Yesterday's Love by Sherryl Woods Page A

down!”
    Tate’s eyes widened, but he sat back down. Victoria faced him with her hands on her hips. “Now will you please relax. Loosen your tie. Have a drink. Go upstairs and try to organize my bills. Anything, but please don’t hover over me. I already have two perfectly good parents to do that.”
    â€œDid I touch a sore spot?” he asked innocently.
    Victoria gave him a wobbly smile. “Well, they are a bit overly protective. You’ll see.”
    â€œI brought them a bottle of Scotch, by the way.”
    â€œThey don’t drink.”
    Dismay suddenly filled Tate’s eyes. That look of uncertainty, which gave a surprising impression of vulnerability, touched her. She wanted to pat his hand.
    â€œI knew I should have brought candy,” he muttered.
    â€œYou didn’t need to bring anything.”
    â€œOf course I did. I read Miss Manners.”
    â€œIf you’re so worried about making a good impression on my parents, do me a favor.”
    â€œAnything.”
    â€œWhen we get over there tonight, don’t say anything about working for the IRS or about this audit.”
    Tate looked at her oddly. “I gathered this morning that you wanted to keep this some deep, dark secret. Why? They’re your parents.”
    â€œExactly. They’ll only worry, and I can handle it on my own.”
    â€œWhat if you can’t?”
    Victoria looked at him, a frown creasing her forehead. “You said you believed me.”
    â€œI do, but I’m not the only one involved.”
    â€œBut you’ll do the report. Won’t they take your word for it?”
    Tate hesitated. “Usually they do.”
    â€œWell, then. You see,” she said, flashing him a wide smile that lit her blue eyes with glittering highlights. “I have nothing to worry about.”
    Tate couldn’t bring himself to tell her that if Pete Harrison got even the tiniest inkling of the attraction he felt toward her, he’d put four other agents on the case to check out his work. Pete did not believe his agents should have human emotions. Anyone who did was suspect. In fact, if they could program computers to do the legwork, instead of just the analysis, Pete would happily fire his entire staff.
    Tate glanced at Victoria and felt his stomach muscles tighten at the perfect picture she presented. All of her worries over the audit were apparently forgotten thanks to her faith in his ability to protect her. She hummed cheerfully while stirring the stew. Norman Rockwell would have loved having her as a model. Her cheeks were flushed from the fragrant steam now rising from the pot. Golden-red curls framed her face. As she lifted the spoon to her mouth and tasted the stew, her lips pursed in an enchanting frown. Her hand hovered over the spice rack, then plucked out two bottles and sprinkled a dash of the contents into the pot. She tried the stew again and shook her head.
    â€œIt’s still missing something. You taste it.”
    She dipped out a steaming spoonful and brought it to Tate, who obediently opened his mouth. Her eyes were on his lips as they closed over the spoon, and she ran her tongue over her own in an unconsciously sensual gesture that did all sorts of crazy things to Tate’s pulse rate. He had a sudden urge to take the spoon out of her hand, pull her into his lap and taste the softness of her mouth for himself. Surely, it was more delectable than any stew. His eyes, filled with a raw yearning he couldn’t disguise, lifted to meet hers, and he saw that she shared his hunger. He also saw that it seemed to startle her. She blinked and turned back to the stove, her hand shaking so badly that the spoon clattered against the side of the pot.
    â€œI think the stew tastes fine,” he said softly.
    â€œAre you sure?”
    â€œAbsolutely.”
    She shrugged. “Okay. Then I think we’re about ready. We were supposed to have biscuits, but I ran out of