Brandon covered one of her hands with his and looked into her big, dark eyes.
“I don’t know, Andrea,” he said quietly. “I really don’t know.”
“Then let’s consider the topic closed.”
Andrea attempted to pull her hand free, but Brandon tightened his grip.
“No,” he said. “It’s not a closed subject. I see what you’re doing to yourself, and it upsets me. I...I care about what happens to you, Andrea Cunningham. That doesn’t make any more sense to me than it does to you, but it’s very true.”
Andrea opened her mouth with every intention of informing Mr. Busybody Hamilton that he should quit interfering in matters that were none of his concern.
But she couldn’t speak as sudden, unexpected, and very unwelcome tears closed her throat, making it impossible to say one word.
She was about to cry, Andrea thought incredulously, snapping her mouth closed. This was ridiculous. What on earth was the matter with her?
There was just...something about the way Brandon had said he cared about what happened to her that had caused a strange warmth to encircle her heart, threatening to push her over an emotional edge.
How long had it been since someone, anyone, had cared about her well-being? Years? Decades? Oh, what difference did it make? Brandon was meddling in her life and she resented his intrusion of her privacy.
But, oh, dear, Andrea thought, now he was looking at her so intently with those mesmerizing dark eyes of his, the concern, the caring, radiating so clearly, she felt as though she could reach out and touch it, wrap it around her like a warm, comforting blanket.
What was this man doing to her?
Nothing, nothing at all, she decided frantically. She was once again a victim of the fatigue and the vulnerability that exhaustion was causing.
Get a grip, Andrea Cunningham, she ordered herself. Righr now.
“Andrea?” Brandon said quietly.
Averting her eyes from his, she cleared her throat. “The chamber of commerce would be proud of you, Brandon. You’re a fine example of Prescott’s friendly people, or whatever the town slogan is along those lines.” She lifted her chin and looked at him again. “May I have my hand back please?”
A flash of anger crossed Brandon’s face and shone in his eyes. He released Andrea’s hand, then sank back in his chair and sighed, the sound having a def inite echo of exasperation.
“Hello, darlings,” Aunt Charity said, swooping down on the pair.
She was wearing a vibrant, purple satin dress with yards of material in the skirt.
“May I sit a moment?” she said, then proceeded to settle onto one of the empty chairs at the table. “How are you both this morning? Fine? Good. Are you going out? Of course, you are, or Brandon wouldn’t be without his high-falutin‘ suit. So! You can do me a favor, if you’d be so kind. Thank you.”
“Hello, Aunt Charity,” Brandon said, chuckling despite his now-less-than-cheery frame of mind. “What kind of favor?”
“Well, since you’ve obviously taken my sterling advice and are not working today, big boy, you can pick up the music box that I ordered for Pru for Christmas. Here’s the paid receipt.” She smacked the piece of paper onto the table. “This will keep me from freezing my tutu off outside.”
“No problem,” Brandon said, picking up the paper. “We’re on a mission to buy Andrea a coat. We can get the music box while we’re out.”
“Yep. Have fun.” Charity got to her feet. “Don’t hurry back. Goodbye.”
“It was nice to see you, Aunt...” Andrea started, but Charity had already bustled away. “Goodness.”
“I hope I have that much energy when I’m her age,” Brandon said.
“I’d like to have that much energy right at this moment.” Andrea looked at Brandon quickly. “Forget I said that. We’re not starting over on the subject of my physical condition. I’m not stupid, Brandon. I know I’m tired, but I’m here in Prescott, doing something about it.
“Advertising is a demanding career, but I love it. A little downtime is not too much of a price to pay for the respect I’ve garnered in my chosen field.”
“Nice speech,” Brandon said, glaring at her. “Does seeing a billboard boasting your work keep you warm on cold winter nights?”
“We don’t have cold winter nights in Phoenix, remember ? It’s very hot down in the valley.”
“Lord,” Brandon said, tossing his napkin onto the table. “You’re a tough case, do you know that? You refuse to give an inch.”
