Naughty Temptations

Chapter One

Chapter One

Brad Carpenter entered the office and approached his employer slowly, trying to gauge his mood before he spoke. He liked Andrew Robertson, who preferred to be called Drew, but the younger man had been through a lot. When his scars ached or the memories overtook him, he could be unpredictable.

It looked like today might be one of his better days, however. Drew smiled when he looked up and saw Brad, and he nodded to a chair.

Drew had hired Brad six months previously to renovate the gardens of the mansion. In the time since, a close friendship had grown between them, despite the difference in their ages and circumstances.

Brad cleared his throat after he sat. “Um… I have…” He sighed. “This is hard.”

Drew’s eyes widened. “Hell. You’re not quitting on me, are you? I know the grounds need a lot of work yet, but I thought you were excited about the challenge.”

“No! Not quitting. I just… I think I might have an answer to several of our problems.”

Drew’s sandy eyebrows rose. “Which ones?”

“The house, the decorator, and maybe…” Brad felt the heat rising in his cheeks. “A personal issue.”

A spark of laughter lit Drew’s light eyes. “Yours or mine?”

“Mine. Mostly.” Brad locked his fingers together and drew a breath before launching into the story. “I heard from my cousin Cara that an old friend could use a change. Dani’s husband died a few years ago, leaving her with two nearly grown kids and a mountain of medical bills. She’s working an office job, but my cousin says Dani isn’t happy with it. Her youngest has just left for college and she’s planning to the sell the house and move into an apartment. She’s not real happy about that either, apparently, but feels like she has no choice.”

Drew’s eyebrows rose. “So?”

“I think she might like a complete change of scene.”

“You think I should offer her a job?”

Brad nodded. “She’s really good at organizing things. She could help you sort out getting the house renovated and dealing with the decorators and all those kinds of things.”

“Can she cook?” A definite strain of interest underlay the question.

“Marvelously.”

Drew huffed a quick chuckle. “How well do you know her?”

“We grew up in the same town, went to the same high school and local college. We dated for a while before she married Tom. We’ve kept in touch off and on over the years. She’s a good person. Raised a couple of great kids. One’s a sophomore at N.C. State, the other just started at Appalachian. I think they both got some scholarship money, but I imagine it’s still increasing the financial pressure on her.”

Drew eyed him speculatively for a moment. “You want another chance with her?”

Brad chewed his lip and sought for an honest answer. “Maybe, but it would be complicated. I don’t even know if it’s possible. It’s more that I think she could use our help and she could be a lot of help in return.”

“What are the complications?” Drew asked. For a guy who was intensely private himself, he didn’t mind asking personal questions.

Again Brad felt heat flooding his face. “When we dated… Well, we slept together a few times. It was great for me, not so great for her. She… For a while she thought she was frigid. But it turned out she needed, well something more…some heavier stimulation. She started going to a b**m club. That’s where she met Tom. Turns out he was a pretty good dominant and she wanted some kind of heavy discipline. I couldn’t do that. I’m pretty sure I still can’t.”

Drew’s smile turned wry. “I see. I think.”

Brad nodded. “I don’t get it, but I’ve done some reading on it and it seems like some people just are that way. But I don’t mean to imply that you’d need to do anything or even that she would want you to. I’m just explaining why the two of us together don’t really work.”

Drew’s expression turned wary. “But maybe with a third you could?”

“I don’t know. And that’s not why I brought it up. Maybe down the road, we could work something out, if everyone… But for now, I’m just saying she could be what you need to manage this place. And cook for us.” To lighten the atmosphere, he added, “Neither of us is very good at it.”

“You’re not kidding,” Drew shot back. “That stew last night was awful. You may be a genius with plants in the ground, but not in the crockpot.” He tapped his fingers on his desk. “I’ll ask her to come and talk to me about it. Can I tell her you recommended her for the job?”

“Tell her an old friend did. That should make her curious enough to ensure she’ll come and talk to you about it.”

*****

Danielle Scott had to keep reminding herself to close her mouth as she drove her twelve-year-old Toyota up to the door of Andrew Robertson’s home. When they’d spoken on the phone, he’d called it a house. A large house. She called it a mansion. The house she and Tom had lived in for sixteen years would fit inside this place at least ten times over. On the other hand, it did have a bit of a neglected air. Paint peeled off the window frames and trim, and only one shabby rocking chair and an empty planter box graced the long front porch. A plank squeaked and rocked as she climbed the steps to the front door.

Had Brad Carpenter been the anonymous “friend” behind the invitation to come here and talk about a job? Did she dare hope so? She wasn’t even sure why she hoped so. Their relationship had been so complicated.

The man who answered the knock wasn’t Brad. This was a much younger man, somewhere around thirty, tall and lean, with blond hair and blue-gray eyes. An otherwise handsome face was marred by a patch of shiny scar tissue that ran down part of his left cheek back to his ear and continued in a swath down his throat and neck before it disappeared under the tee shirt he wore. It looked like a burn and wasn’t very old.

