A Bride for the Boss Page 5

  Her lips twitched. “Okay, no, I don’t. But then, you don’t really want to take time away from the office to paint my house, either.”

  Mac thought about it for a minute. Ordinarily no, he wouldn’t. His company had been his life for so many years now, he couldn’t really imagine taking two weeks away from it. But if he wanted to keep Andi working for him—and he did—then he’d have to invest the time to convince her to stay. So he shrugged off her comment as if it meant nothing. “When I was a kid, my dad had me out on the ranch painting the barn, the stables, the fence around my mother’s garden. I’m damn good with a paintbrush. And at woodworking. The ranch carpenter taught me a lot back then. I’ve got a fair hand at plumbing, too, though that can be iffy.”

  “Why would you want to use your no doubt impressive skills on my house?”

  Here he gave her a grin and a wink. “What kind of Texan would I be if I didn’t ride to the rescue?”

  Her head snapped back. “Rescue? I don’t need to be rescued, Mac. And now’s a good time to remind you that for the last six years, I’m the one who’s done most of the rescuing.”

  He laughed. Her outrage put fire in her eyes and a rush of color in her cheeks. Her breath was coming fast and furious and her breasts hitched even higher beneath that skimpy tank top. He’d have to remember to make her furious more often.

  “Okay,” he said, “I’ll give you that. You’ve been riding herd on the business and keeping things moving for six years. So now it’s time I paid that back.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t need you to pay me back for doing my job.”

  “Maybe it’s not about what you need,” he said, and felt tension crawl through him as he stared into her gray eyes, where the fire was now banked, simmering low. This woman had been a central part of his life for years and he wasn’t ready for that to end yet. Now that he was here, with her, in this nearly empty house with the dark settling around them, he wanted that even less than when he’d first come here.

  “We’ll work together and at the end of two weeks, if you still want to walk away, so be it.” Sounded reasonable, though Mac had no intention of letting her go. “This is my decision, Andi. And you should know better than anyone else, once I make a call, I stick to it.”

  A second or two passed before she blew out a breath. “You’re impossible.”

  “You set this in motion, Andi,” he told her, shaking his head. “I’m just riding your wave.”

  Until, he told himself, he could get her back to the office, where she belonged. In the end, he would have his way and his life and the office would get back to normal. He and Andi would be working together again. Because Mac McCallum never accepted less than exactly what he wanted.

  * * *

  She shouldn’t have been nervous, but she was.

  Andi got up the next morning and her stomach was a twist of knots in anticipation of Mac’s arrival. Why was he making this so hard? Why couldn’t he just accept her resignation and let her go? For six years he’d treated her as if she were nothing more than an efficient, invisible worker bee.

  Why was he noticing her now?

  Andi poured herself a cup of coffee and carried it out to the front porch. She sat down on the top step, cradled her cup between her palms and stared out at the gnarled oaks and the fields that surrounded her small house. But her mind wasn’t on the view. Instead, every thought she had was for Mac. He might think she’d change her mind and go back to work, but she wouldn’t.

  Yes, dealing with Mac when he was determined to do something was a little like being a wave pounding away at a boulder. But over time, she assured herself, water won. It wore the rock away until only the water remained.

  So she would be a wave. Relentless. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at the wide sweep of deep blue sky and told herself that it was a good thing Mac was coming over. When he realized she wouldn’t change her mind, they could both move on.

  And, she didn’t believe for a minute that he’d last the entire two weeks. But maybe while he was here, she could help him discover how to relax. Turn off his big brain and think about something other than McCallum Enterprises. The man had been working nonstop since he was a teenager and needed a break even more than she did. If she could help him find it while getting her house in shape, then she’d do it. It was one last thing she could do for him. She just hoped she’d survive having him so close and so out of reach all at the same time.

