Lots of them.
In the meantime, for as long as he could, he’d keep her so distracted she’d forget that he was now the hunter, and she the hunted.
Hm. He liked the sound of that. Hunter. Yes, he was hunting...for love. Just shy of two days after meeting Brooke, he suspected she was the one woman he wouldn’t and couldn’t forget. And like any good hunter, he would use every call known to man to lure his game, including the most natural lure: sexual desire.
After tonight she’d left him in no doubt she was hot for him—almost as hot as he was for her.
He couldn’t wait to get burned.
****
Brooke had never been more miserable in her life.
She lay propped on her pillow in the bedroom, studying the far wall and wishing she had a stack of plates or a few cracked cups to chunk at it.
Okay, so she lied. She wanted a case of cups or several stacks of plates. More than a dozen. It scared her, this craving for the sound of shattering china.
He must hate her now.
Or worse, think she was the biggest tease in the entire world. He’d never know the truth; that it had taken an enormous amount of willpower to shove him away.
But how could she not? How could she risk pregnancy—or disease—after she’d pounded into Dee’s head the reminder a thousand times? She’d be worse than a hypocrite; she’d be a fool. Ten times more of a fool than Dee.
At least Dee professed to love Cliff, while she barely liked Alex. Lust, that was all it was and ever would be between them. She wasn’t naive enough to think a big man like Alex could be serious about someone like her—a lowly factory worker. He probably had tons of spoiled, gorgeous socialites lounging on his arm when he wasn’t getting kidnapped by one of his deranged supervisors.
Not that she wasn’t talented and special. Why, she possessed talents that would make Alex lift those beautiful, sexy black brows in surprise. Brooke scowled at the wall. As if he’d be impressed by her collection of condoms, or her talent for solving problems among her crew—which had gotten her the job as supervisor. He probably wouldn’t even be impressed by her ability to perform miracles under pressure, like the time Susannah Createn decided to have her third child right there on the floor of the factory. While everyone else had panicked and run in circles, she had calmly called the ambulance, then proceeded to deliver the baby that couldn’t wait.
The memory made her smile. Susannah had even named the baby after her, and still talked about the event as if Brooke had performed a miracle.
Brooke flopped onto her stomach and pressed her cheek against the musty-smelling pillow. She felt selfish and mean for leaving him in that—that gloriously aroused state. Worse, she was still aching as if she’d never experienced the most intense satisfaction in her life!
The plain fact was she’d wanted to feel him inside her in the worst way, wanted to hear him cry her name, growl with pleasure. Alex had done things to her she could scarcely recall now without blushing, yet she’d still wanted it all, every amazing, silken inch of him.
She’d been warned by the other women at the factory what abstinence could do to a person. Oh, she had certainly rued the day she’d confessed that she hadn’t had sex since her single, disappointing encounter in the back seat of a Thunderbird during her senior year of high school.
She’d kept her abstinence a secret until last year at the factory Christmas party. Tipsy from too much liquor-laced punch, she’d spilled the beans to her friends and co-workers and had regretted it ever since.
The women—mostly married or engaged—appalled and concerned by her confession, had decided to make Brooke their own special project by helping her get laid. Condoms had appeared in her purse, her pockets, and her car. Neon blue, hot pink, lime green...the list grew so endlessly that Brooke had decided to start a collection. It seemed such a waste to throw them away.
She never thought she’d use them, because the sad fact was she didn’t want to have sex. Most of the men she knew, she knew very well, like since childhood. The others were married or otherwise taken. And last but not least, she’d been determined to set a good example for her baby sister.
Then Kyle Lotus, the married, handsome plant manager who kept the married women sighing wistfully and the single ones hoping, got a divorce. He began to play the field, with Brooke being his first choice. Encouraged by her peers to give it a go, Brooke was at first flattered by her superior’s attention.
She agreed to go on a date with him.
One date turned into two, and two into several dozen. Just when Brooke began to relax and believe she’d found someone compatible—someone she might eventually want to develop an intimate relationship with—she found out he was also dating Connie Reeves.
