Brandon started down the wide, carpeted stairway, each step thudding in an angry cadence directed at himself.
He should be shot at dawn, he mentally fumed. Strung up by the thumbs. Tarred and feathered. Run out of town on a rail.
Where was his brain? His sense of right and wrong? He was the proprietor of a hotel, who had blatantly kissed one of the guests without her permission. Cripe, he was probably staring at a lawsuit that would wipe him out financially. One kiss and he would now be rendered a moneyless derelict, living on the streets of Prescott.
Brandon stopped on the landing of the third floor and dragged both hands down his face.
Andrea Cunningham had pushed his macho buttons, and he’d behaved like a Neanderthal. For reasons he couldn’t fathom, her dismissal of the fiery attraction between them had ignited his fury. He’d become blindly determined to prove her ridiculous theory wrong.
So, he’d kissed her.
With a shake of his head, Brandon resumed his plodding trek down the stairs.
That kiss, he mused, had been sensational. Desire, hot and heavy and coiling, had exploded within him like a rocket. He’d been consumed by it, and had come very close to losing total control.
Brandon narrowed his eyes.
That reaction, by damn, had been mutual. Andrea had returned the kiss in heated abandon.
What did that mean? Why hadn’t she shoved him away, smacked him right across the face, then hollered the roof down?
Hell, he didn’t know what had gone on in Andrea’s mind when he’d kissed her, nor what she might be thinking now that she was alone. Women were so complicated, he wouldn’t live long enough to understand any of them.
The question at hand was... now what?
What should he do, say, how should he act, the next time he saw Andrea?
Maybe he should just wait and see, take his cue from her. That seemed like a very good idea, since he was messing up royally when left to his own devices.
“You’re such an idiot, Hamilton,” he muttered as he reached the lobby.
Jennifer smiled at Brandon when he returned to the registration desk.
“Did you get Andrea all taken care of?” she said.
“In a manner of speaking,” he said gruffly.
Jennifer frowned. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing. Would you have some soup and a sandwich sent up to Andrea in about an hour?”
“Yes, but—” Jennifer glanced at her watch “—it’s getting late. Don’t you think Andrea will be ready for a full dinner?”
“Good thought.”
“Why don’t you call her and ask if she’d like dinner sent up, or if she plans to come down to the dining room? For all we know, she might wish to leave the hotel for her meal. Yes, you’d best phone her, Brandon.”
“No,” he said quickly.
“Why not?”
“Because...because that’s not efficient time management, Jennifer. I’d have to track you down if Andrea told me she’d like to eat in her room. Therefore, you call her.”
“Well, all right.” Jennifer paused. “Andrea’s quite pretty, don’t you think? Even not being at her best, she’s attractive. She has lovely eyes.”
“Mmm,” he said, straightening some brochures that didn’t need straightening.
“I hope she doesn’t get lonely spending the holidays in a hotel. No family. No friends here. That sounds like a rather bleak Christmas.”
“It’s none of our business, Jennifer. Don’t you have something to do in the dining room?”
“Maybe we should invite Andrea to the staff Christmas party.” Jennifer went on as though Brandon hadn’t spoken. “That might brighten things up a bit for her.”
“Don’t be silly. We can’t start doing something like that. What if other guests hear that Andrea was included in the staff party? No, absolutely not. Staff is staff. Guests are guests.”
Except that he’d kissed the socks off the guest under discussion, Brandon thought. Hell.
“All right, Mr. Scrooge,” Jennifer said. “Maybe the aunties will take Andrea under their wing so she won’t be quite so lonely.”
“I’m sure they will. They’re aware of the fact that Andrea doesn’t have any family.”
“No family at all? No one?”
Brandon shrugged. “Apparently not.”
“That’s sad, it really is. I wonder why an attractive woman like Andrea isn’t married?”
“I’d say she’s married to her work, because Ben said she was suffering from exhaustion.”
“Oh, I see,” Jennifer said, nodding. “She needs to learn how to stop and smell the flowers.”
