Читать онлайн книгу "But Not For Me"
But Not For Me
Annette Broadrick
IN LOVE WITH HER BOSSUndistracted by love, brawny construction boss Brad Phillips had worked his way up from street kid to millionaire. Of course, Rachel Wood, his invaluable assistant, had believed in–and secretly loved–Brad from the beginning. But after eight years of a strictly professional relationship, Rachel dared not dream of more.So why, when she requested a leave of absence, believing herself in danger in Dallas, did Brad insist on whisking her to safety–in his home, in his arms, as his "convenient" wife? Had Rachel's near-disappearance–after nearly a decade–stunned Brad into seeing her as a woman…into believing in love?
All that love stuff people carried on about might be okay for others—but not for me,
Brad decided. He opened his bedroom door and abruptly halted. Rachel stood there, ready to knock.
“Uh, look, Rachel, I know I was way out of line earlier, and I apologize. I—”
She placed her fingers lightly across his lips. “I just came to tell you that if your offer is still open, I believe our getting married would solve a lot of problems.”
Why hadn’t she just taken a bat and hit him over the head? She couldn’t have stunned him more.
“You want to marry me?”
Her smile was as sweet as an angel’s. “I believe I do, Mr. Phillips. I believe I do.”
Dear Reader,
June is busting out all over with this month’s exciting lineup!
First up is Annette Broadrick’s But Not For Me. We asked Annette what kinds of stories she loved, and she admitted that a heroine in love with her boss has always been one of her favorites. In this romance, a reserved administrative assistant falls for her sexy boss, but leaves her position when she receives threatening letters. Well, this boss has another way to keep his beautiful assistant by his side—marry her right away!
Royal Protocol by Christine Flynn is the next installment of the CROWN AND GLORY series. Here, a lovely lady-in-waiting teaches an admiral a thing or two about chemistry. Together, they try to rescue royalty, but end up rescuing each other. And you can never get enough of Susan Mallery’s DESERT ROGUES series. In The Prince & the Pregnant Princess, a headstrong woman finds out she’s pregnant with a seductive sheik’s child. How long will it take before she succumbs to his charms and his promise of happily ever after?
In The Last Wilder, the fiery conclusion of Janis Reams Hudson’s WILDERS OF WYATT COUNTY, a willful heroine on a secret quest winds up in a small town and locks horns with the handsome local sheriff. Cheryl St. John’s Nick All Night tells the story of a down-on-her-luck woman who returns home and gets a second chance at love with her very distracting next-door neighbor. In Elizabeth Harbison’s Drive Me Wild, a schoolbus-driving mom struggles to make ends meet, but finds happiness with a former flame who just happens to be her employer!
It’s time to enjoy those lazy days of summer. So, grab a seat by the pool and don’t forget to bring your stack of emotional tales of love, life and family from Silhouette Special Edition!
Sincerely,
Karen Taylor Richman
Senior Editor
But Not for Me
Annette Broadrick
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Patricia,
Who popped back into my life when I needed you the most.
You must be my fairy godmother!
Thank you for believing that I could write again. Your faith in me has helped me regain my faith in myself. Here’s to the next twenty years together. Long may your magic wand wave.
ANNETTE BROADRICK
believes in romance and the magic of life. Since 1984, Annette has shared her view of life and love with readers. In addition to being nominated by Romantic Times as one of the Best New Authors of that year, she has also won the Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best in its Series; the Romantic Times W.I.S.H. award; and the Romantic Times Lifetime Achievement Awards for Series Romance and Series Romantic Fantasy.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Chapter One
Where is she?
Brad Phillips slammed the phone back in its cradle. There had been no answer at Rachel Wood’s home. Instead, all he’d heard was her cheerful recording inviting him to leave his name and number. She already knew his name and number. He was her boss and she should have been at work hours ago.
Impatient and more than a little unnerved by her continued absence, Brad shoved his chair away from his desk, stood and began to pace. He couldn’t remember a time in the eight years she’d worked for him when Rachel hadn’t called if she was running late.
So what is going on?
He glanced at his watch. Since she was generally at her desk working hard by the time he arrived each morning around seven-thirty, that meant that she was more than two hours late.
The only scenario that made sense—and the thought scared the hell out of him—was that she’d been in an accident on her way to the office and was lying unconscious somewhere, unable to call him. Twice this morning he’d picked up the phone to call the various hospitals that served the metropolitan area of Dallas, Texas, to see if she had been taken to any of their emergency rooms.
So far, he’d managed to talk himself out of that move, at least for the time being. His head told him that it was too soon to panic. No doubt there was a perfectly logical explanation why she hadn’t gotten in touch with him. Unfortunately for his peace of mind, he’d been unable to come up with one.
Brad continued to pace, wondering how long a person had to be missing before you could call the police. Probably more than two hours, which meant there was nothing he could do but wait, not his favorite form of activity. Or inactivity, which was why he’d never considered patience a virtue. He considered patience a complete waste of time.
His intercom rang and Brad almost leaped across the room to reach his desk.
“Yes?”
His secretary, Janelle, said, “I wanted to remind you of your ten o’clock meeting with Arthur Simmons.”
“Thanks,” he replied. He turned away from his desk and walked over to the window. Just what he needed, he thought, his irritation and apprehension climbing another notch—a meeting with Arthur Simmons without Rachel to run interference.
The man was a genius with numbers and financial strategy. He’d saved Brad all kinds of money since he’d become the head of Phillips Construction Company’s accounting department. Brad considered himself blessed to have the guy.
However, he dreaded each meeting that he was forced to sit through. Simmons had to be one of the most boring men Brad had ever encountered. Brad needed Rachel at the meeting as a buffer. She knew when he’d had enough of long-winded recitations delivered in an annoying monotone. She had a knack for bringing meetings to a close without offending anyone.
If Rachel didn’t show up in the next fifteen minutes, Brad would be left on his own to suffer through Simmons’s long-winded explanations of the latest reports from his department.
The numbers were essential to Brad and he would be the last person to deny their importance, but he would much prefer to look over the figures himself without having them explained to him in excruciating detail.
Maybe it was Simmons’s attitude that bugged him. He came from a wealthy, upper-crust family somewhere back east. Arthur had made it clear during his interviews for the position that despite his moneyed background, he felt called to share his knowledge and expertise with humanity.
In Arthur’s case, humanity appeared to be Phillips Construction Company, but Brad didn’t care as long as Arthur continued to save—and therefore help to make—the company a great deal of money.
Although the two of them were close in age, he and Simmons couldn’t be more different. Brad had come up the hard way. He was a street kid who had eventually built a multimillion-dollar construction business from little more than his back, his bare hands and encouragement from a man who had believed he had potential.
Simmons, on the other hand, had probably never worked up a sweat in his life. Instead, he had attended all the right private schools and graduated with honors from a prestigious eastern university.
Brad was in no way envious of the man. The gulf between their backgrounds just underlined the fact that they had nothing in common…except the mutual goal to make the company a success.
The way Brad saw it, he was a physical person. Simmons was a card-carrying intellectual. His carefully manicured hands made it obvious that Simmons had never picked up anything heavier than a pencil.
Brad turned away from the window, running his hand through his hair in agitation. He needed his invaluable administrative assistant and he needed her now.
He forced himself to return to his desk, almost hearing Rachel’s voice telling him to relax and use his time practicing patience.
Brad threw himself into his chair with a long-suffering sigh. Rachel’s voice often echoed in his head. He figured she’d taken him on as some kind of project.
He would never forget the day he had hired her. He’d had no idea at the time that it was the smartest decision he’d ever make.
He’d been twenty-five, carefully tending a fledgling company by working long hours and generally sleeping in the construction trailer at his current building site.
He had a construction crew but no one who knew anything about the paperwork involved, including himself.
He’d been awarded the contract to build a multiplex theatre in north Dallas, the biggest job of his career. After the elation wore off, Brad had realized that he could no longer operate his growing business out of his apartment and a construction trailer.
