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Who's the Boss? & Her Perfect Stranger: Who's The Boss? / Her Perfect Stranger
Jill Shalvis
In these two fan-favorite stories from New York Times bestselling author Jill Shalvis, there's more happening in the office than just work!Who's the Boss?Having inherited nothing but a stack of bills, Caitlin Taylor is a poor little rich girl. Thank goodness she's got a new job. Right away though, it's obvious she and her gorgeous boss, Joe Brownley, have very different ideas about her role! One thing they do agree on is that the attraction between them is best explored after hours….Her Perfect StrangerFor only one night, Commander Corrine Atkinson lets go of her iron control and seduces a sexy stranger. Come morning, she sneaks out of his bed and gets back to her own life. Too bad her perfect stranger turns out to be Mike Wright—the newest member of the team she's commanding. And spending all day together reminds Corrine how good they are at night!


In these two fan-favorite stories from New York Times bestselling author Jill Shalvis, there’s more happening in the office than just work!
Who’s the Boss?
Having inherited nothing but a stack of bills, Caitlin Taylor is a poor little rich girl. Thank goodness she’s got a new job. Right away though, it’s obvious she and her gorgeous boss, Joe Brownley, have very different ideas about her role! One thing they do agree on is that the attraction between them is best explored after hours….
Her Perfect Stranger
For only one night, Commander Corrine Atkinson lets go of her iron control and seduces a sexy stranger. Come morning, she sneaks out of his bed and gets back to her own life. Too bad her perfect stranger turns out to be Mike Wright—the newest member of the team she’s commanding. And spending all day together reminds Corrine how good they are at night!
JILL SHALVIS
New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Jill Shalvis is an award-winning author of over four dozen romance novels. Among her awards are the National Reader’s Choice and the prestigious RITA® Award. Visit www.jillshalvis.com (http://www.jillshalvis.com) for a complete book list and a daily blog chronicling her I-Love-Lucy attempts at having it all: the writing, the kids, a life….

Who’s the Boss? & Her Perfect Stranger
Jill Shalvis







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CONTENTS
WHO’S THE BOSS? (#u077dafe5-0f17-5b60-b385-f82de42bbbf0)
Dedication (#u774655b3-a543-5bcf-921d-1c1a56ed6e2c)
Chapter 1 (#u72034600-af14-5312-9a6e-a8535b05e873)
Chapter 2 (#u98541865-feb0-58f1-b34c-652966525548)
Chapter 3 (#u4b556d1e-2bfb-5dae-bb5f-476365436003)
Chapter 4 (#uab10c518-fdf9-5f49-85e3-50e23db62314)
Chapter 5 (#uca2925b5-7ed5-58a7-a46d-746459925550)
Chapter 6 (#u297e00ed-9e65-5a21-8b0d-092685434bd2)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
HER PERFECT STRANGER (#litres_trial_promo)
Dedication (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 2 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 3 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Who’s the Boss?
Jill Shalvis
To good bosses everywhere, especially mine—D. S. Builders.
You’re the best.

1
“A JOB,” CAITLIN TAYLOR muttered for the hundredth time. She paused from straightening her silk stockings to roll her eyes upward with a wry grimace. “I hope you and God are having a good laugh, Dad. You certainly got the last one on me.”
Her heart ached as it had all month, ever since her father had unexpectedly passed away from kidney failure.
It might have hurt a little less, she admitted, if he hadn’t given away his fortune to everyone but his own daughter. Instead, he’d left her…a job.
At least he’d done that. In her ice-blue satin lingerie, she faced the full-length mirror. Her reflection wavered as fear gripped her, but she had no illusions. Her naturally wavy blond bob, no matter how she combed it, made her look as if she’d just climbed out of bed. Her overly curvaceous body refused to be tamed by exercise. This morning, her deep brown eyes were heavy from lack of sleep, and already carefully accented with liner and mascara. She looked like a young, beautiful woman with the world at her fingertips.
If only it were true.
Caitlin gave a half laugh and shoved back the unaccustomed fear and panic.
She’d never held a job in her life. Her father had spoiled his only child. In all her twenty-four years, she had only a handful of memories of him, mostly due to his heavy traveling and prominent social schedule. Still, as her only family, he’d made sure her every material need had been met. Fashion had been her first love, and he’d given in to it. Milan, Paris, New York, Los Angeles…she knew these places intimately; they were her playgrounds. She’d gone to designing school in Paris and New York, both on her father’s bank account, but the truth was, she wasn’t talented enough to make it in that cutthroat world. Since then she hadn’t been idle—far from it, for organizing society events was a particular talent of hers, even if it didn’t count as a job, or earn her money.
Her father had kept her in style, making sure she had a healthy monthly allowance deposited directly into her account.
That had stopped abruptly with his death, and grief had been forced to take a backseat to survival.
With every credit card her father had ever given her maxed out, less than one month’s rent in her bank account and no more allowance, Caitlin faced serious trouble. Enough trouble, she’d finally admitted to herself, that she’d have to swallow her pride and take the poor-paying job she’d been left in her father’s will.
“A clerical position,” Caitlin said with another humorless laugh that didn’t quite cover up her confusion and pain. “And me not knowing the difference between a fax machine and a scanner.”
She walked to her brimming wall-length closet and sighed, knowing that by this time next month she would be living in some dismal little apartment. Bye-bye southern-California beachfront condo. Again, her heart leaped at the betrayal of her father’s abrupt desertion. Why? she wondered frantically. Why would her father indulge and spoil her all her life, then desert her this way? She didn’t understand, but wallowing was getting her nowhere.
With effort, she shrugged into the devil-may-care persona she showed the world. What did one wear for a job that required an eight-o’clock showing? But while she dressed, her thoughts continually drifted back to the burning questions—why had her father pawned her off on some little subsidiary of what had once been a huge engineering conglomerate? A conglomerate split up by his will, all the pieces going to different investors who’d been his close friends.
Friends had rated higher than his own daughter.
Now Caitlin was slated to work for some pencil-laden, calculator-carrying engineer nerd named Joseph Brownley. Because he’d worked with her father for years, she imagined him as old, crusty, tough. Mean.
Shuddering, she slipped into what she hoped looked businesslike enough—a short red crepe de chine suit. The pumps she added gave her an extra three and a half inches, and some badly needed self-confidence. She wanted to look sophisticated. Polished. But while she seemed to be able to fool everyone else, she couldn’t pull the wool over her own eyes. She looked flighty, ditzy and wild, which sent her back to the bathroom in another attempt to tame her hair with ruthless brush strokes and styling spritz.
She could do this. But for one weak moment, she sank to the bed. Could she? Could she do anything but organize parties for the rich and famous? And how hard would it really be to charge for those services?
Hard, she admitted.
So hard she’d rather do this…work in an office.