  * * *

  He showed up an hour later, dressed in battered jeans, a stained University of Texas T-shirt and the scarred, worn boots she knew he wore for working on the ranch. His dark blond hair ruffled in a hot breeze when he yanked his hat off and grinned at her. “Ready to work?”

  What was it about the man’s smile that could tangle her stomach up into twisted threads of desire? Just that simple curve of his mouth was enough, though when it was matched with his deep voice and lazy way of speaking, he was her kryptonite.

  “Ready?” she asked, lifting her coffee cup. “I’m on a break. Already started.”

  He winked and walked past her. “Then I’d best start catching up.”

  She followed him into the house, her gaze dropping unerringly to his butt, covered with soft, faded denim. Oh, this was such a bad idea.

  “The living room needed another coat,” she said, clearing her throat, “so I started in there.”

  “Yeah, I can see that.” He tipped his head back, studied what she’d done so far and what still needed doing. Tossing his hat to the couch, he turned and asked, “Where’s your roller? I’ll get the ceiling and the walls while you cut in against the trim.”

  “Who put you in charge?”

  He winked. “Honey, when a McCallum’s around, they’re just naturally in charge.”

  “Oh, for—” Irritating, yes, she admitted silently, but he made her laugh, too. He always had. She watched him pick up the roller with the extension pole and swipe it through a tray of paint. As much as it pained her to admit it, she really could use his help on the stupid ceiling. Her neck had hurt all night from straining and looking up for hours the day before.

  He glanced over his shoulder at her and there was a knowing smile in his eyes. “So, you gonna start painting again or are you just going to stare at me?”

  “Paint. I’m going to paint,” she said firmly, not sure if she was convincing him or herself. “Just go. Be in charge.”

  “Always easier when they acquiesce so quickly.”

  Andi snorted and deliberately ignored him as she started painting. It wasn’t easy. She could feel him in the room. Hear him breathing her air. If she looked over her shoulder, would he be looking at her, too? Wow, she was way too old for these junior high school thoughts.

  “It’s a good color,” he said, that deep voice of his reverberating in the room before rumbling up her spine.

  She shrugged the sensation off and concentrated on laying down a wide path of paint. “Yeah, it feels cool and in summer, that’ll help.”

  “You’ve got air conditioning, right?”

  “Not yet,” she admitted and sighed a little. It was already hot and she knew it was going to get ugly by afternoon. Last night had been a long, private misery. She’d kept her bedroom windows open, hoping a breeze would find its way in, but it hadn’t helped.

  “Bet it’s number one on your list,” he said.

  “My list?” She turned to look at him.

  He was grinning and his gaze fixed on her briefly as he said, “Andi, you make so many lists, you have a master list to keep track of them all.”

  Did he really know her that well? He turned back to work and probably didn’t see evidence of the surprise that flickered inside her, then changed to something else the longer she watched him. Heat that had nothing to do with the weather pumped through her as she watched the play of musc
les across his back and shoulders. Mac moved the roller smoothly, applying even swaths of paint with much more ease than she had the day before.

  But it wasn’t paint that interested her at the moment. It was the man standing so close, so tall, so...there. Mesmerizing really, she thought, the ripple and flow of those muscles was just—

  “Andi? Hey, you all right?”

  She shook her head, forcing herself out of the hormonal stupor she’d slipped into. “What? Yes. Fine. What?”

  He grinned and dipped the roller into the tray for more paint. “Daydreaming won’t get the work done.”

  “Right.” Idiot. Six years she’d worked with him and hadn’t once betrayed anything she felt for him. Darned if she’d start now. She went to work, determined to concentrate on the task at hand.

  “I asked if it was Bennet Heating and Cooling you called about the AC.”

  “Yes,” she said, not bothering to turn around to look at him. “But they’re backed up. It seems everyone in the county is getting their air worked on or installing new units. Won’t get out here for another week or two.”

  He didn’t answer, so she figured the conversation was over. Easier to keep her mind on painting when she could pretend he wasn’t in the room with her, anyway. Then he started talking again—but not to her. Andi turned around to face him.

