Brandon straightened and smoothed the lapels on his jacket.
“Yes, well, after the new year rolls in,” he said, “things will calm down around here. In the meantime...” He shrugged.
“In the meantime,” Prudence said, “you might miss seeing the butterflies dancing, dear.” She paused. “Well, shall we go upstairs, Charity?”
“Ready for some gin rummy, Brandon?” Charity said. “Penny a point.”
“No, thanks. Not tonight,” he said. “It’s been a rather...hectic day. I’m looking forward to putting my feet up and relaxing.”
“All right, dear,” Prudence said. “We’ll see you in the morning. Come along, Charity.”
As Brandon watched the aunts cross the lobby and disappear into the elevator, he shook his head.
That conversation had been ridiculous from start to finish. Butterflies dancing when love was in bloom? Cripe.
What was next? Aunt Pru and Aunt Charity would announce that there really was a Santa Claus and Brandon should leave cookies and milk out for the fat guy in the red suit on Christmas Eve?
Oh, well, he loved Aunt Pru and Aunt Charity, even if they were nonsensical on occasion.
Brandon’s attention was caught by the sound of music from the far side of the lobby. He exchanged a smile with the man now sitting at the baby grand in the glow of the tall, twinkling Christmas tree.
There you go, butterflies, Brandon thought. If they got wind that love was in bloom at Hamilton House, the hotel would even provide the music for their dance.
“Ridiculous,” Brandon muttered.
In the next moment he squinted and swept his gaze over the entire lobby.
Oh, that cooks it, he thought. For a second there, he’d actually been making certain there weren’t any butterflies.
He’d already determined that what he needed was for this unsettling day to end, so he could start fresh tomorrow after a good night’s sleep. That was definitely on his agenda.
Would Andrea sleep well? he wondered. Would she have accepted the fact that she was in Prescott for two weeks, like it or not, and be prepared to enjoy herself?
Hell, what he should be concerned about was whether the new day would restore his sense of control.
And if, at dawn’s light, he would have forgotten... just pushed into a dusty corner of his mind, the exquisite kiss he’d shared with Andrea Cunningham.
Somehow, he thought dismally, he didn’t think a night’s sleep would accomplish that.
Four
The next morning, Andrea sat at a table in the charming dining room of the hotel, consuming a meal of tea, toast and a bowl of fresh fruit.
A map of Prescott was spread before her on the table, along with a brochure listing the stores in town and what they offered for sale.
Andrea took a sip of the hot, delicious tea, then glanced around the large, pretty room, full of people enjoying their breakfast. There was a hum of nearly palpable excitement in the air, and the noise level was high as everyone talked and laughed.
Holiday spirit, Andrea thought, sighing as she replaced the china cup on the saucer. Maybe she would soak some of it up by osmosis, be lifted out of her gloomy mood.
No, she wasn’t exactly down in the dumps. It was more a flat-line feeling, of being neither up nor down, just...there.
She’d slept soundly in the big, comfortable bed and had actually been a bit hungry when she’d awakened. She’d even managed to push the mortifying scene in her room with Brandon Hamilton to the back of her mind, refusing to dwell on it for one second longer.
She’d dressed in dark blue slacks, a bright red sweater and loafers. The Christmassy sweater, however, had not automatically propelled her into a festive frame of mind.
Well, that made sense, she mused. She’d never be . fore been caught up in the hustle and bustle and crackling enthusiasm of the holidays. Why should this year be any different?
It was just that she wasn’t usually surrounded by people at this time of year who were so happy. She felt out of place, like a misfit.
And for some reason, she didn’t like that feeling, not one little bit.
Brandon stepped out of the elevator and crossed the lobby to the registration desk. He checked in with Ryan, the clerk on duty, was told that all was well, then headed for the dining room.
He was going out to play, he decided. He’d been unable to dismiss what Aunt Charity had scolded him about the night before, regarding not having taken a day off since returning to Prescott, and having done nothing to change his nose-to-the-grindstone work routine.
