Brad spoke behind her, causing her to jump in surprise. “You know, all you need with that outfit is a rose between your teeth.”
She turned and looked at him. “Great idea. I’ll see what I can do to find one.” She started toward the doorway that stood open.
Brad took her elbow, causing her to stop walking, and said, “I don’t want you going anywhere without me while we’re here.”
He looked and sounded serious. Something must have happened that she’d missed. “What’s wrong?”
His jaw clenched a couple of times before he said, “If you dressed to call attention to yourself today, you did a bang-up job. There’s not a worker here who’s been able to keep his mind on his work since you arrived. I don’t want to have to fire someone for getting too familiar with you.” He stared at her, his height pronounced because of her flat-heeled shoes. “You barely look eighteen in that outfit. Nobody would believe that you’re a respected business-woman.”
She could think of several scathing comments to make in reply, such as that he was the one who had mentioned the word casual for the clothes they were to buy, and that he was the one who had insisted that she make this trip without giving her a chance to bring appropriate attire.
She thought them but she didn’t say them, which was why she’d remained with him all these years.
“I apologize if my choice of clothes causes you problems. I have other clothes in the Jeep. Where would you like me to change?”
He stepped away from her as though only now aware that he still held her arm. He faced the view from the front door rather than look at her. He stood there and she waited. When he turned back to her, his eyes were dark with an emotion she didn’t recognize.
“There’s no reason for you to change clothes. Look, I’ve been in a lousy mood, but there’s no excuse for my taking it out on you and I’m sorry. You threw me a curve wearing that outfit today, that’s all. I wasn’t prepared for it…which isn’t your problem.” He glanced around at the men busy with various projects and lowered his voice. “However, I meant what I said about the men. We don’t want any trouble here. They might think you’re Carl’s daughter and treat you with respect. We can only hope.”
“I was hoping to look through the house. Do you have time to go with me?”
He smiled, but she knew his heart wasn’t in it. “Sure. I need to familiarize myself with it before Mrs. Crossland arrives, anyway.”
The sound of a power drill broke the tension between them. Without a word Rachel turned back to the house. After stepping over the unfinished threshold and into the hallway, she paused to remove her sunglasses. A curving stairway greeted her as it followed the rounded wall to the second floor.
She could already picture the Austrian crystal chandelier that would hang in the center of the foyer. She couldn’t help but wonder how many months out of the year the Crosslands would make use of their second home.
Workers nodded as she wandered through the downstairs rooms, Brad following somewhere behind her. She’d been unnerved by their exchange. He was upset with her even though he denied it. But why? Because she’d teased him about Mrs. Crossland? He enjoyed a joke as well as anyone, even when it was on him…especially when it was on him. She wondered what invisible line she’d accidentally crossed.
After checking out the large kitchen, she took the back stairs to the second floor. When she reached the top, Rachel looked around to get her bearings and discovered that she stood in a broad hallway. One direction would take her to the front stairs, so she turned the other way. At the end of the hallway was a wide opening that would eventually be closed in with double doors. She stepped over the threshold and saw the layout for the master bedroom.
Now this was living, she decided.
A large skylight was over what she imagined would be the bed area. She walked over toward that wall and turned, enamored once again with the view. The wall opposite would be mostly glass. From there she could see the ground slope downward to a creek in the distance.
Brad hadn’t followed her upstairs. Maybe he felt she was safe enough with him in the house. She had never seen him in such a strange mood and wasn’t certain how to deal with it.
She concentrated on exploring the rest of the master suite, wishing the day were over so their return trip would be closer.
Rachel wandered into an alcove off the master bedroom and realized that there would be his-and-her dressing rooms with connecting walk-in closets.
The bathroom was the best feature yet, she thought, chuckling. There was room enough for a half-dozen people in the mammoth tub. The glass-enclosed shower was equally large. She could imagine the plush carpeting that would cover the floor. Unbelievable.
This house belonged to a couple with no children, which she found sad. The place begged for a family, a large one at that.
When Rachel returned to the main part of the master suite she was startled to see a woman standing in the middle of the room. This must be the famous—or infamous—Mrs. Crossland.
Brad had forgotten to mention last night that the woman was stunningly beautiful, or would be if it weren’t for the disgruntled look on her face.
Rachel smiled at her but was greeted by a look of suspicion.
“You must wonder who I am, exploring your home like this,” she said pleasantly.
“You know who I am?” Katherine asked, continuing to frown.
Rachel nodded. “I presume you’re Mrs. Crossland, aren’t you?”
“Oh! Then you must be Carl’s daughter,” Katherine replied, sounding relieved. “I was looking for Brad and thought he might be up here,” she added. She turned and strolled toward the hallway door only to turn rather abruptly when Rachel chuckled and said, “Uh, no. I’m not kin to Carl at all. However, I—”
Brad’s smooth baritone interrupted her. “Actually, she’s with me,” he said with a lazy drawl, appearing in the doorway. Rachel had never been so glad to see anyone as she was to see him standing there.
