High-Powered, Hot-Blooded

Annie looked at the closed study door and wondered about the little boy who had been abandoned over and over by his mother.

“When Duncan was eleven or twelve, he told his mother to either stay or go. She had to pick. I think he was hoping she would choose to be a part of his life. Instead she disappeared. He never mentioned her again. I got word a few years later that she’d died. I told him. He said it didn’t matter.”

Hiding the pain, she thought sadly. Because it had to have mattered. First his mother had betrayed him, then Valentina had. Duncan had learned difficult lessons from the women who were supposed to love him. No wonder he didn’t let anyone inside.

“I was hard on him,” Lawrence admitted. “I didn’t know anything about raising a kid. I took him to the gym with me, taught him to box. He was set on college, which confused the hell out of me, but he made it. Got a scholarship and everything.” There was pride in his voice.

“He’s a good man, and a lot of that is because of you,” she said.

“I hope so. You know about his ex-wife?”

She nodded.

“There was a disaster. I never liked her and I’m glad she’s gone, but now I worry Duncan won’t ever settle down. He needs a family. Someone to come home to.”

Not a very subtle message, Annie thought, wishing it were a possibility. “Duncan was very clear,” she said. “This is a business relationship, nothing more.”

“Is that what you want?”

A simple question with an easy answer. “I’m not the only one who gets to decide.”

“Maybe not, but you can influence him.”

“You’re giving me too much credit.”

“You’d be surprised.”

If only, she thought. After all he’d been through, she wasn’t sure Duncan would ever be willing to give his heart and she couldn’t settle for anything less.

“I hope he finds someone,” she said.

“Even if that means someone other than you?”

“Of course.”

Lawrence stared at her for a long time. “You know what? I believe you. Which makes me hope things work out. Don’t give up on my nephew, Annie. He’s not easy, but he’s worth it.”

Before she could say anything in response, the study door opened and Duncan came out.

“You about done telling her all my secrets?” he asked his uncle.”

“No, but we made a good start at it.”

Duncan chuckled. “Glad I could help. Ready to watch the movie?”

“Sure.” Lawrence winked at her. “While he’s playing with his electronics, let me tell you about the time I beat a southpaw. It was back in ’72. Miami. Talk about a hot day.”

Duncan groaned, putting the DVD into the player.

“I don’t mind,” Annie said honestly. “Were you the favorite?”

Lawrence grinned. “Honey, I was practically a god.”

Annie shelved her heart-to-heart with Lawrence as her commitments with Duncan took center stage. The following Monday, she attended a party at an art gallery that featured stark modern paintings that were beyond confusing. The single tiny red dot on the snow-white canvas was the least of the strangeness. There was a collection of black paintings. Just black. Apparently they were supposed to represent bleakness, and as far as she was concerned, the artist had done a fine job.

Wednesday night was a charity fund-raiser with an auction of ornaments painted by celebrities. Duncan bought a beautiful tree done by Dolly Parton. For Lawrence, he claimed, but Annie wondered if he might have a little crush on the singer himself. Tonight was a dinner at the Getty Museum in Malibu. Duncan was picking her up at five, which meant she had to be home no later than four so she could get ready. She was nearly on time, a positive sign. Then she felt the telltale uneven thudding that signaled another flat tire.

“No!” Annie yelled, slapping her steering wheel. “Not tonight. It’s not a good time.” Although she couldn’t think when a better time might be. She was always running somewhere.

She pulled into a mini-mart parking lot and got out of her car. The sun blazed down on her. It might be December everywhere else, but in L.A. it felt like August.