He needed a bona fide office…with real office workers. He found the thought terrifying. An office would mean hiring—at the very least—a receptionist, a secretary and a bookkeeper. The latter job took up entirely too much of his time already.
The problem was that he couldn’t afford to hire that many people. Not yet. But once he finished the multiplex, he felt that more business would come his way. He knew he provided quality structures. He’d worked hard to build a reputation for honesty, integrity and fair dealing.
Yes, there would be more work down the road, but until then he still worked on a shoestring budget.
Brad faced the reality of his situation and advertised for what he could afford—a receptionist—in the hope that whoever applied for the position might be able to do more than answer the phone.
His first step had been to lease office space. He’d negotiated the price with the owner by agreeing to do repair jobs on the building whenever needed. He’d worked on the new space every night and weekend.
When he placed the help-wanted ad in the paper, the office space was still a mess, which meant he had to figure out where to hold interviews. He couldn’t expect a woman to show up at the project location and pick her way around building supplies, equipment and construction debris to get to his trailer. He eventually settled on a corner coffee shop near the site.
His phone rang repeatedly the day the ad first appeared. Brad was excited by the response. Surely he would find someone qualified within days.
A week later he was less excited. By then, he knew he was in deep trouble. Either the applicant wanted too much money or she didn’t appear to know how to handle business calls or keep messages straight. By the third week, he was desperate.
Then Rachel Wood called.
“Phillips Construction,” he yelled over the drilling noise going on outside.
In a cool, refined voice, she said, “Mr. Phillips, please.”
Man, she sounded so professional that it never occurred to him she was anything but some CEO’s administrative assistant.
“You’ve got him,” he said grinning. He was already fantasizing about what the woman with the crisp—yet husky—voice might look like.
“I understand you’re seeking a receptionist. Is the position still available?”
He’d been leaning back in his chair reading some reports when she called. At her words, he almost flipped over the chair. Struggling to maintain his balance, Brad triumphed over gravity enough to place his feet on the floor before saying, “Uh, yeah, uh, the position is open if you’re interested.” He heard the doubt in his voice and hoped she didn’t notice.
She gave a quiet sigh that he could have sworn sounded like relief. But when she spoke her voice was perfectly composed.
“When may I set up an appointment to be interviewed?”
He almost told her the job was already hers if she wanted it, but managed to restrain himself. This must be some kind of mistake, but at least he’d get to see her in person and have his curiosity satisfied. With a person like her answering his phone, his office would immediately appear financially sound, stable, and trustworthy.
He was already lamenting the fact that he would never be able to afford to hire her.
He glanced at his watch. “Is it too late to meet today?” he asked and held his breath.
“Not at all. That would be fine. If you could give me your address and a time that would be convenient, I’ll be there.”
Now came the sticky part. “Well, the thing is, my office space won’t be ready for occupancy until next week, but there’s a coffee shop near my present project where we could meet, if that’s okay with you—say around five o’clock?”
“Certainly,” she replied with a crispness that he found attractive and calming.
He gave her the address and directions. After he hung up, he sat staring at the wall. Don’t get too excited, he warned himself. Once she finds out what a tiny operation this is and all the paperwork that keeping it running entails, a woman like her will laugh at the pittance of salary I have to offer.
Brad forced his attention back to the reports before he returned to work with his crew. As the day progressed, he kept an eye on the clock to be certain he’d arrive at the interview on time.
By the time he walked into the coffee shop, Brad had washed up, but what he wore—faded jeans, a shirt with the sleeves ripped out and battered work boots covered with dust and grime—marked him for what he was: a construction worker. He might be the boss, but he knew he was too rough around the edges to mingle socially with the clientele he hoped to impress with his company’s performance.
He glanced around the small café, realizing too late that he’d neglected to get a description of Rachel Wood. He’d been more rattled at the time than he’d thought.
He rubbed his hand over his face, frowning. All right. Process of elimination. How many women were there? Alone?
Unfortunately, at least five.
Were any of them looking at him?
He dropped his head in disgust and stared at his boots. All of them watched him, and two of them wore predatory expressions.
A strong sense of relief coursed through him when a familiar voice from behind him said, “Pardon me, but are you Mr. Phillips?”
He turned and met the cool green gaze of a very attractive young woman who wore a tailored dress the color of her eyes. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a knot and framed her heart-shaped face.
The top of her head was level with his chin.
“You must be Ms. Wood,” he replied, a sense of relief that they’d connected washing over him. This woman couldn’t actually save his life; it only felt that way.
She smiled and nodded. “I chose a booth toward the back, thinking it would be a little more private.”
Brad almost missed what she said, because he was so intent on listening to her voice. In person, she sounded even more well-bred than she had on the phone. Rachel Wood was one classy lady. He was a little intimidated by her beauty, her poise and her obviously expensive education.
He wished he’d taken time to go to his apartment to change clothes, but it was too late now.
Brad motioned for her to lead the way and was treated to a view of her erect posture, her confident stride and a figure that was almost—but not quite—disguised by the prim dress she wore.
They sat across from each other. The waitress immediately appeared.
“Hi Brad,” the waitress said, giving him the seductive smile that he’d seen every time she was on duty.
“Yeah, hi, Mitzi, just a cup of coffee, please.”
Mitzi glanced at Rachel and motioned to the cup in front of her. “Need a refill?”
Rachel shook her head. “No, thank you.”
Once the waitress left, Brad faced Rachel, wondering where to begin. He’d interviewed a dozen women so far, but today he felt like an awkward teenager on a first date. Either that, or as though he was the one being interviewed for a job he desperately wanted.
“I need to tell you up front that I have very little office experience,” Rachel said, looking as though she’d confessed to a crime. “Your ad didn’t state that you required experience, but I didn’t want to mislead you.”
“How are you at learning?” he asked, smiling. She was more nervous than he was, although she’d done a great job of disguising the fact. He relaxed a little, sat back and enjoyed the view. She is one good-looking woman. Way above your league, he reminded himself.
She gave a quick nod. “Show me what you want done and I’ll do it.”
Mitzi returned with his coffee. He nodded without taking his eyes off Rachel. “Thanks,” he murmured. “You know anything about construction work?”
“No, sir.”
He flinched in mock horror. “Hey, I’m not that much older than you. You don’t need to �sir’ me.” He noticed her hand trembling beside the coffee mug, confirming his assessment of her. She was nervous. Of him? Or the interview?
In an attempt to help her to relax, Brad described the company. “I formed my own company a little more than three years ago. I’ve worked construction since I was old enough to wear a tool belt and balance on a girder. What I don’t know anything about is keeping up with bills and payroll and the kind of paperwork that IRS insists I file on a regular basis.”
She picked up her cup and delicately sipped before she commented. “Your ad said something about being a receptionist,” she said with a hint of question in her voice.
“Yeah, because once I have the office open, I need someone to handle calls. I lose more business than I want to think about because I’m unable to check my answering machine at home more often. I get involved in a project and forget about everything else, but I know I can’t keep doing that or I’ll lose the momentum I’ve got going for me.”
“Yes, I can understand that,” she said slowly. She paused, as though searching for words. Finally she said, “About the salary—” she began, then stopped when he waved his hand as though a salary was incidental.
He knew this was the tricky part. He’d lose her when she heard what the job paid. He had to pitch the job as one of opportunity for greater things in the future. His con-artist dad had given Brad innumerable examples of how to convince a mark the future looked rosy.
“The thing is,” he said with what he hoped was a confident grin, “I’m getting more business than I can handle without working around the clock, which is close to what I’m doing already. The jobs are there, you see, but right now my cash flow is a little tight. If you’re willing to work for me, we can work something out now for a starting salary with a firm promise that your pay will increase steadily as we grow.”
Although her shoulders remained the same, Brad got the impression that Rachel had slumped into the bench at his explanation.
He sighed. “How much money were you looking for?” he asked, almost holding his breath for the answer.
