Too Many Bosses

by Jan Freed

  Sipping her tea, she snuggled more deeply between the chair’s comforting overstuffed arms. Her older brother, Scott, had shown up with the orange plaid monstrosity in the back of his pickup four months ago, and she’d been thrilled. Every penny she earned went toward rent, student-loan payments and what she called her “guilt fund.” If she was in a frivolous mood, she sometimes bought food.

  There just wasn’t enough left to spend on furniture. Lord knew if she had extra money, she wouldn’t have forced a confrontation with Alec and be his partner now. Life had a funny way of—

  Bang! Bang! Bang! “Brenda Lee. You open this door right now or I’m gonna bust it down!”

  Laura straightened in alarm. Setting down her mug, she tiptoed to the door and fastened the chain lock, although from the sound of that voice it would be feeble protection at best. Why hadn’t she installed a dead bolt and peephole like Scott had suggested?

  Because he’d been domineeringly male about the whole thing, and I can’t stand being treated like a helpless female.

  “I mean it, Brenda Lee. I know you’re in there. I saw your car.”

  Something about the man’s surly voice made Laura break out in a cold sweat.

  “Go away! I told you to leave me alone,” answered a shaky female voice.

  “Look, you little tease, I’m here to collect. You was friendly enough last night when I tipped you damn near my whole paycheck. Now open this friggin’ door and pay up!“

  Laura clutched her throat, then headed for the kitchen wall phone. This guy was dangerous.

  “Go away, Jack, or I’ll call the police!” her neighbor shouted.

  A splintering crash rent the air, followed by a terrified scream. Laura’s knees buckled. The woman needed help now.

  Spotting her glove on the floor, Laura scooped up the softball tucked inside and fumbled with the chain latch on her door, cursing all the while until her clumsy fingers finally managed the task. She jerked the door open, stumbled outside and squinted against the sunlight.

  The door adjacent to Laura’s sagged open, two of its three hinges torn completely out of the shattered door frame. She peered through and froze at the sight of a huge brute grappling with a petite blonde. One of his hands held her two delicate wrists, while the other struggled with the zipper of his jeans.

  “Keep still, bitch. Nobody comes on to Jack Brewster without paying up,” he snarled, forcing the woman slowly toward a sofa.

  Huge green eyes glittered with hate as the blonde threw back her head and spit in his face. He dropped her wrists and wiped his cheek.

  “You shouldn’t oughtta done that, Brenda Lee. Now I cain’t be nice to you no more.” Bunching his massive shoulders, he advanced toward her like an enraged bull. Terror replaced defiance in the blonde’s eyes.

  “Hey, pig!” Laura shouted, stepping through the doorway.

  Jack spun around, his broad face incredulous, as Brenda Lee scuttled into the corner.

  “You’ve got five minutes before the cops get here. I wouldn’t advise touching her again.” Laura’s heartbeat reverberated in her ears. If only the softball she clutched were a gun!

  Small bloodshot eyes the color of Brazos River mud inspected her body, then gleamed like a rat spotting cheese. He smiled, revealing yellow tobacco-stained teeth.

  “Well, well, well. Looks like you got a friend who wants to join the party, Brenda Lee,” he said, his gaze never leaving Laura. “Know what I think, lady? I think you’re shittin’ me. I think you never called no cops.”

  Like two gunslingers facing off, each waited for the other to move. Laura’s fingers turned leather and laces to the correct position.

  Jack’s murky yellow eyes flickered. Laura wound back and let fly even as he lunged forward.

  The ball smacked his left temple at fifty miles an hour. His eyes registered comical disbelief before rolling back in their sockets. Toppling forward, he hit the floor with a resounding thud.

  In the silent aftermath, Laura trembled.

  Brenda Lee crept forward, her curvaceous body outlined by a clinging silk nightgown. The picture of feminine distress, she knelt beside the felled giant, placed gentle fingertips against his throat and lifted a gaze stricken with emotion.

  “Damn it to hell. The bastard’s still alive.” Rising, Brenda Lee bunched her nightgown, wiped her fingers on the silk and stepped forward well out of Jack’s reach. Intelligence, humor and an iron core of strength radiated from her emerald green eyes.

