Who's the Boss? Page 7

  Her mouth started to water. She’d missed breakfast again.

  Amy looked concerned, too, and without a word she poured Caitlin some water, which Caitlin gratefully took. “I... will be fine... in just a...sec.”

  Vince grinned and gave her a slow once-over. “If you’re trying to get in shape, you’re too late. You already are.”

  “Well, I appreciate that,” she gasped. “But I’m not...doing this to myself on purpose, believe me. I hate exercise.” Wryly, she glanced down at her running shoes, then kicked them off. Reaching into her shoulder bag, she pulled out her high-heeled sandals. She’d been doing this every morning, changing downstairs while visiting with Amy, before going to the second floor and facing Joe.

  “Why were you running?” Vince held out his arm so that she could use it to keep her balance while she fastened her sandals.

  She grabbed on to him, feeling the bulge of muscle, the fine silk of his shirt beneath her fingers. Vince, unlike Tim, Andy and even Joe, never wore jeans to work. He was always dressed impeccably, and today was no different. The deep blue of his shirt and trousers matched his dark sapphire eyes perfectly and toned down the brilliance of his hair.

  He waited, his eyes laughing down into hers. “Was that a tough question?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, flushing when she realized he thought she’d been staring at him in frank appreciation. She did appreciate him, just not in the way he thought.

  She appreciated his friendship, because at this point in her life friendship was a new and exciting gift. Somehow, though, she knew Vince wouldn’t take it in the flattering light she meant it. “I was running because I’m late. As usual. The bus—”

  “Where’s your car?”

  “It’s gone,” she said as cheerfully as she could with a lump the size of a regulation football stuck in her throat.

  She missed her Beemer!

  “You take the bus in from the beach every day?” he asked incredulously. “That’s an awful commute, Caitlin.”

  “It’s not so bad.” What was awful was the kind and sincere horror in his voice at what she had to go through to get to work. “But the bus never seems to come on time. They say seven-fifteen, but they don’t really mean it. Now I finally get the meaning—” she huffed as she worked her second sandal on “—when they say Californian time.”

  Vince laughed as he gently supported her. “Don’t worry—I’ll tell Joe it was my fault.”

  “Your fault,” she repeated. “How on earth could my tardiness be your fault—” She broke off as she realized exactly what Joe would think when Vince told him that.

  Vince laughed again when she flushed and said, “Oh.”

  “Come on,” he said, tugging her to the elevator. “It’ll be fun. He’s so entertaining when he’s furious.”

  While Caitlin knew darn well Joe didn’t want her for himself, she instinctively knew how he would react if one of his techs wanted her. “Just yesterday, when Tim was going to program the clock to swear out loud on the hour, you reminded him how much pressure Joe was under right now.”

  “So?”

  “So why tease him now? He’s still under pressure. He might explode.”

  Vince pushed the button for their floor and grinned down at her. “Yeah. Think how much fun this is going to be.”

  “Vince—”

  He pulled her into the elevator, but just as the door started to close, an elegant, leather-clad foot stopped it.

  “Wait!” a female voice cried, and Vince pressed the open-door button.

  Caitlin watched as the tall, willowy, incredibly beautiful woman stepped gracefully into the elevator and smiled familiarly at Vince. “Thanks, hon.” Her long limbs moved fluidly as she settled herself. Her ankle-length white sheath was striking against her dark skin.

  Now, that’s a body, Caitlin thought enviously. All lean and toned—no extra curves there! She was just thinking how lovely the waist-length, heavy sable hair was when the woman turned to her...and frowned.

  Caitlin recognized that frown, and its disapproval.

  Joe gave it to her all the time. She stiffened in automatic response.

  “This is Darla,” Vince told her. “She’s the accountant in the building. And Darla, this is Caitlin. Our secretary.”

  Caitlin smiled, but it wasn’t her usual genuine, shining one because she felt suddenly drained.

  “Are you enjoying the work?” Darla asked coolly.

  “It’s interesting.”

  Darla’s expression opened up a bit, surprised. “You mean, he’s letting you do something other than answer phones?”

