Who's the Boss? Read online

  Caitlin Taylor. Professional socialite. Ditzy, spoiled princess...his new assistant.

  An imaginary noose settled around his neck. He liked gorgeous women as much as the next guy—maybe even more—but no way could he work with one, especially one with the life-style and attitude this one was reputed to have. He couldn’t respect someone who didn’t know what tough work meant, or the value of a hardearned dollar, and Joe never worked with anyone he didn’t one hundred percent respect. Never.

  “This is CompuSon, Inc., isn’t it?” Her voice could arouse the dead, and Joe wasn’t, unfortunately, dead. “I checked the suite number downstairs,” she said. “You must be the receptionist.”

  He groaned inwardly and stood up from the front desk. Never again, he promised himself. He’d work from the seclusion of his own office from now on.

  She flashed another dazzling smile, leveling him with a pair of warm, dreamy brown eyes so deep he felt like swimming. “My father—”

  Shit. Her father. His own mentor, beloved friend, father figure. Edmund Taylor had meant everything to him, and Joe had made him a promise. The noose tightened. “Your father told me about you,” he managed to say around the month-old lump in his throat.

  “He did?” She seemed surprised. “So you know I’ll be working here?”

  Joe nodded, wondering what to do. He’d never broken a promise and he didn’t want to start now, especially not when it came to Edmund, but he had absolutely no use for this woman in his company. None at all.

  “Maybe you can tell me something about this place. About the boss,” she added with another sweet smile as she moved gracefully into the room. Her skirt flowed around her ankles, clung to her thighs. The light blazer she wore parted in the middle, revealing her sweater, snugged tight over her soft, perfect curves.

  In any other situation, Joe knew he’d be flashing his most charming smile and already be deeply into flirt mode. This sort of woman was made for seduction, and while he didn’t want to employ one, he loved the interplay.

  But playing with her would be pleasure, and this was serious business. His business. His pride and joy. Dread filled him at the thought. With this woman around, none of the guys, all of whom drooled at anything in a skirt, would get an ounce of productive work done.

  “Is he nice?” she wondered with a slight frown. “Patient?”

  “Who?”

  A little laugh escaped her. “The boss, silly. You know, Mr. Brownley.”

  “Uh...nice? No,” he said decisively, standing. The top of her head didn’t quite meet his chin. She was petite, feminine, beautiful. And he didn’t want her here. “He’s really...awful. Hard to work for. Ugly,” he added desperately.

  Caitlin’s brow puckered as she considered this. “That really doesn’t have anything to do with—”

  “You should leave. Now.” The idea sprouted from nowhere. He wouldn’t be breaking his promise if she left, right? It wouldn’t be his fault “You should go before he sees you.”

  Caitlin cocked her head to one side and studied him sympathetically. “He makes you nervous, doesn’t he?” She inhaled deeply, drawing his attention downward. Dangerously downward, causing his hormones to do a quick, instinctive dance.

  “Don’t worry,” she told him with a confidence he could see was more bravado than anything else. “Maybe now that he has me to help him, he’ll be nicer.”

  Guilt stabbed him. “Uh...yes...well...”

  “Things will work out,” she soothed, her face open and clear of anything but genuine emotion, which only deepened his guilt. “You’ll see. I’ll fawn over him a bit. You know, mother him.”

  Joe had never been mothered, and maybe because of that he tended to have a low opinion of anyone who relied heavily on those family-type affections. “That probably won’t help much,” he admitted.

  “Everyone needs mothering.”

  “Not everyone.” Not Joseph Brownley. He didn’t need anyone. Period. Never would. But she seemed so optimistic, while at the same time so touchingly full of nerves, that he lost his desire to continue the farce, even if she were just a gorgeous piece of fluff. “Look—”

  “It’s all right,” she said gently, nodding her head. Wild blond hair flew around her face, cupping her rosy cheeks, framing huge eyes that were surprisingly sharp and self-aware. “I’ll be fine.”

  “No, you don’t understand—”

  “Yes, I do. You’re trying to be kind.”