But could she really survive on her own?
Swallowing back a sudden sob, Caitlin lifted her chin and forced a bright smile. Her knees trembled as she stood, but she stiffened them and lifted her chin. She had no place in her life for pathetic self-pity or fear, only determination.
The outfit didn’t work.
Too showy, she decided with a hasty glance at her slim gold watch. She ripped off the suit to try again, tossing it carelessly aside. No telling what Mr. Brownley thought of tardiness, but if he fired her before she’d even started, she’d really be in trouble. And with her only true working talent being that she could navigate the mazed streets of any garment district blindfolded, who else in his right mind would hire her?
Coming to yet another abrupt halt in front of her mirror, she took a tough, no-holds-barred look at herself. Snug, cropped frost-blue sweater over a long, flowing flowery skirt. Heels, of course—she never went anywhere without heels. But too casual, darn it! She added a muted linen jacket and hoped for the best. As she ran to her car, huffing and puffing from the exertion of the morning, she grumbled about the unearthly hour.
God, she hated mornings.
She thrust her little BMW into gear, leaving her exclusive Newport Beach neighborhood hours before she normally even stirred from her bed. As she hit the packed 405 freeway, she realized her first mistake in allowing only thirty minutes to get from the beach to downtown Irvine. It seemed the entire population of southern California started work at the same time, and given that she was cut off three times before she even hit the first on-ramp, apparently everyone was just as irritable and late as she.
At the interchange, no one would let her over. Frustrated, she tried one of her flirtatious winks and got…a very rude hand gesture.
Did normal people do this every day?
The thought made her shudder. Yes, she was sheltered, but she had friends who worked. No, she didn’t, she reminded herself. Hadn’t she learned that in the past few weeks, as one by one, her so-called friends had ditched her when the terms of her father’s will became public?
She was alone, truly alone, for the first time in her entire existence.
And she was going to be very late. No big surprise, of course. Her father had always claimed she’d be late for her own funeral. She’d certainly been late for his, but that had been because the limo she’d counted on all her life had vanished. Repossessed. By the time she’d driven herself, she’d missed the entire service. She knew her father wouldn’t have been surprised, but she had a feeling being late today was a luxury she couldn’t afford.
This little bubble of stress sitting uncomfortably in her belly was new and entirely unwelcome. So was the apprehension about her future, and the lingering, gnawing wound of her father turning his back on her.
She came to a grinding halt in the fast lane, surrounded by thousands of other idling cars. Never one to obsess about anything, she couldn’t believe she’d been doing just that all morning.
Shaking her head, she cranked up the music, sat back to wait out the traffic and cleared her mind.
* * *
JOE’S FINGERS FLEW over the keyboard. Deep in concentration, he’d been working for hours, but he couldn’t stop now. He was so close, so very close, to getting it right.
“Joe.”
Vaguely, he heard a female voice calling him, and just as vaguely, he knew it was Darla.
He ignored her.
All those years, he’d had to work on hardware, designing computers for his bread and butter…but no more. Now, with Edmund Taylor’s generosity in death—Joe’s heart squeezed at the reminder—he could work on his first love. Software. And he was inches away from perfecting the system he envisioned revolutionizing every office in the country.
“Joe.”
Just another few minutes, he thought, stretching cramped legs that were far too long to be shoved beneath a desk for so many hours. A few more minutes and things might click into place. He could almost hear the big software companies knocking at his door. Bill Gates, eat your heart out.
“Joe? Yoo-hoo…”
Without taking his eyes off the keyboard, he growled, waving one hand wildly over his shoulder, his usual sign for Leave me the hell alone! With the ease only the hyperfocused can achieve, he sank back into his thoughts. Just put that command here instead of over there—
“I’m sorry, Joe.”
“No problem,” he murmured automatically, not looking up. Why had he chosen to work in the front office, instead of his own down the hall, which would have given him more privacy?
Because he’d been in a rush, that’s why. Always in a rush. “Go away.”
“Joe,” said a now laughing Darla. “Could you please look at me?”
With a sigh, he straightened, biting back his impatience. He shoved his fingers through already unruly hair and took his gaze off the screen long enough to glare at the only person who would dare interrupt him. “What? What do you want?”
Darla smiled sweetly. “Lovely to see you, too.”
“Great. Nice. Now go away.” He’d already turned back to the computer when she spoke again.
“Joe, could you focus those baby blues this way for just another minute? Pretty please?”
“I’m really busy,” he said evenly, through his teeth. His fingers itched to get back to the keyboard.
“But—”
“This,” he announced, “is why I need an assistant. To keep people out.”
“You couldn’t keep an assistant,” Darla told him, gesturing to the cluttered office, which admittedly looked as though World War III had gone off in it. Papers were everywhere. So were books, files and an entire city of computer parts. “No one but those other crazy computer programmers you’ve got back there wants to work for a perfectionist, a workaholic, a technical—”
“Why are you here? Just tell me that much,” he begged, resting his fingers on the keyboard and eyeing the screen longingly.
“Oh, wipe that frown off your pretty face—I’m not here to bug you for your tax info. Yet.”
Darla’s insulted scowl worked, and Joe laughed. As the only accountant in their small building, the tall, waiflike Italian beauty had taken on all of the other four businesses in the place, his included. Besides handling most of their bookkeeping, she dished out unwanted advice, unsolicited sisterly affection and more than a few good dirty jokes. “And what could be more important than tax stuff?” he teased, and resigned himself to a break.
“Not much.” She grinned, too, making her look much younger than her thirty years. “But remember that assistant you were just mentioning? I think she’s arrived. I saw her roaming around downstairs, scrutinizing the different suites and the business names on the front board as if she had no idea where she’s going.”
“I didn’t hire an assistant.”
“You told me Edmund wrote off his investment in this company, making it effectively yours—as long as you guaranteed his pathetically spoiled daughter a job.”
“Yeah.” Joe rubbed his hand over his chest at the twist of pain. Edmund, gone. Forever.
At the thought of Edmund’s daughter, whom he’d never met, his usually receptive heart hardened. “She never even bothered to show up for her own father’s funeral.” He tried to remember what Edmund had told him about her. A flightly clotheshorse. A party girl. A world traveler—on her daddy’s budget, of course.
Nothing particularly flattering.
“Whoever you saw couldn’t be her,” he stated. “A software company that has yet to prove itself has nothing to offer a socialite.”
Darla shrugged. “Maybe not. But Marilyn Monroe’s here.” She sniffed and gave him a haughty glance that he had no trouble deciphering.
Joe wasn’t ashamed to admit he’d had more than his fair share of women flit in and out of his life, and his good friend Darla had hated most of them. But nothing got her goat more than a blond bombshell. “She looks like Marilyn Monroe?” he asked, unable to contain his wide grin when Darla rolled her eyes. “Really?”
