The Pint-Sized Secret

He knew she was single. Divorced, according to the rumor mill, though no one seemed to know much about the circumstances. He also knew she’d turned down dates with half a dozen of their colleagues. Her social life—if she had one—was a mystery. He considered such discretion to be admirable, as well as wise. He also considered it a challenge.

And that was what brought him to the fourth floor at Delacourt Oil just after seven in the morning. Although he knew very little about Brianna’s habits, he did know that she was an early riser. A morning person himself, on several occasions he’d spotted her car already in the parking lot when he arrived. Obviously neither of them had the sort of exciting nightlife that others probably thought they did.

As he walked toward her office, Jeb wasn’t the least bit surprised to find Brianna’s lights on and her head bent over a huge geological map spread across her desk. Her computer was booted up, and all sorts of mysterious calculations were on the screen.

Since she was totally absorbed, he took a moment simply to stand there and appreciate the auburn highlights in her no-muss, no-fuss short hair. If her hairstyle was almost boyish, the graceful curve of her neck was contrastingly feminine. She was wearing an outfit with simple lines, in natural fabrics—linen and silk. Her short-sleeved blouse was the same deep teal shade as her eyes. Her only jewelry was a simple gold cross. From the look of it, he guessed it was an antique. A family heirloom, perhaps? At any rate, she wasn’t adorned with expensive diamonds, which might be telltale bounty from any ill-gotten gains.

“Find anything interesting?” he asked eventually, trying to tame hormones that seemed inclined to run amok at the mere sight of her.

Her head shot up, and startled blue-green eyes stared at him guiltily…or so he thought. Was she trying to pinpoint a new site she could pass on to the competition? When she made no attempt to hide the map, he told himself he was being ridiculous. Any investigator worth the title should think more rationally and behave more objectively than he was at this moment. So far, he had suspicions and coincidence and not much else, yet he’d already all but tried and convicted her.

“You,” she said, as if he were a particularly annoying interruption, despite the fact that they probably hadn’t exchanged more than a few dozen words since she’d been hired.

“Now is that any way to greet a man who’s come bearing coffee and pastry?”

“No thanks,” she said, pointedly going back to her study of the map.

Ignoring the blatant dismissal, Jeb crossed the room and perched on the corner of her desk, close enough to be impossible for her to ignore. He opened the bag he’d brought, removed two cups of coffee and two warm cheese Danishes. He wafted one, then another under her nose. Though she didn’t look up, there was no mistaking her subtle sniff of the aroma.

“Tempting, aren’t they?”

She heaved a resigned sigh, then sat back. “You’re not going to go away, are you?” Despite the exasperation in her tone, there was a faint hint of a smile on her lips.

He beamed at her. “Nope.” He held out the coffee. She accepted it with exaggerated reluctance, took a quick sip, then another slow, appreciative swallow.

“You didn’t get this here,” she said. “Not even the executive dining room makes coffee like this.”

“Nope. I made a stop at a bakery.”

She regarded him warily. “Why?”

“No special reason.”

“Of course not,” she said with blatant skepticism. “This is something you make a habit of doing for everyone around here. Sort of an executive welcoming committee, a way to let the troops know that management cares. Today just happens to be my turn.”

“Exactly.”

Her unflinching gaze met his. “Bull, Mr. Delacourt.”

Startled by the direct hit, he laughed. This was going to be more fun than he’d anticipated. “You don’t mince words, do you, Mrs. O’Ryan?”

“Not enough time in the day as it is. Why waste it searching for polite phrases when the direct approach is quicker?”

“A woman after my own heart,” Jeb concluded. “Okay, then. I’ll be direct, too. I have a charity ball to attend on Friday. It’s for a good cause. The food and wine promise to be excellent. How about going with me?”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

Vaguely insulted by the quick, unequivocal—if not unexpected—refusal, Jeb pulled out his trump card. “Max Coleman will be there,” he said innocently, watching closely for a reaction. Other than a slight narrowing of her lips, there was nothing to give away the fact that the name meant anything at all to her. He pressed harder. “Might be interesting to see how he reacts to knowing just how well you’re doing at Delacourt Oil, don’t you think?”

