3

      PEREMPTORY AND RUDE, that was Mr. Jack Carlisle. Freddi would deal with him in the morning. For the moment, she needed to lie down and sleep. As she snuggled under the duvet, a little voice reminded her of a few other, more earthy and seductive aspects of the man who was her new employer. Those naughty whispers she would ignore. She would forget the extraordinary way her body had started to sizzle and tingle at his nearness, and how she had virtually attacked him.

      How to explain her reaction to him? Simon, her ex-fiancé, had never had such an effect on her. Neither had Navy Roger, who had been The First. She should have known that, being a sailor, he’d soon move on to wilder waters.

      It would be best to banish the incident from her mind and concentrate on the task at hand. Judging by the way Jack had behaved last night, she was going to have plenty to work on if she was going to transform this somewhat rough-edged fellow into a suave and polite gentleman.

      BACK IN THE WIDE, king-size bed, Jack had been having a wonderful dream. But now, suddenly, his fantasy had evaporated. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to recapture the fabulous feeling of feminine flesh snuggling into him. He was on the verge of success when the telephone rang, waking him up. He groaned, wiped his hands over his face and stretched to reach the demanding instrument. Just as he was within grasping distance it stopped ringing.

      The sound of a woman’s voice wafted through the thin wall. Jack’s eyebrows shot up. What the hell? Last thing he remembered…Oh yeah. That voice, those cultured vowels, those crisp consonants, belonged to Freddi Elliott, the female butler from jolly old England. Jack narrowed his eyes. Surely that luscious, fantastic, sexy dream he’d been having couldn’t possibly have featured her? Nah. Impossible. The dating desert he’d been in for too long because of all the extra hours he’d put in at the office and the laboratory was causing hallucinations.

      “Hang on a sec,” he heard her say. A pause. “Polly, do you realize it’s the middle of the night here?” Another pause, then, “Is Tabitha there?”

      Jack pursed his lips, thinking. Well, of course she would know Tabitha, but he would have expected Elliott to call her Mrs. James. Now the question was, did Freddi Elliott by any unlucky chance happen to know his archrival Simon as well? His dastardly cousin was quite capable of planting a spy in the opposite camp. He’d had it in for Jack ever since his family’s first visit to England.

      The memory of that stay, soon after his mother died, when he was ten and Louise was eight, rose up in Jack’s mind. That had been the start of the bad feeling and rivalry between the cousins. Simon, two years older than Jack and at the time a foot taller, had mocked him from the start.

      “London,Ontario?” Simon grabbed hold of Jack’s arm and twisted it behind his back. “What kind of a stupid town is that?” he taunted. “Couldn’t they even think of an original name?” That was how it began. And then, Jack beat Simon at chess, a game Simon always won effortlessly. Subsequent visits only seemed to reinforce Simon’s jealousy. Every time Jack had a success, Simon had to go one better. When Jack made the hockey team, Simon got his rowing blue. When Jack completed his engineering degree in metallurgy, Simon went for an MBA.

      The thing was, he didn’t want Simon horning in on his project. The new method of bonding metals held tremendous promise, but Uncle Avery had said it was outside of the scope of Quaxel Corporation and had advised Jack to set up a separate company.

      And the thought that Uncle Avery was being fed reports on how Jack was shaping up made him furious. Lord, the demon stress was making him paranoid. He lay on his back and squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe he’d drift right back into the dream and take up where it had left off.

      SUMMONED OUT OF SLEEP by the telephone, Freddi opened her eyes to complete darkness. Disoriented, she stretched out a hand for her bedside light. Instead of a silk-covered lampshade and alabaster base, she touched cool metal. The phone kept ringing.

      She found the switch and snatched up the receiver.

      “Hello, Freddi,” Polly’s bright tones rang in her ears. “How was the trip?”

      “Mmmph.” Freddi dragged herself upright and looked at her watch. “Polly, do you realize it’s the middle of the night here?”

      “Nah. I just got into the office. Must be at least ten-thirty.”

      “Is Tabby there?”

      “Yeah. Hang on, she wants a word too.”

      “Tabby! He’s expecting me to bring him breakfast in bed.”

      “So?”

      How to explain without revealing the faux pas she’d already committed? “So, judging from—er—the sweatpants he was wearing last night I would say he’s probably—er—rather virile.”

      “And?”

      “What if I fumble when I put the tray down or something?”

      “Just keep it professional and you’ll do fine.”

      “Yeah, but I wish—”

      On the other side of the drywall partition, Jack pricked up his ears. Nice to know she thought him virile…but he never discovered what she wished. Instead, her next question puzzled him.

      “Any sign of that snake?”

      A pause.

      “Good. Remember, you promised not to tell him where I am. He’s not getting it through his head that we’re over. I don’t need him bothering me here, too.” Another pause. Freddi was relieved to hear Tabitha say, “No problem, Freddi.”

      “Give me a call in a week if you need me to put in a progress report. Now, I’d better be getting up and dressed if I’m going to provide His Studliness with breakfast at seven.” After she put the phone down, she realized Tabitha never did say why she had called in the first place.

      Jack leaned back against the mahogany headboard, folded his arms over his chest and gave a satisfied smirk. He wouldn’t allow his suspicions to spoil his anticipation. If Freddi was here to spy on him that would be short-lived. It had been a while since he’d looked forward to breakfast with such relish. Usually he didn’t bother with more than a cup of coffee. But today…today all he could think was, Roll on seven o’clock.

      WIDE AWAKE, FREDDI sat on the edge of the bed. Five-forty. Time to start getting organized. First, she’d retrieve her luggage. Providing, of course, it wasn’t still circling around Toronto, sight-seeing from the back of the taxi.

      Clad in her overcoat, she found the light switch at the top of the stairwell. Slowly she made her way down the spiraling steps to the ground floor, wondering what lay in store for her and where her bags were. In the gloom, her toe made sudden unexpected contact with her suitcase. She almost took a tumble, but saved herself by flopping over at the waist like a puppet. How very thoughtful of Jack to leave the three packages just past the foot of the stairs. Had he intended them to act as a booby trap?

      She noticed her hat, picked it up and looked for a place to put it. Ah, the marble blind-eyed bust in the entrance hall would do. In fact, she rather liked the whimsical look she’d produced.

      Grabbing the handle of her suitcase, she lifted it an inch off the floor. No way could she get this up to the room. She’d only managed with it this far thanks to all the kind taxi drivers. She’d really packed too much! Thinking creatively, she decided to unpack downstairs and carry her things up to her room.

      Stealthily, she made several ascents and descents. At last she carried up a final armful and set about preparing her uniform. A crumpled effect would not do. With the help of the small traveling steamer she’d bought, she got rid of the creases.

      Freshly showered and dressed, Freddi checked her appearance in front of the mirrored closet. If she was going to be a butler she might as well look right. And if this job could help her rebuild her life, it would make the hassle