other reaction was a deepening scowl.
Lydia's big brown eyes made a couple of sweeps between them. "Oh .. . well... um ... OK."
"Not OK. He owes you an apology." Both women looked at Garrett, who crossed his arms over his bare chest, clearly unaffected by both Jillian's condemning gaze and Lydia's apologetic trepidation.
"I need a list of everyone who knows your penthouse security code," he said without preamble, "and then we're going to change it."
Jillian blinked. "That's your idea of an apology?"
"You want me to apologize for doing my job?"
"Bullying my assistant is your job?"
"Intercepting an intruder who arrives unannounced, unexpected," he said, pushing off the sofa and walking toward the kitchen, "and sneaks into your penthouse like a thief is part of my job."
He reached for a coffee mug from a nearby cabinet. Tanned bare skin moved fluidly over ropy muscles. Tanned, scarred skin. The one on his forearm. The ones on his back. She'd noticed them last night. And now, thanks to the nice men at Nirvana, he'd have more.
They were the marks of a warrior. Scars of battle. He was about to face another one. "Lydia is not an intruder."
"And I was supposed to know that when I saw her sneaking into the foyer, darting glances toward your bedroom?"
"He's right," Lydia said quickly, diverting Jillian's attention back to her. "I was sneaking in. I was trying to leave your dress without waking you. I figured you were sleeping in today."
"My dress?"
"For the dinner at Mar-A-Lago tonight? You asked me to pick it up at the cleaners?"
Jillian frowned, touched a hand to her brow, then groaned. "Oh, damn. That's tonight? I thought it was next week."
Lydia, tactful as always, looked around for her purse which was still on the floor by the dress. "I can double-check m y day planner, but—"
"No. No," Jillian cut her off with a touch of her fingers to Lydia's arm. "I'm sure you're right. I... I've been a little rattled lately. I spaced it off.
"Oh, Lyd." She searched the younger woman's eyes again for signs of distress. Lydia had worked for KGLO TV almost a year now. With her quirky smile, pale blue eyes, and jet-black hair that looked exactly right with her china doll complexion, Lydia was sometimes moody, often funny, and always caring. She was a sweet kid, a hard worker, and Jillianhated, really hated, that this had happened to her. "I really am so sorry about this."
Again Lydia managed a wobbly smile as she rose on equally unsteady legs. "Yeah, well, it'll make a great story to tell my grandchildren someday."
Jillian rose, too. "Oh, wait, won't you at least have a cup ofcoffee, make sure you're steady before you leave?" she pressed when Lydia headed toward the door.
"I'm good. I'm fine," she insisted with a reassuring smile. "Really. Quit worrying. Besides, I've got to get to work."
Ignoring Garrett, who leaned indolently against the island countertop with one bare foot propped on top of the other, silently sipping his coffee, Jillian walked with her toward the foyer. "You're working the salon today?" Lydia sometimes moonlighted at the Breakers Hotel.
"Just for a few hours." She stooped to pick up her purse and sling it over her shoulder. "Peg called. She's sick and wondered if I'd cover for her."
At the door, she snatched the garment bag off the floor before Jillian could get to it. "Here you go. Have fun tonight."
Jillian folded the dress over her arm. "Fun is not on the agenda. I'm doing this as a favor to a friend. And I owe you big-time for doing this and for putting up with—"
Though Lydia still looked a little shell-shocked, she cut Jillian off with a shake of her head. "I'm just glad to know you've got someone looking out for you."
Behind her, she heard Garrett grunt. She didn't have to turn around to know he was also smirking.
"If this is what I can expect from now on," she said in a clipped voice, after she shut the door behind Lydia, "we're going to have to have a little discussion of the ground rules.
Lydia's big brown eyes made a couple of sweeps between them. "Oh .. . well... um ... OK."
"Not OK. He owes you an apology." Both women looked at Garrett, who crossed his arms over his bare chest, clearly unaffected by both Jillian's condemning gaze and Lydia's apologetic trepidation.
"I need a list of everyone who knows your penthouse security code," he said without preamble, "and then we're going to change it."
Jillian blinked. "That's your idea of an apology?"
"You want me to apologize for doing my job?"
"Bullying my assistant is your job?"
"Intercepting an intruder who arrives unannounced, unexpected," he said, pushing off the sofa and walking toward the kitchen, "and sneaks into your penthouse like a thief is part of my job."
He reached for a coffee mug from a nearby cabinet. Tanned bare skin moved fluidly over ropy muscles. Tanned, scarred skin. The one on his forearm. The ones on his back. She'd noticed them last night. And now, thanks to the nice men at Nirvana, he'd have more.
They were the marks of a warrior. Scars of battle. He was about to face another one. "Lydia is not an intruder."
"And I was supposed to know that when I saw her sneaking into the foyer, darting glances toward your bedroom?"
"He's right," Lydia said quickly, diverting Jillian's attention back to her. "I was sneaking in. I was trying to leave your dress without waking you. I figured you were sleeping in today."
"My dress?"
"For the dinner at Mar-A-Lago tonight? You asked me to pick it up at the cleaners?"
Jillian frowned, touched a hand to her brow, then groaned. "Oh, damn. That's tonight? I thought it was next week."
Lydia, tactful as always, looked around for her purse which was still on the floor by the dress. "I can double-check m y day planner, but—"
"No. No," Jillian cut her off with a touch of her fingers to Lydia's arm. "I'm sure you're right. I... I've been a little rattled lately. I spaced it off.
"Oh, Lyd." She searched the younger woman's eyes again for signs of distress. Lydia had worked for KGLO TV almost a year now. With her quirky smile, pale blue eyes, and jet-black hair that looked exactly right with her china doll complexion, Lydia was sometimes moody, often funny, and always caring. She was a sweet kid, a hard worker, and Jillianhated, really hated, that this had happened to her. "I really am so sorry about this."
Again Lydia managed a wobbly smile as she rose on equally unsteady legs. "Yeah, well, it'll make a great story to tell my grandchildren someday."
Jillian rose, too. "Oh, wait, won't you at least have a cup ofcoffee, make sure you're steady before you leave?" she pressed when Lydia headed toward the door.
"I'm good. I'm fine," she insisted with a reassuring smile. "Really. Quit worrying. Besides, I've got to get to work."
Ignoring Garrett, who leaned indolently against the island countertop with one bare foot propped on top of the other, silently sipping his coffee, Jillian walked with her toward the foyer. "You're working the salon today?" Lydia sometimes moonlighted at the Breakers Hotel.
"Just for a few hours." She stooped to pick up her purse and sling it over her shoulder. "Peg called. She's sick and wondered if I'd cover for her."
At the door, she snatched the garment bag off the floor before Jillian could get to it. "Here you go. Have fun tonight."
Jillian folded the dress over her arm. "Fun is not on the agenda. I'm doing this as a favor to a friend. And I owe you big-time for doing this and for putting up with—"
Though Lydia still looked a little shell-shocked, she cut Jillian off with a shake of her head. "I'm just glad to know you've got someone looking out for you."
Behind her, she heard Garrett grunt. She didn't have to turn around to know he was also smirking.
"If this is what I can expect from now on," she said in a clipped voice, after she shut the door behind Lydia, "we're going to have to have a little discussion of the ground rules.
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