Her pizza fell to the plate. "I can't believe you said that."
"Why?” He eased back and grinned. “It's true and I meant it as a compliment." He snatched another slice of pizza, wolfing it down in four quick bites.
"Nice color is a compliment. That..." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "That was a...a...you know what that was."
He moved close to her face again and whispered back, "No. What was it?"
She munched through the rest of her pizza. He may be polite, but he was also a flirt. Resting back in her chair, she kept her eyes on his too gorgeous face and sipped her soda.
"I'm just telling you the truth." Placing one arm on the table, he rested his chin in his upturned palm. “I'm sure other men tell you the same thing."
As he watched her intently, she strained to remember how long it’d been since a man had paid her a compliment. Or flirted with her. It had either been way too long or she’d been too busy to notice anyone that tried. She glanced into the family room and saw the girls engrossed in their food and video, not paying any attention to the conversation at the table.
"Of course.” She flipped her plaited hair back over her shoulder before picking up her food again. “All my boyfriends tell me that."
His eyes opened wide. "Do they now?" Lowering his long arms to the table, his hands landed near Allison. She noticed a scrape across the knuckles. Something had rubbed his skin raw. What did he do on his vacation? Evidently not lounge around the beach like she’d thought.
"So what did you and all your boyfriends do this past weekend? Jet to Paris?"
She glanced back to his face, shaking her head. "London. Paris is old news."
"Well I can't compete with that.” Splaying his palms flat on the table with a slap, Brett let out a loud laugh. “I didn’t know elves led such exciting lives.”
“But of course we do,” Allison smirked.
“So what’s up with the Halloween costumes anyway?”
She hesitated for a second, but had figured out he was persistent enough to prod her until she talked. “Four older brothers.”
He nodded his head slightly, waiting for more.
“My parents made them take me out trick or treating when I was five and they were soooo embarrassed. They dressed me up so that no one would know who I was. A pumpkin the first year.”
“A pumpkin?”
“Head to toe. I couldn’t even sit down.” She grinned at the memory. “But it backfired on them. Everyone thought I was adorable.”
“So they left you home the next year?”
“Oh no, they also figured out they got more candy by trotting me out and showing me off, so each year, the costumes got more elaborate and it became a tradition. I took over the costumes for everyone by the time I was nine.”
“And you’re still dressing up?”
“Crazy isn’t it?” She waved a hand through the air. “But it’s the only creative talent I have. No music. No painting. Nothing. And since I was...” How could she explain this without sounding like she was feeling sorry for herself?
“I studied a lot in school and wasn’t athletic and...” She thought she’d just skip the part about not dating much. “I became known for my costumes. Helped with the plays, Halloween of course, and even designed a new outfit for the school mascot.”
“That’s amazing. A successful corporate banker and costume expert all rolled into one.”
“We all have our talents I guess.” She pushed her chair back. “My specialty is gruesome dead people if you ever need help.”
“Dead people.” Brett let out another loud laugh. “I’ll remember that.”
"What's going on?" Kelly asked, running up to the table, Caroline trailing behind her. "Tell us the joke, Mom."
Brett grinned at Allison, those darned dimples capturing her breath. "Well, Mom?"
She jumped up and moved to the kitchen. "No joke girls. We were just...uh..." She dropped her hands into the sink. "Just having fun."
She quickly turned on the water, slipping into mother mode. "Bring me your plates and I'll put them in the dishwasher."
"Clean up your mess, Caroline. We need to be getting home." He moved up behind Allison, leaning down to whisper in her ear. "It was fun, wasn't it?"
His warm breath on her ear sent shivers down her arms to her fingers, shaking the plate right out of her hands. Thank goodness for rubber sink mats.
“We’ll have to do it again soon.”
She refused to turn around.
Squirting more liquid soap into the full sink, the suds floated past her wrists, reaching for her elbows. She wished they could reach her hot face.
When in the world had she last blushed?