“I don’t have a set figure. I finished college in May. I need to find work. My mother has some health problems and can no longer work. She sacrificed a comfortable life to ensure that my brother, sister and I received a good education. I don’t want her to worry about money. She’s done enough.” She sounded composed. Only the pain in her eyes revealed her emotions.
“Are you saying you’ve never worked before?” he asked, rubbing his cheek and realizing he should have shaved before the meeting.
Her lips curled into a wry smile. “Oh, I’ve worked, Mr. Phillips. Just not in an office. I began baby-sitting when I was thirteen, bused tables during high school and graduated to waitress in college. So yes, I’ve worked before,” she quietly added.
He tried not to let his astonishment show. If he’d been asked to guess, he would have said that Rachel Wood had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth and had never needed to lift her hand to any sort of menial labor.
“Where did you go to school?” he asked, his curiosity aroused.
“Southern Methodist University. I wanted to stay close to home and was fortunate to receive a scholastic scholarship that helped me do so.”
“You’ve got me beat by a long shot. I managed an education of sorts, mostly by going to night school while I worked during the day.” As soon as he stopped speaking, Brad was appalled that he had mentioned his background to her. He never discussed his past. Talk about sabotaging himself! He quickly continued. “What did you major in?”
Her smile flashed once more. “You might find it strange for me to interview for a receptionist position, but I took all the business courses I could…accounting, business law, office management…”
She continued to list the subjects he knew little about. He had to pinch himself to be sure he wasn’t dreaming. When she finished her list, he said, “I’ll make a deal with you.”
“Go on.”
“If you’ll come to work for me starting next Monday, you can decide your salary. Look at the books and the overhead. Pay yourself whatever’s left. How’s that?”
“You can’t be serious.” Disapproval frosted her words. He wasn’t surprised. Her reaction was proof enough he’d chosen the perfect candidate for the job.
“I need someone with your skills,” he said, wanting to convince her he wasn’t a complete loon. “Do you intend to take advantage of me?”
She looked at him with reproach. “Of course not.”
“Then I don’t see a problem.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing.” She eyed him for the first time with suspicion.
He grinned. “Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, but no, I don’t do drugs and outside of an occasional beer, don’t drink much, either.”
“How did you know what I was thinking?” she asked, startled.
“You have a very expressive face,” he replied, still smiling. “So, will you consider it? I can take you to the office. I still have a lot to do to have it ready by Monday, but I promise you a place to work by then.” He paused, silently pleading for her to agree.
“All right,” she eventually said, sounding a little uncertain.
“Great,” he said, immediately standing. “You want to ride with me?”
She moved more slowly and with a great deal more grace. “It would be more efficient if I followed you, wouldn’t it?”
Already thinking ahead, he thought, barely able to control the grin that kept threatening to break out. “Sure. Whatever you want.” He left a tip on the table, stopped and paid for their coffee and escorted her outside. “Where’s your car?”
She pointed to a small economy car that looked well used and equally well cared for.
“I’m over here,” he said, pointing to his beat-up truck with its faded red finish that blended well with the rust. After escorting her to her car, he strode to his truck and got in. He waited until she pulled out before he moved into traffic.
Brad was excited about being able to show off his office to someone. He’d been working out of his small apartment so long that he could barely find his way through the place, what with all the papers, files and other business-related products scattered around.
He drove to an older part of town and pulled into the parking lot of a red-brick building from the 1930s. Someday he’d have his own building or a large suite of offices in a prestigious office complex.
Brad stood by his truck and waited for Ms. Wood to pull into the space next to him. Three parking spaces were marked with signs saying Reserved for Phillips Construction Company.
Here was physical proof that he had moved up in the business world. With Ms. Wood’s help, there would be no stopping the company’s growth.
Of course, the future wasn’t reflected in his account ledgers just yet, but he knew the money would be there in the next few years.
They took the elevator to the third floor without speaking. The office was on the top floor, with a nice view of downtown Dallas.
He walked to the end of the hall and unlocked the door with a frosted-glass window. With a slight bow, he stepped back and waved her through the open doorway.
She stepped into the newly renovated space and stopped. “Oh, my. I wasn’t expecting anything quite this large.”
He shrugged. “Well, I figured that since I’m going to be here for a while I’d take the space while it was available. Besides, there will be offices for my site supervisors—when I get them—and I’ll need an office, as will you. Eventually there needs to be a place for a receptionist—”
She turned and faced him with raised brows. “I thought I was going to be your receptionist?”
He nodded. “Sure, at first. But the way I see it, some day you’ll be my administrative assistant with a secretary of your own. That is, if you want to invest your time and energy into making all of this work.”
She walked to one of the windows and looked out. The two men he’d pulled off his crew to finish the place had left everything where they’d been working at quitting time, thinking no one would see the mess. Brad was so used to the clutter of renovation that he’d been oblivious to the mess until now. Seeing the place through her eyes, he could understand that she might not be quite as impressed as he’d hoped.
When she turned away from the window, she looked around at the large open space, her brows raised slightly. “Are you sure this will be finished by Monday? That’s less than a week away.”
“No problem. We’ll finish a few rooms now and leave the rest of the area for storage. Since none of my clients ever see my office, there’s no reason to get fancy.”
She nodded thoughtfully as she continued to inspect the space.
He waited, not wanting to push her. He’d given her the best pitch he could. The decision was hers. He wished there was some way he could show her his vision for the company. There were no guarantees, of course, but he knew that hard work could produce amazing results.
Brad watched while she stepped over and around the clutter and studied the layout from a drawing pinned to one of the walls. Without turning, she asked, “I’m presuming that you’ll have furniture?”
He laughed. “It’ll be delivered Monday. It’s used but in good shape.”
She continued to prowl until she’d seen everything. Rachel walked to where he stood and asked, “What time do you want me here on Monday?”
He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing the company was on its way.
Since then they’d been a team. They had worked together smoothly and efficiently for eight years. He had a hunch that was due more to her diplomacy than to his communication skills. Once he got to know her, Brad discovered Rachel to be as conservative and well-bred as she had appeared to be at the interview. She had a strong work ethic, which he appreciated.
Rachel worked every day for years, through blistering heat waves, drenching downpours, occasional winter sleet storms and once when she’d had the flu.
So where was she today?
Brad didn’t want to contemplate what would happen if Rachel weren’t there to help him run the company. She’d taken on the administrative side of things, leaving him free to do what he did best, build commercial projects.
Within three years, they’d hired more people, including Janelle. Before long, Accounting needed a leader—so he’d hired Arthur. Eventually Rich Harmon took the helm as office manager.
Rachel continued to amaze him. She accompanied him to business dinners with potential clients. She rarely spoke, and if the visitors thought she was there as arm candy, their assumption gave him an advantage. Rachel had a gift—she was a wizard at interpreting expressions, body language and what was implied but not said.
Later, she gave him her impressions of the people and how best to provide what they wanted. Together they would work out proposals with the added data she’d provided. Within a couple of years, Rachel had become more of a partner in the business than a mere assistant. He brought up the idea of making her a partner on more than one occasion. She had refused to discuss the matter with him.
Their present relationship disturbed him not only because she would not accept the partnership she deserved, but because of his attraction to her.
Brad disliked the thought that he was taking advantage of her. She was his business equal, but they both knew he was nowhere near her social equal.
He had never acted on his initial attraction to her. The fear that she might leave the company if he suggested they date had kept him from doing or saying anything that might offend her.
Several weeks ago, they had dinner together to celebrate another first for Phillips Construction Company—their first out-of-state job.
Not only was the new project not in Texas, it wasn’t a commercial building—another first. One of his clients had asked him to bid on a second home for him and his wife to be built in the mountains near Asheville, North Carolina.
Brad ignored the dire predictions of Carl Jackson, his senior supervisor and project manager. Carl pointed out to Brad that constructing a residence was considerably different from building commercial projects. Generally speaking, the project manager had to deal with a wife, which could be a real pain.
