He reconciled himself to letting her go. Turning for the outer door, he doled out necessary info as he led her along the hall to the front of the house. “It’s a four-car garage. You can have the bay on the far left. Before you go, I’ll get you a garage-door remote, a house key and the code for the alarm system...”
* * *
At her apartment, Elise parked in her space by the Dumpster and entered the building through the back door. The hallway and the stairwell smelled of donuts from the donut shop in front. She’d grown to hate that smell, mostly because it tempted her constantly. There was something so perfect about a donut, after all. Flour and fat and sugar, deep-fried and glazed or frosted. The purest sort of comfort to a desperate woman’s soul.
Well, bye bye, temptation and hello, jetted tub. So what if she had to type Jed Marsh’s book for a living? She’d have a bath every night and make buckets of money. Life was looking up.
Mr. Wiggles was waiting when she opened the door. “Mrow?” he asked.
“Wigs!” She scooped him up, all twenty-plus superfluffy pounds of him. He was orange, with a huge, thick tail and a deep, loud purr. She buried her face against his lionlike ruff. “We are moving today,” she told him. “We’ll keep this dump for now, I think. And reevaluate our crappy living situation once the job is over.”
“Mrow, mrow,” Wigs replied, as though he understood every word she said. He butted his big head against her cheek to let her know how much he loved her. She gave him one more kiss for good measure and then set him down to start packing.
Her cell rang as she was piling clothes into three suitcases spread open on the lumpy bed.
It was Nellie. “Well?”
“Nailed it.”
“You got the job! I knew you would.”
“I have to live there, in his house.”
“I built that house and Chloe designed the interiors.” Chloe was their brother Quinn’s wife. “You’re gonna love it.”
She thought of the bathtub, of the king-size bed. “Oh, yes, I will. And the money is good. Really good.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear. What about Jed? Seriously, you think you can put up with him?”
“He’s not so bad. A little weird. A lot intense.”
“Sexy, though, right? In a club-you-senseless-and-drag-you-to-his-cave sort of way.”
For some unknown reason, Elise felt a hot flush rush upward over her cheeks. “Don’t even go there. He’s my boss now and we’re keeping it strictly professional.”
Nell’s naughty laugh echoed in her ear. “You have way more scruples than can possibly be necessary—and we have to celebrate. I’m buying the drinks.”
“Rain check. I need to get moved in over there tonight. The job starts early tomorrow morning.”
“He gives you crap you can’t handle, you call me.”
Elise’s cheeks were still burning. She could almost smell cinnamon. And what about that crazy thing he’d said? Unfortunately, I find you sexually attractive. “Oh, I think I can handle him.”
Nell laughed. “There. That’s what I’ve been missing. You’ve got your attitude back.”
She felt all misty-eyed suddenly. “Thank you, Nellie.”
“Hey. What’s a sister for?”
“We, um...we’re all right now, you and me. Aren’t we? I mean, I know I was a total bitch to you back in the day...”
“Back in the day? You and Tracy treated me like crap right up until Clara’s almost-wedding to Ryan.” That was nearly two years ago now. Clara hadn’t married her best friend, Ryan McKellan, but she had somehow succeeded in healing the lifelong breach between Elise and Nell—and Nell and Tracy.
Elise defended her absent bestie. “Don’t be too hard on Tracy. She always just followed my lead.” But not anymore. Tracy was forging her own way now.
Nell laughed again. “You’re right. It was all your fault. But I did get my licks in, too. Remember that time I put bubblegum on your breakfast-nook chair?”
Elise started laughing, too. “I loved those yellow shorts. They were never the same.”
“It’s what you get for messing with me.”
“I know. You’re so scary.”
“Oh, yes, I am. And don’t you forget it.”
“Never. And I guess what I’m asking is, do you forgive me for all the mean things I did?”
Nell gave a soft sigh. “You know I do.”
“I’m so glad.”
“Leesie? You’re not getting sappy on me, are you?”
Elise swiped at her damp eyes. “No way. Gotta go.”
They said goodbye and Elise made quick calls to Clara and Jody, to tell them she had a job typing Jed Walsh’s newest book and wouldn’t be in at the café or Bloom the next day.
Then she finished packing and dragged her suitcases down to her car, followed by all the cat gear and, last but not least, Mr. Wiggles. He rode in the front seat, sitting up tall beside her, watching the world go by and making those cute little chirping sounds, his own personal brand of kitty conversation. He loved the car and he never got in the way of her driving, so she’d given up on making him ride in his carrier.
She took the space in the garage that Jed had assigned to her and carried Mr. Wiggles in first, pausing in the utility room to check the alarm. As it turned out, Jed hadn’t armed it when she left, so she didn’t have to mess with it right then. She went on down a hallway and then through the kitchen and great room and down that other hall to her bedroom suite, finding no sign of her employer along the way.
Which was just fine. She had a lot to do and she didn’t need the distraction of dealing with her big, crabby boss.
In her room, she put Wigs down in front of the window, promised him she would be right back and went out to start hauling everything in, taking care to shut the door as she left so he wouldn’t get out. Jed had said he hated cats. No reason to test his patience right off the bat.