CHAPTER FOUR
The memo slipped from Allison’s fingers and lodged between the credenza and the wall. Just as she leaned over the furniture and dropped her arm in the gap, she heard a whistle.
Snapping her head to her left, her arm still dangling, she caught Brett gawking at her legs.
“Well, well. Didn’t expect this,” he said, with a little bit too much delight.
She didn't have to look down to know he was getting quite a view of her scrawny legs. Tugging at her skirt hem with her free hand, she jerked her other arm up, scraping it on the rough furniture backing. “Ouch.”
“Oohh.” He moved in close, gently capturing the hand she shook in the air. “You okay?” Raising it toward his face, he examined her skin, his large fingers gently soothing her scrape.
“It’s fine. Just a scratch.”
He turned her hand over in his and for the first time in her life, her long fingers looked almost delicate against his large palms. She glanced up. She almost looked delicate against his large frame.
“It’s nothing, really.” She dragged her hand away and backed up, hitting the credenza with her butt. "How did you get in here?” She glanced around his shoulder. “Past Susie?"
"She wasn’t out there.” Brett didn’t move, but dropped his gaze, concentrating on her legs. “And I’m glad. I wouldn’t have had the chance of seeing such a sexy sight if she’d warned you I was here." He raised his brows. "If this is something you do everyday, I’ll have to keep dropping by."
Her eyes darted to her office door as she placed a finger to her lips. “Brett, please, I’m sure she’s back now.” And Susie didn’t need any more ammunition. There’d already been too many knowing looks since Brett’s last visit.
Allison pointed to the wall behind her. "I dropped a memo back there and I was trying to get it.”
“Let me help.”
She moved to the side as Brett clutched the corner of the credenza, slid the heavy mahogany piece forward and picked up the paper. “Here you are.” He shoved it back in place with one hand. “See how handy I am to have around?”
“Well, yes...I mean thanks-“ The ringing phone interrupted her rambling and jangled her muddled brain back into focus.
“Better get that. Probably your Mr. Carson trying to run me out of here again,” he said, giving her a quick smile before strolling over to the office window.
She swallowed a smart retort and snatched the phone. "Allison Hill, may I help you?" Her eyes closed, her head drooping as she listened. "I see. Of course I understand. I hope Sandy feels better." Dropping the receiver into the cradle, she sank against the edge of the desk. "Great. Just Great."
Brett turned to face her from the window across the room. "Problem?"
"That was the mother of Kelly's friend." Allison rubbed the sides of her forehead with her index fingers. "Kelly stays there after school, but Barbara's daughter is sick and she can't pick up Kelly or keep her."
She levered her body away from the desk and moved her thumbs to her neck muscles. "Damn it. Why today?"
"Today?" Brett stayed by the window, out of her way, watching her pace frantically around the room.
"My boss is out of town, Susie has school in an hour, and I have a meeting I can't miss."
In one pass by her desk she grabbed her interoffi
ce phone directory. "I’ll just have to reschedule the meeting.” She flipped through the pages. “Dammit. The first time I get left completely in charge and..."
Brett covered her hand with his as she reached for the receiver. "I'll get Kelly. She can stay with Caroline and you can pick her up when you're finished."
"What?" Allison looked dazed. "No. I don't need you to-"
"You do need me to, Allison."
He took her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. “And you didn't ask. I offered. So get ready to be the lady in charge." He squeezed gently then turned away. “I'll take care of Kelly.”
She ran to her office door calling after him. "But, Brett."
He didn’t turn around. She needed him and he was going to help.
Allison started chattering the moment Brett opened the door. "I'm so sorry I'm late. I really tried to get away, but one of our senior vice-presidents just kept talking and --"
"Come in." Brett grabbed her elbow and towed her inside the house. He shut the door with his foot and steered her down the short entry hall.
"What are you doing?" She halted as they entered a compact, galley-style kitchen.
She should not be inside his house.
