Who's the Boss? (4 page)

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Authors: Jill Shalvis

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary

BOOK: Who's the Boss?
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“Well, someone should mention that work isn’t everything in life.”
“You handled him well.”
“If that was well done, I’d hate to see him when he
isn’t
handled properly.”
“He’s a good guy, Caitlin. Really. He’s just under pressure right now. And he just lost Edmund—” He stopped, horrified. Color flooded his face. “I’m sorry. He was your father, so you know exactly how much Joe is hurting.”
Yes, she knew and the thought of Joe mourning her father disconcerted and warmed her at the same time.
Joseph’s grieving brought an image she hadn’t anticipated and didn’t know if she was ready to accept. “Which would explain how chipper he’s been.”
Vince let out a smile. “Well... truth is, he’s just about always that way.”
“But the rest of you—you and Tim and Andy—you’re all so nice and welcoming. How do you do it?”
“Tim and Andy are really great. We’ve all been friends since...well, forever.”
How wonderful those sort of ties must be. There was no one in her past with whom she kept in contact. “Tell me about all of you.”
Vince laughed without embarrassment. “We were the proverbial school geeks. You know, the ones girls wouldn’t even look at? Luckily, we’ll get the last laugh. At our five-year reunion, we realized most of our school buddies are struggling with jobs like bagging groceries. Nothing beats this. Plus we still have hair.”
She laughed. “And you’re fit. At my reunion, the cheerleaders had gotten fat.”
“See?” He grinned. “We’re not fat. And we’re doing what we love.”
They were, Caitlin realized with a spurt of envy. She’d never found her place. She’d never really been satisfied. Maybe that was because she’d never really challenged herself, never held a real job.
That could change, she thought with hope. She could find her place. Maybe even right here.
The phone rang. “Just a sec,” she said quickly, and then raced down the hall. “Good morning, CompuSoft—No, wait,” she managed to say, breathless from her dash down the hall. “It’s almost afternoon, now isn’t it?”
Rambling
. A very unattractive trait. “Oh, forget it. Just hello.”
She got a dial tone. “Well, hell.”
“Nice phone manners.”
Caitlin nearly leaped out of her skin at Joe’s low, husky voice coming from directly behind her. Careful to roll her eyes
before
she turned to face him, she planted a smile on her lips. “So. You’ve come out of your cage.”
“I smelled coffee—” He broke off abruptly when she suddenly shrugged out of her jacket.
Beneath the splashy red, she wore a sleeveless white silk blouse, pretty enough, and unremarkable but for the body beneath it. The soft material dung to her ripe curves in a way that made his pulse race. “What are you doing?” he demanded, backing up a step.
She laughed at the expression on his face. “Whatever you’re thinking, that’s not it.” She dropped the jacket carelessly into her chair, kicked off her pumps and put her hands on her hips. “For your information, I just cleaned your filthy kitchen and I’m hot. Hence the jacket removal.” She sent him a nasty look. “You guys are pigs.”
She swung her hand out for emphasis and hit the lamp on the credenza.
Joe grabbed for it—a split second after it crashed to the floor, where it shattered into millions of jagged shards.
“Dammit!” he roared, falling to his knees besides his brand-new, very expensive zip drive. “What’s this doing on the floor?”
“I was dusting. Do you have any idea how bad dust is for your computer?”
Strangling her was definitely wrong, he told himself. Carefully, he brushed away some of the lamp glass, but stabbed his thumb on a sharp, jagged piece. Swearing again, he pulled the sliver out of his skin and glared up at the woman who’d single-handedly brought chaos into his life.
Big mistake, looking up.
Kneeling at her feet, he found his face came to a very interesting level on her body. Interesting and erotic as hell. He forced his gaze past her tempting thighs, past the juncture between them, past the rest of her lovely curves and on to her unsettled, melting brown eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, wringing her hands. “It’s just that I’m—” Her stomach, inches from his face, growled noisily. “Hungry,” she finished lamely. “I’m...very hungry.”
Joe closed his eyes. “You’re hungry.”
“Yes.” She nodded emphatically, pressing her hands to her belly.
At that moment, Vince walked in, his gaze widening slightly at Joseph’s and Caitlin’s suggestive pose. “Did I interrupt something?”
