Playin’ Cop (Heroes of Henderson ~ Prequel) (7 page)

“And yet, you’ve seen the car I drive.”

“Good point.”

Archibald Reynolds jostled his way up to them, looking like he’d been on a roll shaking hands and kissing babies all night. “Hey there, Buddy,” he said taking Duncan’s hand and shaking it. “How you doin’?” The expression suited whether he was supposed to know the person he was addressing or not. Duncan didn’t appear to be amused. Especially when Archie turned his back on Duncan, essentially blocking him from Annabelle. “Now you know, sugar, if you sit in this corner all night your momma’s party is just gonna roll over and play dead. Sweetheart, you need to come with me and be seen on the dance floor. Now don’t try and tell me no.”

Noticing Duncan’s hand landing on Archie’s shoulder, Annabelle gestured. “May I introduce my date,” she said quickly as Duncan spun Archie around. “Archie, this is Duncan James. He’s a good friend of Brooks Bennett and Vance Evans. Duncan, this is Archibald Reynolds, a family friend.”

Duncan eyed Archie as the other man’s whiskey came dangerously close to sloshing over the rim of his glass. “Brooks, you say? Well, any friend of Brooks….” He turned back to Annabelle. “Find me later on, honey, and I’ll give you a twirl.” With that, he downed the last of his bourbon, toasted the couple with his empty glass and brought it down heavily on the bar in between them. He scooped his long blond bangs out of his face before turning and dissolving into the crowd.

“Give you a twirl?” Duncan squinted. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I’m sure he meant a twirl on the dance floor.”

“Yeah. Right.” After holding her gaze, Duncan rubbed his jaw, glancing around the room. “I have to give you credit, Annabelle Devine. You sure know how to handle the awkward social situation.”

“Well, as the expression goes, ‘This ain’t my first rodeo’.”

“Ha,” Duncan let out a short laugh. “I bet. Seems about time to order up a real drink. Bourbon and Ginger?”

“That’d be perfect,” Annabelle said, realizing how utterly tempting he looked now that the polished sheen had worn off. His hair was a little tousled and the color in his cheeks had risen. He’d unbuttoned his jacket and didn’t look disheveled as much as loose. Or, was that his body spoiling for a fight? A tiny thrill rent its way through her, from front to back. Her breath hitched thinking about his annoyance at the interruptions. Dear Lord, there was something about this combination of impeccable manners and male aggression that had her softening into very malleable putty, longing to be in his hands.

Heaven help her, she was getting turned on just thinking about it.

When Harry the magical bartender delivered their drinks, Duncan handed him a tip and then lifted Annabelle’s glass to her. As she sipped, he seemed to be trying to figure out something. Finally he tilted his bottled beer, took a swig, and then pointed it at her.
 

“You’ve given me something to think about, Annabelle. Something to look at differently than I have ever before.”

“Really? What’s that?”

“Something you said about your college experience. The way you looked at it. See,” he said, glancing around the crowded room again before resting his gaze back on her. “I joined the Phi Deltas for a lot of reasons, but one of them truly was their motto: ‘Become the greatest version of yourself.’ To me, it seemed, I had already embraced that. Get the straight A’s. Leave no question about getting into law school. Throw in civility, loyalty, respect for women and elders, that kind of thing, done. But you,” he said, pointing the tip of his bottle toward her again, “you went and explored everything you could get your hands on. You…” he said thoughtfully, “you didn’t let grades get in the way of your education. There!” he congratulated himself. “That’s it.”

“I had no use for grades because I wasn’t going to law school. Or med school. Or any sort of graduate school. So, I had the luxury.”

“Indeed. And now you can, what? Speak French?”

“Mais, oui!”

“And build a car from the ground up?”

“Maybe…with the proper tools.”

He spread his arms wide. “And you’re funny and clever and not only Keeper of the Debutantes, but the sorority girls as well. And,” he said, “apparently you are a hell of a dancer because it seems everybody and their brother wants to give you a twirl.”

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes.”

“No, I mean…oh, crap.”

It was all the warning she could give before another hand landed hard on his shoulder, and another good ol’ boy called him Buddy.
 

“Hey, Bud-dy!” Tucker Davenport put a big ee sound on the end of his greeting and Annabelle wasn’t sure if that was what set Duncan off or whether it was the fact that he’d been knocked so hard his beer splashed out of the bottle. “Annabelle,” Tucker said as he circled her wrist with his hand pulling her off her chair, “you’ve played wallflower long enough and it’s time to come––”

Tucker stopped short when a large hand landed flat, hard and square in the center of his chest. He looked down at the hand, and then at the man attached to it.

“Release. My. Date.”

Annabelle had never heard three words promise more. She actually had to choke back a laugh at the expression on Tucker’s face. Tucker, who had a good fifty pounds on Duncan, looked as if a gun was being held to his head. In fact, after he released her wrist, he held both hands up and backed away.
 

Duncan said nothing more. The incident seemed to go unnoticed by anyone except the three of them. They both eyed Tucker until he finally turned and picked his way through the room and out the door. Hearing his long release of breath, Annabelle glanced up at Duncan.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Never. Been. Better,” she said slowly and honestly, looking him straight in the eye. It was the best she could do to convey that he’d just handed her one of the biggest thrills of her life.

If his smile was any indication, he understood. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Well then,” he breathed, taking her by the hand. “Let’s take these drinks and head on over to the dance floor. Maybe that will keep the goddamn vultures at bay.”

Chapter Seven

It didn’t escape Duncan’s notice that Annabelle had to bite her lips to keep from smiling too big. Well, good, he thought as he led her through the bar. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass her or himself. But he’d be damned if he was going to step aside tonight. Not for one minute was he willing to give up his time with Annabelle. He certainly hadn’t intended to go all Neanderthal on her father’s guests, but he was not about to step the fuck aside. Not now. Not ever.
 

