Page 13 of Broken SEAL'S Secret Baby
He chuckles, a warm male sound that sends warning signals all up and down my spine. It gets my dander up as nothing else could possibly have done, and it sets something else in motion, too. But I don’t want to acknowledge that.
“I look forward to seeing you,” he says. “The sooner the better.”
“I’ll be there.” I hang up the phone and glare at my brother. “Well,” I say, “This is another fine mess you’ve gotten me into.”
He just grins evilly at me, waggles his fingers over his head, and says, “Sure, Ollie.”
Chapter six
Charles
It is nearly midnight when James calls from the lobby to say that he is here with his sister and all her luggage. I don’t want to leave Cece alone, so I call down to the front desk and have them make a keycard for Kate and get her signed into the security system.
When Kate and James arrive at the penthouse entry, I meet them and take over from the bellhop. “Sorry about not coming down,” I say. “But I didn’t want to leave Cece alone. Em and I are . . .” I pause, realizing once again that I was no longer a “we”. I swallow down the pain and go on, “were very particular about making sure that there was always someone she could call out to, in case she got scared at night.”
“I understand,” Kate says, coolly professional and correct. “Night can be scary for young children.”
“Did you get the contract I sent to you?” I ask.
Kate gives her brother a dirty look. “My phone is out of data, and the Internet at the farm is offline. Is there someplace I can set up my laptop?”
There are some interesting undercurrents going on there,but I don’t really have time to examine them right now. “Of course,” I say, “You can use the kitchen guest access for tonight. I’ll get you set up properly tomorrow.”
“Mind if I take off now?” James asks. “I got a pretty good drive ahead of me.”
“You could use the guest room,” I invite.
“Nah, I gotta hay the cows and feed the chickens in the morning.” He grins at me.
I knew that his farm was set up so he could be gone for days on end, so I can only think that he wants to be sure that his sister can’t back out.
“Be careful going back,” I say. “Pavements are slick when wet.”
“Don’t I know it!” James agrees. “I’ll check in with you two in the morning. I know the way out.”
And just like that, he is gone, leaving me alone with a young woman who looks angry, perhaps a little bit scared, and with whom I have an antagonistic history.
I can’t fix whatever is bugging my CFO and best friend, but maybe I can help her feel less . . . what? Alone? Worried? Scared that her neighbor was right and that she might be raped and killed? Show her that I’m not the total ass she’d always seemed to think of me?
Professional. That is the right approach. I can cover a lot of emotional ground with professionals.
“Why don’t you set your laptop here on the kitchen table? The system will automatically give you guest access. I’ll give you a few minutes to look over the contract. Would you like something to drink? Water? Juice?”
She looks really uncomfortable, then she blushes. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, a bathroom? We drove straight here, and that’s about six hours.”
I give myself a mental kick. Dolt! Of course she wouldwant the facilities. “I’ll show you your room,” I say. “There’s a bathroom attached to it. Are you hungry?”
She looks up at me, her hazel eyes wide and innocent like some wild creature that has been startled, but not yet taken flight. Is this the little harridan I remembered? “I don’t know,” she says, seeming lost. “Water sounds good.”
I walk down the hall and open the door to the guest room that is next to Cece’s bedroom/playroom combo. “You’ll be in here,” I say. “Cece is next door. Your bathroom door is there on the left.”
“Thank you,” she says, shrugging out of her windbreaker. “Where should I put my coat?”
“Anywhere you want,” I say. “But there’s a coat closet here by the door. I’ll show you the rest when you are more comfortable.” I then withdraw, leaving the door open.
That leaves me alone with my thoughts. Since my thoughts aren’t going anywhere good, I put my nervous energy to work. I rummage in the refrigerator and find a covered dish of sliced cheese and some grapes. I then check the cupboards and find an open box of butter crackers.
I stick a glass under the refrigerator door dispenser and fill it with ice and water. I am just turning around from that, when Miss Bailey comes back into the kitchen, carrying her laptop. Perhaps it is my imagination, but she seems to have filled out a little since my college days. It looks good on her.