He held out a hand. “Mrs. Scott? Andrew Robertson. Please come in.” His handshake was firm but not crushing.

She stepped into a foyer that had once been a grand entranceway. Now the floor tile was cracked and uneven, paint peeled from the woodwork, and dust covered a few awkward tables and chairs plunked down almost randomly in the space. A huge chandelier hung from the ceiling, but many of its crystals were either cracked or missing and broken chains dangled from it.

“You see why I need help,” Robertson said. “I bought this place eight months ago, and only got it habitable three months ago. That’s minimally habitable. It still needs a lot of work, and, frankly, managing this kind of project isn’t my favorite thing.”

“It does need work,” she agreed. “You’d want me to oversee renovations for you?”

“That’s part of the job.” He led the way down a dimly lit corridor, made even drearier by dark-patterned wallpaper, to his office. They entered a much brighter space. The smell of fresh paint pervaded the room. Two large unadorned windows let in plenty of sunshine, highlighting the new, upscale office furniture. He nodded for her to sit in one of the two deeply cushioned leather chairs that faced the desk. “I do need someone to manage the place. We’ll need to have a cleaning service come in regularly. I need someone to oversee the renovations and the decorating and all that sh—stuff.” He offered a wry, grin. “I was told that you were a good cook. I need that too. Maybe not every day, but at least some days.”

“I assume that was the mysterious ‘old friend’ who said I could cook?” At his nod she added, “May I ask who this old friend is?”

“He’ll be here in a couple of minutes. In the meantime, tell me about yourself.”

Dani had to work to keep her mind on what she was telling him. Her thoughts kept slipping away to the “friend” who recommended her. She suspected—hoped—it was Brad Carpenter. To see him again… But she didn’t want to let any hope grow.

Even as she told him about her background, her thoughts wanted to slip away to her old friend and lover. She wouldn’t turn to watch the door, but she stayed alert for footsteps in the hallway.

Andrew Robertson listened to her rambling recitation. “Would it bother you to live out here away from the city?” he asked when she finished.

“Not at all. It’s beautiful country. I love it. And it’s not really that far from Asheville.”

“How would you feel about a three-month trial run? I’d pay for your current place for the time so you won’t lose it if it doesn’t work out.”

“That sounds fair,” she agreed. She couldn’t entirely suppress a gasp when he mentioned a salary. “That’s very generous,” she choked out.

He shrugged. “I’m not always the easiest person to work for. Your friend will tell you what a temperamental devil I can be. Erratic, too. The hours may not be as regular as most jobs. And I value my privacy. I require your total discretion. You don’t talk to anyone else about my life, my work, or any of my other activities.”

“Of course not. I—” Footsteps sounded in the hall. Dani’s heart rate sped up and her breathing grew shallower. She hesitated to turn around and look when the steps reached the door of the office.

The voice told her all she needed. The warm, smooth baritone had just a hint of growl beneath. When he said her name, “Dani,” it washed over her like a breath of warm spring air.

She fought the urge to stand up and run into his arms. But then she turned to look at him, and his smile wiped away any memory of why she shouldn’t go to him. Brad’s arms wound around her, pulling her into the warmth and strength of his body. She reveled in the familiar rough texture of his chambray work shirt and the aromas of rich soil and fragrant herbs that seemed an essential part of him.

After a moment, they pulled apart to study each other. The years sat lightly on him. His tall, lean frame remained as straight as ever. A few new lines in his face only enhanced the good bones and twinkling gray eyes. The dark hair was still full, though streaked with gray as well. He looked amazingly good for a man of forty-six.

She was all too aware that she wasn’t as thin as she used to be, and had a few more lines herself. He still had that uncanny ability to read her thoughts. His lips curled onto a wry smile. “You look even more gorgeous than last time I saw you,” he said. “The extra pounds look good on you. You used to be too thin.”

“Flatterer.” She jabbed at his arm.

“Nothing of the sort. I just—”

“Ahem.” The noise from behind reminded her they weren’t alone, that her potential employer still sat there, watching, apparently more amused than angry, thank goodness. “Brad, why don’t you take Mrs. Scott for a tour of the house and grounds.” To her he said, “Take some time to think about it. I’ll call you in the next couple of days.” Robertson waved them away and picked up some papers from his desk.

“Did I tell you how good it is to see you again?” Dani asked as they walked down the hall, away from Drew’s office. “It’s been too long.”

“Way too long.” Brad draped an arm over her shoulder as he directed her farther down the hall away from the reception area. “This is slated to be the business wing of the house,” he said. “Drew wants to set up an office for the household over here, and an office for a business assistant in there. He says he’ll need someone to help with that too.”

They poked into a few small, dingy, empty rooms. At the far end a doorway opened into a huge, bright area that must’ve been a ballroom at one time. It comprised the entire eastern wing of the place. “He hasn’t said what he plans to do with this room.”

Dani walked across a scuffed and dusty hardwood floor to one of several curtainless, floor-to-ceiling windows on the far wall. They looked out over a hillside with bluish peaks in the distance.