“I didn’t get to where I am in my career by giving inches, Mr. Hamilton.”
“Ta-ta,” Prudence said, seeming to materialize out of nowhere.
“We’re having a convention right here at this table,” Andrea said under her breath.
Prudence’s dress of the day was a moss-green wool with a high neck and long sleeves. She sat down in the chair that Charity had vacated.
“I just encountered Charity in the lobby,” Prudence said, “and she informed me that you two are going shopping for a coat for Andrea. Might I prevail upon your kindness to retrieve my Christmas gift for Charity that has arrived and is waiting to be claimed?”
“Sure,” Brandon said.
“Thank you, dear,” Prudence said, handing him a yellow piece of paper. “It’s a music box that had to be ordered. I’ve already reimbursed the shop owner. for it.”
“We’ll deliver it to your door.” Brandon tucked the receipt in the pocket where he’d placed Charity’s.
“Thank you so much, dear;” Aunt Pru said. “Now, Andrea, dear, do be certain that you purchase a warm enough coat, You mustn’t catch a chill while you’re with us. Don’t rush about when you’re outside, either. Do conserve your energy and strength. Brandon, see to it that you share a hearty lunch with Andrea during your outing.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Brandon said, smiling.
“We’ll be back long before lunch, Aunt Pru,” Andrea said.
“Oh, my, I hope not. Brandon needs time away from this hotel. We do worry that he’s working much too hard. Please don’t hurry to return. You two are so good for each other. You both need to relax and enjoy yourselves. I must dash. Ta-ta.”
Aunt Pru was up and gone before Andrea could echo the ta-ta.
“Well, we have our assignments,” Brandon said, pushing back his chair. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes, I guess so.”
“Interesting thought, isn’t it?” he said.
“What is?”
“That statement that Aunt Pru just made.” Brandon got to his feet and looked down at Andrea. “She said that we are good for each other. Yes, indeed, that’s a very interesting thought.”
Andrea chose not to comment as she rose to stand next to Brandon.
Interesting thought? her mind repeated.
No, she quickly corrected, it was a ridiculous thought. She and Brandon weren’t good for each other. They did nothing but argue, and would do well not to murder each other while on their shopping trip.
Despite the aunties urging them not to hurry back to the hotel, Andrea was giving this outing two hours maximum.
Then she’d spend the remainder of the day in her room, reading a novel.
Alone.
Five
A little over an hour later Andrea emerged from a store wearing her new purchases, a puffy, bright red jacket, and a red and navy-blue wool hat with matching gloves.
“I look like an overripe tomato,” she said, unable to curb a bubble of laughter.
“You do not,” Brandon said. “You’re insulting my taste. If I’d left it up to you, you would have gotten the boring beige one, or the gray, or the black. You’re extremely festive in that ensemble. Besides, it was all very democratic, you know. The selection of the coat, hat and gloves was put to a vote.”
“Right,” Andrea said dryly. “And the woman who owns the store and had one of the votes just happens to be someone you went to high school with. The ballot box was a tad stuffed, Mr. Ham
ilton.”
Brandon shrugged. “Whatever works. The fact remains that you can’t get into the holiday spirit wearing a drab jacket, Ms. Cunningham.”
“Oh? Your coat is tan.”
Brandon glanced down at his suede jacket lined with white sheepskin.
“Please, madam, bite your tongue. Don’t you realize that this is a creation that literally hollers machismo ? Only the mean and lean—a man’s man—wear these coats. I look like a cowboy out of the Old West.”
“Okay, okay,” she said, raising both gloved hands. “I surrender.”
“You do?” he said, grinning at her. “Terrific. Then you won’t argue about the next event on our agenda.”
“Picking up the music boxes for Aunt Pru and Aunt Charity? No problem.”
“That’s not next.” Brandon grabbed one of her hands. “Come on. If we hurry, we can make the light to cross the street.”
“But...”
Andrea stopped speaking as she hurried to keep up with Brandon’s long-legged stride.