  Not that he knows, Caitlin thought. “Well...let’s just say we’re working on it.”

  “Ah.” Darla’s mouth curved. “Well, at least you made it past the two-day mark. No one else has.”

  “What a surprise that is.”

  Darla did smile then, a genuine one. “I see you’re not enamored. That’s good. Maybe you have a shot at making it in that office before he eats you alive.”

  “Enamored?” Because the thought was so ridiculous, Caitlin laughed.

  “He’s not an easy man,” Darla agreed. “As you’ve obviously noticed.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “But he’s a good one.”

  Yes. And also hard, tough, unforgiving and sexy as hell. “He’s a good man,” she agreed quietly, because it was the truth.

  “You know...” Darla tipped her head to study Caitlin carefully. “You’re much more than Barbie meets Baywatch. I’ll have to tell Joe I was wrong about you.”

  “Barbie meets—” Caitlin sputtered, whipped her head to glare at Vince when he burst out laughing at her expression.

  The elevator stopped. Darla smiled, and this time it was warm and genuine. “Bye, Caitlin. Good luck today. Or maybe I should wish Joe good luck. I have a feeling he’s going to need it.”

  Caitlin wished she’d left her tennis shoes on, because for the first time in her life she felt like running. She wanted to race directly to Joe and tell him what she thought of him and his accountant.

  “Caitlin, wait,” Vince called out, trying to keep up with her as she made her way down the hallway.

  “I don’t think so.” She kept going, driven by a need to give Joseph Brownley a piece of her mind. A big piece. A great big huge piece that would knock him flat on his far too gorgeous butt.

  Unfortunately for Tim and Andy, they happened to be lurking around her desk when Caitlin stormed in. Twin smiles greeted her, only to die at the murderous expression on her face.

  “What’s wrong?” Andy asked quickly.

  Vince grimaced. “She just met Darla....”

  “Tell me,” she said evenly, tossing her purse to the floor by her desk and placing her hands on her hips. She blew a strand of hair away from her face. “What did the other secretaries look like?”

  In unison, the twins turned to Vince, confused. Vince sighed and shook his head.

  “Oh, come on, guys,” she encouraged. “Think. You remember, the ones who quit?” Her voice held a poisonous mixture of sweet smile and deadly tone. “Were they...pretty?”

  “Not like you,” Andy said loyally, and Tim shook his head vigorously.

  “Darla didn’t mean it,” Vince said quietly to her, touching her arm, his eyes deep with concern and regret.

  “No? But I’ll bet Joe did.” She dragged in a deep breath, stunned to find herself so upset.

  “Caitlin, what’s the matter?” Andy asked. “What didn’t Darla mean?”

  All three of them were looking at her in concern. Not one of them was on the verge of laughter. They really cared, Caitlin realized with a burst of surprise and warmth. They cared that she was upset, and they didn’t find it funny. It went a long way toward soothing her. “Nothing,” she said, forcing a smile. “It wasn’t important.”

  “It was if it hurt you.” Tim came closer, peering into her face. “Darla’s really pretty great, but she does like a good joke. What did she sa
y?”

  Caitlin dropped her gaze from his, feeling a little silly. “Something about Barbie meets Baywatch,” she muttered.

  His eyes widened. He bit his lip, which Caitlin would have sworn was so he couldn’t laugh. Next to her, Andy made a suspicious noise, something like a strangled hyena. In a Joe-like move, Vince closed his eyes.

  “Oh, stop it,” she said, biting back her own smile. “It really wasn’t so funny a minute ago.”

  “You know it’s not exactly a put-down,” Vince offered in his boss’s defense. “Most women would kill to be described that way.” His eyes stayed on hers. “And no offense, but you really do look every bit as good as Barbie, or any one of those women on Baywatch for that matter.”

  “Really?” She let her gaze run over his own well-proportioned body. “How would you feel to be known as...oh, I don’t know. How about Fabio meets G.I. Joe?”

  Vince grinned. “Fabio?” He flexed his muscles. “Cool.”