“Just me about to get fired,” Caitlin said with a sigh.
Tim and Andy pushed their curious way into the front office, too.
“What’s wrong?” Andy asked, after taking note of Joseph’s fierce scowl.
“Everything,” Joe said, glaring at Caitlin.
“It’s really been nice knowing you guys,” said Caitlin, smiling shakily at the three techs.
“Wait,” Vince said quietly. He looked at Joe. “Wait a minute. Don’t do anything rash.”
“Yeah, Joe,” Tim piped up. “You can’t fire her. She made coffee. Great coffee.”
“And she cleaned,” Andy added. “Did you know the tile in the kitchen is
white?”
Instead of detonating, as Caitlin fully expected, Joe just shook his head.
Then burst out laughing. A full, rich, very pleasant and contagious sound she’d never expected of him. While everyone stared at him, he laughed so hard, he doubled over, hands on his thighs.
Caitlin didn’t get the joke. “I’m sorry about the zip drive,” she whispered.
Silence. Apparently, for once not even Tim, Andy or Vince had anything positive or hopeful to say.
Instead, they all looked in unison at Joe, their expressions filled with the uneasy worry one gives another before shipping him off to the mental ward.
Joe sniffed, straightened, took a deep breath and said, “Well, shit. I guess it’s lunchtime.”
“Really, Joe?”
He looked directly at Caitlin, his eyes hooded. “Yeah. What the hell.”
Relief and hope surged, made her laugh a little giddily. In that moment, Caitlin forgot that he didn’t like silly, untrained women, and that she didn’t like hard, know-it-all men who looked too tasty for their own good.
Maybe, just maybe, this would work out after all.
That’s when the coffeemaker, still plugged in, burst into flames.
4
 
L
UNCH SHOULD HAVE been simple. After they’d gotten rid of the fire department, the five of them—Vince, Tim, Andy, Joe and Caitlin—all piled into Vince’s van.
But Tim and Andy couldn’t decide on a place, and Vince kept making the wrong turn when Joe would call out directions. This would have normally greatly amused Caitlin, except for the fact she was pressed up close in the seat next to Joe.
Actually, plastered was more like it.
She found it a bit unsettling to feel the solid power of him against her, to realize how big he really was. And given the rigid way he held himself so as to minimize contact, he was obviously every bit as aware of her as she was of him.
“Wait!
That
way,” Tim yelled, and the van swerved as Vince made the turn.
Caitlin could feel the strain in Joseph’s body as he tried to remain completely upright and away from her. He didn’t quite succeed and at the next quick turn, which came without warning, he had to lift an arm to the back of her seat to brace himself rather than fall directly on her. Still, his jean-clad thigh pressed against her. Their sides were glued together. She was surrounded by him, by his warmth, by his strength.
He smelled like burned coffee.
“Sorry,” he said gruffly, and tried to pull back just as the van turned in the opposite direction, landing Caitlin practically in his lap.
“It’s okay.” She shot him a smile in spite of how her stomach tightened as the bare skin of his sinewy, tanned arm rubbed against her softer, much lighter one.
Their gazes met and Caitlin’s smile faded. So did Joseph’s. She pulled back, straightened herself. Joe withdrew his arm from around her, but he moved slowly, and she felt his fingers trace lightly over the back of her neck as he did.
She shivered.
Joe frowned at his hand as if he’d lost control of it and if he felt half of what she had begun to feel, then she completely understood.
 
THEY ENDED UP at one of her favorite restaurants.
Only problem was, everyone in southern California apparently wanted to eat there, too. Her nerves immediately reacted to the thought of waiting for a table in the packed bar, pressed tight against the man she tried to convince herself she disliked.
Caitlin would never be sure how it happened, but somehow she ended up at a cozy table for two—with Joe. The others had gotten a table on the other side of the restaurant, quickly and eagerly abandoning her in their haste for pasta.
Joe, looking slightly pained—and who could blame him? Caitlin wondered wildly—tried valiantly to smile at her.
She couldn’t dredge one up in return. “I’m sorry about the coffeemaker.”
“The fire chief said it wasn’t your fault,” he reminded her. “The cord was frayed, just a fire waiting to happen.”
“Yes,” she said miserably, blocking out the pleasantly noisy crowd around them. “But the zip drive...can’t blame that on a frayed cord.”