And Dana Kilworth, and Sabrina Ann Hayes whom everyone knew enjoyed a variety of bed partners...
Brooke squeezed her eyes shut at the memory. It was her friends, gazing at her with open pity, that had been the ultimate humiliation. Her pride had suffered a rotten blow, slightly redeemed by the knowledge that she wasn’t in love with Kyle, wasn’t even all that attracted to him.
In fact, she couldn’t remember a single date when she’d been tempted to have sex with him, although he’d indicated a willingness from the get-go.
With Alex it was instantaneous, spontaneous, and mind-blowing from the moment they met. The embarrassing, humiliating part came later, after the searing fire died enough to let rational thought creep in.
Why Alex? He was her boss—just one of many reasons! Dating Kyle had taught her that dating the boss wasn’t a good idea. In fact, it was a rotten idea.
Not that Alex had said anything about dating. He hadn’t tried anything that subtle, and she wasn’t foolish enough to think he was interested in anything but sex.
The memory of his lovemaking shimmered over her. She tightened her arms around the pillow and tried not to imagine how the rest of it would have gone.
It was no use. She could think of little else.
****
In the wee hours of the morning, Alex awoke to the beep of his watch alarm. He tiptoed to the cell phone, unplugged it from the charger, and slipped outside. He wanted to make the call now because he didn’t know when he’d get the opportunity after Brooke awakened.
Gloria answered on the second ring, as if she’d been waiting for his call. Alex smiled faintly at the sound of her croaking, anxious voice.
“Gloria? It’s Alex—”
“Alex! Where in the heck are you? Are you all right? Oh, God, have they hurt you? I tried to convince those idiots you’ve been kidnapped, but they wouldn’t take me seriously!”
“Gloria—”
“I figured they’d just kill you to shut you up, maybe bury you some place out in those god-forsaken woods. But I guess those rats didn’t know that I knew what was going on, too!”
“Gloria, it’s not like—”
“How did you get away? Do they know you’re calling?” Alex heard Gloria suck in a horrified breath before she said, “They aren’t...they aren’t holding you hostage for money, are they? People like that are crazy, Alex, so you have to be careful! If they suspect that someone else knows what they’re up to, they might go ahead and kill you!”
Alex pinched the bridge of his nose and bowed his head. He let her ramble furiously for another moment before he broke in. “I haven’t been kidnapped, Gloria.”
“What?”
He imagined her surprised—and probably, if she were honest, slightly disappointed—expression. “I said, I have not been kidnapped.”
“Then—then why didn’t you call? And don’t you think you can fool me, Alex, I heard that woman talking in the background! Are they making you say this, Alex? If they are, just say yes.”
“No, nobody’s making me say anything. I’m free to go and do as I please, and I have not been kidnapped.” How many more times would he have to say it to convince her? “I haven’t called because my phone went dead and I couldn’t get to another pho
ne. Now, you have to notify the authorities and let them know that I’m not lost, and that I’d prefer to remain incognito in Quicksilver. Tell them—make them understand that I don’t want my cover blown.”
“Your cover blown?” Gloria squeaked. “Alex! You’re not a trained cop! You can’t just go around conducting secret investigations like—like—James Bond, or something! These people could be dangerous!”
Alex couldn’t resist a laugh, thinking of Brooke and her fake pistol. “They’re not dangerous, believe me.”
“Are you sure, Alex? Positively sure?”
“Positively sure, Gloria. I’ve got to go. I’ll try to keep in touch, but don’t panic if you don’t hear from me for a few days. I’ve found the perfect vacation spot near the factory, and I’ve got someone helping me investigate Daisy’s claim of an embezzling scheme.”
“Oh. You mean, the woman I heard in the background the last time you called?”
“Yes. She’s one of our supervisors.”
“Are you sure you can trust her, Alex?”
