A Beauty Uncovered. Andrea Laurence
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husband over her scarred son, that was just as well.
Brody wasn’t sure he would ever understand women. He was smart, caring and successful, but most women didn’t see anything but the scars. And at the same time, his mother was attending every parole hearing, waiting for the day his abusive father was released from jail and they could be together again.
It was better he stay in seclusion, he decided. Women, beautiful or otherwise, meant nothing but trouble and pain. He was certain that his new assistant was no different. She was a novelty, a shiny new toy. It wouldn’t take long before the shine would wear off and he could put his focus back on his work.
Dating the secretary was not only passé, it was a bad idea. Even fantasizing about it was certain to cause problems down the road. He’d be wise to keep his distance until Agnes returned.
Brody turned back to the surveillance monitors and found Samantha sitting alone at the desk. She looked so lovely with a blond curl falling across her forehead. It made him want to go out there, introduce himself and brush the hair from her face. It was a stupidly unproductive thought. He needed to stay as far from Samantha as he could. That meant working hard to put a sturdy barrier between them.
He pressed the button on the speakerphone. “Where is Agnes?” he asked.
His tone was a little sharp, and he’d deliberately skipped the pleasantries. He could tell she took offense to it by the way she straightened up at the desk and frowned at the phone. She brushed her curls over her shoulder with a sharp flick of her wrist and leaned in. “Good afternoon, Mr. Eden,” she said in a pleasant voice, pointedly ignoring his question and emphasizing his lack of manners.
Interesting. Molly, his foster mother, would have his hide for being this rude, but he depended on his unpleasant reputation. It kept people away. Hopefully it would keep Samantha away, too. “Where is Agnes?” he repeated.
“She went downstairs to take a file to accounting and to pick up your lunch from the lobby. She left me here to watch the phones.”
Lunch. He’d almost forgotten he’d ordered food from his favorite Thai restaurant. “When she comes back, tell her to bring my lunch in. I want to ask her something.”
He watched her on the monitor as she considered her words for a moment before pressing the intercom button again. “You know, she’s going to be gone for a month and you’re pretty much stuck with me. Might as well start now. How about I bring in your lunch, introduce myself and you can ask me your question? I’m sure if I don’t know the answer, I can find it out.”
She was certainly a feisty one. Her second day on the job and she was already trying to push her way into his office. He was going to put off speaking to her face-to-face for as long as possible. Maybe even entirely, if he could.
“That won’t be necessary, Miss Davis. Just send in Agnes when she returns.”
There was very nearly steam coming out of her ears as she leaned in with a chipper “Yes, sir.”
Brody watched for a few minutes as she angrily straightened up all the items on her desk. When that was done, she looked up at the camera. The breath caught in his lungs for a moment as he was pinned by her dark glare. He knew she couldn’t see him, but it felt as though she really were looking right at him.
Looking at him without fear or pity or revulsion. She was irritated, yes, but he’d take that in a heartbeat to have a beautiful woman look him in the eye and not flinch.
Too bad it wouldn’t be the same once there were no cameras between them.
Two
“I need this job. I need this job. I need this job.”
Sam pressed into her temples and repeated the mantra to herself every time Mr. Eden buzzed her desk, but it didn’t do much to improve her mood. Frankly, it had given her a miserably pounding headache. It had only been three days without Agnes, but her godmother couldn’t come back soon enough. She had the touch for dealing with the beast, but Sam obviously did not.
Agnes had warned her he was “prickly,” and there couldn’t be a more accurate description of him. He just rubbed her the wrong way. Okay, he was busy. He had an empire to run. But would it kill the guy to be friendly or at the very least, polite? To ask how her day was or to tell her good morning? But no, he only barked commands at her. “Get me this.” “Go do that.” “Pick up my lunch.”
She’d already come to terms with the fact that she was never getting into his office. He had shut down any suggestion she made that involved that, so the mystery would have to remain buried. But he hadn’t come out of his office, either. He was there when she arrived and still working when she left. Why force her to sign a confidentiality agreement when the only gossip she could spread was that he was a jerk? From what she’d heard around the building from other ESS employees, that wasn’t exactly a secret.
“I need this job.”
Sam glanced at a few new emails and started typing up a letter. As the day wore on, it was getting harder to concentrate on her work. The headache was getting worse and she was starting to feel queasy. She hadn’t had a full-blown migraine in a while, but if stress set one off, that’s probably where she was headed. Her monitor was too bright. Every sound shot a sharp pain through her skull. She needed to go home, pop one of her migraine pills and take a nap to cut off the worst of it.
“Mr. Eden?” Sam pressed the speakerphone button, as much as she didn’t want to.
“Yes?” His response, as usual, was impatient and short.
“I’m not feeling well. Do you mind if I go home?”
“Is it terminal?”
His blunt question startled her. “I don’t think so.”
“Is it contagious?”
Her new boss certainly had high standards for sick days. If she wasn’t on her deathbed or in quarantine, he didn’t seem to care. “No, sir. It’s a migraine. My pain medicine is at home.”
He didn’t respond, but a moment later, the silver drawer shot out. Sam rose slowly from her chair and walked over. There was a lone bottle of ibuprofen in it. That wasn’t quite going to cut it. Apparently Mr. Eden was not afflicted with migraines. But his answer was clear. No, she couldn’t go home. She took the pills out and swallowed a couple. It was better than nothing. Maybe if she caught it before it was full-blown, she could keep it from getting too bad.
“I ordered Italian delivery for lunch,” he said as though they hadn’t had the previous discussion and the issue was resolved. “They should be in the lobby in about fifteen minutes.”
It took everything she had not to reply, “And?” He didn’t care that she didn’t feel well. He didn’t even bother to ask her to go get it for him, much less say “please” or “thank you.” It was just implied. He never asked her if she wanted to order, either. If she felt better, she might want to smother her irritation with a layer of mozzarella cheese, but she was never given the option.
Sam couldn’t quite figure out if he was some kind of genius who was thoughtless of others or if he just didn’t consider her worthy of his attention.
“Put it through the drawer when it arrives,” he added as though there were another option. He wasn’t going to let her bring it to him, so in the drawer it had to go.
Without responding, Sam reached for her purse, pulled out a couple dollars and picked up the laundry bag he’d left by her desk that morning. If she wasn’t going home, she might as well carry on as best she could. While she was downstairs, she’d drop off his dry cleaning and grab a turkey wrap from the deli next door. Maybe some caffeine would help. If she left now, she’d have enough time to run over and get back before the deliveryman arrived.
Her timing was perfect. As she strolled back into the lobby, she saw the delivery guy at the desk with a sack of food. Sam grabbed it from him and headed through the