Aunt Charity was right. He’d kept up his grueling schedule at the hotel far longer than was necessary. Heart attacks hit men in laid-back little towns like
Prescott, just as they did in the chaos of New York City. Well, Brandon Hamilton was not going to join that rank and file.
Yes, sir, he was taking the entire day off. He’d leave the hotel and—
Brandon slowed his step and frowned.
And do what? Damn, it had been so long since he’d had any free time, he didn’t have a clue how to fill his idle hours.
He’d accomplished his Christmas shopping in one evening by ordering gifts from catalogs for the aunts, Ben Rizzoli, Jennifer and Joey, Taylor Sinclair, and the staff of Hamilton House. A few envelopes, stamps and hefty checks, and that had been that.
The items had arrived by mail. He’d wrapped each with less-than-expertise technique and then stacked them on a closet shelf in his apartment, awaiting the big day. End of story.
Well, the guests of the hotel managed to keep busy while visiting Prescott, he thought, as he entered the dining room. He’d have some breakfast, then head out to see what he could find to occupy his time.
The problem was, he’d grown up here, and had seen all the unique offerings of the town a thousand times.
The assistant manager of the dining room greeted Brandon with a smile.
“Good morning, Brandon,” the man said. “Nice crowd for breakfast.”
“I can see that, Peter,” Brandon said, matching the man’s smile. “It won’t hurt my feelings one bit if you don’t have a table free for me.”
Brandon swept his gaze over the room, pleased that the hotel’s restaurant was once again proving to be a popular place to eat. His heart did a funny little twostep when he saw Andrea peering at a map where she sat at one of the tables. His smile faded.
There was Andrea Cunningham. in the light of the new day.
The punch of sudden heat low in his body was definitely informing his brain that getting a good night’s sleep had not diminished Ms. Cunningham’s sensual impact on him one iota. Damn.
“I should have a free table in ten or fifteen minutes,” Peter said, “If the folks don’t linger over coffee.”
“No, I have a plan,” Brandon said, narrowing his gaze.
If he couldn’t beat her, he thought, he’d join her. Yes, sir, that was the ticket. He’d go toe-to-toe with Andrea, and soon realize that she was just another attractive woman, not one to knock him for a loop. It was the circumstances of her arrival that had unsettled him, not the lady herself.
“You’ll eat outside the hotel?” Peter said.
“What? Oh, no, I’ll have breakfast here.” Brandon grabbed one of the menus from the stack on the top of the podium that held the reservation book. “I’ll be dining with one of our guests. Send a waitress over to the table, would you, please?”
“Sure thing.”
Brandon made his way across the room, smiling and nodding at guests as he passed them, his resolve growing firmer with each step.
“Hello, Andrea,” he said, stopping next to her chair. “Do you mind if I join you?”
Andrea’s head snapped up and she stared at Brandon.
In a royal blue sweater and jeans, Brandon was just as devastatingly gorgeous as he’d been in a custom-tailored suit. She’d be out of her mind to allow him to join her at that table.
“Um...” she said.
�
�Thank you. You’re most kind.” Brandon pulled out the chair next to her, sat down and flipped open the menu. He gave it his full attention, even though he knew every item that was on it. “Hmm. What shall I have for breakfast this morning?”
Andrea looked sensational in red, he thought. That sweater made her lovely skin glow and those incredible big eyes seem even darker. She appeared somewhat rested, the smudges beneath her eyes not so prominent. Her hair was shining, and had swung like a silken curtain around her face when she’d raised her head.
It was a good thing he knew this menu by heart, he thought dryly, because he wasn’t comprehending one thing he was supposedly reading.
So far, his plan was a dud, but it was early yet.
Brandon placed the menu to one side, crossed his arms on the top of the table and smiled at Andrea.
“Sleep well?” he said.
“Yes, thank you,” she said stiffly. “I didn’t allow anything to clutter my mind, and slept like a baby.”
