But Not for Me

by Annette Broadrick

  There was no reason for Carl to worry. Brad had an excellent track record for convincing a person that Brad’s way was the best way. Her being there on the plane with him certainly proved his powers of persuasion. He’d used them successfully on other occasions.

  He’d convinced her years ago that helping him build his dream company would not only bring her wealth but also tremendous satisfaction.

  What normal, red-blooded woman wouldn’t have fallen in love with him?

  Of course she’d never, by look or deed, revealed her feelings to him. Not only would that have sabotaged her career, but it would also have sent Brad Phillips running for the nearest exit.

  She almost smiled at that thought but, if Brad happened to notice that she wasn’t asleep, he’d want to continue to discuss her plan to take some time off. She wasn’t ready to go another round with him on that subject.

  Rachel seldom discussed her private life with Brad. One of the ways she avoided personal topics was to turn his casual questions around to find out about his social life. Over the years he’d been surprisingly forthcoming about who he was seeing and who he had stopped seeing. Rachel wasn’t sure which was worse, imagining Brad with various women or actually hearing about them.

  She’d formed a clear picture of his modus operandi in the romance department. There wasn’t an ounce of romance in the man, which was really a shame because he was the type of male that women fantasized about while gnawing on a knuckle and whimpering.

  Working construction had honed his tall, rangy body into solid muscle and sinew. Along the way he’d acquired what appeared to be a permanent tan as a result of years spent working in the sun. She wasn’t sure how he managed to keep his trim good looks now that he spent a large part of his time indoors, but there was no doubt a hard body lurked beneath his custom-made suits.

  As one of her friends so succinctly put it, if she hadn’t fallen in love with the man after working closely with him for years, someone would have needed to check her pulse to be certain she was alive.

  He had no trouble attracting the attention of women, married or single, but the man appeared uninterested in their admiration. She couldn’t say he was classically handsome…his face showed too much strength for that. How he remained unaware of his ability to charm any woman he wanted into his bed was beyond her. Having known other men who used that particular skill to seduce women who could put them in touch with business contacts, she knew that Brad was an exceptional man. He never used his sensual appeal as a manipulative tool.

  Rachel knew that he sometimes dated daughters of leading businessmen in Dallas, not because he ever mentioned them, but because he was frequently seen in photographs prominently displayed on the society pages of the daily newspaper. She knew when he’d stopped seeing one of them by the stack of phone messages he received, pleading with him to call.

  She recalled one night about a year after she had gone to work for him. They had worked late at the office. As usual Brad had offered to feed her. Once they had eaten and he was in a relaxed mood, he surprised her by mentioning a couple of the women he’d been seeing, giving her new insight into his complicated thought processes.

  They had been enjoying their after-dinner coffee when in a rare burst of curiosity, she asked, “I noticed that Caroline Windsor has been calling frequently during the past few days. Is there a problem with your relationship?”

  He winced, making her wish she could cut off her tongue before it got her into any more trouble. “The problem is that she thinks we have a relationship,” he replied gruffly.

  He must have registered her surprise at his comment because he continued in explanation. “You see, Caroline always gets whatever she wants that daddy can buy, which covers a lot of territory, given Carter Windsor the Third’s bank balance. She kept turning up whenever her dad and I met while planning his latest commercial venture, joining us for lunch and suggesting not too subtly that she was available for dinner.”

  He sipped on his coffee and Rachel hoped he would continue with this story, because it sounded like a good one. There weren’t too many—all right, if she were being honest—she didn’t know of any man who wouldn’t be flattered by drawing Ms. Windsor’s attention, giving him an opportunity to get in closer touch with the Carter Windsor dynasty.

  She kept her gaze on her coffee, not wanting to let him see how his remarks had only whetted her no-doubt morbid curiosity concerning his love life.

  “I’m not making excuses in regard to my behavior,” he said after a long pause. “CeCe is attractive, intelligent and never boring. What she can be at times is demanding. She doesn’t like the hours I work because she’s used to having an escort at her beck and call. When I explained that she was free to find someone else since I couldn’t always meet her requirements, she resorted to tears and said things I know she regrets. I realized that if she pictured us as a couple headed toward commitment, I had to step out of her life immediately. So I did.” The firm tone he used indicated that he’d made up his mind. “I’m not sure she believed me.”

  “Hence her telephone calls?” Rachel asked with a slight smile.

  He shrugged. “I guess. She discovered that I don’t play games when she hoped to punish me by not being available when I found time to call. I suppose she wanted to make me jealous.” His smile was rueful. “That doesn’t work with me.”

  “So you aren’t looking for a long-term commitment, I take it?” she asked very casually.

  “I already have one,” he replied, settling comfortably back into the plush banquette.

  Rachel hoped she’d covered her startled reaction. She couldn’t think of anyone who had been in his life for more than a few months since he’d hired her. “I see,” she said. “Have I met her?”

  He grinned. “It’s not a her. It’s this business, Rachel. I thought you of all people would understand that.”

  “Ah,” she replied, feeling a strong sense of relief that he hadn’t been referring to another woman, which was stupid of her. What difference could it make to her?