By seven, she had everything put away and her stomach was growling. Wigs, meanwhile, alternately circled his empty food bowl, chased the cleaning robot she’d started up a few minutes before and made a big show of scratching at his three-level activity center.
“Okay, okay. I’m on it.” She’d stored his food in the utility room, which had seemed the most logical place for it. She scooped up his food bowls—for wet and for dry—and went out the door again.
The hallways and great room and kitchen were empty. Very odd. Her first night in his house and Jed had vanished into thin air.
She considered peeking into his office, or even looking for him upstairs.
But the thought of wandering through the unfamiliar house trying to track him down made her even more uncomfortable than not having a clue as to where he’d gone. So she went ahead to the utility room to dish up Wigs’s dinner. She was pulling the top off a can when she heard music.
She shouldn’t snoop.
But really. Where was he? And, no, wait... A better question was why did she care?
Well, she cared because...
Okay, fine. She had no idea why she cared.
She set the opened can on the counter and stuck her head out into the hall. Yep. Music.
She followed the faint sound back out into the great room, to the wide central staircase that switched up and back from the lower level to the top floor. It was coming from downstairs, the basement level. She leaned over the railing, listening. It was something with a hard beat, but the sound remained muffled, indistinct. Maybe there was a TV room down there. Her curiosity increased. She left the railing and started down the stairs, catching herself on the second step.
No, she told herself sternly. Bad idea. Mind your own business.
So she turned and retraced her steps back to the utility room, where she dished up the food and took it to her hungry cat.
“Mrow?” Wigs left off stalking the cleaning robot to get to work on his dinner.
Now what?
Her stomach growled again. Jed had said that she should make herself at home in the kitchen. She’d grab something to eat and then get up close and intimate with that glorious tub.
It was weird, raiding the refrigerator of the stranger she now worked for—and lived with, essentially. But the food looked good. She heated up a plate of roast chicken, mashed potatoes and mixed veggies and set herself a place at the table that would have looked just right in the castle of a medieval king. She even poured a glass of the pinot grigio she found in the door of the fridge—hey, the bottle was open. Why not? Pulling back one of the big, studded leather chairs, she sat down and smoothed her napkin in her lap.
Definitely weird. Just her, all alone at the massive slab of a table in the giant great room.
She’d just lifted her glass and taken a nice, big gulp of wine when Jed asked from behind her, “You all set up, then?”
Startled, she choked. Wine sprayed out her nose. Coughing and gagging, she shoved back her chair and pressed her napkin to her face. It wasn’t pretty. Ragged, hacking sounds alternated with desperate wheezing as she tried to catch her breath.
“Breathe,” he commanded. He was at her back by then, pounding on it with his enormous hand, instructing, “Slow, easy. That’s the way.”
After a terrifying minute or two wherein she wondered if she would ever breathe again, her throat loosened up. She sucked in a decent breath of air at last.
“Okay?” he asked warily.
After wiping the last of the wine from her cheeks, she turned to faced him—and almost choked all over again at the sight of him. Shirtless, he had on a pair of low-riding training shorts that displayed the sculpted tops of sharply cut V lines. His big, chiseled chest was dusted with manly hair and dripping sweat. He had a towel slung around his neck, one end of which he was using to wipe more sweat from his forehead.
Mystery solved: there was a gym in the basement. She’d heard his workout music.
Somehow, she managed to croak out accusingly, “Don’t you ever sneak up on me like that again.”
For that she got a lifted eyebrow and a disdainful “I never sneak.” And then he asked again, “You okay?”
“Splendid. Thank you.”
And just like that, he turned and walked away. She stared at his broad, sweaty back as he strode to the staircase. He went up, pausing to look down at her just before he reached the first landing. “Zero-eight-three-zero hours tomorrow. Be ready to work.”
Like she was some scatterbrained child incapable of remembering the simplest instructions.
Four thousand a week, she reminded herself. Four thousand and a jetted tub. She nodded, sat back down, picked up her fork and did not glance toward the stairs again.
* * *
The next day was just as Elise had expected it to be. Endless.
She typed and she typed some more while Jed alternately paced and loomed over her, sometimes shouting loud enough that she winced at the sound, now and then murmuring so softly she could barely make out the words. Luckily, she had excellent hearing and managed to get down every whispered word he said. Already, it was something of a point of pride for her that she could keep up with him and never have to speak while at the keyboard, not even to ask him what he’d just said.
He finished the scene he’d tested her with the day before. Jack McCannon, Jed’s ongoing main character—and, Elise suspected, his alter ego—ended up killing the man at the station, whose name was Gray. Elise felt a moment’s pity for Gray, whom Jack eliminated through the clever use of a ballpoint pen to the throat. Jack, apparently, was quite creative vis-à-vis weaponry. He killed Gray with a Bic and kept fishing line in his pocket. Because who knew when he might need to tie someone up or strangle them with a makeshift garrote?