Brad had laughed and told him that he had the experience to cope. Carl had not been amused, but he’d taken the assignment, as Brad had known he would.
Carl had been invited to join the dinner celebration but had declined, saying the time to celebrate would be after the project was completed.
Brad and Rachel didn’t see it that way. They were too excited about another avenue opening up for the company. They’d reminisced over their salads, entrées, desserts and coffee about the years they’d worked together, recounting stories to each other. The evening lingered in his memory. He’d been lighthearted and filled with a buoyancy that occurred when he was around Rachel.
Rachel Wood was his best friend. Actually, she was his only friend. He didn’t have time to socialize. He felt comfortable with her. In addition, he trusted her. He trusted few people.
Where was she this morning?
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the intercom. He blinked, wondering how long he’d been daydreaming.
“Yes?” he asked. Then he knew exactly how long he’d been lost in his thoughts when Janelle said, “Mr. Simmons is here.”
“Thanks,” he said, heroically not groaning in her ear. “Have him come in.”
Brad straightened in his chair and prepared himself for another boring meeting.
Simmons stepped silently into the room and quietly closed the door behind him. He looked around the room.
“Isn’t Ms. Wood going to be here?” he asked, not bothering to hide his dismay at the prospect of dealing with Brad on his own.
Brad could certainly sympathize with Arthur’s obvious discomfort. “She’s been detained for some reason,” he replied briskly. “I’m certain we can manage to struggle through your reports without her.”
Simmons sat in one of the padded chairs in front of Brad’s desk. He placed a stack of folders precisely in front of him and pushed his wire-rimmed eyeglasses to the bridge of his nose, where they promptly slid to their original resting place.
He cleared his throat unhappily. “I was hoping that Ms. Wood would be able to—” he began before Brad interrupted.
“So was I, but she’s not here. So let’s get on with it.”
Simmons flinched and Brad silently cursed. Rachel, he thought, you’d better have a darned good reason for leaving me alone with Arthur. Otherwise I’ll make you pay for this—big time.
Forty-five minutes later, just as Brad’s eyes had begun to roll to the back of his head, his prayers were answered. Rachel opened the door to his office, looking as she always did, impeccably dressed and carrying a briefcase—the epitome of the modern businesswoman.
It was all Brad could do not to throw himself at her feet and beg her never to desert him like this again.
Now that he knew she was safe, he felt the beginnings of irritation seep into his consciousness. Couldn’t she have called? If she hadn’t intended to be here at the usual time, was there any reason why she couldn’t have shown him the courtesy of advising him of that fact?
He met her eyes and realized that whatever had delayed her wasn’t good. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her look so fragile. She had the same stricken look she’d worn when she’d gotten the news that her mother was terminally ill.
What in the world had happened?
Rachel walked to the desk, took the chair next to Arthur and gracefully seated herself.
“I apologize for my tardiness, gentlemen,” she said calmly. “Now then, where are we?” she asked, picking up the stack of papers that Simmons had placed in front of her chair earlier.
By the time the meeting was finally over, Brad’s jaw hurt from clenching his teeth. Rachel walked Simmons to the door, spoke a few—no doubt kind—words to him and smiled at his almost inaudible response.
She closed the door behind him and turned to Brad. “I apologize for coming into work so late and for not calling to let you know.” She walked back to her chair and sat before she continued. “I need to take a leave of absence, Brad. If that’s not convenient for you, I certainly can understand that you might wish to replace me.”
Chapter Two
Brad stared at her in shock…glad he was seated. Otherwise he would have made a fool of himself when his knees gave way at her calm announcement.
Rachel had just verbalized his greatest fear, only he hadn’t known it until now. The constriction in his chest made it difficult for him to breathe. He wondered if he were having a heart attack.
She sat there, waiting for him to say something.
His mind was blank. She intended to take a leave of absence? When he’d had trouble getting through a morning without her?
Then it hit him. She was kidding! “All right,” he said with a grin, “what is this? Are you hitting me up for another raise? If so, consider yourself successful.”
Rachel leaned forward in her chair. “I know this comes as a shock to you, Brad, and I’m sorry if my being away is going to inconvenience you. After seriously considering all of my options, I believe my getting away for a while will be best for all concerned.”
She wasn’t kidding.
He swallowed hard, hanging on to his control so that he didn’t pound the desk and bellow at her. Not that she hadn’t witnessed some of that behavior over the years, but it had never been aimed at her. Desolation swept over him at the idea that Rachel could so casually walk away from the business she had helped to create.
“Do I have any say in your decision or is it already written in stone?” he asked mildly. Only his clenched hands resting on the desk gave away his agitation. If she happened to notice.
Rachel sighed and looked toward the window for a long moment before turning back to him. “I haven’t wanted to bother you with any of this,” she finally said.
“Too late. I’m bothered. Now, what the hell is going on, Rachel?”
She leaned back in her chair and gave him a level stare. “Would it help if I told you it is personal and has nothing to do with the business?”
“I’m glad to hear it. Now tell me what’s going on.”
“You’re going to be difficult about this, aren’t you?” she asked, frowning.
He leaned forward. “You have no idea how difficult I’m going to be if you don’t start explaining—now—what has happened.” He enunciated each word with utmost precision.
Rachel sat up, clasping her hands tightly on the desk. “A few weeks ago I found an anonymous note in my apartment building mailbox. I’d never had anything like that happen to me before.”
“What did it say?”
“I don’t remember exactly. It was signed �Your Secret Admirer.’ The notes didn’t bother me at first—”
“Notes? You received more than one?”
She nodded. “They arrived every week or so and said things like �I’m so glad I know you…I want to spend time with you’…that sort of thing. As time passed the notes became more…more…personal.” She flushed. “They stated how much the writer wanted to hold me, kiss me…and…um…”
Brad could see she was uncomfortable discussing the matter with him.
“I threw the notes away as soon as I found them. I tried to ignore them because I knew there was nothing I could do. The police said the same thing.”
Brad froze. “The police?”
“Yes. That’s where I’ve been this morning…talking with the police.”
Brad didn’t like what he was hearing. She’d been receiving anonymous notes that had caused her to report them to the police and had never mentioned them to him. He wondered why? Did she truly see him as no more than her boss?
“What happened that made you go to the police?”
She bit her bottom lip and he realized she was trembling. “I arrived home late last night and immediately went to bed. This morning I took my shower and dressed as I usually do. When I went to my dresser to pick out a pair of earrings, I noticed there was a folded note lying on top of the dresser. I don’t know how long it had been there.”
Brad almost came out of his chair in outrage but knew he had to hang on to his temper until she told him the details. It took real effort for him to remain calm while he listened to her.
“At first I thought it was from my cleaning lady—she’d been there the day before—but she generally leaves a message by the kitchen phone. When I opened it, I saw it was signed �Your Secret Admirer.’”
Rachel had been looking at her hands during her recital. Now she looked up at him. She looked terrified. She struggled to sound calm as she said, “Whoever this is was inside my apartment either yesterday or last night. I immediately called my cleaning lady, but she said she hadn’t seen anyone. As I told the police, whoever wrote it could have placed it there while I was asleep for all I know.” She covered her eyes for a moment, then went on. “I panicked when I saw the note. For a moment I even imagined he was still there, lurking in my closet, but then I remembered I would have seen him when I got dressed. All I knew was I had to get out of the apartment. So I went to the police.”
Brad went back to her earlier statement. “They told you there is nothing they can do?”
“Basically. After waiting for over an hour to speak to someone, I told the man on duty what happened. He listened, asked questions and typed up the report. I gave him the note I’d found, the only one I’d kept. He asked if I’d recently broken up with a boyfriend who might have a key to my place! I was upset by the suggestion. I told him no, of course. He said that even though the note suggested someone had unlawfully entered my apartment, they didn’t have the manpower to check out this kind of complaint. He suggested I might want to leave town for a while.”
“This is why you intend to take a leave of absence?”
