by Lisa Crane
“Try to stay out of trouble till I get back, would ya, Bunny-girl?” he teased.
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Riley promised laughingly.
When the door swung shut behind Travis, Brooke looked at Riley, one brow arched pointedly, and said, “I rest my case.”
“What?”
“I’m a – a stray puppy to him. He might as well have patted me on the head.”
“Brooke –“ Riley began, but Brooke held up a hand to stop him.
“Can we discuss something else?” she asked. “The weather? The price of dog biscuits in Newfoundland?”
“Fine,” Riley said, nodding. He pointed at Brooke. “But I reserve the right to say ‘I told you so’ at some point in the future.”
“Whatever.”
Travis left the bakery and drove toward the building that housed Parker Financial. A little grin played about his mouth as he remembered the look on his neighbor’s face when he’d turned and caught her looking at him. He sobered some when he remembered the willowy redhead who’d come into the bakery.
Travis dated Lorna Morgan the last time he’d been home between tours overseas. She was a smart, successful woman, and beautiful, as well. Lorna had actually done some modeling when she was much younger, but after college, decided it wasn’t for her. Travis had met her through one of his sisters, and he and Lorna had hit it off right away. When he’d gone back to the Middle East, Travis had told Lorna she should date other people; while Travis liked her, he didn’t feel their relationship was such that he could expect her to sit home waiting for him. Now, as a result of their meeting in the bakery, he had a date with her this Friday night; Lorna had done the asking.
Travis thought again of Brooke Valentine. He couldn’t help but compare her to Lorna. Lorna was tall and willowy; Brooke was more petite and curvy. Lorna always looked as if she’d stepped from the pages of a fashion magazine; Brooke wore faded jeans and tee shirts, minimal makeup and usually had her dark hair pulled back into a carefree, messy ponytail. Lorna was a successful attorney; Brooke had recently been fired from a greasy spoon and a hot dog stand. Lorna was the kind of woman who knew how to make a man feel needed and strong; Brooke Valentine fought Travis every step of the way when he tried to do anything nice for her. There really was no comparison between the two women.
Chapter 16
After lunch, but before his scheduled meeting with Riley Parker and Jazz Valenzuela, Travis decided to call the number Brooke had given him. She’d assured him Blair Carlyle would be the perfect assistant. Travis dialed the number and listened to it ring on the other end. A soft, feminine voice answered.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Ms. Carlyle?” Travis queried.
“Yes?” she said uncertainly.
“Ms. Carlyle, my name is Travis Cooper. Brooke Valentine gave me your number. I’m looking for an assistant, and she seems to think you’d be a good fit.”
“Oh! Of course, she told me about you!” Blair Carlyle said. “Yes, I’m very interested in meeting with you to discuss the position, Mr. Cooper.”
“Travis, please,” he said. “I’d like to meet with you as well. What’s your schedule like over the next day or so?”
“Actually, I’m free right now,” she answered. “I don’t work until this evening. Other than that, I have commitments until Thursday.”
Travis determined they were both within a few minutes of a Starbucks. Blair laughingly pointed out that one was nearly always minutes away from a Starbucks. They agreed to meet in twenty minutes, Blair promising to bring a copy of her résumé.
Travis spotted Blair Carlyle right away when she entered the coffee shop. She was a pretty blonde, very professionally dressed, a burgundy leather portfolio tucked under one arm. Travis rose and waved her over. She seated herself, and in answer to Travis’ offer of a drink, requested a latte; it wasn’t just a latte, however, and Travis wasn’t sure he could remember all the ‘no fat, half-caff’ designations that went with it. He went to the counter and ordered Blair’s drink, hoping he got it right.
As he waited for her latte, Travis observed Blair. She wore a navy blue suit with a pale pink blouse. On her feet she wore a pair of beige pumps with very pointy toes; Travis wondered why a woman would buy shoes in that color, and with a shape like those. Did women really think men liked that look? Or did they care?
“Here you go, sir!” the chipper little barista said, handing him a cup.