  “Hey, Joe, it’s Mac McCallum.” He smiled at her and kept talking into his cell phone. “Yeah, I’m over at Andi Beaumont’s place and she tells me you can’t get out to install air conditioning for a week or two. That right?”

  It was that whole “take charge” thing again. He couldn’t seem to help himself. She started to tell him to butt out, but he actually held one finger up in the air in a sign for quiet. So Andi did a slow, silent burn.

  “Yeah, that’s not going to work for me. How about you get your boys out here tomorrow? Damn hot in here and we’re painting and fixing the place up.” He winked at Andi then said more softly, “Now, Joe, I don’t want to wait for this, understand me? I’d consider it a personal favor if you could handle this tomorrow.”

  Personal favor. Everyone in town was eager to do favors for Mac because he never forgot, and if Joe Bennet ever needed help down the line, Mac would be there to return the “favor.”

  Nodding, he said, “That’s good news. I’ll tell Andi you’ll be here tomorrow then. Oh, and how about installing some of those new units where you don’t need to put in all the duct work? Like you installed at my office? That way we get that puppy up and running soon as we can. Hotter than the halls of hell in here, Joe.” Mac laughed, then nodded. “Good. Good, we’ll see you then. Appreciate it.”

  He shut his phone off, stuck it in his pocket and said cheerfully, “There I go, rescuing you again.”

  “I didn’t ask to be rescued,” she reminded him.

  “A good rescuer doesn’t wait to be asked.”

  “You shouldn’t have done that, Mac.” He was rich, powerful and so damn likable with it, most people went along just because he’d charmed them. It was well-known in Royal that Mac McCallum got what he wanted when he wanted it, and as far as she knew, no one had ever told him no. At least, not for long.

  His eyebrows lifted. “Want me to call him back, then? Tell him there’s no hurry? You’re fine with the heat?”

  She bit down on her bottom lip. He had her and he knew it. No, she didn’t need rescuing, but she’d be spiting herself if she turned down help when it was offered. What would she prove by doing that?

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  “You still shouldn’t have.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I didn’t say thank-you.”

  “I’m willing to look past that shameful lack of gratitude.” He winked again. “And if I get a sandwich and some cold tea out of this deal I’ll forgive you completely.”

  “You’ll forgive me?” She choked out a laugh. “You’re impossible.”

  “Can’t be impossible,” he said as he worked the paint roller smoothly. “Here I stand.”

  “The question is, why are you standing here?”

  He lowered the roller, turned to look at her and said, “Because we’re not done, Andi. I’m not willing to let you go, and I think over the next couple weeks we’re both going to learn a thing or two.”

  Her stomach shivered and her mouth went dry. “If you really want to take time off—which is hard to believe—why not Paris? London? Jamaica?”

  His eyes burned into hers. “You’re not there, are you? Besides,” he added, “why would I want to leave Texas?”

  “You’re making me a little crazy,” she admitted, shaking her head.

  “Nothing wrong with being a little crazy,” he said. “It’s the lot of crazy you have to watch out for.”

  He started painting again and Andi could only stare at him. He’d pretty much been the center of her business life for six years and now he was steamrolling his way through her personal life. Andi had deliberately taken these two weeks so she could get some space between herself and Mac.

  How could she get over him if she was with him? But she was forced to admit that she was glad she’d have two more weeks with him. It was probably foolish, but maybe while he was here, she really could help him find a way to relax. To turn off that sharp, brilliant mind long enough to enjoy his life a little. Except for the rare times when he went out on a date or two with some gorgeous yet dim model, actress or flight attendant, Mac was as relaxation-deprived as she was.

  Then she remembered what Amanda had said only yesterday about making the time to have a secret lover in her life. She shot Mac a sidelong look and let her gaze sweep over him.

