Taming Tall, Dark Brandon. Joan Elliott Pickart
Читать онлайн книгу.
I... Yes. Yes, I love them very much.”
Their eyes met across the gleaming counter that separated them.
Oh, Lord, Brandon thought, there it was again...the heat, that coiling heat, tight and low in his body. Andrea’s great big dark eyes did unnerving things to his mind and, heaven help him, his libido.
“Sign this,” he said, tearing his gaze from Andrea’s. He shoved a card toward her. “I’ll have Mickey show you to your room, and carry your suitcase for you. Would you like some hot soup and a sandwich sent up?”
“Yes, thank you, that would be lovely.” Andrea paused. “Brandon, I apologize for all the trouble I’ve caused since I arrived.”
“Don’t give it another thought. You haven’t been one bit of trouble.”
No, the trouble stemmed from the strange and unsettling impact that Ms. Cunningham had on him. All she had to do was gaze at him with those big, expressive dark eyes of hers and he was consumed by a flash of heated desire.
Emotions he was very unaccustomed to were not doing anything for his peace of mind, either. That protectiveness and possessiveness he’d felt toward Andrea had come out of left field.
Oh, Andrea Cunningham was trouble, all right. He was going to have to keep his distance from the enchanting Andrea during her stay at Hamilton. House.
He had an etched-in-stone rule about never becoming involved with a guest in the hotel. Not only was it tacky from a business angle, it was also potential heartache. Patrons checked in, then checked out. Poof. They were gone.
Jennifer came rushing to where Brandon stood behind the registration counter.
“I’m sorry, Brandon,” she said breathlessly. “I was covering the desk, but got called to the dining room to solve a seating problem.”
“Where’s Teddy?” Brandon said.
“He went home with the flu. He was fine one minute, a sick puppy the next.” Jennifer looked at Andrea and smiled. “I hope you’re feeling better, Ms. Cunningham.”
“It’s Andrea, and I’m fine. Thank you.”
“Wonderful,” Jennifer said. “That means you’ll be able to enjoy your stay at the hotel and take part in all the Christmas activities in Prescott. You picked the perfect place to be for the holidays. Oh, I’m Jennifer Mackane, the dining room hostess.”
“She’s more than that,” Brandon said, smiling warmly at Jennifer. “She keeps that dining room running like a well-oiled machine. I’d be lost without her.”
“How... admirable,” Andrea said, smiling politely.
Jennifer Mackane was also beautiful, she thought, with a tumble of wavy, strawberry-blond hair that fell in fetching disarray to just above her shoulders, and pretty, sparkling green eyes.
She was tall, with a Barbie doll perfect figure, accentuated by a green wool holiday dress that had a stylish drape to it.
Brandon would be lost without her? Did he mean that literally? Was this the woman of importance in Brandon Hamilton’s life?
Oh, for Pete’s sake, Andrea, she admonished herself. What difference does it make? Who Brandon might, or might not, be romantically involved with was none of her business, nor did she care one iota.
She was simply having a typical feminine reaction to Jennifer Mackane. The hostess was stunning, while there she stood looking like a drowned mouse who had staggered in from the snow.
Enough of this nonsense.
“I really would like to go to my room and get settled in,” Andrea said.
“Oh, yes, of course,” Brandon said. “I’ll page Mickey right now. He’s our teenage jack-of-all-trades, Andrea.”
“Mickey is across the street in the parking lot changing a tire for one of the guests,” Jennifer said. “I’ll cover the desk, Brandon. You can take Andrea upstairs.”
Damn it, Brandon thought. He didn’t want to. He’d just vowed to keep his distance from the woman. Seeing her to her room certainly wasn’t following his own rule. Well, there was nothing he could do about it.
He retrieved the key packet from a drawer, picked up Andrea’s suitcase and rounded the registration desk.
“Shall we go?” he said, looking anywhere but at Andrea.
“Gladly,” Andrea said. “I’m already envisioning a hot shower, shampooing my hair, and putting on lusciously dry clothes.”
Don’t think about Andrea standing naked in the shower, Hamilton, he told himself, stifling a groan. The warm water would cascade over her delicate body, then she’d raise her arms in an oh-so-feminine gesture to shampoo her hair.
She might close her eyes in ecstasy at becoming warmed through after being so cold. She’d sigh, a womanly sigh of pleasure and—
“Come on,” he said gruffly, starting across the large lobby.
“Gracious,” Andrea said, hurrying to keep up with him.
Jennifer propped her elbow on the counter, cupped her chin in her hand and watched the pair heading for the elevator.
“Interesting,” she said, smiling. “Very, very interesting.”
Hamilton House was five stories high, and part of Brandon’s restoration plan had been to create Victorian-era rooms, each with a slightly different decor. It had taken a seemingly endless number of hours conferring with a decorator to accomplish the feat, but Brandon was immensely pleased with the results.
Brandon’s suite of rooms were on the fifth floor, as were the ones where Aunt Pru and Aunt Charity resided. Walls had been knocked down to create the two apartments, leaving only two rooms for guests. Andrea had been booked into one of those rooms.
After a silent ride in the elevator, Andrea smiled in delight when she finally entered her room. She swept her gaze over the charming area.
There was a dark wood, queen-size sleigh bed, a matching desk and dresser, a small round table with a chair, and an overstuffed easy chair. The walls were decorated in pale green and vanilla-striped wallpaper, with the bedspread a shade darker green. The plush carpeting was a lovely salmon color.
“Oh, this is beautiful,” she said, turning to face Brandon where he stood just inside the closed door.
“I’m glad you like it.” He placed her suitcase on a wooden luggage rack by the door, then put the key packet on top. “I’ll have your food sent up in about an hour. Will that give you enough time to take your shower and... to do all that you are going to do?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Fine. Just call down to the desk if there’s anything you need, want, whatever. Goodbye. Oh, welcome to Hamilton House. Forget that. I think I’ve said it to you about fifteen times already.”
“Brandon?” Andrea said, frowning slightly. “Is something wrong? You seem to be...I don’t know... angry all of a sudden.”
Brandon took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, puffing out his cheeks in the process.
“No, I’m not angry, Andrea,” he said quietly. “I realize that I’m not behaving properly in my role as owner of Hamilton House. I’m sorry.”
“It must be difficult,” she said thoughtfully, “to have to always be on.”
“I’ve been doing it for six months, ever since the renovations were completed and we had the grand opening. This is the first time I’ve let my professionalism slip.”
Brandon shook his head.
“You have a strange effect on me, Ms. Cunningham. You’re a spell-weaver. I look at you and I... You’ve