“It’s done, Caitlin. Forget it.”
She froze, stared at him over her menu. “What?”
“I said, it’s done. Forget it.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Not that. The other.”
“What other?”
“You used my name,” she breathed, some of her innate good humor returning. “Without that big old frown on your face.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You did so. Oops, never mind. The frown is back.”
They sat in silence. After a moment, Joe asked, “Was there something wrong with me being friendly?”
“No. Not at all. It was kinda...nice. Unexpected, but nice.”
“I don’t mean to be...unnice.”
“I know.” And she did. Somehow, she just brought out the worst in him.
He started to lift his water glass, but looked at his hand with a small wince instead.
“Oh, Joe, you’re hurt from the glass! I’d forgotten.” Grabbing his hand, she studied the base of his thumb. A cut marred the tough skin.
“It’s nothing.” He tried to pull his hand back, but she held firm as guilt and regret washed over her.
“I know I keep saying this,” she told him. “But I’m so sorry.” Without thinking, she lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed his palm, directly beneath the injury. “There.”
Joe blinked, stunned, as heat and something far more purled low in his gut. Those full red lips lingered on his skin, making him instantly hard. He had to remind himself that he was reacting naturally to the outer package that made up Caitlin. Not the inner one—the airhead, the destroyer of offices. He cleared his throat. “Is that supposed to make it better?”
That quirky, contagious grin of hers crossed her face. “I think so. Or at least, I hope so. I always...” Her smile faded. “I always wanted someone to do that to my hurts. Silly, huh?”
That quick, sharp pang in his chest was heartburn—
not
in any way empathy. He assured himself of this. Promised himself. “No, it’s not silly.”
“Did it work? Does it feel better?”
Hard to tell, since the ache had settled in his chest, thick and unmovable. Joseph’s world had been lived alone. Always alone. He’d learned early he could rely on no one but himself.
No one
. Not the authorities, not his friends and certainly not his parents. Anything he’d needed or wanted, he’d gotten on his own.
Like Caitlin, he’d once dreamed about having someone kiss away his pains. No one, to his recollection, had ever given a damn about him, not until her father had come along and dragged him off the fast track to nowhere. Edmund had saved his sorry hide, had been the first one to care, and now his daughter was staring at him with those huge dark eyes, wanting him to feel better even though it’d been
she
who’d turned his world upside down. “Yeah,” he told her. “It worked.”
Her beaming smile dazzled him, only this time his reaction was far more than just physical. It went deeper, and he didn’t think he liked it.
He didn’t want to feel this strange softening toward her. She was everything he couldn’t stand. Unmotivated. With a serious lack of ambition. Little common sense. With Edmund as her father, she’d had the world at her fingertips and what had she done? Thrown parties. Just remembering these things made him suitably irritated all over again, allowing him to forget that he’d almost,
almost
, started to like her.
Purposely, he hardened his face into the expression he knew could terrorize the toughest of souls. That should scare her. Keep him safe.
She smiled at him.
Dammit. How was he supposed to deal with that?
Around them, life continued to the music of clinking glasses and tinkling china. Voices sounded, some low and muted, some not. Laughter. And the smells... In another time and place, his surroundings might have fascinated him; he enjoyed watching people.
Today, he had eyes for only one person, and that bugged him. He stayed tucked behind his menu, pretending to scrutinize the list of entrées he had already memorized. What was happening to him?
It was her clothes—that’s what. Her amazing eyes. That infectious laugh. They were all designed to attract a man. Clearly, she enjoyed being looked at.
Knowing this about her helped him control the lust, because if he ever decided he wanted more than a passing fancy with a woman, which he wouldn’t, it would be with one who wanted
him.
It would be with a woman who didn’t send out signals to anything in pants. A woman who loved him heart and soul—him and only him.
This
woman could do none of those things, and telling himself so helped. A little. But nothing could control his lethal curiosity. “Tell me about your father.”
She looked startled, then she shrugged. “You knew him better than me, so there’s nothing to tell.” She set her menu down and before he could continue his line of questioning, she said, “Joe, about your kitchen.”
“Don’t remind me,” he groaned, picking up his glass of water.
“I’ll clean it up.”
