Wildest Hearts by Jayne Ann Krentz Page A

her with the same unblinking gaze Oliver used to such effect.
     
    “Your sister seemed a little upset,” Annie ventured.
     
    “She'll get over it.”
     
    “Is there anything I can do?”
     
    “No.” Oliver paused and then added very politely, “Thank you.”
     
    Annie hesitated, aware that she was being warned away just as she had been warned off the subject of Sybil last night. But she felt she had to at least try to get Oliver to communicate. “Would you like to talk about it? Sometimes it helps to discuss this kind of thing.”
     
    “I hope,” Oliver said with a faint trace of amusement, “that you're not going to offer to help me get in touch with my feelings.”
     
    Annie glowered at him. “Forget it. If you don't want to talk about it, that's your problem. In the meantime we have another little matter that needs settling.”
     
    “What's that?”
     
    “Bolt is fixing dinner.”
     
    “That's one of his duties here. He's an excellent chef.”
     
    “I'm sure he is.” Annie crossed her arms and leaned one shoulder against the door jamb. “The man's a machine. He can do anything so long as he's plugged in. But we don't need a cordon bleu chef tonight. I'm cooking dinner.”
     
    “Are you?”
     
    “Yes. We're going to have tacos. I picked up all the ingredients at Pike Place Market including a dozen of the best corn tortillas you've ever tasted. But first you have to kick Bolt out of my kitchen.”
     
    “Your kitchen?”
     
    “You want me to duel with him for kitchen rights?”
     
    Oliver got to his feet. “No, I think we've had enough dramatics around here already this evening. If you're sure you want to do the cooking, I'll send Bolt home.”
     
    Annie smiled with satisfaction. It was a small battle, woman against machine, but she had won it. “Mind if I come along to watch?”
     
    Oliver's brow rose as he started down the hall toward the kitchen. “Hoping to see a little blood spilled?”
     
    “Certainly not. I just want to see Bolt's face when you let him know that I can give a few orders around here.”
     
    Oliver looked thoughtful. “It looks like I'm about to become an expert in the problems of domestic management. Do all new husbands go through this?”
     
    “There is a period of adjustment in any marriage,” Annie said loftily.
     
    “I'll keep that in mind.”
     
    Bolt looked up from paring potatoes as Oliver and Annie walked into the kitchen.
     
    “Sir?”
     
    “We won't be needing your services tonight, Bolt. Take the evening off,” Oliver said.
     
    Bolt glanced at Annie. His face showed no hint of emotion, but it was obvious he knew he'd lost the skirmish. “Yes, sir.”
     
    Annie immediately felt guilty. Poor Bolt. He had a right to feel as if he'd been usurped. She was the newcomer around here. “Here, let me help you.” She hurried over to the sink and began cleaning up the potato peelings. “Why don't you take the potatoes home with you, Bolt? You can use them for your own dinner.”
     
    “No, thank you, Mrs. Rain.” Bolt took off his apron and hung it on the inside of the pantry door.
     
    “Would you like to join us for tacos?” she asked, feeling desperate.
     
    “I don't care for tacos.” Bolt walked out of the kitchen.
     
    Annie felt as if she'd spent the afternoon pulling wings off flies. She turned to Oliver with a stricken expression. “Do you think he's really upset?”
     
    “Who? Bolt?” Oliver opened a small door that concealed a wine rack. He perused the bottles consideringly. “Why should he be upset?”
     
    “Well, I did sort of get him kicked out of here. I hope I didn't hurt his feelings too badly.”
     
    “He's not out of a job,” Oliver said dryly. “He's just got himself an evening off.”
     
    “Yes, but I'm not certain he sees it that way.”
     
    “Annie, you got what you wanted. Bolt is out of your kitchen.” Oliver applied the corkscrew to the top of the wine bottle. “There's not much point in being