Brad moved to stand beside her. “I think you’d like it here.” The words were tight with tension.

“I think I would too.” She looked around at the faded remains of a once-grand room. “It has good bones, this house.”

She moved to the door and Brad followed. “It does,” he agreed. “Drew would like to see it shine again.”

“Can anything so long neglected be truly restored?”

Brad led her past Drew’s office, the entrance area, and along the hall on the opposite side. “It will take a lot of work and a lot of loving care, but, yes, I think it can. When the foundation and the framework are so strong, I believe it can.”

Dani stopped to look at him. The deep, serious expression caught and held her for a moment. “Brad, I…” She shook her head.

One corner of his mouth lifted into a hint of a smile, but he just turned and opened a door to another large, empty room. “Drew wants to turn these into a couple of nice guest suites.” He pointed to a closed door at the far end of the corridor. “That’s Drew’s private quarters.” Dani guessed that area mirrored the ballroom on the other end of the house.

“Now come look at another area that has already been renovated,” Brad suggested “You’ll be impressed.”

They retraced their steps to the center reception hall, and Brad led the way toward the back of the house. She gasped as they walked into an enormous, fabulous, exquisitely modern kitchen. A huge island with a sink in one side, acres of granite countertops, dozens of cabinets, modern stainless steel appliances, and assorted smaller devices made the room a cook’s dream setting. Light flooded in from French doors that opened onto a broad expanse of terrace. “Wow. This is amazing.”

“I thought you’d be impressed.”

She turned to him again. “You know me pretty well.”

His expression turned serious. He took one of her hands. “It’s still there. The bond between us.”

A sudden obstruction prevented her from speaking, so she nodded instead. Brad smiled again, then leaned forward to place his lips on hers. The touch was whisper-soft and gentle for a moment, then his lips parted and he swiped his tongue around hers. The heat started with a tingle radiating from her mouth, but grew into flames pouring through her veins. She opened to let him explore. For a few minutes she knew only the thrilling pleasure of contact, heard only the rush of breath through her nose and the fierce pounding of her heart.

Then abruptly he pulled back. “Spark’s still there, too,” he pronounced.

It took her a moment to regain control. “So are the problems,” she reminded him. “And it’s been such a long time.”

Brad looked around the kitchen. “Can this house be made to shine again the way it once did?”

“Well, of course. Look at the kitchen.”

“It takes time and energy to redo a house like this. The willingness to work at it. Some new ideas, too, to update it.”

She tried to listen to what he was really saying. “You think we could—?”

He shrugged. “I’d like to give it a chance.”

“He hasn’t offered me the job yet.”

“He will. You’re exactly what he needs.” Brad drew a sharp breath. “Taking the job doesn’t commit you to anything with me. That’s totally separate. But I will try to convince you we can work. I… have a few new ideas, too. Now, come look at what I’m doing with the gardens.”

He didn’t give her time to respond before he turned and started toward the doors to the terrace in back. As they walked out onto a wide concrete patio and down two sets of shallow steps, Brad outlined his plans for the garden, going on at length about the plants he wanted and what he intended to put where. She got the message that he didn’t intend to say any more about their relationship just then.

Instead she asked, “Did Drew inherit his money?”

“Some. But he also invested a lot of it in a tech startup that went public six months ago. Apparently he made an enormous killing on that. And he’s managed some other good real estate investments as well. He seems to have a bit of a Midas’ touch.”

“He must not be lucky on everything. Those scars are nasty.”

Brad nodded grimly. “And those are just the ones you can see. He was in the military. Did a couple of tours of duty in the Middle East. Ran into some kind of explosive there. I don’t know all the details. He doesn’t like to talk about it, but I know a couple of his guys were killed. He barely survived. Was in the hospital for months. Has had several surgeries and will likely need more.”

“Good Lord. Poor guy.”

Brad looked around. “Word of advice. Don’t pity him. Don’t let him see it, anyway. He hates it. But he still has some pain from the injuries, and some days are worse than others. He’s moody, and his dark moods can be trying.”

“No wife or girlfriend?”

“Not that I know of. He does go out to some club or other most weekends, but he hasn’t ever brought anyone back here.”

“That’s a shame. He’s a good-looking young man, even with the scars.”

Brad just shrugged and turned back toward the house. Dani looked at her watch and yelped. “I’d better get going if I want to get back before dark.”

He stopped. “Wait. Before you leave.” She watched, mystified, as he went to the shed and got a pair of clippers. He cut half a dozen fragrant, late-summer roses and wrapped them in paper towels for her. “Trim the stems and put them in water as soon as you get back.” He leaned down and gave her a quick peck on the lips as he handed her the bunch of flowers.

The perfume of the roses filled the car as she drove down the mountain and back to Atlanta. It stirred memories and hopes. Hopes she really shouldn’t indulge but couldn’t entirely push out of her head. As she unwrapped the flowers from the paper and trimmed off the dry ends of the stems, one of the thorns poked her thumb, drawing a drop of blood. That seemed like a good omen to her. Most people wouldn’t view it that way, but she wasn’t most people.