The bed was empty, the covers bunched as if the sleeper had suffered a restless night, and on top of the blanket he spotted Brooke’s jacket. So, she’d finally taken it off. Somewhere—close, he hoped—Brooke was walking around with her shoulders finally bared for his view. Buoyant at the thought of seeing her again, Alex returned to his makeshift bed and pulled on his boots. He grabbed his shirt and headed for the front door.
It was just as he suspected, a gorgeous day without a rain cloud in sight. Not that he would have minded the rain. Hell, he didn’t care if it snowed, as long as he wasn’t in the city. This was an ideal vacation spot, surrounded by nature, and with the prospect of seeing Brooke again, Alex couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be right now.
And for the first time in months, he hadn’t awakened with a headache.
Filled with this amazing revelation, he loped off the steps, following the strange thunk-thunking sound to the back yard.
What he saw when he rounded the corner of the cabin stopped him in his tracks.
It was Brooke, and she was chopping wood with an angry desperation that he could almost feel. Slowly, he approached her, but wisely kept clear of the swing of the axe. Beyond her, a small, private lake sparkled beneath the morning sun. A family of ducks swam close to shore, four quacking ducklings swimming frantically to keep up. The silver flash of a fish caught the sunlight as it leaped over the surface.
Thunk! The blade sheered the piece of wood in two before lodging in the tree stump. Brooke yanked it loose with impressive strength, swept the split wood from the stump and quickly reached for another log.
Alex waited until the blade was once again safely lodged in the stump before he asked, “What are you doing?”
She froze with her back to him, shoulders rigid. “I’m baking chocolate chip cookies,” she growled in a nasty tone that definitely alerted him to her current mood.
As if he hadn’t guessed by the maniacal way she swung the axe! From the looks of her sweat-soaked body, she’d been at it a while, too. “Looks like you’re chopping wood. Mind if I ask why? There’s a good supply piled beside the cabin.”
He wished she’d look at him. Maybe if he could see her expression, he could glean a clue or two about what was bugging her. Could she possibly still be upset about last night? Granted, he’d maybe gone over the line with that last kiss, but could he help it if she was irresistible?
She lifted the axe, and just as she brought it crashing down onto the hapless piece of wood, she ground out viciously, “I’m chopping wood because I don’t want to break Daddy’s dishes. They aren’t much, but it just didn’t seem right.”
Ah, that explained...absolutely nothing. Before she could reach for another log from the pile, Alex handed her one. Without looking at him she snatched it from his fingers and slammed it onto the stump.
“Something tells me you’re angry.”
Alex had no difficulty identifying the snarl that emerged from her very kissable mouth.
“How astute of you,” she hissed, still swinging and chopping, swinging and chopping.
Perplexed, Alex propped his hands on his hips, wishing she’d pause long enough to talk to him face to face. But then again, maybe it wouldn’t be such a good idea for her to get a good look at him at the moment. He seemed to have little control over his libido where she was concerned—especially when she made those sexy growling noises in her throat. “Look, if you’re angry about last night, I’ll apologize—”
“If I’m angry?” And finally, she did look at him, eyes blazing, lips quivering with fury. Tendrils of damp, sweat-soaked hair clung her to flushed cheeks. She wore a white T-shirt beneath her denim jumper, and it, too, was sweat-soaked and plastered to the curvy mounds of her heaving breasts.
Alex shifted uncomfortably. It was a dangerous time to get aroused, but this little spitfire could do it to him in no time flat.
“You—,” she jabbed a very sharp axe in his direction—”let me believe all night that you were my sister’s worthless, womanizing boyfriend!”
So the cat was out of the bag, Alex mused, thinking fast. “You’ve talked to your sister?”
Eyes that reminded him of hot caramel narrowed, but Alex knew it had nothing to do with the bright morning sun. This little warrior was on the warpath, so to speak.
She ignored his question. “Why? Why would you let me suffer like that? What kind of—of beast are you? I’ve been flogging myself since you first—first—”
“Kissed you?” Alex supplied helpfully.