“Barbie meets Baywatch, actually,” she snapped, making him laugh. Darla snorted in disgust. “What is it about that blond, wide-eyed, come-hither look that renders a man so stupid?”
“Ahh…a come-hither look?”
She glowered and straightened, her considerable height accentuating her thinness. “And she’s got huge—”
“Darla,” he said, still grinning as he cut her off. “She’s not looking for me—she couldn’t be. No way would Edmund’s daughter show up.” He hadn’t read all of Edmund’s book-length will, hadn’t been able to bring himself to even open the five-inch-thick file that had been sent to him by Edmund’s attorney, but he imagined Caitlin Taylor had gotten a very nice chunk of change. She’d have no need for a job.
He glanced at his watch. “And anyway, it’s ten o’clock. What kind of an assistant would start work this late?” He happily gave his computer his full attention. “Now go away and let me be.”
“Okay…but you asked for it.”
Breathing a sigh of relief when she was gone, Joe looked at his screen with anticipation. Now he’d get some work done.
He’d simply kill the next person who interrupted him, he decided, and promptly forgot about everything except what he was doing.
In the back of his mind whirled the vision of his program up and running. And for once, thanks to Edmund, that dream was obtainable.
“Ahem.”
Not again! He needed a weapon. Yeah, that was it. A squirt gun, maybe, or a—“Excuse me.”
“If the place isn’t burning down,” he growled, “then I don’t—” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her; words vanished from his brain. She was petite, luscious and one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. She smiled and his tongue actually went dry.
“Hi,” she said, wiggling her fingers at him.
Trailing behind her, gawking with their collective mouths hanging open, were Vince, Andy and Tim, his three techs. At the moment, they resembled Larry, Curly and Moe. He sent them looks loaded with daggers, and they slunk back, closing the door behind him.
“I’m looking for Mr. Brownley,” the exotic creature said in a sweet, musical voice. “I’m Caitlin Taylor.”
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 lifestyle 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 hard-earned dollar, and Joe never worked with anyone he didn’t one hundred percent respect. Never.
“This is CompuSoft, 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 self-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 kind 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 front-counter 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 smart-ass 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 door. “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.
Well, he’d been partially successful, she thought. She didn’t like him, but she wouldn’t run off because of it.
“Last door on the left is my office,” Joe said gruffly, stepping into the hallway to point it out. “I hate to be interrupted, so stay out.” He looked at her expectantly then, a little hopefully. Maybe she’d still run off if he were boorish enough?
As if she’d read his mind, she laughed at him. Laughed. The unexpected sweet sound had Joseph’s stomach muscles tensing.
“Are you waiting for me to cower from such a fierce command?” She shook her head, her short blond bob flying. Her flowery fragrance wafted up, assaulting his nostrils, annoying him because she smelled so damn good he found himself straining for another sniff. “Or maybe, better yet, you think I’ll run off with my tail between my legs.”
Her words put a vivid picture in his mind of what was between her legs.
“Should I remind you whose daughter I am?” she asked, breaking into his startling sensual thoughts.
Her father had backed down to no one. “I know whose daughter you are.”
“Good. And I don’t frighten easily.”
Mad at her, at his techs and at himself, he stalked back into the front office.
“Clearly,” she muttered, “I’m to follow you.”
Why today? he wondered helplessly. Why, when he was so damn close to finishing his program, did he have to deal with this? With a quick glance upward, he grimaced. Thanks, Edmund. Hope you’re getting a kick out of this.
Caitlin passed him in the hallway. “Maybe I would be better off at Del Taco.”
He watched as she sashayed prettily into the main office, her hips swinging in tune to his undisciplined hormones. “I’ll give you a lift to the nearest one.” Then, to soften the words he realized were unkind, he offered the sweetest smile he could.
She shook her head. “Well, I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”
Her mouth was pouty, lusciously red, and the most inane thought popped into his head.
She must taste like heaven.
The woman was a blond bombshell, with a complete lack of work ethic, designed to torture him. And yet he couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d look like spread across his desk wearing one of those come-hither looks.
“So…how many employees do you have here?” she wondered aloud, interrupting his erotically charged thoughts.
“Besides the three idiots you’ve already met, just me.”
“And now me,” Caitlin added.
“I’m doing my best to change that.”
Ah, sarcasm. Well, she could understand that. The way he kept his big body so tense, she imagined he was quite uncomfortable. Most men, in her experience, fought unease with a sort of bearish aggression. Her father had been the king of that act, though he’d never used it on her, and she imagined this Mr. Brownley wasn’t much different. “I’m sticking, Mr. Brownley.”
“So you’ve said.”
Her bravado was quickly taking a beating in the face of his stubbornness. Before she caved in completely, she tried small talk. “I thought CompuSoft was huge. According to my father, this place was the future of progressive software.”
Incredibly, Joseph’s eyes softened. His attitude vanished. “He said that?”
It was obviously an illusion that he suddenly appeared so vulnerable. He was about as vulnerable as a starving black bear waking from hibernation. “He was quite proud of this place.”
His throat worked. His voice sounded hushed, almost reverent. “I take that as a huge compliment.”
Her father never complimented lightly, and just thinking about him hurt when she was tired of hurting. He’d rarely complimented her. To combat the thought, she desperately continued her one-sided conversation. “How could you have only the four of you here?”
“This is no longer the huge corporation it was under your father. We’ve been siphoned off, separated from all his other various businesses. We’re on our own, just a few of us designing and supporting software.” He gave her that impenetrable stare again. “You didn’t get a copy of the will?”
Caitlin noticed that whenever he mentioned her father, he watched her carefully. But she could hear his thick disapproval, and her stomach tightened in response to the unfamiliar stress purling through her.
If he only knew how she’d pored over that darn will, wondering what had happened to her nice, cozy life.
If only he had a clue as to how lost she felt in this new, unsafe world, or how much resentment for her father she harbored deep down in her heart.
“Yes,” she managed to answer with her usual cheekiness, refusing to let him get to her. “I got it.”
“If the terms were too difficult to comprehend,” he said slowly, finally succeeding in stirring her rare temper, “you should have asked someone to explain it to you.”
“Contrary to what you must believe about me, I do understand the written word.”
“All of your father’s companies were divested. CompuSoft was half-mine to start with, so he simply willed me the other half.”
Her father could give this man half a company, just hand it over, and he couldn’t leave her a penny. Couldn’t leave her anything but a measly job with a man who couldn’t abide her. It took every ounce of common courtesy she had not to resent Joe Brownley for this.
Well, okay, that was a big fat lie. She did resent him. A lot. “Nice of him.”
“Nice?” He missed the sarcasm and let out a short laugh that seemed harsh. “It was incredible. The most generous thing anyone’s ever done for me—” He stopped abruptly, stared at her. “I have no idea why I’m telling you this.”