This was so crazy, she thought. She now owned a jacket, hat and gloves that were as out of character for her as her dumb car.
The scene in the store had been silly and... well, yes, fun. She couldn’t remember when she’d laughed so much, felt so young and carefree.
Brandon and the owner of the store had ganged up on her, shouting their disapproval at her selections of somber-colored coats. She’d finally thrown up her hands in defeat and allowed the merry pair to deck her out like a radish.
If she didn’t start behaving like the Andrea Cunningham she knew, there was no telling what she might do during her two-week stay in Prescott.
Andrea glanced up quickly at Brandon as he continued to urge her forward.
That was a sobering thought, she mused. She seemed to be falling more and more under the spell of this compelling, incredibly handsome, charming man.
Why wasn’t she demanding that Brandon stop this nonsense, go directly to the store where the music boxes were waiting to be retrieved, then return her to the hotel?
Good question, she thought. So what was the answer ? There she was, being dragged to heaven only knew where to do heaven only knew what, without a peep of protest. Why? She really didn’t know.
After they’d crossed the street, Brandon left the sidewalk and tromped right into ankle-deep snow.
“What are you doing?” Andrea said. “This is snow.”
“Very good,” he said, chuckling. “You may go to the head of the class. You are now standing on what is known as the town square, or the plaza. That majestic building there is the county courthouse. Do note the gazebo to your right that has been decorated to look like Santa’s workshop. Cute, huh?”
“Yes, yes, it is,” Andrea said, sweeping her gaze over the area. “The trees look like something out of a Christmas fairy-tale book the way they’re covered in snow. It’s very pretty.” She paused. “Did we have to stand in the snow to appreciate the view?”
“Yep, because we’re going to build a snowman.”
“What?”
“Have you ever built a snowman, Andrea?”
“No.”
“Then it’s my duty as a resident of Prescott to rectify that sorry situation.”
Brandon stopped speaking for a moment as he looked around.
“My parents are no longer living, but when I was a kid,” he said quietly, “my dad and I had a tradition. When the first big snow of the season fell, he’d bundle me up, bring me down here and we’d build a snowman on the square. My mom would have hot chocolate with marshmallows—lots of marshmallows—waiting for us when we got home.”
“That’s a lovely memory,” Andrea said softly. “An enviable one.”
Brandon nodded, then looked directly into her eyes. “Let’s make a memory, Andrea. Together. We’ll build a dynamite snowman.”
Andrea opened her mouth to retort with an emphatic no, to tell Brandon that her feet were already cold, that she was an adult, not some child who was about to frolic in the snow, for mercy’s sake. No, absolutely not.
Let’s make a memory, Andrea. Together.
But she didn’t speak as Brandon’s quietly spoken words hummed in her mind, then encircled her heart with a warmth that caused her to totally forget the chilled condition of her toes.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Let’s make a...” A memory. A memory like none she had in the nearly empty treasure chest in her heart. A special memory. With Brandon. “A wonderful snowman.”
And so they did.
And it was fun.
They were soon joined by several children, who helped roll the huge balls of snow, then lifted them into place. Everyone was slipping and sliding, falling into the wet snow, then staggering to their feet once again.
Andrea was laughing so hard that she knew she was in danger of getting the hiccups. But, oh, what fun she was having. She was helping to build an honest-to-goodness Frosty the Snowman for the first time, and the enchanting adventure was fabulous.
“All right,” Brandon shouted, punching a fist into the air. “The head is on. It’s lookin‘ great, team.”
“I’m coming, Brandon,” a woman called. “I just don’t move as fast as I did in the old days.”
The group turned to see a plump woman in her sixties hurrying toward them. She was wearing men’s floppy galoshes, and she was clutching a heavy sweater closed over her ample breasts with one hand. She had something in her other hand.
“Martha!” Brandon said, then gave the woman a big hug when she reached them. “Andrea, this is Martha Hill. She and her husband own the café across the street there. Martha, this is Andrea Cunnngham, a guest at Hamilton House. And this fine fella—” he swept one arm in the air “—is Andrea’s very first snowman.”
