Wildest Hearts

Rain a member of the family. Given him an interest in the business.”

    “Well, if I ever had reason to get truly nervous about Oliver's intentions,” Annie confided, “I could divorce him. I have a prenuptial agreement that would effectively end his control over the company.”

    Barry's eyes never left her face. He slowly set his cup down on the table. “I hadn't thought of that.”

    Annie made a face. “Believe me, Oliver is well aware of it. He knows perfectly well that marrying me is not a surefire way to take over Lyncroft Unlimited.”

    “But he could use his power as a partner to maneuver Lyncroft into an untenable position.”

    “Lyncroft was already in an untenable position.” Annie was getting exasperated. “If Oliver had wanted to force a sale or merger of the firm, he would have joined the other investors and suppliers who were putting pressure on us. He didn't have to marry me.”

    “I'm not so sure about that.” Barry rubbed the back of his neck. “The man is devious. He knew you'd resist selling or merging the firm as long as possible. If you held out long enough, the company could have been ruined before he got his hands on it. And he had no way of being certain he would be the buyer. Hell, you might have found a white knight.”

    “And done a friendly merger with one of Rain's rivals?” Annie shook her head. “Not likely. And Daniel would have hated it. Look, Barry, you're going to have to trust me on this. I know what I'm doing. Besides, this will all become moot when Daniel returns.”

    Barry touched her hand lightly, his eyes troubled. “And if he doesn't return, Annie?”

    “He will,” Annie said.

    Annie swept into the penthouse's designer kitchen at five-thirty that evening. She plopped two large bags of groceries onto the black tile counter and smiled brightly at Bolt.

    “Didn't you get my note?” she asked.

    “Yes, Mrs. Rain.”

    Annie eyed him uncertainly. “It said you wouldn't have to bother with dinner tonight. I'm going to cook it.”

    “Mr. Rain instructed me to cook dinner for both of you tonight. I take my orders from him.” Bolt peeled a potato with machine-like precision. He looked awesomely efficient dressed in a spotless white apron over his white shirt and tie.

    Annie refused to allow herself to be intimidated by the skillful manner in which Bolt wielded the paring knife. The man was good, she admitted it. Apparently he was good at everything. But she intended to cook dinner. She had been looking forward to it all day.

    “I understand, Bolt,” she said patiently, “but I'm telling you that I'll be cooking dinner. You can go home.”

    “As I said, Mrs. Rain, I take my instructions from Mr. Rain.”

    “You don't like me very much do you?”

    Bolt picked up another potato. “My personal feelings have nothing to do with the matter. I work for Mr. Rain.”

    “Well, where is Mr. Rain?” Annie glowered at Bolt's impervious back. “I'll have him tell you that you can go home.”

    “Mr. Rain is busy in his study. He doesn't want to be disturbed.”

    Annie whirled around and started for the hall. “He won't mind me bopping in for a minute to tell him to send you home.”

    “He's with his sister,” Bolt said crushingly. “I believe it's a private matter.”

    That brought Annie to a halt as Bolt had no doubt known it would. “All right, I'll wait until they're finished. Then I'll talk to Oliver. In the meantime, don't peel any more potatoes. I'm going to make tacos.”

    “We'll be having broiled salmon, Duchess potatoes, and artichokes,” Bolt said. “It's one of Mr. Rain's favorite meals.”

    “I'll bet he likes tacos, too.”

    “Not particularly.”

    Annie gave Bolt a narrow-eyed glance. “He hasn't had my tacos.”

    She turned and stalked down the hall toward the elegant guest suite that had been assigned to her.

    Bolt was going to be a problem, she decided. She had sensed from the start that he didn't like her. She had to admit it was an odd experience. She was accustomed to being liked. But if Bolt was going to draw battle lines, then she would stand her ground. After all this was her home for the foreseeable future. She was not going to be ordered about by a robot.

    The sound of a tearful female voice rising in anger and frustration broke into Annie's thoughts. She glanced toward the closed door of Oliver's study. It had to be Valerie, she realized with a sympathetic pang. Somehow Annie could not envision the