She didn’t, either. It hurt unbelievably to know her father had thought so little of his own flesh and blood that he’d left this man more than he had his only child. “Where do I start?”
“So you’re staying, then?”
“Yes.”
He sighed. “Fine. This is the reception desk.” He gestured behind him to a wide desk facing the entrance. At least, she assumed it was a desk; all she could see were stacks and stacks of paperwork, files, various computer parts and what looked like an old, forgotten take-out food bag.
“All you have to do is come in on time, which around here is eight o’clock, and answer the occasional phone.” He sent her a long look. “Can you do that?”
“Hmm. I think I can manage.” She was really going to have to teach him a thing or two about manners. As for the ungodly hour, she’d have to work on it. “Surely you have more needs than just answering your phone.”
His light eyes darkened. His mouth curved, making her blink in surprise. Sullen, the man had been beyond handsome. Smiling, he was stunningly gorgeous.
“I don’t think you want to hear about my needs.”
No. No, she didn’t, Caitlin decided as her heart took off running. “Probably not.”
Slowly, he ran his gaze down the length of her, then back up. When he met her eyes with his, an unmistakable heat radiated from them. Caitlin had been on the receiving end of looks like that ever since she’d grown breasts, so she’d long ago learned to tune them out. Yet now, under Joe Brownley’s suddenly hot gaze, as unbelievable as it seemed, she felt herself blush. “Something wrong with my attire?”
“Yeah,” he said in that low, disturbingly sexy voice. “In this office, you’ll need something a little…more.”
She’d known it! Her clothes were all wrong. “More?”
“Shapeless. Like a potato sack.”
She laughed. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in a potato sack.”
“You’re distracting.”
“Your techs were refreshing and charming. I don’t think I’ll have a problem here with them.”
He turned and started back down the hall, his long legs churning up the distance in just a few strides. “I wasn’t talking about the Three Stooges, princess,” he called back.
Oh.
Oh.

3
THE BUILDING THAT housed CompuSoft was small for downtown, Caitlin thought. But it was brick and glass and strangely cozy.
There was a small coffee stand on the lobby floor, complete with doughnuts, croissants and mouthwatering pastries. Caitlin couldn’t resist stopping there before getting on the elevator, if only to drool.
After all, if she had to suffer mornings, then she needed junk food.
A lovely brunette woman, about Caitlin’s age, wearing an apron and a harassed smile came up to her. “Can I help you?”
Caitlin thought of her last dollar drowning in the bottom of her purse. “How much is that chocolate thingie over there, last one on the row?”
“In calories or cents?”
Caitlin laughed. “Either way, I’m sure it’s too expensive. Besides, I shouldn’t. Oh, man, I really shouldn’t.” Ruefully, she tapped her curvy hips.
The woman let out a reluctant smile, which softened her entire face. Her green eyes sparkled with life that hadn’t been there before. “This is what I tell myself every morning.”
Caitlin eyed her spectacular figure—all willowy and slim. “How many do you eat?” she asked doubtfully.
She shrugged. “Depends on how rude the customers are, which varies. The more annoying jerks I serve, the more I eat.”
Caitlin sighed and thought of Joe. “I’m afraid if I stopped here every time my boss annoyed me, I’d be busting out of my clothes in a week.”
The woman laughed now, and gave Caitlin a much more genuine smile. “You’re new here. I’m Amy.”
“I’m Caitlin.” She dug into her purse to appease her rumbling stomach, and accepted the huge chocolate pastry.
Amy grinned, removed her apron and grabbed a pastry for herself. “Just in case the crowd gets crazy later, I’ll take my break now.”
They pigged out together.
* * *
BY THE TIME he got to his office the next morning, Joe was high on adrenaline, his mind racing ahead, thinking about his software program.
With a little luck, he figured he could make real headway today, if he got in the good ten to twelve hours he needed.
As previously arranged, he had first stopped at one of the local banks to meet with a loan officer, hoping to start the preapproval process. He wanted to be prepared when his program was complete, so he could properly promote and sell it. To do that, he’d need money—a lot of it.
Despite the hassles ahead, he grinned and silently thanked Edmund for the thousandth time. Without the old man’s generosity in deeding him CompuSoft, Joe wouldn’t even be thinking about this for himself. Edmund had provided the means for Joe to spend the time needed to work on his program. With Edmund’s death, that could have all ended for Joe, but it hadn’t.
It was a dream come true.
Whether it was just his own bad luck or his unique ability to actually forget absolutely everything but his work, he entered his office and, completely unprepared, stared stupefied at the front desk.
It had been cleaned off, or rather cleared off—everything was on the floor. Amazing piles of important-looking stuff surrounded the base of the desk.
As he took a step into the chaotic room, he tripped and nearly fell flat on his face—over a pair of ruby-red four-inch pumps.
Empty pumps, he noted.
Which would explain the barefoot woman on all fours, facing away from him, affording him the best view he’d seen all morning. Apparently, both Tim and Andy felt the same way, because the two techs, who normally couldn’t be budged from their computers, were on the floor, as well, making neat little stacks of God only knew what.
Caitlin’s head popped up when he shut the door behind him, and she craned her neck around from where she’d been pulling out more stacks of paperwork from beneath her desk.
Hard as it was to imagine, Joe had completely forgotten about his new secretary.
“Good morning,” she said in a sexy, cheerful voice that reminded him he still needed a cup of coffee.
Badly.
Tim and Andy leaped to their feet, faces red.
“Hey, Joe,” Andy said quickly, sticking his hands in his jean pockets. “How’d it go at the bank?”
“It wasn’t as exciting as it appears to have been here.” Joe lifted a brow as Caitlin stretched her lush, petite body as far as it would reach to get a file that had been shoved beneath the far corner of her desk.
Tim’s and Andy’s jaws dropped open at the sight, but Joe could hardly blame them. He couldn’t remember ever seeing a finer looking rear end.
And he’d seen his fair share.
But his quick surge of lust, coming on the heels of forgetting about his new secretary—whom he hadn’t wanted in the first place—only further annoyed him. Already half the morning was gone, and by the looks of things nothing had been accomplished except for a shifting of the mess from the front desk to the floor.
He sighed.
Hadn’t he known this would happen if he kept her?
And dammit, hadn’t he asked her to wear something to hide that body?
Women, like his work, received his full attention. But they were also simply a diversion—a pleasant one, but temporary nonetheless.
It had to be that way.
He’d grown up in emotional chaos. Painful emotional chaos. That’s what personal attachments did. Chopped up the heart and spit it back out. Brought nothing but the opportunity for hurt. With hurt came weakness, and he couldn’t allow that.
He relied on himself, and that was it. He’d been remarkably relationship free. By choice. And any entanglements he’d enjoyed had been short but sweet.
An involvement with a co-worker couldn’t be temporary, couldn’t be short and sweet and therefore couldn’t be contemplated. No matter how fine the…assets.