Travis carried the drink back to the table. He sat across from Blair and accepted the résumé she handed him. He skimmed over it, noting the degree Brooke had mentioned, as well as the impressive list of jobs Blair Carlyle had apparently held during college.
“So what, exactly, is the position you’re looking to fill, Travis?” Blair asked. “Brooke and I haven’t really talked, since she got fired.”
The blonde smirked a little, and Travis felt a little twinge of annoyance. He gave Blair a polite smile.
“I need an assistant,” he answered. “I run a security business. We offer everything from computer security to bodyguards. Right now, it’s officed out of my house, but I plan to build a small office eventually. I’ve been keeping up with all the paperwork, including payroll, myself, but it’s beginning to take on a life of its own, and I need someone I can hand that off to, along with some other duties. Does that sound like something you might be interested in, Ms. Carlyle?”
“Please, call me Blair,” she said. “And yes, I’d definitely be interested.” She tilted her head slightly. “Brooke mentioned you’re neighbors? So your office would be next door?” She gave another little smile that was more of a smirk. “Funny.”
“How so?” Travis asked curiously, his face passive.
“Well, you know,” Blair said. “You’re obviously a professional business individual.” She smiled, one brow arched. “You own your own business, and based on that suit, I’d say you’re successful at what you do.” Her look was admiring. “And Brooke is…well, Brooke. Let’s just say she fit right in at the diner, if you know what I mean.”
“I believe I do know what you mean,” Travis replied. It was his turn to tilt his head a bit. “I thought you and Brooke were friends.”
“Oh, well, sure!” Blair answered. “We’re just very different, you know? I’m a college degree, Brooke is a waitress – or she was. I’m tall, blonde and fashionable, Brooke is dumpy and plain and dressed in thrift-store bargains.”
Travis couldn’t believe what he was hearing; Brooke had made it a point to set this up for Blair and the other woman was sitting across the table bad-mouthing her! Travis dropped his gaze back to Blair’s résumé, knowing he had no intention of hiring her now.
“So what would you like to know about me, Travis?” Blair asked now.
“Actually, I think I know enough to say this wouldn’t be a good fit.”
“What?” She was clearly stunned. “How can you say that? You haven’t even asked me about my experience or anything!”
“Everyone I employ is one-hundred percent loyal,” Travis answered. He stood, pulling on his black overcoat. “If you’d say the things you’ve said about Brooke when her first thought was giving you this opportunity, I’d have to say you’re not a very loyal person. In fact, I’d have to say you’re not even a very nice person, Ms. Carlyle. Brooke deserves better.”
“Well, I didn’t know you were involved with her!” Blair sputtered.
Travis didn’t even bother to respond. He leaned over and slid the résumé across the table to Blair. Without another word, he left the coffee shop. He slid behind the wheel of his Hummer and looked at his watch. The interview hadn’t taken as much time as he’d expected, but it wasn’t too early to head to the bakery for his meeting with Riley and Jazz; he could always have another pastry while he waited.
As he drove, Travis thought about Blair Carlyle’s comparison of herself to Brooke Valentine. He’d done the same thing that morning, matching Brooke against Lorna Morgan. So why had it made him so
angry when Blair did it? A sudden memory came to him from his childhood.
Travis was about seven years old and was tagging along with his older sisters. They walked to a nearby park where several of his sisters’ friends were already waiting. One pimply-faced boy draped an arm casually over the shoulders of Travis’ oldest sister, Tracey; he sneered at Travis.
“Why’d you bring him?” the boy asked.
“He wanted to come,” Tracey answered, shrugging.
“Just because the little twerp wanted to come didn’t mean you had to bring him,” the boy argued. “You shoulda left the little pest at home.”
“You shut up!” Tracey had snapped. “Don’t you call him a twerp! Or a pest!”
“You call him stuff like that all the time!” the boy said defensively.
“The difference is, I love him, you idiot!”
Tracey had jumped off the bench, pushing the boy’s arm away. She took Travis by the hand and pulled him away, ignoring the teenage boy’s calls to come back. Tracey stopped to buy Travis an ice cream cone from a cart; she handed the treat to him and ruffled his hair, smiling down at him.