“And he’s a beauty,” Martha said, smiling. “I saw you out here, Brandon, and it just warmed my heart. It brought back the days when you and your daddy would be building a snowman from the first snowfall. My job in those days was to bring you a carrot for a nose, radishes for a mouth and figs for eyes. So, here I am.”
“I love you,” Brandon said, giving her a smacking kiss on the cheek.
Martha deposited the goodies in Brandon’s cupped hands.
“Come over to the cafe for something hot to drink when you’re finished,” Martha said. “All of you. Brrr. It’s cold.”
Martha hurried away and Brandon poked the of ferings into place on the top ball of snow.
“Oh, my,” Andrea said. “He’s alive now, and he looks so real and happy.”
Brandon slid one arm across her shoulders and pulled her close to his side.
“Do you like him?” he said, looking down at her.
“He’s wonderful,” she said, meeting his gaze. “Thank you, Brandon. I won’t ever forget building my first snowman.”
“Good. Then we did it. We made a memory together.”
“Yes. Yes, we did.”
In front of the smiling snowman and the wide-eyed children, Brandon lowered his head and kissed Andrea.
He can’t do this, Andrea thought. Brandon was kissing her in public, in the town square of Prescott. This was terrible. This was embarrassing. This was... divine.
This kiss was another memory they were making together.
Brandon slowly and reluctantly raised his head.
“You must be cold,” he said, a gritty quality to his voice.
Not really, Andrea thought, rather dreamily. How could a person be cold when there was such allconsuming heat swirling within her? No, oh, no, she wasn’t the least bit cold.
“Hey, Brandon,” a man said.
Brandon turned his head in the direction of the voice, but kept Andrea tucked by his side.
“Jeff,” he said. “How’s it going?”
“Can’t complain,” the man said. “I heard you were down here building a snowman, and I came to take a picture for the paper. We’ll probably save it for the special Christmas Eve issue.”
Andrea blinked,
bringing herself from the sensual haze she was encased in.
“A snowman is big news?” she said.
“You bet,” Jeff said. “This is the first snowman of the year on the square. Okay, everyone, line up, with Frosty in the middle. Then I’ll get your names.”
“Oh, I don’t think...” Andrea started.
“Exactly,” Brandon said. “Don’t think. This isn’t Phoenix, Andrea. You don’t have to worry about your reputation. None of your megabucks clients will see our dinky little newspaper.” He frowned. “Besides, would it be all that terrible if one of the head honchos saw that you’d done something as human as building a snowman?”
Andrea matched Brandon’s frown. “Men have far greater leeway in the corporate world, Brandon. Women have to walk the straight and narrow at all times. You must be aware of that fact from your years in that world.”
“I worked with an attorney in the firm in New York who had a baby.”
“Did she move up to being a partner after the birth of her child?” Andrea said.
“Well, no, but...”
Andrea poked her pink-from-the-cold nose in the air. “I rest my case.”
“Hey, Brandon,” Jeff said. “Am I taking a picture here or not?”
“Andrea?” Brandon said.
What should she do? she thought. There she stood, a soggy mess, having just romped in the snow like a child. She would definitely not want any of her clients to see her like this.
But Brandon was right. This was Prescott, not Phoenix. What reason would there be for any of her clients to read a small-town newspaper?
Not only that, she hadn’t been behaving true to form since she’d arrived on top of this freezing cold mountain. So, what the heck.
“Yes,” she said, smiling. “We’re taking a picture with the most magnificent snowman ever built on the town square of Prescott, Arizona.”
“Way to go,” Brandon said, then dropped a quick kiss on her lips.
The picture was taken, then the group went across the street to the café. The children settled into one of the blue-leather booths, while Andrea and Brandon sat opposite each other in another.
Martha set huge mugs of hot chocolate in front of them, the surface of the steaming drinks covered in melting marshmallows.
Taming Tall, Dark Brandon Page 6