Because a Husband Is Forever

Everyone loved this kind of fantasy. Dakota was counting on it.

Ian didn’t disappoint her.

Even though his response was mostly technical, it was enough to arouse the imaginations of the women in the audience. Randy was quick to chime in, augmenting points here and there, adding layers to the audience’s daydream. And it didn’t hurt any to have the two men casually mention successfully foiling a kidnapping attempt of one of their clients.

As she listened, the details had a very familiar ring. Her eyes widened.

“That was Rebecca Anderson,” Dakota suddenly realized out loud. Six months ago the story about the A-list actress and her would-be kidnapper had made all the major papers, not to mention the rounds of evening tabloid TV. “You two were responsible for saving her?” How could she have missed something like that? Dakota upbraided herself silently.

“Actually, Ian was.” Randy looked at his partner with the kind of pride that only the closest camaraderie bred.

Well, that explained why she didn’t know, Dakota thought. The man probably vanished at the first sign of a reporter, like any superhero caught slipping into his secret identity.

Dakota looked at the man on the sofa, no small amount of admiration flooding through her veins. She recalled that the kidnapper had been a burly, giant of a man who must have had seventy pounds and five inches on Ian. The lightest thing about the stalker had been his mind, which had clearly taken a holiday when it came to the subject of the glamorous Rebecca Anderson. When the police took him away, he was screaming that Rebecca was his wife, that she’d promised undying love to him and he was going to see to it that she never looked at another man ever again.

Dakota leaned into Ian and asked in a stage whisper, “Want to talk about it some more?”

If there was a man who was less uncomfortable than Ian Russell at this moment, she would gladly have paid for his passage to oblivion.

“No,” Ian replied.

“Okay then, it’s time for questions and answers,” she glibly informed her audience.

The moment the words were out of her mouth, a veritable sea of hands shot up, all waving madly to catch her attention. Dakota didn’t recall ever having seen so many hands raised as she did this afternoon. Delighted, she got started, selecting women at random.

Ten minutes later there was no indication that the questions were going to abate in the near future. Addressing questions to both men, the audience was leaning sixty-forty toward Ian.

Dakota briefly debated terminating the segment, then decided to go for it and let it continue. When you had a hit on your hands, you just kept going. Wasn’t that something her grandfather had once taught her? So, Dakota “just kept going.”

It was evident to her that the last-minute interview would go down as one of her best. There was no doubt in her mind that the segment was an unqualified hit.

As it ran over its allotted time slot, Dakota made a quick decision to ask Joe Lansing, their musical guest, to return the next day in order to showcase his new CD. A twenty-year veteran of the business, Lansing was far too much of a professional not to know that when you found yourself holding lightning in a bottle, you didn’t set it down.

Other than pointing to various waving hands, Dakota mostly kept her silence, letting Randy and, on occasion, Ian answer the questions. Her audience appeared to be in seventh heaven. Which placed her there as well.

She’d never had an hour slip by so effortlessly, so quickly.

Even as the strains of her theme song began to weave themselves through the air, the audience gave no sign of being sated.

But all good things had to end, and her program would be over in less time than it took to say it. Time to wind things up.

She rose from her seat, immediately followed by the two men.

“All right, ladies, Ian and Randy have to get back to doing what they do best.” She beamed at the two men. Randy was grinning from ear to ear while Ian looked just the slightest bit befuddled. Funny, she wouldn’t have thought anything could have accomplished that. The man seemed far too on top of things for that to have happened. “Maybe we can persuade you two to come back sometime.”

Before either could answer, the audience cheered and chimed a resounding “Yes” in response.

Dakota laughed. “I guess that settles it, then.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw the director signal her. She gave a slight inclination of her head then looked toward the main camera. “This is Dakota Delany, thanking you for tuning in. Come by tomorrow so that I can get in another word edgewise.”

She winked, knowing that the camera was fading to the credits.

“And it’s a wrap,” the director declared, crossing to them.

Dakota looked to the wings where her own security people had converged. “Looks like the bodyguards just might need bodyguards to make their way off the stage,” she quipped.

“We finally through?” Ian asked. He didn’t bother hiding the impatient edge that had slipped into his voice. When she nodded, she suddenly felt him place his arm about her waist and abruptly guide her toward the rear. She half expected him to keep on moving once they reached backstage, but then his arm slipped away. An odd sort of regret filtered through her but she dismissed it in the next moment.

Behind her she could have sworn that she heard some of the audience audibly sighing. She became aware that Ian was watching her with more than a hint of an accusation in his eyes. Obviously this hadn’t been as good an experience for him as it had been for Randy or the audience.

“I thought your assistant said the segment was only going to be twenty minutes long.”

Dakota raised one shoulder, letting it drop casually. “Ordinarily it is. On the average, we fit in three guests every hour. But you two were an unqualified hit.” She grinned at both of them, but only Randy responded. “In the four years I’ve been doing this, I’ve never seen an audience take to guests the way they did to you two.”

