Secretly Yours. Gina Wilkins

away from her face and returned the smile ruefully. “Except for resembling a drowned rat, of course. It’s really pouring out there.”

      He cocked his head, listening to the rain hitting the windows. “So I hear. It doesn’t seem to be letting up.”

      “I hope it stops before I get home. The way my bedroom roof leaks, I’d hate to drown in my sleep,” she said with a wry smile.

      “Would you like some coffee? I just made a fresh pot.”

      “No, thank you.” Having left her wet raincoat in the rest room off the lobby, Annie felt confident that she wasn’t dripping on the carpet when she crossed the room to empty his wastebasket. “I’ll be working in the other rooms. Let me know when you’re ready for me to clean in here.”

      “All right. By the way…”

      She paused in the doorway, studying him. Blond and blue-eyed like his younger brother, Trevor was an attractive man, though perhaps not as breathtakingly spectacular as Trent—at least in Annie’s opinion. She imagined his wife would probably disagree about which McBride brother was the most appealing. “Yes?”

      He seemed to choose his words carefully. “Mother told me about the service-swapping deal she made between you and Trent. That’s a satisfactory arrangement for you? You didn’t let my mother railroad you into it, I hope.”

      She smiled. “It’s a very satisfactory arrangement for me. I actually feel as though I’m getting the better end of the bargain. Your brother’s house is small, and he keeps it very neat. It definitely doesn’t need much cleaning. But he worked very hard at my place yesterday. I couldn’t believe how much he’d gotten done in just one morning.”

      Trent had repaired her precarious front step, replaced a broken board on the small porch and tightened a shutter that had hung loose at one window. He’d even mended the screen door, which had previously hung crookedly from a broken hinge.

      “Trent needs something to do to get him out of the rut he’s got himself into,” Trevor said. “This will be good for him.”

      “I don’t know about that, but it’s certainly helpful to me. It’s really sweet of your brother to do this.”

      Trevor choked on a sip of coffee. “Sweet?” he repeated, recovering his voice. “Trent? Er…have you actually met him, by any chance?”

      “Only briefly, yesterday morning.”

      “And you thought he was, um, sweet?”

      “I said what he’s doing is sweet,” she corrected, hesitant to apply the word to Trent, himself. “Helping me with the repairs, I mean.”

      “I see.” He chuckled.

      “What’s so funny?”

      “Prior to his accident, I heard my brother referred to as wild, cocky and reckless. During the past year or so he’s been called sullen, surly and rude. I’m not sure anyone has ever called him ‘sweet.”’

      Though she was intrigued, Annie didn’t think she should be gossiping about one of her clients, even with his brother. “Still, I appreciate having my front step fixed so I won’t break my neck. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do.”

      She heard him laughing softly behind her when she left his office. It seemed that Trent wasn’t the only odd brother in the McBride family, she thought with a bemused shake of her head.

      TRENT WAS in his workshop Thursday night, rubbing wood stain onto a newly finished shelf, when the cellular telephone he’d brought in with him rang. He glared at the intrusive instrument, wishing he could simply ignore it, but it was probably his mother. If he didn’t answer, she would come charging over to find out what was wrong. He lifted the receiver to his ear. “What?”

      “Hello to you, too,” Trevor said, apparently amused rather than offended by his younger brother’s curtness.

      “What do you want, Trevor? I’m busy.”

      “I’m fine, thanks, and so are the wife and kids. Nice of you to ask.”

      “If you only called to needle me…”

      “No, wait. Don’t hang up. I really do have a reason for calling.”

      “Well?”

      “Jamie wants you to come to dinner tomorrow evening. She’s trying out a new recipe for gumbo.”

      Trevor swallowed a sigh. He didn’t want to hurt his sister-in-law’s feelings, but he really hadn’t been in the mood lately for cozy family dinners. He’d made that clear enough to his relatives, and they generally respected his wishes, but every so often they felt compelled to drag him out again. He understood, sort of, but he wished they could just accept his need for more time and space to come to terms with what had happened to him. “All right. I’ll come.”

      “Try to contain your enthusiasm, will you?”

      “Is there anything else you want?” Trent asked pointedly.

      “No, but it was ‘sweet’ of you to ask. Of course, I’ve been told recently that you’re a very ‘sweet’ man.”

      “Who the hell told you that?” he asked, startled.

      Trevor laughed. “Your housekeeper. Apparently, you’ve earned her undying gratitude by fixing her front step.”

      “It’s a wonder she hasn’t broken a leg on it—or worse,” Trent muttered.

      “Pretty, isn’t she? Intriguing, too. I haven’t figured her out yet.”

      “You shouldn’t be trying. You’re a married man.”

      “Mmm. But you’re not.”

      “Forget it. Not interested.”

      “Then you’re even more of a cretin than I gave you credit for.”

      “Goodbye, Trevor.”

      “One more thing,” his brother said quickly, hearing the finality in Trent’s tone. “Annie mentioned that her roof is leaking. You might want to look into it, but don’t take any unnecessary risks. If you need help, give me a call and I’ll—”

      “I’ll take care of it.”

      “All right. We’ll expect you for dinner tomorrow.”

      “I’ll be there,” Trent grumbled, then hung up before his brother could prolong the conversation.

      Pushing the lid onto the can of stain, he considered what he knew about Annie Stewart. She thought he was sweet. And she liked his furniture. And something about her shy smile made his stomach muscles quiver, damn it.

      This was going to be a long month.

      2

      ANNIE wore a briskly professional smile when Trent opened his door to her on Friday morning. The smile momentarily wavered when she saw him. As she’d left her house that morning, oddly nervous about seeing him again, she had tried to convince herself that he couldn’t really be as gorgeous as she’d remembered. But he was—and then some.

      Not that his attractiveness should make any difference to her, of course. She was here to do a job, not to drool over her client. “Good morning, Mr. McBride.”

      He seemed to study her smile for a moment, then nodded and reached out to relieve her of her supplies. Without speaking, he held the door so she could enter with her lightweight vacuum cleaner.

      She had to pass within inches of him to step inside, which made her even more aware of his height and the intriguing width of his shoulders. Chiding herself for being so easily and so uncharacteristically distracted from the job at hand, she asked, “Is there anything in particular you want me to do here today?”

      He shrugged.