Chapter 2

BRANDON COULDN’T believe his grandmother had interfered… again.

“I didn’t get you the job.” She patted his cheek. “I only got you the address for where to send your résumé and stuff.” She handed him the paper with the email address. “Grace Stepford said her son is coming back to town and will need to get an assistant. He’s a bigwig from New York and really busy.”

“I don’t need to take an assistant job,” he protested.

“You need to work, and he has plenty of contacts. So, if he likes you, that will be a boost up.”

She had a point. He’d been looking for work for months, even before he graduated with his MBA, and he’d found nothing.

“I know.” He hated to admit that she was right. Brandon sighed. “I’ll go send it right now.” He went into his room and opened his laptop. It didn’t take him long to compose a nice email and attach his résumé. He was getting very good at this sort of thing.

“Bran,” his grandma called right after he sent the message. “I have lunch ready.”

He bounded out and sat at the table. His grandma was doing okay, but sometimes she needed some help. After graduating from Colorado State, he hadn’t intended to return to Colorado Springs, but with the job situation the way it was right now, especially for new graduates, he didn’t have a choice. “Which Stepford did I just apply to assist, exactly?” He probably should have asked before he sent the résumé.

“Thomas Stepford. Do you remember him? I think you used to mow his lawn before he left town and made it big.” She set a plate with a sandwich on it in front of him and took the chair next to him at the old Formica-topped table. Nothing ever changed for his grandma. This table had been in this kitchen for as long as Brandon could remember. “He was always a very nice young man. Intense, though.”

“I remember,” Brandon said.

Boy, did he ever remember Thomas Stepford. Mr. Stepford, as he’d referred to him then, had started some sort of business and was really busy. Brandon had seen that he was home and screwed up his courage to go over and see if he wanted his lawn mowed. The grass was getting tall, and Brandon figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask. He’d rung the bell and the door opened. Mr. Stepford was in just a pair of workout jeans, and Brandon remembered doing his best not to stare at the hotness in front of him.

Somehow he managed to get his little speech out and ask for the job. Mr. Stepford had smiled, which only made him hotter, and said he’d pay him twenty bucks a time to mow and edge the yard. He also said he’d pay him fifteen bucks an hour if he’d weed the front beds and trim the bushes. That was good money—like, really good money—and Brandon had quickly agreed and gotten to work once Mr. Stepford closed the door, cutting off the view that made Brandon salivate and provided late-night fantasy material for the rest of his teenage years.

Every time Brandon went to be paid, he hoped there would be a repeat of the view he’d gotten that first day, but no such luck. Well, once he’d walked over and found Mr. Stepford in the backyard, lying in a lawn chair, reading some papers. He was in a pair of shorts and a tank top that showed off his arms. But that was as close as he ever got to the view of heaven he’d received that first day.

“Brandon. Are you there?” his grandma teased, her voice pulling him out of his woolgathering.

“Yeah, sure.” He took a bite of his sandwich. “I thought I’d take care of the yard this afternoon and do some cleaning up in the front.” His grandma couldn’t do that sort of thing anymore, and it needed to be done. Of course he’d help. She had been kind enough to let him stay with her so he wouldn’t have to live with his mother and that jerk she’d married after the divorce. God, his mother had complained about his dad endlessly, but then married a jerk of epic proportions.

“I appreciate it.” She patted his hand with her wrinkled one.

His grandparents had always been so easy to love. Their home had been a place of stability when his mom and dad were fighting, which they had done a lot, mostly about money. Which was totally ironic. Mom always thought that his dad was cheap. So in the end, she left him and married a man who pinched his pennies so hard, he could make Abe Lincoln scream.

“It’s no problem.” He finished his sandwich, took what was left of his iced tea out to the garage with him, and started the lawn mower.

He got the front and back yards mowed and began working on the front beds. They were pretty infested, but he got the weeds under control and trimmed the shrubs. After a good three hours’ work, the front of the house looked much better. Brandon decided he’d buy some flowers to plant the next time he went out. Grandma loved flowers and they would make her happy.

Done for the day, he put everything away and went inside to clean up. He checked his email, and to his complete shock, found a response sent just half an hour earlier.