She nodded. “I don’t think I can sleep there again, knowing that someone can get into the apartment without my knowledge. I thought I’d take some time off and decide what to do. It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed working here, but until I’ve come up with some kind of resolution for this matter, I don’t think I’d be much use to the company.”
Now it was Brad’s turn to panic. There was no way he was going to let her walk out of here and go who knows where. He’d be worried sick about her. What if the guy followed her? She still wouldn’t be safe.
Thinking furiously, Brad said, “I can certainly understand your concerns, Rachel,” he began. “I believe if we sit down together and assess what has happened, we can—” The intercom interrupted him.
Not bothering to hide his irritation at the interruption, he punched the button and growled, “Yes?”
“Sorry to interrupt,” were Janelle’s first words. “Carl is on line three and says he needs to talk to you now. What would you like me to tell him?”
“I’ll take it,” he said with resignation. Business continued despite the bombshell Rachel had dropped on him.
Hitting the button for the speakerphone, he said, “Hey, buddy, how’s it going?”
“I’m ready to turn in my resignation on this one, Brad. I’ve just about had it!”
Brad glanced at Rachel. “There seems to be a lot of that going around these days. What’s up?”
“Thomas Crossland’s wife turned up at the site two weeks ago and has taken responsibility for overseeing the construction of their home. She’s made it clear that she is not pleased with what’s being done. Today she informed me that she wanted an immediate meeting with you—on-site, mind you—for a full explanation of why we continue to ignore her many suggestions to improve her home.”
“Where’s Tom?”
“Who knows? Hell, he’s probably gone into hiding until the house is finished. Look, I know how much you wanted the opportunity to expand our market, but I’m telling you right now, if we manage to get through this project without being sued or losing our shirts over her costly proposed changes, I’ll consider us way ahead of the game.”
Carl had been with him since the beginning, and Brad learned a long time ago to listen to him. If he said the situation was serious, Brad believed him. Hearing the testiness in Carl’s voice, Brad deliberately used a light tone when he replied, “That bad, huh?”
“Worse,” Carl snapped back. “When can you get here?”
Brad hadn’t taken his eyes off Rachel during the conversation. His brain kicked into high gear. Maybe this could be used to his advantage. He did not want to lose Rachel, even for a few days, much less weeks or months.
He mentally reviewed his schedule and realized that nothing had gone according to plan since he had arrived that morning to discover Rachel was missing. He scanned his appointment book, then answered Carl.
“I should be able to be in Asheville by five or thereabout.”
Carl gave a sigh of relief. “Great. I’ll be there to meet you. We’re about forty miles from Asheville. I can fill you in on the particulars on our way back.”
“Sounds good to me. Oh, and Carl?”
“Yeah?” Carl sounded much better already.
“Take the rest of the day off…boss’s orders.”
Carl’s rumbling laugh filled the room, causing Rachel to smile. “You don’t have to say that twice. See ya around five,” he replied and hung up.
Brad broke the connection, then hit the speed dial. When a voice answered, he asked, “Steve, how soon can you have the plane ready?”
Without hesitation, Steve Parsons, the pilot of the company’s jet, replied, “Within the hour. Where are we going?”
“Asheville, North Carolina. Rachel and I will grab a quick bite to eat and see you at the hangar.” He hung up without looking at her and waited.
He didn’t have to wait long.
“I can’t go to North Carolina with you, Brad! I need to pack to leave town as soon as possible. I thought I made that clear to you.”
Brad smiled and spread his arms in an expansive movement. “Don’t you see? That’s exactly what you’re doing. I think Carl has inadvertently come up with the perfect solution. You can leave town and continue to work.”
Her exasperation with him almost made him laugh. He felt better already. He was buying time until he could think of something else. She’d sprung this on him today, while she had been dealing with it for some time.
“Going to North Carolina is a temporary fix, Brad.” She sounded as though she were attempting to reason with an obstinate child.
He nodded, feeling better the more he thought about his impromptu plan. “Of course it’s temporary, but the trip will give us time to look at other options that don’t include your taking a leave of absence,” he replied, using the same reasoning tone of voice.
“I’ve already gone over the options.” She was beginning to sound downright testy. “This is the best one.”
“How do you know? Maybe I’ll think of something you haven’t considered. What do you have to lose?”
She shook her head. “It’s just postponing the inevitable, Brad, and you know it.”
“Humor me, all right?” He stood and walked around the desk. “Let’s go find something to eat before we head to the airport.”
“I can’t go with you without advance notice. I need some clothes. I—”
“You can buy anything you need there. Let’s go.” He picked up his briefcase, which always carried a fresh shirt, underwear and socks—but he saw no reason to apprise her of that fact—and on impulse grabbed her hand to assist her out of her chair. The unexpected contact startled them both.
From the day he had hired her, Brad had deliberately refrained from physical contact with Rachel. He’d decided that keeping her at a safe distance would be the wisest course of action.
Rachel stood and immediately removed her hand from his. She made it obvious that she was not pleased with his solution. “This isn’t a good idea, you know,” she argued valiantly, but she knew him well enough by now to know he wouldn’t give in.
“On the contrary,” he replied with a grin. “I’m convinced I’ve come up with a brilliant piece of strategy. C’mon, let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”
She followed him through his office door, no doubt continuing to marshal her arguments, he thought.
He stopped at his secretary’s desk. “Janelle, cancel any appointments Rachel and I have for the rest of the week.” He looked at his watch and grimaced. “Rich is no doubt somewhere having lunch.”
Richard Harmon had taken on the onerous task of office manager five years ago. He had excellent skills for keeping the place running smoothly. Since Brad and Rachel were seldom gone at the same time, Brad had never had to rely on Rich’s ability to take over the reins of the company. This might be an excellent opportunity to see how well he handled the responsibility.
“Please send a memo to Rich and tell him we’ll both be out of town for the next few days and that he’s in charge. If he needs to contact me, I’ll have my cell phone with me. Be sure to give him that number. If anything comes up that he doesn’t feel qualified to handle, tell him I want him to contact me immediately.” Janelle wrote the instructions down, keeping up with him with seeming ease.
Janelle Andrews had come to work for the company five years ago as well. In her late forties, Janelle was a human dynamo, keeping up with the paperwork for both of them without showing stress or strain. Brad appreciated the fact that Janelle did not gossip, kept her work confidential and had a pleasant disposition. He knew he’d been fortunate to gather together such a solid, dependable staff.
Janelle quickly scanned the appointment book, reminding him of what appointments were being canceled. He suggested that she reschedule all of them for early next week. “Explain that an emergency called me out of town,” he concluded.
She smiled and said, “Have a safe trip,” including both of them in the statement.
Brad turned, and he and Rachel followed the hallway into the large reception area. Melinda, the young receptionist, smiled at them. Brad nodded and walked toward the company’s entrance—double glass doors bearing the inscription Phillips Construction Company.
Brad mentally ran through what Rachel had told him—while they waited for the elevator, rode down to the basement parking garage and walked to his sleek sports car.
There were times when Rachel irritated him with her insistence on being so blasted self-sufficient. On the other hand, that’s what made her such a great assistant.
Rachel broke the silence between them when they reached his car. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” she said, sounding almost reconciled to the trip, which made her continued resistance to his plan easier on him. She glanced at him while he held the door open on the passenger’s side. She slid into the low car with more grace than most women he knew, but then Rachel had always had an air of refinement about her.
Over the years she’d worked for him, she had managed to polish some of his rough edges without making him feel boorish or embarrassed by his lack of sophistication.
He felt justified in offering his help now, despite her protests.
Brad slid behind the steering wheel, closed the car door and started the engine, which began to purr like a well-fed cat. He smiled. Before owning this particular vehicle, Brad had bought only trucks for his own use. They were by far the most practical transportation for business purposes.
For years after he knew he could afford to drive anything he wished, he continued to drive a pickup truck…until he’d seen this baby sitting in a show window three months ago. Practicality took a back seat to the sleek lines and high performance of the Porsche. He’d never had buyer’s remorse; he doubted very much that he ever would.
