younger brother crazy. Then, putting on her best expression of disdain, she looked down at the fingers curled around her upper arm. They sent strange sensations dancing across her skin.
“You’d better not be discriminating against my gender,” she warned, latching on to one last hope. “That’s illegal.” Her words were beginning to slur and she felt light-headed. The combination of extreme fatigue and jet lag was taking its toll.
He pulled her toward the door. “You’d better come inside. We can’t sort this out here.”
In spite of the freezing weather, Jack Carlisle wore a sleeveless T-shirt and his feet were bare. When he at last allowed her into the narrow, three-story house, Freddi understood why. Compared with the icy confines of her family’s baronial mansion, which cost far more to heat than her father could afford, Jack’s home was kept tropically warm.
Freddi followed him from the small, slate-floored entrance hall up three steps and into a large open space, one section of which held a long, dark oak table. He skirted the open stairwell with its spiral staircase, passed the dining section and flopped down onto a large, low easy chair. In front of this sat a matching ottoman. Jack put his bare feet up and crossed them at the ankles, regarding her with an enigmatic expression.
Her new employer had not suggested she remove her hat or coat, and now he neglected to invite her to sit down. Mr. Carlisle was definitely in urgent need of tuition in the normal politesse of everyday life. He didn’t even seem to care that it was rude to stare. At any other time, as part of her expanded job description, she would have tactfully pointed out these lapses.
Feeling self-conscious in the focus of Jack’s gaze, she dropped onto one corner of the six-foot-long black leather couch and sank gratefully into its soft and comfortable embrace. She would ignore him. But when she lowered her eyes, she found herself staring at his feet. Silence fell, broken only by the occasional hiss and crackle of the logs burning cozily in the open fireplace. To her relief, Jack got up and walked over to the curved corner bar.
Soon the warmth, the gradual relaxation of her tense mood and equally tense muscles began to make her sleepy. Maybe, if she hadn’t been so exhausted it would never have happened. Whatever, she could feel her eyelids growing heavier and heavier until she no longer had the will to prevent them from closing.
Meanwhile, Jack stood leaning on the corner bar. He drummed his fingers on the glass top. From the row of glasses arrayed on the shelf above, he selected a heavy-based tumbler. He unscrewed the top off a bottle of whiskey, poured himself a decent shot, then grabbed a couple of ice blocks from the small bar fridge. Lifting the glass in a toast to himself, he took a sip. The distinctive, woodsy taste filled his mouth, and slid in a fiery stream down his throat. What a situation. This was not at all what he’d been expecting.
His cousin, Tabitha James, had started the ball rolling. On the phone, he’d told her about needing more capital.
“What for?” she asked.
“There’s this new method of bonding metals that I’ve discovered. I have to develop further applications for it.”
“What happened to your other investors?”
“Everyone’s skittish because of the downturn in the economy.”
“Have you approached Uncle Avery?”
“Sure.” Jack sighed. “But the old fart says he’s got reservations. He’s holding off on final approval.”
Apparently Simon, Tabitha’s brother, had voiced his own biased opinion of Jack’s lack of proper manners, uncultivated ways and inability to settle down. He’d reminded Uncle Avery of that fiasco when Jack was twenty-three, freshly graduated from college. The time he accidentally hit the prime minister on the back of the head with an escargot.
Simon had their uncle’s ear. Not only was he on the spot, but recently he’d been appointed international marketing manager for the family corporation, which manufactured hard-rock mining machinery and equipment. Uncle Avery would visit soon to check up for himself, and in the meantime had advised Jack to find a suitable woman of good breeding. The right spouse was a tremendous advantage in life. So it was vital to Jack’s future that he play along with old Avery, get someone to help smarten him up, coach him in etiquette and bring an element of class and organization into his life. Otherwise, he could kiss any chance of money goodbye.
That was when Tabby had suggested he hire a butler, a person who would know all about manners, and could take some of the pressure off his ultrabusy life. Generally, keep him in line. If he paid a higher fee, both roles could be combined, and she had just the right candidate.
After mulling over the idea, he’d decided to go for it. His mind went back to the closing dialogue of that fateful phone call.
“There’s only one person available, Jack. The only snag—”
“Great. Just e-mail me the details—employment conditions, name and time and date of arrival.”
“I just want to mention one thing—”
“No, no. If you have someone who fits the bill, I’m happy.”
“Are you positive, Jack?” Tabitha had asked.
“Sure I am.”
“Right. Then I’ll fax the contract over for you to sign.”
Now he understood the unmentioned detail, the snag, the meaning of that one thing. The man who would help ensure his future was a woman. And Tabitha, when she had faxed the contract, had spelled the name “Freddy,” leading him to believe his butler was male.
He supposed it might be polite to offer her a drink, seeing as she hadn’t yet officially assumed her duties. He scratched up a handful of peanuts from another small dish he’d set out on the frosted-glass bar counter in anticipation of company coming, and chewed on them.
The other part of Uncle Avery’s stipulations had also caused problems finding a proper woman. Because of working more than full-time for Quaxel, the branch of the family corporation that his father had founded in Canada, as well as putting in hours on his own innovative product at night, Jack was out of circulation. During university days he’d played the field, but shortly after, settled into a relationship that had lasted for three years, until Clare was offered a job on the West Coast. By then they had both realized that, while they were comfortable with each other, there was no passion in their relationship.
His sister had fixed him up with a few of her friends, and the results had been awkward and embarrassing.
Eventually, he’d decided to consult the experts. That’s what his dad had always done. So Jack contacted the most exclusive dating agency in town, and was hoping they’d come up with a woman who could please both him and Uncle Avery. Number one, the pick of the crop, was due to arrive at any minute.
Strange that Ms. Elliott hadn’t said anything since she’d sat down. She’d been mouthy enough before that.
Jack turned to her and asked, “How soon could you leave, do—”
He broke off. It was obvious he wasn’t going to get an answer. Freddi had keeled over sideways on his couch. Her Mad Hatter’s tea party hat had fallen off and was now settled neatly in the center of the Persian carpet. Its owner lay dead to the world. Either she’d drunk too much on the plane or she was flat-out exhausted.
Gingerly,