  “I learned a long time ago,” he continued, “that relationships never work out in the long run. Besides, they take too much time and energy. Most women I know are looking for a husband and a father for their future children. Since I’m not going to be either of those things, I rarely stay with one woman for more than a few months.”

  As the plane winged eastward, Rachel remembered everything he’d said that night. She’d been relieved in a way that she wouldn’t have to witness her boss someday marrying some blushing bride. However, his remarks had also made her wonder why he was so certain he would never marry. She may have been given a glimpse of his fiercely guarded past a few years ago. Janelle had forwarded one of Brad’s calls to her when he was out of town.

  “This is Rachel Wood, Mr. Phillips’ assistant. May I help you?”

  “Not unless you happen to be sitting on Brad’s lap. I want to speak to my son and I intend to speak to my son. So put him on the line. Now.”

  Brad never mentioned his family. She had somehow received the impression that his parents were dead. Obviously she’d been wrong.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Phillips,” she said, her voice warming, “Brad is out of town. He won’t be back until the end of the week. Would you like me to give him a message?”

  She heard a distinct growl of displeasure before the man said, “Why don’t you do that? Why don’t you ask him why he never returns my phone calls? Why don’t you ask him why he looked through me as though I didn’t exist when he left some mucky-muck’s posh party at the Marriott Hotel last week? And ask him why he refuses to meet me, completely ignoring all the years I spent raising him?”

  More hesitant now, she answered, “Yes, Mr. Phillips, I’ll give him the message.”

  “And tell him I expect to hear from him as soon as he returns to town.”

  “I will,” she said quietly.

  “Oh, and for the record—my name isn’t Phillips. It’s Harold Freeland.” He
slammed the phone down, causing her to wince.

  She’d carefully recorded everything the man had said in a memo and placed it in the center of Brad’s desk so that he would see it as soon as he returned. The first time she entered Brad’s office after his return she saw the typed message crumpled in his waste-basket.

  Neither of them mentioned the phone call or the message she’d relayed to him. She’d never felt it was any of her business to ask questions about his parents and Brad certainly hadn’t volunteered any explanations.

  He’d been raised by his father? What had happened to his mother? Did his relationship with his parents have anything to do with his strongly held desire not to marry?

  Who knew?

  That phone call was the only time she’d been shown a glimpse of his life before she’d gone to work for him. She had a hunch she might understand Brad better if he were willing to discuss his childhood with her, but he never mentioned it.

  On the other hand, he’d been wonderfully compassionate when her mother had been diagnosed as terminally ill. He’d told Rachel to stay home with her mother after the surgery that had confirmed the diagnosis, and he’d continued to pay her salary despite her protests. In addition, he’d paid off the medical bills that weren’t covered by her mother’s insurance. Rachel had been heartbroken that she’d been home with her mother for only a few weeks before she succumbed to her illness.

  Rachel had been the one to deal with the arrangements, which was only fair. Both her brother and his family and her sister, who was single, lived in California. Rachel was the one who had stayed home with her mother for all those years.

  She’d lost her mother four years ago and Rachel still missed her. She’d had a rough time adjusting to the loss. Brad had been more than supportive.

  So he had a heart. He just didn’t want the knowledge to get around. The news might ruin his reputation for being a tough, hardheaded businessman.

  “Rachel?”

  Startled, Rachel sat up, opening her eyes. “Yes?” she said, her voice hoarse.

  He grinned. “No, we’re not crashing, so you can relax, if that’s possible.”

  She frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “Somehow I’ve managed to get the impression during this trip that you’re afraid of flying.”

  Wouldn’t you know his powers of observation would zero in on something like that when he was oblivious to so many other things, Rachel thought, irritated. Maybe she could bluff him.

  “I don’t know where you got the idea that I’m afraid of flying,” she replied with as much dignity as she could muster.

  He raised one of his brows in feigned surprise. “You don’t say,” he drawled, looking amused. “You were clutching the arms of your seat so hard when we took off that you actually left permanent dents where your fingernails dug into the leather.”

  She quickly checked the arms to make sure she hadn’t done that very thing when his laughter made her realize she’d given herself away.

  “I don’t fly very often,” she admitted, still trying to hang on to her dignity, which appeared to be slipping rapidly away.

  “Oh, I’m well aware of that. I’m also aware how close you were to mutiny when we boarded.”

  “That’s because there is no good reason for me to be on this trip,” she replied, feeling defensive.

  “I can think of several off the top of my head but this isn’t the time to go into them.”

  She stared wildly around the cabin and tightly gripped the arms of her seat. “Why?” she demanded.

  He gave her that lopsided grin of his—the one that usually melted her heart no matter how aggravated she might be with him—and said, “Captain says we’ll be landing in another thirty minutes or so. Thought you’d want to know.”

  She nodded and stood. “Thank you,” she said, gathering her dignity like a cloak around her. “I’ll go and freshen up.” She went back to the rest room and waited until the door closed firmly behind her before she faced herself in the mirror.

