“What are you doing?”
Carina’s voice made Steph jump out of her skin. She whipped around to face a smug smile.
“Hello, Ms. Parker.” Stephanie dipped her head in a gesture she hoped was sufficiently humble. “I was… I was headed to the kitchen to grab some coffee for Bran—I mean for Mr. Knight. Would you like for me to bring you a cup?”
Her eyebrows only twitched a millimeter, but Stephanie knew she’d been caught by surprise. “Certainly. I like it with—”
“A teaspoon of cream. No sugar.”
This time, the brows arched high. Carina had to wonder how Steph knew, since they’d never spent any time together. Steph didn’t reveal that she’d overheard Carina ordering coffee at the party Saturday night.
“Ms. Parker, I’d like to apologize for my attitude earlier this morning. I’m afraid the stress of the move made me forget my place. I’m loyal to Mr. Knight, so I’m loyal to you.”
Her arms folded, slender fingers with perfectly manicured French nails tapping an impatient rhythm. “Forgive me if I think you’re lying through your teeth.”
With Ellie’s needs at the forefront of her mind, Steph bit her sarcastic tongue and forced a fake smile on her face. How she wanted to jab splinters under Carina’s impeccable fingernails! “The two of you are obviously in love. I want what’s best for my boss, and I’m smart enough to know that’s you.”
“Or…” Carina lifted a hand to her chin and tapped a finger against her lips. “You want what’s best for you, and you’re wise enough to know you need me.”
Steph let her smile fade. “Either way, I’m committed to support your relationship in any way I can. I’m not claiming to have much influence, but what little I have will be going your direction. I won’t criticize you or try to interfere. I promise.”
“Believe me, I’m not worried about your influence.” A mocking sneer slid onto Carina’s face. “I’ll take your promise, though I’m not making any. My moods change so quickly. You know how it is.”
Stephanie stood speechless as Carina turned her back and glided down the hallway with smooth strides like a model on a runway. When she disappeared into Bran’s office, a chill assaulted Steph’s spine. Her Granny used to say when you felt that, it meant someone was walking on your grave. Steph shook her head, turning toward the kitchen. “In my case, Carina would probably dance on it.”
Though she only needed sixty seconds to prepare the coffee, Stephanie took her time. Carina had rejected her peace offering, so Steph needed to be even more careful to stay in Branson’s good graces. Unfortunately, she had no idea what he wanted from her.
Did he suspect her attraction for him? Had it been a trick to force her to admit to it? He’d certainly set every nerve-ending on fire when his hands grasped her arms, examining her with magical, x-ray vision.
He had to know. There was no other reasonable explanation. He knew she was hopelessly in love with him. He knew, and he didn’t return the feeling.
Balancing the mugs on a tray, she returned to Branson’s private office, her expression revealing none of the private turmoil she felt. “I’ve got your coffee.”
Branson paused, his racing fingers on the Braille keyboard. “Great. Here.” He patted an empty spot on his desk and returned to his typing, as if nothing had happened between them. As if she hadn’t bared her soul to him and experienced agonizing rejection. Okay, maybe she was exaggerating a little bit, but she was irritated he seemed unaffected by the whole ordeal.
Ignoring everyone, Carina sprawled on the leather couch, designer shoes carelessly tossed on the floor, her eyes glued to her phone screen. Steph placed Carina’s coffee on the table beside her, with the distinct impression of being invisible. Was this going to be the new norm? Carina lurking in the background while they were trying to work? I guess she wants to be sure nothing illicit is going on between Bran and me.
“Stephanie, are you ready to start? I’ve already recorded two hours of dictation. You’ll have to wade through it, because I went back and corrected things.”
Was Bran’s tone more gentle than usual, or was that Steph’s imagination? She slid into her customary chair beside Bran’s desk and opened her laptop, diving into the day’s work. Soon she was engrossed in transcribing Bran’s dictations playing in her earpiece, and at about two p.m., her stomach gurgled to complain of missed lunch.
“Was that your stomach?” asked Bran. “Or a pack of werewolves on the hunt?”
Stephanie pressed her hand on her rowdy abdomen, to no avail. “I guess I’m hungry.”
“Let’s go to lunch. Mine is getting noisy, too.” His hand swept toward the door.
A quick glance around the room revealed Carina was missing. “What happened to Ms. Parker?”
“I can’t believe you missed all that.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Didn’t you notice when she dragged me outside into the hallway?”
“Kind of. But I had my dictation earpiece in. I was working on those communications you recorded earlier today, and I can’t hear much else.
He shook his head as if he had a hard time swallowing her explanation. “She complained she was bored and demanded I take her shopping.”
Steph almost laughed out loud, imagining how that went over. “I guess she learned you don’t respond well to demands.”
As a crooked grin appeared on his face, she warmed all over, knowing she was responsible for it. “Needless to say, Carina is now shopping on her own.”
His hand nestled in the small of her back, as if he were the one guiding her down the hallway. She realized if the interior was pitch black, she would totally trust him to lead her through the dark. He never erred.
By the time they were both seated at the table, with lunch in front of them, Stephanie had done her usual thing, describing in detail all about the move and how excited Ellie was that she would have a new home when she returned from school. She was most excited that she would have her own room with a big bed, instead of sharing a bedroom with her mom.
Swallowing his last bite, Bran sat back and pushed his plate away, patting his lips with his napkin. Steph suddenly wondered if Bran’s dislike of children extended to hearing stories about them. She talked about Ellie way too much.
“I’m sorry,” said Steph. “I always run at the mouth. I can’t seem to stop myself.”
“I enjoy your stories,” he said, politely.
But Steph wasn’t fooled. She scrambled to change the subject. “Are you excited about the Vegas trip? The guys said you love it, and you used to go all the time. I can’t picture you there.”
“No? Why not?” came his tight-lipped reply.
“I don’t know. I guess because you don’t drink alcohol or eat rich foods. And I can’t see you gambling your money away in Vegas. You’re such a…” She let her words fade as his expression hardened.
“Go ahead. Finish the sentence,” he urged, his jaw muscles bulging.