Katherine slowly turned to face him. “This must be the woman you mentioned to me last night. You didn’t bother to tell me she’s a mere child.”
Rachel knew better than to respond to her remark. Instead, she looked at Brad and smiled. The ball’s in your court, boss man. You deal with it.
His laugh sounded so sexy it startled her. “Oh, Rachel isn’t as young as she appears—” He walked over to Rachel and dropped his arm around her shoulders. Looking down at her with a heated glance, he added, “Are you, honey?”
Rachel had an almost irresistible urge to leap away from the warmth of his body and his penetrating gaze. He must have felt her tense in preparation for such a move, because he calmly pulled her against his side, nestling her there as though the position was a natural one.
Rachel knew he wanted Katherine to believe they were close but she hadn’t expected him to be quite so cozy with her. She heard a sound at the door and saw Carl standing there, taking in the scene with amusement.
He spoke to Brad, “There, I told you she hadn’t gone far, didn’t I?” before adding to Katherine, “He hates to let Rachel out of his sight, you know. That’s why he insisted she come with him yesterday.”
As soon as she saw the twinkle in Carl’s eyes, Rachel realized that he’d decided to help with their role-playing. He seemed to be enjoying it. In that case, she might as well enjoy it, too. She relaxed against Brad’s side and offered her most benign smile to Katherine, who did not look happy. In fact, she looked as if she might start spitting toads at any moment.
Brad said, “Thank you for meeting us here, Katherine. Why don’t you show me the areas that are causing you concern?”
Rachel straightened slowly as though reluctant to lose contact with Brad. “I’ll wait for you near the Jeep and let you get on with your work,” she said.
Thinking that she’d played her part satisfactorily, Rachel took a step toward the door, only to be caught by the wrist and gently turned back to face him.
“I’ll be
there as soon as I can,” he said in a husky voice, which Rachel thought was overdoing it just a mite, but it was nothing compared to his next move. He placed a gentle kiss on her mouth and rested his other hand on her neck, effectively holding her head in place.
Rachel knew the kiss meant nothing. What was a kiss, anyway? A casual show of affection, that’s all. Had Rachel been in a calmer state of mind she could have accepted it as such. Except his lips lingered a little longer than was strictly necessary and she forgot that he didn’t mean it.
As though freed from the frantic signals from her brain telling her to get out of there and fast, Rachel went up on her toes and returned the kiss, her arms sliding oh-so-naturally around his neck. At long last she’d been given the opportunity to compare the reality of being in his arms to fantasies she’d had over the years.
She savored the moment.
Carl cleared his throat in an obvious attempt to disguise a chuckle, which snapped Rachel out of her fog of indulgence and caused her to stare at Brad, immediately horrified by what she had just done.
His eyes had darkened until they were almost black; their message unmistakable. He clenched his jaw. In a voice too low for the others to hear, he murmured, “I won’t keep you waiting long,” as his hand shifted to the nape of her neck once more where he massaged the tensed muscles and nerves clustered there. “We have several things we need to discuss once we’re alone.”
Chapter Five
Rachel hung on to the temporary railing as she went down the winding staircase, not trusting her knees to support her. What had happened back there? Something alarming, something wondrous, something that changed a long-term business relationship into who knew what.
She paused once she reached the porch and took several deep and, she hoped, calming breaths before she negotiated the steps to the ground. She focused on reaching the Jeep without mishap, determined that any worker who might see her would think that nothing unusual had happened to her—although her personal universe had spun on its axis in the past few minutes and now hung upside down.
Brad Phillips had kissed her. He had behaved totally out of character. She hadn’t been prepared for the kiss or for her strong reaction to it. She didn’t know if she’d be able to face him after grabbing him like a love-starved woman.
Rachel reached the Jeep and sank into the front seat, thankful Brad had parked beneath a shade tree where it was cool, despite the midday heat. She closed her eyes, and fervently prayed to disappear before she had to face him again.
What caused her to tremble was remembering the heated look in Brad’s eyes when she had finally pulled away from him.
Somehow, some way, she knew she had to get a grip on her emotions before he and Carl showed up at the Jeep.
She opened her eyes and consciously squared her shoulders. Face the dilemma, she thought. Treat the matter as a problem to be solved.
First of all, she owed Brad an apology. She ran a few through her head. “I’m sorry to have grabbed and kissed you,” didn’t work. Besides, it wasn’t true. Embarrassed because she’d grabbed him…humiliated because she’d given away her secret feelings for him…those were all true. But sorry? Uh-uh. She’d wondered for too many years what kissing Brad would be like.
Well, she had certainly found out…in front of a client and an employee of the company. “I’m sorry for taking advantage of the situation?” That was closer to the truth. Brad had kissed her to underline the point he was making with Mrs. Crossland. Rachel knew that. He must have decided that actions spoke louder than words. If so, her response had signaled more about how she felt than she’d wanted him to know.
