sat down, crossed her legs and prepared for a grilling by her older sister. “Telford Harrington is, so far as I have been able to determine, a gentleman. That’s the sum total of my knowledge of the man.”
“My, my. And we’re so precise. If he’s too much of a gentleman, he can be a bore. What do you think of the place?”
She told her, adding, “Nobody who lives here is suffering.”
“Does he have any brothers?”
Alexis laughed aloud, figuring she’d get some of her own. “Two of ’em. Drake, the one I met, makes Billy Dee Williams look ordinary.”
Velma’s whistle burned her ear. “Quit lying, girl. When I look at Billy Dee in those old movies, I just get plain unconscious. He’s da man. If this brother’s in Billy Dee’s class, honey, look for me, and soon.”
“Trust me. He’s a sizzler.” She could picture Velma’s mental machine at work.
“If he’s so hot, what’s wrong with him that you’re not interested?”
“No chemistry.” That much was true. “And I work for these guys.”
“Do you think you’ll be able to carry it off, hon? That’s hard work, and you’re not used to it. I could strangle Jack Stevenson.”
“As Grandma used to say, ‘let him lie.’ I have Tara—or did have. She has mutual affairs going with both Harringtons and the cook.” Alexis wiped the dampness from beneath her eyes. “Jack ignored Tara, and she is really basking in the attention these men give her. I think she’s fallen for Telford.”
“Telford, huh? So that’s his name?”
“Would you please back up, Velma? I am not interested in these men.”
“Of course you aren’t. If one of those blood brothers is a knockout, so are the others. That thing runs in families, and I’ll bet Telford’s good-looking and you’re sweet on him. Anyhow, I want to meet Drake.”
“No, you don’t. He’s younger than you are.”
“Don’t start preaching. If he’s of legal age, intelligent, otherwise mature and has everything in the right places, so what?”
Alexis couldn’t help laughing. “Drake Harrington is an architectural engineer and time enough for you and a few more women. If you meet him, you’ll have to pay me not to tell him what you just said.”
“I’m crying a river. What about the other brother?”
He was a question mark, an important one, because she didn’t know how he would react to Tara. “Haven’t seen him yet, but Drake referred to him as ‘old sourpuss.’ He’s the middle brother. When can you come visit me?”
“Soon as you can get the family together. I want my pick of those brothers.”
“I’ll bet. How’s business?”
“Great. I just signed to cater the Omega convention. And keep your fingers crossed. I’m bidding for the AKA annual.”
“I’m proud of you, sis. I wish you’d show me how to make that crisscross lemon-almond cake.”
“Get me a Harrington, and I will.”
“I’ll… I think that’s the doorbell. I’d better answer it. Talk to you later.”
She rushed down the long hallway to the front door, peeped out and saw a black Mercedes parked in front of the house. She slipped on the chain, cracked the door and peeped at the visitor.
“You can open it,” Henry called to her, and she wondered why he hadn’t done that himself.
She flung the door open and gaped at the man who continued to stand there staring at her. “I’m Russ Harrington,” he said at last and brushed past her.
Forgetting that she was the housekeeper, she left the door ajar in a kind of reprimand and walked past him.
“Just a minute, miss. Where’s Drake?”
“Drake? I haven’t the slightest idea.”
“Then who’re…what’re you doing here?”
“I’m Alexis Stevenson, and I’m not visiting either one of your brothers. I’m the housekeeper.”
His lower lip dropped. “The what?”
“The housekeeper. Dinner’s at seven.” She walked off and left him wide-eyed and openmouthed.
She’d finally met a Harrington she wasn’t sure she liked, and she was almost certain that he wouldn’t like Tara.
Chapter 3
“Well, I’ll be damned. If she’s a housekeeper, I’m William the Conqueror.” Russ walked into the kitchen hoping that Henry would enlighten him, but he wasn’t there. He moved up the stairs at a slow pace. Surely, Telford hadn’t lost his mind and hired that woman to… He stopped on the stairs, took out his cell phone and dialed Telford’s cell number.
He skipped the greeting. “Man, I just got home, and this woman who looked as if she was about to entertain the governor opened the door and told me she’s the housekeeper. Tell me she’s lying or that you’re having a little fun at my expense.”
“Henry’s getting too old to look after that big house, and the place needs more than a—”
Russ sucked in his breath and interrupted his older brother. “So what you’re telling me is the woman gliding around here in a long red getup is a housekeeper you hired. Have you lost your mind?”
“She’s competent. How’d it go in Barbados?’
“More or less as we thought. Five stories and a one-level basement is the maximum, and don’t try to get me off the subject of this glamour girl who’s posing as a housekeeper.” The more he thought about losing his privacy, the madder he got. “I don’t care if she has a PhD in housekeeping, I’m not changing my life for her. You expect me to walk around here fully clothed, keep my room door closed and—”
“Give it a rest, Russ. She and I signed a two-year contract, and it’s binding. Besides, she not a housekeeper; the contract says she’s a homemaker.”
“Whatever. You could at least have hired somebody who looked like a housekeeper. Humph. Homemaker. I thought she was Drake’s latest conquest, and I think I upset her by acting as if she were.”
Telford’s whistle pierced his ears. “I’ll bet that rang her bell.”
“Did it ever. You should have seen how fast her back went up. Where are you right now?”
“I’m in Frederick.”
“Well, you’d better come here and straighten out this mess. Give her a big severance check. Anything. She’s got to go.”
