Picture This (Bryant Brothers Book 4) Read online

  Amelia handed him her insurance card and driver’s license, and he slid the pieces of identification into the little contraption built into the wall of the building. The pharmacist’s voice crackled over the speaker, asking Amelia to verify a handful of facts, and then they were told to wait a few minutes.

  “Tell me more,” Amelia said into the silence that had fallen.

  “About?”

  “You. Just keep talking. It keeps my mind off the pain.”

  “Oh. Right.” What was he supposed to say? Elliot wasn’t accustomed to talking about himself. As the youngest of four boys, he’d never had much chance to be the center of attention.

  “Is that your dream job?” she asked, since he apparently took too long to start talking.

  “What?”

  “Motorcycle racing.”

  He shook his head. The pharmacist returned, gave him the total cost, and Amelia fished her credit card out of her wallet. As they pulled away from the window, he said, “I need directions to your house.”

  She told him to hang a left at the light, then said, “So you didn’t want to be like your older brothers, huh?”

  “Only two of the four of us really rode. Philip—he’s the second oldest—did it recreationally, but he was never serious about it. There are nine years between me and Tommy—he’s the oldest—and by the time I came along, my parents had so much going on with the other three that they didn’t really push me to follow in the motocross racing footsteps.”

  “Why are you telling me about everyone except yourself?”

  She directed him into a gated condominium complex, and he flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. “You live on a golf course? Does that mean you play?”

  “Yes, although you’re changing the subject. It’s that one.”

  It was an end unit located right on the course. He wondered what hole was in her backyard.

  Her residence had an elegant stone façade and an attached garage. It was also two stories and looked like it had a basement too, and he’d bet his bottom dollar that her bedroom was upstairs. That was going to be a problem with her damaged knee, at least for a few days until it healed enough that she could straighten it.

  Hell, helping her up the two steps from the garage to the kitchen entrance was a challenge.

  “I need to get out of this damn skirt,” she complained when he gave up trying to help her walk and scooped her into his arms instead.

  Okay, his mind did not need to jump to exactly where it did when she said that sentence. He cleared his throat. “Um, how do you want to handle that?”

  “Well, since you’re already carrying me, if you want to take me up to my bedroom, I can show you where everything is, and as long as you put everything in reach, I should be able to change on my own.”

  He carried her through an enormous kitchen that looked so brand new he wondered if she ate anything other than takeout. Then she directed him through a dining room with no furniture, into a foyer where the staircase was located.

  Upstairs, there was a bathroom to his left and four other doors running the length of the hall, with the one to his right slightly ajar. “That one,” she said, pointing at the only open door other than the bathroom.

  Her bedroom was surprisingly frilly. He’d pictured her as a straightforward gal who wouldn’t be into throw pillows and lacy curtains and a plush, white comforter with tiny appliqué flowers. The cozy room surprised him.

  He liked it.

  After settling her on the bed, he asked, “Okay, what do you need?”

  She pointed at a blond wood dresser. “My workout clothes are over there. Second drawer on the left are pants. The one above it is T-shirts.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better to wear shorts? Easier to ice your leg.”

  “Bottom drawer.” She sounded resigned.

  He pulled open the top drawer and grabbed the shirt off the top of the pile. It was a neon pink V-neck, and he was certain it would look great with her complexion, so he kept it and opened the bottom drawer, which appeared to be full of nothing but tiny running shorts. Exactly what he’d love to see her in and exactly what he did not want her to wear around him. Sighing, he grabbed the top pair and straightened.

  Walking over to the bed, he handed her the clothes and said, “Do you need help?”

  Pink bloomed on her cheeks as she shook her head.

  “Okay, I’ll wait in the hall. Give me a shout when you’re ready for me to come back in.”

  A few minutes later, she called out his name. He opened the door and stepped into the bedroom. She’d managed to change her shirt but not the skirt.

  “The freaking zipper is stuck,” she muttered through clenched teeth.

  Moving closer to the bed, he motioned for her to roll onto her side, then he reached for the zipper on the back of her skirt. It took a couple of tugs before he managed to free the tines and reveal a V of what appeared to be sheer, red panties.

  Which would no doubt feature in his dreams tonight.

  “Just turn around,” she said. “And don’t peek.”

  He didn’t need to peek. His imagination was running amok, picturing her twisting and turning, slithering out of that tight skirt, slipping those next-to-nothing shorts over her bare feet and up her long, smooth legs, and—

  “Okay, I’m good now. Thank you.”

  He blew out a breath and turned around. “Do you want to stay up here or go back downstairs?”

  She glanced around her bedroom and gnawed on her bottom lip. “At some point I’ll need to eat dinner, so I think I’d rather go downstairs.”

  “No eating in the bedroom, huh?”

  Why the hell did practically everything they said to each other sound dirty to him? And was that blush on her cheeks because she was thinking the same damn thing?

  That maybe she’d like to be eaten in the bedroom?