“Max Coleman is slime,” she said at once. “I don’t care what he thinks.”

“Sure you do, sweetheart. It wouldn’t be human not to want a little revenge against a man who fired you.” He let his gaze travel slowly over her, waited until he saw the color rise in her cheeks before adding, “You look very human to me.” He winked. “Pick you up at six-thirty.”

He headed for the door, anticipating all the way that she might contradict him, might refuse even more emphatically, though he knew he’d found her Achilles’ heel.

Instead, she said softly, “Formal?”

He turned back, feigning confusion. “What was that?”

She frowned at him. “I asked if it was formal?”

“Definitely black tie,” he said. “Wear something sexy. You’ll bring him to his knees.”

Amusement seemed to flit across her face at that. “And you, Mr. Delacourt? Will it bring you to your knees?”

“Could be. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” To his sincere regret, in the past couple of minutes he’d discovered it was definitely possible. That alone should have been warning enough to induce him to abandon his investigation before it went wildly awry. Instead, it merely increased his anticipation.

Agreeing to go to a charity ball with Jeb Delacourt was quite possibly the dumbest thing she’d ever done, Brianna told herself as she raced around with her assistant during their lunch hour on Friday trying to find an appropriate gown that wouldn’t destroy her budget for the next six months. She had waited until the last minute as if to prove to herself that the evening didn’t matter.

And of course it didn’t mean anything. How could it? She barely knew Jeb Delacourt. They’d exchanged a few polite words on occasion, but that was it. She knew he had a reputation as a charming rogue, and she’d certainly seen evidence of that when he’d shown up in her office. He’d known just what to say to entice her into breaking her rule against dating coworkers. She would have to stay on her guard constantly.

But this ball wasn’t about spending an evening with Jeb at all. Not really. As he had guessed, it was about seeing Max Coleman again, maybe even forcing him to eat crow over his cruel, unsympathetic treatment of her during the worst weeks of her life. The opportunity to slap him in the face with her new success at Delacourt Oil had been too irresistible to pass up, just as Jeb had guessed it would be.

That was her reason for accepting. It remained to be seen what Jeb’s motives had been for seeking her out and asking her to share the evening with him. She sincerely doubted it had been some altruistic inclination to help her get even with her old boss. She also couldn’t help wondering just how much Jeb knew about her firing. The dismissal itself was common knowledge. The reasons behind it were less so. Even back then, she had worked very hard to keep her private life private.

Whatever Jeb’s motives, she was determined to avoid “sexy” at all costs. She’d seen the glint of masculine appreciation in his eyes. She figured his imagination was working overtime as it was. There was no point in giving him anything blatantly provocative to work with. She intended to keep Friday night all-business or die trying.

“What about this one?” Carly Winthrop asked, calling Brianna’s attention to a slender sheath of shimmery bronze. “It would be devastating with your coloring.”

Carly had picked the consignment shop for their lunch-hour excursion, declaring that the bargains were incredible. “All those rich biddies who can’t bear to be seen in the same dress twice take their castoffs there,” she had explained. “It’s like walking into designer heaven for all us poor folks.”

“How much?” Brianna asked, her gaze fixed on the bronze dress. She’d never owned anything like it and, to her amazement, she discovered she very much wanted to. She stiffened her resolve. “I’m not going bankrupt for this event.”

“Just try it on,” her assistant urged. “Then we’ll see about the price.”

“There’s a tag right on it,” Brianna pointed out. “What does it say?”

“It says it was made for you,” Carly responded, removing it and tucking it into her pocket. “Try it on.”

The dress really was a dream. Slinky and elegant at the same time, provocative but not daring. Brianna itched to reach out and run her fingers over the luxurious fabric. But a glimpse of the label told her that the dress had probably cost in the thousands when new. She doubted it had been reduced enough for her wallet.

“I’m sure I’ll find something else,” she said, unable to mask the regret in her voice.

“You want this dress,” Carly countered with the unerring conviction of a woman who’d learned to read her boss well. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want. I’m not going to pay a fortune for a dress I’ll wear one time and that’s that.”

