Under the Tycoon's Protection by Anna DePalo Page A

prepared.”
    Was that amusement she saw lurking in his eyes? If she wasn’t mistaken, he knew she’d been thinking—no, hoping—she’d managed to shake him.
    Instead, he was looming above her, muscular legs planted near the side of the pool, his hands braced on his hips, his chest and forearms leanly corded and well defined.
    Inwardly, she irritatedly shoved down the feminine urge to yield. Outwardly, she shrugged for his benefit. “Suit yourself,” she said, and then took off toward the other end of the pool.
    Within a few minutes, however, she became aware of him in the lane beside her. She pushed down her annoyance as he stayed with her down one length of the pool and up the other, matching her stroke for stroke.
    She paused at the realization. Was that what hewas? she thought. Her match? Is that why she found him so annoying?
    She’d thrown her best at Connor over the years and he’d thrown it right back at her. He didn’t let her call the shots like a lot of the men she’d dated. Instead, he was an immovable, solid block of granite and she hadn’t even made a dent despite years of trying.
    Except, last night he’d wanted her. She imagined that if she hadn’t made some flippant comment, if she’d taken his offer seriously, they’d have wound up in bed together.
    She tested that thought despite herself. In bed with Connor Rafferty. In bed with her nemesis. In bed with the most detestably annoying and implacable man she knew.
    Instinctively, she knew that their sleeping together would not be a tame affair. No, they’d take their contentious relationship into the bedroom and they’d be wild and uninhibited and a match of wills and passions.
    She knew he found her at least somewhat attractive these days if their recent kisses were anything to go by. So why not just give in and scratch the itch they were both feeling?
    She felt warm despite the coolness of the water. It would be so easy to go to bed with Connor—and so complicated—not least because he was currently living in the same house and sleeping just down the hall.
    A part of her—the part that was apt to be flatteredby evidence of her feminine power—was thrilled she’d finally gotten Connor’s attention, even if it was over ten years too late. That part of her whispered, why not find out exactly what kind of lover he could be?
    Still, Connor was Quentin’s closest friend. He was so close to her family that Matt and Noah thought of him as an honorary brother. If she gave in to temptation, she might have to deal with seeing her old lover over a family dinner now and then for the rest of her life.
    When she found herself touching the side of the pool again, she decided to stop and pull herself upright. Her gaze immediately connected with Connor’s hazel one.
    He was big and male and disturbingly close, beads of water clinging to his shoulders above the water line. “Nice swim, petunia. Is this how you keep in shape?”
    â€œI enjoy a good swim now and then.” She paused. “Alone.”
    He smiled. “Glad I’ve been let in on the secret ritual.”
    â€œLucky me.”
    She swam away from him then and toward the ladder at the side of the pool. He swam after her and she was acutely aware of him watching her get herself out of the pool, water cascading from her body.
    She grabbed a towel while he hauled himself out of the water, too. As she headed toward the lockerroom, he called after her, “Meet you outside in twenty minutes.”
    She shot him a baleful look over her shoulder. He was shadowing her in the most literal way possible and it was all extremely disturbing.
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    An hour later, Connor parked in front of the townhouse and followed Allison to her front door. The black metal mailbox nailed to the brick face of the house was half open and visibly stuffed with catalogs and other mail.
    He stepped around her before she could