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The Waitress's Secret
Kathy Douglass
Today's Special: The Undercover Heiress! On the run after a bad breakup, wealthy city girl Arden Wexford ends up stranded in small town Sweet Briar. When hunky chef Brandon Danielson comes to her rescue, offering shelter and a waitressing job until her car is fixed, she reluctantly accepts. But, wanting Brandon to like her for her, not for her money, she doesn't mention her rich roots. The closer they get, the harder it is to untell the lie.Brandon came here to start over. Things weren't as they seemed with his ex-fiancée, and he got burned! But is it out of the frying pan, into the fire for Brandon as things heat up with this very special waitress?
Today’s Special: The Undercover Heiress!
On the run after a bad breakup, wealthy city girl Arden Wexford ends up stranded in small town Sweet Briar. When hunky chef Brandon Danielson comes to her rescue, offering shelter and a waitressing job until her car is fixed, she reluctantly accepts. But, wanting Brandon to like her for her, not for her money, she doesn’t mention her rich roots. The closer they get, the harder it is to untell the lie.
Brandon came here to start over. Things weren’t as they seemed with his ex-fiancée, and he got burned! But is it out of the frying pan, into the fire for Brandon as things heat up with this very special waitress?
Kiss me.
The stray thought caught her off guard and she jerked away from temptation, stumbling like a klutz over a box. Brandon grabbed her before she fell. The warmth from his hands sent heat coursing through her body. This was so not good.
“Thanks,” Arden said breathlessly.
Brandon raised an eyebrow and stared at her as if he knew what she’d been thinking. “Don’t you want to know what he said?”
“Who?”
“John.” She must have looked as blank as she felt because he spoke the next words very slowly. “The guy who’s fixing your car.”
“Oh, yeah. Right. What did he say?”
“He towed it in, but he needs the keys. Once we get this stuff inside, I’ll drop you off at the garage.”
The thought of sitting shoulder to shoulder again in the cab of his truck, his masculine scent swirling around her, tempted her to forget she wasn’t interested in getting involved with another man. “You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s not a problem,” Brandon replied as he hoisted a box onto his right shoulder.
Then he glanced at the woman before him and wondered, not for the first time, what the heck he was doing.
* * *
SWEET BRIAR SWEETHEARTS: There’s something about Sweet Briar...
The Waitress’s Secret
Kathy Douglass
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
KATHY DOUGLASS came by her love of reading naturally—both of her parents were readers. She would finish one book and pick up another. Then she attended law school and traded romances for legal opinions.
After the birth of her two children, her love of reading turned into a love of writing. Kathy now spends her days writing the small-town contemporary novels she enjoys reading.
This book is dedicated with love and appreciation to the following people:
To my best friend, Joya, who has been a true friend since the day we met. Thanks for reminding me that I wanted to be a writer.
To Ehryck, Teri and Sandra, who celebrated with me when I signed my first contract.
To Lauren Canan, the best critique partner on the planet.
To my editor, Charles Griemsman, who helps make my books better than even I could imagine.
To my mother-in-law and father-in-law, who raised my husband to be the most wonderful man in the world.
To my siblings, for a lifetime of love and support. A special mention to Marc, who actually did refer to his daughters’ playpen as Attica.
To my parents, who loved and supported me in everything I did.
And last, but certainly not least, to my husband and sons, who fill my life with love and happiness. I love all of you more than you can ever imagine.
Contents
Cover (#u511bc6b1-b9c2-5ae8-bc7a-2bf3f4be4913)
Back Cover Text (#ud7db3b69-bfb8-530d-b1c8-c82b35001496)
Introduction (#u5d50106a-7570-58db-b831-39283ac9477e)
Title Page (#u797fd63b-c714-584e-9fa1-1d0e68d7254c)
About the Author (#udaad3054-8fdb-5de3-a5ee-b01b7fb70f9d)
Dedication (#u845be937-5009-5be1-be5d-14bb39fadc97)
Chapter One (#uf990326b-00fc-56e6-9888-4a283d07e1f4)
Chapter Two (#u10220a95-2165-5d4d-a163-627c99719833)
Chapter Three (#ua3e864d3-4885-5218-bdf7-854a49dc3a92)
Chapter Four (#u2da74155-873b-5b7a-9b5b-0ab1807cfd16)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u9b3916be-c81f-5849-bf79-b38554e5c751)
Arden Wexford pounded on the steering wheel, then turned the ignition key one more time. Still dead. Funny how that worked. Apparently the nineteenth time wasn’t the charm. Sighing heavily, she got out of her car and slammed the door, releasing a bit of frustration. She looked under the hood even though she didn’t have the foggiest idea what she was searching for.