“Think of it as an investment. You’re going out with one of Houston’s wealthiest, most eligible bachelors. Reel him in and you can have a closet filled with dresses like this one.”

“I have no intention of reeling in Jeb Delacourt or anyone else,” Brianna replied firmly. “I don’t have time for a social life.”

“Then what do you call this date?”

“Lunacy.”

Carly blinked. “I beg your pardon.”

“It was a mistake, an impulse, a desire for revenge.”

“You have something against Mr. Delacourt?”

Brianna shook her head. “No, my battle is with someone else. Jeb is just giving me a chance to claim a very sweet victory.”

“Does he know that? Isn’t he going to be ticked off when he figures out you’re using him?”

“He knows,” Brianna assured her. “That’s how he got me to agree to go in the first place.”

Carly sank down on a delicate Queen Anne chair, the dress cascading over her lap in waves of bronze. “This is way too complicated for me. I like the kind of date where the guy who asks actually wants to spend time with me and vice versa.”

“In a perfect world, that’s what we all want. My world has veered sharply off course.”

“I don’t get it. You’re beautiful. You’re single. You have an incredible career. What’s off course?”

Carly’s incredulity was the price Brianna had to pay for keeping Emma a secret. “It’s not important,” she assured the young woman, who was fingering the fabric of the bronze dress longingly.

Brianna sighed. “Hand it over,” she said, gesturing for the dress. “It can’t hurt to try it on.”

“Isn’t that what I’ve been telling you?” Carly replied, beaming her approval. “You will knock them all dead in this dress.”

“Now there’s a goal to aspire to,” Brianna said wryly as she went into the dressing room.

She slipped off her shoes, then her blouse and skirt. A glance at the dress also assured her she’d have to ditch her bra, too. When she was ready, she slid the dress over her head and felt the soft glide of silky fabric caress her skin as it fell into place. She zipped it up before daring a look in the mirror. When she finally looked, her mouth fell open.

She looked…incredible. Sophisticated and ultrachic. Dazzling. Those were definitely words that had never been ascribed to her in the past. She was more inclined toward tailored clothes in the office and rugged outdoor wear for on-site explorations. This dress turned an inveterate tomboy into a sleek, desirable woman. She wanted to strip it off before she got too used to the image.

She wanted to wear it forever. That was such a dangerous desire that she reached quickly for the zipper, but it was stuck. She poked her head out of the dressing room and called for Carly.

“Let me see,” her assistant commanded.

Brianna shook her head. “Just help me get the zipper unstuck. It’s all wrong for me.”

Carly yanked open the dressing room curtain, then gaped. “Wrong? You think this is all wrong? Either you’re blind or you’ve been staying out in the sun way too long and it’s fried your brain. This dress is perfect. It’s devastating.”

Wear something sexy. You’ll bring him to his knees.

Jeb’s words came back to taunt her. Was that what she wanted? Did she want to see Max Coleman’s mouth drop open as hers and Carly’s had? Did she want him to regret the day he’d dismissed her? Yes, but not because she looked so darned good in a dress. She wanted him to regret it because she was great at what she did and he was a mean-spirited fool.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to go to that ball armed and dangerous, so to speak. Temptation overruled logic. As Carly freed the zipper, Brianna made up her mind.

“I’ll take it.”

“Way to go, girl. Mr. Delacourt won’t know what hit him.”

Jeb? For just a moment, Brianna had been so intent on revenge, she’d almost forgotten her date. Sweet heaven, this was no dress to be wearing on a date with her boss. She needed something simple, a basic little black dress that could last for years, even if it did spend most of the time in the back of her closet. She swallowed hard and carefully replaced the bronze dress on its hanger.

“Carly, remember that black dress I was looking at?”

Carly’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “The one that looked as if it would suit your grandmother?”

“Yes, that one,” Brianna said firmly. “Get it for me, please.”

“Don’t tell me—”

“Just get it, okay? No lectures.”

“You’re going to regret this,” her assistant warned.

“No,” she said with a determined shake of her head. “No, I won’t.”