To prove it, he purposely turned his gaze away from the incredible sight before him.
Tim and Andy still stood there stupidly, gawking like teenagers. Joe opened his mouth to bark at them, but Vince appeared in the doorway, glasses on his nose, disk in hand.
“Guys,” Vince said sternly. “You came out here to check on Caitlin half an hour ago. What’s going on—” He broke off at the sight that had rendered both Tim and Andy and then Joe speechless. Carefully, he closed his mouth. Then he glanced at Joe, both amusement and irritation swimming in his gaze.
Joe jerked his head sharply, and Vince nodded. “Tim, Andy, let’s hit it.”
Joe sighed when they disappeared and wondered exactly how long it would be before the socialite decided she didn’t want to play at working anymore.
Hopefully very soon.
“Well, I beat you in,” Caitlin announced, obviously expecting a medal.
“You should,” he said, watching her wiggle up to her knees in the tightest, shortest, reddest skirt he’d ever seen. How had she gotten into that thing? “It’s ten o’clock. What the hell are you doing?”
“Filing.” She slapped her hands together to rid them of dust. “This place is a disaster. Don’t you ever clean?”
“No, and I knew where everything is…was,” he protested, trying not to panic.
“It’ll be better,” she promised him. “You’ll see.”
He doubted that and was about to tell her so but his phone rang. He watched, fascinated, as Caitlin stood and yanked down the short little jacket that matched her siren-red skirt before scooping up the receiver. “Hello?” Quickly, she covered the mouthpiece and batted her warm brown eyes at Joe. “Should I tell them this is CompuSoft?” she asked in a loud whisper. “Or is that redundant, do you think, since they called us and they most likely know who it is they dialed?” She bit her full, red bottom lip in indecision.
“Just find out who it is,” Joe suggested through his teeth. “That might be a good place to start.”
She nodded quite seriously and turned back to the phone. “Yes, who is this, please?” Her brow creased in concentration. Her hair settled around her flushed face. Then she lit up with the most dazzling smile Joe had ever seen. “Oh, isn’t that sweet of you,” she gushed. “I’m sure he’d love that, yes. Thanks so much.” She hung up the phone and dropped back to her knees amid the mess she’d created all over his floor.
Joe found himself once again staring at her very cute wriggling butt. “Caitlin.” His voice came out slightly strangled, and he had no idea if it were irritation or something more basic, such as his own software became hardware.
She stopped wriggling and smiled at him. “Yes, Mr. Brownley?”
He knew for a damn fact she was only eight years younger than him and she was calling him mister. “Joe.”
“Okay. Joe.” She turned back to whatever the hell it was she thought she was doing.
“Who was on the phone?” he demanded.
“Oh. AT&T.” She sent him that same dazzling smile, the one that did funny things to his knees. “They’re going to send you a one-hundred-dollar credit for switching to their service for a trial period of two weeks. Isn’t that sweet of them? Though you probably shouldn’t have left them in the first place. I understand from that nice operator I just spoke with they have the best prices in the country.”
Joe closed his eyes briefly and reminded himself that though he relied only on himself, rarely allowing another into his life, he had loved Edmund. He owed the man, and this woman—this crazy, out-of-control, messy woman—was his debt. “I’ll be in my office,” he managed to say finally.
She sent him a vague smile from where she was shuffling papers—his papers—around. “No problem.”
As he turned to go, he tripped over her pumps, again.
* * *
SHE COULD DO THIS, Caitlin told herself. No problem. She’d gone through most of her life figuring things out by herself. She’d dealt with the death of her mother all those years ago. She’d dealt with traveling alone, celebrating holidays alone, generally being completely alone.
She could certainly answer a few phones and straighten up an office, especially since she didn’t have much choice.
The bills had to be paid. She’d come home the night before to several messages from credit collectors.
They were getting nasty.
The phones had been blissfully quiet for a while. So had the men, though they were checking on her often, which brought a smile. They were so sweet.
Except for Joe. No one in their right mind would call that powerfully built thug, masquerading as a mild-mannered computer geek, sweet.
She headed down the hallway to the small lunchroom, which held a refrigerator, a microwave, a sink and counter and a small table with chairs.
She glanced at the coffee machine and grimaced. Empty, of course. It would never occur to whoever had taken the last cup to make more. Automatically, her hostess skills leaping to life, she made the coffee. Then, because the room was disgusting, she cleaned it. Maybe, she thought as she scrubbed, she’d been looking at this all wrong. She was an organizer, and these men certainly needed her.
Needed her.
The mere idea stopped her cold. And warmed her heart. No one had ever needed her before.
“How’s it going?”
Caitlin, her eyes still misty, smiled at Vince as he came in. “Good.” She finished with the sponge on the counter and started sweeping.
“Really?” He didn’t look convinced; he looked worried. “I should congratulate you. You made it past the dreaded two-hour mark without quitting.”
She thought of her late car payments. Of her rent, which was late, as well. She tried not to think of the stack of bills she’d filed away under her kitchen sink so she wouldn’t have to look at them. “Oh, I’m not going to quit,” she said with certainty.
“Well, that’s a relief. You’re like a ray of sunshine around here.”
Caitlin glanced quickly at him, trying to decide if that had been a come-on. She’d become a pro at spotting them since she’d gotten curves at the tender age of twelve. But Vince simply smiled kindly. With that shock of deep red hair and Clark Kent–type glasses slipping down his nose, he was really kind of cute.
But Caitlin had decided long ago, the cute ones were rarely harmless. “That’s me, just a ray of sunshine. I’m so bright you need sunglasses to look at me.”
Vince laughed, but didn’t make a move to come closer. Unbearably relieved to find someone genuinely nice, Caitlin relaxed. “Is it always so…uptight around here?” She graduated back to the sponge and wiped down the table that had an inch of grime on it.
“You mean Joe.” Vince shook his head and leaned back against the sink, watching her clean with fascination. “He’s just preoccupied. Ignore him. It’s the best way.” He frowned. “He didn’t hurt your feelings, I hope, because he would hate that. He just doesn’t have a wide focus. Work is pretty much all he concentrates on, and he really hates it when things get in the way of that.”
“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 clung 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
LUNCH 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 gangbanger for hustling him.”
“Were you the twelve-year-old or the gangbanger?”
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?”
He chugged down his water and attacked the basket of bread sticks. “She lives in Vegas. Waitresses occasionally.”
“And the others? Your brothers and sisters?”
His blue eyes became shuttered, and she imagined he masked pain and loneliness. “Scattered around.” His gaze dropped to the bread he held, which he then polished off in one bite.
She learned far more about Joe by watching his eyes than listening to his words. His eyes were much more expressive than he could possibly know. “Do you ever see them?”
“They’re all busy with their own lives. My mother calls me once in a while.”