  Kind. Joe might have laughed. He’d certainly never been accused of kindness before. “No,” he assured her with a tight smile. “I’m not.”

  “You don’t have to tell me how bad of a monster he is.” She swallowed hard, making Joe feel like a first-class jerk. “I really can handle it. Just...point me in the right direction.” Her voice was a whisper now. “And I’ll find out for myself.”

  Hell. “You already have.” Apology softened his voice, and he sighed with regret.

  “What do you mean?”

  Oh, he was going to have to face this, whether he wanted to or not, but on the other hand, so was she. This was no place for her, and the sooner she realized it, the better for the both of them. “I mean you probably should have left while you had the chance.”

  Her eyes reflected her confusion, and he didn’t blame her. “I’m the monster,” he said. “Joe Brownley.”

  2

  “YOU’RE JOE BROWNLEY?” Caitlin tripped over her tongue, but she couldn’t help it.

  She was shocked, to say the least.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “But...” Good Lord. Well over six feet of rangy, powerful male stared back at her. His ice-blue eyes narrowed, cloudy with thoughts he hid with ease. Although with that square, unforgiving jawline, she could guess he wasn’t especially thrilled. His sun-tipped light brown hair curled carelessly over his collar, as if he couldn’t be bothered with it. Wide, huge hands rested on his hips, his feet placed firmly apart. He looked utterly poised and sell-assured. He wore a plain white T-shirt that bulged over impressive biceps, and faded, snug jeans that fit the man all too well.

  He looked like a ruffian. A hood. A gorgeous, temperamental hood.

  What happened to her old, pencil-laden, calculator-carrying geek? This man was young—early thirties at the most—sharp and, judging by his scowl, tough as nails.

  At first he’d seemed sweet and friendly, but no longer. Now he was the complete opposite. And to think she’d been worried about him, and his fear of the wrath of the “boss”!

  “Oh, dear,” she whispered. “This isn’t going to work out at all.”

  Relief flooded his features, softening them. “Really?”

  An audible groan came from the other side of the wall. In a flash, Joseph’s scowl was back. He reached around her with one long arm and yanked open the door. Three guys—at least two of whom fit her computer-geek image to the last microinch—nearly fell into the room.

  They recovered quickly, especially with the glare they received from Joe, and mumbling assorted apologies, slunk back down the hallway.

  “Sorry,” Joe told Caitlin. “We’re short on excitement around here. You were saying this wasn’t going to work out?”

  She nodded, wondering how a computer nerd could possibly have such a low, husky voice, like fine-aged whiskey. “Yes. I’m sorry. But...well, in my experience, I don’t work well with men like you.”

  He blinked. “Men like me?”

  A sound came from behind the once again shut door. It sounded like a...snicker. Three snickers.

  Joe inhaled deeply and ignored them.

  Caitlin pictured the three men once again pressed against the closed door, listening with their ears glued to the wood. She might have smiled, were it not for the frown on Joseph’s face.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he wanted to know, straightening his wide shoulders. “That you don’t work well with men like me?”

  It meant that she was tired of pushing away roaming hands and groping fingers from the kin
d of man who took her at face value. Tired of being patted on the head as if she were a toy, a pretty, empty shell of a human being.

  It had been happening to her ever since puberty, which had come unfortunately early. In her experience, the kind of man most likely to treat her that way stood right in front of her. Cool, collected, knowing, cocky.

  “It simply means I’m sorry, Mr. Brownley,” she said. “But this won’t work out at all. It’s clear that you’re a man who needs no one. Certainly not me.” Caitlin turned, got to the door before she remembered something horrifying.

  She needed this job desperately.

  Without it, she was headed for the poorhouse. It’d been so easy for her to forget that little detail, being a woman completely unused to stress.

  Could she find another job?

  The idea almost made her laugh. With her qualifications, she’d be lucky to land the frontcounter job at Del Taco. Her hand stilled on the doorknob, and she grappled with pride and fear and something even newer...annoyance.

  Why hadn’t he wanted her?

  “Did you forget where you parked your car?” Joe inquired politely from behind her.