  Caitlin rolled her eyes and gave up. “Oh, never mind.” She shooed them all back to their offices and went to the small kitchen. Quietly, efficiently, she started the new coffeemaker, because of course it was empty. She waited impatiently until the coffee began to drip into the pot.

  Filling a mug to the top with the steaming brew, she went back into the hall and contemplated the closed door to Mr. Gorgeous Butt’s office.

  She knocked.

  “Go away.”

  She smiled and walked in.

  Joe didn’t even waste a scowl on her, but sat hunched over his computer, his fingers whirling away on the keyboard. “Back off or die,” he muttered without much heat. “And you’re late. Again.”

  Suddenly he froze. Then he lifted his head and sniffed. “Coffee? Real coffee?”

  “As opposed to fake?” she asked sweetly, holding the mug just out of his reach. He stood so he could outreach her.

  He’d gone all out today, wearing a light blue shirt instead of his usual black. His jeans, faded from wear, fit his long, lean limbs like a glove. When his fingers brushed hers, shocking her with that ever present electricity that ran between them, she gave over the mug.

  Clearly unaffected, he sipped gratefully, then let out a huge sigh. “Thanks.”

  She lifted a brow. “Thanks? Thanks? Did you actually thank me? That can’t be—you’re never polite.”

  He looked insulted. “I’m plenty polite.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course I am. I’m diplomatic, too.”

  Caitlin pretended to contemplate this while she walked the length of his office. Turning back to him, she asked, “Is it polite to discuss your employees with friends? Is it diplomatic to laugh at them, about them, behind their back?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Is it considered politically correct to resort to name-calling, especially before you even really know that employee?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Does ‘Barbie meets Baywatch’ mean anything to you?”

  His mouth opened a bit “Oh,” he said, his face unreadable. “You’ve...met Darla.”

  She waited for more, but he said nothing else. “That’s all you have to say?”

  He shrugged. “If it matters, you don’t look like a model in the least to me.”

  “Gee, thanks,” she said, feeling inexplicably flattened. The first man in the universe who didn’t think she was pretty, and this depressed her?

  She was an idiot.

  “You have too much...” He waved his hand wildly, gesturing to her body, under the mistaken impression she wanted a detailed analysis of her body type. “Everything. Yeah, that’s it. You have far too much everything.”

  “Hmm.” The warning in her voice might have deterred another man, a normal man, but then again, Joe was anything but normal.

  “And your hair isn’t like Barbie’s at all,” he offered. “It’s short, for one thing.”

  “I see.”

  “As for Baywatch...” He shrugged. “I’ve never seen the show, but it’s supposedly got those tight red bathing suits, and I can’t see you in one of those, either.”

  “You can’t? Too much ‘everything’ to fit into one of them, huh?”

  “Come on, princess, I can’t be telling you anything you don’t already know.”

  “I’m not a princess.” Each word was enunciated, and spoken very quietly. “If I were, do you think I’d be working for pennies for you?”

  Suddenly wary, he looked at her, as if just realizing she wasn’t taking this in quite the same lighthearted tone he’d meant it. “Caitlin—”

  “Set down your coffee, Joe,” she said evenly.

  He did. “Why?”

  “Because I’m going to act like a princess and have a temper tantrum. I don’t want you to burn yourself.” She swiped at the neat stack of papers on his desk, knocking them to the floor. She reached for another stack, getting into the spirit.

  Laughing, he grabbed her hand and held it tight in a fist that might as well have been steel. “What was that for? Wait!”

  But she simply switched tactics and tried to evade him. “Don’t...patronize me,” she demanded. “Don’t talk about me behind my back, and don’t...” She let out a huff of steam when he grabbed her, roaring with laughter.

  Seeing red, she fought him. “Let me go!” she demanded, puffing and gasping for air as she fought.

  With surprising speed and agile strength, he managed to wrap both arms around her and haul her close, pressing her now useless limbs against his own.

  At the contact, she went utterly still.

  So did Joe.

  In the silence, their rough breathing sounded abnormally loud.

