Rescuing Christine (Harlequin Temptation) Read online

  Alec removed his shoes at the door and strolled down the hall to the bathroom. Christine rested her back against the kitchen counter, feeling a little light-headed from all the excitement. It was too bad she didn’t have a photograph of Alec cowering in the mud at her feet It would definitely improve her scrapbook

  She giggled at the thought, then almost immediately sobered. She might have derived a small amount of satisfaction from seeing Alec down in the mud, but he could very well even the score—and then some—in his column. There wasn’t much she could say in her own defense, either. She could scarcely tell Alec O’Brian that she’d attacked him because her left thumb had twitched.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve got a beer in that fridge?” Alec asked.

  Christine glanced across the room. He was lounging in the kitchen doorway, one wide shoulder braced against the doorjamb. He’d removed his blazer, along with the grime on his face, but he still looked something like a well-built, slightly amused pirate. The clothes that had appeared shabby earlier made him look carelessly masculine.

  Her gaze traveled down his body. According to the rumors she’d heard, Alec spent more time carousing than he did reporting. If that were true, the effects of the carousing didn’t show on him. His stomach was flat, his tanned arms firm and muscled, and the pant-leg stretched over one thigh indicated that it wasn’t flabby, either.

  Christine followed the line of his thigh a little higher, realized what portion of his anatomy she was staring at and jerked her gaze back to his face. “I’m afraid not I don’t drink. Listen, I—”

  “You’re more the tofu-and-goat’s-milk type, I suppose.” He straightened, muscle by muscle, in a movement that was just as distracting as the rest of his appearance. “What about your roommate? Is he into goat’s milk as well?”

  “Roommate?” Christine echoed. “I don’t—”

  “Surely you’re not here all alone?” Alec took a look down the hall, as if expecting to see another person materialize. “Isn’t there some guy hot for your bod hanging around?”

  Christine shook her head. There hadn’t been a man in her life for some time. Normally that didn’t bother her, but now that he mentioned it, she wouldn’t mind having some strong, macho guy materialize in the hall.

  “Why not?” Alec put his head to one side and examined her up and down. “You’re attractive enough—in a respectable way, of course. You even look good in those shorts you’ve got on. They’re too long and too loose, but they do sort of suit you.”

  Christine wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not. “Oh,” she said. “Well, uh...”

  “They don’t suit most people,” Alec reflected. “I think it’s because of the knees. Most people don’t have great knees.” He ambled across the kitchen to sprawl in a white wooden chair beside the table. “That’s why women should wear short, tight shorts. It gives you something to look at other than their knees.” His gaze honed in on her legs. “Not that there’s anything wrong with yours.”

  Christine suddenly felt underdressed and a bit too warm She drew in a breath, which failed to cool her down. His movements had caused his scent to swirl around the room—a musky mixture of whiskey, smoke, sweat and maleness that evoked images of hot nights and wrinkled sheets.

  She impatiently shoved those thoughts away and watched him stretch his legs out in front of him. Obviously, letting him in had been very poor strategy. Now that he was here, it wasn’t going to be easy to get him out.

  Christine tried anyway. “Listen, I really don’t want—”

  “To be interviewed?” Alec chose an apple from the bowl on the table. “I figured as much, since it was so hard to find you.” He sank his teeth into the apple. “Why is that, by the way? How come you’re hiding out here all by yourself?”

  Christine watched the juice spurt out of the apple and her own mouth watered. “I’m not exactly hiding,” she lied “I’m just, uh, taking a vacation.”

  “At a ski resort?” Alec crunched the apple between his teeth. “Isn’t August a bad time to take up skiing?”

  “I don’t ski,” Christine murmured, mesmerized by the way his tanned fingers curled around the fruit. “I did when I was younger, but...” She realized what she was saying and gave her head an impatient shake. “I’m not here to ski. I’m just, um, taking a few days off.”

  Alec studied her face. “You do look as if you could use a vacation,” he agreed. “What’s the problem, Chrissy? The strain of hocking bean sprouts getting on your nerves?”

