LITMIR.BIZ

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recently, he was the head chef, as well—did the rest. But he still chooses to be grateful, and I do like the food here.” Finished, she gave him an inquiring look. “Any other questions?”

      Ian laughed shortly. He supposed he had that coming. He had no idea why he’d pushed the issue, only that an uncustomary flare of temper had surfaced when he saw the way the older man had held on to Dakota for a beat too long. There was no reason why he should have cared, even if the two were lovers.

      “I guess that puts me in my place. Sorry.”

      Randy almost choked on the water he’d just sipped. Regaining control, he stared at Ian. “Oh God, this is a monumental moment. Russell never apologizes.”

      Ian opened the menu, hoping to return to business as usual. The selections ran down two long columns. “Because I’m usually not wrong.”

      Randy grinned. “He’s also been known to walk on water on occasion.”

      MacKenzie’s eyes shifted to the other man. “Now that I’d like to book for the show.”

      Ian didn’t even glance up. “Sorry, only private showings.”

      Dakota laughed. Her eyes fairly gleamed with delight as she looked at him. “Hey, you do have a sense of humor.”

      “Sometimes,” he muttered, wishing his partner would start to use his gift of gab and bail him out of this.

      As if sensing Ian’s thoughts and taking pity on him, Randy picked up the menu and looked down the long columns. “So, what’s good here?”

      “I can honestly say everything,” Dakota told him. MacKenzie nodded her assent. “I’ve sampled every item at one time or another and couldn’t tell you which was his best.”

      Ian glanced over the top of his menu. His eyes slowly slid down as much of her trim torso as was visible to him. Women didn’t generally admit to having a healthy appetite, so he believed her. “How do you keep the weight off?”

      Dakota thought for a moment. Weight had never been a problem for her. “Regular exercise, I suppose.” Or as regular as she could get it, given her hectic schedule.

      “Having the metabolism of a hummingbird doesn’t hurt, either,” MacKenzie chimed in.

      Dakota laughed. “You should talk.” If she were into envying people, MacKenzie would be at the top of her list. The smaller woman could eat from morning until night and never show any of it. “She eats ice cream as if it was going out of style and never gains so much as a lousy ounce.”

      Ian smiled politely at both women. He was here to have a drink and a late lunch, nothing more. He’d managed to keep a distance between himself and the people he worked for. Doing the same with Dakota Delany shouldn’t be difficult.

      Shouldn’t be, a small voice in his mind echoed for reinforcement.

      The small voice somehow rang false.

      Ian closed his menu as the food server came their way to take their order. He glanced at the glass of wine standing by his plate. He’d never really cared for wine. “They have beer here?”

      Dakota grinned. “More kinds than you could possibly imagine.”

      Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all, he thought. He raised his eyes to Dakota’s.

      Then again…

      Chapter Four

      The buzzing pulsed insistently as it wedged its way into a low-grade din in the restaurant.

      MacKenzie sighed, retiring her menu to the table. She looked up at their slim-hipped food server who stood with an electronic pad and stylus poised in his hand.

      “I’m probably going to have to pass,” she said. Tilting the pager that had become a permanent accessory, she nodded. “Yup, I’m going to have to pass.” She exchanged looks with Randy. “The studio’s paging me.”

      “Why don’t you just call them back?” Randy asked.

      Both Dakota and she knew that it was never that simple. “A—” she held up one finger “—the reception here’s usually not the best. Like as not, I’ll probably pick up Angela Redding’s conversation.” Underscoring her point, MacKenzie nodded at a mature-looking woman sitting at the next table. The woman’s autographed photo graced the wall and she was known as the grande dame of one of the longest-running soap operas on the air. “And B—” a second finger joined the first “—they’ll just tell me to get back there, anyway.”

      Randy rose to his feet to let her slide out of the booth. MacKenzie flashed a smile at Ian and Randy. “It’s been fun,” she told the two men.

      Randy stopped her before she could leave. “Why don’t I walk you back?”

      The suggestion freshened her smile, but etiquette had her protesting. “You don’t have to do that.”

      Randy gave a half shrug. “Well, since I’m on my feet anyway,” he pointed out, “I might as well just keep moving.” He took her arm. “Besides, this gives me a chance to ask a few questions.”

      Dakota noted that her friend gave up any attempt at protest. “Is charm part of being a bodyguard?”

      “It helps.” He looked over his shoulder at Ian. “I’ll catch up with you later.” Ian merely nodded. Randy inclined his head toward the other occupant of the booth. “Dakota, a pleasure.”

      “Likewise.”

      She watched Randy and MacKenzie leave. Was it her imagination, or did their bodies appear to be closer than the space around them necessitated? Maybe this was the start of something good for MacKenzie. The woman had no social life outside of the show.

      Neither do you anymore.

      And it was going to stay that way, she decided firmly. Getting burned once was enough for her, at least until the next century. Clearing her throat, she looked back at the man beside her in the booth. “So, is stoicism the other part of being a bodyguard?”

      He ignored her question. Without Randy as a buffer, it was going to get painfully quiet at the table. Taking the initiative, he slid to the edge of the booth. “Look, we don’t have to stay.”

      But Dakota made no move to follow him out. Instead, she placed her hand on his wrist. “Sure we do. We’re the only ones who’ve placed their orders.”

      That stopped him for a moment. “I’m not much on conversation.”

      “That’s okay. I am.” Mildly certain that she’d snuffed out his inclination to go, she took her hand from his wrist. “My father used to say I talked more than any three people he knew.”

      “Sounds like a sharp man.”

      There was nothing she liked better than to talk about her family. A warm smile curved her mouth. “He is. He does the evening news on Channel Seven.”

      Most people she met already knew that, since Daniel Delany had been in the business for over thirty years and had been coming into people’s living rooms, delivering the news in one form or another. But she had a feeling that Ian Russell was not “most people.” More than likely, whatever didn’t touch his immediate sphere didn’t merit his interest.

      “His name is Daniel Delany,” she added. As she watched, she thought she saw a vague spark of recognition filter through his eyes.

      He did follow the news, although he paid little attention to the perfectly groomed parade of newscasters who delivered it. After taking a long drink from the glass of beer, he finally acknowledged, “Name’s familiar.”

      She’d never met a living man without a pulse before, she thought. Still, there was an undercurrent of magnetism that transcended his less-than-lively delivery. Maybe it was the soft lighting, but he seemed to smolder.

      As

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