Mr. Wilson,

Thank you for your résumé. I’m Mr. Stepford’s New York assistant, and we were impressed by your qualifications. Please call me at your earliest convenience so we can set up a time to speak with you.

Marjorie Westfield

She’d included a phone number, and Brandon debated whether he should call right away He didn’t want to seem desperate, but he needed to get some sort of job so he could help out Grandma and stop sponging off her. He decided to take a shower, and once he was clean, he checked the time and made the call.

“Thomas Stepford’s office,” a cheerful but professional woman said as she answered the phone. “This is Marjorie.”

He cleared his throat. “I’m Brandon Wilson, and I received your email and….”

“Oh, excellent,” she said happily. “You are prompt. I like that. Your résumé was forwarded by HR because of your interest in being Mr. Stepford’s assistant and because you’re in Colorado Springs. Mr. Stepford is relocating there for the time being. He will need an assistant, and your résumé is quite impressive with your entrepreneurial efforts.”

“What sort of duties will there be?” Brandon asked.

“He’ll need you to run errands and work with me to maintain his calendar. I will keep his master calendar for him, but he’ll need someone there to make sure he has what he needs. You’ll be working directly with Mr. Stepford, but for me.”

“I see,” Brandon said.

“I doubt it.” She chuckled. “I’ve been Mr. Stepford’s assistant for ten years now, and he’s a very busy man. He’s hoping to be able to have more time with his parents, and to do that, he’ll need someone who can assist him there. I’ll take care of the corporate and business appointments, and you’ll handle mostly personal errands and helping to make sure he stays on schedule.”

She seemed nice enough from what he’d heard, and definitely businesslike. Which was very good. He could deal with professional people. “So I’ll be sort of the assistant to the assistant?”

“No. More like his second assistant. You’ll be working directly with him more than I will, but we’ll need to coordinate things so everything runs smoothly and he isn’t double-booked or run ragged.” She paused. “Mr. Stepford has worked hard for many years to get where he is. That has also meant that he works long hours at a very fast pace. I believe he’s hoping to be able to slow that pace when he’s there. He deserves it if anyone does. It will be his assistant’s job—our job, if things work out—to make sure that happens.”

“I can definitely do that.” Brandon smiled. “So what sort of questions do you have for me?”

They spent the next hour talking, and Brandon answered all the questions Marjorie fired at him. They spoke about his schooling, previous employment, and his hopes for the future. Then she asked where he saw himself in five years.

“Not as someone’s assistant,” Brandon answered, and realized that might be insulting to Marjorie, but she chuckled.

“Good answer. We all need to have bigger goals. You’re just out of college. I’m sure you didn’t get an MBA to be an assistant. If it were your life’s ambition, I’d wonder.” She seemed to have a great attitude, and Brandon thought he would like working with her, though he had to remind himself that he didn’t have the job yet.

“When does Mr. Stepford need someone to start?”

“He will arrive in Colorado Springs tomorrow and is going to be visiting with his parents. His calendar is free until the following Monday, but I’d like you to meet him and get started earlier… say, Thursday. I’ll get the paperwork started with HR, and they can have you fill out what they need. Then we can go from there.”

“Sounds awesome.” He grinned. It looked like Brandon had the job. It wasn’t anything like he’d dreamed of once he had his masters, but it would mean some money coming in and he’d meet some people and maybe make some connections.

“I have your email address, as well as your phone number.” Marjorie rattled it off. “Is that your cell?”

“Yes. You can reach me there anytime.” He kept his voice level as they said their goodbyes, but once they ended the call, he let out a soft whoop and then went in search of his grandma.

He found her by the stove, putting a big pot on the burner. “I got the job! That was Mr. Stepford’s assistant in New York, and she hired me to work with him here.” That was a load off his mind.

“That’s good.” She patted him lightly on the back.

“I can work for him and keep looking for the job I really want.” At least this would give him a chance to breathe, and he’d be working for Thomas Stepford, the hunk who still sometimes haunted his dreams. Of course, he’d have to be professional and couldn’t go around gawking at his boss.

“When do you start?” Grandma asked as she pulled out ingredients.

