Zachary felt like yesterday’s leftovers.
“If you’ll crack the eggs, I can scramble them,” he said. “And I’ll pull some sliced cinnamon bread from the freezer to make toast. If you’ll be my sous chef, we can eat in twenty minutes.”
She sidled past him. “Of course.” Then she frowned. “But what if you fall into the edge of the stove and burn yourself? On second thought, maybe this is a bad idea. I saw some cereal in the pantry. We can eat that.”
He counted to ten. He was sleep deprived, sex deprived and food deprived. At the moment, he couldn’t decide which was worse. He took a calming breath. “I am not going to fall,” he said. “I’m getting the hang of these crutches. The mixing bowls are in that cabinet beside you. I’ll want four eggs. You can add however many you normally eat.” Maybe his tone was unnecessarily gruff, but he was operating on very little sleep.
Frannie didn’t argue anymore. She pulled the eggs from the fridge, broke them into the bowl and whisked them with a fork. Zachary added salt and pepper and a dash of milk. As it turned out, scrambling them was trickier than he thought, but he had committed to this course, and he wasn’t going to back out now.
Once he got the knack of balancing on the crutches under his arms while holding a cooking utensil, he made progress. When the eggs were almost done, he asked Frannie to check on the toast. “Looks good,” she said.
They sat down to eat ten seconds under his twenty-minute prediction.
It was a quiet meal. Today, the silence was awkward.
Fortunately, they heard the front door open with a muted crash. A loud voice hailed them. “Anybody home?”
Zachary grabbed his crutches and stood up quickly. Or at least as quickly as a one-legged man could manage. When Quinten appeared in the kitchen, the brothers hugged. “Have you eaten?” Zachary asked. “I can scramble more eggs.”
“Nah, I’m good,” Quin drawled, his eyes on Frannie. “Good morning, Ms. Wickersham. Sorry to hear you were stranded.”
The smile she gave Quin was open and uncomplicated. Which irritated Zachary.
“Call me Frannie,” she said. “It’s not a big deal.”
Zachary shook his head. “No, no, no. I’m the only one who gets to call her Frannie. Just like she’s the only one who can call me Zach.”
Quin lifted an eyebrow, giving his brother an incredulous look.
Frannie intervened. “Frances is fine. Or Frannie. Seems I’m answering to either these days. We’re sorry to drag you out so early on a Sunday morning. I’m sure your wife wasn’t happy about that.”
Quin snitched the last piece of toast. “She’s cool. Today we’d marked off for helping her sister paint her apartment.” He gave them a deadpan look. “I hate painting.”
“Well, in that case,” Frannie said. “You’re welcome.”
Quin pointed at the table. “Sit down, bro. Let me see that ankle.”
When Zachary shimmied up his pant leg, Quin winced theatrically. “Damn. That looks awful.”
Frannie nodded. “And it must feel worse than it looks. But your stubborn brother hasn’t been taking any pain meds.”
“Sounds like him,” Quin said. “Is it broken?”
“I don’t think so.” Zachary looked down at his foot. “It’s no worse than yesterday. That has to be a good sign, right?”
“Maybe. I’ve got a call in to my orthopedist. He said he’ll meet us at his office at four thirty this afternoon.”
“On a Sunday?” Frannie was clearly shocked.
Quin looked at her with a sheepish grin. “I’ve been on a first-name basis with half a dozen doctors since my accident.”
“But you’re doing well?”
“I am.”
Frannie began stacking the plates. “Let me get these in the dishwasher, and I’ll run upstairs. Packing won’t take long. I didn’t bring much.”
“Quin can handle the dishes. You go,” Zachary said. “But take your time. We’re in no big rush.”
When Frannie left the room, Quinten shook his head slowly. “What was this cozy little party all about?”
“I wanted to show Frannie the beach house.”
“I’ve never known you to bring a woman here,” Quin said, his expression troubled.
