At Your Service, Jack by Brenda Hammond

Author:Brenda Hammond
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

11

JACK APPEARED in the kitchen the next morning after breakfast.

“I need to give you your instructions for the day.”

“You’re leaving now for the office?” Dishcloth in hand, Freddi turned toward him.

“In a few minutes.”

Already in the habit of checking his appearance, she cocked her head to one side. Lips pursed, she looked him up and down.

An eyebrow quirked. “Do I meet with your approval?”

Did he ever. But it was her job to point out any lapses. She bit her lip and twisted the dishcloth. “Not quite.”

Was that a glimpse of hurt she saw in his expression?

“It’s the shoes.” She blurted out the words, hating him to think she thought him lacking.

He looked down at his feet. “What’s wrong with these? They’re expensive, Italian and genu-wine leather.”

“But they’re dull.”

“How far can you go with shoes?” He lifted one foot, regarded it and put it down again. Then he looked quizzically at Freddi. “Unless you want me to buy multicolor.”

“What an awful thought.” She twisted the dishcloth between her fingers. “No, I mean, there’s no shine. They’re in need of a polish…I’ll do that for you.”

“I don’t have time.”

“It’ll only take a minute or two, and if you want to look well groomed, your shoes should be impeccable.” She threw the dishcloth at the sink and took a step toward him.

“I’m not going to take off my shoes!” He said it as if she’d asked him to strip for her.

Startled by his reaction, she took another deliberate step toward him and narrowed her eyes. “Why not?”

“Because…because I’ll be late.”

She helped him out. “And the boss will notice?”

“Yeah.”

“I think…there’s another reason.” Standing in front of him now, she suddenly dropped to a crouch and grabbed his left foot. She seized the heel and tried to tug off the shoe.

He hopped away. “No, no, no!” His protest sounded melodramatic.

Freddi began to giggle.

This was like holding on to a lively grasshopper. Just about impossible. Laughing, she gave up, and fell backward. Jack squirmed away, and, grabbing on to the handle of the fridge, just managed to save himself from landing on his duff.

Hands on hips, he looked down at her. “Is this Elliott, the dignified butler?”

“No. It’s her alter ego, Fred.”

With laughing eyes, he bent down to help her up. “Ah, Freddikins. Pleased to meet you.”

“No, Jack, never say that.”

His smile faded and he sent her an inquiring glance.

“It’s always ‘How do you do,”’ she explained.

He stuck his tongue in his cheek. “Yeah, maybe that’s better. Pertinent in these circumstances.”

She wasn’t sure that he meant what she thought he meant. She swallowed. Time to get on with her duties.

“Look, no need to take your shoes off, although I can’t imagine what you’ve got to hide. A hammer toe maybe? An ingrown toenail? Or maybe an extreme case of the dreaded lurgs.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know…athlete’s foot?”

“No.”

“Aha!” She grinned. “I know. A hole in your sock.”

That was almost a pout she saw. Biting her lip to stop her smile, she grabbed the rung of the chair by the built-in desk and swung it around.

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