Randy’s eyes were all but gleaming. With a barely concealed whoop, he looked at Ian. “Business is going to be booming,” he predicted.

Dakota nodded. “I’m sure it will be. You might even have to hire extra people.”

Ian shook his head. “I really doubt if any of those women in the audience are going to need a bodyguard in the near future.”

Her eyes met his. “You never know. As you pointed out, it’s not just celebrities who have stalkers. Regular people are plagued by them, as well.”

MacKenzie sailed up to join them, her feet barely touching the floor. She’d witnessed the show inside the production booth, having full advantage of all the cameras trained on the set.

“That was wonderful,” she enthused. She grabbed hold of Dakota’s hands. “Could you just feel all that energy out there?”

“Feel it?” Dakota laughed. “A couple of times I thought it was going to swallow us up.”

As far as Dakota was concerned, this was almost the best part of the show—the aftermath when, if the show was a particularly successful one, the energy level surged almost through the roof. She felt far too charged to retreat into her dressing room to go over the next day’s show.

She glanced at Randy and saw that the man was making more than a little eye contact with her production assistant. Maybe this could use a little nurturing. She tried to remember the last time MacKenzie had mentioned going out with someone. Nothing came to mind. Her friend needed to get out.

“Listen,” she said suddenly, placing her hand on Randy’s wrist to get his attention, “do you two have to rush off just yet?”

Randy avoided looking in Ian’s direction, as if he knew a contradiction was in the offing. “Not particularly.”

“Good.” Dakota’s smile took in both men and her best friend. “Why don’t the two of you join Mac and me for a drink—or whatever?”

One dark eyebrow rose in a quizzical crescent. “Whatever?” Ian echoed.

Dakota played back her own words. Oh God, did he think she was propositioning him? Her voice as smooth as silk, she was quick to clarify the potential misunderstanding. “Early dinner, late lunch, whatever you feel like having.”

Ian shifted his weight. The backstage area was quickly filling up with people whose jobs he couldn’t begin to guess at. That created a very small space for the four of them to occupy.

Most especially, for the two of them, he thought darkly. The bubbly woman could have been his shadow, or at least an extension of him, she was standing so close. Close enough for him to feel her breathing. Close enough for the scent she was wearing to infiltrate his senses. Consequently, when she ended her offer by saying “whatever you feel like having” he found himself thinking that he felt like having her.

The thought surprised him. He took a second to get his bearings and himself under control. He was a great believer in instinct, and right now instinct told him that Dakota Delany was the type that if you gave her an inch, she found a way to turn it into a town.

There was no way he was about to get socially mixed up with someone like that. Or anyone else for that matter. He was still one of the walking wounded as far as romance was concerned. He’d learned the hard way that he wasn’t cut out for relationships. There were ways of satisfying sexual urges without getting sucked into a situation that required talking afterwards, or even interaction—both of which he preferred to avoid if at all possible. With everyone.

The best way was to beg off at the very beginning. “No, I don’t—”

He felt Randy’s hand suddenly on his shoulder. “We’d love it,” Randy declared firmly. “Wouldn’t we, Ian?”

Trapped, Ian shrugged dismissively. “Yeah, love it,” he echoed.

Dakota noticed how the look on Ian’s face was akin to thunderclouds descending over the plains. But she felt too good to allow him to dampen her mood. On a whim, she decided to bring him around, just as she had on the show.

“Well, that was certainly a resounding positive vote.” She laughed as she threaded her arm through Ian’s, beginning to forge a path for them. “C’mon, I know a great place to go. We can walk there.”

A slight din began to come from the front of the stage. It seemed that security hadn’t managed to clear away their audience just yet.

MacKenzie fell quickly in behind Dakota. “I suggest walking fast,” she told the group, “before the audience decides to make a break for it and cut us off.”

The people around them parted, but only enough to allow them to wiggle through. Acutely aware that his arm was still in Dakota’s possession, Ian glanced over his shoulder toward the stage as they made their way out.

“I had no idea women could be that, um—” He paused, searching for a word that wouldn’t ultimately be offensive, then finally settled on “pushy.”

Dakota caught her tongue between her teeth to keep from laughing. So, despite his somewhat gruff demeanor, the man could be innocent, as well. She had to admit she found it rather refreshing.

“You’d be surprised,” she said before turning back to the task of getting them out of the studio.

He was trying not to be, Ian thought, attempting not to notice the way her hips swayed as she pulled out in front of him. He was definitely trying not to be.

Heaven, Dakota’s restaurant of choice that night, was located only three blocks from the studio where her program was taped. In the last four years Heaven had become a home away from home to her. Certainly the food there was better than anything that could be found in her own kitchen.

Today, as always, Heaven was fairly humming with patrons, both regulars and first-timers. An elegantly decorated restaurant, its walls were lined with photographs of celebrities who frequented the premises. As on any other day, several could be spotted seated at the scattered tables and booths, enjoying the fare.

It was damn crowded, Ian noted. The line they’d just circumvented was clear out the door. He didn’t take Dakota for the type to cut in front of people, which meant that he was off the hook. “I guess we came at the wrong time,” he said to Dakota.