“Frannie’s not a woman. She’s an old friend. It’s different.”
Quin took the dishes and loaded them. “I think you should be careful about this situation, big brother.”
Zachary glared. “What does that mean? Are you worried because she’s going to be working for us? That’s a contract arrangement. She’s not an employee. We’re not breaking any rules.”
“I’m not talking about rules,” Quin said. He wiped his hands on a dish towel and leaned against the dishwasher as it clicked on with a distinctive sound. “I was only with Frances briefly on Friday, but even I can see that she’s different.”
“Different how?” Zachary was about to be pissed.
“Well...” Quin joined him at the table and leaned back in his chair, tipping it on two legs. “She’s not like your usual girlfriends. She’s a serious, extremely intelligent woman.”
“She’s not intelligent,” Zachary snapped. “She’s brilliant.”
“I don’t care about the adjective. I care about the fact that she may not understand your rules. You don’t do permanent.”
“You’re making a big deal about nothing,” Zachary said. “Frannie and I are having fun. Reminiscing. This isn’t serious. I’m sure Frannie is on board with that.”
* * *
Frannie stood in the hallway, crushed, her every fear about getting involved with Zachary carved into bold focus. How was she going to endure this trip back to Portland? Layered with the pain that was embarrassment. She hated the fact that Quinten thought she might be vulnerable, and that he had gone so far as to discuss the subject with his brother. Though the irony of it all was that she was vulnerable. The depth of her disappointment told her she had been weaving teenage daydreams. A ridiculous activity for a mature woman of thirty.
She wasn’t in love with Zachary Stone. Her only feelings for him were...well... She chewed her knuckle. Lust, maybe. Faint echoes of adolescent infatuation.
And yes...friendship. Was that pathetic or sweet? Men and women could be friends. Right? She and Zachary went way back. But apparently, he wasn’t interested in anything long-term.
Her feelings weren’t hurt. Really, they weren’t.
To prove it, she bumped open the kitchen door with her hip and sashayed in to greet the two Stone brothers. “Ready whenever you are,” she said brightly. Too brightly, judging from the bemused looks on their faces.
Zachary nodded. “Okay then.” He glanced at Quin. “Will you bring down my big suitcase? It’s in my bedroom.”
“How’d you get it up there?”
Frannie laughed. “Preaccident.” The laugh must have been convincing, because it made Zachary grumpy, and it made Quin laugh along with her.
“I’ll get your bags, too,” Quin said.
When the youngest Stone brother disappeared, the atmosphere in the kitchen grew strained. At least on Frannie’s part. After all, Zach had no reason to be out of sorts. Other than his hurt ankle.
He tapped his fingers on the table. “Nothing happened last night. You don’t have to feel weird.”
She lifted her chin. “I don’t feel weird. I just want to get back to my hotel room so I can kick back and relax.”
“What does that mean?” His scowl would have been hilarious if she hadn’t been gutted by the recent conversation she had overheard.
She shrugged. “I should have said no when you invited me up here. My usual routine is to spend the weekend fashioning my plan of attack before I start a new job on Monday. I wouldn’t want to shortchange Stone River Outdoors.”
Zachary’s scowl morphed into confusion
. “Was that sarcasm? What’s going on, Frannie? I’ve never known you to be snippy.”
In a flash of realization, she understood that in order to put their relationship back on track, she had to act as if their middle-of-the-night madness hadn’t affected her at all. She had to shake it off. Pretend Zachary Stone was just another old friend.
Even if, deep down, she yearned for Zach to be something he wasn’t, she had to face the truth. This reunion meant nothing earthshaking to him.
She had to match his casual attitude or risk letting him hurt her.
Could she do it?
“Sorry,” she said, clearing her throat. “I didn’t get my full eight hours last night. I’m not at my best.”
He smiled, a warm, intimate smile. “Neither am I. But let me get my ankle rehabbed, and maybe we can try again.”