Her great big adventure, as she had been sarcastically referring to it since her beloved Beetle had broken down, wasn’t turning out the way she’d planned. If things had gone the way she’d intended, she would be closer to her parents’ house in Florida by now. Instead, she was stranded in Nowhere, North Carolina. She wished she’d driven the Mercedes sedan her parents had given her when she’d graduated from college two years ago. But her candy-red Bug felt like a big hug from her brothers. Driving it always made her happy. After the disaster with Michael-the-jerk, she needed cheering.
Now, though, she wished she had driven the old-lady car. She’d be that much farther away from Baltimore and men willing to stoop to the lowest depths to turn her money into theirs. She was done with greedy men. She was going to hole up in her parents’ winter home and enjoy life away from the vipers.
If she ever got out of North Carolina.
She kicked the tire of the offending vehicle even though it wasn’t to blame for her predicament. It was properly inflated and ready to roll. All it needed was the car to start.
Arden considered turning the key for the twentieth time, but decided against it. Twenty wasn’t going to be any luckier than nineteen. And if she didn’t want to spend the night on the side of the road hoping that 2,019 was the charm, she needed to start walking.
She locked the car, then dug through her purse and grabbed her cell phone. She glanced at the screen one more time, hoping that service bars would magically appear. None did.
She’d passed a road sign a couple of miles back indicating she was six miles from some town she’d never heard of. Small Briar or something like that. It couldn’t be more than four or so miles away. She ran that far most mornings at her health club. Of course the walk would be easier if she wasn’t wearing her cute-to-look-at-but-not-good-for-much-else high-heeled sandals. They were perfect for the airplane flight she’d originally planned. But then her brother commandeered the family jet at the last minute to fly to Monte Carlo for a meeting at one of the Wexford luxury hotels. He’d invited her to come along to relax while he worked, but she’d declined. Her brothers might not mind having their pictures appear in gossip rags catering to people enamored of the rich and famous, but she did. So, she’d decided to drive.
Traffic on the highway was light, with cars passing only occasionally. None of the drivers so much as slowed down. Weren’t people in the South supposed to be friendly? Not that she blamed them. She’d never pick up a stranger. And, truthfully, she wasn’t sure she’d take a ride even if one was offered.
The day had started out warm and breezy with a clear blue sky. Her T-shirt and color-coordinated skirt had been perfect then, but in the past twenty or so minutes, the temperature had plunged. The cool wind made her long for a sweater. Dark clouds were gathering and the sky was growing threatening. The smell of rain filled the air. She remembered hearing something about a storm in the weather forecast, but since she hadn’t expected to still be in the area, she hadn’t paid close attention.
Arden picked up her pace, hoping to get to shelter before the clouds burst and she got drenched. After walking about a mile, she checked her cell phone for service again. Still none. Amazing. Her car, which couldn’t make it from Baltimore to Tampa, had somehow managed time travel, propelling her into the Dark Ages.
Well, there was no use crying over it. She’d just have to keep walking. She eased a foot from her sandal and shook out yet another pebble. Rubbing her right foot on top of her left, she wondered if shoes that cost nearly a thousand dollars shouldn’t be as comfortable as they were beautiful.
Arden slid her foot back into her sandal and, after promising herself a good foot massage as soon as she reached civilization, continued her trek to town. She’d taken a handful of steps when a late-model silver pickup pulled to a stop several yards ahead of her. The driver’s door opened and a giant of a man got out. He closed the door and walked around to the back of the truck.
He had thick dreadlocks that were pulled back into a ponytail that hung to the middle of his back. His shoulders were so wide that she imagined he took up more than his share of an airline seat. His broad shoulders only emphasized his flat stomach and trim hips.
He was truly handsome, with dark chocolate skin, a jaw that could only be described as rugged and black eyes that quickly scanned her from head to toe before returning to meet her gaze. A shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature danced down her spine.
Although he had not done anything remotely intimidating, every warning her parents and older brothers had drilled into her since birth about stranger danger raced through her mind. Weren’t rich kids always at risk of being kidnapped and held for ransom? Arden looked around. There wasn’t another car in sight. She was alone on a deserted highway with a huge man. And no cell service. She stumbled back, cursing her high-heeled shoes.
As if sensing her trepidation, the man backed up until he bumped into his truck, his hands raised, palms out. “I’m not going to hurt you. I want to help you. I passed your car a couple miles back. That is, if you’re driving a red Beetle.”