The car was a visible sign that he’d met his goals and become successful. His success meant he had overcome his early life. His past no longer had the power to cause him pain, because he had proven to himself that he wasn’t a loser. His new Porsche reminded him that he was a winner every time he saw it.
Rachel forced herself to lean back in the aircraft seat. She closed her eyes, already dreading the petrifying moment when the jet actually left Mother Earth and threw itself recklessly into the air, defying the law of gravity.
She did not like to fly. To be more precise, she absolutely detested flying and generally managed to avoid it, but there was no arguing with Brad.
Not that Brad had any idea of her strong aversion to flying. She’d been careful never to mention the matter to him. After all, there had never been a reason to call his attention to her weakness. Sometime during the years she had worked for him, Brad must have decided that she was a direct descendant of Wonder Woman—he thought that no matter what he asked of her, she could do it with ease.
Boy, was he wrong. For whatever reason—and she had no doubt an analyst would have a field day with this one—she had worked diligently to keep Brad’s illusions about her intact.
Until now. All she wanted to do at the moment was curl up somewhere and sleep for the next year or so. After what had happened last night, though, she no longer felt safe in her apartment.
Rachel gripped the arms of her seat as the plane barreled down the runway and leaped skyward. She prayed fervently that she wouldn’t embarrass herself by becoming hysterical and sobbing all the way to North Carolina.
Even with her eyes closed, she knew when Brad unfastened his safety belt and left the seat beside her. The company jet contained a fully equipped office. Wherever Brad went, he kept up with everything that happened in his company.
She kept her eyes closed in order to better concentrate on the sounds of the plane. Perhaps if she remained alert, she could warn Steve if a wing fell off or something.
She hoped Brad would be able to deal satisfactorily with Mrs. Crossland. He’d been so excited when Thomas Crossland asked him to build his vacation home in the mountains.
There was no reason for Carl to worry. Brad had an excellent track record for convincing a person that Brad’s way was the best way. Her being there on the plane with him certainly proved his powers of persuasion. He’d used them successfully on other occasions.
He’d convinced her years ago that helping him build his dream company would not only bring her wealth but also tremendous satisfaction.
What normal, red-blooded woman wouldn’t have fallen in love with him?
Of course she’d never, by look or deed, revealed her feelings to him. Not only would that have sabotaged her career, but it would also have sent Brad Phillips running for the nearest exit.
She almost smiled at that thought but, if Brad happened to notice that she wasn’t asleep, he’d want to continue to discuss her plan to take some time off. She wasn’t ready to go another round with him on that subject.
Rachel seldom discussed her private life with Brad. One of the ways she avoided personal topics was to turn his casual questions around to find out about his social life. Over the years he’d been surprisingly forthcoming about who he was seeing and who he had stopped seeing. Rachel wasn’t sure which was worse, imagining Brad with various women or actually hearing about them.
She’d formed a clear picture of his modus operandi in the romance department. There wasn’t an ounce of romance in the man, which was really a shame because he was the type of male that women fantasized about while gnawing on a knuckle and whimpering.
Working construction had honed his tall, rangy body into solid muscle and sinew. Along the way he’d acquired what appeared to be a permanent tan as a result of years spent working in the sun. She wasn’t sure how he managed to keep his trim good looks now that he spent a large part of his time indoors, but there was no doubt a hard body lurked beneath his custom-made suits.
As one of her friends so succinctly put it, if she hadn’t fallen in love with the man after working closely with him for years, someone would have needed to check her pulse to be certain she was alive.
He had no trouble attracting the attention of women, married or single, but the man appeared uninterested in their admiration. She couldn’t say he was classically handsome…his face showed too much strength for that. How he remained unaware of his ability to charm any woman he wanted into his bed was beyond her. Having known other men who used that particular skill to seduce women who could put them in touch with business contacts, she knew that Brad was an exceptional man. He never used his sensual appeal as a manipulative tool.
Rachel knew that he sometimes dated daughters of leading businessmen in Dallas, not because he ever mentioned them, but because he was frequently seen in photographs prominently displayed on the society pages of the daily newspaper. She knew when he’d stopped seeing one of them by the stack of phone messages he received, pleading with him to call.
She recalled one night about a year after she had gone to work for him. They had worked late at the office. As usual Brad had offered to feed her. Once they had eaten and he was in a relaxed mood, he surprised her by mentioning a couple of the women he’d been seeing, giving her new insight into his complicated thought processes.
They had been enjoying their after-dinner coffee when in a rare burst of curiosity, she asked, “I noticed that Caroline Windsor has been calling frequently during the past few days. Is there a problem with your relationship?”
He winced, making her wish she could cut off her tongue before it got her into any more trouble. “The problem is that she thinks we have a relationship,” he replied gruffly.
He must have registered her surprise at his comment because he continued in explanation. “You see, Caroline always gets whatever she wants that daddy can buy, which covers a lot of territory, given Carter Windsor the Third’s bank balance. She kept turning up whenever her dad and I met while planning his latest commercial venture, joining us for lunch and suggesting not too subtly that she was available for dinner.”
He sipped on his coffee and Rachel hoped he would continue with this story, because it sounded like a good one. There weren’t too many—all right, if she were being honest—she didn’t know of any man who wouldn’t be flattered by drawing Ms. Windsor’s attention, giving him an opportunity to get in closer touch with the Carter Windsor dynasty.
She kept her gaze on her coffee, not wanting to let him see how his remarks had only whetted her no-doubt morbid curiosity concerning his love life.
“I’m not making excuses in regard to my behavior,” he said after a long pause. “CeCe is attractive, intelligent and never boring. What she can be at times is demanding. She doesn’t like the hours I work because she’s used to having an escort at her beck and call. When I explained that she was free to find someone else since I couldn’t always meet her requirements, she resorted to tears and said things I know she regrets. I realized that if she pictured us as a couple headed toward commitment, I had to step out of her life immediately. So I did.” The firm tone he used indicated that he’d made up his mind. “I’m not sure she believed me.”
“Hence her telephone calls?” Rachel asked with a slight smile.
He shrugged. “I guess. She discovered that I don’t play games when she hoped to punish me by not being available when I found time to call. I suppose she wanted to make me jealous.” His smile was rueful. “That doesn’t work with me.”
“So you aren’t looking for a long-term commitment, I take it?” she asked very casually.
“I already have one,” he replied, settling comfortably back into the plush banquette.
Rachel hoped she’d covered her startled reaction. She couldn’t think of anyone who had been in his life for more than a few months since he’d hired her. “I see,” she said. “Have I met her?”
He grinned. “It’s not a her. It’s this business, Rachel. I thought you of all people would understand that.”
“Ah,” she replied, feeling a strong sense of relief that he hadn’t been referring to another woman, which was stupid of her. What difference could it make to her?
“I learned a long time ago,” he continued, “that relationships never work out in the long run. Besides, they take too much time and energy. Most women I know are looking for a husband and a father for their future children. Since I’m not going to be either of those things, I rarely stay with one woman for more than a few months.”
As the plane winged eastward, Rachel remembered everything he’d said that night. She’d been relieved in a way that she wouldn’t have to witness her boss someday marrying some blushing bride. However, his remarks had also made her wonder why he was so certain he would never marry. She may have been given a glimpse of his fiercely guarded past a few years ago. Janelle had forwarded one of Brad’s calls to her when he was out of town.
“This is Rachel Wood, Mr. Phillips’ assistant. May I help you?”
“Not unless you happen to be sitting on Brad’s lap. I want to speak to my son and I intend to speak to my son. So put him on the line. Now.”
Brad never mentioned his family. She had somehow received the impression that his parents were dead. Obviously she’d been wrong.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Phillips,” she said, her voice warming, “Brad is out of town. He won’t be back until the end of the week. Would you like me to give him a message?”
