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her fist to keep from laughing. He felt his blood starting to boil, or maybe that was his libido still on a
low simmer from Kelli s teasing.
It s good to hear from you, too, Sheri said primly.
You knew damn well Kelli wasn t sweet and demure and compliant and whatever else you tried
to sell me. She s your best friend, for crying out loud.
And she s your sister s best friend, she retorted, her voice annoyingly smug and chipper. You
should have paid more attention.
Mac gritted his teeth and raked his hand through his hair. This is not what I asked for.
No? Well, I asked for a nanny and you sent a Marine.
A Marine you re now engaged to marry, may I remind you? You re welcome.
So are you, jerk. She laughed. You gave me the one thing I was damn sure I didn t want but
never knew I needed. I saw my chance to do the same for my control-freak big brother. You can thank
me later.
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
You ll figure it out, she said. I have to run. Sam s waiting in the car with the boys. I love you,
you overbearing bastard.
Before he could say anything else, she d hung up on him. Mac sat there staring at the phone a
moment, not sure whether to be pissed off at his sister, at Kelli, or himself.
He tore his gaze off the phallic cactus and saw Kelli floating toward the car in a shimmery yellow
dress that hugged her curves. His heart lodged in his throat, and he gripped the phone in his fist,
forgetting all about being pissed off.
Anger wasn t what he was feeling. That wasn t it at all.
And that scared the holy living shit out of him.
Chapter Six
Are we being watched? Kelli asked, taking a sip of wine as she tried to look inconspicuous
studying the other patrons in the restaurant.
There was the middle-aged couple feeding each other bites of scampi and laughing with their heads
bent close together. There was a table with five men in Bermuda shorts slapping each other on the
back while repeatedly using the word balls, and it took Kelli a moment to realize they were
discussing golf. She turned away and studied the gray-haired foursome enjoying a quiet dinner
together at the table near the window.
Was one of them a spy for Zapata?
Mac cleared his throat and picked up the saltshaker. He inspected the bottom of it, then set it down
and repeated the process with the pepper, the utensils, and the tiny vase of wildflowers on the table.
She saw his hands moving under the table, and for a moment, thought he was reaching for her knee.
Then she realized he was searching for something.
Bugs? she guessed, her stomach lurching a little at the thought of someone going to such lengths to
eavesdrop.
All clear, he said, returning his hands to the top of the table and clasping them together. But
even if we re not being recorded, we re almost certainly being watched.
Well, then, she said, sliding her hands toward his and moving her fingers over the tops of his
knuckles. We d probably better look like we re on intimate terms, shouldn t we?
Mac seemed to hesitate, then unclasped his hands and folded them around hers. Easier to do now
than two hours ago.
Kelli felt some heat rush to her cheeks as she remembered the way she d teased him. It had been
good payback for his earlier tease in the car. She smiled and freed one hand, taking another sip of
wine. Between the emergency surgery, the carjacking, and our time spent in the closet, I haven t had
much time to study your info packet today.
Thank you for filling out the questionnaire last night, he said. We ll both have time for review
tomorrow before the dinner. That should be enough to make sure we re covered.
Hopefully, she said, returning her hands to his and savoring the feel of being engulfed in his large
palms. Do you really think those questionnaires are enough?
He frowned, forming what looked like a permanent crease between his brows. Kelli was struck by
a sudden urge to kiss that spot.
Enough for what? he asked.
To seem like two people who know each other well enough to get married.
He shrugged and glanced toward the kitchen where their waiter had disappeared five minutes ago
with their dinner order. Kelli followed his gaze, wondering if he was assessing the possibility the
waiter was a spy. What would it be like to constantly look over your shoulder like that? His urge to
protect her was comforting, but also a little unnerving. Almost an obsession, though for the life of her
she wasn t sure what drove it.
Let s play a game, she said.
Mac raised one eyebrow. You ll have to excuse me, I forgot my chessboard.
A get-to-know-you game, she continued, ignoring the sarcasm. I m still of the opinion it s the
quirky little personality details that will make or break our story.
What sort of game did you have in mind?
How about this or that?
What or what?
It s a game, she said. I ll name two things, and you have to choose this or that. Ready?
I m not sure I understand the intent of the exercise
Mac or PC?
I beg your pardon?
For a computer. Does Mac use a Mac, or is Mac a stuffy PC guy?
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