Caitlin swallowed hard, hurting for the boy who’d grown up too fast. Who’d learned to count only on himself. “You support her, don’t you?”
He stirred, clearly uncomfortable. “Maybe.”
“Why is it so hard to admit you help her?”
“Why is it so hard for you to understand that most people don’t like their lives to be an open book?”
She was beginning to realize the man was all bark, no bite. He liked his distance. Too bad she didn’t do the distance thing so well.
Joe fell silent as he continued to feed himself with obvious relish, making Caitlin wonder where he put all the food. He certainly didn’t have a spare ounce of fat on him. She glanced up, and caught the curious gazes of Vince, Tim and Andy from across the room. The twins grinned at her. Vince’s smile was more subdued, worried.
Sweet, she thought. And chicken. She stuck her tongue out at them, and they laughed.
Joe polished off his plate and glanced at hers. “Are you going to finish?”
If she drew a deep breath, she’d pop the button on her tight skirt. “No.” He continued to gaze longingly at the lasagna left on her plate. Laughing, she pushed it toward him, then watched in amazement as he finished it off.
“To be honest,” Joe told her when he’d finally filled himself. “I never thought you’d actually take the job.”
Here it comes, she thought. His scorn. And after learning about him and his past, she knew she deserved every bit of it. She took a deep breath. “I need this job.”
“Right.”
“It’s true. I’m deeply in debt, and without the income, meager as it is, I’ll be homeless and on the streets just like you once were.”
He stared at her. “No way.”
“Yes way.” She played with her water glass. “Those assets you spoke of that first day, my car and my place, they haven’t been paid for. As you know, they’re far out of my league with what you’re paying me. I’m flat broke.”
“What about the will?”
“What about it? I got nothing.”
“Then why did Edmund stipulate such a low salary? He was the most generous man I know.”
She shrugged, even managed a light smile, but Joe wasn’t fooled. Pain blazed from her eyes.
“Maybe he just didn’t realize?” he suggested.
“Whether he realized or not doesn’t matter,” she said. “The sorry truth is, this job is all I have, and I desperately need it. I know you hate it, Joe, and to tell you the truth, so do I. There’s just not much choice in the matter at the moment.”
Dammit. Dammit all to hell. He didn’t want to feel this quick, inexplicable tug of concern, of protectiveness, shame because he’d gotten from Edmund what his own daughter hadn’t. “He didn’t mean to hurt you.” He could bank on that.
“You think so?” She lifted those huge, liquid eyes to his. “Even when I’m a spoiled princess? Always had the world at my fingertips? Isn’t that what you’ve thought all along?” She smiled humorlessly at his wince. “But you know what? All I really wanted was his time. How’s that for spoiled? He had you, though, and that was all he needed.”
Lunch lodged in his throat. “I gather you weren’t close.”
“Don’t pretend that you two didn’t talk about me. I know what he thought of my lifestyle.”
How to tell her that Edmund had rarely spoken of her at all, and only at the very end? Clearly, he didn’t have to tell her; she’d looked at his face and seen the truth.
“I must seem double pathetic now.”
“No,” he said, leaning close, disturbed by that protectiveness he felt. “Caitlin…”
“Don’t apologize for him. It was my fault, too. I didn’t see him much because of our respective business schedules. And don’t,” she said quickly, raising a hand. “Don’t make some crack about poor little socialite me. If you’re thinking I had it pretty good, you’re right. I did. I never had to live on the streets, fighting for my life, and I certainly never went hungry or without clothes. But I also never had what I really wanted, which was someone to tell me they loved me.”
Joe hadn’t thought, hadn’t wondered…all those times he and Edmund spent together, he had never thought to ask about Edmund’s daughter, or where she was. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, well aware of the inadequacy of those words.
“Don’t be sorry for me.” She tucked a loose wave of hair behind her ear and gave him a look from beneath lowered lashes that he couldn’t quite read. “I’m just glad I still have a job.”
He looked at the woman who had cheerfully and without complaint thrown herself wholeheartedly into a job that had been forced on her. She’d genuinely tried hard, even when out of her element. She’d given it her all.
Damn. He pulled his thoughts up short. He’d done it again. Just one bright, open smile and he’d folded. One bat of those long lashes and he was willing to forget that he could hardly tolerate her. Purposefully, he hardened himself. “All I need you to do is answer the phones, Caitlin. Nothing else. Just the phones,” he said, leaning forward to make his point, grabbing her hand when she ignored him. He thought of how his office looked once she’d started to organize it. “Promise me.”
Her voice filled with wounded pride, she countered, “I can do more, far more, if you’d teach me.”
The waitress saved him from replying, and he was grateful. She tactfully set down their bill almost in the center of the table, but slightly closer to Joe.
He picked up the slip, reaching for his wallet and scanning the balance at the same time. “Eighteen-fifty,” he muttered to himself. “With a tip that’s—”
“Two dollars and seventy-eight cents,” Caitlin whispered politely, leaning forward discreetly. “But leave three-seventy instead.”
“What?”
“Twenty percent.” Caitlin was leaning close enough to daze him with that light, sexy scent she wore. “You should leave twenty percent since we got such great service.” She opened her purse and he put a hand over hers, halting her.
“Wait a minute.” He shook his head to clear it, then gazed back into guileless eyes the color of milk chocolate. “Are you telling me you can multiply in your head like that, instantly?”
Caitlin flashed him a self-conscious smile. “Uh…yes. I’m sorta good with numbers. Big ones.” She shrugged. “It’s a semi-useless talent.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Well, it does come in handy when I’m shopping in Mexico City and trying to figure out the exchange rate.”
Again he shook his head, counting out bills.
“Twenty-two dollars and twenty cents,” she said helpfully.
“Amazing,” he said, dropping the cash in the tray and handing it up to the waiting server.
Caitlin was staring solemnly at him.
“What now? You thinking about calculating the national debt?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never had to support myself before, Joseph. And I realize I’m spoiled. But that’s going to change.” She let out a little laugh. “It has to, actually. I don’t have any money.”
“Maybe a loan,” he said desperately. “They have them everywhere now. All the banks…”
“I want to work.”
“There are other jobs, other things you could do that would suit you better.”
“I’m not a quitter, Joe.” Determination and pure grit shimmered off her, and her voice was soft yet strong and even, completely without rancor. “I just need a little time to prove myself. And if you don’t have the inclination to give me the time I need, then I’m sure Andy and Tim and Vince will.”
She had that right, he thought as he glanced at the three cohorts, all staring across the room directly at Caitlin, stars sparkling in their eyes.
Caitlin scooted back from the table and rose with wounded dignity. Every male eye in the place was instantly on her. Every eye but Joe’s.
He was lost in thoughts of her determination and grit—two of his favorite qualities. He almost liked her, he realized with some surprise.