  She shook her head , and he lifted her back into his arms and carried her downstairs. Not that she was heavy by any means, but he was certainly getting his workout in today.

  “In here?” he asked, stepping into an elegant yet cozy living room with skylights and a fieldstone fireplace.

  She shook her head and pointed at an attached three-season room with a breathtaking view of a golf course rough that was comprised of weeping willows and tall grasses next to a pristine green.

  Gently situating her in a plush reclining chair, he straightened, staring out at a landscape photographer’s dream, and whispered, “Wow.”

  “Yeah, I love it out here.”

  “The inside’s not too bad, either. Especially that kitchen.”

  Her eyes were closed, although he could tell by the paleness of her complexion and the lines on her face that the pain meds hadn’t fully kicked in yet. She cracked one eye. “The kitchen is what impresses you?”

  He shrugged. “I like to cook.”

  Her other eye popped open. “You do?”

  “Why do you sound so surprised?”

  She shook her head. “I have no idea.” After a brief pause, she added, “I don’t.”

  “Like to cook?”

  “It’s a time thing. And maybe habit. It’s just so much easier to grab takeout.”

  That explained the state of the kitchen. She really did eat takeout every night. What the hell was she going to do for the next week or so, until she was mobile again? Leave the front door unlocked so the delivery guy could just walk right in three times a day?

  “Do you have someone you can call to come stay with you?”

  The laugh she barked out was anything but amused.

  “Your family?” Elliot’s family would be by his side in an instant whether he asked for their help or not.

  “Mom’s gone, and no way would I let my father or brother see me in this condition.”

  “What? Injured?”

  “Weak.”

  “You’re injured. That doesn’t make you weak.”

  “Tell that to my father. No, wait. Don’t do that.” She dropped her hea
d against the back of the chair. “Oh hell. I can’t go into the office like this.”

  “No, you can’t.”

  She tossed him a glare. “I didn’t even mean physically. I meant, I can’t let anyone see me in this state.”

  “I’m seeing you in this state.”

  “That’s different.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, first, you were there when it happened. And then you insisted on practically carrying me out of the building. And then you took me to urgent care. And now you’ve brought me home. It’s like you’re a stray cat that just won’t leave.”

  He thrust his thumb over his shoulder. “I can do that right now, actually.”

  “How? You drove my car here.”

  “Uber. Or walk. I don’t live too far from here.”

  “Really?” He heard it in her tone, the disbelief that he could afford an address in this zip code.

  She was right, of course. But his parents could, and he was currently residing in his childhood bedroom while he tried to figure out what the hell to do with his life.

  He scratched his head. Snippy or not, he couldn’t abandon the poor woman. Hell, she couldn’t even get to the bathroom by herself right now.

  She pressed her palm to her forehead and groaned. “I’m sorry. That was rude. I get kind of bitchy when I’m backed into a corner.”

  She considered this backed into a corner? “Why do you think you can’t let anyone at the office know that you’re injured?”

  “I don’t mean this to sound as rude as it’s going to, but based on your résumé, it doesn’t look like you have a lot of experience in corporate America. Which means you wouldn’t understand how cutthroat it is.”

  “You’re the boss. And you share your last name with the company’s logo. Who the hell could possibly steal your job?”

  “My brother.”

  He waited for her to expound. He couldn’t imagine any of his siblings stealing something so important from one of the others. Okay, yes, for a minute there, he’d thought Kyle and Maddy had been cheating on him, but that had been born of his own frustration, not because he actually believed his brother would do such a thing.

  “Does your brother currently work at the company?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Does he want to work there?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Then why do you think he wants to steal your job?”

  She leveled him with an unwavering gaze. Her dark eyes were so expressive and so beautiful, framed by thick lashes and smoky makeup. He could see himself doing a boudoir session with her. He’d keep her hair the way it was, still in a bun but sloppy from the wind; and he’d have her wear a pair of glasses, a silky, white, button-down blouse, and that tight skirt she’d just changed out of. With thigh-highs. And stilettos.

  Shit. He turned away, trying to catch his breath and willing his erection to deflate. He’d never once in his life aspired to do a boudoir shoot before. He tended toward landscape and action shots. And he sure as hell shouldn’t be thinking about Amelia Gerard in such a way.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  He cleared his throat. “Nothing.”

  She let out a sigh. “My family dynamics are…complicated.”

  “Aren’t they all?” Her observation hit a little too close to home, which was good, because it helped take his mind off the idea of the two of them in a dimly lit room and her dressed like a sexy librarian, giving him come-hither looks.

  “I don’t know. You might be right. It’s just, mine are…”

  “I have three older brothers,” he blurted. “All three are hugely successful. And now all three are happily married. They literally have perfect lives. And then there’s me. So, yeah, I get family dynamics issues.”

  She winced. “That’s a lot of pressure to put on oneself.”

  He cupped the back of his neck and focused on the scenery outside the glass doors. He’d rather be sitting out there on her deck, a beer in hand or, better yet, on that golf cart parked in her garage, heading toward the next tee.