  Christine’s spine stiffened. “I do not hock bean sprouts. And there is nothing wrong with my nerves!”

  “There isn’t?” He opened his eyes very wide. “I thought that was the reason you’ve been acting so bizarre lately.”

  “I haven’t been acting bizarre,” Christine insisted. “I—”

  “Yeah, you have. A couple of weeks ago you were telling the world that someone tried to turn you into roadkill in a parking lot.”

  “They did. I—”

  “You’re sure about that?” He grinned, and the dimple in his left cheek flashed. “According to witnesses, the car was just swerving through the parking lot Yet you claimed it was aiming at you.”

  Christine squirmed. At the time, she had thought the dark sedan was aiming for her. “I, uh...”

  “Then there was the ‘man in my condo’ thing. You ran into the street, screaming at the top of your lungs that a man was in your place. But when they checked, no one was there, and there was no sign of a forced entry.”

  “I saw someone there.” She had seen someone—at least, she thought she had.

  “And finally we’ve got that charity thing the other day.” He aimed the half-eaten apple at her in accusatory fashion. “Some no-brain fired a gun and you went ballistic.”

  Christine flicked back her hair. “I did not go ballstic. I simply got out of the way.”

  His eyes brimmed with amusement. “You did more than get out of the way. You screamed and dropped to the ground like a stone.”

  Christine was positive her face was bright red. “It was a normal reaction!” she retorted. “What would you do if someone fired a gun in your presence? Stand very still to make sure he didn’t miss?”

  “I don’t know, since it’s never happened.” Alec folded his hand into a fist and scrubbed it down the side of his face while he thought about it “I imagine I’d react in such a brave, macho fashion that I’d completely ignore the risk to myself, easily disarm the man and overpower him with a strong uppercut.” He grinned. “Of course, I’d have to be really drunk to even consider trying it.”

  “I’m sure that’s not a problem for you,” Christine muttered.

  He chuckled. “I admit I’ve had a little practice. However, I’m willing to bet you haven’t Maybe it’s s something you should try. It might help you relax. Get you over this paranoia thing.”

  Christine narrowed her eyes until he was no more than a blurry figure. “I do not have any sort of a thing!”

  “That’s how it looks.” He finished the apple, seeds and all, then wiped his hands on his thighs. “Didn’t you tell the police that bullet was meant for you?”

  “No! I asked the police if there was any chance that maniac was aiming at me.” She shuddered slightly as she recalled the scene. The police had been about as understanding as Alec. “It’s a perfectly logical question. When someone shoots a gun in your presence, you want to know if he was shooting at you.”

  “No one else asked that. Besides, you weren’t the only VIP in the vicinity. There were a ton of celebrities around.”

  The police had mentioned that as well. Apparently, they considered the mayor and a senator better candidates for assassination than the spokesperson of a health-food company. Normally Christine would have agreed with them, but in this case...

  Alec folded his arms on the table. “Why would you even suggest that the bullet had your name on it?”

  Because my left thumb twitched! Christine pressed her lips together
to keep from shouting that out. Alec looked amused enough as it was. If she told him that, he’d probably burst into gales of laughter. Then he’d inform the entire world that she was a lunatic. That would do nothing for either her career or her reputation.

  “Well?” he urged. “Is there someone out there with a deep, dark motive for getting rid of you?”

  Christine had spent a lot of time wondering about that herself. “I don’t think...”

  “Neither do I,” Alec agreed. “Unless a group of dedicated chocoholics decided they’d had enough of those health-food commercials.”

  Christine didn’t say anything. He was right. No one would hurt her because of her work with HoleSum Foods.

  “And I doubt there’s a dastardly villain in your past,” Alec continued. “You were hardly worth taking out when you were playing professionally.”

  Christine bristled at that “I won—”

  “You didn’t win anything the last couple of years you played. It seems to me you had a hard enough time just making the cut.”

