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At Your Service, Jack. Brenda HammondЧитать онлайн книгу.

At Your Service, Jack - Brenda Hammond


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      “You certainly don’t look like my butler tonight.”

      Jack’s tone turned husky and sent a shiver down Freddi’s spine. She was ultra aware of how sexily she was dressed. With his eyes on her, she felt exposed, vulnerable.

      “I approve of the getup.” His gaze was hot on hers. “Why can’t you wear those kind of clothes all the time?”

      “They’d be a bit restricting in bed.” Oh, hell, had she really said that?

      His eyes smoldered. “Are you a woman who likes a challenge?”

      “Of course I am,” she said, trying to regain some ground. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t still be working for you.”

      “Good.” He winked at her. How she wished he wouldn’t do that. It caused instant meltdown. “Want to arm wrestle?”

      Was he joking? She bit her lip, eyeing the bulging width of his biceps. She could think of better things to do.

      “What are the stakes?” she asked suspiciously.

      His smile was sensual, suggestive and enough to have every lustful cell in her body come to quivering life.

      “Don’t worry. If you’re lucky I might let you keep some of those sexy clothes on.”

      Dear Reader,

      I was flipping through the pages of a British magazine when I came across an article that recounted one woman’s experience at a school for butlers. What really caught my eye, though, was the photograph of her bringing breakfast in bed to her gorgeous hunk of an employer. Well! That was all it took to set the creative juices flowing.

      Soon I was writing about the adventures of Freddi and Jack. Every now and then my husband appeared in my study to find out what was making me chuckle. Even our Himalayan cat, Figaro (the vainest cat in North America and a substitute for our four grown kids), nosed around my keyboard to sniff out what was keeping me so entertained.

      I hope Freddi and Jack’s romance will give you a smile or two, and reaffirm the importance of love. Spinning stories such as this allows me to share the passion, laughter and joy that I’m able to find in my life. Romance novels have helped me through the light and the dark moments of my many journeys and I hope this story can do the same for you.

      Wishing you as much fun in reading this as I had in writing it!

      Brenda Hammond

      Want to know more about Brenda Hammond? Visit eHarlequin at www.eHarlequin.com/authors.

      At Your Service, Jack

      Brenda Hammond

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

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      To Nancy Frost and Eve Silver.

      Working with you is right up there

      with the best things that have ever happened to me.

      Contents

       Chapter 1

       Chapter 2

       Chapter 3

       Chapter 4

       Chapter 5

       Chapter 6

       Chapter 7

       Chapter 8

       Chapter 9

       Chapter 10

       Chapter 11

       Chapter 12

       Chapter 13

       Chapter 14

       Chapter 15

       Chapter 16

       Chapter 17

       Chapter 18

       Chapter 19

       Chapter 20

      1

      FREDERICA IMOGEN ELLIOTT negotiated the icy steps leading up to the oak-paneled front door, a flight bag dangling from one hand. Her fancy, lizard-skin boots were definitely not up to keeping a grip on Toronto’s pavements in March. The leather soles slithered and slipped all over the place. And she didn’t appreciate the fast-flying snow that seemed determined to blanket her. Thank goodness her stiff-brimmed hat kept the flakes out of her eyes.

      At the top, her gaze met the eye-level, brassy glare of the door knocker—a lion with an overbite problem. Seizing the ring, she gave it three sharp raps. Her satisfaction evaporated when she noticed a bell on the left. Why couldn’t she get anything right?

      Seconds before she was transformed into a snow-woman, a man with a tattoo and a day’s growth of beard yanked open the door. Oh God, Freddi thought, what had she got herself into? He was so tall. And his clothes! There was no hemming at the neck of his T-shirt, which meant she could see his chest. His sweatpants hung loose and low at the waist, revealing a slice of taut, lightly furred stomach. What a scruff. And he was wearing a bandanna! Her first, and with any luck, only, assignment was going to be much more difficult than she’d ever imagined.

      She cleared her suddenly husky throat. “Good evening, Mr. Carlisle. I’m Freddi Elliott and—”

      “Sorry, I’m not entertaining till later.” His voice was gruff, his consonants slurred.


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