After Gray met his end, Jack evaded a pursuer and then met a contact at a café. They drank espresso and Jack received critical information stored in a minichip invisible to the naked eye. The contact, Lilias, caressed his face and transferred the minichip to his cheek. Lilias was gorgeous. Jack had history with her. Intimate history. Jack considered having sex with her again, but decided against it due to time constraints and the fact that he really didn’t trust her. The men Lilias slept with often turned up dead.
There was a scene at a shooting range. Jack was a crack shot. Who knew, right?
And, yes, already Elise found herself keeping up a snarky mental commentary on Jed’s work-in-progress as she typed away. The typing really was like breathing. She didn’t have to think about it. Even with the yelling alternating with growls and rumbles, she found Jed’s voice easy to sink into, as if she’d been listening to him all her life, as though some part of her mind knew what he would say before he formed the words. It left her the mental space to have a little fun at Jack McCannon’s expense.
Not that Jed wasn’t good at what he did. Now and then she got so involved she almost stopped typing to enjoy the story. The action scenes were spectacular—really edge-of-your-seat.
How many books had Jed written? Four or five, she thought she’d heard. Maybe she’d have to try the first one just for the heck of it. It wouldn’t hurt to have a little background on the job.
They worked until six thirty that evening. When Jed finally dismissed her, he stayed behind in the office to look over the day’s pages. She fed Wigs his dinner, raided the refrigerator and called Tracy in Seattle to see how she was settling in and report on her new job with Jed.
Tracy knew her too well. “But you hate typing,” she pointed out. “What is going on? I really don’t get this.”
“It’s amazing money and it’s only for four months.”
“But what about Bravo Catering?”
As she’d been doing for weeks now whenever she and Tracy talked, Elise evaded the question. “I’m getting there. This came up, is all. And I thought, for this much money, why not?”
Tracy wasn’t buying. “Just how broke are you? I can lend you—”
“Trace. Stop. It’s tight, but I’m managing.”
“I never should have left you.”
“Yes, you absolutely should have. It was time and you know it.” They’d grown up together, literally. Their mothers had been best friends. She and Tracy had shared the same playpen as babies. Then when Tracy’s parents died in a house fire, Tracy had moved in with the Bravos. In every way that counted, Elise and Tracy were sisters, bonded in the deepest way.
They’d gone to CU together and had come home to open their catering business and live in adjoining apartments. But Tracy had always been a science nerd and what she’d never told Elise was that her real dream had nothing to do with planning weddings, designing perfect dinner parties or creating tasty menus that stayed fresh on a steam table. Not until after the fire had Tracy finally confessed that she dreamed of a career in molecular biology.
Well, Tracy was getting her dream now. She’d enrolled in a master’s program at the University of Washington.
“I should come home, at least for a few weeks. The semester doesn’t start until mid-August.”
“Come home for what? Not to see me. I’ll be working six days a week, ten hours a day.”
“That’s insane.”
“Yeah, it is, a little. It’s also what I want. And I have to tell you, I’m damn good at it, too.”
Tracy laughed. “I thought you said this was your first day.”
“I have a talent for it. He went through a whole bunch of assistants before I came along. They couldn’t handle it. I can.”
“What’s he like?”
“Jed? Antisocial. Hates cats. Seems to know a lot about deadly weapons.”
“He sounds awful.”
“I’ll say this. He’s buff. Looks amazing
without his shirt.”
“I’m not even going to ask.”
“A wise decision.”
“You said he hates cats. How’s Mr. Wiggles taking that?”
“So far, I’ve managed to keep the two of them apart.”
“Leesie, I just feel bad about deserting you.”
“Don’t. I mean it. You didn’t desert me. I’m doing just fine. Now, tell me what’s going on with you.”
Tracy hesitated, but then she did confess that she’d met a guy she liked. On Friday they were going out to a great Greek restaurant and then to hear some hot Seattle band. She had her fall schedule worked out around the TA and lab-assistant jobs she’d found. She loved Seattle. It was her kind of city.
Elise hung up feeling good about her friend. Yes, she missed her. A lot. But it was about time Tracy came in to her own.
And so far, working with Jed wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it would be. She grabbed a sexy paperback and headed for the jetted tub.
* * *
Elise was waiting at the keyboard when Jed entered his office at 0830 the next morning. He felt a deep satisfaction just at the sight of her there, in knit pants that hugged her fine butt and curvy legs and a pale blue shirt that clung to her round breasts. They got right to work.
At a little before ten, the cat appeared. The thing was huge. It came and sat in the doorway to the office and watched him with unblinking eyes. Elise had her back to it and had no idea that the creature was there.
Well, fine. Let the cat stare. Jed went right ahead with the scene they were working on.
Eventually, the cat yawned, stretched and wandered off down the hall, its long, hairy tale twitching. Jed waited until they broke for lunch to tell Elise that the animal had gotten out.
She gasped. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“We were working,” he replied, though it should have been patently obvious to her.
“But I don’t get it. I’m sure I closed my door. How did he get out?”
“Why ask me? You think I left your door open?”
For that, he got a snippy little glare. She ran out calling, “Wigs! Come here, baby!”
Ms. Bravo and the Boss Page 3
