Simon Says by Lori Foster Page A

down at the gigantic—and empty—thermos sitting beside her satchel. “You drink too much of that.”
    â€œYeah, thanks. I’ll make a note of your concern.” Her smile mocked him. “See ya tomorrow, Simon.”
    No way in hell. He’d had enough of her lunatic behavior. Before she could saunter away, he caught her arm and brought her back around. “Give me his number. I’ll call him.”
    So much hope shone in her pretty blue eyes that Simon wished he’d made the offer sooner.
    â€œReally? That is, I don’t know if that’ll do it, but it’s worth a try if you really—”
    â€œJust leave the number with Haggerty and I’ll call him tonight.” Still holding on to her arm, and feeling like a cunning high school boy about to cop a feel, Simon added, “Leave your number, too, and I’ll let you know what he has to say.”
    A wide smile put dimples in her cheeks and drove away some of her tiredness. “If you weren’t so gross with sweat right now, I’d hug you.”
    A man could only take so much. Simon trailed his hand up her arm to her shoulder and urged her in closer.
    As he bent to her mouth, he said, “I’ll take a rain check, then.” And he kissed her. Not as long this time, not as deep or hot. But it fed something in his soul, and made him want more.
    A whole lot more.
    Even after he ended the kiss, Dakota stayed poised, eyes closed, lips slightly parted—tempting him. He touched her soft mouth with a fingertip. “No more displays, woman. We’ve caused enough gossip.”
    She swallowed, nodded. Finally, she sighed. “You are one hell of a kisser, Sublime. Maybe even the best.” As if in regret, she shook her head at him and turned to walk away.
    Simon watched her go to Haggerty. She had to find the number in her cell, and he watched her every move, knowing he should get away from her, but hating the thought of seeing her so exhausted.
    As Dean said, he had to handle the situation somehow, the sooner the better.
    Calling Barnaby was a compromise, nothing more. He’d talk with the man, tell him himself that he wasn’t interested, and then maybe he’d regain some peace in his life.
    Because then, Barnaby wouldn’t be between him and Dakota.
    And that meant she’d be available. He could hardly wait.

    B ARNABY paced the small living room that he’d once shared with Joan. He liked this house, the coziness of it and the quiet middle-class ambiance. Thanks to the insurance money and his renovations, he could be comfortable here for the rest of his life. He could relax.
    He’d earned that right, damn it.
    But unless Dakota succeeded, he’d lose it and everything else that he’d become accustomed to.
    Poor sweet Joan would have died for nothing.
    Barnaby looked at the young man sprawled in his favorite chair. He despised him. He always had. “I already told you, Marvin. I haven’t gotten the money yet, but I will. Soon.”
    â€œYou better start pushing the right buttons, old man, before I get tired of waiting and push them myself.”
    Barnaby’s eyes narrowed. “Are you threatening me?”
    All congeniality disappeared. Marvin shoved out of his seat and, giving way to a ferocious temper, overturned the coffee table. Drinks and magazines dumped across the pristine carpet.
    â€œThreaten you?” he screamed. He threw a lamp against a wall, breaking it into chunks, then stomped on the linen shade with his dirty boots. “I don’t fucking threaten.”
    Praying there wouldn’t be any more damage, Barnaby stood still and waited for the anger to subside.
    â€œI’m telling you, God damn it. If you want to keep what you have, I better get paid.”
    â€œAll right, all right.” Shaken and furious and, though he hated to admit it, afraid, Barnaby tried to placate him with fast promises. “I’ll take care of