At Your Service, Jack
JEEVES NEVER LOOKED THIS GOOD…Freddi Elliott needs a job, fast. And she's willing to take anything–even a job as some old coot's butler. Only, little does Freddi know that this assignment will test not only her domestic skills, but also her libido. Because her new boss is stubborn, obnoxious…and utterly irresistible.Jack Carlisle has only a few weeks to learn some manners. Otherwise, he can kiss the cash from his uncle for a new business venture goodbye. Jack doesn't have a clue how to begin, but hopes his new butler can offer a few suggestions. What he doesn't expect is to be the one doing all the suggesting. And his first recommendation is to get Freddi out of those stuffy clothes and into his bed…
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âYou certainly donât look like my butler tonight.â
Jackâs tone turned husky and sent a shiver down Freddiâs spine. She was ultra aware of how sexily she was dressed. With his eyes on her, she felt exposed, vulnerable.
âI approve of the getup.â His gaze was hot on hers. âWhy canât you wear those kind of clothes all the time?â
âTheyâd be a bit restricting in bed.â Oh, hell, had she really said that?
His eyes smoldered. âAre you a woman who likes a challenge?â
âOf course I am,â she said, trying to regain some ground. âOtherwise, I wouldnât still be working for you.â
âGood.â He winked at her. How she wished he wouldnât do that. It caused instant meltdown. âWant to arm wrestle?â
Was he joking? She bit her lip, eyeing the bulging width of his biceps. She could think of better things to do.
âWhat are the stakes?â she asked suspiciously.
His smile was sensual, suggestive and enough to have every lustful cell in her body come to quivering life.
âDonât worry. If youâre lucky I might let you keep some of those sexy clothes on.â
Dear Reader,
I was flipping through the pages of a British magazine when I came across an article that recounted one womanâs experience at a school for butlers. What really caught my eye, though, was the photograph of her bringing breakfast in bed to her gorgeous hunk of an employer. Well! That was all it took to set the creative juices flowing.
Soon I was writing about the adventures of Freddi and Jack. Every now and then my husband appeared in my study to find out what was making me chuckle. Even our Himalayan cat, Figaro (the vainest cat in North America and a substitute for our four grown kids), nosed around my keyboard to sniff out what was keeping me so entertained.
I hope Freddi and Jackâs romance will give you a smile or two, and reaffirm the importance of love. Spinning stories such as this allows me to share the passion, laughter and joy that Iâm able to find in my life. Romance novels have helped me through the light and the dark moments of my many journeys and I hope this story can do the same for you.
Wishing you as much fun in reading this as I had in writing it!
Brenda Hammond
Want to know more about Brenda Hammond? Visit eHarlequin at www.eHarlequin.com/authors.
To Nancy Frost and Eve Silver.
Working with you is right up there
with the best things that have ever happened to me.
Contents
1
FREDERICA IMOGEN ELLIOTT negotiated the icy steps leading up to the oak-paneled front door, a flight bag dangling from one hand. Her fancy, lizard-skin boots were definitely not up to keeping a grip on Torontoâs pavements in March. The leather soles slithered and slipped all over the place. And she didnât appreciate the fast-flying snow that seemed determined to blanket her. Thank goodness her stiff-brimmed hat kept the flakes out of her eyes.
At the top, her gaze met the eye-level, brassy glare of the door knockerâa lion with an overbite problem. Seizing the ring, she gave it three sharp raps. Her satisfaction evaporated when she noticed a bell on the left. Why couldnât she get anything right?
Seconds before she was transformed into a snow-woman, a man with a tattoo and a dayâs growth of beard yanked open the door. Oh God, Freddi thought, what had she got herself into? He was so tall. And his clothes! There was no hemming at the neck of his T-shirt, which meant she could see his chest. His sweatpants hung loose and low at the waist, revealing a slice of taut, lightly furred stomach. What a scruff. And he was wearing a bandanna! Her first, and with any luck, only, assignment was going to be much more difficult than sheâd ever imagined.
She cleared her suddenly husky throat. âGood evening, Mr. Carlisle. Iâm Freddi Elliott andââ
âSorry, Iâm not entertaining till later.â His voice was gruff, his consonants slurred. And he shut the door in her face.
How rude! This man was definitely in need of civilizing. If she wasnât so desperate to fix her life sheâd turn around right now and go back to the U.K. Trying not to feel intimidated, Freddi jabbed the bell. Again the door opened.
Dark eyebrows crunched together. âI told you to go away!â
Quickly, before he could close the door, she shoved her foot into the narrowing gap.
âJust a minute!â Her voice rose horribly close to a squeal. âYouâre expecting me.â
âI am?â The door opened a fraction wider. âYou must be mistaken.â He folded his arms across the not-to-be-ignored width of his chest. âI know that the woman Iâm expecting tonight is tall and blond, just as I specified. Obviously, you donât fit the bill.â
Quickly he looked her up and down, one eyebrow quirking when he saw her footwear. âQuite apart from the fact thatââ unfolding his arms, he shot his wrist forward and checked his watch ââif you are the babe from the agency, youâre an hour early.â