“Yes! Then I felt so guilty I wanted to just die because—because—”
“You wanted me?”
“Yes!” she cried, then snapped her teeth together so hard he heard the sound. She sucked in a sharp, horrified breath, causing her breasts, outlined by the wet T-shirt, to swell above the v-neck of the jumper. “You jerk!” she spat accusingly. “You cruel...insufferable...insane maniac!”
“Insane?” Alex asked, offended. Insane for wanting her? Was that what she meant? Surely she was aware of her considerable appeal.
Brooke embedded the axe into the stump in one swift, agitated move. She stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at him. “Yes, insane! I think you actually enjoyed being kidnapped, so you have to be crazy.”
With the axe safely out of her hands, Alex took a chance on stepping closer. Softly, he asked, “What man wouldn’t enjoy being kidnapped by a beautiful woman?”
“You were never frightened,” she stated almost wearily.
Alex decided a little white lie wouldn’t hurt—to protect her pride. “Of course I was, um, cautious when I thought you had a gun. But the attraction that has been growing between us soon made me forget about being afraid.”
“There is no attraction between us!”
He smiled at her hot denial, and dropped his gaze to the tell-tale points clearly outlined by her jumper. “I think the lady protests too much,” he murmured. “Maybe a little reminder—”
“No, don’t!” She put up a hand to ward him off. “Don’t you take another step. I’m—I’m hot and sweaty and—”
“Keep going,” he murmured.
“Still furious with you! So back off! I’ll—I’ll just go inside and take a shower, then take you back to town.” Her mouth firmed and her chin came up in a now familiar way. “You go your way and I’ll go mine, and we’ll just forget this ever happened.”
Alex let her take a few steps in the direction of the cabin before he stopped her with a softly drawled, “Oh, I don’t think so.”
She paused, her back rigid. “Why not?”
“Because I think I deserve a little compensation. After all, I’ve been kidnapped, threatened, and verbally abused.” All of which he’d thoroughly enjoyed, and most of which she knew. Still, kidnapping was kidnapping.
With an audible hiss, she whirled around to face him again. “You plan to press charges?”
“That depends.” He paused, drawing his gaze along her tense form, then back to her taut face and glittering eyes. Her breath had quickened, he noted with inward satisfaction. “On your cooperation,” he finished.
****
Thirty minutes later, Brooke emerged from a cold shower, furious to realize the frigid water had not cooled anything but her skin, and then only for a brief time.
She still wanted to jump his bones.
With a tiny moan, she buried her face in the damp towel. How could she still want to have sex with him even after finding out he wasn’t Cliff? He was her boss, a man she had good reason to dislike, and he had just moments ago issued an ultimatum that was nothing short of blackmail.
Her bluff hadn’t worked. She was fairly certain that he didn’t know that she knew who he really was, but him not knowing hadn’t helped her get out of this ridiculous situation. Her plan had been to get him back to town and, as quickly as possible, part ways. Then, later, when he came to inspect the factory she would act totally surprised—and mortified—to discover he was the very man she’d kidnapped.
&nbs
p; If he were any kind of gentleman, he would have gone along with her plan out of sheer decency.
But no, he wasn’t a gentleman, and she was the crazy one for thinking for one moment that her weak, pathetic little plan would work. He was a man, and he’d made it extremely clear that he wanted compensation.
A hot thrill set fire to her belly. Brooke clutched her arms over it, hoping to put out the flames before they spread.
It didn’t work. Every time she thought about Alex she got an itch between her legs. It was a new and frightening—and appalling—experience for her. Bad enough she’d felt this way thinking he was Dee’s boyfriend, but just as bad when she knew he was her boss!
The really sucky part was that since finding out he wasn’t Cliff, it had gotten worse. For the first time in her life she wanted to jump into bed with a man because she wanted to have hot, raw, unbridled sex.
Brooke let out a long, shaky sigh and released her death-hold on the towel. Okay. So she wanted to get hot and wild with Alex just as much as he indicated he wanted to get hot and wild with her, which would make her a flagrant hypocrite if she didn’t stop protesting like an outraged Victorian virgin.
