Playboy Bachelors. Marie Ferrarella

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СКАЧАТЬ more upscale cities within Southern California. None of the neighborhoods were allowed to run down. Everything looked new or at least lovingly cared for. There was an abundance of pride within the city that kept its homes neat and looking their best.

      Parking her car by the curb, Janice marched up the dozen or so white cement stairs that led up to the front door and knocked. First once, then twice and then a third time.

      Nothing.

      Maybe she should have called first, she thought. But if she had called and Zabelle had told her not to come, she would have lost the advantage of talking to him face to face. She always did better in person than over the phone.

      Janice raised her hand to knock one more time.

      “Looking for Philippe?”

      Startled, her hand still raised, she swung around and found a tall, good-looking, dark-haired man with an easy smile and kind eyes standing to her left. She hadn’t even heard him approach. Belatedly, she dropped her hand, realizing that, had he been standing any closer to her, she would have wound up punching him.

      “Yes,” she said when she regained possession of her voice. “I guess he’s not home.”

      “Oh, he’s in there,” the man assured her. “He just tends to slip into another world when he’s working. Doesn’t see or hear anything else but what’s on the screen in front of him.”

      “Dedicated,” she commented.

      The man smiled, amused. “One way of looking at it.” Taking out a key, he unlocked the front door, pushed it open, then stood back. “Go ahead,” he urged, gesturing toward the inside of the house.

      She hung back. “I don’t know if I should just walk in.”

      “I do it all the time.” A grin flashed as he pocketed the key and he extended his hand to her. “Hi, I’m Georges. Philippe’s brother,” he added.

      “Oh.” Realizing that she was standing there like a bump on a log, Janice slipped her hand into his and shook it.

      Georges’s dark blue eyes were bright with curiosity as they swept over her. There was something unobtrusive about the way he did it. She took no offense. “And you are?”

      “J. D. Wyatt,” she told him, then added, “I’m supposed to do some work on your brother’s house.”

      Recognition entered his eyes. “Oh, right, you’re the one Vincent mentioned.” And then, as his own words registered, he seemed to do a mental double take. “You’re J.D.?”

      She smiled, removing her hand from his. This was the reaction she was accustomed to. “Not exactly what you expected, right?”

      Rather than look embarrassed, he grinned. The man was charming, she thought. His brother could probably stand to pick up a few pointers—not that that mattered in the scheme of things, she reminded herself.

      “Only in my better dreams,” he told her. “Philippe didn’t mention that he actually hired anyone, only that he was thinking about it.”

      That didn’t bode well, Janice thought. Had Zabelle changed his mind after all? He’d signed contracts, but there was always a way around that if a person was clever and she didn’t have the money for a lawyer to fight him on this anyway. Served her right from not insisting on getting a check right up front, right after Zabelle had signed on the dotted lines.

      “But then,” Georges added quickly, “Philippe doesn’t say that much of anything, especially when he’s in the middle of a project.”

      She had a feeling that Zabelle’s brother was just trying to make her feel better. She examined him more closely. As brothers, they were more different than alike, she decided. “What does he do, your brother?”

      “A little bit of everything.” There was no missing the pride in the man’s voice. “But officially, Philippe’s a computer programmer. Right now, he’s designing software packages for online advertisers.”

      She glanced toward the opened door. They still had not gone inside. “And he works at home?”

      Georges nodded. “Turns into a regular hermit when he’s in the middle of designing something.” He walked in, then turned when she didn’t follow him. “C’mon, let’s track him down.”

      When she’d gotten behind the wheel, she had been completely fired up. But on the way over, some of that fire had dissipated. It was one thing to confront the man at his door and read him an abbreviated version of the riot act about wasting her time, it was another to go from room to room, looking for him and running the risk of possibly catching him in a way he wouldn’t want to be caught. God knew she wouldn’t have appreciated having someone skulking around her house, looking for her.

      She forced a smile to her lips. “Why don’t you find him for me?” she suggested. Because he was looking at her expectantly, she ventured a few steps into the house, then indicated the living room. “I’ll be right here, waiting for you.”

      The smile on his lips washed over her, leaving no part untouched. She really, really had to start dating again. Either that or begin working out rigorously—which she’d be doing if she were working, she silently insisted, bringing the argument full circle.

      “Have it your way,” Georges said. Turning, he faced the rear of the house and called out, “Hey, Philippe, where’re you hiding?”

      Still standing, Janice knotted her fingers together, feeling incredibly awkward. She closed her eyes for a second, trying to frame her first words to Zabelle under the present circumstances.

      Georges had no sooner left the area than Philippe walked in from the kitchen. He stopped abruptly when he saw that there was a woman standing in the living room. The math equations that he’d been mentally grappling with receded as recognition set in.

      J.D.

      That still didn’t answer what she was doing here. Or how she’d gotten in. He was damn certain he’d locked the front door. “Did I miss seeing cat burglar on your résumé?”

      Her eyes flew open. Surprise and embarrassment took equal possession of her features. The resulting color was rather intriguing.

      “I knocked,” Janice protested.

      He was pretty sure he hadn’t heard anyone knocking, but he gave her the benefit of the doubt. Because of where his office was located, he probably wouldn’t have heard the approach of the Four Horsemen, either.

      “And then broke in?” he guessed.

      “No,” she protested quickly. The color in her cheeks rose up another notch. “Your brother let me in.”

      Both of his brothers were a bit too free about coming and going from his place, but then, he supposed he should count himself lucky. It could have been his mother and there would have been no end to her questions. To J.D.

      “Which one?” he asked mildly.

      “He said his name was Georges.” Curiosity got the better of her. “You have more than one?”

      The shrug was careless. He СКАЧАТЬ