“Jennifer, do you realize you have me standing here gossiping about one of our guests? I don’t do things like this. Go away.”
Jennifer laughed. “Yes, boss. Whatever you say, boss. Your wish is my command.”
“I should hope so.”
“You never did say if you agree with me that Andrea is pretty.”
“Goodbye, Ms. Mackane,” Brandon said, frowning at her. “Go earn your keep.”
‘“Bye,” she said, wiggling the fingers of one hand at him.
“Women,” Brandon mumbled as Jennifer disappeared from view.
The next two hours flew by as Brandon was approached time and again by guests with questions needing to be answered.
He supplied brochures listing the holiday activities taking place in Prescott, arranged for the mailing of Christmas gifts that had been purchased in town, helped several couples decipher maps for destinations of outings planned for the next day, and answered the telephone, telling three frantic, local hostesses that Hamilton House had no vacancies.
No vacancies, Brandon mentally repeated as he replaced the telephone receiver. That was due to the arrival of the woman who had taken occupancy of the last available room in the hotel.
Andrea.
Jennifer had appeared briefly an hour before to announce that Andrea had requested that a salad, small steak and a pot of tea be delivered to her room. Jennifer had looked at him intently, as though expecting a major reaction regarding Andrea’s choices for dinner. He’d simply shrugged, causing Jennifer to glare at him and stomp away.
What had Jennifer wanted him to say about Andrea’s meal, for Pete’s sake? Food was food.
Now that he really thought about it, however, Andrea hadn’t ordered very much to eat, which was probably the point Jennifer had been attempting to make. Andrea should have added a potato, vegetables and dessert to her dinner. She was physically exhausted, and should be consuming more food to bolster her energy.
When he’d held Andrea in his arms after she fainted, he’d been aware, very aware, of how delicate she was, how fragile. She needed someone to look after her, to take care of her.
Brandon shook his head and frowned.
Yeah, right, he thought dryly. Andrea was a big-city executive, who was dedicated to her career to the exclusion of everything else, including her own health and welfare.
She didn’t want, nor seemed to need, anyone intruding on her focused life.
He’d lived that type of existence for more years than he cared to admit. When he’d suddenly suffered from chest pains, his doctor had told him that he was a lucky man. His body had warned him of a potential heart attack waiting in the wings even though he was only thirty-five years old. Brandon decided then to make some adjustments in his life-style.
So, he’d walked away from the world of highpressure, corporate law in New York City, taken courses in hotel management, and returned to Prescott, to his roots, to take possession of Hamilton House and begin the restorations that were needed so badly.
The charming old building had been in the Hamilton family since the day it was built at the turn of the century. When his great-grandfather had died, the series of leases had begun, the hotel falling into good hands at times and into inefficient care at others.
When Brandon had stepped into the picture, poor old Hamilton House was a disaster, b
oth physically and financially.
Granted, there had been extreme stress as he undertook the project, but his attitude was far different than it had been in New York. He was happy, content, and he’d viewed the challenge before him with enthusiasm. There had been no further chest pains.
A young couple strolled arm and arm across the lobby, catching Brandon’s attention and pulling him from his thoughts.
He watched the couple head for the elevator, and hoped the bride and groom had enjoyed the fruit basket and champagne the hotel had sent up to their room to celebrate their wedding.
A strange chill swept through him as the couple stepped into the elevator and kissed as the doors swished closed.
What was this new emotion he was feeling? he thought crossly. Was it, possibly, just a tiny twinge of loneliness? The holiday season could evoke that emotion in a man who was alone, he supposed.
There had been an endless string of women in his jet-set life in New York. His idle hours back then had been filled with social activities, but he hadn’t been in the private company of a woman since returning to Prescott.
Until now.
Until Andrea.
And he’d kissed her.
Brandon bit back an earthy expletive as the mere remembrance of their kiss caused the now familiar, coiling heat of desire to twist low and painfully in his body.
