Wildest Hearts

were difficult, perhaps impossible for him to comprehend. The only thing he could be certain of was that they were different from his own.

    Along with that realization came another. Oliver suddenly saw with terrifying clarity that the problem in dealing with Annie was that she was going to insist on holding him to her own standards.

    She had assumed from the beginning that his actions were based on noble, honorable goals. She saw him as a misunderstood knight in tarnished armor.

    God help him, Oliver thought, because it was becoming increasingly difficult to disappoint her.

    Oliver was not certain what to expect when he went downstairs to fetch Annie home. He definitely did not like the sense of uncertainty that filled him when he leaned on Bolt's doorbell. But he knew that at least he had his expression under control a moment later when the door opened.

    “Where is she?” he asked Bolt.

    “In the living room.” Bolt hesitated. “Reading.”

    Oliver crossed the small entryway and walked into the living room. Annie was sprawled in an armchair, a stack of printed pages on the floor beside her. She looked up. Her eyes were warm and welcoming.

    “Hey, Oliver, did you know that Bolt is writing a book?” She set aside the handful of papers and jumped to her feet. “And it's fabulous. A little violent in some places and I told Bolt he needs to stick some romance in it, but the suspense is terrific. I can't wait to finish it.”

    Oliver glanced speculatively at Bolt. “I didn't know you were a writer.”

    Bolt's gaze did not quite meet Oliver's. “Unpublished.”

    “But not for long, I'll bet,” Annie said. “I can't wait for you to write the last chapter, Bolt.”

    Oliver noticed that Bolt was turning a strange shade of red. The battle between Bolt and Annie was over, whether Bolt knew it or not. Chalk up another conquest for Annie. Bolt was going to be putty in her hands from now on.

    Oliver looked at Annie. “Are you ready to go home?”

    “Yes.” Annie glanced at Bolt. “Can I take the rest of the manuscript with me? I can't quit now.”

    Bolt looked strangely disconcerted. “All right.”

    “Thanks.” Annie smiled at Oliver as she gathered up the unfinished portion of Bolt's manuscript and tucked it under her arm. “Okay. I'm ready.”

    Oliver met Bolt's eyes and inclined his head once in a brusque acknowledgment of gratitude. Bolt nodded and said nothing as he opened the door.

    “You know something? Bolt can really write,” Annie confided as she stepped into the elevator. “I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. Looks like I'm going to have to take back all those nasty cracks I made about him being an android.” She waved the manuscript. “This is good. Terrific, in fact. I hope it sells.”

    Oliver looked down at her as the elevator doors closed. “Are you waiting for an apology?”

    Annie smiled serenely. “You came and got me. I figure that's probably as close to an apology as I'll get. Don't worry, I know you're sorry or you would never have come downstairs to fetch me home.”

    “So now you've convinced yourself that I've apologized,” Oliver mused. “Don't you ever worry that looking at the world through rose-colored glasses is a good way to trip and fall flat on your face?”

    “I'm not quite as naive as you seem to think, Oliver.”

    “That's a matter of opinion.” Oliver smiled wryly. “I, on the other hand, am not quite as inarticulate as you seem to think. I apologize for saying the things I did to you earlier. I was wrong to blame you for the fact that I didn't go through with my plans to pressure Shore into trying to stop the marriage.”

    Annie clutched Bolt's manuscript to her breast. Her smile was wistful. “Why did you change your mind?”

    “Today at lunch I came face-to-face with something I haven't wanted to deal with.”

    “What was that?”

    “After all these years, I finally understood that Paul Shore was never the real target of my revenge. He was just a stand-in.”

    “For your father?” Annie asked.

    Oliver told himself he should not have been surprised at her perception. He had better get accustomed to it. “Yes.”

    “I understand. You never had a chance to confront your father over the fact that he abandoned you and your brothers and sisters. Naturally you turned your anger on the next available target. It was easy to blame Paul Shore for a lot of what had happened because he had been