The black dress, with its long sleeves and white satin cuffs and collar, was sophisticated, too, she told herself. Even if she did look a little like a nun in it, she conceded, studying her reflection in the dressing room mirror. It was perfect for an evening with a man known far and wide as a scoundrel. It would send a very definite message that she wasn’t available, that this evening was all about business. Dignified and prim, it was the perfect solution.

She marched out to buy it, feeling reassured that there would be no contradictory messages being sent later that evening. But even as she stood at the counter to pay for it, her gaze kept straying around the consignment shop for one last glimpse of that spectacular bronze dress.

“Looking for something?” Carly inquired innocently.

“No,” she insisted.

“Well, it’s gone,” her assistant said. “In case you were interested, after all.”

Brianna felt some vague little spark inside her die. For a few minutes in that dress, she had felt like a sexy, totally alive female again, instead of a responsible professional, a single mom with no illusions about the lack of romance in her life. She’d had no idea a dress could transform the way a person felt about herself.

“Somebody bought it?” she asked, trying to mask her disappointment.

“Obviously somebody recognized a knockout dress when they saw one,” Carly declared pointedly. “Snatched it right up without even trying it on.”

“Good for them,” Brianna said without much enthusiasm. She signed the credit card receipt for her basic black dress, accepted the package and left the store without a backward glance. “Let’s get back to the office. We have a lot of work to do. And Mrs. Hanover will be wondering what on earth happened to us.”

“Work?” Carly echoed incredulously. “You should be at home pampering yourself, taking a nice long bubble bath. I’m sure your secretary will cover for you, if anyone calls. And I can handle any emergencies that crop up. Not that there are a lot of emergencies with rocks that have been around forever.”

“Indulging in bubble baths is for people who don’t have a mountain of paperwork on their desks.”

“You really are going to give women a bad name,” her assistant grumbled when they arrived back at the office. “Mr. Delacourt is used to going out with society women who have nothing but time on their hands. You’re not even going for a manicure, am I right?”

Brianna grinned at her despondent tone. “You’re right.”

Carly shook her head. “Pitiful.” A moment later her expression brightened. “I know. I’ll give you a manicure, while you’re doing that all-important paperwork.”

“Manicures are not in your job description,” Brianna protested as she tossed her new dress onto the couch in her office and settled behind her desk.

“I’ll do it on my coffee break.”

“You don’t get a coffee break.”

“I do now.” She bounced out of Brianna’s office, then returned with three shades of nail polish. She held them up for Brianna’s inspection. “Which one?”

“Carly—”

Ignoring her, Carly pulled up a chair, chose the shade herself and began shaking the bottle. “This one, I think. Hold out your hand.”

Despite her very strong instinct to refuse, Brianna couldn’t seem to stop herself from doing as Carly instructed. She watched in fascination as the dark polish with its hint of bronze was applied. The younger woman glanced up and caught her expression.

“Haven’t you ever had a manicure before?”

“Not really. When you spend your life playing with rocks and digging around for soil samples, it doesn’t make a lot of sense. I’m lucky I even have nails.”

“Pitiful,” Carly decreed for the second time that day.

A few minutes later, when all the nails had been painted, she leaned back and studied them with satisfaction. “Perfect.”

“I’m glad you’re pleased,” Brianna said wryly, but she couldn’t tear her own gaze away, either. Her hands no longer looked like a workman’s. In fact, they looked almost as if they might belong to a lady.

“Maybe I will go home and take that bubble bath after all,” she said.

Carly grinned. “All right! Remember to take notes tonight. I’ll want to hear every last detail on Monday.”

“I’m not going on this date for your vicarious enjoyment,” Brianna pointed out.

“I thought you said that it wasn’t a date, it was business. I am your assistant, aren’t I? If it’s business, we should have something on record.”

“You have a very twisted mind,” Brianna proclaimed.

“Will I get the details or not?”

A faint stirring of excitement fluttered in Brianna’s stomach. It had been a long time since she’d felt anything like it. Because she owed at least some of that to her assistant, she nodded.

“You’ll get details. I’ll make it a point to remember what everyone is wearing and what food was served.”

“Forget all that. I just want to know what kind of a kisser Mr. Delacourt is.”

Brianna gulped. “Forget it. No kissing. No telling.”