That woman was a menace. She did tricky little things to his mind and wreaked total havoc with his body. The two weeks that Andrea was scheduled to stay at the hotel couldn’t pass quickly enough, as far as he was concerned.
Two weeks. Then Andrea would repack her suitcase, settle her bill, and leave. She’d be gone, never to be seen again.
Never? his mind echoed.
Well, sure. That was how it was with guests of the hotel. They came, they went, end of story. Unless Andrea decided to visit Prescott again at some point in the future, and stayed at Hamilton House while doing so, she’d be out of sight, out of mind forever, in two weeks.
Wrong, Brandon thought in the next instant. He had a sneaking suspicion that it would take a while to dismiss Andrea Cunningham from his mind totally.
Brandon glanced at the elevator door.
Would those newlyweds celebrate a fiftieth wedding anniversary? he wondered. Or would they be another divorce statistic? He’d known only two couples in his large social circle in New York who had been married for more than five years.
Marriage. He’d given fleeting thought to the institution once or twice in the past decade, then dismissed the idea as not being his cup of tea. He wasn’t alone in his confirmed bachelor status. His best buddies, Ben and Taylor, had never expressed a yearning to marry, either. His own fast-lane existence in New York had had no room for hearth and home, wife and babies.
But now?
He was home. He was back in Prescott, where he’d grown up in a loving environment with parents who adored him. Parents who had been killed in a plane crash when he was a freshman in college. His family now consisted of Aunt Pru and Aunt Charity, and he was fortunate to have the dear old ladies in his life.
Marriage, Brandon’s mind echoed.
Why was he suddenly dwelling on the subject? Well, because it was Christmas, a sentimental, family oriented holiday. It was the time of year, that was all, that was rendering him a bit vulnerable in the emotional department, making him acutely aware of his single status.
“Damn,” he muttered, frowning.
He’d been slam-dunked by more confusing, powerful emotions today than he had in the past year. Ever since Andrea had staggered in the front doors of the hotel, he’d been off-kilter.
What he needed was to end this day and start fresh tomorrow. He’d be fine after a solid night’s sleep. He would then be able to view Andrea as an attractive woman, who just happened to be staying at the hotel for two weeks. A guest. A here-today, gone-tomorrow person, like the multitude before her and those yet to come.
But that whole concept would be easier to believe if he hadn’t kissed Andrea Cunningham.
“Good evening, dear,” Aunt Pru said, bringing Brandon from his rambling thoughts.
“What?” he said. “Oh, hello, Aunt Pru. Aunt Charity. Did you enjoy your dinner?”
“Oh, my, yes,” Aunt Pru said. “Very much so. Are you partaking of your evening meal in the dining room tonight, dear?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Brandon said. “I’m not that hungry. I’ll make myself a sandwich in my apartment. Jerry will be here to relieve me in a few minutes, then I’ll head upstairs.”
“Jerry is a charming young man,” Aunt Pru said. “These days, though, he’s a bundle of nerves as he awaits the birth of his first child.”
“I don’t know why he’s all in a tizzy,” Aunt Charity said. “He has done his part toward having that kid. The tough stuff is yet to come—and that will be accomplished by his wife. Then Jerry will puff himself up and take all the credit for producing an heir.”
“That’s not quite fair, Charity,” Prudence said. “Jerry is nervous because he loves his wife and unborn child. He wants this momentous event over, knowing all went well. That’s a part of love and marriage.”
“Speaking of which...” Brandon said, striving for a casual tone of voice. “Do you two ever regret not marrying, or having a family?”
“Bite your tongue,” Charity said. “I never intended to pick up some fool’s dirty socks.”
Prudence sighed. “After my beau was killed in the war, I never found another who touched my heart. My dreams of a husband and children faded into oblivion. I’ll be so pleased when you marry, Brandon, and bring a baby into our lives to pamper.”
“Won’t happen,” Charity said. “Brandon is a bedhopper.”
