Do Not Disturb (3 page)

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
interoffice 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 them 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.