She’d planned on thanking him at the door, gathering Kelly and rushing home. She still couldn’t believe she’d let him take charge earlier. She always solved her own problems. She was supposed to be in charge and now she was inside his house being tugged past counters jammed with spices and a sink cluttered with onion pieces and garlic.
"I'm bringing you into the house and sitting you down." He settled her into a high back chair at the clean end of an ancient table. Mail was piled on the other corner, empty envelopes next to the scattered contents.
"Red or white?”
Allison traced a surface scratch on the top of the table. Oak. She dropped a finger to the carved legs. The table must be a hundred years old. Did he like antiques or was he one of those lucky yard sale junkies?
“Allison. Red or white?”
“What?” Looking up, a curl fell in her face. "Red or white what?"
Brett was reaching for the handle of the refrigerator. "Do you prefer red or white wine with pasta?"
She tried to cram her hair back into the clips she’d used when the humidity hit its peak earlier in the day, but it popped back out. Giving up, she concentrated on Brett, who was now rooting around the shelves. "What pasta?"
"I fixed pasta for dinner. The girls’ve eaten, but I waited for you.” He shut the door, grabbed a bottle off the counter, “I think red’s best," and poured the California merlot into two basic wine glasses. After handing one to Allison, he stared at her for a second, then gently touched the loose curl. "I like it falling in your face."
Her hair fell out of his fingers and against her cheek as he dropped his hand and backed away.
“Hope you’re hungry. I know I am.”
She sat mutely, watching him dish pasta from a large metal pot into two bowls, one seriously larger than the other.
It wasn’t the touch that left her lightheaded, she convinced herself sagging in the chair, or his words with their double meanings, it was pure exhaustion.
He piled on the red sauce then licked the serving spoon clean before setting it on the stovetop.
She almost jumped up and put the spoon in the sink, but stayed in the chair, too tired and too smart to foist her cleaning obsessions on someone cooking for her. She could survive for one night not being neat. It’s not like she had to live like this.
"I shouldn’t stay for dinner, Brett," she said weakly, knowing she needed to get away from this man. It was too tempting to let him solve her problems, cook her dinner...
"Why not?" He set the plate in front of her, handed her several paper towels and set the rest of the roll on the table. "Your cook have dinner waiting at home?" He sat down across the table and sipped his wine. "Or do you have reservations with one of your boyfriends in Rome tonight?"
His teasing dragged her back to reality. He was a flirt, she was starving and this was just eating. So why not stay? It wouldn’t hurt to have someone spoil her for a few hours and have a fun, too.
She could handle him.
"No Rome tonight, it’s a school night." She stuffed the wad of paper towels in her lap. How messy did he think she was anyway? And the food smelled wonderful. Apparently he’d figured out something to do with the onions and garlic - other than making a mess in the sink and splashing dots on his t-shirt.
She took a mouthful and her stomach thanked her. "It's marvelous. You made this?"
"I did."
“It isn’t from a jar?”
“A jar?” He rolled his eyes. “Never.”
"Is this the extent of your culinary abilities?” she pointed her fork at him, “or are there more recipes hidden in that brain of yours?"
She took another slow bite. This was too good for the ordinary cook. She’d figured him out. “You're a chef. That's what you do for a living, isn't it?"
Brett drew back in surprise. "A chef?"
"No. That's not it." She shook her head and reached for her wine. "You'd be gone at night. Unless...you're looking for a new job here in Tampa and you're just in between jobs since you moved. That’s it."
"We moved here in June, Allison." He wrapped pasta around his fork and managed to make it to his mouth without dripping any sauce. "That's a long time in between jobs, don't you think?"
"I guess.” She narrowed her eyes. “You do work, don’t you?” She waved toward a family room with basic furnishings. Nice, but certainly not designer.
“You don’t live like you’re independently wealthy. Unless...” She scrutinized the family room over his shoulder. “You could be one of those eccentric rich people who hide all their money under their mattress or in the springs of their couch.”
