“Need any help?” Mac called after her.
She turned then and glared at him. “No. I’ve got everything under control, Mr. Valentine.”
Mac had never seen anyone look at him with such full-on revulsion, and he had no idea why. And her palely masked anger didn’t end there. It continued all through dinner. Not that the DeBolds or the Keavys really picked up on it, they were way too focused on the food—which was perfection. But Mac saw every little glare she tossed his way as he served himself another helping of her mouthwatering brisket and smashed red potatoes, and wondered why the hell she was so upset at him. It couldn’t be just because he was responsible for inviting Tim to the house. What was the big deal, so he knew her in high school?
Maybe he’d have to go to Tim for the information if Olivia wasn’t going to speak to him. He looked over at Tim. The guy was just going with the flow. He didn’t even look at Olivia.
“Pecan pie is one of my favorite desserts,” Harold was saying to Olivia, his plate nearly empty.
Olivia gave him a warm smile. “I’m so glad. Would you like a second piece? How about you, Louise?”
“Absolutely.” Louise held out her plate. “And I’m not even going to ask you to force me in to it.”
Avery dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “Will you force me then, Olivia?”
“Of course,” Olivia said, keeping her gaze fixed on Tim’s wife. “I demand that you hold out your plate, Avery.”
Avery gave her a small salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
Avery and Louise broke out into laughter as they passed around the fresh whipped cream to top their pie. Mac, however, was too distracted to find humor in the situation. When he should’ve been selling himself to the DeBolds, talking about how he could change their financial future, he was staring at Olivia, wondering what was wrong with her and how he could fix it. It pissed him off. Why did he care if she was angry with him?
After the brown-sugar coffee and pecan pie had been completely devoured, Avery thanked both Olivia and Mac for their hospitality and she and a very unsocial Tim took off. The DeBolds, feeling a little jet-lagged and extremely full, requested an early night, as well, and retired to their room.
The night had been a successful one—on the business front at any rate. The DeBolds seemed content and happy with Mac and with his home, and wasn’t that the first step to having them as clients? With the DeBolds in bed, Mac had to deal with Olivia, who had fled to the kitchen as soon as both couples had gone.
When Mac entered the room, Olivia was camped out over the sink, washing dishes at a frenetic pace, taking out her anger on a serving platter.
“Great dinner,” he said, walking over to her, leaning against the counter next to the sink.
“Yes,” she said stiffly. “I think you’ve impressed them.”
“I hope so.”
“Yep. One step closer to getting the big fish on the hook.”
He didn’t respond to her sarcasm. “Do you need any help?”
“No.”
He exhaled heavily. “Are you going to tell me why you’re so angry with me?”
She continued to scrub the life out of a white platter, and Mac wondered if talking right now was a stupid idea. Maybe she just needed to cool off with her soap and hot water. But then she dropped the platter in the sink and turned to face him, anger and disappointment in her dark eyes.
“I knew you were out to punish my father and use me in the process,” she said. “But I had no idea how far you’d go.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No.”
“Tim Keavy,” she snapped.
“What about him?”
She shook her head. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Don’t act like you’re clueless. It doesn’t suit you. You’re a shark, be proud of it.”
“You’re nuts, lady.” He gritted his teeth and pushed away from the counter. “All I know is you two went to the same high school.”
“Right.” She glared at him, her nostrils flaring. “So how does this go? You think by outing my sordid past to my dad, he’ll back down on whatever he has on you? Apologize?” She shook her head, then walked past him out of the room, saying, “It’ll never happen. My father’s even more stubborn than I am.”
He followed her. “Where are you going?”
“To my room.”
“You’re not leaving?”
“I’m going to give this job everything I have, get you the clients you want, then get the hell out. You’ll have no ammunition if you’re looking to ruin my business reputation along with my personal one.”
“You’re talking crazy,” he said, following her up the stairs and down the hall to the guest room. She had chosen the one on the opposite side of the house than the DeBolds, and Mac was thankful he didn’t have to whisper.
When she got to the door, she said, “Good night, Mac,” then went inside.
When she tried to close the door behind her, he wouldn’t let her. He held the door wide. “Listen, you can’t just throw all that garbage in my face, then walk away.”
She released her grip on the door, put her hands up in the air. “What do you want to say, Valentine? That you didn’t know your best friend from college knew me?”
“Damn right,” Mac said hotly, walking into the room and closing the door behind him.
“I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care if you believe me or not, it’s true.”
Standing just inches from him, she held her chin high as she stared hard into his eyes. “It’s going to take a lot more to humiliate me and screw with my father than tossing my past mistakes, my past humiliations, back in my face.”
He grabbed her shoulders. “I’m not doing that.”
“Bull.”
“I don’t give a damn about your past.”
“I do!” she shouted, her voice cracking with emotion. She dropped her gaze, bit her lip and cursed. When she looked up at him again, she looked like a kid, so vulnerable it killed him. “I hate that part of my life.”
Tears sprang to her eyes.
“Stop that.” He gave her a gentle shake, for the first time feeling the guilt that came with his plan. “Stop it, Olivia.”
This wasn’t how it was supposed go. He was the one who was supposed to make her miserable, then send her back to her father in shame. He should be reveling in the fact that he had access to information about her past that would make her father suffer.
“Damn it.” He hauled her against him and kissed her hard on the mouth. “I don’t care what happened before, and neither should you.” He nuzzled her lips, then nipped at them, suckled them, until she gave in, gave up and sagged against him.
“There’s nothing wrong with this,” he said as his hands found her lower back and raked upward. “Or this.” He dipped his head and kissed her throat, suckling the skin that covered her rapid pulse, grinning as a hungry whimper escaped her throat. “Nothing to be ashamed of, Olivia.”
“You don’t understand,” she uttered, letting her head fall back.
He held her close, his lips brushing