  Suddenly she grinned. Laura grinned back. A bubble of laughter escaped the blonde’s slender throat. Laura snorted in return. Frayed nerves and aftershock did the rest.

  They laughed until tears streamed down their faces. They laughed until they clung together for support. They laughed until a familiar voice thundered from the doorway.

  “What the hell’s going on here, Laura?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ALEC TOOK IN the splintered door frame, the huge man sprawled facedown on the floor and the two women laughing as if they might break into sobs at any minute.

  “Answer me, damn it!” Fear harshened his voice.

  They broke apart. Both wore nightclothes and identical expressions of surprise, but all similarity ended there.

  The tiny blonde could have stepped off the pages of Playboy magazine. She had the lush curves and kittenish tousled look that made most men feel horny and protective at the same time. Alec gave her a cursory glance before turning to Laura and searching for signs of injury. She appeared shaken, but unharmed.

  “Are you two okay?” he asked. When Laura nodded, he relaxed a bit, his gaze traveling head to toe in a second, more leisurely trip.

  Laura’s thick chestnut-hued ponytail fell to the middle of her back. A rumpled University of Texas T-shirt covered her to midthigh, revealing long shapely legs ending in fuzzy brown slippers shaped like Bevo, her alma mater’s longhorn mascot. The horns protruding from her toes looked ridiculous, and endearing.

  Despite the fact she could have stepped straight out of a sorority house, Alec’s eyes returned to the decidedly interesting contours underneath the UT emblem.

  The blonde studied him openly, making no move to cover the generous charms outlined by her pink nightgown. “He a friend of yours, honey?” she asked Laura.

  “That’s no friend, that’s my partner.” Laura’s burlesque-style delivery earned a cheeky grin from the blonde.

  Alec frowned and strode forward. “Are you going to tell me what happened, Laura, or do I have to wait for him to tell me?” He got down on one knee and felt the unconscious man’s wrist. An ugly son of a bitch, he noted. A knot the size of an egg protruded from the guy’s forehead, but his pulse beat strong and steady.

  Alec rose and lifted an eyebrow at Laura.

  “It was nothing very exciting, Alec. Jack here was trying to rape Brenda Lee. We persuaded him otherwise, that’s all.”

  For all Laura’s flippancy, the tight edge in her voice dissolved Alec’s exasperation. He suppressed a startling urge to gather her in his arms.

  Jack groaned.

  Within seconds, Alec found himself sandwiched between two soft scantily clad females. He placed an arm around each woman’s shoulders. “Are you sure he didn’t hurt either of you?” When they nodded, the clamp around his lungs loosened. “Are the police on the way? You have called them, right?”

  Laura raised her chin. “There wasn’t time. He was breaking into Brenda Lee’s apartment and...she screamed and...I had to do something fast.” A shudder rippled through her slim body.

  Yes, Laura being Laura, she would act impulsively—and courageously. He already knew that much about her. But to go up against the hulk on the floor...

  It was all Alec could do to keep from kicking in the bastard’s teeth.

  Giving both women a last squeeze, he disengaged himself and moved into action. “Brenda Lee, call 911, then throw on a robe or something. This place will be crawling with cops soon.” Brenda Lee nodded and disappeared into her bed
room. “Laura, find me something to tie him up with.”

  At his request for help, her dazed look vanished and she ran off. A door opened somewhere outside. Her apartment, he assumed.

  Only minutes earlier, he’d been searching for apartment forty-six when laughter had slowed his steps. The shattered door frame of apartment forty-four had stopped his heart.

  Just then Brenda Lee emerged from her bedroom, tying the sash of a floor-length silk robe. Edging around Jack, she walked into the kitchen and pulled down cups from the cabinet.

  “They’re on the way. Can I make you some coffee?”

  He studied her over the freestanding island counter dividing the kitchen and living area. Not a sniffle in sight, praise the Lord. “That’d be great. Better make plenty.”

  The prone man didn’t stir. Alec noted the oily hair, stained T-shirt and butt cleavage with disgust. The faded outline of a snuff can branded the denim of one back pocket. He moved closer, grimacing at the stench of stale beer and unwashed skin. Animal.

