“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? You were supposed to be home an hour ago.”
With a large, flat box tucked under one arm and his other wrapped securely around a green plastic container holding a small, wilting Douglas fir tree, Austin maneuvered his way through the front door of the old Victorian home he and his older brother, Jordan, had inherited when their parents died fourteen years ago. For the past eight years he’d occupied the house by himself, ever since Jordan had moved to Los Angeles to pursue his architectural career. Eight years of coming and going as he pleased, without worrying about accounting for his whereabouts.
Some habits, especially Jordan’s protective instincts toward his little brother, died hard. Jordan had always been the dependable, levelheaded one of them, but then he’d had the responsibility of raising a sixteen-year-old hellion thrust upon him when he, himself, should have been tasting freedom at the tender young age of eighteen. A huge obligation like that tended to make a man out of a child fairly quickly, and Jordan had taken the role of guardianship very seriously. Too seriously, Austin thought, refraining from the urge to remind his brother that he was a big boy and had proven that he could take care of himself.
Pushing the door closed with his shoulder Austin shoved the potted fir into his brother’s hands, giving him no choice but to take the plant.
“Well?” Jordan persisted, following Austin into the adjoining living room where he put the Douglas fir on the corner of the brick hearth. “Where have you been?”
“You haven’t even been home a week and already you’re starting to sound like a wife, big brother.” Setting the package on the settee that had once belonged to his great-grandmother, Austin cast an amused glance Jordan’s way. “A wife is the last thing I need in my hectic life.”
Jordan shoved his fingers through his thick, dark brown hair and grimaced. “Sorry,” he said, releasing a deep, frustrated sigh. “It’s been a long, boring day. And you did say you’d be home at four, and it’s after five.”
Austin’s gaze touched on the fifty-year-old grandfather clock in the corner of the room and noted the time. “Hmm, so it is.”
Despite his brother’s annoying habit of keeping tabs on him, Austin experienced a bit of sympathy for Jordan. After giving an L.A. architectural firm eight years of loyalty, and being promised a partnership in the firm, he’d been bypassed when they’d promoted a relative instead. Jordan had been used and lied to, and if there was anything he abhorred, it was dishonesty. Two weeks ago he’d quit the firm, packed up his belongings and moved back to San Francisco to reevaluate his life.
In Austin’s estimation, Jordan had too much idle time on his hands. And until his brother decided which direction he wanted to take with his career, Austin pretty much resigned himself, and his life, to his brother’s scrutiny.
Jordan was still waiting for an answer. Austin liked making him suffer-goading his brother had always been a favorite pastime, one he’d missed over the past eight years. Shrugging out of his sports jacket, he draped it over the back of the settee. Then he went to work loosening his restricting tie.
“I’m late because I had an afternoon appointment with a client that ran longer than I’d expected,” he told Jordan as he pulled the tie from around his neck and added it to the jacket. “But I got myself a signed contract for a landscaping project I bid on a few weeks ago for a new restaurant. The job came in at a little less than fifty grand.”
“That’s great.” Jordan’s hazel eyes brightened with pride and genuine excitement for Austin’s success. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” Austin was still feeling the elation of having outbid the other landscaping companies. This one project, coupled with half a dozen other smaller projects he’d been awarded recently, would keep a steady paycheck coming in. “And after that, I picked up the Christmas present I was supposed to get last night.”
Jordan flicked his finger at the big, fat red bow topping the package wrapped in bright holly paper. “Ah, and who might this be for?”
Austin watched Jordan pick up the box, and knew from experience what was coming next. “It’s for you, and don’t shake it-”
The order came too late. For all Jordan’s seriousness, he had an insatiable curiosity, which included trying to guess what his gifts were. The contents of the box rattled as he gave it a brisk jostling, and his eyes lit up like a little kid’s.
Austin’s stomach pitched as he imagined the delicate, expensive pieces belonging to the specially ordered model of the Bay Bridge breaking into minuscule segments. “Dammit, Jordan,” he growled as he grabbed the box and rescued the collector’s edition from Jordan’s abuse. “I’m serious. It’s very fragile.”
A grin quirked Jordan’s mouth. “What did you do, get me a set of wineglasses?”
“Very funny.” Austin put the gift next to the potted fir.
Jordan came up beside him and cast a hand at the withering tree. “And please don’t tell me you’re going to try and pass this off as a Christmas tree. It’s pathetic, Austin.”
“That’s why I chose it.” Austin smiled and shrugged. “It needed a home, and we couldn’t celebrate our first Christmas together in years without a tree.”
“So you picked the scrawniest one you could find?”
“I didn’t think we’d need anything big and elaborate, considering it’s just the two of us.”
Jordan shook his head at the sad state of the tree. “I hope it holds up for the next week.”
“A drink of water, a string of garland, and it’ll be fine.” Austin turned toward Jordan and cuffed him on the shoulder. “And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re home for the holidays.”
Jordan returned the sentiment with a smile. “Yeah, me, too.”
“So, any important calls today?” Austin asked as they headed into the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, he snagged a can of root beer for himself and popped the top.
“That depends on how you define ‘important.”’ Jordan’s tone turned rueful. “I overheard a message on your Fantasy for Hire line that was certainly interesting.”
Austin was used to customers leaving odd messages and requests on that line. When you were in the business of fulfilling fantasies, you got some doozies. Though Jordan was aware of the basic operation of the business, his mind was still boggled by the appeal of Fantasy for Hire, and the outrageous requests he’d been privy to the past week.
Jordan smirked. “You must have made quite an impression last night at your cowboy gig.”
The can of soda stopped midway to Austin’s lips, and he lifted an eyebrow at his brother. “What makes you say that?”
Jordan’s grin broadened. “The very personal message someone left on the Fantasy for Hire line for you.”
Interest piqued, Austin set his soda on the counter and headed into an adjoining room that had once been a dining room. Now, it was a no-frills, makeshift office for Fantasy for Hire, consisting of an old, scarred mahogany desk and a battered metal file cabinet. The surface of the desk was cluttered with order forms, and a large appointment book opened to the month of December. Judging by all the fantasies filling it, it certainly was the month for giving.
The phone, with an answering machine and fax attached, sat on one corner of the desk. A digital display indicated he had eight messages waiting for him. He sighed. So much for relaxing after a long day at McBride Landscaping-it looked as if he’d be spending the next hour or so returning calls and scheduling his guys.
He rewound the tape, wondering who’d left the message Jordan seemed so amused with. The only thing he could think of was that the women who’d hired him for Teddy’s cowboy fantasy had been disappointed with his act. According to the description he’d given them when they’d placed the order, they’d been expecting a blond-haired, blue-eyed cowboy. If they’d been dissatisfied with him or his performance, he’d refund their money.
“Oh, by the way,” Jordan added as he stepped into the office behind Austin. “You’ve got a seven o’clock appointment tonight.”
Austin jerked his gaze to Jordan, certain his brother was joking. Seeing that he wore his serious, older-brother expression, Austin’s hopes for a peaceful evening dwindled even more. “I told you last night I wouldn’t be performing anymore, not unless I absolutely have to.”
“You performed last night,” Jordan pointed out.
“That was due to circumstances beyond my control. I had no choice.”
“You don’t have much choice for tonight, either.” Jordan displayed no sympathy for Austin’s plight. “You were specifically requested.”