Score one for Ms. Cunningham, Brandon thought, forcing himself to keep his smile firmly in place. She was letting him know-about as subtly as whacking him on the head with a brick—that she hadn’t given a moment’s thought to the kiss they’d shared.
“I tossed and turned a bit,” he said. “I had an issue of importance to mull over.”
“Oh?” she said, feeling a shiver slither down her back. Was Brandon saying that he’d lost sleep because of her? Because of the kiss they’d shared? Well, fancy that.
“Yep,” he said. “My aunt Charity told me that I needed to take a day off, that I was working just as hard here as I had in New York City.”
“Oh,” Andrea said. No, darn it, that was not disappointment she was registering. It definitely was not. “I see.”
“Aunt Charity was absolutely right,” Brandon went on. “And the situation needs correcting immediately. So, I’m taking the day off, going out to play.” He glanced at the map spread over the table. “It appears that you have big plans. Where are you headed?”
“Nowhere fancy,” Andrea said, switching her gaze to the map. “I need to buy a coat The trick is to figure out where to go, then how to get there without freezing to death.”
Putty in his hands, Brandon thought smugly. Andrea was serving up the perfect opportunity for him to spend much-needed time in her company without having to scramble for an excuse to do so. This was going to be even easier than he ever imagined.
“No problem,” Brandon said. “I’ll take you shopping for a coat, and I‘ll warm up my vehicle before you leave the hotel.”
“Oh, but...” Andrea started, only to be interrupted by a waitress appearing at the table.
“Hi, Brandon,” she said. “Breakfast?”
“Yes, please. I’ll have the Number Three.” He looked at the dishes by Andrea. “You didn’t have much to eat. Would you like some waffles?”
“No, this is plenty for me.”
“Number Three coming right up,” the waitress said, then hurried away.
“You really should eat more, Andrea,” Brandon said. “Ben would tell you the same thing, I’m sure of it. You’ll cure your exhaustion much quicker if you consume more fuel for the furnace, as the saying goes.”
“Thank you, Dr. Hamilton,” she said, frowning at him. “About shopping for my coat. I really don’t ”
“We’ll go as soon as I eat,” he said. “You can relax over another cup of tea while you’re waiting. This is Prescott, you know. Everything moves slower here than what you’re accustomed to down in Phoenix.”
Except for Brandon Hamilton, Andrea thought. He was like a steamroller, running roughshod over her sense of reasoning.
Going shopping with him was a terrible idea. The last thing she needed was to be in close proximity to the man who had caused her to behave so wantonly out of character.
She was going to get up from that table and walk out of the dining room... right now.
But, then again...
She didn’t like the thought of running and hiding from Brandon Hamilton. She met challenges head-on. She came, saw, and conquered.
So, fine. She’d go shopping for a coat with Brandon, and prove to herself that she was once again in total control over her brain and body in regard to this man.
Yes, that was exactly what she would do.
Andrea settled back in her chair, picked up her cup and smiled at Brandon ever so sweetly.
“When in Rome...” she said. “I’ll just sit here and enjoy my tea while you eat your Number Three.”
Brandon nodded, his gaze riveted on Andrea’s face.
What was she up to? he wondered. What did that strange little smile Andrea had suddenly produced mean? What was going on in that beautiful head of hers?
No, he definitely was not going to live long enough to reach a point where he understood women.
Brandon’s Number Three proved to be an enormous plate-size waffle topped with a mound of whipped butter, with a little china pitcher of maple syrup on the side.
Andrea laughed when she saw the gigantic waffle.
“Is your friend Ben joining us?” she said. “I’m assuming someone is going to help you eat that incredible thing.”
“Nope,” Brandon said, smiling. “It’s all mine, and I intend to enjoy every bite.”
“Go for it.” Andrea frowned slightly. “Don’t you worry about calories, cholesterol, sugar rushes?”