  Loathing misted Alec’s vision, curling his fingers into fists. He stared at Jack and saw another body crumpled on the floor, another man standing over it.

  Quit your snivelin’, boy. Your ma needs to know who’s boss, an’ it’s my job to show her. Now, help me get her up.

  Rising anger—hot, urgent and begging for release—mingled with twisting panic. Alec fought the tangled emotions. Hammered them down with the blunt force of reason. When he could see again, he remembered Brenda Lee. She watched him with an odd expression.

  “Did you say something?” he managed.

  “I asked how you like your coffee.”

  “Black.” He flashed her a smile, a calculated facial movement that left his heart untouched.

  She lost her wary expression and began fussing with the coffeemaker. Alec sighed with relief. Under control now, he resumed his study of the man on the floor. The creep looked strong as an ox.

  “What did you hit him with, for God’s sake?” he asked.

  Brenda Lee stopped bustling and stared into space with an awed expression. “I thought I was a goner for sure. Jack was gonna haul back and hit me—I saw it in his eyes—then your friend yells from the doorway, holding a softball of all things. And I’m thinkin’, Lordy, we’re both gonna die, when she rears back and throws the thing so fast it’s a blur.” An admiring smile lit her face. “Damned if it wasn’t just like David and Goliath.”

  Alec cocked a skeptical eyebrow.

  Brenda Lee’s smile vanished. “See for yourself,” she challenged, pointing a finger. “The ball’s right over there.”

  Alec’s gaze followed her finger to a regulation softball resting benignly on the carpet. He hunkered down one more time next to Jack and pushed back a greasy lock of hair. Sure enough, the swollen lump bore a faint impression of crisscrossed laces. If Laura had missed, or hit any other part of the brute’s body than his temple—

  Alec cursed under his breath.

  A door slammed nearby and Laura rushed into the apartment, holding out an assortment of items for his inspection. “I couldn’t find any rope, but I thought maybe one of these would work.”

  He eyed the thick chain-link belt, spandex tights and oversize silk scarf, then chose the belt, knowing it would dig into Jack’s skin. Planting a knee on the man’s spine, Alec wrapped and tied the thick hairy wrists. Tight.

  Ignoring Laura’s amazed look, he stood and brushed off his khaki pants. “That was a stupid totally irresponsible thing to do, Laura. You were lucky as hell the ball hit him where it did.”

  Her eyes flared with indignation. She crossed her arms under her breasts. The movement pulled soft cotton taut and raised the hem of her T-shirt an inch. “Luck had absolutely nothing to do with it. I hit what I was aiming for.”

  If she wanted him to think she was Nolan Ryan, she’d damn well better put some clothes on.

  Laura followed the direction of his gaze, blushed and dropped her arms. “I’m going to get changed. I’ll be back in a minute,” she mumbled.

  Brenda Lee nodded to her fleeing back, then looked at Alec with a knowing grin. The distant wail of a police siren saved him from comment. He checked his watch. Jason had begged to be taken to Chuck E Cheese’s for lunch, but this was an emergency. Mrs. Pennington would make him understand, Alec assured himself. It wasn’t like he’d planned to miss lunch with Jason—not this time, anyway. The boy would probably get caught up in Nintendo and never even notice his absence.

  As the siren grew louder, he walked to the doorway and leaned against the jamb, keeping one eye on Jack. The next hour was going to be exactly the kind of chaotic episode Alec hated. Served him right for deviating from his original plan to start an agency on his own. His “partner,” it appeared, had a remarkable talent for disrupting both his peace of mind and the strategy he’d spent months developing.

  Good thing he always carried a Plan B in his head.

  * * *

  LAURA SCANNED her cluttered apartment in dismay. Alec, who’d be through with the police any minute, had asked to speak with her privately. The thought of him seeing this mess galvanized her into action.

  She grabbed the metal frame of her bed and heaved, watching the thin mattress fold into the innards of her sleeper-sofa. Stuffing sheet corners out of sight, she covered the evidence with orange-flowered cushions and scowled.

  The man could at least have had the courtesy to call before arriving this morning. But no. Alec McDonald didn’t answer to the same rules as the rest of modern society. Look at the way he’d taken charge when the police arrived, as if she couldn’t speak for herself.

