for what appeared to be love. She wouldn’t live under a man’s thumb. Nor would she freely give her heart away, at least not to the wrong kind of man.
Thank goodness Carson Banick was the wrong kind of man.
Carson looked at the calendar and grimaced. Three months behind schedule.
“We need you to get this right,” his father had said last night. “The family has fallen down on its commitments to the business, to our communities and to our loyal employees, Carson. One failure affects everyone who associates with Banick. It has always been that way, going back to the European inns where the Banick legend began. People count on us. They trust us. You know that. We can’t break that trust.”
Now Carson stifled a groan. His parents were stodgy and stuffy. He knew better than anyone how unbending and even unfeeling they could be, but they had principles and they lived by them. They were only being what they’d always been and doing what they’d always done. He was the one who had shrugged off his responsibilities in the past. He was the one responsible for Patrick’s current condition, and it was up to him to do something about the existing crisis, not only for the business and the family but for his own peace of mind.
Over the past few months, since Patrick’s fall, Carson had watched his loving, joyful brother lose the use of his legs and eventually lose the hope of returning to a normal life. After completing rehab, Patrick had holed himself up in a luxury apartment with only a nurse for company and he didn’t welcome Carson’s weekly visits. Patrick had rebuffed all Carson’s assistance, but he had to help his brother in some way.
He looked up at the clock. It was almost nine. Time to begin, he thought as Beth Krayton came through the door. It was obvious she had been rushing. Her hair was windblown; her ugly navy balloon of a skirt had flipped up slightly in the back. She looked deliciously flushed.
Carson grimaced. Bad choice of words. Delicious shouldn’t figure into things.
Carefully Beth smoothed one hand over her skirt as if that would repair the wind damage. She stood up straighter and smiled. “Good morning, Mr. Banick. I’m ready.”
Carson blinked at that and tried not to think any prurient thoughts. Ridiculous. She didn’t even look like a woman a man would have prurient thoughts about. His brother would never have had such improper thoughts about an employee.
He smiled tightly. “Well, we have a lot to do. We’re meeting with the city planning committee in two hours.”
“We?” Her voice seemed suddenly a bit weak.
He ignored that. He had hired her. Now they had to make this work.
Frowning, Carson continued, “Yes, I’ll need you to take notes and help me focus on any problem areas I might miss. You’ll need…” He gazed at her skirt. “You’ll need a change of clothing.”
Immediately she blushed. “This is what I have right now, other than what I was wearing yesterday. I haven’t had a chance to complete my work wardrobe yet.”
At the auto parts store she had probably worn jeans. He tried not to think about the fact that her slender body and fresh, pretty face would perfectly complement any pair of jeans known to man.
“Your skirt will be fine for my office, but for this meeting you’ll need a suit. We’ll take care of that right away.” When she held out one hand in protest he waved away her objections.
“Ms. Krayton. This job…well, it’s not business as usual. My brother began this project but he’s temporarily indisposed. We’re well behind schedule and the planning commission was kind enough to grant me an audience on short notice. That doesn’t mean they’ll roll over and accede to our every wish. They have a job to do and responsibilities to this town. I have a job to do and a responsibility to my brother and to my business. In order to win the commission members over on as many points as possible, we’ll have to do everything right. Image is important. It’s part of your job. I’m buying clothing for you. Right now.”
She looked him full in the face and the impact of that nakedly appealing expression was like a blow. Her emotions were written as clearly in her eyes as if a pen had put them there. Pride warred with need.
“All right. I understand,” she said. “I’m willing, but—”
He raised a brow. “But?”
She looked away. “I have zero fashion sense.”
“I do. Let’s go.” Rising to his feet, he moved around his desk and held out his hand.
She stared at him as if he’d just suggested something illicit. “You’re going to help me pick out clothes?”
Carson smiled. “If you really have zero fashion sense, I’m going to choose the clothing.”
“You’ll tell me what to wear.” Was that a stubborn note in her voice?
“Is that a problem? As I said, appearance is part of the job.”
Beth took a visible breath before nodding. “I’m sorry for hesitating. Being raised by four brothers, I’ve had to argue for the right to do things my way, but you’re right. Appearance is part of the job, and you’re the expert.”
She tilted her chin up and prepared to move toward the door. It was clear that she was a woman with a lot of pride, and he had just asked her to ignore that.
“Beth?” he said gently.
She turned slightly, her hair catching the glint of sunlight, turning it to copper. “Thank you,” he said.
Rather than respond to his gratitude, she looked at her watch, a slight hint of pink in her cheeks. “The meeting is in only two hours? Well, we’d certainly better get going if we’re to get back and have time for you to fill me in on everything I need to know.”
Carson chuckled. “Well, it seems I hired the right person to keep me in check. I tend to be hopelessly late and I have a bad habit of coming and going as I please.”
She rolled her eyes.
“What?” he asked as he walked out the door and led her to his car.
“Coming and going as you please might be considered hopelessly arrogant by some.”
“Yes. But I’m trusting you to get me there on time.”
She laughed, a low, earthy sound that reminded Carson of wine, candlelit bedrooms and sin. He tried not to panic at the images that would only interfere with what he was trying to do for Patrick.
“Here,” he said a few minutes later, opening the door to a boutique that specialized in classic clothing.
Beth walked in the door ahead of Carson. He hadn’t thought of it before, but the place smelled of class, of opulence. She stood there looking uncomfortable and small and pretty and completely out of place.
“Please…fix me up,” she said, her voice husky and thick. “And quickly.”
Her words were practical, but they sounded erotic to Carson’s ears. He ignored his reaction.
Instead he nodded