She heard a distinct growl of displeasure before the man said, “Why don’t you do that? Why don’t you ask him why he never returns my phone calls? Why don’t you ask him why he looked through me as though I didn’t exist when he left some mucky-muck’s posh party at the Marriott Hotel last week? And ask him why he refuses to meet me, completely ignoring all the years I spent raising him?”
More hesitant now, she answered, “Yes, Mr. Phillips, I’ll give him the message.”
“And tell him I expect to hear from him as soon as he returns to town.”
“I will,” she said quietly.
“Oh, and for the record—my name isn’t Phillips. It’s Harold Freeland.” He slammed the phone down, causing her to wince.
She’d carefully recorded everything the man had said in a memo and placed it in the center of Brad’s desk so that he would see it as soon as he returned. The first time she entered Brad’s office after his return she saw the typed message crumpled in his waste-basket.
Neither of them mentioned the phone call or the message she’d relayed to him. She’d never felt it was any of her business to ask questions about his parents and Brad certainly hadn’t volunteered any explanations.
He’d been raised by his father? What had happened to his mother? Did his relationship with his parents have anything to do with his strongly held desire not to marry?
Who knew?
That phone call was the only time she’d been shown a glimpse of his life before she’d gone to work for him. She had a hunch she might understand Brad better if he were willing to discuss his childhood with her, but he never mentioned it.
On the other hand, he’d been wonderfully compassionate when her mother had been diagnosed as terminally ill. He’d told Rachel to stay home with her mother after the surgery that had confirmed the diagnosis, and he’d continued to pay her salary despite her protests. In addition, he’d paid off the medical bills that weren’t covered by her mother’s insurance. Rachel had been heartbroken that she’d been home with her mother for only a few weeks before she succumbed to her illness.
Rachel had been the one to deal with the arrangements, which was only fair. Both her brother and his family and her sister, who was single, lived in California. Rachel was the one who had stayed home with her mother for all those years.
She’d lost her mother four years ago and Rachel still missed her. She’d had a rough time adjusting to the loss. Brad had been more than supportive.
So he had a heart. He just didn’t want the knowledge to get around. The news might ruin his reputation for being a tough, hardheaded businessman.
“Rachel?”
Startled, Rachel sat up, opening her eyes. “Yes?” she said, her voice hoarse.
He grinned. “No, we’re not crashing, so you can relax, if that’s possible.”
She frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Somehow I’ve managed to get the impression during this trip that you’re afraid of flying.”
Wouldn’t you know his powers of observation would zero in on something like that when he was oblivious to so many other things, Rachel thought, irritated. Maybe she could bluff him.
“I don’t know where you got the idea that I’m afraid of flying,” she replied with as much dignity as she could muster.
He raised one of his brows in feigned surprise. “You don’t say,” he drawled, looking amused. “You were clutching the arms of your seat so hard when we took off that you actually left permanent dents where your fingernails dug into the leather.”
She quickly checked the arms to make sure she hadn’t done that very thing when his laughter made her realize she’d given herself away.
“I don’t fly very often,” she admitted, still trying to hang on to her dignity, which appeared to be slipping rapidly away.
“Oh, I’m well aware of that. I’m also aware how close you were to mutiny when we boarded.”
“That’s because there is no good reason for me to be on this trip,” she replied, feeling defensive.
“I can think of several off the top of my head but this isn’t the time to go into them.”
She stared wildly around the cabin and tightly gripped the arms of her seat. “Why?” she demanded.
He gave her that lopsided grin of his—the one that usually melted her heart no matter how aggravated she might be with him—and said, “Captain says we’ll be landing in another thirty minutes or so. Thought you’d want to know.”
She nodded and stood. “Thank you,” she said, gathering her dignity like a cloak around her. “I’ll go and freshen up.” She went back to the rest room and waited until the door closed firmly behind her before she faced herself in the mirror.
Her reflection wasn’t a reassuring sight. Somehow she’d managed to turn a rather bilious color of green. No doubt the altitude contributed to the sickly pallor.
She quickly used the facilities, washed her hands and face, and tried to rub some color—other than green—into her face before she had to return to the cabin.
There were times when Brad caught her off guard with his acute observations of her. Now that she was going to be in his company for most of the next few days, she needed to watch her every word and expression. He didn’t need to see beneath her professional facade any more than he already had.
After patting her face dry, combing her hair and reapplying her lipstick, Rachel returned to her seat. Brad was already seated next to her. As soon as she buckled herself in, he took her right hand firmly in his large left one and said, “Hang on, Rachel, I won’t let anything happen to you.”
She had no idea whether he was referring to her mysterious stalker or to the interminable flight but it really didn’t matter.
He was too late. Something had happened to her over which Brad Phillips had no control. He held her vulnerable heart in his grasp, if he but knew.
Chapter Three
Rachel kept her eyes closed and gratefully clasped Brad’s hand during the landing. She no longer cared if she saved face or not. She’d given herself away on this flight and there was no going back.
Once the plane taxied to a hangar and stopped, Brad said, “You can open your eyes now.” When she opened them Brad was watching her with a revolting grin on his face. “It’s all right, Rachel. We’re safely down and I really need my hand to unbuckle my seat belt.”
She was mortified. She jerked her hand away from his and fumbled to release herself from the seat. He rose and held out his hand to her.
“Ready?” he asked with what she felt was undue amusement dancing in his eyes.
“You think this is funny, don’t you?” she asked, ignoring his hand while she slipped the strap of her purse over her shoulder and stood.
“You have to admit there aren’t many times when I see you less than your competent, professional self. At least let me enjoy it for a few minutes.”
She picked up her briefcase, walked past him and headed to the door that the pilot had opened. “Live it up,” she muttered crossly and gave the pilot a dazzling smile to make certain he knew that she wasn’t disgruntled because of him.
Halfway down the steps, Rachel spotted Carl leaning against a late-model Jeep that she now remembered he’d driven from home. She waved with a sense of relief disproportionate to the moment, she knew, but she didn’t care.
She’d had a rough day. Brad’s ridiculous insistence that he protect her had only added to her stress. At least Carl would be there to lend her emotional support if she needed to distance herself from Brad during this trip.
Carl was in his mid-fifties, with a thick head of blindingly white hair. He was gruff, tough and highly competent. He was also a teddy bear. She’d never forget his beaming face last year when he’d come to the office with photos of his first grandchild, a brand-new little girl. He’d insisted that Chrissie looked exactly like her mother—his daughter—when she was born. All Rachel saw was a red face, squinting eyes and fists clenched as though the infant was ready to take on the world.
Once her feet touched the solid tarmac she gave a huge sigh of relief and headed toward Carl without checking to see if Brad was behind her.
When she reached the Jeep, Carl straightened from his leaning position and gave her a quick hug. “It’s great to see you, Carl,” she said.
He pulled his head back and looked at her. “You look a little green around the gills, honey. What’s the boss been doing to you?” he asked with concern.
Brad spoke from somewhere behind her. “Forcing her to fly, it appears. Can’t imagine how she’s managed to hide that particular fear from me all these years.” The two men shook hands.
While everyone got into the Jeep, Carl said, “I’ll admit I was surprised to hear that you were bringing Rachel. I wondered if you thought you couldn’t face Mrs. Crossland without help.”
Rachel was thankful to be sitting directly behind Brad. She grinned without fear of his spotting her amusement. She glanced to the front and caught Carl’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He winked before returning his gaze to the road.
“Rachel needed to get out of town for a few days,” Brad said casually. “We were discussing the matter when you called. I decided this would be a good way to deal with both situations at the same time.”
Once again Carl’s gaze met hers in the mirror. “What’s been happening while I’ve been away?”
She gave her head a slight shake before saying, “Oh, I was just asking for some time off.” She gave him a smile of reassurance, then blinked in surprise when Carl laughed uproariously as though thinking of some private joke.
“Well, that certainly explains Brad’s panic,” Carl said after a moment. “Rachel, don’t you know the whole company would collapse without you to run interference with the boss for the rest of us?”
