Who’s the Boss?

6

FOR ONE ENTIRE AFTERNOON, Caitlin didn’t see Joe. He was at meetings with the bank, with customers, with who knew whom else.

She was thankful for the respite, which gave her the peace and quiet and nerve to do as she’d threatened. She’d reorganized all the files and now everything was clean, tidy and in its place.

By chance, she’d intercepted the bank statement for the business checking account when it had arrived in the mail. Because numbers had always mysteriously called her, she went ahead and reconciled his statement on her break. She would have and could have easily closed out the month, but picturing Joseph’s face, she didn’t quite dare.

Vince, Tim and Andy were thrilled with the way the office looked, and how smoothly everything was running. It was amazing how big the place seemed once the floors were clear and it wasn’t like walking through a maze just to cross the rooms. Caitlin had no idea how Joe would feel about it, but she could bet he wouldn’t offer the joy and easy acceptance she’d gotten from the techs.

However he reacted, he couldn’t avoid her forever, or discount that strange, unaccountable attraction between them that flared up at the most annoying of times.

Every time they looked at each other, there were sparks.

It went deeper than the physical, far deeper, for there existed between them a bond she couldn’t deny, and it made her as wary of him as he was of her.

Caitlin was studiously avoiding any serious relationships out of self-preservation. She knew from experience with her father and her fair-weather friends that close relationships brought only pain. Disappointment. Loneliness.

Being on her own was better. Easier.

Either Joe had learned that lesson, too, or he simply didn’t like her.

That day he’d given her an advance from his own pocket, she’d come back from her lunch break to find a paycheck on her desk, handwritten by him. The gesture hadn’t surprised her. Beneath his rough and tough exterior, she had a feeling he was a big softie.

She laughed at herself. A softie. Right.

Well, now she had one paycheck and her pride. It was the latter that allowed her to keep a stiff upper lip in those dark moments when despair threatened, when she cried herself to sleep thinking about her father and the way he’d abandoned her.

She knew all her father’s assets were gone, divided among his friends and associates, but she didn’t know why. For the first time, she decided she deserved answers. She called his attorney, but because he was out of town for the next week, she had to leave a message.

Feeling marginally better, Caitlin sat on her bed and reviewed her mail. It was a particularly bad mail day, each envelope hiding a big, ugly, nasty bill, all of which were at least second notices.

But the last one really caught her eye-a notice to vacate her condo.

The bank was finally going to sell.

She’d known this moment would come sooner or later, but she’d been hoping for later, much later.

Why, she wondered for the thousandth time, hadn’t her father paid off her car or her condo? And unfortunately, at the time of his death, he hadn’t taken care of any of her credit cards, either, which left her in a position where she couldn’t even charge her way out of the mess.

One thing was for certain-she couldn’t continue to live as she had. She plopped back on her bed and contemplated her ceiling and came to the only conclusion she could-it was time to sell off everything she had of value, before the bank came and claimed it.

Then she could create a whole new life for herself. A lot less luxurious life, but she could handle that. Already, she’d discovered some of the joy of taking care of herself. For one thing, her new friends-Vince, Andy, Tim, even Amy-they were all real friends. They wouldn’t desert her because she wasn’t heir to a fortune. They couldn’t care less, they just liked her.

Her.

That was a new and welcome surprise.

They liked her for being Caitlin, not for where Caitlin could take them.

It was possible that way down deep, she’d been waiting for this, wishing for the chance to prove to herself she could make it on her own, without any help.

Seemed she was about to get her wish.

DARN IT, but she was late again.

“You had to stop to talk to that lost homeless lady,” Caitlin berated herself as she raced down the street, her purse flapping behind her. “Had to worry about her instead of yourself and your job and your undoubtedly furious boss.”

Huffing and puffing, she dashed into the office building that housed CompuSoft. Because her lungs were threatening to explode right out of her chest, she sagged against the wall in the downstairs reception area, trying to catch her breath.

“Close to the quarter-century mark,” she muttered out loud, “and already in pathetic shape.”

“Caitlin? You okay?”

Holding a hand to her chest, she turned to face a startled Vince, who had one of Amy’s scrumptious doughnuts in his hand.

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 say?”

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.”