The Harder They Fall Read online

  “Trisha, what have you done now?”

  “You mean besides crashing into your car? Or destroying two floors?”

  “Yes. Exactly like that.”

  She laughed shortly. “I can’t believe you think I’ve done something bad.”

  “Well, have you?”

  She just studied her hot-pink fingernails silently, wanting him to suffer.

  “Trisha.” He put his hands on his hips, the elegantly tailored suit he wore stretching appealingly over his shoulders and back. “Tell me the house is still standing.”

  She caught it then, the laughter in both his voice and face. The teasing tone went a long way toward soothing her ruffled feathers, but she wasn’t finished. “The good news is that the foundation of the duplex is still intact.”

  She had the immense satisfaction of seeing him lose some color, of watching that wide, chiseled jaw drop open, but she couldn’t hold back her laughter.

  “Oh, you’re funny.” He smirked at her. “Are you going to tell me why you came here before I have to attend my meeting? Or are you going to make me sweat all day, wondering?”

  So the blonde was still waiting for him. “Wouldn’t want to make her wait, now, would we?”

  He looked at her blankly, clearly puzzled, for one long moment before he rubbed his chin slowly. If she didn’t know him better, she would have sworn he was biting back a smile.

  “You think my meeting is with Sheryl,” he said finally.

  “Is that her name?” Trisha shrugged indifferently. “It could matter less to me.” She smoothed down her bright pink jacket, studied her hopelessly scuffed pumps.

  “Naturally.” But Hunter just continued to stare at her, looking suspiciously pleased with himself.

  It was then she realized he had no intention of telling her a damn thing. Fine. “I just wanted to know about your car. I want to get estimates done for you so I can pay for the damage.”

  “Ah, yes, the fender.”

  “Don’t tell me you’d forgotten,” she said.

  “Did you know that red lipstick is nearly impossible to clean off a window?”

  “Sorry.” She smiled sweetly, innocently. “But I didn’t know your phone number and you didn’t answer my knock. The estimate, Hunter?”

  “It won’t be necessary,” he said evenly, slipping his hands into his trouser pockets.

  He’d already gotten them. Well, that was quick. She hoped it didn’t cost as much as she feared. Stupid, stupid, she thought. When would she learn to slow down? Reaching into her purse, she pulled out her checkbook, trying to remember exactly how much she had, and when she’d last reconciled her accounts.

  It’d been a while. Her motto—make sure the checkbook balances only if she had money—meant that she rarely had to perform the task. “How much?” she asked, fishing for a pen in her huge, overloaded purse. “I’ll just—”

  “My insurance will cover it,” he said quietly, reaching out to put his hand over the top of her purse. “Forget it.”

  His touch made her skin leap. It also increased her pulse rate uncomfortably. “I can’t do that,” she whispered.

  “Sure you can.” Bending around her, he opened her door, which served to remind her that he was in a hurry, and that he couldn’t wait to get rid of her. “It’s nothing, really,” he said.

  “Of course it’s not. Not when you’re late for your important meeting with the bombshell.” Good Lord, where had that come from?

  “Oh, Hunter!”

  At the sound of a voice and the rapid clicking of heels, Trisha looked up to see none other than the just-alluded-to “bombshell” herself. Smiling, Sheryl waved a piece of paper and blew Hunter a kiss from a neighboring car. “Thanks so much for the tuition, Uncle Hunter! Great-Aunt Gloria and Great-Uncle Patrick said you’d come through for me because you always come through for them, and they were right. Thank them for me, too, will ya?”

  “I’ll see you next quarter.” Hunter waved back, then turned to Trisha with raised eyebrows. “You were saying?”

  Oh, dear. She’d done it again. “I was saying I still have one foot left to stick in my mouth. Give me a minute and I’ll be sure to do it right here so you can get some enjoyment out of it.”

  She had to give him credit, he didn’t laugh at her. But he wanted to, she could tell. Unable to stand there feeling humiliated a second longer, she again turned away.

  And again he stopped her. “Trisha.”

  Good Lord, the way he said her name, as if it were golden honey dripping from his mouth. It completely undid her. “No, please,” she begged softly. “Don’t say anything. I’ve really got to go. About the car—”

  “I said, forget it,” he said firmly.

  Thankful, she slipped into the driver’s seat. “For now,” she agreed, because she so desperately needed to get away from him. “But I’m going to pay for that damage.” She managed a smile. “Maybe I’ll even throw in a car wash, to get any traces of lipstick off. It’s the least I can do.”

  She shut the door, but he leaned down and tapped on the glass with a patient look on his face. With a deep breath, she rolled down the window. Casually, he rested his arms on the door and filled the window with his face, so close she could have moved a fraction of an inch and kissed him.

  Light as a butterfly, he ran a finger over her lips, then gave her one of his rare, heart-stopping smiles. “Pink today,” he said, looking down at his finger.

  “Wild fuchsia, actually.”

  “It suits you. You have an incredible mouth, Trisha. It makes me think of things I have no business thinking.”

  Good thing she was already sitting because her legs became useless.

  His gaze roamed her features, then ran slowly down over her body, making her tingle in each place his eyes settled. When that gaze hit her exposed legs, covered only in sheer stockings, it heated, making her rethink her opinion about him never giving her a second look. He’d definitely just given her one. And a third look, and that third one had made taking another breath utterly impossible.

  The sudden sexual tension had to be stopped, if only for health reasons. She’d suffocate this way. And her heart was pounding so fast, it was about to explode. “Great-Aunt Gloria and Great-Uncle Patrick—your parents?” she asked.

  “One and the same.”

  The tone of his voice said back off, so did the sudden tension in his large frame, which served to rouse her hungry curiosity about him. “You never told me if you were close.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  Obviously, he had hoped she’d drop it. “Are you?”

  “Depends on what you consider close.”

  “You’re being purposely difficult.”

  He cocked his head. “I’m very aware of that fact. My secretary says I define the word. According to her, I’m also obsessively single-minded, a bit arrogant, and more than a little annoying.”

  Trisha smiled, thinking his secretary must be a keen psychologist, if not a saint. “You’re changing the subject.”

  He sighed. “I’m trying.”

  “Do you give your parents money too?”

  He shrugged.

  “I thought you said you never let your family get the best of you.”

  “They haven’t.”

  “Looks to me as if you’re supporting the entire Adams clan,” she said.

  “I’ve got some extra money and they don’t have any. Doesn’t hurt me to help.”

  “You know something, Dr. Adams?”

  His eyes regained their sparkle at her haughty tone. “What, Ms. Malloy?”

  “I think you care a lot more than you let on. Which makes you kind and generous as well as difficult and annoying.”

  “What about arrogant?”

  “No,” she said slowly. “Not arrogant. Just basically quiet. Maybe even a little shy. People always mistake that for arrogance.”

  Startled, he let out a sound that might have been a muffled laugh. “My two ex-fiancées might disagree with you.”