How many people could he say that about?

5
CAITLIN GOT UP the next morning and discovered two unpleasant things. One, if she wanted to eat again in the near future, she was going to have to ask Joe how often she got paid. Weekly, she hoped as she stared with dismay into her nearly empty refrigerator thinking that, given a sorry choice of expired cottage cheese or a mustard sandwich on stale bread, payday couldn’t be soon enough.
Two, and even more important, her car was gone. Missing. Vanished from the face of the earth.
Just the thought had her hyperventilating. Her BMW, her pride and joy, the one thing her father had given her that she knew he’d bought with her in mind… Well, he hadn’t actually paid for it outright, but up until his death, he’d given her the money for the lease and insurance.
She’d already called the police when it occurred to her that she might have missed a few payments.
It wasn’t her fault, really. She’d been so busy. First in Paris with a girlfriend for holiday shopping. Then in Mexico at another friend’s resort for Christmas. She’d come home in time for New Year’s Eve at the Comedy Club.
Then her father had died, and both her so-called friends and her money had disappeared.
Well, at least she hadn’t been kicked out of her condo yet. That was something, wasn’t it?
* * *
CAITLIN HAD NEVER in her life had to rely on public transportation. It was every bit the adventure she’d thought it would be and more. And so, of course, she was late.
She dashed through the foyer, waved to Amy, leaped on the elevator and stumbled into the office at ten o’clock to face a not-so-happy-looking Joe Brownley.
“How nice of you to grace us with your presence,” he said overly politely.
Usually, nothing flattened her faster than disapproval, but she wasn’t in the mood. Not today. She thought about telling him so, but stopped when she realized that, given how he’d grown up, he might not be exactly sympathetic to her losing the BMW she hadn’t paid for in the first place.
“I’m sorry I’m a little late—”
“A little?” He let out a short laugh and shook his head. “Princess, there are going to have to be rules in this…this…”
“Relationship?” she suggested sweetly, making him scowl even deeper.
“Office. This is not a relationship,” he said stiffly. “It’s a job. You come in at eight like the rest of us. In the morning,” he added with emphasis.
He wore black jeans today. And a black polo shirt, untucked as usual. It stretched tight across his broad shoulders and snugged his hard, lean chest. With his hands on his hips and that scowl on his handsome face, he looked like a modern-day pirate, capable of pillaging along with the best of them.
She definitely should not have stayed up late reading that fantastic lusty historical romance. The pirate hero had tossed the heroine over his shoulder and stalked with her into his private cabin, where he’d tossed the passionate but virginal redhead on his berth and—“What is that?” her pirate demanded, pointing to her outfit.
Caitlin glanced down at herself, but saw nothing wrong with her canary-yellow captain’s jacket and matching short full skirt, or her equally yellow high-heeled pumps. She’d needed the extra height this morning to boost her lagging confidence and stomped-on spirits.
She would have preferred an expensive shopping trip to Italy, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Of course, no one had told her she’d have to walk nearly a mile—twice—to catch connecting buses.
Tomorrow, she was wearing her cross trainers.
She’d only gotten on the wrong bus once. Okay, twice, but that second time hadn’t been her fault.
“What’s wrong with my clothes?” she asked.
“Everything!”
She looked again, just to make sure she’d buttoned all her buttons and didn’t have toilet paper stuck to her shoe, but everything was just fine. “What?”
His sigh exploded out of him as he turned away. “Nothing.”
“It’s something.”
He whipped around to face her, plowing his fingers through his hair. His raised arms, stretched, tightened, and made her mouth go dry because he was so…
“You said you’d wear…more,” he said at last.
She laughed. “No, I never said that. You did.”
He closed his eyes, a habit she’d noticed he fell back on when frustrated or furious, both seemingly constant elements of his charming personality. “I asked nicely,” he said, his voice strained.
“You most definitely did not.”
“Please,” he said after a moment. “Please, wear more. Lots more.”
“Is that a rule, too?”
His eyes flashed and she didn’t miss the quick humor they revealed. “If I said yes, would you follow it?”
She grinned back. “Probably not. I don’t do the authority thing too well.”
His gaze became serious. “This isn’t going to work.”
“It will if you stop bellowing.”
He went still. “I haven’t yelled at you.”
“You raised your voice when I dropped the lamp on your thingie.”
“Zip drive,” he said through his teeth. “It was a zip drive, princess. A very expensive one. And I didn’t yell—I nearly cried!”
“You’re doing it again.”
His shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I tend to talk loud when I get—Never mind. Christ! How the hell do you always get me so off track?”
“You were picking on me.”
“I was not picking on you.” He stopped, drew a deep, ragged breath. “Forget the zip drive, okay? Just answer the phone. Nothing else.”
She thought of his disastrous files, which she had started to organize. She could have the office fully operational in no time. “But—”
“No buts.”
He hadn’t fired her.
This man was not nearly as tough as he thought he was, which made her smile. She would fix his office, and he’d see just how valuable she could be.
He’d need her then…and she liked the sound of that.
“Now—” he pointed to the phone “—there are two lines, and the first one—”
“Thank you, Joe,” she interrupted softly, laying her hand over his.
He yanked his hand back and scowled. “Pay attention. Our phones are ringing off the hook right now because of the merger. A lot of our customers—”
“Customers?”
“We design and sell software. We also provide the tech support.”
“That’s what Tim, Andy and Vince do?”
He nodded. “Among other things. Just find out who it is they need to speak to. Put them on Hold, then use the intercom in our offices and we’ll pick up.” He pointed to another series of buttons, but Caitlin’s mind began to wander. She lifted her head and encountered the most expressive light blue eyes she’d ever seen. “Do you wear contacts?” she wondered out loud.
“Caitlin.” His nostrils flared. “You’re not paying attention.”
Paying attention was hard when he was so darn magnificent. He stood there, leaning over her, wearing that fierce expression—his jaw all tight and his sexy mouth hard—and suddenly, she wanted to kiss him.
Bad idea, she decided, and ducked her head. “I’m sorry. I’m listening now.”
Vince came out of his office, took one look at Joseph’s tense face and changed directions from the kitchen to Caitlin’s desk. “Joe,” he said quietly, “Tim needs you. He’s having trouble with a control panel and wanted me to let you know.”
“He’ll have to wait a minute.” Joe rubbed his temples. “I’m training Caitlin.”
Caitlin’s stomach tightened uncomfortably with the now familiar feeling of stress. She hated it.
“I’ll help her,” Vince suggested, tactfully slipping in between Joe and Caitlin and giving her a shy smile. “After all, I’m the one who trained the last hundred secretaries you scared off. What’s one more?”
There was her hero, Caitlin thought. Too bad his smile didn’t stop her heart like Joseph’s did.
“Good luck,” muttered the modern-day pirate as he escaped scot-free.