“You may be a pest and a twerp,” she said. “But you’re my pest and twerp, and nobody else can call you that!”
Now, years later, Travis suddenly understood. He’d only known Brooke a little over a week, but he cared about her and didn’t want anyone else saying hateful things about her. So she wasn’t his “type”, and didn’t really compare to a woman like Lorna; she was a sweet woman, and obviously very compassionate to have cared for her grandfather during his illness. Travis had meant it when he told Blair Carlyle Brooke deserved better.
Travis parked in front of Babycakes. He sat there for a moment, shaking off the remains of his anger. He lifted the bag containing his laptop and got out of his truck. The little bell over the door announced his arrival. Brooke looked up from her task of sliding a tray of pumpkin bread and spice cake into the display case. Travis grinned at her as she straightened.
“You’re just like a bad penny, aren’t you?” Brooke asked dryly.
“Yup,” he answered. “You’re stuck with me, unless you move in the near future!”
“Hey, did you hear anything from your friend about my car?”
“No, but I’ll call him right now.”
Travis seated himself at a table near the window. As he dialed, Brooke pulled some cookies from the display; she placed them on a small plate and set the plate in front of Travis. Without a word, she walked away from him, unaware that his eyes followed her as she returned to the kitchen. Jazz, however, noted the steady blue gaze that watched the subtle sway of Brooke’s hips and she smiled; her smile widened when Travis realized she’d seen him watching Brooke.
When the bakery closed, it was Brooke’s turn to wait for Travis as he met with Jazz and Riley, discussing options for a security system. She busied herself by climbing up on the step stool and organizing the higher shelves. She knew neither Jazz nor Riley had time to accomplish some of the more mundane tasks at the bakery before they’d hired her, and she was happy to do so now.
Travis, on the other hand, was not happy when he emerged from the office with Riley and Jazz; the three of them stood looking up at Brooke who stood on her tiptoes on the top step of the stool. Travis frowned up at her.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.
Brooke let out a tiny squeak. She wobbled a little. Travis put up a hand to steady her; the only place he could reach was her rear end. A large warm hand on the curve of her behind rattled Brooke so she jerked and wobbled even more on her precarious perch. Travis caught her when she fell, holding her against his broad chest for a moment before setting her on her feet. Brooke immediately pushed out of his arms.
“Why did you do that?” she asked, glaring at him, her violet eyes like a stormy sky.
“What, catch you before you hit the floor?” Travis asked, returning her frown, his blue eyes flashing.
“I wouldn’t have fallen if you hadn’t groped my behind!”
“I wouldn’t have groped your behind if you hadn’t been on your tiptoes on the top step of that stool!” he snapped. “And for the record, I didn’t grope your behind, Brooke! I barely touched you!”
Riley and Jazz couldn’t stand it any longer; they both burst out laughing, Jazz leaning against Riley for support. Brooke and Travis both turned their dark looks on the couple before them. Riley recovered first, wiping a hand across his eyes and taking a deep breath.
“You two really need to take that show on the road!” he chuckled.
“It’s like having our own little sitcom here in the bakery!” Jazz added, still giggling. “You two are hilarious!”
“I was just trying to keep her from falling!” Travis muttered.
“Uh-huh,” Riley said nodding. His grin still stretched from ear to ear. He chuckled again before speaking. “Why don’t you two get outta here? Jazz and I will lock up and be out the door right behind you.” He looked at Brooke. “See you in the morning at six, Brooke. And Travis, we’ll see you – or one of your employees – tomorrow as well, right?”
“Yes,” Travis agreed after a moment. “I’ll just bring everything I need when I bring Brooke to work.”
“You two have a good evening,” Jazz said, a knowing smile on her face. As soon as the bakery door closed behind Brooke and Travis, she smiled up at Riley. “He’s in so much trouble, and he doesn’t even know it, does he?”
“Not a clue,” Riley agreed, pulling her into his embrace. “He has no idea how hard he’s about to fall!”
