Alison Kelly - Man About The House

Joanna Ford had the bluest eyes he’d ever seen! Joanna Ford had the bluest eyes he’d ever seen! That was Brett’s first thought as he was introduced to her. “Hi, Joanna, it’s nice to meet you.” The hand she extended to him was tentative, but the touch of her palm in his packed a real wallop. “I...hope my being here isn’t going to be an inconvenience.” “Absolutely not,” Brett replied. If he’d been caught off guard by the contrast between her angelic features and sinful curves, it was nothing compared to the impact her sudden smile had on him. He was honest enough to admit to himself that, had Joanna been a few years older, his vow to avoid women would have been postponed.... Author’s note—For Female Readers Only! Author’s note—For Female Readers Only! When my editor first asked me if I’d like to write a book entirely from the hero’s viewpoint, I jumped at the chance. First, because of the challenge it presented. We all know guys don’t think like us—although, let’s be honest, the world would be a smarter place if they did! The second reason was...revenge. Now, as a married woman, the mother of two sons and a romance author, I’m anything but anti-men. In fact, despite all the undue stress they cause us women with their quirky little habits, they are by and large an endearing species. My great fear, however, has always been that we don’t really cause them nearly as many problems as they cause us. They constantly ridicule us for our women’s intuition; but really, what can we do when they are so reticent about revealing their true thoughts or feelings to us? They can, on rare occasions, be perceptive themselves—as was proven when my husband’s best mate, Mark, informed me that my husband-to-be was crazy about me...long before he came to that realization himself! I confess I had a lot of fun “thinking” like a man for this story, and I hope you’ll get a few smiles reading it, too.... Oh, and incidentally, this book is dedicated to my fourteen-year-old son, Jordan, whose quick thinking and instincts for protecting the female sex saved not only two chapters of this book but also his little sister’s life when she inadvertently switched off the computer! Ah, men...you gotta love ’em! Title Page Man about the House Alison Kelly www.millsandboon.co.uk PROLOGUE CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN EPILOGUE Copyright

Joanna Ford had the bluest eyes he’d ever seen!

That was Brett’s first thought as he was introduced to her.

“Hi, Joanna, it’s nice to meet you.”

The hand she extended to him was tentative, but the touch of her palm in his packed a real wallop. “I...hope my being here isn’t going to be an inconvenience.”

“Absolutely not,” Brett replied. If he’d been caught off guard by the contrast between her angelic features and sinful curves, it was nothing compared to the impact her sudden smile had on him.

He was honest enough to admit to himself that, had Joanna been a few years older, his vow to avoid women would have been postponed....

Author’s note—For Female Readers Only!

When my editor first asked me if I’d like to write a book entirely from the hero’s viewpoint, I jumped at the chance. First, because of the challenge it presented. We all know guys don’t think like us—although, let’s be honest, the world would be a smarter place if they did!

The second reason was...revenge. Now, as a married woman, the mother of two sons and a romance author, I’m anything but anti-men. In fact, despite all the undue stress they cause us women with their quirky little habits, they are by and large an endearing species.

My great fear, however, has always been that we don’t really cause them nearly as many problems as they cause us. They constantly ridicule us for our women’s intuition; but really, what can we do when they are so reticent about revealing their true thoughts or feelings to us?

They can, on rare occasions, be perceptive themselves—as was proven when my husband’s best mate, Mark, informed me that my husband-to-be was crazy about me...long before he came to that realization himself!

I confess I had a lot of fun “thinking” like a man for this story, and I hope you’ll get a few smiles reading it, too....

Oh, and incidentally, this book is dedicated to my fourteen-year-old son, Jordan, whose quick thinking and instincts for protecting the female sex saved not only two chapters of this book but also his little sister’s life when she inadvertently switched off the computer! Ah, men...you gotta love ’em!

Man about the House

Alison Kelly

www.millsandboon.co.uk

PROLOGUE

THE customs officer who’d welcomed the previous passenger into the country with minimum fuss, despite grubby jeans, a bare chest and tatty leather waistcoat, was becoming more and more pedantic in his inspections of Brett’s Louis Vuitton luggage. And on the tail-end of a delay plagued flight from LAX Brett was becoming more and more anxious to get it over with.

‘Fair go, mate,’ be said irritably. ‘Do I look like a sleazebag drug courier?’

‘I couldn’t say, sir,’ the man informed him, his face expressionless as he flicked his eyes over Brett’s crumpled designer sports coat. ‘But the sniffer dogs didn’t seem to think so.’

Despite himself, Brett grinned at the subtle, ironic humour of the man’s response. He’d missed the Australian trait of blending dry, cheeky wit with a perfectly straight face during the four years he’d been in the ‘let’s-do-lunch’ capital of the world. The small, unexpected dose of it now reminded him he’d re-entered the pretention-free zone of home.