His hesitation lasted a nanosecond. “Yes. I’m sure.” No need to explain to Gloria about his threat of pressing charges, and of Brooke’s reluctance in the matter. Hopefully she’d come around. “Gloria...there’s a leak in the break room at the factory. I want you to get a crew on it Monday.”
“If you’re planning to remain incognito, won’t that make people suspicious?”
“If you get someone on this quickly, they’ll just assume I ordered the repairs before I disappeared.” Alex checked the front door before he continued. “Also, I want you and Derrick to go over the company handbook and get it updated ASAP. Tell him to use a boilerplate of our other factory handbooks.” Derrick was Gloria’s assistant, a sharp college graduate working his way up the corporate ladder. Gloria worked him relentlessly.
“Yes, sir, boss. Anything else?”
Alex stifled a sigh at her flippant tone. He supposed she deserved to be insubordinate after she’d spent the last forty-eight hours believing he’d been kidnapped. Twisting around, he eyed the back of Brooke’s dusty Pinto. “Yes, there is something else. Ask Derrick to call around to the salvage yards, see if he can find a set of hubcaps for a seventy-two model Ford Pinto.”
“Excuse me? Did you say hubcaps?”
Grinning at her squeaky tone, Alex said, “Yes, hubcaps. Used hubcaps, like the kind you see on automobiles. Originals.”
“For a Ford Pinto.”
“A seventy-two model Ford Pinto,” Alex corrected.
Silence reigned. His odd request had stunned his secretary, as he had known it would.
“Alex...are you okay? Are the headaches—”
“I haven’t had a headache since I arrived.” Well, maybe a small one, but that had gradually disappeared.
“Are you certain you’re okay? Is this—is this about the woman you’re with?”
Nothing subtle about Gloria, Alex mused dryly. He hesitated, but finally saw no harm in admitting the truth. “Yes, it’s about her. I like her.” Mild for what he really felt, but he didn’t have time to get into it now.
“Oh.”
Once again, he had stunned the unstunnable Gloria Coltrain. Chuckling, Alex promised to call her back in a day or two, and hung up. He flipped the phone shut and headed for the cabin. Curiosity would just about kill Gloria, but he figured he owed her one.
As he bounced up the steps, he sensed someone watching him. He glanced up to find Brooke standing in the doorway. She looked heavy-eyed from sleep and gloriously tousled, but there was nothing sleepy about the gaze focused on the boot he’d slipped the phone into seconds before.
Alex braced himself for the storm and tried to keep his eyes where they belonged—which was not on her agitated chest. She probably wouldn’t fold her arms like that, Alex found himself musing, if she knew what it did to him.
“You were on the phone.”
No doubt about it, she had seen him.
Chapter Seventeen
Brooke wasn’t certain if she should be furious at his deception, or elated.
She decided to be furious first—in case there was no reason to be elated. “Who were you talking to?”
Silhouetted by the rising sun, his expression remained frustratingly elusive as he finally lifted his gaze and leveled it on her face. “My secretary.”
A sprig of hope blossomed in Brooke’s breast. She moved a tiny step forward until she was in his shadow and didn’t have to squint to look at him. “So you’ve changed your mind?”
“No. Only Gloria knows where I am, and she’s not talking.”
That little sprig of hope shriveled and died. To hide her disappointment, she went back to being furious. She did it to keep herself in line; it certainly didn’t deter Alex! “What kind of man keeps a phone in his boot?”
His teeth flashed in an easy, boyish grin. “The kind that loses them?”
“You’re crazy,” Brooke muttered, wondering how long he’d been awake. Obviously he had slept long enough to look well-rested and hopelessly attractive.
“Maybe.” His gaze dropped along her body, leaving heat in its wake. When he finally looked at her again, his eyes had darkened, and his voice had deepened. “Maybe I am, at that.”
Brooke let out a disgusted sigh, moving her arms to cover the telltale points of her nipples. She didn’t normally need a bra, but lately she’d been needing one a lot. “Do you ever think about anything else?”