  Oh, shut up, Christine thought resentfully. She folded her hands in front of her and studied them. She was not going to throw the entire contents of the fruit bowl in his face. She was not

  She gritted her teeth, ignored the ache in her jaw and produced a cool smile. “Isn’t there some celebrity trout fishing you should be observing right now? I’m sure it would be more interesting—”

  “I find paranoia very interesting.”

  “I am not paranoid!”

  “What are you then?” Alec prodded. “Three times you’ve claimed someone was trying to get you. You can’t think of a reason why someone would want you to leave the planet But you’re still hiding out up here, attacking whoever shows up. Sounds like someone with unreasonable fears to me.” He paused. “Or is this just an attempt to get your name in the paper again—along with a little publicity for that nutritionally correct company you work for?”

  Did he really thing HoleSum Foods would benefit from having its spokesperson acting like a nervous wreck? “Don’t be ridiculous!”

  “Or maybe it’s an excuse for that horrible game you played the other day?” Alec offered. “It’s a good thing it was just for charity. If that’s how you’d played on the tour, you would have starved to death.”

  My thumb didn’t twitch when I was on the tour! Christine mentally shouted. She bit on her lip and swallowed. “I was a little unnerved by that shooting, I suppose, and—”

  “A little unnerved?” Alec echoed incredulously. “Now there’s an original statement.” His lips curled upward, his eyes sparkled merrily and everything about him suggested laughter. “Can I quote you on that?”

  Someday Christine would probably look back on this and laugh, as well. However, today wasn’t the day. “You can’t quote me on anything!” She bounced to her feet, anxious to get him out of the house before she really did start throwing things. “It’s time for you to leave, Mr. O’Brian.”

  Alec’s smile widened. “Don’t get mad now, Chrissy. I—”

  “I am not mad!” Christine clenched her teeth. “I am simply asking you to leave.”

  His smile remained, his good humor apparently undaunted by her anger. “I don’t have much of a story. What do you want me to say? That you’re paranoid? Or that you’re up here trying to get over being paranoid?”

  “I don’t want you to say anything except goodbye!”

  “I can’t promise that.” He rose to his feet and picked up his jacket. “You’ve still got a few fans out there, Chrissy. They want to know what’s going on with you.”

  “I am taking a vacation! That’s all that is going on with me.”

  “You can’t enjoy a vacation all by yourself.” He shoved his feet into his shoes. “Maybe you should have a little company—to take your mind off your problems.”

  Christine opened and closed her mouth, but no sound came out

  “I’d be willing to volunteer my services,” Alec offered. He rested his back against the wall and gave her a head-to-toe assessment that left no doubt about what he was suggesting. “I can guarantee you won’t have opportunity to be paranoid with me around.”

  That was probably true, Christine decided. She’d probably murder him long before paranoia set in. “I don’t need any company, Mr. O’Brian—certainly not yours!” She marched to the front door and yanked it open. “Goodbye!”

  Alec chuckled and followed. He stopped right in front of her, standing so close they were almost touching. “Bye, Chrissy. Take care of yourself.” He patted her cheek. “Oh...one more thing.”

  She slapped his hand away. “What?”

  “You do have great knees.” He grinned cheerfully and wandered out, leaving Christine glaring furiously at his back.

  2

  “A MORE SERIOUS APPROACH?” Alec echoed.

  He took a long sip of coffee from the mug in his hand and eyed his boss over the rim Harper Brandt looked more like a Mafia godfather than the managing editor of a daily newspaper. He had the bulky build, the blue pin-striped suits and the pearl gray eyes.

  He was also highly dedicated to his job. Alec didn’t mind that He just wished Harper would save his “serious journalism” lectures for the hard-news boys and leave the sports department alone. “We have this conversation every two weeks, Harp, and I still don’t know what it’s about. I write a sports column. Sports are games, and games are supposed to be fun. They are not supposed to be reported with a ‘serious approach.’”

