her fear of the darkness, she'd long ago found ways to