Who's The Boss?. Barbara Boswell
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the taunt in his tone this time. “Yeah, sure. March in Ohio is a veritable paradise, especially when a place is as close to Lake Erie as Port McClain. We’ve got the notorious take-effect winds, temperature and record snowfalls. Port McClam, the perfect place, the perfect time. Wonder if the Chamber of Commerce could pitch the town as the newest winter vacation destination?”
“We get enough snow in Port McClain to be a ski resort,” Bridget stated. “Except it’s totally flat here. We don’t even have a hill. But it would be cool to have a ski lodge anyway, wouldn’t it, Cade?” She completely ignored Kylie.
“What’s the point of a ski lodge without any skring?” Cade was clearly not taken with Bridget’s idea.
“It could be like a Club Reek with a fireplace,” Bridget explained. “Sort of an antiski lodge.”
“An antiski lodge, hmm?” Cade echoed, smiling.
Or was he grimacing? Kylie found it difficult to differentiate. “Let me rephrase from a perfect time to visit to a convenient time to visit,” she suggested quickly, before Bridget went off on another tangent.
“And has your visit been convenient so far?” Cade asked.
He sounded so unctuously solicitous that Kylie guessed he was aware that so far her visit had been anything but convenient. “No,” she admitted grimly. “No, it hasn’t.”
“You arrived in Port McClain last night, I believe? And planned to stay in Gene’s house,” Cade prompted.
“Uncle Gene’s house is currently uninhabitable.” Kylie was sure she wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. “I’d written to both Uncle Guy and Uncle Artie two weeks ago and asked them to have the electricity, water, gas and phone service turned on in the house and to hire a cleaning service to prepare the place for occupancy.”
“Let me guess, nothing had been done,” Cade surmised. “Your first mistake was asking both Artie and Guy, and then letting them know you’d asked them both. You unwittingly set up a Brennan double play. Artie and Guy could each claim that he thought the other was taking care of the house, while each did nothing. Meanwhile, both your uncles could enjoy a hearty laugh imagining you showing up at Gene’s place, which has been vacant since his funeral.”
Kylie thought of her phone calls last night to her two uncles who had each claimed he thought the other was handling her requests. It had seemed a logical, albeit annoying, slipup. But to think it was premeditated, that they’d relished the idea of her standing in the creepily dark, cold, damp and musty old house...
“That’s an awful thing to say,” Kylie scolded, rejecting his premise.
She glanced at Bridget, expecting her to second the objection. After all, Cade had insulted her father and their mutual uncle Guy.
Bridget merely shrugged. “So where’d you stay last night? Not at Uncle Gene’s Haunted Mansion, I’m sure.”
“I stayed at the Port McClain Hotel.”
Cade and Bridget looked at each other and laughed.
“That place has all the ambience of the House of Usher. And you must’ve been one of the few guests who rented a room for the night, instead of by the hour.” Cade’s eyes gleamed. “You’d have done better to stay at one of the motels off the interstate exit.”
Kylie thought of the sounds she’d heard last night in the room above her, the steady traffic through the halls. Cade’s remarks explained a lot. She shuddered. “When I talked to Aunt Lauretta last night and asked her where to stay, she said the Port McClain Hotel.”
“Wow! She deliberately sent you there?” Bridget laughed harder. “Chalk one up for Aunt Lauretta.”
“You should have contacted me about the house,” said Cade. “I would’ve taken care of all the arrangements and the place would have been ready for you. I suggest that you rely upon me, not the Brennans, while you’re here in Port McClain. Now, would you like me to have my secretary Donna make those calls to the utilities and a cleaning service for you?”
“I’ve already done all that from my hotel room this morning.” Kylie was irked by his condescending, paternalistic attitude. Did he think she was incapable of making a few phone calls? “And I intend to rely on myself while I’m here in Port McClain,” she added coolly.
“Is it true you lost your job, Kylie?” Bridget suddenly interjected. “That’s what my brother, Brent, heard from my dad who heard it from Uncle Guy. They all think you’ll be glad to sell the company ’cause if you’re out of work, you’ll need money, right? That’s what they’re hoping for. They want to sell real bad and get big bucks for their shares. Aunt Lauretta and Ian are really pushing for it, too, and—”
“Bridget, this is company time and you’re wasting it.” Cade interrupted her, his tone stern, all signs of friendliness gone. “Get back to work right now.”
Bridget smoothed her hands over her short, spiky black hair. “I didn’t say anything that everybody doesn’t already know,” she said defensively. “Why would Kylie be here if she didn’t want to—”
“Bridget, if you’re not gone by the time I count to three, your pay will be docked, one hour for each number I reach.” Cade’s voice was calm but steely enough to send Bridget heading down the corridor before he even uttered “one.”
Kylie shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve never found bullying to be an effective tactic to use in dealing with—”
“You’ve obviously never had to deal with your relatives. I’ve found it effective in dealing with some Brennans, at times the only effective method of dealing with them.” He folded his arms in front of his chest and stared down at her.
It was as if he were looming over her, a most unfamiliar sensation. Kylie felt her stomach tighten. At five foot eight, she wasn’t used to feeling small and powerless in a man’s presence, but Cade Austin’s big muscular frame seemed to dwarf her. It was a disconcerting sensation. No wonder Bridget had taken off. At a petite five-two, she was like a mouse facing a lion.
Cade’s face was hard and still, and his hazel eyes watched Kylie with the same concentration said lion might focus on his intended prey. She swallowed and willed herself to maintain her composure. She was no scurrying little mouse.
“I know what you’re doing and it’s not going to work,” she said, summoning up the necessary bravado. A useful trick of the legal trade. How many times had she faked a bold confidence she was far from feeling in the courtroom?
“What am I trying to do, Kylie?”
It didn’t escape her notice that he’d used her first name for the first time. Big deal. Everybody called everybody by their first names these days; formality had gone the way of the TV antenna. So why did Cade’s use of her given name seem to create an aura of intimacy between them?
“You’re trying to physically intimidate me, Cade.” She used his first name in an attempt to counter his effect on her. To turn the disturbing intimacy into everyday, meaningless informality.
“If that’s what you think, I apologize. Physical intimidation isn’t my style.” Even as he spoke the words, his fingers closed around her upper arm. “Come into my office. We have a lot to discuss.”
“May I suggest making your invitations sound less like orders?”
A grin slashed his face. “Now why would I want to do that? There are times when one must be persuasive, Kylie.” He led her into his office, his fingers still encircling her arm.
“I believe you mean coercive. And I don’t appreciate it. Cade.”
She was excruciatingly aware of his hand on her arm, of his nearness as he walked closely alongside her. If he wasn’t physically intimidating, he was certainly physical, and she was reacting to him with a primal feminine awareness.
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