Money could be hidden most anywhere in that room. School bookbags covered the carpet. Newspapers sprawled under videos in a basket and an oversized reclining chair lay pushed back with an open magazine on one arm and television remote on the other. It wasn’t dirty, but the maid he wanted to hire wouldn’t get bored.
"You have quite an imagination for a banker.” Brett topped off their wine glasses. “Of course I guess it helps with your wacky costumes.”
“Don’t change the subject, Brett.”
He rested his elbows on the table. "We rented this until we decide exactly where we want to live."
"Oh. So you're just waiting until the mansion is restored at the beach?" Shoving the last bit of pasta in her mouth, she savored the flavors. She would smell like garlic for a week, but...she licked her lips...it was worth the gallon of mouthwash she’d be using.
"You guessed it. I gave the servants the year off. They'll be joining us next summer."
"Who's joining us next summer, Daddy?" Caroline ran into the kitchen from a hall to the left of the table, Kelly on her heels.
"No one, Caro.” He rested his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Ms. Hill's just teasing me."
"You guys sure do tease each other a lot, don’t you?" Kelly asked.
Allison watched her daughter, trying to read her thoughts. This was mostly new territory for both of them. She and Kelly had been alone so long she couldn’t imagine what Kelly must be thinking. The only men Kelly had seen her with were the few dates that had picked her up at the front door and dropped her off a few hours later, most of them Allison glad to be rid of.
But Brett...
She jumped up, blocking whatever was trying to creep into her head. “And instead of teasing, I should be thanking Mr. Tyler for picking you up, feeding you and now feeding me." She smiled at Brett. "I really do appreciate everything you did. I certainly didn't think I'd be this late when you offered.”
"It happens. Jobs can be demanding."
Like he’d ever been in a hurry or stressed, she thought as Brett stood slowly.
He moved around the table, "It was no problem. We had fun, didn't we girls?" and patted the
m both on the head as he passed.
"Get your books, sweetie. We need to go home." Allison carried her dish to the sink and rinsed it.
"I'll help you, Kelly. We left some stuff in the back." The girls raced out of the room.
"You don't have to do that. You had a long day."
She turned to Brett standing behind her. A faint hint of his cologne floated her way. What was it? Citrus, no woodsy. Oh whatever it was, on him it smelled so... She looked up at his face, growing warm under his intense gaze. "I know. But you cooked and took care of Kelly and..."
He touched her hair gently. "I bet you look very sexy with your hair down."
"It's a mess when I don't pull it back," she said faintly, unable to tear her eyes away from his clear gray gaze, still amazed at how the color darkened as he talked.
"No. I'm sure it's beautiful."
When his eyes scanned her face, stopping on her lips, her breath nearly evaporated. "The girls will be back soon."
"As usual.” He sighed and stepped back slowly. “There's always someone around."
"I'm ready, Mom."
Jumping at her daughter's voice, she realized she’d been standing in a trance, staring and...
"Thank Mr. Tyler and Caroline for their hospitality." Snagging Kelly's hand, Allison rushed her to the front door, not stopping until they were safely outside.
"I'll call you with the next meeting time, Brett,” she called over her shoulder. “Thanks again for everything. See you soon, Caroline." She raced to the car and jumped in.
"Mom, you look funny again."
"What do you mean funny?” Her hand paused on the ignition as she studied herself in the rear view mirror. She didn’t see anything. “When did I look funny before?"
"Every time you talk to Mr. Tyler you get this kind of, I don’t know...” Kelly shrugged and reached for the radio. “Just kind of a strange look on your face."
Allison pulled out of the drive. Oh great, so now she looked strange. Clumsy, tongue-tied and strange. "I'm fine, sweetie. Just tired."
Allison stopped at a light and tried to relax, but couldn’t. The bottom line was, the man turned her on. She hit the accelerator and steered into their neighborhood. She hardly knew him and she wanted to kiss him, touch that jaw, that rugged face. Caress the lines that deepened next to his mouth when he smiled.
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