The Cutting Edge. Linda Howard
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engagements, Tessa no longer had so many stars in her eyes. She was optimistic and levelheaded enough not to condemn all men because of two failed relationships, but she was also more cautious now in the way she handled romantic entanglements. She knew danger when she saw it, and that man flashed danger signals like a neon sign. So why was she tossing aside all caution now, agreeing to go out with him when she knew better?
“Because I’m an idiot,” she muttered to herself as she sat down at her desk.
Perry Smitherman, head of the bookkeeping department, came out of his office and approached her small cubicle. His high forehead was knit in a perpetual frown. “Billie Billingsley called to say you’d had a small accident. Is everything all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” Tessa removed the cold compress and explored her swollen cheekbone with a light, cautious touch. “How does it look?”
His frown pulled even tighter as he bent down and examined the bruise as thoroughly as he would check the books. “Painful,” he finally pronounced. “Do you need to go home?”
Tessa concealed her startled laughter. “No, I’m able to work,” she assured him demurely. Perry was a fussbudget, but he was kindhearted enough, and she liked him, for all his fussy ways.
“Did you go to the infirmary?”
“No. Mr. Rutland took me up to his office and put this compress on it—”
“Brett Rutland?” Perry asked sharply.
“Yes, he was in the elevator—”
His high, white forehead began to glisten with sweat. “Did he ask you anything about the department? Did he say anything about going over the books?”
Anxiety was evident in his face and his raised voice. Soothingly, Tessa said, “Not a word. He simply got the ice from his bar and wrapped it in the towel.”
“Are you certain? He never does anything without a reason. He can be subtle, when it suits him. I’m sure he’s going to go over everything; but he’ll ask around first, and try to find out if we’re slack or careless in any way.”
“You don’t have anything to worry about; the department is in good shape, and you’re a very competent manager.”
“You never know,” he said, wringing his hands. “You never know.”
He was determined to think the worst, and with a sigh Tessa gave up the effort of cheering him; he was probably happier looking for a dark lining in a silver cloud anyway. Some people simply had a melancholy outlook, and Perry was one of them.
Billie popped in during the mid-afternoon break to check on Tessa. The other woman was full of curiosity about Brett Rutland, her big brown eyes even rounder than usual as she stared at Tessa and shot questions at her faster than they could be answered. “What did he say? How long did he keep you? Were you scared? My gosh, of all the people who could have been in that elevator! Did he say why he’s here?”
Tessa picked out one question and ignored the others. “Why should I have been scared? I didn’t know who he was.”
Billie gaped. “You didn’t know Brett Rutland?”
“I knew the name, but I’d never seen him, so how could I have known him?”
Looking impatient with such logic, Billie still tried to pry more information out of Tessa, who could be infuriatingly hard to pin down when she wanted to be. “What did you say? What did he say?”
“Among other things, he told me to sit down while he got a towel,” Tessa murmured. She wasn’t going to tell Billie that he’d asked her out to dinner; just the thought of going out with him affected her nerves, jarring her out of her usual lazy contentment and making her feel jittery, and both afraid and excited at the same time. She was still tingling from the sizzling electricity of his masculinity.
Aunt Silver would adore him.
Just the thought of her aunt made Tessa smile, because Silver was the warmest, liveliest, most lovable woman in existence, and if there was anything Silver appreciated, it was an exciting man. “Sugar,” Silver had told her more than once, “if I ever stop man watching, you’ll know to bury me, because that’s a sure sign that I’m dead.” Since Silver was prospering with her small, exclusive doll shop in Gatlinburg, Tessa was certain that her aunt was still happily man watching, too.
“You’re smiling,” Billie accused. “Teresa Conway! Don’t you dare try flirting with that man! I know that look in your eyes; have you been batting your eyelashes at him?”
“With my face looking as if I’d just gone ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer?” Tessa asked in a mild voice.
“Would you let a little thing like that stop you?”
“I promise, I haven’t been flirting with Mr. Rutland.” Her eyes twinkled; evidently Mr. Rutland didn’t wait for a woman to flirt with him before he made his move. “I hope not! He’s been known to tear strips of flesh off people who have looked at him wrong.”
Several things about Brett Rutland alarmed Tessa, but not the fear that he’d tear strips of flesh off her. No, what he’d do to her flesh wouldn’t be painful at all, and that inner certainty was probably the most alarming thing she felt about him. Whenever a woman looked at a man and knew, instinctively and without doubt, that he would be able to give her exquisite pleasure, her defenses against that man were dangerously weakened. Tessa didn’t want her defenses to be weakened; she’d been hurt badly, not once but twice. Later, after time had completely healed all her emotional wounds, she wanted to try love again. But not now, she thought despairingly. I’m not ready now.
She managed to assure Billie that she hadn’t done anything shocking that could cost her her job. Billie was an uneasy mixture of laid-back California casualness and a surprising streak of prudery that was frequently shocked by Tessa’s flirtatiousness. Because she was also a loyal friend, Tessa looked out for Billie in subtle ways that no one had ever realized, though many thought that Billie had guided Tessa through the mazes and pitfalls of life in Southern California, where the normal flow of traffic was practically a death sentence for a young woman used to using a much more leisurely pace in getting from one place to another. Since Tessa had become Billie’s friend, Billie’s clothes had become simpler, more classic in style, and more suited to her short, rather rounded figure. Billie’s hairstyle now flattered her face, her makeup accentuated her large brown eyes and camouflaged her rather sallow complexion. Before, Billie’s taste in jewelry had run to heavy, clunky pieces in neon colors that had tended to make her look like a midget in the circus. Now she wore smaller pieces, well coordinated with her clothing. Billie’s social life had picked up considerably in the last year, but she never wondered why. Tessa knew why, and the knowledge filled her with quiet satisfaction. She’d been lucky; she’d had Aunt Silver to guide her in her confusing teenage days, to teach her how to dress and use makeup; not many girls were so lucky. Spreading around a little of Aunt Silver’s knowledge was the least she could do.
She’d have to remember to write to Aunt Silver about Brett Rutland; her aunt would definitely enjoy hearing about a man with navy blue eyes and a mouth that made a woman go a little crazy.
* * *
BRETT LEANED BACK in his chair, his eyes narrowed as he flipped through the scanty information in Tessa’s personnel file. There wasn’t a lot in there: She’d never been arrested, never been married and had no identifying scars or birthmarks. Her supervisor, Perry Smitherman, had given her a good evaluation, but Brett thought cynically that any normal man would find it difficult to say anything unfavorable about Tessa, even an old-maid type like Perry Smitherman.
He tossed the file onto his desk; its contents were useless. He’d find out more about her tonight.
TESSA LEANED CLOSER to the mirror and examined her