“As much as the next person does, I suppose,” Brandon said, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. He spread the butter over the waffle, then dribbled on the syrup. “I have a complete physical every year, and I’m in good shape. I’d never had a health problem until—” He stopped speaking and took a bite of the gooey offering. “Mmm. This is delicious.”
“Until?” Andrea prompted.
“You know, you remind me of how I used to operate in New York City, Andrea. I worked sixteenand eighteen-hour days and most weekends, then filled any leftover hours with a fast-track social life.”
“Well, I certainly don’t have a fast-track social life,” she said.
Now that she thought about it, she mused, she had very few social outings at all, except for an occasional invitation to dinner or the theater. When was the last date she’d had? Two months ago? Three? Where had she gone and with whom? She honestly couldn’t remember.
“Okay,” Brandon said, bringing Andrea back to attention. “Forget the fast-track social life. But you do focus nearly entirely on your job.”
“It’s a career, not a job,” she said a tad coolly. “A job is where you go to put in the hours so you can collect a paycheck. A career comprises hopes, dreams, goals. It requires total dedication.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Brandon said, shaking his head. He ate more of the waffle before he spoke again. “Believe me, I used to buy into that theory myself until—” He popped another bite of waffle into his mouth.
“Brandon, you keep dropping the word until into the conversation, then leaving it hanging. Until... what?”
Brandon took a sip of coffee, then met Andrea’s gaze directly.
“Until I had all the warnings of a heart attack waiting to do its number on me. I was very, very fortunate that I got rapped on my thick, stubborn head before the dastardly deed actually happened.”
“You don’t look like a candidate for a heart attack,” Andrea said.
“I know, but I had to reevaluate my life-style, and my priorities. I walked away from that fast-paced existence, and here I am in Prescott, Arizona, where I grew up.”
“I see,” Andrea said quietly.
“I‘ m very grateful to Aunt Charity for nailing me to the wall last night and telling me that I was falling into old patterns.” Brandon chuckled. “Well, I sure don’t have a fast-track social life here, but I was focusing far too much on work. I have no intention of living that way again. Not ever.”
“Good for you,” Andrea said, nodding.
“You’re missing the whole point of this story, Andrea,” he sai
d “You’re a carbon copy of who I used to be. You’ve even had a loud-and-clear warning from your body that you’re headed for major trouble. You’re due—overdue—to take a personal inventory and make some major changes in your life-style.”
“Brandon, you don’t even know me,” Andrea said, her voice rising. “There you sit with your holier-than-thou attitude, lecturing me on how to conduct my life, when you don’t have a clue as to who I am.”
“Don’t I?”
“No,” she said, folding her arms over her breasts. “You certainly don’t.”
“All right, humor me. You go into the office earlier than your staff, and stay later. You work most weekends. You break for lunch only when it includes a business meeting with a client.”
“I—”
“Shh,” Brandon said. “I have the floor. You have a nice apartment, or house, but it’s showroom perfect, with few personal touches, because there has never been time to turn it into a warm, welcoming home.
“When you do steal a few hours for a social outing, your mind wanders and you find yourself thinking about the current project you’re working on. You—”
“That’s enough,” Andrea said, her voice trembling slightly. “Stop it.”
“Did I hit a nerve?” Brandon said, raising his eyebrows.
“That’s none of your business.”
Brandon leaned toward her. “Those were my arms you fainted into yesterday, Andrea. You became my business the moment that happened.”
“I certainly did not. I apologized for my dramatic entrance into your hotel. It’s over. Done. Forgotten. And just for the record, I did not have early warnings of a heart attack. I’m tired, that’s all. And after my two-week sentence-or whatever you want to call it here in Prescott, I’ll be as good as new, full of vim and vigor again.”
“So you can return to Phoenix and take up where you left off?” Brandon said. “For heaven’s sake, Andrea, wake up and smell the coffee. You’re headed toward physical and emotional disaster.”
Andrea planted both hands flat on the table and leaned toward Brandon.
“Why on earth are you getting all in a dither about my life?” she said.
Taming Tall, Dark Brandon Page 5