  “Do you play?” she asked.

  He shifted his focus back to her. “Have you noticed that we don’t ever seem to finish a conversation? One of us asks a question, the other doesn’t want to answer, so we change the subject. But then we bounce to something else before that one is even done.”

  She chuckled, and this time it sounded sincere. “Yes. It’s just that I don’t talk about my family life. To anyone. It’s compli—it’s hard to explain.”

  “Try me.”

  She breathed in and out several times. It looked as though she were girding her loins.

  “My father started this company thirty years ago. By himself. In fact, my mother was in the hospital giving birth to me while he was signing the papers to lease the property where the original facility was located. That’s how important this company is to him.

  “My father has always assumed Duane—that’s my brother—would follow in his footsteps and take over the company someday. Duane, however, in the greatest act of defiance ever, refused, and after he finished his MBA, he took off to go find himself in Europe.

  “That was five years ago. Since my father cannot fathom that someone without the Gerard last name might be able to run things, he grudgingly handed the reins over to me. And, based on the interview, you obviously did your research, so you know how much I’ve grown this company since taking over as COO.”

  She paused, and Elliot nodded, silently encouraging her to go on.

  “Duane got back to the States a couple of weeks ago. And ever since, my father has been pressuring me to step down so that Duane can be COO.”

  Based on what he’d Googled, Amelia was obviously a rock star when it came to growing small glass manufacturing companies. Seemed pretty shitty of Dad to try to oust her just because she wasn’t the kid he’d meant to be in charge.

  “So now do you see why I can’t let anyone see me like this?”

  Not really. He had a feeling the employees in her office would be happy to help her, if she simply asked. While Sarah had been afraid of her, everyone else had seemed content, not disgruntled in the least.

  Still, if he expressed his doubt, it would make Amelia feel worse, and that was not his objective. He wanted her to be as comfortable and confident as possible.

  And, holy shit, there was only one way he could ensure those things. He wasn’t really thinking this, was he?

  “I have an idea.” Damn it, he was.

  She arched her brows, and he caught and held her gaze, so she’d know how serious he was.

  “Hire me as your admin. My first task will be to take care of you until you’re able to get around on your own. Which means I’ll manage everything here and at the office.”

  She stared at him, suspicion blooming in her expressive eyes. “What do you mean, you’ll manage everything here?”

  “It means I’m moving in with you.”

  Chapter Four

  Amelia hadn’t shared living space with another person in years. In college, she used her father’s money and influence to secure a private dorm room, and then she moved into her own apartment as soon as her freshman year was over. Hell, even as a teen living at home, she had claimed the basement as her personal space, and no one but the maid ever went down there.

  That aside, she most certainly could not fathom living with this particular man, no matter how short the timeframe might be. Seriously, how long did it actually take for a bruised bone to heal?

  But yeah, not this guy. Not Elliot Bryant, who, based on his résumé, had zero staying power and who she had already decided not to hire.

  Now he wanted her to hire him and let him move in with her? Oh yeah, and basically run her company on her behalf.

  No, no, and triple no.

  And all of those noes did not take into account one very important and dangerous fact.

  Amelia was attracted to him.

  Yes, there it was. She could adm
it it to herself, which was the first step, right?

  She couldn’t hire a man she was attracted to. And she definitely could not live with him. Sure, her condo was plenty large enough for two people—hell, for an entire family. Sure, there were four bedrooms and four-and-a-half baths, plus three levels of living space. Yes, it was conceivable that they could live together without even being in the same vicinity except when she required his assistance due to her lame leg.

  And all of that was beyond pointless, because she was attracted to him. Not only that, but she’d liked it when he took care of her today. Amelia did not allow anyone to take care of her. She handled everything herself, had since the day she’d found her mother lying on the bathroom floor, dead from a brain aneurism. Her brother and father had both shut down when it happened, so she’d had no choice.

  And now, well, it was the only thing she knew. She was comfortable being fully and entirely in charge of every single little aspect of her life.

  No way could she allow this guy, this handsome and helpful, although clearly not ambitious, guy manage any aspect of her world.

  “You’re overthinking my suggestion,” he commented.

  “Of course I am,” she snapped back. It wasn’t irrational at all to be frustrated by the fact that she’d injured herself enough to require help from someone else to do the most mundane tasks.

  Like go to the bathroom. Oh hell, was she supposed to let him know when she needed to pee? Or…

  And how about eating? Okay, yes, she admittedly rarely cooked and most of her meals were of the ready-made or restaurant-made variety, but she couldn’t even handle that if she couldn’t stand.

  “I’m hungry,” she said because it was true, and now she needed to figure out how to fix that problem.

  Elliot nodded once, succinctly, like a soldier being given a command, and then he said, “On it,” and headed toward the kitchen.

  After a few minutes of doors opening and closing and general rattling and banging noises, he was back. “I found a lot of wine—decent quality, too—and questionable looking leftovers and pretty much nothing else. I had a feeling you didn’t use that kitchen much, but this is a little extreme.”