  Her reflection wasn’t a reassuring sight. Somehow she’d managed to turn a rather bilious color of green. No doubt the altitude contributed to the sickly pallor.

  She quickly used the facilities, washed her hands and face, and tried to rub some color—other than green—into her face before she had to return to the cabin.

  There were times when Brad caught her off guard with his acute observations of her. Now that she was going to be in his company for most of the next few days, she needed to watch her every word and expression. He didn’t need to see beneath her professional facade any more than he already had.

  After patting her face dry, combing her hair and reapplying her lipstick, Rachel returned to her seat. Brad was already seated next to her. As soon as she buckled herself in, he took her right hand firmly in his large left one and said, “Hang on, Rachel, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  She had no idea whether he was referring to her mysterious stalker or to the interminable flight but it really didn’t matter.

  He was too late. Something had happened to her over which Brad Phillips had no control. He held her vulnerable heart in his grasp, if he but knew.

  Chapter Three

  Rachel kept her eyes closed and gratefully clasped Brad’s hand during the landing. She no longer cared if she saved face or not. She’d given herself away on this flight and there was no going back.

  Once the plane taxied to a hangar and stopped, Brad said, “You can open your eyes now.” When she opened them Brad was watching her with a revolting grin on his face. “It’s all right, Rachel. We’re safely down and I really need my hand to unbuckle my seat belt.”

  She was mortified. She jerked her hand away from his and fumbled to release herself from the seat. He rose and held out his hand to her.

  “Ready?” he asked with what she felt was undue amusement dancing in his eyes.

  “You think this is funny, don’t you?” she asked, ignoring his hand while she slipped the strap of her purse over her shoulder and stood.

  “You have to admit there aren’t many times when I see you less than your competent, professional self. At least let me enjoy it for a few minutes.”

  She picked up her briefcase, walked past him and headed to the door that the pilot had opened. “Live it up,” she muttered crossly and gave the pilot a dazzling smile to make certain he knew that she wasn’t disgruntled because of him.

  Halfway down the steps, Rachel spotted Carl leaning against a late-model Jeep that she now remembered he’d driven from home. She waved with a sense of relief disproportionate to the moment, she knew, but she didn’t care.

  She’d had a rough day. Brad’s ridiculous insistence that he protect her had only added to her stress. At least Carl would be there to lend her emotional support if she needed to distance herself from Brad during this trip.

  Carl was in his mid-fifties, with a thick head of blindingly white hair. He was gruff, tough and highly competent. He was also a teddy bear. She’d never forget his beaming face last year when he’d come to the office with photos of his first grandchild, a brand-new little girl. He’d insisted that Chrissie looked exactly like her mother—his daughter—when she was born. All Rachel saw was a red face, squinting eyes and fists clenched as though the infant was ready to take on the world.

  Once her feet touched the solid tarmac she gave a huge sigh of relief and headed toward Carl without checking to see if Brad was behind her.

  When she reached the Jeep, Carl straightened from his leaning position and gave her a quick hug. “It’s great to see you, Carl,” she said.

  He pulled his head back and looked at her. “You look a little green around the gills, honey. What’s the boss been doing to you?” he asked with concern.

  Brad spoke from somewhere behind her. “Forcing her to fly, it appears. Can’t imagine how she’s managed to hide that particular fear from me all these years.” The two men shook hands.

  While everyone got into the Jeep, Car
l said, “I’ll admit I was surprised to hear that you were bringing Rachel. I wondered if you thought you couldn’t face Mrs. Crossland without help.”

  Rachel was thankful to be sitting directly behind Brad. She grinned without fear of his spotting her amusement. She glanced to the front and caught Carl’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He winked before returning his gaze to the road.

  “Rachel needed to get out of town for a few days,” Brad said casually. “We were discussing the matter when you called. I decided this would be a good way to deal with both situations at the same time.”

  Once again Carl’s gaze met hers in the mirror. “What’s been happening while I’ve been away?”

  She gave her head a slight shake before saying, “Oh, I was just asking for some time off.” She gave him a smile of reassurance, then blinked in surprise when Carl laughed uproariously as though thinking of some private joke.

  “Well, that certainly explains Brad’s panic,” Carl said after a moment. “Rachel, don’t you know the whole company would collapse without you to run interference with the boss for the rest of us?”

  Brad turned his head toward Carl, giving Rachel a view of his distinctive profile. If possible, his strong jaw seemed more pronounced when he said, “You don’t seem to have trouble dealing with me without Rachel’s help.” His drawl was more pronounced.

  Ah, so Carl’s remark had pushed one of Brad’s buttons.

  Carl continued to watch the road as they barreled down the highway. “Well, yeah, but that’s because I can always retire when you decide to fire me.”

  Brad snorted. “That’ll be the day. I can see you staying at home playing with that grandbaby of yours all day. You’d be chomping at the bit looking for a little excitement within a week.”

  Carl laughed again. “Maybe so. Never can tell until I’ve tried it, though.” Then in a more serious voice, he asked, “You want to hear about Mrs. Crossland’s complaints?”

  Brad shook his head. “Not until we get settled in. Is there going to be room for us at the condo you rented?”