Brows up, Charlotte snorted. “I’m not your pimp.”
Brodie cocked one brow. “She wants to hire me, brat.”
“Not anymore, she doesn’t. She’s doing her best to convince Jack to take the job instead.” With a wink, she sidled past him and down the hall to the office with the drinks.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered to her back, apparently not low enough.
Red leaned out the door to frown at him, but got collected back inside by Charlotte entering.
He heard Jack doing introductions. “Ms. Daniels, this is Charlotte Parrish, our assistant.”
“Their everything,” Charlotte corrected. Then the little witch shut the door so he couldn’t hear anything else.
Howler gave Brodie a look, then pivoted to trot after Charlotte, knowing she was the real source of food.
Annoyed, Brodie shoved into the bathroom, but wished he hadn’t when the door hit the wall and his head tried to crack and fall off his shoulders.
After digging aspirin from the crooked medicine cabinet, he washed them down with water from the tap, scrubbed his hands with the special soap to remove as much grease as he could, and splashed his face and chest.
One look in the mirror and he knew he hadn’t improved things much. He still looked like hell. He thought about getting his shirt from his car...
Fuck it.
He rapidly dried off and sauntered to the office, opening the door and stepping inside just as Red was making her argument.
Charlotte blew him a kiss on her way out.
“Yes, my boss requested Brodie specifically, but that was based off internet research. I’m sure he wouldn’t be opposed to hiring you instead-”
“No.” Brodie turned a chair to face her profile and slouched into it, his sprawled legs only inches from touching her small feet.
As Red inhaled, her extraordinary chest swelled, her chin tucked in, and her brows came down. It was an impressive show of anger and control.
If he wasn’t a dick, he might have felt chastened.
She slowly turned her head to pinpoint him with her brilliant blue-eyed disdain. “You look inebriated,” she stated, her voice a little louder than it needed to be.
“Cuz I was. But that was last night. Now I’m just suffering a hangover.” He winced theatrically. “Have a heart and talk a little softer.”
“Why,” she asked, her voice not one iota quieter, “are you working in the sun if you’re-”
“How else will I learn?”
Her brows smoothed out, then lifted. “Pardon?”
Jack laughed—and since he was a loving brother, he at least moderated his tone. “Brodie is a big believer in self-discipline.”
“More like self-castigation,” Charlotte muttered as she returned with a tray of sandwiches and chips on paper plates. “If he suffers the ill effects of his decisions, maybe he’ll make better ones.”
Brodie saluted her with his water bottle, then took half of his sandwich and offered it Howler. The dog gulped it down in one big bite, then waited hopefully for another.
“Damn, man. You seriously gotta learn to chew.”
Ears up and alert, the dog licked his lips.
Red blinked quickly.
Brodie blinked back at her. Mocking. Taunting.
Why, he didn’t know, but it just happened.
She rolled in her lips and turned away, her curvy little body stiff. “Mr. Crews-”
Jack and Brodie both said, “Yes?”
Her spine straightened even more. Her gaze stayed only on Jack. “I’m quite sure my employer would be pleased to-”
“Jack’s not available.” Brodie bit into the other half of his sandwich.
Her hands fisted in her lap. “I haven’t yet said when I need him.”
When she needed him? Smirking, the wheels already turning—
Jack glared a not-too-subtle warning at him, cutting off the joke he so badly wanted to make. Yeah, he got it. They needed the job.
He swallowed the bite and asked, “What’re the specifics for the job?”
Somehow, the little prude managed to stiffen even more. She looked ready to break—and damn, how he wanted to see that.
Her attention only on Jack—or so she wanted them to believe—she pulled out a manila folder from a soft briefcase she held in her lap.
Tilting his head, Brodie studied her shapely calves and trim ankles beneath a knee-length skirt. Her skin was pale, her legs smooth, her feet small.
Hell, he’d knew plenty of small, smooth, pale women, so why was he getting so twitchy?
“The job is immediate.” She slid the folder across the desk.
In doing so, the skirt grew taut over her sexy rump and rounded thighs.
Yeah, he noticed. Hell, no amount of alcohol or morning-after headaches would keep him from seeing something that luscious.
Little red ringlets, curled from the humidity, stuck to her delicate nape and dangled around ears decorated only with pearl studs.
Realizing he was taking interested inventory, Brodie lounged further back in his seat and gestured for Jack to open the folder and peruse the contents.
First, Jack set aside the enclosed business card, then looked over what Brodie assumed to be a proposed contract. After a few seconds of reading, Jack asked, “Marigold, Kentucky?”
“A very small town that borders Tennessee. I’ve estimated it to be a single day job. Five hours to drive there, an hour to retrieve the item my employer has purchased, then the drive back.” She nodded at the papers. “Sign and you’re hired.”
Jack turned the contract so Brodie could see it, but spoke to the lady. “This says five-thousand dollars. For a day job?”
Brodie nearly whistled. That was some serious cash. “What are we picking up? A dead body?”
Soft lips pinched. “Of course not.”
“A live body?”
She swiveled her head to glare at him, cobalt eyes trying to cut out his heart.
“Hey, I’ve seen Transporter.”
She inhaled, making her breasts strain the front of that damp, thus sheer, blouse. “What my client has purchased is very important to him. He wants to ensure its safety... and it needs to be delivered to him by end of day tomorrow.”
“Does the contract say what it is?” Brodie asked.
“Does it matter?” she returned.
Jack and Brodie shared a look, but hey, five grand was five grand. If he got there and it was anything shady, he could deal with it then.
Decision made, Brodie enjoyed telling her, “Well, Jack’s out.”
“True,” Jack said with sincere apology. “I have a previous commitment that can’t be changed. But Brodie-”
“Your first choice,” Brodie chimed in.
“-is absolutely available.”
Her eyes narrowed.
Knowing he’d gotten his way, without quite knowing why it mattered, Brodie put his arms back in a relaxed pose, his fingers laced behind his neck so he could pop out some tension without being obvious about it. He really did feel like shit.
Yet the day rapidly improved.
Miss Priss glanced at his arm pits, scrunched her face in disapproval and turned back to Jack with a plea. “But-”
“I’m sorry,” Jack said.
She disapproved of armpits? Everyone had them, even prissy redheads. Brodie smiled. “I can leave at 5 A.M.”
After prolonged hesitation and, he guessed, some teeth grinding, she finally nodded.
Thwarting the lady felt so good, it even took the edge off the drumbeat in his temples as he watched her averted face. “Just give me the address and the name of the person I’ll be seeing, whatever other info I need, and I’ll get it done.”
Silently, she closed her briefcase, slid a long strap over her shoulder, and stood.
Jack came to his feet, too.
Brodie didn’t. He tipped his chair back on two legs and watched the frustration play over her face. She wasn’t a real beauty, but she was certainly pretty. The hair was a show-stopper. Those eyes, so damn blue, would draw attention. And that mouth, even while compressed in annoyance, could inspire fantasies.
Here in the cooler air, her freckles weren’t as noticeable.
Shame. They were kinda cute. Maybe sexy even.
All that with curves galore in such a small package, and it was no wonder she affected him.
“Ahem.”