  Great. The sexy thug was a smartass to boot. “No.” Plastering her friendliest smile in place, Caitlin turned back to face the sternest-looking cute guy she’d ever seen. “I just thought that maybe...” Oh, how she hated to eat crow. “Maybe I judged you too quickly.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, his cool eyes giving nothing of himself away. They both ignored the multiple sharp intakes of breath from the other side of the door. “Does this mean you’re not leaving?” he asked finally.

  She winced at the unmistakable regret in his tone. “That’s what it means,” she admitted. “Unless I’m fired.”

  “From what I know of you, you have absolutely no experience in much of anything, except maybe social studies.”

  She stiffened in automatic defense at the disapproval and disgust. “I can do this job.”

  He sighed heavily. “Dammit. I can’t fire you anyway. It’s complicated.”

  From the other side of the door came a joint sigh of relief that made her feel marginally better. At least his employees wanted her to stay. She relaxed marginally with relief. She hadn’t failed yet!

  I’ll show you, Dad. I can do this. But then his words sank in. “You can’t fire me? How come?”

  His already impossibly hard jaw hardened even more. “Never mind. What do you know about being a secretary?”

  “Uh...” What she knew would fit in her back pocket—if she had one. “I can make coffee,” she improvised, drawing on the one skill she thought she probably shared with every good secretary.

  Joe Brownley closed his eyes and groaned.

  “And,” she added brilliantly, completely undeterred by his response, “I have a really nice telephone voice!”

  Joe was first and foremost a thinker. There was nothing he liked less than to not understand something—and he didn’t come close to understanding Edmund’s daughter. “Tell me this,” he begged. “Why do you want this job?”

  “Well...that’s a long story.” A shrug lifted her petite shoulders and her not so petite breasts, which were already straining against her sweater. “I doubt you’d understand.”

  “I’m of average intelligence,” he said dryly. “Try me.”

  Curious now, he crossed his arms and leaned back against the door frame. “You’re rich as sin, princess. And I know for a fact your father had you in a beachfront condo, and a fancy car.”

  She laughed shortly, her doe eyes looking a little wild.

  “So why do you want a job like this?”

  “I just do.” She licked her lips. “And the will says you’ll give it to me.”

  She was right, and the reminder of it was a slap in the face. Edmund had given Joe everything, everything, and in return he’d asked for only one little favor.

  It was time to stop griping about it and accept the facts. For better or worse, he was stuck with his new assistant.

  At least until she quit.

  “Okay, Ms. Taylor,” he said wearily, rubbing his temples. “Here’s how this is going to work. I’m in the middle of something pretty important and hate to be bothered. I guess I could use someone to handle the phones.”

  A cheer went up on the other side of the door; Joe hauled it open. Again, the three young men stumbled awkwardly into the room. Immediately, they all straightened, tried to look casual.

  Disgusted, Joe said, “These yo-yos are my techs,” he told Caitlin. “Huey, Dewey and Louie.”

  Two of them were identical twins. One of the tall, skinny, dark-haired twenty-odd-year-olds stuck out his hand, a wide grin on his face. “Hi. I’m Andy.” He pumped Caitlin’s hand so enthusiastically, she feared he might pull her arm right out of the socket, but his expression was so kind, so sincere, she just smiled back, relieved beyond speech by the friendly face.

  “I provide tech support to our customers,” he said. “As well as keeping Joe here human by dragging him out of here every night.”

  Human? Could have fooled her.

  “I’m Tim,” said the other twin. He, too, grinned from ear to ear. “I also help with tech support, but basically Joe couldn’t function without me because I have all the charm and personality.”

  Joe rolled his eyes.

  Tim nodded. “It’s true.” He looked at Caitlin, his eyes shining with good humor. “And you’re really great.”

  “Thank you,” said Caitlin smiling, thinking they were pretty great, too.

  The third, a medium-built redhead who looked to be in his early thirties, smiled shyly and kept his hands firmly in his pockets when he introduced himself. “I’m Vince. I work in product development with Joe.”