  And arousing.

  “Are we fighting,” he wondered in a suddenly low, husky voice, all traces of humor gone as he stared down into her uplifted face, “or are we playing?”

  “I...I don’t know.”

  7

  “I THOUGHT we were fighting.” Caitlin stared at Joe with her huge, glowing eyes. She wiggled a bit, pressing all those terrific curves to him and causing interesting things to happen to his insides. And outsides. “But now...I’ve lost track.”

  Joe had, too. His heart was pounding, his body responding to the tight, erotic hold he had on her. She stared at his mouth, only inches from hers. Then hers opened slightly and he nearly moaned.

  “Joe.”

  “This is crazy,” he muttered.

  “Yeah. Insane.” But she tipped her torso up to his, and her round breasts pressed into his chest.

  He was lost.

  “Stop me,” he begged, dipping his head down so he could slide his lips over her jaw. He nipped at the corner of her delicious mouth. “Stop me, Caitlin.”

  She skimmed her hands beneath his shirt to streak across his bare back, and caught the lobe of his ear between her teeth. His eyes crossed with lust, and the ball of heat he’d been stoking in his gut for days kindled.

  “I... don’t think I want to stop you.” She sounded breathless. Confused. Aroused.

  “So we’re both crazy. Hell.” And he kissed her.

  Her fingers dug into his shoulders as the ball of heat erupted into fire. The soft, needy whimper that escaped her undid him, and he dragged her closer, lifting her up against him so that he could get better access to those lips and what lay beyond them. Under his fingers, her skin felt so soft, so warm, so inviting, he became dizzy with it.

  So did Caitlin.

  Passion.

  Desire. She hadn’t realized just one kiss could provoke it. Demand it. He surrounded her with his strength, his hunger. This was what she’d been missing. This. And she wanted more.

  Joe stroked his fingers down her neck, discovered the pulse drumming at the base of her throat. Unable to resist, he bent his head to explore it with his mouth. She tasted like heaven, all sweet, melting irresistibility. Bringing his mouth back to hers, he swallowed her gasp as he trailed his fingers across the soft, slick silk of h
er snug-fitting blouse. He cupped her breasts, running his thumbs over their tight peaks. Gasping, she arched her body into his.

  He had to see her eyes, had to know if she felt half of what he did. He was breathless when he lifted his head to look into her face. At the sudden loss of his warm lips, Caitlin protested wordlessly by fisting her hands in his hair and capturing his mouth again.

  He understood, for he also feared he might never get enough. And he’d seen the cloudy desire in her eyes, mirroring his own. Her mouth opened to his, hot and hungry, and the room was filled with their sounds of pleasure... Then the sound of the office door opening.

  Caitlin jerked in his arms. Still holding her, Joe lifted his head, prepared to bite someone’s—anyone’s—head off.

  But whoever had opened the door had already retreated, leaving a conspicuously empty doorway.

  Joe forced himself to look into Caitlin’s eyes, prepared for the regret and the recriminations he deserved, but there were none.

  Arms still looped around his neck, she smiled at him. A full, dazzling, vivid smile that did funny things to his heart and made his throat tighten uncomfortably.

  There was an excellent explanation for what was happening, he assured himself—insanity. It was all he could come up with to account for holding this wild, unstable, unpredictable, irritating-as-hell woman in his arms. For kissing her until they’d both lost their senses.

  “I don’t suppose,” she said softly, threading her fingers through his hair, making him want to purr with satisfaction at just her light touch, “you’d like to try that again.”

  “Caitlin.” It wasn’t possible. They shouldn’t have indulged in the first place. Slowly, with some regret, he reached up and unhooked her arms from around his neck.

  “I guess not,” she said, still sounding cheerful, and she backed up a step, which allowed him to see into those incredible brown eyes.

  They were filled with hurt. Silently calling himself every name he could think of, he reached for her, but she danced back. “No.” She shook her head and scooted around his chair, holding it between them like a shield. “No pity embraces, okay? You kissed me, you’re regretting it, let’s just let it go at that.”