His gaze widened comically. “Is there anything else?”
“You sound like a teenager.”
“I feel like a teenager. You make me feel like one.”
Brooke tossed her head and shot him an exasperated look. “That’s the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Like hell.”
“Want me to show you?” He stepped forward.
She stepped backward—quickly. “No! What I want you to do is stop—stop—”
“Turning you on?”
“You’re not turning me on!”
“I’m not?”
Before she could back out of his way, he reached out and peeled her arms from her chest. He spread them wide. She knew without looking down that her nipples were hard and quivering.
“Hm.” He studied her breasts until they began to ache. “It’s about seventy-five degrees out here, so you can’t be cold...”
“Oh, shut up!” Brooke jerked her arms free and whirled away from him, breathing hard. This insanity had to stop. Either he stopped tormenting her, or she would gladly go to jail.
She rushed to the stove and began making coffee, mentally deciding which pan she’d use if he came after her. The iron skillet might cause too much damage, but the small, lightweight pot nestled inside it would do nicely. She grabbed the handle and banged it onto the stove top so that it would be within easy reach.
He’d had a cell phone all along! The realization made her seethe anew. If she had known about the phone, she could have called Dee the first night. Of course Dee wouldn’t have answered since she was off marrying Cliff, but Brooke might have figured things out a lot quicker if she had known Dee wasn’t home.
Then she wouldn’t have had to spend the night with her tormenting boss.
The sound of the bathroom door closing gave Brooke an opportunity to relax her vigil. When she heard the shower, she gave way and leaned against the counter, pressing her flushed, heated face into her palms. Again she asked herself why she fought it, and again she came up with ten good reasons not to sleep with Alex.
Jeopardize her integrity for a few moments of rapture? Nah. She was a grown woman, not a hormonally-charged teenager like she had accused Alex of resembling.
Risk getting fired when he finished with her, like she had been passed over for a promotion she deserved because Kyle was finished with her? Definitely not smart.
Take the chance on getting her heart broken?
Brooke paused over that one, letting her hands fall to her side
s. She stared out the little window above the sink at the placid lake beyond. Was this turning into more than just a physical attraction for her? If it was, then she was a bigger fool than she’d first thought.
To fall in love with a successful, drop-dead gorgeous man like Alex would take enormous courage, and courage wasn’t something she had in abundance—when it came to romance.
“I’m hungry. How about you?”
At the sound of his voice, Brooke gave a start. She hadn’t heard the shower stop or the bathroom door opening, she’d been so immersed in her thoughts. Slowly, she turned around and feasted her eyes on the sight of his damp chest and wet hair.
As usual, he’d read her mind.
****
They ate breakfast on the back patio overlooking the lake, at a small table her daddy had taken such pleasure in making. He’d built houses for a living, but making furniture had been his true love. He’d talked of pursuing the hobby when he retired...
Brooke swallowed a pang of loss along with the last bite of her western omelette. She flashed the man seated opposite her a disgruntled glance he couldn’t fail to miss.
“You don’t like my cooking?”
“It was delicious,” she snapped ungraciously. And it was, which was the problem. There were too many attractive things about Alex Bradshaw. And now she had discovered that he could cook. “Is there anything you don’t know how to do?”
“Is there anything that doesn’t make you angry?” he returned pleasantly, smearing another slice of toast with the homemade orange marmalade Brooke had found in the pantry.
Her mother had loved to can jellies, preserves, pickles, and all sorts of colorful relishes she gave away at Christmas. Brooke blinked the blur from her eyes and straightened her spine. She shouldn’t have come here, knowing the painful reminders would be all around her.
“Would you mind telling me what you know about the other supervisors? That is, if it doesn’t make you angry...”
Brooke made a face at him, pulling her gaze away from the strong, tanned column of his throat. “Why should I mind ratting on my friends and co-workers? I’ve only known them most of my life. Went to school with them, shared their joys and their sorrows, listened to their problems—”
A Perfect Fit Page 13
