Читать книгу But Not For Me - Annette Broadrick - Страница 11

Brad stared at her in shock…glad he was seated. Otherwise he would have made a fool of himself when his knees gave way at her calm announcement.

Rachel had just verbalized his greatest fear, only he hadn’t known it until now. The constriction in his chest made it difficult for him to breathe. He wondered if he were having a heart attack.

She sat there, waiting for him to say something.

His mind was blank. She intended to take a leave of absence? When he’d had trouble getting through a morning without her?

Then it hit him. She was kidding! “All right,” he said with a grin, “what is this? Are you hitting me up for another raise? If so, consider yourself successful.”

Rachel leaned forward in her chair. “I know this comes as a shock to you, Brad, and I’m sorry if my being away is going to inconvenience you. After seriously considering all of my options, I believe my getting away for a while will be best for all concerned.”

She wasn’t kidding.

He swallowed hard, hanging on to his control so that he didn’t pound the desk and bellow at her. Not that she hadn’t witnessed some of that behavior over the years, but it had never been aimed at her. Desolation swept over him at the idea that Rachel could so casually walk away from the business she had helped to create.

“Do I have any say in your decision or is it already written in stone?” he asked mildly. Only his clenched hands resting on the desk gave away his agitation. If she happened to notice.

Rachel sighed and looked toward the window for a long moment before turning back to him. “I haven’t wanted to bother you with any of this,” she finally said.

“Too late. I’m bothered. Now, what the hell is going on, Rachel?”

She leaned back in her chair and gave him a level stare. “Would it help if I told you it is personal and has nothing to do with the business?”

“I’m glad to hear it. Now tell me what’s going on.”

“You’re going to be difficult about this, aren’t you?” she asked, frowning.

He leaned forward. “You have no idea how difficult I’m going to be if you don’t start explaining—now—what has happened.” He enunciated each word with utmost precision.

Rachel sat up, clasping her hands tightly on the desk. “A few weeks ago I found an anonymous note in my apartment building mailbox. I’d never had anything like that happen to me before.”

“What did it say?”

“I don’t remember exactly. It was signed ‘Your Secret Admirer.’ The notes didn’t bother me at first—”

“Notes? You received more than one?”

She nodded. “They arrived every week or so and said things like ‘I’m so glad I know you…I want to spend time with you’…that sort of thing. As time passed the notes became more…more…personal.” She flushed. “They stated how much the writer wanted to hold me, kiss me…and…um…”

Brad could see she was uncomfortable discussing the matter with him.

“I threw the notes away as soon as I found them. I tried to ignore them because I knew there was nothing I could do. The police said the same thing.”

Brad froze. “The police?”

“Yes. That’s where I’ve been this morning…talking with the police.”

Brad didn’t like what he was hearing. She’d been receiving anonymous notes that had caused her to report them to the police and had never mentioned them to him. He wondered why? Did she truly see him as no more than her boss?

“What happened that made you go to the police?”

She bit her bottom lip and he realized she was trembling. “I arrived home late last night and immediately went to bed. This morning I took my shower and dressed as I usually do. When I went to my dresser to pick out a pair of earrings, I noticed there was a folded note lying on top of the dresser. I don’t know how long it had been there.”

Brad almost came out of his chair in outrage but knew he had to hang on to his temper until she told him the details. It took real effort for him to remain calm while he listened to her.

“At first I thought it was from my cleaning lady—she’d been there the day before—but she generally leaves a message by the kitchen phone. When I opened it, I saw it was signed ‘Your Secret Admirer.’”

Rachel had been looking at her hands during her recital. Now she looked up at him. She looked terrified. She struggled to sound calm as she said, “Whoever this is was inside my apartment either yesterday or last night. I immediately called my cleaning lady, but she said she hadn’t seen anyone. As I told the police, whoever wrote it could have placed it there while I was asleep for all I know.” She covered her eyes for a moment, then went on. “I panicked when I saw the note. For a moment I even imagined he was still there, lurking in my closet, but then I remembered I would have seen him when I got dressed. All I knew was I had to get out of the apartment. So I went to the police.”

Brad went back to her earlier statement. “They told you there is nothing they can do?”