Her throat was tight. “Sure,” she said. “It could happen.”
Then Quin came back, and things moved quickly after that. The men exited first, after Quin tossed the bags in the back of his huge, fancy four-wheel-drive vehicle. He offered a shoulder to his brother for the trip down the steps and into the vehicle. Luckily for Zachary, Quinten was a heck of a lot stronger than Frannie.
She watched the men joking and laughing as Zachary hobbled his way down the steps in the snow. She was wearing her new boots, and still her feet were cold. It was hard to believe that she and Zach had hiked yesterday in the forest and indulged in that stupid race.
Quin loped back up the steps. “Your turn, Frances.”
“What do you mean?”
He scooped her up into his arms, ignoring her squawk of protest. “The snow is too deep. It will come over the top of those boots. This is easier.”
She was laughing when Quin deposited her in the back on the driver’s side. “And who says chivalry is dead?” she teased.
Zachary didn’t say a word, but his expression was disgruntled. He looked straight ahead, as if something on the other side of the windshield demanded his attention. His jaw was tight, his profile carved in stone.
Quin hopped behind the wheel and started the engine. Soon, heat circulated back to Frannie, warming her toes. Before pulling out of the driveway, Quin reached over his shoulder and offered her a manila envelope.
“Our lawyer gave us the official go-ahead last night, although Farrell and Zachary and I already knew we wanted to hire you. The contract has been signed, except for Zachary here. It will be waiting on you at the hotel desk. In this envelope you’ll find a security badge and a key card that will get you anywhere in the building. My admin handles personnel matters. Let me know if you need anything at all.”
“Thank you,” Frannie said. “I’m eager to get started.”
Quin drove carefully, negotiating the curves in the snow-covered road. “How do you keep us updated...or do you?”
“Definitely, I do,” Frannie said. “Normally, I give my clients a written report every Friday afternoon until the job is complete. However, if something big comes up in the meantime, I’ll ask all three of you to sit down with me so I can go over the information.”
Zachary made a noise, somewhere between a harrumph and a pffft.
His mood was beginning to aggravate Frannie. “What? You don’t like how I do my job? You haven’t signed the contract yet. Feel free to change your mind. I can be on a plane tomorrow. This is a big investment on your part. I don’t want to do this unless you’re all three on board.”
Quin glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “He’s on board. I’m guessing his delightful mood is because of the ankle. Give him some acetaminophen, will you, Frannie?”
She rummaged in her purse and found what she wanted. Reaching into the front seat, she handed them to Zachary. “Here. It’s dumb to suffer for no reason.”
Their hands brushed in the exchange, making her skin tingle. “Thanks,” Zachary muttered.
Frannie sat back, sighing wistfully. They needed Quin. Without him, they would have been stuck. But she wished the weekend hadn’t ended so abruptly. Maybe it was for the best. After last night’s kisses, treating Zachary as a platonic friend was going to tax her acting abilities.
The trip passed quickly. Frannie dozed. The two brothers conversed easily. Work stuff. Family stuff. Sports.
Frannie had always wanted a sibling. Her childhood had been far too quiet. She was certain that hadn’t been true in the Stone household. Three rambunctious boys. It must have been a zoo.
When they were almost back in Portland, Zachary turned his head and gave her an unreadable look. “How do you dive into this forensic business?”
“That depends,” she said. “Does Stone River Outdoors have a VPN? A virtual private network?”
Quin jumped into the conversation. “We do. Problem is, our IT guys aren’t top-notch. They’re basically competent. Don’t get me wrong. But I don’t think they go out of their way to spot irregularities. Because SRO started as a small, family-run company, and because back in the beginning, my father and his father before him knew all the employees, certain business practices were what you might call lax.”
“So, all your nationwide and international companies aren’t linked?”
“We’re working on it.”
“Oh.”