So why didn’t she just do it? She was a consenting adult with a normal, healthy sex drive—or at least she had one now—so why not just get it over with? Get it out of her system? Scratch the itch? That it would be the most memorable experience of her life, she had no doubt. Any man that could reduce her to a cowardly, trembling heap hiding in the bathroom would undoubtedly rock her world.
Afterward—if she didn’t die from pleasure—they could then put this silly thing about kidnapping and mistaken identity behind them. They could go their separate ways, and when they did meet again, perhaps they’d share a smile, maybe a laugh or two, then forget about it. It would be their little secret, one she could dwell on from time to time in the privacy of her own bedroom.
Thoughtfully, Brooke rose and dropped the towel, reaching for the denim shorts she’d found in the bedroom drawer. They were DeeDee’s, left from long ago, but since Dee then was the size Brooke was now, they thankfully fit. The faded, oversized T-shirt that had belonged to her dad nearly touched the hem of her shorts, but at least the clothes were clean.
Without panties, the rough denim material brushed against an area that had become embarrassingly sensitive in the past fourteen hours. She tugged at the hem of her shorts, ran her fingers through her short wet hair, and took a deep breath.
It was time to face the music. With any luck, they could have a hot, very satisfying tumble on the bed and be back in town by noon. After that she planned to find Dee and force her to listen to the longest lecture in history about responsibilities and leaving older sisters in very sticky situations.
Brooke’s hand trembled as she grasped the doorknob. Doubts assailed her. What was she doing? What was she thinking? Was she seriously considering having a meaningless, one-night—one hour—stand with Alex Bradshaw, the hotshot, selfish boss who cared about no one but himself? The fact that he would blackmail her proved the rumors about him were true! He was ten times worse than Kyle, who was fast making his rounds of the female employees at the factory.
But to compare Alex to Kyle was like comparing Mel Gibson to Pee-Wee Herman, Brooke mused. Besides, no one would have to know. In fact, she would die if they found out she had consorted with the enemy. The workers under her supervision, mostly women, would never trust her again. They’d regard her with disgust and suspicion, and with good reason.
But this wasn’t business. This was personal.
Brooke placed her hand over her quivering middle and opened the door.
Chapter Ten
Alex stared after Elijah long after he’d disappeared down the trail, pondering the enlightening conversation that had just taken place. Absently, he retrieved his cell phone from beneath the Pinto and strapped it into his boot.
The elderly man had come to plead Brooke’s case, unwittingly revealing several interesting facts; Brooke not only knew he wasn’t Dee’s boyfriend, she knew he was Alex Bradshaw and, according to Elijah, she feared he was going to haul her before the sheriff on kidnapping charges. Almost as an afterthought—and quite contrarily—Elijah warned Alex to ‘watch his back,’ that Brooke hadn’t been herself since her folks died. “Brooklyn’s keepin’ it bottled up inside, and one of these days I’m afraid she’s going to blow!”
Interesting. Very interesting.
Why didn’t she tell him? he wondered. What possible motive could she have for keeping silent about knowing who he was? Embarrassment? Likely, and understandable. Fear? Alex frowned, then shook his head. No, despite what Elijah said, he couldn’t imagine the little fireball fearing anything. Oh, he believed she feared what he made her feel, but not him physically.
She could fear losing her job, something he could well understand. And she should fear it, he thought. Why, most men in his position would probably declare her a lunatic and fire her on the spot. They would believe her unstable, and he should, as well.
But he didn’t. This wasn’t an ordinary, well-thought-out kidnapping, and Alex knew it. Brooke had been trying to protect her kid sister—a sister she’d taken care of since her parents’ death. He might very well have done the same in her shoes. No, Brooke wasn’t dangerous—as Elijah subtly implied. Fiercely protective better described Brooke. Passionately loyal, too. As a business man, Alex could admire these traits in his employees.
But then, there were a lot of things he admired about Brooke Welch. Alex jerked his mind from the gutter and concentrated on the big question.