  “We’ve been wanting a new secretary,” Tim said into the awkward silence. “Really bad. Ever since the last one...uh...left.”

  Andy nodded emphatically. “Joe scared her off, and—” He broke off at the look on Joseph’s face.

  Another awkward silence. Tim bit his lip. Andy stared at his feet. Vince watched Caitlin send a curious, cautious glance to Joe. “She, uh...didn’t work out,” Vince said diplomatically. “It wasn’t really anyone’s fault exactly.”

  Joe scoffed. “No need to mince words, Vince. You can tell her the truth.”

  Whether it was loyalty or simple resistance to Joseph’s tone, Vince remained silent, stubbornly buttoning his lip.

  “I’ll tell her,” Tim piped up in a stage whisper that everyone within three miles could have heard. He looked at Caitlin and confided, “Joe scared the last three women off. You don’t scare easily, do you?”

  “I...” She thought of her bills. Of the creditors. “No.”

  “Joe’s not all that great with women,” Tim said.

  Vince laughed softly when Joe shook his head, disgusted.

  “We begged him to get someone in here to do the filing and answer the phones. And to lighten things up a bit. You know—someone to have fun with. That’s all. No offense, you understand,” Andy said quickly.

  “None taken,” Caitlin assured him, delighted with her sweet new workmates.

  “But the longest any of them lasted is about three hours,” admitted Tim.

  Looking into the frowning, incredibly handsome face of Joe Brownley, Caitlin had no problem imagining why. “You don’t say.”

  Vince laughed again, and some of the tension dispersed. “He’s all bark, no bite,” he assured her, but some of his amusement faded when Joe glared at him.

  “Why is everyone talking about me as if I’m not standing right here?”

  Vince ignored him. “Sort of like a terrier,” he elaborated. “Loud and gruff. Then passive as a kitten.”

  “Really?” She eyed the very annoyed Joe. The long, lean lines of his body were stiff. His eyes like ice. Passive was the last word she would have used.

  “Back to work, guys,” he said stiffly, his wide shoulders tense.

  Tim hesitated at the doo
r. “Nice to meet you, Caitlin. I hope you stay.”

  “Do you really know how to make coffee?” Andy asked plaintively. “Because—”

  “Andy,” Joe said, his voice careful and quiet. “Don’t you have something, anything, to do?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” His shoulders slumped. “It’s just that you make really crappy coffee, Joe. And—”

  “I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to discuss the damn coffee,” Joe grated out, clearly beyond patience. “I’d really, really like to get to work some time today. Would that be all right with everyone here?”

  Vince leaned close to Caitlin, confiding, “He’s only a bear because he’s so close to finishing this project and all this other stuff keeps interrupting him. Phones, paperwork, stuff like that.” He flashed a sweet smile. “Don’t let him scare you off now, okay?”

  He was so kind. So were the twins.

  She couldn’t remember if or when she’d been shown such simple, untethered friendship. Any friends she’d thought she had were gone. Vanished into thin air because she was no longer a somebody.

  But these guys... They’d all looked her in the eyes instead of her chest—another plus in their favor—when they’d talked to her, and while it was obvious they thought she was pretty, they’d treated her with respect.

  Caitlin smiled, embarrassed to feel her throat tighten up at reliving their warm, eager greeting. She’d never in her life felt so welcome—the still scowling Joseph Brownley excluded—and a realization hit hard. Everywhere she’d gone, everything she’d done, she’d either been accepted for her looks or for her father’s money.

  Never for herself alone.

  Everyone left and she was standing here with her boss. She knew darn well he didn’t want her, that he didn’t think she could handle this job. But for some reason, he wasn’t going to refuse her.

  He caught her gaze with his, and his jaw went all hard again. Most of her resolve wavered and what little there was left took a bad beating at his next words.

  “Okay, princess, here’s how this situation is going to work.”

  Where had that nice man gone? The one she’d first spoken with, the one she’d thought was going to be her friend? She looked carefully, but couldn’t see a trace of him. It was almost as if once he had realized he was stuck with her, he’d purposely turned himself into someone she wouldn’t like.