“Basically. After waiting for over an hour to speak to someone, I told the man on duty what happened. He listened, asked questions and typed up the report. I gave him the note I’d found, the only one I’d kept. He asked if I’d recently broken up with a boyfriend who might have a key to my place! I was upset by the suggestion. I told him no, of course. He said that even though the note suggested someone had unlawfully entered my apartment, they didn’t have the manpower to check out this kind of complaint. He suggested I might want to leave town for a while.”

“This is why you intend to take a leave of absence?”

She nodded. “I don’t think I can sleep there again, knowing that someone can get into the apartment without my knowledge. I thought I’d take some time off and decide what to do. It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed working here, but until I’ve come up with some kind of resolution for this matter, I don’t think I’d be much use to the company.”

Now it was Brad’s turn to panic. There was no way he was going to let her walk out of here and go who knows where. He’d be worried sick about her. What if the guy followed her? She still wouldn’t be safe.

Thinking furiously, Brad said, “I can certainly understand your concerns, Rachel,” he began. “I believe if we sit down together and assess what has happened, we can—” The intercom interrupted him.

Not bothering to hide his irritation at the interruption, he punched the button and growled, “Yes?”

“Sorry to interrupt,” were Janelle’s first words. “Carl is on line three and says he needs to talk to you now. What would you like me to tell him?”

“I’ll take it,” he said with resignation. Business continued despite the bombshell Rachel had dropped on him.

Hitting the button for the speakerphone, he said, “Hey, buddy, how’s it going?”

“I’m ready to turn in my resignation on this one, Brad. I’ve just about had it!”

Brad glanced at Rachel. “There seems to be a lot of that going around these days. What’s up?”

“Thomas Crossland’s wife turned up at the site two weeks ago and has taken responsibility for overseeing the construction of their home. She’s made it clear that she is not pleased with what’s being done. Today she informed me that she wanted an immediate meeting with you—on-site, mind you—for a full explanation of why we continue to ignore her many suggestions to improve her home.”

“Where’s Tom?”

“Who knows? Hell, he’s probably gone into hiding until the house is finished. Look, I know how much you wanted the opportunity to expand our market, but I’m telling you right now, if we manage to get through this project without being sued or losing our shirts over her costly proposed changes, I’ll consider us way ahead of the game.”

Carl had been with him since the beginning, and Brad learned a long time ago to listen to him. If he said the situation was serious, Brad believed him. Hearing the testiness in Carl’s voice, Brad deliberately used a light tone when he replied, “That bad, huh?”

“Worse,” Carl snapped back. “When can you get here?”

Brad hadn’t taken his eyes off Rachel during the conversation. His brain kicked into high gear. Maybe this could be used to his advantage. He did not want to lose Rachel, even for a few days, much less weeks or months.

He mentally reviewed his schedule and realized that nothing had gone according to plan since he had arrived that morning to discover Rachel was missing. He scanned his appointment book, then answered Carl.

“I should be able to be in Asheville by five or thereabout.”

Carl gave a sigh of relief. “Great. I’ll be there to meet you. We’re about forty miles from Asheville. I can fill you in on the particulars on our way back.”

“Sounds good to me. Oh, and Carl?”

“Yeah?” Carl sounded much better already.

“Take the rest of the day off…boss’s orders.”

Carl’s rumbling laugh filled the room, causing Rachel to smile. “You don’t have to say that twice. See ya around five,” he replied and hung up.

Brad broke the connection, then hit the speed dial. When a voice answered, he asked, “Steve, how soon can you have the plane ready?”

Without hesitation, Steve Parsons, the pilot of the company’s jet, replied, “Within the hour. Where are we going?”

“Asheville, North Carolina. Rachel and I will grab a quick bite to eat and see you at the hangar.” He hung up without looking at her and waited.

He didn’t have to wait long.

“I can’t go to North Carolina with you, Brad! I need to pack to leave town as soon as possible. I thought I made that clear to you.”

Brad smiled and spread his arms in an expansive movement. “Don’t you see? That’s exactly what you’re doing. I think Carl has inadvertently come up with the perfect solution. You can leave town and continue to work.”

Her exasperation with him almost made him laugh. He felt better already. He was buying time until he could think of something else. She’d sprung this on him today, while she had been dealing with it for some time.