“No,” he said quickly, setting down the glass to lift his hands. “I’ll do it.”
“And your zip drive. I’m so sorry.”
“I said forget it.”
“Why didn’t you fire me?”
He’d wanted to. It had been the first thought that popped into his mind at the time, but he couldn’t very well tell her that. He knew he was difficult sometimes, but he never purposely hurt anyone.
“Joe?”
The menu again held his interest for a long moment before he slowly lowered it. “It’s best if we drop this now.”
“Why?”
The waitress came up to them, and because they both knew what they wanted, she took their menu shields, leaving Joe feeling strangely exposed. Vulnerable.
“Why Joe?”
Spreading his big hands on the table, he stared at them. “I’ll tell you on one condition. No, make that two. First, you don’t take this personally, and second, after I tell you, you have to be honest back and tell me why someone with your wealth and means would want this job in the first place.”
Humiliating as it would be to disclose her predicament, she had to know. “Deal.”
His light blue eyes penetrated hers. “I
can’t
fire you. I promised your father I’d give you a job. It’s in the will.”
The waitress brought their food, and Joe dug in.
Caitlin stared at him helplessly. “I don’t understand. The will doesn’t say ‘for as long as I want it.’ All it says is that you’ll
hire
me.”
“So much for not taking this personally.” He sighed and set down his fork. “Yes, but I promised him.”
“When?”
“Before he died. He’d been having health problems.”
He’d never told her. She’d never asked. Guilt stabbed at her.
“It seemed to mean a lot to him that you have this job, so I went along with it.”
She managed to speak evenly. “You don’t strike me as a man who’d go along with anything that didn’t suit your purposes, Joe.”
“Since that’s pretty much true, I suppose there’s no use in being insulted.” But his jaw was tight as he lifted his glass to his lips. “Let’s just call it the repaying of a debt, and in this case, despite any trouble you might cause, I could hire you for the rest of your life and not make a dent in what I owe him.”
The image of her father came to mind—powerful, busy, always gone. Much as he’d given her in material things, he’d rarely had time for anything else. It was hard to imagine him inspiring this kind of fierce loyalty. “What is this great thing he did for you?”
“He rescued me.” When she just stared at him in surprise, he said, “Twenty years ago, he took a twelve-year-old know-it-all street kid out of an alley where he was about to be killed by a gang-banger for hustling him.”
“Were you the twelve-year-old or the gang-banger?”
He grinned, his first, and it was a stunner. “The former.”
But Caitlin didn’t see the humor. She was horrified, picturing a poor, thin, starving kid fighting off a dangerous thug—no matter she’d thought of Joe as a thug himself earlier that day. “Where were your parents?”
He shrugged broad shoulders. “I never knew my father, and there were six kids. My mother couldn’t feed us all. I’d been pretty much on my own for a couple of years.”
“Oh, Joe. I’m sorry.”
“I turned out all right,” he said, lowering his head and shoveling in more food. He smiled suddenly, and the charm of it surprised her. She kept forgetting how good-looking he was, behind all that attitude. “Edmund cleaned me up and hauled me off to a Laker game.”
Her jaw dropped. To her knowledge, her father had been too busy for sports. He’d certainly never taken
her
to a game. “He did?”
“Yeah.” He smiled at the memory. “They won, too. Then he dumped me in a tough school designed for... troubled kids.”
“And for really smart ones, too, I’ll bet.”
Joseph’s head jerked up, his eyes hot and defensive. “Yeah,” he said finally, as though it was a hard thing to admit.
Now it made sense, all too well. She knew how attractive a homeless, orphaned, incredibly brilliant
boy
would have been to her father. Especially when all he’d gotten was a weak, not so smart female. Resentment hit, only to be beaten back by shame.
What would have happened to Joe if her father hadn’t intervened?
“He came for me every weekend, which at first really ticked me off,” Joe admitted. “But he stuck with me until the end.” He met her gaze unwaveringly. “He saved my life, princess. I owe him everything, and in return, I’d do anything for him.”
Including putting up with a secretary he didn’t want. Suddenly feeling a little sick and unbearably lonely even in the middle of a crowded restaurant, Caitlin set down her fork and tried to ignore the tightness in her chest. How pathetic her poor-little-rich-girl story would seem to him. “What happened to your mother?”

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