Zachary shook his head. “I know you must think we’re hopelessly behind the times, but you have to understand...my father was running things until he died. My brothers and I didn’t get any say in big decisions. We’ve spent the last two years grieving, dealing with Quin’s messed-up leg and trying to keep the business afloat.”
“No worries. I’ve worked in all kinds of situations.”
Quin spoke up. “I thought about asking our tech guys to help you, but I would feel better if we put everybody under the microscope. You can have my CEO office, and I’ll give you the access info for the network.”
“I could do that if you want me to,” she said. “But I’ve found I can learn a lot from an employee’s work space. The pictures they have, the sticky notes, the way they organize their files. If you don’t mind, I’d like to physically go from one to the next.”
Zachary shrugged. “All our employees are required to change passwords once every six months. They give them to Quin’s admin, and she compiles a hard copy that’s kept in the safe. Primitive, I guess, particularly to someone like you, but it worked for my dad.”
“I’ll make you a copy of the list,” Quin said. “At least that will save you some time. No one in upper management actually checks the list. So, if you find one that doesn’t give you access, let us know. It would be grounds for dismissal if someone has given us a bogus password.”
“Got it.” She was astounded that a company like Stone River Outdoors, with dozens if not hundreds of brick-and-mortar stores, had managed to retain a family feel. That could make her job harder or easier. Time would tell. As they approached the downtown area, Frannie tapped Quin’s shoulder. “My hotel is on the corner over there. Thanks for the lift.”
Zachary turned again, this time looking determined. “What if I pick you up at seven? Take you to dinner? Don’t worry. I won’t drive myself.”
“Thank you,” she said, pretending to look for something in the floor of the car. “I think I’ll kick back and order room service tonight. I loved seeing your beach house. I’m sorry about the accident.” Though she had her head down, she could tell that Zachary still stared at her and that her answer displeased him.
Apparently, even Quin could tell. “She’s not on the clock until tomorrow night, bro. Let’s not monopolize her time.”
Frannie hopped out of the car as soon as it rolled to a stop beneath the hotel’s portico. The bellman helped Quin with the bags. Zachary rolled down his window. “If you change your mind, let me know.” The way he looked at her, all sexy and hungry, brought back their interlude on the sofa last night.
“Okay.” Now that
she faced him, close enough to touch, she almost said yes. The thought of spending a romantic dinner with Zachary was very appealing. But she didn’t want to get into a situation where she let him break her heart. She knew it could happen. With two steps back, in the safest direction, she gave him a little wave and a smile. “Let me know what they say about your ankle.”
Eight
Zachary winced when the doc adjusted his foot on the ice-cold table. “Do you think it’s broken?” he asked.
The doctor stepped behind a half wall and said, “Don’t move.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t.” Zachary had thought the pain was better, but having his ankle touched and maneuvered made his gut cringe.
After a buzzing sound, the doc was back, rearranging the injured foot one more time. “Almost done.”
The doc took the last image and stuck his head around the partition. “You can go back to my office. Down the hall, second door on the right.”
Zachary reached for his crutches, stood and hobbled to the exit. Both of his brothers were waiting in the doctor’s suite. Farrell had decided to come for moral support.
The two Stone siblings grinned when Zachary awkwardly opened the door and made his way inside. “I think that guy’s a sadist,” Zach said.
Quin moved his leg out of the way before Zachary could poke him with a crutch. “I remember him as very kind and helpful when he was treating me.”
Farrell chuckled. “Maybe that’s because you tended to come here during regular office hours.”
“I could have waited until tomorrow,” Zachary grumbled. “I didn’t ask you to pull strings.”
The fortysomething doctor came through the door. “I’ve uploaded the images,” he said briskly. He turned on a large-screen TV mounted on the wall and went to the computer on his desk. “Take a look.”
Even with a healthy IQ, Zachary didn’t know what he was seeing. Quin had more experience than his brothers with this kind of thing.
Secrets of a Playboy Page 9