After the hectic pace of his LA existence as producer of a cable TV lifestyle show, in a business climate that worshipped over-achievers and workaholics, Brett was more than ready to embrace the more laid-back attitude of his home country. For all that the television and film industries in Australia operated on only a fraction of the budgets available to their North American counterparts, the commitment of those involved seemed more, not less, professional. There was no way the star of an Aussie television series would arrogantly not turn up for work until his salary was doubled, because there was no way network executives would cop for that kind of prima donna behaviour.

Okay, so coming home meant he was going to be earning less, but conversely he’d be less stressed and in a better position to re-evaluate the current state of his life and what was important to him. Thirty-four seemed like a good age to do this, especially since he’d wasted the last three years of his personal life on a live-in relationship with a former-model-wannabe-TV-presenter who’d cared more about what he could do for her career than she had for him.

He groaned mentally when the image of Toni Tanner popped into his head, vowing that in the wake of the pouty, manipulative, china-smashing shrew he’d stupidly imagined himself in love with the only women he wanted in his immediate future were his twin sister, Meaghan, her daughter, Karessa, and his mother.

When the customs clerk finally cleared his luggage, it was with an easy smile and an uncomplicated, ‘Welcome home, mate.’

Maybe it was the accent, but somehow those words sounded a hell of a lot more sincere than all those routine have a nice day’s he’d been on the receiving end of for the last four years. More than once he’d been tempted to snap back with, Don’t tell me what kind of day to have! if only for the sake of seeing if that would generate an honest, impulsive response. Though to be fair, he reasoned, steering his luggage trolley towards the exit, that particular habit hadn’t started grating on him until Toni had, and—

‘Brett! Hoy, Brett! Over here!’

Turning his head, he immediately spotted the grinning, arm-waving antics of his sister and his fourteen-year-old niece.

CHAPTER ONE

THEY crossed the car park with Karessa chattering nineteen to the dozen, as if it was imperative Brett be brought up to speed with everything that had happened in her life since his visit six months ago at Christmas. One of his fears when he’d made the decision to move overseas was that the easy relationship he’d shared with his niece would become stilted by distance or just the inevitable changes of her moving from childhood to young adulthood. It was a relief to know it hadn’t happened, that Karessa could still be as open and spontaneous with him as she’d been at two, eight and ten.

From the day she was born, in the absence of a father or grandfather, Brett had taken it upon himself to provide her with a male role model. Though he hadn’t entirely ruled out having his own kids, given his habit of falling for women with zero interest in becoming mothers he suspected his niece was going to be as close as he got to fatherhood. But hearing her gush about various boys and bands made it even more obvious his ‘little’ niece was rapidly growing up.

In contrast to her mother, who, like him, was a green-eyed blonde, his niece had inherited her late grandfather’s russet hair and whisky eyes, but like all the McAlpines she was going to be tall—perhaps taller than her mother. At five foot ten, Meaghan was only six inches shorter than Brett, but already Karessa stood eye to eye with her. Or at least she would if she ever actually stood still instead of leaping about like a hyped-up thoroughbred filly.

‘And you know what’s really cool, Brett? Meggsie said I can work at the agency during the next school break!’

Brett frowned at his sister. ‘You’re going to start her modelling?’

‘No, I am not.’ The reply was accompanied by a determined look at Karessa. ‘What I’m hoping to do is discourage such stupidity. So feel free to back me up on this, little brother.’

Brett laughed at the abject plea for him to do just the opposite his niece shot at him. ‘Think you guys can at least give me a few days before expecting me to act as Solomon?’

‘Take as long as you like,’ Karessa said, grinning. ‘I’m not going to change my mind, no matter what you say, anyway.’

‘Now there’s a shock,’ he said dryly. ‘No need for a DNA test to prove you’re Meaghan’s daughter.’

Just then the two women came to a halt beside a sparkling red, latest model BMW. There was one thing he hadn’t missed while he was away: his sister’s thrill-seeker driving style!

‘Of course, Karessa,’ he said, looking at the very crumpled rear passenger side fender, ‘we can always hope you inherited my driving skills. Hell, anyone’s save Demolition Donna’s, here.’

‘I know,’ his niece said solemnly. ‘That’s my nightly prayer.’

‘Oh, shut up, both of you!’ Meaghan’s rebuke was weakened by the hint of a reluctant smile. ‘It wasn’t my fault. I was pulling out of the mall parking lot into traffic and this young idiot slammed into the side of me.’

‘Late twenties. Body to die for. Major hunk,’ Karessa tossed over her shoulder as she slid into the back seat.

‘He was a reckless idiot!’ her mother insisted.

‘Meaghan, if you were pulling into traffic, then you were in the wrong,’ Brett said mildly, wondering what his chances were of talking his sister into letting him drive. ‘Unlock the trunk, will you? So I can load my luggage.’

‘You’re back in Australia now; it’s a boot, not a trunk. And how come if I was in the wrong I wasn’t charged, huh?’