His voice was deep, and she noted that he spoke in a calm manner as if soothing a child. She nodded.
“You’ve walked a long way. You still have about two miles to go until you reach Sweet Briar.” He looked up at the darkening sky. “There’s a severe thunderstorm warning in effect. Hop in and I’ll drop you off in town.”
Although he seemed harmless, her family’s lessons were too deeply ingrained to cast off simply because a guy had a smooth disc-jockey voice.
Arden shook her head. “Thanks. That’s really nice of you to offer, but I’ll walk. A little rain never hurt anybody. Besides, it’s not raining yet. Maybe it won’t.”
On cue, lightning streaked across the sky, followed by a loud clap of thunder. And then it started to rain.
“I really don’t mind giving you a lift.”
Arden tilted her head as she stared at him. Something was off. Although the words were correct and his posture nonthreatening, he didn’t appear at all pleased to offer her the ride. He was grimacing and seemed to be forcing the words out of his mouth as if he really didn’t want to say them. He reminded her of a reluctant twelve-year-old whose mother kept poking him in the back, prodding him to ask a girl to dance. That reluctance certainly didn’t engender confidence.
“No, thanks. I’ll take my chances with the rain.” It was becoming more of a steady downfall by the second but, still, wet was better than dead or whatever else he might have in mind.
* * *
Brandon stared at the woman, wondering if she’d lost her mind. Her hair was plastered to her head and water streamed down her face. Her T-shirt, a pale gray with some sort of orange-and-pink design, now clung to her breasts and tiny waist. He had a feeling she had not as yet realized that her top was fast becoming transparent, revealing the lacy white bra she wore beneath it. She was getting soaked to the bone and she wanted to walk?
Of course she did. That was the cherry on top of a perfectly terrible day. He’d wasted hours in a bank being shuffled from person to person as he unsuccessfully tried to straighten out a mess with the restaurant’s account. Now he was wasting even more time standing in the pouring rain trying to convince a stubborn woman to accept his help.
He was tired and irritated and ready to put this day behind him, but he couldn’t in good conscience leave her to hoof it to town. It was out of the question. His parents and grandparents had raised him too well to leave her stranded. He could practically hear his father reminding him that a gentleman never left a woman in distress while his mother stood in the background, nodding and murmuring in agreement.
He rubbed a hand across his neck.
The woman lifted her cute little chin in hardheaded resolve.
“Look, I can’t just leave you here. I have a sister, and I hope someone would stop and offer assistance if her car broke down. I also hope she’d have sense enough to take the ride.”
“Even with a man she’s never seen before in her life?”
Brandon huffed out a breath. She had him there. “My name is Brandon Danielson. I own a restaurant in Sweet Briar.”
He reached into the back pocket of his jeans, removed his driver’s license from his wallet and held it up for her to see although he doubted she could read it from the distance that separated them. “This is me. You can keep it if it makes you feel better. Hell, you can drive if that’s what it takes for you to feel safe.”
She nodded but still looked unsure. “Okay,” she finally agreed. “Thanks.”
“Thank me after we get out of this storm.”
Slipping and sliding on the unpaved shoulder, the woman reached the passenger door. She stepped on the running board of the truck, then grabbed at the hanging strap to pull herself up the rest of the way. Suddenly her foot slid out from under her. Instinctively, he reached out to help her, grabbing her around her impossibly small waist.
The feel of her soft body sent a jolt of awareness surging through him. He set her away as quickly as he could and frowned at the reaction of his body. He was a Good Samaritan, not some player picking up women on the side of the road.
“I’m going to help you into the truck.” Before she could respond, he lifted her into his arms and settled her into the passenger seat. Even soaking wet, she couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred and fifteen or twenty pounds. Closing her door, he lost no time getting to the other side and slipping behind the wheel. As soon as he started the truck and the air began to circulate, he got a whiff of her scent. Man, she smelled good. Like rain and shampoo—which was expected—but also like sunshine and flowers. Like happiness. Where had that come from? He shook his head slightly in the hope the foolishness would rattle out his ears, then glanced at his passenger.
Even with most of her makeup washed off, she was incredibly beautiful. She had remarkably clear caramel-colored skin and light brown eyes. With high cheekbones and a perfectly shaped nose and lips, she could have been a model. Of course, he would have appreciated her beauty more if he didn’t need to start building an ark. And, like any beautiful work of art, she was best viewed from a distance. He would do well to keep that in mind.