Chapter 17
Travis was very aware of his awkwardness as he tried to help Brooke up into his Hummer. He knew her leg was much better, but given her diminutive size, coupled with the height of his truck, which was higher than the average Hummer was, he worried about her reinjuring her leg. He tried for a moment to figure out what to do with his hands; it was absurd, really, because he’d helped her into his vehicle several times now, simply placing his hands at her waist and lifting her up. Now, suddenly, he felt like an idiot. Or worse, a creep like Mike Schmidt!
“Brooke, wait,” Travis said finally. “Let me help you up.”
Once again, Travis put his hands on her waist. He easily lifted her up to the passenger seat and closed the door. As he walked around the Hummer, he wondered why Blair Carlyle thought Brooke Valentine was “dumpy”. No, Brooke wasn’t tall and willowy like the blonde, or Lorna; but beneath her faded jeans and the sweatshirt she wore today, Travis could easily feel Brooke’s curves. Not fat, just curves. Very nice, very feminine curves. Travis shook the thought from his mind as he climbed behind the steering wheel. He turned and looked at Brooke.
“You know that was an accident, right?” Travis asked. “My touching you like that. I was just afraid you’d fall.”
“Of course I know that!” Brooke said. Her expression implied she thought the question was slightly crazy. “I saw the woman who came in the bakery this morning, Travis. I’m not an idiot, you know. I know a guy like you wouldn’t be interested in a woman like…I know I’m not your type.”
“My type?” Travis echoed incredulously. “And a guy like me? What does that mean?”
In the back of his mind, an irritating little voice reminded Travis that twice today he’d compared Brooke with two tall, slender professional women. The little voice reminded him that every woman he’d ever dated had been tall, cool, slender, self-possessed and fashionable. Travis wanted that little voice to shut up. He waited for Brooke to answer his questions. She gave a little shrug, a restless movement of her shoulders.
“Your type?” she queried. She began to list the very qualities the little voice in his head had done. “Tall, model-thin, gorgeous, successful, confident. Pretty much the anti-Brooke.”
“The anti-Brooke?” Travis repeated, his voice hard. Brooke shrugged again, her eyes on the windshield in front of her, even though the vehicle hadn’t moved yet. “And what did you mean, a g
uy like me?”
“Travis, come on,” Brooke said, sounding tired suddenly. “Is this really necessary right now?”
“Yes. Yes, I think it is.” Travis turned in his seat so that he fully faced Brooke. With one hand, he gripped her chin gently and forced her to look at him. “What did you mean, Brooke? What kind of man do you think I am?”
“Travis, do you not see yourself in the mirror every day?” Brooke asked. “Do you not see women looking at you when you walk past? You’re gorgeous, exactly the kind of man who’d date women like that redhead this morning! Or Blair! You’ll see when you meet her! She looks like a blonde version of the redhead!”
After a long moment, Travis removed his hand from Brooke’s chin. He turned back in his seat and started the engine. Without another word, he backed out of the space in front of the bakery and drove away.
Inside the bakery, Riley pulled a dollar from his wallet and handed it to his wife. Jazz grinned unrepentantly. Riley shook his head.
“I just knew he was going to kiss her!” he said. “How did he miss that chance? It was perfect! She was angry, he was embarrassed – you saw the look on his face, right? When he put his hand up to steady her?”
“I did,” Jazz nodded, tucking the dollar bill into the pocket of her tunic. “But I think, as you pointed out, that he’s fighting it. He’s not ready to see our little Brooke in that way.” She smiled and kissed her husband. “And you should know better than to bet against me when romance is involved!”
The silence in Travis’ vehicle was broken when Brooke asked, “So my car?”
“Oh!” Travis said. “Yeah. Brooke, someone disconnected your battery cables. Both of them, so it wasn’t an accident.”
“You’re saying somebody did it on purpose?” she asked, frowning. “But who in the world would do something like that? And for what purpose?”
“You can’t think of anyone, Brooke?” Travis asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Someone who, in your own words, spent several hours ogling you? The same someone who just happened to show up when you needed a ride?”
