The Cutting Edge

His frown pulled even tighter as he bent down and examined the bruise as thoroughly as he would check the books. “Painful,” he finally pronounced. “Do you need to go home?”

Tessa concealed her startled laughter. “No, I’m able to work,” she assured him demurely. Perry was a fussbudget, but he was kindhearted enough, and she liked him, for all his fussy ways.

“Did you go to the infirmary?”

“No. Mr. Rutland took me up to his office and put this compress on it—”

“Brett Rutland?” Perry asked sharply.

“Yes, he was in the elevator—”

His high, white forehead began to glisten with sweat. “Did he ask you anything about the department? Did he say anything about going over the books?”

Anxiety was evident in his face and his raised voice. Soothingly, Tessa said, “Not a word. He simply got the ice from his bar and wrapped it in the towel.”

“Are you certain? He never does anything without a reason. He can be subtle, when it suits him. I’m sure he’s going to go over everything; but he’ll ask around first, and try to find out if we’re slack or careless in any way.”

“You don’t have anything to worry about; the department is in good shape, and you’re a very competent manager.”

“You never know,” he said, wringing his hands. “You never know.”

He was determined to think the worst, and with a sigh Tessa gave up the effort of cheering him; he was probably happier looking for a dark lining in a silver cloud anyway. Some people simply had a melancholy outlook, and Perry was one of them.

Billie popped in during the mid-afternoon break to check on Tessa. The other woman was full of curiosity about Brett Rutland, her big brown eyes even rounder than usual as she stared at Tessa and shot questions at her faster than they could be answered. “What did he say? How long did he keep you? Were you scared? My gosh, of all the people who could have been in that elevator! Did he say why he’s here?”

Tessa picked out one question and ignored the others. “Why should I have been scared? I didn’t know who he was.”

Billie gaped. “You didn’t know Brett Rutland?”

“I knew the name, but I’d never seen him, so how could I have known him?”

Looking impatient with such logic, Billie still tried to pry more information out of Tessa, who could be infuriatingly hard to pin down when she wanted to be. “What did you say? What did he say?”

“Among other things, he told me to sit down while he got a towel,” Tessa murmured. She wasn’t going to tell Billie that he’d asked her out to dinner; just the thought of going out with him affected her nerves, jarring her out of her usual lazy contentment and making her feel jittery, and both afraid and excited at the same time. She was still tingling from the sizzling electricity of his masculinity.

Aunt Silver would adore him.

Just the thought of her aunt made Tessa smile, because Silver was the warmest, liveliest, most lovable woman in existence, and if there was anything Silver appreciated, it was an exciting man. “Sugar,” Silver had told her more than once, “if I ever stop man watching, you’ll know to bury me, because that’s a sure sign that I’m dead.” Since Silver was prospering with her small, exclusive doll shop in Gatlinburg, Tessa was certain that her aunt was still happily man watching, too.

“You’re smiling,” Billie accused. “Teresa Conway! Don’t you dare try flirting with that man! I know that look in your eyes; have you been batting your eyelashes at him?”

“With my face looking as if I’d just gone ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer?” Tessa asked in a mild voice.

“Would you let a little thing like that stop you?”

“I promise, I haven’t been flirting with Mr. Rutland.” Her eyes twinkled; evidently Mr. Rutland didn’t wait for a woman to flirt with him before he made his move. “I hope not! He’s been known to tear strips of flesh off people who have looked at him wrong.”

Several things about Brett Rutland alarmed Tessa, but not the fear that he’d tear strips of flesh off her. No, what he’d do to her flesh wouldn’t be painful at all, and that inner certainty was probably the most alarming thing she felt about him. Whenever a woman looked at a man and knew, instinctively and without doubt, that he would be able to give her exquisite pleasure, her defenses against that man were dangerously weakened. Tessa didn’t want her defenses to be weakened; she’d been hurt badly, not once but twice. Later, after time had completely healed all her emotional wounds, she wanted to try love again. But not now, she thought despairingly. I’m not ready now.

She managed to assure Billie that she hadn’t done anything shocking that could cost her her job. Billie was an uneasy mixture of laid-back California casualness and a surprising streak of prudery that was frequently shocked by Tessa’s flirtatiousness. Because she was also a loyal friend, Tessa looked out for Billie in subtle ways that no one had ever realized, though many thought that Billie had guided Tessa through the mazes and pitfalls of life in Southern California, where the normal flow of traffic was practically a death sentence for a young woman used to using a much more leisurely pace in getting from one place to another. Since Tessa had become Billie’s friend, Billie’s clothes had become simpler, more classic in style, and more suited to her short, rather rounded figure. Billie’s hairstyle now flattered her face, her makeup accentuated her large brown eyes and camouflaged her rather sallow complexion. Before, Billie’s taste in jewelry had run to heavy, clunky pieces in neon colors that had tended to make her look like a midget in the circus. Now she wore smaller pieces, well coordinated with her clothing. Billie’s social life had picked up considerably in the last year, but she never wondered why. Tessa knew why, and the knowledge filled her with quiet satisfaction. She’d been lucky; she’d had Aunt Silver to guide her in her confusing teenage days, to teach her how to dress and use makeup; not many girls were so lucky. Spreading around a little of Aunt Silver’s knowledge was the least she could do.

She’d have to remember to write to Aunt Silver about Brett Rutland; her aunt would definitely enjoy hearing about a man with navy blue eyes and a mouth that made a woman go a little crazy.