“Going to North Carolina is a temporary fix, Brad.” She sounded as though she were attempting to reason with an obstinate child.

He nodded, feeling better the more he thought about his impromptu plan. “Of course it’s temporary, but the trip will give us time to look at other options that don’t include your taking a leave of absence,” he replied, using the same reasoning tone of voice.

“I’ve already gone over the options.” She was beginning to sound downright testy. “This is the best one.”

“How do you know? Maybe I’ll think of something you haven’t considered. What do you have to lose?”

She shook her head. “It’s just postponing the inevitable, Brad, and you know it.”

“Humor me, all right?” He stood and walked around the desk. “Let’s go find something to eat before we head to the airport.”

“I can’t go with you without advance notice. I need some clothes. I—”

“You can buy anything you need there. Let’s go.” He picked up his briefcase, which always carried a fresh shirt, underwear and socks—but he saw no reason to apprise her of that fact—and on impulse grabbed her hand to assist her out of her chair. The unexpected contact startled them both.

From the day he had hired her, Brad had deliberately refrained from physical contact with Rachel. He’d decided that keeping her at a safe distance would be the wisest course of action.

Rachel stood and immediately removed her hand from his. She made it obvious that she was not pleased with his solution. “This isn’t a good idea, you know,” she argued valiantly, but she knew him well enough by now to know he wouldn’t give in.

“On the contrary,” he replied with a grin. “I’m convinced I’ve come up with a brilliant piece of strategy. C’mon, let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”

She followed him through his office door, no doubt continuing to marshal her arguments, he thought.

He stopped at his secretary’s desk. “Janelle, cancel any appointments Rachel and I have for the rest of the week.” He looked at his watch and grimaced. “Rich is no doubt somewhere having lunch.”

Richard Harmon had taken on the onerous task of office manager five years ago. He had excellent skills for keeping the place running smoothly. Since Brad and Rachel were seldom gone at the same time, Brad had never had to rely on Rich’s ability to take over the reins of the company. This might be an excellent opportunity to see how well he handled the responsibility.

“Please send a memo to Rich and tell him we’ll both be out of town for the next few days and that he’s in charge. If he needs to contact me, I’ll have my cell phone with me. Be sure to give him that number. If anything comes up that he doesn’t feel qualified to handle, tell him I want him to contact me immediately.” Janelle wrote the instructions down, keeping up with him with seeming ease.

Janelle Andrews had come to work for the company five years ago as well. In her late forties, Janelle was a human dynamo, keeping up with the paperwork for both of them without showing stress or strain. Brad appreciated the fact that Janelle did not gossip, kept her work confidential and had a pleasant disposition. He knew he’d been fortunate to gather together such a solid, dependable staff.

Janelle quickly scanned the appointment book, reminding him of what appointments were being canceled. He suggested that she reschedule all of them for early next week. “Explain that an emergency called me out of town,” he concluded.

She smiled and said, “Have a safe trip,” including both of them in the statement.

Brad turned, and he and Rachel followed the hallway into the large reception area. Melinda, the young receptionist, smiled at them. Brad nodded and walked toward the company’s entrance—double glass doors bearing the inscription Phillips Construction Company.

Brad mentally ran through what Rachel had told him—while they waited for the elevator, rode down to the basement parking garage and walked to his sleek sports car.

There were times when Rachel irritated him with her insistence on being so blasted self-sufficient. On the other hand, that’s what made her such a great assistant.

Rachel broke the silence between them when they reached his car. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” she said, sounding almost reconciled to the trip, which made her continued resistance to his plan easier on him. She glanced at him while he held the door open on the passenger’s side. She slid into the low car with more grace than most women he knew, but then Rachel had always had an air of refinement about her.

Over the years she’d worked for him, she had managed to polish some of his rough edges without making him feel boorish or embarrassed by his lack of sophistication.

He felt justified in offering his help now, despite her protests.

Brad slid behind the steering wheel, closed the car door and started the engine, which began to purr like a well-fed cat. He smiled. Before owning this particular vehicle, Brad had bought only trucks for his own use. They were by far the most practical transportation for business purposes.

For years after he knew he could afford to drive anything he wished, he continued to drive a pickup truck…until he’d seen this baby sitting in a show window three months ago. Practicality took a back seat to the sleek lines and high performance of the Porsche. He’d never had buyer’s remorse; he doubted very much that he ever would.

