Brant's Return

Brant chuckled again. “I wouldn’t throw you to the wolf like that, May. No, I’ll go up and let him know I’m here. You might want to put some earplugs in before I do.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “May I speak to you in private, Mr.—Brant?”

Brant turned back to me, his expression surprised, smile fading. He glanced once at May who was looking between the two of us. “Sure.” He stood from the counter stool, coming to his full height. “May, we’ll finish catching up later.”

“Tuesday morning,” May said, untying her apron strings. “That’s when I’ll be back.” She turned away, but I heard her mutter, “Hopefully the storm will have passed by then.”

Brant followed me into the hall, and I turned, intending on leading him to my office so we could sit and talk. I figured he’d want to know more about his father’s condition than the little I’d told him on the phone. And I wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to cause his father any undue stress. I had orchestrated this. I was responsible for ensuring it was handled properly.

But I startled, turning when I felt Brant’s hand on my arm, that same small shivery sparkle dancing underneath my skin at his touch. This time, he was the one to break the contact. “This right here is private enough.”

I was taken off guard momentarily as I stared into his cold blue eyes. If there had been passion, life shining from this man’s eyes once, either time or circumstances had taken it from him. Or perhaps he’d tossed it away in lieu of the rigid composure he carried now. For some unknown reason, Brant Talbot had decided he didn’t like me, and that was fine, but I cared for his father, so I would make every effort to protect him. “O-okay then.” I held eye contact, ignoring his intimidating presence as best as I could. “I think we should get a few things straight.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Brant

I leaned against the wall, putting my hands in my pockets, as I allowed my eyes to peruse her slowly. Her knee-length sundress fluttered around her slim legs, showcas

ing delicate curves in all the right places, but it was obviously cheap. The sandals on her feet were scuffed and well worn. Her skin was smooth and tanned as though she spent plenty of time lying around the pool. Secretary my ass. Although my father sure had picked a pretty one this time. Pretty and young. This girl couldn’t be a day over twenty-five. She fidgeted under my stare. Good. “Say what needs saying, Ms. Farris.”

She paused momentarily, her big, brown doe eyes shifting to the side before meeting mine again. A tendril of hair slipped out of her braid, and I had the craziest urge to reach out and tuck it back behind her ear. That hair—it was like mahogany silk. Would it feel as soft as it looked? I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets, curling them into fists and shutting down ridiculous and pointless fantasies about my father’s little trophy girlfriend.

“I’ll go up and let him know you’re here once he’s awake,” she said, exhaling a breath. “I’m the one who called, and from what I hear, he’ll need at least a little preparation before he sees you. I want to minimize any potential stress.”

I regarded her. Potential stress i.e. my presence. “Fair enough. You know him better than I do.”

That seemed to take her off guard for a second. “It has been thirteen years.”

“Almost fourteen actually.”

She tilted her head. “Well, like I said, I’m glad you made the trip. I hope it will be good for both of you.”

“What kind of cancer does he have?”

She sighed. “It started out in a muscle. He had surgery to remove the tumor, and then a bout of chemo, but it had already begun spreading. Now . . . well, it’s everywhere. His lungs trouble him the most.” She winced slightly, and I felt a small answering twinge in the region of my chest. Maybe she really did care about the old guy.

“How long have you . . . worked here?”

Her hands fluttered at her sides for a moment as if looking for something to hold on to. Finding nothing, she clasped them in front of her. “Three years.”

“You like it here?”

“Very much.”

Our eyes met again and that buzzing tension I’d felt when we touched seemed to crackle in the air between us. “Anyway, he should be up soon, but do you want me to show you to your room so you can get settled before you see him?”

“I know my way around this house, Ms. Farris. I can show myself to my old room.”

She blinked. “Ah, well, a few rooms have been repurposed. Which one used to be yours?”

“Top floor, second left.” The room across the hall from my father’s.

She shook her head, a stain of color coming into her cheeks. “That’s mine now. I’d switch, but it’s more convenient if I’m close to your father.” Yeah, I bet.

She moved suddenly, and I took a step backward, startled. “Follow me, though. There’s a guest room on this floor at the back of the house.” She took several steps, and I followed close on her heels. She turned back abruptly, apparently not realizing I was so close. We collided, both exhaling startled breaths, our gazes crashing as much as our bodies. I gripped her upper arms to steady her. She smelled like almonds and vanilla and her skin felt like velvet. My body tightened all over, every male part of me responding to her. Fuck. I let go of her as abruptly as I’d taken hold and she stumbled back a step, still staring as if in a daze, her top teeth scraping over her bottom lip as she blushed furiously. I had the strangest sense of déjà vu . . . as if she were familiar in some intrinsic way.

What are you doing? Shake it off, Brant.