* * *

BRETT LEANED BACK in his chair, his eyes narrowed as he flipped through the scanty information in Tessa’s personnel file. There wasn’t a lot in there: She’d never been arrested, never been married and had no identifying scars or birthmarks. Her supervisor, Perry Smitherman, had given her a good evaluation, but Brett thought cynically that any normal man would find it difficult to say anything unfavorable about Tessa, even an old-maid type like Perry Smitherman.

He tossed the file onto his desk; its contents were useless. He’d find out more about her tonight.

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_42a47ec4-3c1b-5142-9a3c-f064f76778e0)

TESSA LEANED CLOSER to the mirror and examined her discolored, swollen cheekbone, then frowned. Her normal makeup hadn’t covered the bruise as well as she’d hoped; she carefully applied a concealer, and blended it until she was satisfied that the bruise was hardly noticeable.

She’d gotten caught in the snarled traffic, and as a result had only arrived home a mere half an hour before, but the situation was well in hand. She’d plugged in her hot rollers, then stripped and taken a fast shower and washed her hair. By the time she’d blown her hair dry, the rollers were hot, and she’d set a few of them in her hair for lift and control. Makeup had taken an additional ten minutes. Now she took the rollers from her hair and deftly brushed it into a casually sophisticated style that swirled about her shoulders. A glance at the clock told her that she had twelve minutes left, ample time to get dressed.

Tessa disliked hurrying, but she seldom had to hurry, because she had everything organized. Organization was insurance against haste. She knew where everything was, and had her routine well planned; if circumstances conspired against her and she was thrown off schedule, she would hurry, if work were involved, but she never hurried for personal reasons. Oddly, she was almost never late, as if the little gremlins who disrupted schedules realized that they wouldn’t get any satisfaction from watching her dash around madly, so they seldom bothered with her. At least, that was the explanation she’d worked out in her mind, and it suited her as well as any other.

She sprayed herself lightly with her favorite perfume, then put on her underwear, her hosiery and her dress. The dress was cream-colored silk, with a slim skirt and a wrap bodice, and long sleeves to keep her arms warm in the April night. She slipped pearl studs into her ears, then fastened a single long strand of creamy pearls around her neck. Pale beige sling-backs lifted her a few inches higher, giving her a willowy, swaying grace. Just as she picked up her matching beige evening purse, the doorbell rang, and she nodded in satisfaction. “Right on time,” she told herself in congratulation, and she meant herself, not him.

She opened the door to him, and as soon as she met his dark blue eyes she felt a sudden rushing warmth inside. Darn, but the man packed a wallop! All he had to do was smile and a woman was reeling on the ropes. But none of what she felt was in her lazy smile as she invited him inside. “Would you like a drink before we go?”

“No, thanks.” He looked around her small, cozy apartment, full of comfortable furniture and warm lighting, with her many unrelated collections filling every nook and corner. “Nice. It looks homey.”

With some people, “homey” would have been a polite way of saying “cluttered,” but somehow Tessa felt that he meant it. Andrew would have turned up his nose at the comfortable but definitely unfashionable decor, but then Andrew was very much concerned with keeping up his image. She sighed; she’d promised herself several times that she’d never think of Andrew again, but somehow he sneaked back into her mind at odd times. Why should she think of him now, when she was going out with a man who put Andrew completely in the shade? Perhaps her subconscious was dredging up Andrew’s memory in an effort to put her on her guard and protect her against a man who was so much more dangerous than Andrew had ever been.

His car was a rental, but a luxury model for all that. She’d heard it said that Brett Rutland was Mr. Carter’s fair-haired boy, and perhaps he was. After helping her into the car, he walked around to the driver’s side and folded his long length behind the wheel. When she considered his height, she realized that he had to have a large car; a man with legs that long would never be comfortable in a sports model.

“I made reservations for seven o’clock,” he said, and she caught a glint of amusement in his normally controlled expression. “You should be home by ten-thirty; can you stay awake that long?”

“I might,” she drawled, not giving him an inch.

A tiny smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“I’ll try to make sure you stay awake,” he said in a voice that almost purred with sensuality.

Oh, she’d just bet he would! Probably the only time any woman had gone to sleep on him was in his arms, after the loving was finished.

“What part of the South are you from?” he asked casually, as if he hadn’t read her file.

“I was born in Mobile, Alabama. But when I was thirteen my mother and I moved to Tennessee to live with her sister.” Those were the bare facts; they didn’t tell of her mother’s long battle with ill health, the poverty they’d endured, the times when there simply hadn’t been anything to eat because her mother hadn’t been able to work. Finally her mother had given up and swallowed her stubborn pride and asked her sister to drive down from Tennessee to get them, and even then she’d asked for Tessa’s sake, not her own. It was just that her mother’s entire family had been against Tessa’s father, and they’d been proved right, for he’d walked out on his family when Tessa was too young even to remember him. Tessa’s mother had lived barely a year after the move, and after that there’d been only Tessa and Silver in the old farmhouse just outside of Sevierville.

“What made you move out here?”

“I wanted to see something of the country,” Tessa replied easily. She wasn’t about to tell him about Andrew. She’d hated the idea of leaving, but Aunt Silver had talked her into it. She wasn’t running, Aunt Silver had said; she was turning her back on a bad situation and walking away from it. Well, Andrew thought she’d run, but eventually Tessa had come to realize that what Andrew thought didn’t matter worth a hoot. If only Andrew hadn’t been a hot, rising young executive at the company where Tessa had worked!

“Do you like it?”

“Well enough. What about you? You have a bit of a drawl yourself, but I can’t place it.”