“I am not!” Brandon said, nearly yelling. He glanced around quickly, then lowered his voice. “That was a terrible thing to say, Aunt Charity.”
Charity shrugged. “Facts are facts. I don’t see a wedding ring on your finger, big boy.”
“Things are different these days,” Prudence said. “Young people concentrate on their careers, not romance. That lovely Andrea is a perfect example of what I’m referring to. Even if Brandon came courting, I imagine Andrea would send him on his way.”
“She might settle for a whing-ding of an affair first,” Charity said.
“Charity, please,” Prudence said. “You do upset my sensibilities at times. I do wish you’d think before you speak.”
“What is there to think about?” Charity said. “Andrea wouldn’t marry Brandon on a bet.”
“Why not?” Brandon said. “What am I, chopped liver? I wouldn’t be a bad catch, except for the fact that I’m in debt up to my eyebrows. But I’m kind, pleasant, intelligent.”
“So is a cocker spaniel,” Charity said. “What would Andrea need you for beyond the bedroom? She’s a no-nonsense career woman, as far as I can tell.”
She also kisses like a dream, Brandon thought. There was a sizzling, sensuous woman beneath the business suit that Andrea wore.
“Maybe,” Prudence said, “Andrea yearns for a husband and family, but has buried those dreams because of her demanding career. That would be a shame. True love could pass her by without her realizing it, because she’d never see the butterflies dancing.”
“The who?” Brandon said, frowning in confusion.
“The butterflies, dear.” Prudence sighed wistfully. “Oh, how the beautiful butterflies danced when I was strolling in the garden with my beau, rest his soul. The butterflies know, you see, often before the couple themselves realize it, that true love is in bloom like a lovely flower. Then the butterflies dance, and it’s a glorious sight to behold.”
Brandon laughed. “Well, I guess with that theory, no one would fall in love in Prescott in the winter. There sure aren’t any butterflies romping around in that snow out there.”
“You’re wrong on that score, hotshot,” Charity said. “The butterflies would show up to dance their jig no matter what the season was.”
&n
bsp; “You believe in this butterfly thing, Aunt Charity?” Brandon said.
“I have to admit that I do,” Charity said, nodding. “Because I saw the butterflies dancing around Prudence and her beau in the garden all those years ago. Prudence’s young man came home on leave from the war in the dead of winter, too, and the butterflies suddenly appeared, dancing up a storm.”
“Yes,” Prudence said softly, staring into space. “Yes, they did.”
“You know I chatter on about there being ghosts in Hamilton House, Brandon,” Charity said. “But that’s nonsense, just something I blather about to tickle people’s fancy. But the butterflies? They are real, they truly are. There’s no denying it.”
“Oh,” Brandon said, then for the life of him couldn’t think of one other thing to say.
“It’s so sad,” Prudence said, “when people are so busy, so caught up in their careers, that they don’t see the butterflies, and miss out on the rapturous joy of true love. That’s what I fear might happen with Andrea.”
“It could happen to you, too, big boy,” Charity said to Brandon, “if you don’t watch your step. Oh, I know you’re supposedly a fast-lane dropout from New York City, but you haven’t taken a day off since you arrived back in Prescott and took over the hotel.”
“I’ve been rather busy, if you recall,” Brandon said, running one hand down his tie. “This place didn’t get shaped up on its own, you know.”
“But now the restoration work is completed,” Charity said. “And has been for months. It’s time you played a bit, instead of doing nothing but working day and night. It’s starting to seem as though you just changed the cities where you live, but not the life-style you lead.”
Brandon planted his hands on the counter and leaned toward Charity.
“Are you forgetting that you sold your family house,” he said quietly, “and invested that money in the hotel? Everything you had is tied up in this endeavor. I’d think you’d be relieved to see that I’m dedicated to making Hamilton House successful.”
“The hotel is doing just fine,” Charity said. “It’s time for you to lighten up.”
Taming Tall, Dark Brandon Page 4
