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to
entertain myself?” Annie repeated. “I don’t,” she informed him
archly. “I plan to work.”
    Mitch tsked. “You can’t work twenty-four
hours a day.”
    “ You’re right,” she
concurred, folding her arms across her chest. “I can only work
sixteen. After that, I’ll sleep.”
    Mitch gave her a disbelieving look, then a
small smiled curled his lips. “You know what they say about people
who are all work and no play…”he said lightly.
    “ Actually, I don’t, but it
doesn’t surprise me that you do.”
    To Annie’s delight, Mitch frowned. “What’s
that supposed to mean? That I don’t know how to work?”
    Annie lifted her shoulders noncommittally.
“If the Italian loafers fit…”
    Mitch turned and stared out the window.
“Well, my approach to work might be a little more laid-back than
yours,” he remarked. “But I would have figured you to be more
intelligent, Annie. You know, it’s not wise to tell your future
boss that you think he’s lazy.”
    Annie turned and glared at
him. “Any more than it would be wise to tell your future boss that
you think she’s stupid.”
    To Annie’s ultimate irritation, Mitch had the
audacity to laugh. He wasn’t taking her or this entire situation
seriously at all. To him it was another high stakes game, and he’d
probably never lost one before.
    But he would lose this one.
    Annie hadn’t spent the last five years making
a name for herself at Hightower Advertising to let this pretty boy
come in and take it away from her. As far as she was concerned,
he’d given up his right to the agency when he walked away. Besides,
according to William, Mitch had already found his niche in
computers. He didn’t need Hightower. She did.
    From beneath her lashes, Annie covertly
studied him. He didn’t look at all like a computer nerd. Given the
sheer size of the man, it was hard to imagine him hunched over a
keyboard, pounding away with gigabyte induced abandon. Especially
with those hands, Annie noted. They were large, very manly hands.
Slightly roughened, she remembered. A woman with an active
imagination could easily envision those hands cupping her face as
he drew her to a kiss. Could picture them sliding over her body.
Kneading her breasts.
    Annie drew in a shaky breath and cursed the
vision. Good thing she’d learned the importance of forgetting
fanciful notions. Her childhood upbringing in the foster care
system had taught her that lesson very well.
    A moment later the driver wheeled the limo
beneath an ornate wrought iron arch bearing the Triple P brand,
then traveled along the tree-lined drive. Uniform white split-rail
fences enclosed acres and acres of pasture land. Les Peter’s
beloved cows dotted the landscape, munching away on the last of the
green grass. It was a peaceful scene and Annie found herself oddly
enchanted. Enchantment, however, quickly turned to awe as they
neared the house. Her jaw dropped as she surveyed the estate before
her.
    It was Tara!
    The grand antebellum mansion
looked as though it had been transplanted from the very set
of Gone with the Wind. She blinked, certain her eyes had deceived her, but the vision
didn’t disappear. Impressive pillars supported the magnificent
veranda on the first and second floors. Huge ferns flanked the
massive double doors and potted palms and other greenery added to
the eye-pleasing décor. Formally manicured gardens surround the
house.
    Beside her, Mitch whistled low. “Nice
spread.”
    “ Uh-huh,” Annie agreed
absently. Further inspection revealed a huge garage, the stables, a
pool house, and various other buildings. Nestled against the back
of the landscaped property were several little cottages. Her
enthusiasm lessened considerably. She and Mitch would undoubtedly
occupy one of those soon. Too soon to suit her, Annie thought
miserably.
    No sooner had Mitch exited the car when the
huge doors to the house flung open and Les Peters rushed out. His
little booted feet beat a hasty tattoo across