“Thursday. They’re going to send over all the papers I need to fill out.” He told her all about the rest of the interview.

“I’m glad it all worked out.” She continued stirring the pot on the stove. “I’m making sauce. They had good tomatoes at the market, and I want to get some made to put in the freezer. I can do this, so you might as well go out and have some fun. There’s no need for you to sit around here with an old lady.” She scooted him out of her kitchen with a smile.

Brandon went to his room. He could probably see if any of his friends were free, but instead he checked in online and ended up playing Warlords of Garu until it was time for dinner. After that, he helped Grandma with the dishes and cleaned up around the house until it was time to go to bed.

He lay quietly, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what Mr. Stepford looked like now. He closed his eyes, and the image he’d called up many times of Thomas in only his pants flashed in his mind’s eye. Brandon took a deep breath, wiping that image away. He would be working for Thomas, and that meant he needed to be professional at all times. Brandon was not going to be perving on his boss, because that was just too stereotypical for words. Not only that, but he had no idea if Mr. Stepford was gay and… heck, he was Mr. Stepford. He was, well, older than him.

Brandon released the breath he’d been holding. This was a job, and he would do it to the very best of his ability.

“BRANDON… IS it okay if I call you Brandon?” Marjorie asked when she called a few days later while he was outside working in Grandma’s yard.

“Of course,” he said brightly, wiping his forehead and no doubt smearing dirt all over his sweaty skin.

“Good. We got all your information. Once again, thank you for being prompt.” He heard a smile in her voice. “You have no idea how pleased I am to be working with you.”

“I’m glad to be working with you too. But I have one question. We never talked about my salary or what my work hours would be. There was nothing in the information sent about any of that. I was wondering….”

“Of course. Like I said, we got all your paperwork, but there’s one more step before I can hire you. Mr. Stepford is the one to make the final decision. I went ahead with the paperwork because I think he’s going to be very pleased with you. I called to set up a time so he can meet you.” Clicking sounded in the background. “I know this is unusual, but I needed to get things moving. Let me see. Mr. Stepford is at his parents’ for a few days until his rental is cleaned, and he has said he’ll be free this afternoon after two. I’ll email you the address. Can you be there at two thirty? Will that work?”

“Yes. I’ll be there then.” His phone vibrated, and a message popped up at the top of the screen. “I just got your email.”

“Wonderful. Once I have his approval, I’ll send you a company phone and iPad, along with access to his calendar and other files you’ll need.”

Brandon cleared his throat. “Will he want me to drive him places?”

“I doubt it. He has said he’ll drive himself. But you do have a car to run errands and things, right? Keep track of miles, and we will reimburse you for mileage.” She sounded a little scattered, and Brandon wondered at it, but he didn’t know her well enough to understand why. “Once you’ve met with him, I’ll go over all other details.”

“No problem.” Brandon smiled.

Marjorie said she’d speak to him after he met with Mr. Stepford, then ended the call.

Brandon hurried to the bathroom and started the shower. He jumped in to clean up and then dressed in nice clothes. He wasn’t sure how he should look when interviewing for an assistant’s job. He thought business casual was probably good. A suit was most likely overboard.

Still, he put on a nice pair of slacks, a light blue short-sleeve, button-down shirt, and nice shoes that weren’t sneakers, and made sure his hair looked good. And he’d shaved again, so there was no scruff. He left his room, following the scent of cookies to the kitchen. A plate covered in plastic wrap rested on the edge of the counter.

“What are those for?”

“Take them with you. Grace has a real sweet tooth, and she’s had a hard time of it lately.” Grandma handed him the plate, and Brandon took it, wondering how it was going to look for him to be taking some of her cookies to a job interview. Still, he kissed her on the cheek, left the house, and drove to the address Marjorie had emailed to him.

Brandon parked on the street in front of the house and walked up to the door, carrying the cookies his grandma had sent. He knocked softly, then stepped back and waited. Dogs barked inside the house, and he instantly tensed. Brandon was allergic to all animals, especially dogs and cats, and he could already feel his nose begin to tingle in anticipation. If he’d known, he’d have taken some of his allergy medication.

