your kid?”
“No. I don’t even know him,” she admitted as she looked back at the stranger. “But he’ll get help.”
“You trust that kid?”
She hadn’t thought of it in those terms, but she’d never been cynical, either. “I think he’ll come back.”
“He could, but speaking from personal experience and not being the trusting sort, why would he come back if he’d just been caught where he shouldn’t be and had attacked someone he shouldn’t have attacked?” His eyes flicked over her, making her stomach tighten. “My guess is, it’s just you and me now.”
Brittany took a step back, and knew she didn’t want it to be “just you and me,” with any man, especially not with this giant of a man who was looking at her with an intensity that made her thought processes amazingly scrambled.
She knew she should get out of there. She should run like hell. She looked for her purse, and saw it, right behind the stranger, the heel of his boot either pressing it against the wall or stepping on it. She couldn’t tell. And she wasn’t going closer to get a better look, either.
“Hey, what’s going on here?” someone yelled from behind them.
She turned and saw a security guard rushing into the conference area. “See, I told you he was getting help,” she said to the stranger.
He looked past her. “Not unless he’s wearing overalls now.”
She turned back and saw the guard coming toward them, followed by a tiny, dark-haired woman in pink overalls, but no sign of the kid. The guard stopped when he saw the two of them, but the woman didn’t stop until she was right by them. She looked from Brittany to the stranger, then settled on the man. “I was in the security room when they said you called in. I came to see what was happening.”
“That’s what I was trying to figure out myself.” The man stood a bit straighter and Brittany was vaguely aware that her purse fell to one side.
“Where’s the boy?” Brittany asked as she turned back to the guard.
The middle-aged man in the gray uniform shrugged. “Boy? What boy?”
Brittany looked past him. “A boy, maybe eight or nine years old, in baggy clothes, a baseball cap?” She looked back at the guard. “He went to get you.”
“No, ma’am, never saw a kid.” He motioned to the stranger. “Mr. Terrel here called Security and Mrs. Blake was there when the call came, and then we heard the commotion.”
Mr. Terrel? Brittany turned to those dark eyes still holding steady on her. Matthew Terrel? A C.E.O.? He wasn’t like any C.E.O. she’d met in her life. No three-piece suit or pinstriped shirt. Shoot, and she’d attacked him, the man she was supposed to meet, the man who was going to “watch out for her” for her father. Shoot and double shoot.
“I thought there was a break-in, and I had visions of graffiti all over the place.” The pink-overalled woman looked around as she spoke. “I couldn’t bear it if this was spoiled. That tree’s perfect and everything’s going so well.”
“Amy, don’t worry. I think everything’s okay. I saw the back door was open, called Security then came in to check.” Matthew Terrel looked back at Brittany, and she was startled to see what might have been the shadow of a smile in his dark eyes. He couldn’t be starting to enjoy this. “I barely got inside before I was attacked. Some kid who must have been staying late at the day care got me, right after she did.” He motioned toward Brittany and she barely hid a flinch when his hand almost struck her shoulder. “She came out of the shadows screaming something about a fire.”
“You hit me first,” she said, then realized how truly ridiculous that sounded. Matthew Terrel attacking someone? That was the wrong road to go down, and she knew that it was time to stop the madness. “I’d tried to turn on the lights and couldn’t find a switch that worked, then I ran into someone and he…he grabbed me, and it scared me, and I was just protecting myself.”
“But screaming fire?” he asked, and, yes, she knew that he was on the verge of smiling now.
“I was told to yell fire, because people ignore other things or don’t want to get involved, but if they think they’re going up in smoke, they pay attention.”
The smile came to light then, a lifting of his lips and crinkling of lines at the corners of his dark eyes. “Well, I have to say, you got my attention, Miss…?”
She opened her mouth to say who she was, that she was here to meet with him, that she’d been delayed and maybe even apologize for hitting him. But before she could get anything out, the security guard who had gone to look around was back. “Nothing bothered, Mrs. Blake. Everything looks just fine.”
“Thank goodness,” Amy sighed. “Today has been so crazy, what with the kids and fabric swatches and toy designers.”
“Is there anything else, sir?” the guard asked. He eyed Brittany, then said, “How about her?”
“I’ll take care of this. Just keep an eye on the doors.”
“Yes, sir,” the guard said, then left.
Brittany watched the man, swearing she could catch a hint of the scents that had surrounded her when they’d fallen to the floor together. A mellow aftershave, heat and something else that oddly reminded her of when she was a kid and went to the office with her dad. That was weird. “Are you okay, Matt?” Amy asked.
“I’m fine. I was just trying to get out of here. I had an appointment that never showed, and just destroyed whatever time line I was trying to keep intact.”
“Yeah, I heard about that meeting. She never showed?”
He moved as Amy spoke, lightly brushing Brittany’s arm as he passed her. She moved back a step and watched him cross to the tree base to get his briefcase. He picked it up, then brushed at the expensive leather. “No. Not even a call.” He came back, stopping near Amy. “Not that I expected one. Mr. Lewis said she wasn’t thrilled with having to actually work, but he was sure she’d be here on time. He thought they had an understanding. But he’s the father and probably wants to think the best of his only child.”
Her heart sank. They were talking about her. She saw Amy grin at him, a sense of familiarity between the big man and the tiny woman. They seemed so easy together, so connected as they spoke, and a part of Brittany felt a crazy jealousy that a man and woman could be so comfortable together. Then she remembered that the guard had called her Mrs. Blake. Were they just friends, friends close enough to have an inside joke running about her? She cursed the fact that her face felt hot and she brushed at her cheek as they kept talking.
“Her idea of work is getting engaged,” Amy said. “I doubt that she’ll show up here.”
“I hope she doesn’t. The only reason I agreed to hire her on was that her father’s been so decent about things. And I could tell it meant a lot to him. He’s got the idea that if she just sits behind a desk, that something will kick in and she’ll show what she’s made of.” He laughed then, a rough sound that jarred Brittany. “Poor guy, hope springs eternal, I guess. She’s got to be in her twenties and he’s watching out for her as if she’s a teenager getting
