LITMIR.BIZ

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reached her car and was safely inside. The moment he heard her engine start, he locked the door and returned to the workshop.

      His footsteps echoed in the empty space. There was no one waiting for him at home—if you could call a serviced apartment home. He could work here until the wee hours if he wanted to, and no one would miss him or care.

      That was the way he liked it. No strings, no obligations. Nothing hard or demanding or restricting.

      Just him—and the dozen or so monkeys on his back, of course.

       CHAPTER TWO

      GUILT NAGGED AT GABBY ALL through dinner with her old school-friend Shona. Jon had tried to be friendly, and she’d blown him off. He’d asked about her evening, opened the door for her. Then he’d watched until she was safely in her car. Even though those kinds of old-fashioned courtesies made her want to grind her teeth, she could appreciate the good manners behind them.

      He was trying to be nice. And she’d been nothing but prickly and short.

      Brushing her teeth before bed, Gabby tried to work out why he made her so bristly.

      Sure, they’d gotten off on a bum note with the whole him-being-in-her-office thing, but she wasn’t the sort of person to hold a grudge. And yes, she was worried that Tyler was taking on a staff member who was going to hold back the team rather than help them grow. But none of that was enough to explain the way she turned into Mother Superior every time she spoke to him.

      She thought about the moment when he’d faced her after she’d switched off the sander. She’d met his eyes and seen … nothing in their gray depths.

      She paused, her mouth full of minty foam.

      Maybe that was what it was. Jon was a whole lot of man—a commanding, demanding physical presence by sheer dint of the fact that he took up so much damned room—but when she looked at him she got … nothing. No sense of how he was feeling or what he was thinking. No hint of his mood or attitude. Just a contained, polite calm.

      So what? Big deal if the guy doesn’t go around advertising his emotions for all and sundry. He’s a guy. That’s generally what they do. If that’s your big beef with him, you need to get over it, princess.

      Gabby spit, then rinsed her mouth. Tomorrow was a new day. There was no reason why she couldn’t start fresh with him. She’d take the time to chat with him, ask how he was settling in. She’d even insist on him using her computer again if he needed to check anything on the internet. Before long they’d be laughing and joking around the way she did with the other guys.

      He was Tyler’s brother, after all. It was impossible for her not to like him.

      GABBY’S GOOD INTENTIONS turned to dust the next day when Jon didn’t turn up until close to eleven o’clock. She was busy with her own work but she was very aware of his absence because she’d come in with the specific intention of starting over with him.

      Initially, she thought he was simply running a little late, which was fine, since he’d stayed to finish the table last night. As the morning wore on, however, and he still didn’t appear, she began to wonder if he was going to make history as the shortest-lived employee the company had ever had.

      Then, just shy of eleven, Jon sauntered in. She took one look at him and knew exactly why he was late. The heavy eyes, the paleness—he’d had a big night, to use his own terminology. Probably been out to all hours, drinking and God knows what else. Then he’d slept it off and rolled into work as though he owned the place and answered to no one.

      Gabby watched from her office as he exchanged a word with Dino, who was the senior on the workshop floor and didn’t suffer fools gladly. She waited for him to let Jon know in no uncertain terms that the working day had started two and a half hours ago.

      Dino said something. Jon replied. Dino laughed, the sound audible even over the whine of the table saw. She watched incredulously as he clapped Jon on the shoulder as though they’d been buddies for years. Dino was still chuckling as he crossed to the drill press.

      As though he sensed her watching, Jon glanced at her, a big, no-holds-barred grin still on his face.

      She blinked. He looked like a different man when he was smiling. Younger. A little dangerous.

      Their eyes met and his smile sobered as he gave her a small acknowledging nod. Her own face felt frozen, but she forced herself to nod in reply. Then she swung in her chair and made a big deal out of being busy with her computer.

      She told herself it was none of her business as she punched figures into the accounting software. If Dino was prepared to let the boss’s unreliable brother get away with murder, it was no skin off her nose.

      At lunchtime she walked around the corner and grabbed a sandwich. As she returned, she could see Jon through the window of the showroom. He was talking to a woman. Gabby frowned, taking in his body language: the way he was slouching oh, so casually against the counter; the almost-there smile on his face as he listened to something the woman was saying; the way his gaze traveled over her body in a slow, appreciative scan.

      If he were in a bar, Gabby wouldn’t hesitate for a second in assuming that he was hitting on the woman. But this was Tyler’s showroom, and the woman was a customer. Jon was probably simply being friendly.

      Gabby pushed the door open, stepping into the air-conditioned cool of the showroom.

      “The thing about good design is that it’s timeless. Ageless,” Jon said. “It only gets better.”

      The woman was in her early forties, blonde and wearing a tight black dress. She flipped her hair over her shoulder as Jon gave her a loaded smile.

      Gabby might not have had a date in a while, but she knew when a man was on the make—and he was definitely eyeing the blonde with carnal intent.

      In his brother’s showroom. At—she checked her watch—one thirty-five on a Tuesday afternoon.

      Nice. Really classy.

      Putting on her best professional smile, Gabby joined their cosy tête-á-tête.

      “Hi. Hope you don’t mind me interrupting. I’m Gabby.” She offered the other woman her hand.

      The blonde looked a little startled—no doubt she’d been so busy eating Jon up with her eyes she hadn’t noticed Gabby approach.

      “Hi. Fiona. Pleased to meet you.”

      Gabby turned to him, her smile still firmly in place. “Thanks, Jon. I’ll take over from here.”

      For a moment she saw a flash of something in his eyes—annoyance? Defiance?—then he straightened and gave Fiona a rueful shrug.

      “Back to the grindstone.”

      Fiona laughed and flipped her hair again. “I’ll keep in mind what you said.”

      “You do that.”

      Without looking at Gabby, he left the showroom.

      “So, how can I help you …?” Gabby asked the other woman brightly.

      Ten minutes later, Fiona was on her way with a handful of brochures and some preliminary pricing for the dining-room suite she was looking for. Gabby took a moment to gather her thoughts before heading to her office. Everything in her wanted to hunt Jon down and read him the riot act for behaving so unprofessionally. But he was Tyler’s brother, and it was Tyler’s business. If anyone was going to deal with Jon, it should be Tyler.

      She entered the workshop, veering to the kitchen before hitting her office. She was rinsing a mug when she heard the heavy tread of someone entering. Her spine stiffened. Somehow she knew that it was Jon, but she refused to look to confirm it.

      “She was into it, if that’s what you’re worried about,” a deep voice said.

      She turned to face him. “Excuse me?”

      “Fiona.

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