The car was a visible sign that he’d met his goals and become successful. His success meant he had overcome his early life. His past no longer had the power to cause him pain, because he had proven to himself that he wasn’t a loser. His new Porsche reminded him that he was a winner every time he saw it.

Rachel forced herself to lean back in the aircraft seat. She closed her eyes, already dreading the petrifying moment when the jet actually left Mother Earth and threw itself recklessly into the air, defying the law of gravity.

She did not like to fly. To be more precise, she absolutely detested flying and generally managed to avoid it, but there was no arguing with Brad.

Not that Brad had any idea of her strong aversion to flying. She’d been careful never to mention the matter to him. After all, there had never been a reason to call his attention to her weakness. Sometime during the years she had worked for him, Brad must have decided that she was a direct descendant of Wonder Woman—he thought that no matter what he asked of her, she could do it with ease.

Boy, was he wrong. For whatever reason—and she had no doubt an analyst would have a field day with this one—she had worked diligently to keep Brad’s illusions about her intact.

Until now. All she wanted to do at the moment was curl up somewhere and sleep for the next year or so. After what had happened last night, though, she no longer felt safe in her apartment.

Rachel gripped the arms of her seat as the plane barreled down the runway and leaped skyward. She prayed fervently that she wouldn’t embarrass herself by becoming hysterical and sobbing all the way to North Carolina.

Even with her eyes closed, she knew when Brad unfastened his safety belt and left the seat beside her. The company jet contained a fully equipped office. Wherever Brad went, he kept up with everything that happened in his company.

She kept her eyes closed in order to better concentrate on the sounds of the plane. Perhaps if she remained alert, she could warn Steve if a wing fell off or something.

She hoped Brad would be able to deal satisfactorily with Mrs. Crossland. He’d been so excited when Thomas Crossland asked him to build his vacation home in the mountains.

There was no reason for Carl to worry. Brad had an excellent track record for convincing a person that Brad’s way was the best way. Her being there on the plane with him certainly proved his powers of persuasion. He’d used them successfully on other occasions.

He’d convinced her years ago that helping him build his dream company would not only bring her wealth but also tremendous satisfaction.

What normal, red-blooded woman wouldn’t have fallen in love with him?

Of course she’d never, by look or deed, revealed her feelings to him. Not only would that have sabotaged her career, but it would also have sent Brad Phillips running for the nearest exit.

She almost smiled at that thought but, if Brad happened to notice that she wasn’t asleep, he’d want to continue to discuss her plan to take some time off. She wasn’t ready to go another round with him on that subject.

Rachel seldom discussed her private life with Brad. One of the ways she avoided personal topics was to turn his casual questions around to find out about his social life. Over the years he’d been surprisingly forthcoming about who he was seeing and who he had stopped seeing. Rachel wasn’t sure which was worse, imagining Brad with various women or actually hearing about them.

She’d formed a clear picture of his modus operandi in the romance department. There wasn’t an ounce of romance in the man, which was really a shame because he was the type of male that women fantasized about while gnawing on a knuckle and whimpering.

Working construction had honed his tall, rangy body into solid muscle and sinew. Along the way he’d acquired what appeared to be a permanent tan as a result of years spent working in the sun. She wasn’t sure how he managed to keep his trim good looks now that he spent a large part of his time indoors, but there was no doubt a hard body lurked beneath his custom-made suits.

As one of her friends so succinctly put it, if she hadn’t fallen in love with the man after working closely with him for years, someone would have needed to check her pulse to be certain she was alive.

He had no trouble attracting the attention of women, married or single, but the man appeared uninterested in their admiration. She couldn’t say he was classically handsome…his face showed too much strength for that. How he remained unaware of his ability to charm any woman he wanted into his bed was beyond her. Having known other men who used that particular skill to seduce women who could put them in touch with business contacts, she knew that Brad was an exceptional man. He never used his sensual appeal as a manipulative tool.

Rachel knew that he sometimes dated daughters of leading businessmen in Dallas, not because he ever mentioned them, but because he was frequently seen in photographs prominently displayed on the society pages of the daily newspaper. She knew when he’d stopped seeing one of them by the stack of phone messages he received, pleading with him to call.

