But Not For Me. Annette Broadrick

no doubt somewhere having lunch.”

      Richard Harmon had taken on the onerous task of office manager five years ago. He had excellent skills for keeping the place running smoothly. Since Brad and Rachel were seldom gone at the same time, Brad had never had to rely on Rich’s ability to take over the reins of the company. This might be an excellent opportunity to see how well he handled the responsibility.

      “Please send a memo to Rich and tell him we’ll both be out of town for the next few days and that he’s in charge. If he needs to contact me, I’ll have my cell phone with me. Be sure to give him that number. If anything comes up that he doesn’t feel qualified to handle, tell him I want him to contact me immediately.” Janelle wrote the instructions down, keeping up with him with seeming ease.

      Janelle Andrews had come to work for the company five years ago as well. In her late forties, Janelle was a human dynamo, keeping up with the paperwork for both of them without showing stress or strain. Brad appreciated the fact that Janelle did not gossip, kept her work confidential and had a pleasant disposition. He knew he’d been fortunate to gather together such a solid, dependable staff.

      Janelle quickly scanned the appointment book, reminding him of what appointments were being canceled. He suggested that she reschedule all of them for early next week. “Explain that an emergency called me out of town,” he concluded.

      She smiled and said, “Have a safe trip,” including both of them in the statement.

      Brad turned, and he and Rachel followed the hallway into the large reception area. Melinda, the young receptionist, smiled at them. Brad nodded and walked toward the company’s entrance—double glass doors bearing the inscription Phillips Construction Company.

      Brad mentally ran through what Rachel had told him—while they waited for the elevator, rode down to the basement parking garage and walked to his sleek sports car.

      There were times when Rachel irritated him with her insistence on being so blasted self-sufficient. On the other hand, that’s what made her such a great assistant.

      Rachel broke the silence between them when they reached his car. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” she said, sounding almost reconciled to the trip, which made her continued resistance to his plan easier on him. She glanced at him while he held the door open on the passenger’s side. She slid into the low car with more grace than most women he knew, but then Rachel had always had an air of refinement about her.

      Over the years she’d worked for him, she had managed to polish some of his rough edges without making him feel boorish or embarrassed by his lack of sophistication.

      He felt justified in offering his help now, despite her protests.

      Brad slid behind the steering wheel, closed the car door and started the engine, which began to purr like a well-fed cat. He smiled. Before owning this particular vehicle, Brad had bought only trucks for his own use. They were by far the most practical transportation for business purposes.

      For years after he knew he could afford to drive anything he wished, he continued to drive a pickup truck…until he’d seen this baby sitting in a show window three months ago. Practicality took a back seat to the sleek lines and high performance of the Porsche. He’d never had buyer’s remorse; he doubted very much that he ever would.

      The car was a visible sign that he’d met his goals and become successful. His success meant he had overcome his early life. His past no longer had the power to cause him pain, because he had proven to himself that he wasn’t a loser. His new Porsche reminded him that he was a winner every time he saw it.

      Rachel forced herself to lean back in the aircraft seat. She closed her eyes, already dreading the petrifying moment when the jet actually left Mother Earth and threw itself recklessly into the air, defying the law of gravity.

      She did not like to fly. To be more precise, she absolutely detested flying and generally managed to avoid it, but there was no arguing with Brad.

      Not that Brad had any idea of her strong aversion to flying. She’d been careful never to mention the matter to him. After all, there had never been a reason to call his attention to her weakness. Sometime during the years she had worked for him, Brad must have decided that she was a direct descendant of Wonder Woman—he thought that no matter what he asked of her, she could do it with ease.

      Boy, was he wrong. For whatever reason—and she had no doubt an analyst would have a field day with this one—she had worked diligently to keep Brad’s illusions about her intact.

      Until now. All she wanted to do at the moment was curl up somewhere and sleep for the next year or so. After what had happened last night, though, she no longer felt safe in her apartment.

      Rachel gripped the arms of her seat as the plane barreled down the runway and leaped skyward. She prayed fervently that she wouldn’t embarrass herself by becoming hysterical and sobbing all the way to North Carolina.

      Even with her eyes closed, she knew when Brad unfastened his safety belt and left the seat beside her. The company jet contained a fully equipped office. Wherever Brad went, he kept up with everything that happened in his company.

      She kept her eyes closed in order to better concentrate on the sounds of the plane. Perhaps if she remained alert, she could warn Steve if a wing fell off or something.

      She hoped Brad would be able to deal satisfactorily with Mrs. Crossland. He’d been so excited when Thomas Crossland asked him to build his vacation home in the mountains.

      There was no reason for Carl to worry. Brad had an excellent track record for convincing a person that Brad’s way was the best way. Her being there on the plane with him certainly proved his powers of persuasion. He’d used them successfully on other occasions.

      He’d convinced her years ago that helping him build his dream company would not only bring her wealth but also tremendous satisfaction.

      What normal, red-blooded woman wouldn’t have fallen in love with him?

      Of course she’d never, by look or deed, revealed her feelings to him. Not only would that have sabotaged her career, but it would also have sent Brad Phillips running for the nearest exit.

      She almost smiled at that thought but, if Brad happened to notice that she wasn’t asleep, he’d want to continue to discuss her plan to take some time off. She wasn’t ready to go another round with him on that subject.

      Rachel seldom discussed her private life with Brad. One of the ways she avoided personal topics was to turn his casual questions around to find out about his social life. Over the years he’d been surprisingly forthcoming about who he was seeing and who he had stopped seeing. Rachel wasn’t sure which was worse, imagining Brad with various women or actually hearing about them.

      She’d formed a clear picture of his modus operandi in the romance department. There wasn’t an ounce of romance in the man, which was really a shame because he was the type of male that women fantasized about while gnawing on a knuckle and whimpering.

      Working construction had honed his tall, rangy body into solid muscle and sinew. Along the way he’d acquired what appeared to be a permanent tan as a result of years spent working in the sun. She wasn’t sure how he managed to keep his trim good looks now that he spent a large part of his time indoors, but there was no doubt a hard body lurked beneath his custom-made suits.

      As one of her friends so succinctly put it, if she hadn’t fallen in love with the man after working closely with him for years, someone would have needed to check her pulse to be certain she was alive.

      He had no trouble attracting the attention of women, married or single, but the man appeared uninterested in their admiration. She couldn’t say he was classically handsome…his face showed too much strength for that. How he remained unaware of his ability to charm any woman he wanted into his bed was beyond her. Having known other men who used that particular skill to seduce women who could put them in touch with business contacts, she knew that Brad was an exceptional man. He never used his sensual appeal as a manipulative tool.

      Rachel