About to retreat, he found his path impeded by the effervescent woman.

“Not so fast,” she told him as she turned to the maître d’. Dakota greeted the man and subsequently was embraced in what amounted to a Russian bear hug.

Ian sighed. Looked as if he’d failed to factor in the magic of star power.

The tall, mustached man in the dark suit smiled broadly as he released Dakota. “For you? How could there not be a table for you, my friend? Always, always there will be a place for you and your friends anywhere I will be,” he swore, dramatically hitting his chest with his fist.

Dakota inclined her head with a smile. “Thank you, Dimitri.”

The aristocratic man looked around for a waiter. Spying one, he was quick to dispatch the man into the center of the dining area. Within two minutes Dakota and the others were ushered to a booth that was off to the side.

The tables around them were filled to capacity with people who clearly enjoyed themselves and their meals. It seemed rather improbable to Ian that this plum location had gone begging all this time. He looked at Dakota as the waiter distributed elegant black menus with gold lettering. “He kill the people who were sitting here?”

“You always view everything so darkly?” Dakota asked.

He shrugged absently. “Just seems surprising that with all these people in here and that line at the door, that this booth would go empty and unnoticed.”

“It doesn’t, exactly.” She paused to order a bottle of wine for the table, then looked back at Ian. “Dimitri keeps it reserved for me.”

That didn’t seem like a sound business move, unless there was something going on between her and the silver-haired man. The embrace had seemed particularly warm and friendly.

“What else does he keep reserved for you?”

“The best wine in the house,” she answered glibly, nodding at the departing waiter. She deliberately took no offense, sensing he didn’t mean it as an insult but more of a probe.

Ian’s gray eyes held hers. He had no idea what prompted him to ask, “What do you do in exchange for all this service?”

Randy leaned in, an apologetic expression on his lean face. “You’ll have to excuse my partner. He left his brain in his other skull.”

Dakota took it all in stride. “Along with his manners, I guess. Glad they lasted the length of the show.”

She should have left it there, she told herself. After all, the man had no right to infer anything. But she wanted to set the record straight.

“And to answer your question, this is Dimitri’s way of showing his gratitude. This place is his first restaurant in this country. I had him on my very first show and sent a little business his way as he was starting out. His excellent menu and fantastic culinary skill—until recently, he was the head chef, as well—did the rest. But he still chooses to be grateful, and I do like the food here.” Finished, she gave him an inquiring look. “Any other questions?”

Ian laughed shortly. He supposed he had that coming. He had no idea why he’d pushed the issue, only that an uncustomary flare of temper had surfaced when he saw the way the older man had held on to Dakota for a beat too long. There was no reason why he should have cared, even if the two were lovers.

“I guess that puts me in my place. Sorry.”

Randy almost choked on the water he’d just sipped. Regaining control, he stared at Ian. “Oh God, this is a monumental moment. Russell never apologizes.”

Ian opened the menu, hoping to return to business as usual. The selections ran down two long columns. “Because I’m usually not wrong.”

Randy grinned. “He’s also been known to walk on water on occasion.”

MacKenzie’s eyes shifted to the other man. “Now that I’d like to book for the show.”

Ian didn’t even glance up. “Sorry, only private showings.”

Dakota laughed. Her eyes fairly gleamed with delight as she looked at him. “Hey, you do have a sense of humor.”

“Sometimes,” he muttered, wishing his partner would start to use his gift of gab and bail him out of this.

As if sensing Ian’s thoughts and taking pity on him, Randy picked up the menu and looked down the long columns. “So, what’s good here?”

“I can honestly say everything,” Dakota told him. MacKenzie nodded her assent. “I’ve sampled every item at one time or another and couldn’t tell you which was his best.”

Ian glanced over the top of his menu. His eyes slowly slid down as much of her trim torso as was visible to him. Women didn’t generally admit to having a healthy appetite, so he believed her. “How do you keep the weight off?”

Dakota thought for a moment. Weight had never been a problem for her. “Regular exercise, I suppose.” Or as regular as she could get it, given her hectic schedule.

“Having the metabolism of a hummingbird doesn’t hurt, either,” MacKenzie chimed in.

Dakota laughed. “You should talk.” If she were into envying people, MacKenzie would be at the top of her list. The smaller woman could eat from morning until night and never show any of it. “She eats ice cream as if it was going out of style and never gains so much as a lousy ounce.”

Ian smiled politely at both women. He was here to have a drink and a late lunch, nothing more. He’d managed to keep a distance between himself and the people he worked for. Doing the same with Dakota Delany shouldn’t be difficult.

Shouldn’t be, a small voice in his mind echoed for reinforcement.

The small voice somehow rang false.

Ian closed his menu as the food server came their way to take their order. He glanced at the glass of wine standing by his plate. He’d never really cared for wine. “They have beer here?”

Dakota grinned. “More kinds than you could possibly imagine.”

Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all, he thought. He raised his eyes to Dakota’s.

Then again…

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.