Why didn’t she tell him she knew? Could it have anything to do with what was supposedly going on at the factory? Alex hated to return to his earlier suspicions, but he knew that he couldn’t discount them just because he was in lust with Brooke. He was here on a rat hunt, and if Brooke turned out to be one of those rats...then he would deal with it. He’d be disappointed, true, but he was a practical man.
And if it turned out that she had nothing to hide, well, then, she might be useful in helping him find out who did. Meanwhile, he could relax right here at the cabin for as long as it took. Combining business with pleasure had never sounded better.
Now that Alex had a plan, he was ready for action. He headed into the cabin in search of Brooke. A quick glance into the small bathroom where she’d been taking a shower proved it empty, but a slight rustling noise to the right drew him to the open doorway of the bedroom.
She was making the bed, and the enticing sight of the bottom her shorts did little to hide was enough to erase every logical thought in his brain. If my doctor could see me now, he mused, catching himself just before he dribbled on his shirt.
With a bemused shake of his head, he knocked lightly on the open door. She jumped and swung around, a hand to her heart.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said with a shaky, sexy little laugh.
Alex lifted an eyebrow, fighting a wicked urge to tumble her onto the bed and destroy her hard work. “You were expecting someone else?”
“N—no. Just you.”
Intrigued by the genuine blush that crept slowly into her cheeks, Alex advanced into the room and grabbed the edge of the quilt. With a nervous glance in his direction, she allowed him to help her spread the quilt.
“Thanks,” she said softly, casting him another one of those shy, mysterious glances.
“No problem.” Something had changed, Alex thought, wishing he knew what the hell it was. She wasn’t acting like...Brooke. Instead, she was being nice and almost...coy?
They both reached for the pillows on the floor. Their heads collided with a solid thunk. With a rueful laugh, she held her hand to her head, brushing his concerns aside.
“I’m fine, really. You’ve got a hard, um, head.”
When her gaze dropped slowly and deliberately to another part of him that was definitely hard, that elusive something became crystal clear.
Brooke was coming on to him. Brooke, of the sarcastic wit and th
e volatile temper...was flirting with him, and as with everything else she did, she did it with an energy and vengeance that stole his breath.
As the realization reached his groin and knocked another inch into his arousal, Alex held his breath and waited for her wandering gaze to come back to his face.
It took a breathtakingly long time. So long, in fact, that Alex feared his jeans would bust wide open. And when she did finally look at him again, her eyes fairly shimmered with heat. An invitation had never been so honest, so open.
The bed was there, ready and waiting, and if he read the signs right, so was Brooke Welch. Alex was struck dumb for a moment. Granted, it was a long moment, one in which he considered staying that way until he’d slaked his thirst on the sexiest woman he’d ever had the pleasure of bumping into.
Then he could think about why she’d changed her mind.
But there was one tiny working brain cell left, and that brain cell popped the intrusive question into his mind before he wanted it to—before he eagerly shucked his clothes and hers too.
Why had she changed her mind? He’d love to think it had nothing to do with her finding out who he was, but Alex didn’t get to be the business shark he was by wearing rose-colored glasses and thinking with a hard-on.
So it was with deep regret that Alex stated hoarsely, “You know who I am.”
Her eyes changed in a heartbeat. The words ‘flash freeze’ came to Alex’s mind. He’d always wondered how it was done; now he knew. For a split-second, he considered that she hadn’t known his identity.
“You had to go and do it,” she breathed. The delectable mounds of her breasts rose as she gathered another mouthful of scorching words. “You just had to go and screw things up!”
Alex was beyond baffled over her reaction. “All I said was—”
“Don’t say it! Do not say it again. You’ve already ruined everything.”
“What in the hell are you talking about?” Alex demanded, growing angry himself. He hated being in the dark, and it was pitch black right now inside his brain. The woman made absolutely no sense at all. Ruined what, for Christ’s sake! Ruined her plans to file a sexual harassment suit against him? Ruined her plans to cry rape? Was this what her come-on was all about?
A Perfect Fit Page 8