  And suddenly, the next two weeks looked a lot more interesting.

  Four

  “Where have you been hiding the last few days?”

  Mac looked across the table at one of his oldest friends. Rafiq “Rafe” bin Saleed no longer looked the part of a Harvard-educated sheikh. Between moving here to Royal and marrying Mac’s sister, Vi, Rafe had been transformed into an honorary Texan.

  Since he’d had to go by the office and take care of a couple of things—how did people go on vacations?—Mac had called Rafe to meet him at the Royal Diner. They were sharing a booth in the back, and Mac caught a couple of the other customers shooting them curious glances. He ignored them and lifted his coffee cup for a sip of the dark, hot brew.

  “Thought for sure Vi would have told you. I’ve been at Andi’s house, helping her put it together.” He shrugged. “It’s really why I called. I’ve spent most of my time here lately talking to no one but women. Andi. Laura. Your wife.”

  “Your sister,” Rafe reminded him. “And why are you helping Andi fix up that old house?”

  In that clipped, well-bred accent, the question sounded more demanding than inquisitory. Mac chuckled. “You may not be a sheikh anymore, but you’ve still got that do-as-I-say thing in your voice.”

  Rafe smiled and sipped at his own coffee. “I believe the correct phrase here would be ‘it takes one to know one.’”

  “Okay. Touché.” Easing back in the booth, Mac glanced out the windows at Main Street. Shoppers hurried up and down the sidewalks, carrying bags and herding toddlers. Cars crawled along the street, mindful of the speed limit. Rivers of colorful flowers spilled from baskets hanging from the streetlights. It was Main Street, USA, out there—just the way Mac liked it.

  “Did Vi tell you about Andi quitting her job?”

  “She did.” Rafe, too, looked out the window briefly before shifting his gaze back to his friend. “And that you’re trying to change her mind. My friend, you should know that a woman is difficult to manage.”

  He snorted. “Manage? Nobody manages Andi.” He admired that about her even as that personality trait was working against him at
the moment. Grinning at Rafe, he said, “And I’d truly love to be there when Vi finds out you think you’re managing her.”

  Rafe shivered. “A wise man never lets that information slip.”

  “True.” While the diner filled with customers who went about their business, Mac looked at his old friend and took a moment to realize how glad he was that they had managed to put their friendship back together. “Off the fascinating subject of women for a minute,” he said abruptly, “have you given any more thought to officially joining the Texas Cattleman’s Club?”

  “I have,” Rafe said softly. “And I actually wanted to ask if you would be the one to support my application.”

  A wide, satisfied smile stretched across Mac’s face as he held one hand out across the table. When Rafe took it in a hard, firm shake, Mac said, “My pleasure. Really.”

  “I appreciate that. It’s good to be here with you like this, Mac.” Rafe took a breath and let it out. “When I let myself think about what I almost lost, almost threw away, by refusing to see the truth—”

  “Almost doesn’t mean a damn, Rafe. What matters is that you did see it. Finally,” he added, and laughed when his friend winced at the reminder. “I’m glad to have you back, too. Plus, you married my sister, you poor dumb fool...”

  “She’s wonderful and you know it.”

  “Yeah,” Mac allowed. “But don’t tell her I said so.” Shaking his head again, he said, “Wish to hell Andi was as easy to read as Violet.”

  “I wouldn’t say your sister is ‘easy’ to understand.”

  Mac brushed that comment aside. “But Andi’s always been easy to be around. She’s a hell of a taskmaster. Kept the business running without a bump for years. Hell, Rafe, I thought I knew her. And all of a sudden, she’s turned everything around on me. I feel like this is a woman I don’t know at all.”

  “Maybe you don’t,” Rafe mused. “A work relationship is entirely different from life on the outside.”

  “Yeah, but people are who they are.”

  “Not always. When you’re not wheeling and dealing, you like being on a horse and speaking as if you’re in an old Western movie.”