Maybe if she repeated that often enough between now and six-thirty, she wouldn’t even be tempted. But something told her it was going to be a wasted effort, especially if Jeb Delacourt had other ideas.

Chapter Three

Brianna soaked in her hyacinth-scented bubble bath for a half hour, which was more feminine self-indulgence than she’d experienced in years. She fiddled with her hair and managed to coax a little curl into the short style, then added one of those fancy rhinestone-studded hair clips shaped like a butterfly. Emma had given it to her last Christmas. She’d had one of the nurses at the rehab center pick it out, then had wrapped it in paper she’d colored herself with swirls of holiday red and green.

At six o’clock Brianna slipped on the black dress and lost a little of the sparkle in her eyes. It was a lovely gown, but compared to the one she hadn’t bought, it was boring. It did nothing for her figure or her coloring. It just covered her body—most of her body, she noted glumly.

Which was exactly what she’d wanted, she reminded herself. She might want to make an impression on Max Coleman, but she needed to keep Jeb Delacourt’s mind strictly on business.

She turned away from the mirror just as the doorbell rang. Since it was barely six-ten, she doubted it was Jeb. She padded to the door in her stockinged feet and found a stranger on the doorstep.

“Yes?”

The man glanced down at a slip. “Brianna O’Ryan? That you?”

“Yes.”

He held out a large box and a form.

Brianna noted despondently that he didn’t even give her a second glance in her boring black gown. “Yes, but I’m not expecting—”

“Your name and address are on here. That’s what I go by,” he countered, and waited for her to sign.

She signed his form, accepted the box and went to get him a tip. When he had left, she stared at the box, then recognized the name of the consignment shop in discreet gold letters in the lower corner.

“What on earth?” she murmured, pulling off the lid, then unfolding layers of tissue paper. Her eyes widened when she saw the bronze dress nestled inside, along with a note.

Clutching the dress, she ripped open the note.

“I figured you’d be suffering pangs of regret about now and, if you aren’t, you should be,” Carly had written. “Enjoy.”

“I’m going to fire her,” Brianna muttered, even as she raced back to her room and changed into the killer dress. She sighed as she twirled in front of her mirror. “Then again, anyone who dares to defy the boss when she’s wrong ought to get a raise.” She took another excited survey of her image. “A really big raise.”

The charity ball turned out to be a masterstroke, Jeb concluded as he held Brianna in his arms and whirled her around the dance floor. She was concentrating so hard on looking for her ex-boss, she was paying little attention to the questions Jeb was asking. Her responses, for once, were uncensored, if not particularly illuminating.

Unfortunately, he was having an equally difficult time concentrating. He had been ever since he’d arrived on her doorstep and caught his first glimpse of her in a dress that even Cinderella would have envied. His mouth had gone dry, and he’d been having difficulty swallowing ever since. Why had he never suspected that the beautiful Brianna was capable of bringing a man’s heart slamming to a halt? Because of his taunt, he’d fully expected her to be covered from head to toe in black, something discreet, something that wouldn’t have every male head in the room swiveling for another, longer look. Unless he was very careful, he was going to forget what this evening was all about.

In fact, he’d been so dumbstruck when she opened her door that he hadn’t even taken note of what little he could see of the interior of her small townhouse. His surprise at the modest community in which she lived had vanished in a sea of purely masculine appreciation.

Now he caught the speculative glances of some of his oldest and dearest bachelor friends and tightened his grip on Brianna possessively. This reaction was a very bad sign, he noted, forcing himself to take a step back and look Brianna directly in the eyes. Another mistake, he realized, when his throat went dry again.

“Having fun?” he managed to ask finally.

“I didn’t come to have fun,” she murmured, avoiding his gaze.

“What the heck,” he countered. “Have some anyway. It’s free.”

Her gaze swept the room again. “Where is Max Coleman? Shouldn’t he be here by now?”

“There are a thousand people crushed into this ballroom. I’m sure he’s here somewhere. If we keep dancing, we’re bound to bump into him.”

Brianna regarded him suspiciously. “He is going to be here, though, right? You’re sure of it.”

“That’s what I was told. Maybe we should take a break, get some champagne and you can tell me why he fired you.”