Brad turned his head toward Carl, giving Rachel a view of his distinctive profile. If possible, his strong jaw seemed more pronounced when he said, “You don’t seem to have trouble dealing with me without Rachel’s help.” His drawl was more pronounced.
Ah, so Carl’s remark had pushed one of Brad’s buttons.
Carl continued to watch the road as they barreled down the highway. “Well, yeah, but that’s because I can always retire when you decide to fire me.”
Brad snorted. “That’ll be the day. I can see you staying at home playing with that grandbaby of yours all day. You’d be chomping at the bit looking for a little excitement within a week.”
Carl laughed again. “Maybe so. Never can tell until I’ve tried it, though.” Then in a more serious voice, he asked, “You want to hear about Mrs. Crossland’s complaints?”
Brad shook his head. “Not until we get settled in. Is there going to be room for us at the condo you rented?”
Carl nodded. “You bet. There’s three bedrooms, three baths. The place is cantilevered down a rather steep hill overlooking the resort’s golf course, so there’s a master bedroom at the very top, living-dining area and kitchen on the middle level, and the other two bedrooms are on the lowest floor. Every bedroom has a great view. It won’t take me long to move my things out of the top bedroom.”
“Nonsense. Stay where you are. We won’t be here long enough for you to inconvenience yourself. I’m sure the other bedrooms will work out fine.”
Carl risked another glance at the rearview mirror and raised his brows slightly. Rachel smiled and gave a slight nod of reassurance. So, she thought, amused. Carl was looking out for her, was he? Frankly, Rachel didn’t care where she slept. Despite the early hour—the sun was still up—she was more than ready to call it a day and to seek the sweet oblivion of sleep.
“Sounds like you found a great place to stay while you’re here,” Brad said, glancing at the passing rural landscape.
“It’s the nicest thing about the job at the moment. Did you know that the condo overlooks Lake Lure? I’ve been told that a few movies have been filmed in the area.”
Rachel leaned forward. “Really? Which ones?”
“I can think of a couple— Dirty Dancing and Last of the Mohicans. I get the impression the locals are pleased to share that information with the tourists who visit in droves each summer.” After a moment Carl continued. “Too bad I don’t play golf. I would have been out on the course this week just to let off steam. It would have been great to picture Mrs. Crossland’s face on each golf ball every time I swung.”
Brad relaxed against his seat and chuckled. “Why Carl, I’m beginning to think that maybe you don’t like our client’s wife.”
“She’s an interfering, annoying irritant that I could certainly do without. It’s difficult to find skilled construction people out here in the hills. What I don’t need is for Mrs. Crossland to run them off with her withering remarks and snobbish criticisms about the work being done.”
“Has that become a problem?” Brad asked, straightening.
“The best carpenter I have—a local whose cabinet-work would make a grown man cry tears of appreciation—stomped off the job just before I called you today saying he wasn’t going to work another minute if that woman insisted on coming to the site every day. There were others mumbling about following him. That’s when I called you.”
“Okay. I’ll deal with it. Does she know I’m here?”
“Nope. The less I say to the woman, the easier it is for me to control my temper. She has no idea how much forbearance I’ve shown since she arrived.”
The men lapsed into silence when Carl turned off the interstate highway and followed winding two-lane roads that reminded Rachel of an earlier era—a time when people relaxed after a day of work, unaware of the term stress. Maybe Brad had been right to bring her. She might decide to stay in North Carolina for a while when Brad returned to Texas.
She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, feeling herself relax for the first time in several hours.
The sound of Carl’s voice woke her some time later when she heard him say, “Hell, Brad, what have you been doing to her, working her to death?”
Rachel sat up and looked around. They were no longer moving. Instead, the Jeep was parked in a large lot surrounded by condominium units. The view of the surrounding area was spectacular. The distant hills and a brief view of the lake looked like a backdrop to a movie set. No wonder the film industry had decided to use the place.
Brad held out his hand and assisted her from the back seat.
“Wow,” she said reverently. “Why haven’t I ever heard about this place?”
Carl grinned. “It’s the state’s best-kept secret. Everyone who discovers it is loath to have others discover it and move here as well.”
Brad stretched and asked, “Which unit is yours?”
Carl nodded his head to the building directly in front of them. “The first one in that building.” He paused, leaning into the Jeep to look around. “Did you forget your bags on the plane?” he asked, only now aware that all they carried were briefcases.
“Nope,” Brad said, striding toward the condo. “I figured we could pick up whatever we need somewhere around here.”
Carl turned to Rachel. “Is he kidding?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
“Wish he’d said something before we left Asheville. The closest town with a shopping mall is about twenty-five miles away.”
She sighed. “I’m not sure I can make it. I really am exhausted.”
“Not to hurt your feelings or anything, but you do look a little weary.” He watched Brad start up the walkway. “We better let him in before he starts yelling for the key. Come on, maybe I have something you can wear to tide you over till morning.”
If she weren’t so tired, Rachel would have laughed at the idea of six-foot-four-inch, two-hundred-forty-pound Carl helping her out in the clothes department.
“I may take you up on that,” she finally said, walking with him to the door. “A T-shirt would be welcome for me to use tonight.”
She and Carl joined Brad at the front door. Carl opened it and the three of them walked inside. The first thing she saw were two sets of stairways, one leading downward, the other one going up.
Carl led the way upstairs to two rooms that were divided by a large stone fireplace. Each room had large sliding doors at the other end that led onto a railed balcony.
“Not too shabby, Carl,” Brad said after a soft whistle. “I admire your taste.”
“The only reason I took this place was that the house we’re building is no more than ten minutes away. This was the most convenient rental available.”
Rachel looked around with interest. The place was fully furnished, including kitchen supplies. The dark-red carpet looked regal. There was a television set as well as a VCR. All the comforts of home, she thought.
Carl turned and pointed upward. “I sleep up there. The view’s terrific, as you can imagine.”
Brad and Rachel dutifully turned toward the stairway that stretched to yet another floor. They realized that the bedroom on the top floor was the size of the combined rooms where they stood, except for a small landing at the top of the stairs.
“There’s a smaller balcony up there, as well,” Carl said.
Rachel went back down the steps to the lowest floor. There was a closed door on each side of the hallway. She opened one and peeked in. She saw a bedroom with the same view of the hills and lake. She turned and opened the other door, which revealed an identical bedroom.
She had no idea which room Brad might want, but decided not to worry about it. She walked into the one to the left and closed the door, leaning against it with a sense of relief.
She shook her head and pushed herself away from the door. With her purse still hanging from her shoulder, Rachel walked into the large bathroom, which had a shower separate from the Jacuzzi-type tub.
She placed her purse on the counter and emptied it. She had the toiletry bag that contained a toothbrush and paste she’d purchased at the airport before Brad hauled her away from the public area to where the company plane awaited.
Thank goodness she carried moisturizing cream, a small brush and comb and a few items of makeup in her purse. They would get her through the next few hours.
Her suit looked tired, she thought, staring into the mirror ruefully. It wouldn’t have taken her more than a few minutes to gather a few things if Brad hadn’t been in such a hurry.
He didn’t have a problem. Once on the plane he’d mentioned the items of clothing he kept in his briefcase. He could be so infuriating at times. What could he be thinking to drag her to North Carolina? She had no reason to go to the site or sit in on meetings Brad might have with the clients.
Oh, well, none of that mattered now. She was here. She might as well make the best of it.
Rachel systematically removed and folded each item of apparel before she turned on the stinging spray in the shower. After she adjusted the temperature, she pulled the pins from her hair, and then stepped into the shower.
She couldn’t remember enjoying anything quite this much, she thought, as she allowed the water to flow over her head and body. The rental management had provided bath and face soap, as well as small bottles of shampoo and conditioner.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/annette-broadrick/but-not-for-me/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
Если текст книги отсутствует, перейдите по ссылке
Возможные причины отсутствия книги:
1. Книга снята с продаж по просьбе правообладателя
2. Книга ещё не поступила в продажу и пока недоступна для чтения