He was rolling with a good head of steam when he saw them. Probably had every thought showing on his face too when, just across the hallway and standing at the entrance of the ballroom, Duncan spied the two biggest assholes on the face of the Earth. Son of a bitch, he thought, as Vance and Brooks burst out laughing the moment they saw him.

“You two,” Duncan pointed. “Later,” he promised.

“Why are they laughing?” Annabelle asked as they entered the ballroom. “You don’t think they set all that up, do you?”

“I’m certain of it,” Duncan said, raising his voice to be heard above the band. He continued to hold Annabelle’s hand as he turned to face her. Behind her, the room was rocking. The large ballroom was jammed with party-goers, most of whom were dancing––and, from the looks of all the discarded jackets, sweating as well. Beyond that mayhem, the band put on a show. With a brass section and backup dancers, no wonder everyone wanted to be on the dance floor. “Man, this is some party,” he said over her head.
 

“Why would they do that?”
 

Duncan looked into Annabelle’s upturned face and couldn’t help but smile. She was indignant on his behalf. Almost made it all worth it. He carefully took the glass out of her hand and held up a finger indicating she should wait there. He stashed their drinks on a side table littered with purses, cocktail napkins, half-finished drinks and even ladies’ shoes. When he came back, he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her in close to speak against her ear.

“Brooks and Vance think I don’t like to dance.”
 

Annabelle pulled back and looked up at him with a cautious expression. He tugged her back to him intending to say more. But her heat and her scent had every neuron in his brain zeroing in on the soft, pale skin just below his lips. As if in a trance, he closed his eyes and leaned in to bite the tender spot between her neck and shoulder. Abruptly, he caught himself, his body immediately pumping adrenaline at the misstep.
Jesus H. Christ. Sweet Mother Mary.
He felt his heart pounding against his ribcage. His brain had shut down and his libido had gone commando.
I am a complete goner
. He swallowed before he could remember what he’d intended to say. When words came out they were thick, and full of want. “What Brooks and Vance don’t know is, I actually
do
like to dance. It just has to be with the
right partner
.”

Almost afraid to look at her, Duncan unwrapped himself and started to back up, slowly pulling Annabelle onto the dance floor. When his eyes finally made their way to her face, he was richly rewarded by the soft, tender expression waiting for him. Well, dang. Apparently he did have a way with words.

Duncan acknowledged that a lot of things had to be in alignment for him to have a good time on any dance floor. Two shots of tequila and a beer didn’t hurt. A kick-ass band could get him most of the way there. But he’d told the truth––having the right partner was key. Because while his attention was on Annabelle, thoughts of looking like an idiot out here didn’t bother to intrude.

While dancing over the course of the set, one of the things Duncan found wildly entertaining was watching Annabelle and her sisters dance around each other. They had this habit of hiking their gowns clear up to the tops of their thighs––and we’re talking some sweet-looking thighs. He expected Mrs. Devine to run out and swat all those dresses down at some point, but then he saw the darnedest thing. Mrs. Devine came running all right. But they must have been playing the family theme song because all the girls gathered where he and Annabelle were dancing, and even Mrs. Devine had the hem of her dress swishing around some very shapely thighs. Huh. It wasn’t quite ten o’clock and the Keeper and her mother were flashing the crowd. Damned if Brooks wasn’t right. This New Year’s Eve ball was kickin’ ass and taking names.

And as much fun as all that was, the elation he felt when a slow song began to play could have raised the Titanic. Because there was nothing he wanted to do more than get his hands on the ball of fire in front of him.

However, he was not going to swing her into his arms like an eager teen. No. He was of a mind to savor this coming together. Savor the first time he’d take this fast-drivin’, law-breakin’, debutante-makin’, quick-witted beauty into his arms. So he maneuvered slowly, with great intent and purpose. Stepping close and sliding one arm around her waist. Feeling the heat of her body, noticing her labored breathing. He bent one knee to fit between the two of hers before wrapping his other arm around her back, slowly pressing the solidness of his chest against the softness of hers. Her head tilted up. Her lips waiting just below his own. Like the start of a whirlpool, the blood in his head began to circle, threatening to take him under.
 

His eyes darted away from her face and around the room. “What?” he heard Annabelle’s soft rustle of laughter. “Who are you looking for?” she asked.

“Your father,” he confessed, then drew his attention back to her upturned face. “God, you’re beautiful,” he sighed. “But that guy scares me.” His gaze shot out around them again.

Annabelle tucked her forehead against his chest. She was laughing at him but it couldn’t be helped. He was dying to kiss her and just wasn’t willing to ruin the moment by worrying about her daddy as he did. Luckily, there was no sign of the man. But as relief started to flow, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. The WTF, you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me kind.

He cleared his throat. “Annabelle,” he said, causing her to look up in surprise. “The thing you are about to find out about me? I’ve got a temper.”

She saw them then. Brooks, Vance and three others moving in their direction.

“I swear to God, if one of them so much as hints at breaking in on this dance, it’s gonna get ugly.”
 

She looked between him and the approaching band of buffoons. “Now might be a good time for that test drive,” she said.

She took his hand and quickly led him away, bobbing and weaving through the couples slow dancing, heading straight toward the band.
God, how great is this woman?
They turned left at the stage edge, stooping low in front of all the dancers until they hit the outskirts of the crowd, then shot left again and broke into a run toward the far back door. When they hit the hallway, it was less crowded, and there was no sign of Brooks or Vance. Annabelle motioned for him to follow her to the right and then down a set of stairs. The music and party chatter kept receding as they descended, lingering over their heads as a heavy beat when they crossed back under the party and moved down a long, dimly-lit hallway that traversed the back of the clubhouse.