Who's The Boss?. Barbara Boswell
you hear the latest breaking news on the Brennan front?” Noah asked, drawing a pensive Cade’s attention. “Brent has been arrested and is in jail. Get this, he’d set up a videocam—”
“I heard. Bobbie called in full-blown hysterics. Did you know that unauthorized filming of individuals is a burglary charge?”
“I do now.”
“How did you hear about Brent so quickly? From Bridget? I guess Bobbie must’ve called her here and—”
“Actually, it was Brenda who called and told me, a short while ago.”
“Brenda?” Cade gaped at him. “Why would Brenda call you?”
“It seems I’m her new best friend.” Noah shrugged nonchalantly, but Cade noticed that the other man did not meet his eyes.
He felt an ominous stirring. “How did that happen? And when?”
Noah shrugged again and gazed intently at the lake view, as if bent on observing every rise and swell of the water. “I saw her at The Corner Grill about three weeks ago and we ended up having coffee there after her shift ended. I’ve heard from her almost every day since. She either phones or drops by my place with a question or with something she’s whipped up in the kitchen. She’s, uh, a pretty good cook.”
“You’ve been seeing her every day for nearly a month?” Cade’s voice rose in apprehension.
“Nothing’s happened between us. As I said, we’re just friends.”
“You sound sorry about that. Does that mean you’re thinking about—taking things further with her? God, man, be careful!”
“You sound so alarmed, like I’m about to take a dive into a vat of Agent Orange.” Noah grinned, clearly amused. “What are you worried about, that Brenda is set on having her wicked way with me?”
“I’m worried because she is Brenda Brennan, who is manipulative and conniving and the first woman I’ve heard you mention since Janice left Port McClain two and a half years ago.”
“I’ve spent the past two and a half years exactly the way you have, working sixteen-hour days to implement our ideas and bring this company to the industry’s cutting edge.” Noah was defensive. “I haven’t been pining over Janice or avoiding women, I’ve been focusing all my attention and energy on BrenCo.”
Cade laid a hand on Noah’s shoulder. “Look, I know how hard you took the divorce and I don’t want to see you get mixed up with a—”
“I appreciate your concern, but we’re not nineteen anymore, Cade, you don’t have to look out for me. I’ve been married and divorced, remember? You’ve done neither. Doesn’t that make me the more experienced one? The one who should be giving the advice?”
“No. Not when Brenda Brennan is involved.” Or any other woman, Cade added silently.
Despite Noah’s marriage and divorce, Cade believed his friend to be as naive about women as he’d been during their college years. Back then Cade, a worldly army brat with a wealth of experience, had felt protective toward the shy, brilliant Noah who’d led a quiet sheltered life of privilege and private schools. He still felt that way.
Cade decided that now was not the time to remind Noah how he’d advised him against marrying Janice in the first place, that he had seen the divorce coming on their wedding day when he’d been cast as best man and had to pretend to be happy for the woefully mismatched pair.
“Cade, I know you’re the expert on the Brennans but you’re wrong about Brenda,” Noah exclaimed earnestly. “I’ve gotten to know her pretty well these past few weeks. She is bright and sensitive and vulnerable.”
“I’ve never seen that side of her,” Cade muttered sardonically.
Lord, what a day this was turning into! First, he’d been blindsided by his attraction to Kylie Brennan, now he was faced with the alarming revelation that his best friend and the number two man at BrenCo was on the verge of being bamboozled by Brenda Brennan.
His eyes flicked to his desk calendar and he noted the date for the first time that day. March 15. “Beware the Ides of March,” he quoted grimly. “An applicable bit of advice.”
“Don’t let the mayor hear you say that. Not on the day we’re to convince him that supporting our zoning permit to build an infectious waste autoclave is a great idea.” Chuckling, Noah glanced at his watch. “And speaking of the mayor, if we don’t leave now, we’ll be late for our meeting with him. A bad move. You know how His Honor reveres punctuality.”
Cade stifled the urge to issue one more warning about the insidious wiles of Brenda Brennan. Noah didn’t want to hear it, he’d made that clear. Worse, Cade found himself challenging his own expertise in matters dealing with the opposite sex. His previously resolute confidence was not quite so resolute.
This morning’s encounter with Kylie Brennan had done that to him. He’d always considered himself to be unshakable, but she shook him up, all right. She just might be the most dangerous Brennan of all—smart and alluring and a completely unknown entity. He vowed to be on his guard—on full-alert status!—during their next encounter.
It worried him that he was already looking forward to it.
The old Brennan homestead was a stately though dilapidated Victorian-style house built in the late 1800s in Port McClain’s oldest neighborhood The spacious lots were landscaped with towering trees, tall hedges and flower gardens. Gene had bought the house for his parents years ago and lived there with them until they died, then stayed on alone until his own death last year.
Wearing jeans, boots and a thick cerulean blue sweater, Kylie sat on a weather-beaten wooden glider on the deep front porch. She’d driven her rental car to the house to oversee the flurry of activity initiated by her morning phone calls.
She stared out at the long, spacious front yard extending to the deserted tree-lined street and remembered summer visits when her grandparents were alive, when the yard was green and bnght with color from Grandma’s prized gardens. Now it looked as desolate and untended as the inside of the house, where currently a trio of maids from the cleaning service were working hard to make the place livable once again.
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