Christmas Fantasy. Janelle DenisonЧитать онлайн книгу.
She hadn’t counted on having an audience, and had only planned to leave a brief, impersonal message for Austin to return her call. Louden’s unexpected presence changed all that, forcing her to make up a believable monologue as she spoke.
“It’s, uh, Teddy,” she continued, while her mind latched on to an idea. “I’m calling about the Christmas party this Saturday. Have you decided to go? Since you’re not home, I guess we’ll talk about it tonight. We’re still on for drinks, right? I’ll see you at seven at the Frisco Bay.” She dropped her voice to a husky pitch, lowered her lashes coyly for Louden’s benefit and added, “And later on tonight I’ll wear that adorable Stetson you gave me for my birthday, as long as you promise to wear your chaps.”
She hoped that last intimate reference would serve a dual purpose—to give Louden the impression that she and Austin were, indeed, intimately involved, and to leave no doubt in Austin’s mind who, exactly, the caller was. Austin didn’t seem the type to forget a woman’s name, but she wasn’t taking any chances. The Stetson would identify her, if her name failed to spark his memory.
Whether or not he showed up to meet her was a whole other issue.
Her face burning at her brazenness, she hung up the phone, hoping Louden would mistake the heat scoring her cheeks as a lover’s glow.
Setting the file in her in-box on the corner of her desk, he stared at her for a long moment, making her uncomfortable. Even after hearing her one-sided conversation, he still didn’t believe her. She could see the doubt in his expression, could detect his skepticism in the set of his rigid posture.
Wanting to deflect his suspicion, she pasted on a smile. “He wasn’t home, but go ahead and tell Janet to add two more to the guest list.”
“Are you sure about that?” he asked, too quietly for her peace of mind.
She suspected his question went much deeper than her certainty about the party. “I’m sure. Go ahead and put Austin’s name down as my date. He’ll be there. I can be very…determined when it comes to something I want.” She shot one of his double-edged comments right back at him.
“Sometimes, determination isn’t enough,” he retorted meaningfully.
“He’ll be there.” She wished she felt as confident as she sounded. Truth was, she feared Austin would hear the message on his answering machine and write her off as a nutcase.
“Very well, then. I look forward to meeting the elusive Austin McBride.”
She folded her hands on top of her desk and met his gaze levelly. “He’s looking forward to meeting you, too.”
“W HERE HAVE YOU BEEN ? You were supposed to be home an hour ago.”
With a large, flat box tucked under one arm and his other wrapped securely around a green plastic container holding a small, wilting Douglas fir tree, Austin maneuvered his way through the front door of the old Victorian home he and his older brother, Jordan, had inherited when their parents died fourteen years ago. For the past eight years he’d occupied the house by himself, ever since Jordan had moved to Los Angeles to pursue his architectural career. Eight years of coming and going as he pleased, without worrying about accounting for his whereabouts.
Some habits, especially Jordan’s protective instincts toward his little brother, died hard. Jordan had always been the dependable, levelheaded one of them, but then he’d had the responsibility of raising a sixteen-year-old hellion thrust upon him when he, himself, should have been tasting freedom at the tender young age of eighteen. A huge obligation like that tended to make a man out of a child fairly quickly, and Jordan had taken the role of guardianship very seriously. Too seriously, Austin thought, refraining from the urge to remind his brother that he was a big boy and had proven that he could take care of himself.
Pushing the door closed with his shoulder Austin shoved the potted fir into his brother’s hands, giving him no choice but to take the plant.
“Well?” Jordan persisted, following Austin into the adjoining living room where he put the Douglas fir on the corner of the brick hearth. “Where have you been?”
“You haven’t even been home a week and already you’re starting to sound like a wife, big brother.” Setting the package on the settee that had once belonged to his great-grandmother, Austin cast an amused glance Jordan’s way. “A wife is the last thing I need in my hectic life.”
Jordan shoved his fingers through his thick, dark brown hair and grimaced. “Sorry,” he said, releasing a deep, frustrated sigh. “It’s been a long, boring day. And you did say you’d be home at four, and it’s after five.”
Austin’s gaze touched on the fifty-year-old grandfather clock in the corner of the room and noted the time. “Hmm, so it is.”
Despite his brother’s annoying habit of keeping tabs on him, Austin experienced a bit of sympathy for Jordan. After giving an L.A. architectural firm eight years of loyalty, and being promised a partnership in the firm, he’d been bypassed when they’d promoted a relative instead. Jordan had been used and lied to, and if there was anything he abhorred, it was dishonesty. Two weeks ago he’d quit the firm, packed up his belongings and moved back to San Francisco to reevaluate his life.
In Austin’s estimation, Jordan had too much idle time on his hands. And until his brother decided which direction he wanted to take with his career, Austin pretty much resigned himself, and his life, to his brother’s scrutiny.
Jordan was still waiting for an answer. Austin liked making him suffer—goading his brother had always been a favorite pastime, one he’d missed over the past eight years. Shrugging out of his sports jacket, he draped it over the back of the settee. Then he went to work loosening his restricting tie.
“I’m late because I had an afternoon appointment with a client that ran longer than I’d expected,” he told Jordan as he pulled the tie from around his neck and added it to the jacket. “But I got myself a signed contract for a landscaping project I bid on a few weeks ago for a new restaurant. The job came in at a little less than fifty grand.”
“That’s great.” Jordan’s hazel eyes brightened with pride and genuine excitement for Austin’s success. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” Austin was still feeling the elation of having outbid the other landscaping companies. This one project, coupled with half a dozen other smaller projects he’d been awarded recently, would keep a steady paycheck coming in. “And after that, I picked up the Christmas present I was supposed to get last night.”
Jordan flicked his finger at the big, fat red bow topping the package wrapped in bright holly paper. “Ah, and who might this be for?”
Austin watched Jordan pick up the box, and knew from experience what was coming next. “It’s for you, and don’t shake it—”
The order came too late. For all Jordan’s seriousness, he had an insatiable curiosity, which included trying to guess what his gifts were. The contents of the box rattled as he gave it a brisk jostling, and his eyes lit up like a little kid’s.
Austin’s stomach pitched as he imagined the delicate, expensive pieces belonging to the specially ordered model of the Bay Bridge breaking into minuscule segments. “Dammit, Jordan,” he growled as he grabbed the box and rescued the collector’s edition from Jordan’s abuse. “I’m serious. It’s very fragile.”
A grin quirked Jordan’s mouth. “What did you do, get me a set of wineglasses?”
“Very funny.” Austin put the gift next to the potted fir.
Jordan came up beside him and cast a hand at the withering tree. “And please don’t tell me you’re going to try and pass this off as a Christmas tree. It’s pathetic, Austin.”
“That’s why I chose it.” Austin smiled and shrugged. “It needed a home, and we couldn’t celebrate our first Christmas together in years