Too bad she wasn’t in Dallas where she could escape to her apartment for a few hours to kick herself around the room until she solved the problem. That wouldn’t work. She had chosen to leave her apartment—temporarily at least—because she no longer felt safe there.
At the moment there was nowhere she could think of where she felt safe. She grieved for her mother’s wise counsel, not for the first time since losing her. She closed her eyes and tried to recall anything her mother might have said about her relationship with Brad.
Words began to form in her mind. As though Jillian Rogers Wood sat beside her in the Jeep, Rachel could hear her say, Rachel, dear, I know you’re attracted to your new employer, but you must remember how dangerous it is to get involved with anyone with whom you work.
You are so right, Mom.
He’s a very charming man, Rachel. He reminds me of your father in so many ways. The tone had been lovingly reminiscent.
The comparison had been apt and Rachel had reminded herself many times over the years that she wouldn’t have had her mother’s courage and strength of mind to make the life-changing choice Jillian made so young. She’d left a comfortable way of life and any contact with her family in order to marry Christopher Wood, the man she loved.
Rachel had vague memories of her father. Their home had been filled with photographs of him. She’d loved to listen to her mother’s stories about him. Although her mother had been sad when she’d discovered the seriousness of her illness, she’d also commented to Rachel that at least she would be with her husband again.
Christopher had been a handsome man and, much like Brad, a self-made man.
When Jillian had first met him, he’d been working summers with a landscape crew to help pay for college. She’d been home that summer from the prestigious eastern university she attended, having finished her junior year in the spring.
Christopher had been three years older than Jillian, but because he’d had to work several months each year to pay for school, he’d only finished five semesters when they met.
Jillian loved to repeat to her children the story of how she and Christopher had met—how she’d spotted him working in her mother’s garden early one summer morning, his bare, deeply tanned chest glistening with perspiration, his lithe, athletic body moving easily and without strain. How she had known that he was the man with whom she wanted to spend the rest of her life before they had spoken. There had been an instant of certainty about who he was and the effect he would have on her life, as though a voice deep inside her had spoken. This is it, Jillian. There is the man who will offer the loving relationship you’ve wanted all your life. Get to know him. You won’t be sorry.
Jillian came from a privileged background. Christopher had never talked about his family. He treated her like spun glass that summer, never touching her, rarely speaking. While he worked she would chatter on about school and her friends and shopping, but she never mentioned to him that she no longer accepted invitations to date.
She couldn’t see anyone else, Jillian explained to her children. Her heart had made its commitment.
A week before she was due to return east, Christopher and Jillian eloped. Jillian had hoped that once her parents adjusted to the idea of her surprise marriage to someone outside their social circle they would forgive her and accept her new husband.
She’d been wrong.
Rachel grew up without knowing either set of grandparents. Her mother brushed aside any questions her children had about them, saying that it didn’t matter. What mattered was the loving family their own parents had produced.
Rachel often wondered how their lives would have been different if her father hadn’t been killed in an offshore oil-drilling accident ten years after his marriage to her mother.
Her father had taken the job because the position paid well and he had three young children to feed. He worked for two weeks straight and came home for an equal amount of time. Rachel could remember her mother’s excitement when he was due home. Those were the memories she loved most.
She had been five when her father died.
The oil company made a generous settlement, but her mother had refused to use it for anything other than her children’s education. She’d insisted that this was one of their father’s goals for each of them because he and Jillian had never completed college.
Her mo
ther struggled to make ends meet, but the children never felt deprived. In addition, they received a comprehensive education from their mother about how to get along in the world, a gift that was invaluable. Rachel watched her mother pick up the threads of their shattered lives and move on, making no effort to contact her family.
Rachel wondered at times if her grandparents had ever learned of her father’s death. In the long run, their absence from the children’s lives really didn’t matter. Jillian provided for their needs, emotionally as well as physically.
As many times as Rachel had listened to her parents’ love story growing up, she’d never believed that she was capable of throwing caution to the wind, defying her family in order to marry a man she’d only known a few weeks.
That is, until, all those years ago, she saw Brad Phillips standing in the doorway of a small café, obviously hot and tired and wearing clothes streaked with dirt and sawdust, coming to interview her for a job. In that blinding moment of revelation, she fully understood Jillian Wood for the first time in her life.
Remember, dear heart, Jillian had said to Rachel those first months she’d worked for Brad. This is your very first position. It is important that you do well. Future employers will go back to this company for references and referrals. It wouldn’t do to become emotionally involved with the man who pays your salary.
It’s too late, Mom, she’d wanted to say. It had been too late by the time he had taken her to his not-yet-finished office and explained that she would be expected to do the jobs of three people, her salary barely adequate for one.
She could have continued to answer help-wanted ads, but the thought never crossed her mind. She would take her mother’s advice and not become romantically involved with Brad, but by accepting the job she would be able to see him every day.
Her goal was to help this dedicated—and lonely—man attain his dream. And she had. She’d long ago accepted that one day she would witness his marriage to one of the women he dated.
But Not for Me Page 8