She recalled one night about a year after she had gone to work for him. They had worked late at the office. As usual Brad had offered to feed her. Once they had eaten and he was in a relaxed mood, he surprised her by mentioning a couple of the women he’d been seeing, giving her new insight into his complicated thought processes.

They had been enjoying their after-dinner coffee when in a rare burst of curiosity, she asked, “I noticed that Caroline Windsor has been calling frequently during the past few days. Is there a problem with your relationship?”

He winced, making her wish she could cut off her tongue before it got her into any more trouble. “The problem is that she thinks we have a relationship,” he replied gruffly.

He must have registered her surprise at his comment because he continued in explanation. “You see, Caroline always gets whatever she wants that daddy can buy, which covers a lot of territory, given Carter Windsor the Third’s bank balance. She kept turning up whenever her dad and I met while planning his latest commercial venture, joining us for lunch and suggesting not too subtly that she was available for dinner.”

He sipped on his coffee and Rachel hoped he would continue with this story, because it sounded like a good one. There weren’t too many—all right, if she were being honest—she didn’t know of any man who wouldn’t be flattered by drawing Ms. Windsor’s attention, giving him an opportunity to get in closer touch with the Carter Windsor dynasty.

She kept her gaze on her coffee, not wanting to let him see how his remarks had only whetted her no-doubt morbid curiosity concerning his love life.

“I’m not making excuses in regard to my behavior,” he said after a long pause. “CeCe is attractive, intelligent and never boring. What she can be at times is demanding. She doesn’t like the hours I work because she’s used to having an escort at her beck and call. When I explained that she was free to find someone else since I couldn’t always meet her requirements, she resorted to tears and said things I know she regrets. I realized that if she pictured us as a couple headed toward commitment, I had to step out of her life immediately. So I did.” The firm tone he used indicated that he’d made up his mind. “I’m not sure she believed me.”

“Hence her telephone calls?” Rachel asked with a slight smile.

He shrugged. “I guess. She discovered that I don’t play games when she hoped to punish me by not being available when I found time to call. I suppose she wanted to make me jealous.” His smile was rueful. “That doesn’t work with me.”

“So you aren’t looking for a long-term commitment, I take it?” she asked very casually.

“I already have one,” he replied, settling comfortably back into the plush banquette.

Rachel hoped she’d covered her startled reaction. She couldn’t think of anyone who had been in his life for more than a few months since he’d hired her. “I see,” she said. “Have I met her?”

He grinned. “It’s not a her. It’s this business, Rachel. I thought you of all people would understand that.”

“Ah,” she replied, feeling a strong sense of relief that he hadn’t been referring to another woman, which was stupid of her. What difference could it make to her?

“I learned a long time ago,” he continued, “that relationships never work out in the long run. Besides, they take too much time and energy. Most women I know are looking for a husband and a father for their future children. Since I’m not going to be either of those things, I rarely stay with one woman for more than a few months.”

As the plane winged eastward, Rachel remembered everything he’d said that night. She’d been relieved in a way that she wouldn’t have to witness her boss someday marrying some blushing bride. However, his remarks had also made her wonder why he was so certain he would never marry. She may have been given a glimpse of his fiercely guarded past a few years ago. Janelle had forwarded one of Brad’s calls to her when he was out of town.

“This is Rachel Wood, Mr. Phillips’ assistant. May I help you?”

“Not unless you happen to be sitting on Brad’s lap. I want to speak to my son and I intend to speak to my son. So put him on the line. Now.”

Brad never mentioned his family. She had somehow received the impression that his parents were dead. Obviously she’d been wrong.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Phillips,” she said, her voice warming, “Brad is out of town. He won’t be back until the end of the week. Would you like me to give him a message?”

She heard a distinct growl of displeasure before the man said, “Why don’t you do that? Why don’t you ask him why he never returns my phone calls? Why don’t you ask him why he looked through me as though I didn’t exist when he left some mucky-muck’s posh party at the Marriott Hotel last week? And ask him why he refuses to meet me, completely ignoring all the years I spent raising him?”

More hesitant now, she answered, “Yes, Mr. Phillips, I’ll give him the message.”

“And tell him I expect to hear from him as soon as he returns to town.”

“I will,” she said quietly.

