Taming Tall, Dark Brandon. Joan Elliott Pickart

Pretty name. Pretty lady.

      She had felt just so... so right in his arms, as though she belonged there, close to him, protected and cared for by him.

      “Hell, Hamilton,” he muttered. “Where is your mind going? You’re sounding like the fruitcake you thought Andrea was.”

      But there was no denying the feelings of protectiveness and possessiveness he’d registered as he scooped Andrea into his arms and carried her into his office. She was so delicate, had become so pale, which had only accentuated the dark smudges beneath her eyes.

      Brandon halted his trek and stared at the door.

      Come on, Rizzoli, he mentally ordered. What in the hell was going on in there? He didn’t want a major problem to have caused Andrea to faint.

      No, she was fine, just fine. She had to be.

      Brandon frowned and dragged one hand through his hair.

      He was overreacting. Big-time. He didn’t even know Andrea Cunningham. The cold fist of fear in his gut that she might be seriously ill didn’t make one bit of sense, nor did the desire for her that had exploded throughout him.

      Well, yes, maybe it did. He was a decent man, a nice human being. It wasn’t Andrea, the woman, he was tied up in knots over, it was simply one person hoping that another person was all right. And it was simply a normal, healthy man’s libido reacting to an attractive woman.

      Anyone would feel as he did.

      Wouldn’t they?

      Two

      Before Brandon could give further thought to the troubling, confusion-induced question in his mind, the door to the office opened and Andrea appeared, with Ben right behind her.

      “Are you all right?” Brandon said, staring at Andrea intently. He switched his scrutiny to Ben. “Is she all right? You both look so serious. What’s wrong? Why aren’t you talking to me?”

      Ben laughed. “You’re using up all the air space, Hamilton. I’ve never seen you so rattled, which is very interesting, but how are we supposed to get a word in edgewise here?”

      “Oh,” Brandon said. “Sorry.” He paused. “So? Say something, Rizzoli.”

      “I can’t. There’s such a thing as doctor-patient confidentiality, you know. If Andrea wishes to inform you that she is suffering only from complete exhaustion, combined with a dose of Prescott’s altitude, that’s up to her. My lips are sealed.”

      “Oh, good grief,” Andrea said, laughing. “You two are trouble, you really are.”

      “That’s the first time you’ve smiled,” Brandon said quietly, his gaze riveted on Andrea’s face. “Your laughter reminds me of the sound of wind chimes.”

      “Well, I... Well...” Andrea started then stopped speaking as she looked directly into the depths of Brandon’s dark eyes.

      Those eyes again, she thought. They were pinning her in place. She couldn’t move, or think, could hardly breathe. Brandon Hamilton had the most compelling, mesmerizing eyes she’d ever seen.

      She wasn’t freezing cold anymore. No, she was suffused with warmth, with steadily increasing heat that was thrumming low in her body and spreading rapidly throughout her.

      Dear heaven, what was this man doing to her?

      Ben cleared his throat.

      “I hate to interrupt,” he said, merriment dancing in his eyes. “But Andrea needs to get into some dry clothes and to eat something. My prescription is that you, Brandon, as the owner of Hamilton House, extend some extra tender loving care toward this weary guest. I definitely have the feeling that you can handle that.”

      “What?” Brandon said. “Oh, right. Sure thing. Yes. You bet.”

      “You’re so articulate,” Ben said, chuckling. “Well, I’ve got to get back to my office. I have patients waiting to—hey now, here are my favorite girlfriends.”

      Andrea’s eyes widened as she saw two women, who appeared to be in their seventies, bustling toward them.

      The women were identical in size and features—mirror images of each other. But there the similarity stopped.

      One was wearing a sedate gray, long-sleeved dress with a high, old-fashioned collar. The other was adorned in a flashy red satin number that reminded Andrea of pictures she’d seen of turn-of-the-century saloon girls.

      The women smiled as they arrived where Andrea, Brandon and Ben were standing.

      “Andrea,” Brandon said, “may I present my greataunts Prudence—” he swept one hand toward the woman in gray “—and Charity. The Hamilton twins.”

      “Hello,” Andrea said, smiling.

      “Good day, dear,” Prudence said. “We heard you had the vapors, and thought perhaps we might be of assistance.”

      “Why would she want our help, Pru,” Charity said, “when she has two hunks of stuff like Brandon and Ben fussing over her? All that’s missing here is Taylor, our other handsome bachelor-on-the-loose.”

      “To know ‘em is to love ’em, Andrea,” Ben said. He kissed each of the elderly ladies on the cheek. “I’m gone. I’ll check in with you later, Brandon,.”

      “Goodbye, Benjamin,” Prudence said.

      “See ya, hotshot,” Charity said.

      Ben laughed as he strode away.

      “Andrea needs to get settled into her room,” Brandon said.

      “It was a pleasure to meet you both,” Andrea said to the women.

      “Oh, you’ll be seeing us again,” Prudence said. “We live here in Hamilton House. How long will you be with us, dear?”

      “Two weeks,” Brandon said. “Come on, Andrea. We’re not following Ben’s orders by standing here. You need dry clothes and some food.”

      “Two weeks?” Charity said. “Don’t you have a family that will miss you over the holidays?”

      “Charity,” Prudence said, “that is none of our business. You’re being terribly nosy.”

      “Well, how am I supposed to find out what I want to know if I don’t ask?” Charity said. “Andrea?”

      “No,” she said quietly. “I don’t have any family, Miss Hamilton.”

      “Well, you do while you’re here,” Prudence said. “You call me Aunt Pru, dear, and Charity will be your Aunt Charity, and Brandon will be... well, just Brandon.”

      “He’ll see to it that he’s more than just Brandon if he has half the sense he claims to have,” Charity said.

      “Charity, hush,” Pru said. “Mind your manners. You’re being naughty.”

      Brandon gripped one of Andrea’s arms and propelled her forward at a rapid pace.

      “‘Bye,” she said over her shoulder to the aunts.

      “Ta-ta, dear,” Aunt Pru said.

      “Put some makeup on,” Aunt Charity said. “You’re as pale as the ghosts who live in this place.”

      “Ghosts?” Andrea said.

      “Ignore that,” Brandon said.

      At the registration desk, he released Andrea’s arm and moved behind the counter.

      “I’m sorry about my aunts,” he said. “They can be a bit much at times.”

      “They’re darling,” she said, smiling. “For being twins, they certainly have different personalities.”

      “No