  She rushed into the kitchen and began rinsing plates and glasses and loading them into the dishwasher. Strange how she’d lived here a year and never met Brenda Lee. Laura had learned some eye-opening facts after chatting with her neighbor during a lull in the excitement.

  Apparently Brenda Lee had graduated two weeks ago from secretarial school, but wasn’t having much luck finding a day job. She supported herself by waitressing nights at a “gentlemen’s club,” where Jack had been pestering her for weeks. She was fairly certain a jealous coworker had given Jack her home address.

  Deep in thought, Laura held a glass under running water. She could see where Brenda Lee’s face and body would turn some women pea green. Yet the vulnerability in her neighbor’s eyes had spoken to Laura on a gut level. She knew what it felt like to be excluded. All her life, it had seemed as if women belonged to an exclusive club—one whose qualifications and bylaws eluded her.

  Her upbringing had prepared her for the good-old-boys’ club, instead.

  Laura worried her lower lip as she loaded the last few plates. She had a feeling a friend might come in handy during the next few months. And maybe she ought to take a look at Brenda Lee’s résumé, as well. She’d do it right after Alec left.

  Slamming the dishwasher door, Laura moved back into the main room. An authoritative knock made her groan. Throwing a last wild look around, she moved toward the door and paused. The apartment wasn’t dirty, just...crowded. If he didn’t like it, tough toenails.

  Flinging the door open, she caught her breath.

  Alec stood with one arm high, his palm resting against the doorjamb. He looked rumpled, irritated and very masculine. The knit sleeve of his forest green shirt rode high on his raised arm. She stared at his formidable biceps and revised her opinion of indolent executives.

  Dropping his hand, Alec swept past her without a word. Suddenly her apartment, which had only seemed small before, now felt tiny as a doll’s house.

  “Do come in, won’t you?” Her voice dripped sarcasm.

  Without ceremony, he plopped down on her sofa, stretched out his long legs and gave the room a thorough inspection.

  “And do make yourself at home while you’re at it.” Laura wiped damp palms on her shorts. Her tacky little efficiency didn’t reflect her personal style or taste, but he couldn’t know that. She braced herself for his scorn.

&
nbsp; “Thank God for garage sales and hand-me-downs, huh?” he said after a moment. “I never would’ve made it through school without them.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” She crossed over to the plaid armchair and sank down, curling her Bevo slippers beneath her. “You mean you weren’t born wearing a polo shirt and topsiders?”

  Looking down at himself as if startled, his mouth twisted. “Not hardly. This apartment is the Hilton compared to the place I grew up in.”

  “Where was that?”

  His gaze turned flat and bleak. “Hell.”

  Her eyelids fluttered, then steadied. “Then you should feel right at home working with me.” There, he’d almost smiled. Pleasure scurried through her, as unexpected as it was strong.

  He drew his legs in and sat up taller. “That’s what I’m here to talk with you about. Our working together.”

  “Couldn’t this have waited until Monday?”

  “With a six-year-old bouncing off the walls at my house, I had the crazy notion your apartment would be a quieter place to talk. Call me stupid.”

  She was tempted. Oh, boy, was she tempted. “It’s quiet now. So talk.”

  “I think we need to set the terms of our partnership straight. Our temporary partnership.”

  “Temporary?”

  “That’s right. We were forced into this arrangement against our wishes, and I’m suggesting a tolerable solution to the problem.” He leaned forward and propped both forearms on his knees. “One year,” he rapped out. “We work together one year, long enough to establish a full-service agency, as well as the new Regency Hotels campaign. Then we go our separate ways.”

  Oh, Lord, not the drumrolls again. “And just who would ‘go’ with Regency Hotels?”

  “I realize your creative strategy helped clench Sam’s account, so I’ve given this a lot of thought. At the end of one year, I’d buy you out at fair market value, with your written agreement not to solicit existing clients. Then you’d be free to establish your own agency.”

  He had it all planned, the jerk. He would use her until Sam grew dependent on the agency, then leave her to pick up the pieces of her life. She’d sung that song before, thank you.