  Harper settled his bulk more comfortably into his chair and spoke in a gravelly half whisper that was somehow audible in spite of the clatter and commotion of the city newsroom on the other side of the dosed door. “They’re also not supposed to be treated like idle gossip.”

  “Gossip?”

  “That’s what you’re writing now!” Harper accused. “Even you have to admit you don’t put a lot of effort into producing that column. You attend some sporting event, have a few drinks with the players and fans afterward, then dump whatever comes into your brain into your word processor. You expend more effort having a good time than you do working for me.”

  Alec shrugged. That was a fairly accurate description of how he produced his column. Still, he didn’t see what that had to do with anything. “The reading public doesn’t seem to be objecting.”

  “I’m objecting. It’s not good journalism. I’d like to see something with a little more depth than locker-room gossip, your opinion of the quarterback’s performance and a critique of the cheerleaders’ outfits!”

  “I didn’t critique them! I merely suggested they should show a little more leg.” Harper’s expression darkened further, and Alec sighed. “Come on, Harp, I write about other things. Just yesterday I did that piece on Chrissy McKinley.”

  “That McKinley piece is a good example of what I’m talking about You went to all the trouble of tracking her down.” He eyed Alec suspiciously. “You did track her down, didn’t you? Or did you merely stumble across her in a bar?”

  “Not quite. I had to do a little digging.”

  “Probably very little,” Harper guessed accurately. “However, even a little effort from you is something of an accomplishment, I suppose.” His gaze sharpened. “But you didn’t dig deep enough. You could have done something with a little more depth.”

  “Depth?” Alec gave his head a slight shake in a vain attempt to make sense out of Harper’s words. “You want me to write something deep about health food?”

  Harper’s face reddened. “I wasn’t referring to health food. I was speaking of the McKinley woman. She is a public figure. There could be something to these things she claimed happened to her.”

  Alec rolled his eyes. “You don’t believe that any more than I do! Chrissy is a little stressed out, that’s all. And you know why she’s like that? It’s because she takes a ‘serious approach.’ Next thing you know, she’ll be wearing a pin-striped suit and telling other people to sober up, too.”

  Harper’s lips
tightened. “Let’s terminate this discussion before my stress level gives me a heart attack.” He gestured toward the door. “And I want to see some serious material in your column in the near future.”

  “I’ll give it serious consideration,” Alec advised. He grinned at the string of foul language that followed this announcement and ambled out the door.

  His smile faded as he settled into his own cubicle. He might not agree with Harper’s “serious approach” stuff, but the man was right in one respect. Alec didn’t put a lot of effort into producing his column.

  He picked up a pencil and absently twirled it between his fingers. It hadn’t always been this easy. When he’d first started his journalism career, he had given it all he had. Over the years, he’d drifted into his current mode of operation.

  Harper had no reason to complain, though. Alec’s column was a popular feature of the sports section. And although Alec felt guilty every so often about his lack of dedication, he knew there was no reason to feel that way. The reading public liked his work just as much as they had when he had toiled at it. There was no point in going to a lot of trouble to produce pretty much the same reaction.

  As for this Chrissy McKinley stuff, Harper was really out to lunch about that. Alec had always suspected Chrissy had a problem with nerves, and this just proved him right. She was like a lot of other professional athletes. They threw themselves into what they did so completely that they forgot to enjoy themselves. They were playing a game that was supposed to be fun! If they’d lighten up, they’d probably play a lot better.

  That was Chrissy’s problem. She was obviously on edge, which came from taking things so seriously. It was too bad she was like that. A woman with knees like hers—

  Alec tossed the pencil onto his desk, exasperated with himself for the thought. Chrissy was a pleasant-looking woman, but there wasn’t anything outstanding about her. She had ordinary features, gray eyes and a dear, clean complexion. Her figure was nothing to write home about, either. However, those knees of hers had crossed his mind more than once since he’d left her place yesterday afternoon. Along with the knees came a mental image of how she might look when she was as bare as they’d been.