The door opened and the yapping grew louder as two Lhasa apsos jumped at the bottom of the screen door. Brandon lifted his gaze to where Thomas Stepford stood in the doorway. “I’m Brandon Wilson. Marjorie asked me to come by and talk with you about being your assistant here in town.”

“Yes,” Thomas said gruffly and, after telling the dogs to get back, pushed the door open. “She told me she had arranged for someone to come over.”

Brandon stepped inside and his eyes watered. He blinked to try to keep his reaction at bay, but it didn’t do very much. The house had been closed up because of the air-conditioning, and the dog dander had had a chance to really build up. All Brandon could hope for was that he wasn’t inside too long and could get out before his reaction became too severe and he was reduced to a sneezing mess.

Mr. Stepford closed the door. “What’s this?” he asked, looking at the plate Brandon was carrying.

“My grandmother sent these over for your mom.” He was about to hand the plate to Mr. Stepford when he sneezed loudly.

The dogs yipped and the plate went flying out of his hands. Brandon groaned as the plastic wrap gave way and cookies flew in every direction. The plate shattered on the floor, and bits of cookie ended up everywhere.

What a way to make a first impression.

Brandon wanted to crawl under the sofa and hide, but that would only send his allergies into overdrive.

“Buddy, Clementine, go in the other room.” They ignored him, and Mr. Stepford scooped both dogs into his arms and went out back to let them outside.

Brandon sneezed again and wondered how he could clean up the mess he’d made.

“Look, I’m sorry.” He could feel the job he’d thought he had slipping out of his grasp. “Let me help clean this up.” He sneezed again, the sound echoing through the house.

“It’s all right. Give me a minute.” Mr. Stepford got a trash can and threw everything, including the pieces of the plate, in it. Then he got out the vacuum, which only seemed to add more dust to the air. Brandon left the room and sat at the kitchen table until Mr. Stepford was done. “Okay. I’m going to guess that you’re allergic.”

Brandon nodded. He turned to where two small doggie faces peered in the sliding glass doors. “Sorry. I didn’t know or I’d have taken some medication.” The stuff made him sleepy as hell and dried him out to the point that he felt like a desert, but it got him through when he needed it.

“How about we go outside?” Mr. Stepford said.

Brandon couldn’t get out of the house fast enough.

Mr. Stepford let the dogs back in, and they left the house. Brandon took as deep a breath as he could, sneezing a few more times as his eyes began to clear. He knew it would take a while for the rest of his symptoms to dissipate.

“Marjorie said you would be over.”

“She told me that you wanted to meet me and that you’d go over the kinds of things you thought I’d be doing for you.” Thankfully they stopped on the sidewalk out in front of the house. This was a strange place to conduct an interview, but Brandon was grateful he could breathe once again. “I graduated with an MBA a few months ago. I’m a hard worker, and I know I can do whatever you need me to do.”

Brandon took a good look at Mr. Stepford and had to admit he was even more attractive now. The years had been generous to him. There was the slightest hint of gray at the temples of his otherwise jet-black hair, and his eyes were as piercing as they had been. He was broader and seemed stronger, more solid, and definitely as hot as the Mr. Stepford he remembered.

“An MBA, that’s very good,” Mr. Stepford said. “But if you have that kind of degree, why do you want to be my assistant?” His deep brown eyes stared intensely at Brandon, who forced his mind to stay on track.

“Well… shoot…,” he demurred, then figured honesty was best. “I need a job. I got my degree and I did very well in school. Marjorie has all the details and that. Right now, I’m living with my grandmother, and I can’t keep sponging off her. She and your mom are friends, and I got the word that you needed some help, so I applied.”

“I see,” Mr. Stepford said skeptically.

Brandon knew he only had once chance to try to salvage this entire situation. “I had one job all through high school, and then when I left, I spent all four years of undergrad waiting tables. I work hard and I don’t change jobs on a whim. Learning the business world from the ground up is important, regardless of the title. If you want someone who will do their best to be a good assistant, then that’s me.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot, meeting Mr. Stepford’s gaze with his own until he was wracked by a sneeze and wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere. “Thank you for meeting with me.” Not extending his hand because he had just sneezed all over it, he went back to his car, knowing he’d blown that interview so sky-high, it was pathetic.