“Oh, and for the record—my name isn’t Phillips. It’s Harold Freeland.” He slammed the phone down, causing her to wince.

She’d carefully recorded everything the man had said in a memo and placed it in the center of Brad’s desk so that he would see it as soon as he returned. The first time she entered Brad’s office after his return she saw the typed message crumpled in his waste-basket.

Neither of them mentioned the phone call or the message she’d relayed to him. She’d never felt it was any of her business to ask questions about his parents and Brad certainly hadn’t volunteered any explanations.

He’d been raised by his father? What had happened to his mother? Did his relationship with his parents have anything to do with his strongly held desire not to marry?

Who knew?

That phone call was the only time she’d been shown a glimpse of his life before she’d gone to work for him. She had a hunch she might understand Brad better if he were willing to discuss his childhood with her, but he never mentioned it.

On the other hand, he’d been wonderfully compassionate when her mother had been diagnosed as terminally ill. He’d told Rachel to stay home with her mother after the surgery that had confirmed the diagnosis, and he’d continued to pay her salary despite her protests. In addition, he’d paid off the medical bills that weren’t covered by her mother’s insurance. Rachel had been heartbroken that she’d been home with her mother for only a few weeks before she succumbed to her illness.

Rachel had been the one to deal with the arrangements, which was only fair. Both her brother and his family and her sister, who was single, lived in California. Rachel was the one who had stayed home with her mother for all those years.

She’d lost her mother four years ago and Rachel still missed her. She’d had a rough time adjusting to the loss. Brad had been more than supportive.

So he had a heart. He just didn’t want the knowledge to get around. The news might ruin his reputation for being a tough, hardheaded businessman.

“Rachel?”

Startled, Rachel sat up, opening her eyes. “Yes?” she said, her voice hoarse.

He grinned. “No, we’re not crashing, so you can relax, if that’s possible.”

She frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Somehow I’ve managed to get the impression during this trip that you’re afraid of flying.”

Wouldn’t you know his powers of observation would zero in on something like that when he was oblivious to so many other things, Rachel thought, irritated. Maybe she could bluff him.

“I don’t know where you got the idea that I’m afraid of flying,” she replied with as much dignity as she could muster.

He raised one of his brows in feigned surprise. “You don’t say,” he drawled, looking amused. “You were clutching the arms of your seat so hard when we took off that you actually left permanent dents where your fingernails dug into the leather.”

She quickly checked the arms to make sure she hadn’t done that very thing when his laughter made her realize she’d given herself away.

“I don’t fly very often,” she admitted, still trying to hang on to her dignity, which appeared to be slipping rapidly away.

“Oh, I’m well aware of that. I’m also aware how close you were to mutiny when we boarded.”

“That’s because there is no good reason for me to be on this trip,” she replied, feeling defensive.

“I can think of several off the top of my head but this isn’t the time to go into them.”

She stared wildly around the cabin and tightly gripped the arms of her seat. “Why?” she demanded.

He gave her that lopsided grin of his—the one that usually melted her heart no matter how aggravated she might be with him—and said, “Captain says we’ll be landing in another thirty minutes or so. Thought you’d want to know.”

She nodded and stood. “Thank you,” she said, gathering her dignity like a cloak around her. “I’ll go and freshen up.” She went back to the rest room and waited until the door closed firmly behind her before she faced herself in the mirror.

Her reflection wasn’t a reassuring sight. Somehow she’d managed to turn a rather bilious color of green. No doubt the altitude contributed to the sickly pallor.

She quickly used the facilities, washed her hands and face, and tried to rub some color—other than green—into her face before she had to return to the cabin.

There were times when Brad caught her off guard with his acute observations of her. Now that she was going to be in his company for most of the next few days, she needed to watch her every word and expression. He didn’t need to see beneath her professional facade any more than he already had.

After patting her face dry, combing her hair and reapplying her lipstick, Rachel returned to her seat. Brad was already seated next to her. As soon as she buckled herself in, he took her right hand firmly in his large left one and said, “Hang on, Rachel, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She had no idea whether he was referring to her mysterious stalker or to the interminable flight but it really didn’t matter.

He was too late. Something had happened to her over which Brad Phillips had no control. He held her vulnerable heart in his grasp, if he but knew.