“Don’t worry about him.” Vince grinned, which went a long way to relieve Caitlin’s tension. “He doesn’t have much patience. He’s far too focused.”
“Well, I hope he focuses somewhere else this morning while I organize this place. It’s a disaster.”
“Um…maybe you shouldn’t.”
He was worried and it made her smile. “I can do this. You’ll see.”
“But Joe—”
“Doesn’t know how good I am.” She patted his hand. “You’ll see,” she repeated.
* * *
TIM AND ANDY came through a short time later, looking for fun, as they always did on their break.
Tim toed the controlled mess she had on the office floor, and whistled slowly. “What’d Joe say about this?”
Caitlin had to smile. “After complaining about how late I was, and then my clothes, he sort of ran out of steam. I’m sure he’ll get to it the next time he happens by, but I’m hoping to file all this away by then.”
Tim looked nervous. “Maybe I should help you,” he suggested. “No use riling him up.”
He was afraid she’d get herself fired, and it was so sweet she smiled in spite of her own nerves. Besides, she refused to put Joe in a position where his men had divided loyalties. She’d caused enough trouble. “I’ve got it covered,” she assured him.
“What’s wrong with your clothes?” Andy wanted to know, looking her over in frank appreciation. “They look plenty good to me.”
“He said I needed more,” Caitlin told him. Both Tim and Andy protested loudly, only to fall completely silent when Joe came into the front office.
He took one look at them hanging around the reception desk, and his jaw went impossibly tight.
Caitlin imagined he’d have quite a headache if he kept it up. “I’ve got the phone down pat, boss,” she said sweetly.
“Terrific.” Joe glanced pointedly at the two techs, and they scattered, each offering muttered excuses.
Caitlin’s stomach growled, loudly, into the silent office.
Joe raised an eyebrow. “Hungry again?”
“My stomach’s funny that way. You’d think since I ate so much yesterday, it’d still be satisfied.”
He frowned. “You haven’t eaten since yesterday?”
That wasn’t quite what she’d meant to say, but now that she thought about it, she’d only snacked last night on the last of a stale bag of pretzels. She’d never gotten to dinner.
Then, this morning, she’d skipped breakfast because of her missing car, not to mention an empty fridge. What with bus hopping, she’d been too upset to eat anything, not that she’d had much choice by then.
Joe sighed at her silence, took her arm and pulled her up out of her chair. They headed for the door. “Come on,” he said gruffly.
“Where?”
“To feed you, dammit.” They were in the hallway, walking at his pace, which was nearly a run for Caitlin in her heels, when her stomach growled again.
Joseph’s own stomach tightened as he remembered all too well what hunger felt like. “How did you make it this far without a keeper?” he demanded abruptly.
Under his hand, her arm went rigid. So did the rest of her. “I had one, but he died.” She yanked her arm free and met his steady gaze. “Remember?”
Yeah, he remembered. And now she was looking for another keeper. He refused to be it. Horrified that he’d nearly fallen into that position because he’d felt sorry for her, he backed up a step. Distance. He desperately needed distance.
“Don’t worry, Joe.” Her smile was brittle. “Even if I wanted another ‘keeper,’ you’d be the last man on earth I’d choose.”
Heels clicking, hips swaying, attitude popping, she moved away from him, down the hallway.
Out of some sick need to continue sparring with her, he followed her.
The elevator ride was silent and awkward, with her throwing mental daggers and him deflecting them. When the doors opened, she left without a word.
Again he followed.
Outside the office building, she took a deep breath, then jumped a little when she saw him. “Do you miss him?” she asked suddenly.
He didn’t have to ask who, and yes, God, how he missed him.
The streets were filled with lunch-hour traffic, both motorists and pedestrians. The crowd was busy, noisy…and impolite. People shoved past them, around them, mumbling and grumbling as they went on with their day.
“Do you?” she asked quietly.
“Yes.” He swallowed past the familiar stab of pain. “I miss him a lot.”
She nodded and watched the people. The light breeze tossed her short skirt about her incredible thighs. Joseph’s unhappy thoughts shifted and he concentrated on her body. When she crossed her arms tightly over her middle, her full breasts strained against the material of her jacket, making serious thought difficult, if not impossible.
“I do, too,” she admitted so quietly he was forced to lean closer. Now her exotic, sexy scent teased him, and he inhaled deeply, torturing himself.
“But I don’t understand…why did he do this to me?”
Edmund had served her a direct hit, and Joe felt uncomfortable with her grief and confusion, because he was just as grief stricken and confused.
“You were friends with him,” she said. “You were friends, but we aren’t.”
She was fishing. She needed, yearned…and he ached for her, but he’d never told a lie in his life, not even to save someone’s feelings, and he wouldn’t start now. “I’m sorry.”
She looked at him, accepting his silent admission that no, they were not friends. “I want us to get along.”
How to tell her that he didn’t? That he “got along” with very few people, and he liked it that way. That the only reason he ever “got along” with a beautiful woman was to “get it on.”
“I don’t want to be someone you have to babysit.”
“That’s good. Because I don’t babysit,” he said.
“You were dragging me off to feed me,” she pointed out, ignoring a nasty remark from a harassed-looking woman who had to walk around them on the sidewalk. “I work for you from eight to five, but what I do before or after shouldn’t be your concern.”
“Then eat, dammit!”
“Yeah, that sort of…um…reminds me…” She bit her lip. “How often do we get paid?”
All his annoyance fled as he stared at her. His stomach suddenly hurt. “Are you that out of money?”
She paused. Shrugged. “Sort of, yeah.”
Damn. “Today. You’ll get paid today.”
“I don’t want your pity. I just want to know when we get paid around here. Weekly, biweekly, what?”
“Don’t,” he said harshly, and when she flinched he lightened his tone with effort. “I know what it’s like to be hungry, to not eat because there’s no food.” He rubbed his belly, almost feeling that bone-gnawing hunger from his youth all over again. God, he hated this. A little panicked now, because she made him feel things he didn’t want to, he shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out whatever bills he had in there, slapping them into her palm. “Take this. It’s an advance.”
Horrified, she glanced downward, then pushed the money back at him. “No. I’m not the local charity case.”
“Take it.” He shoved the money into her jacket pocket. A mistake. Through the material, he could feel her warm flesh.
“I told you yesterday that I can do this,” she said a little shakily as she backed away from him. “I can handle being on my own just fine. I don’t think you believe that, but it’s true, and I’m going to prove it to you.” As she took another step back, she enunciated each word. “I can take care of myself.”
“Wait,” he called out when she turned and took off down the street.
Of course she didn’t wait. She never did as he asked.
He could have caught her easily. In those ridiculously high heels, she was hardly moving faster than a quick stroll, but he knew she needed to be alone. She’d resent him intruding now. It would hurt her pride. And he knew all about pride.
Still… He hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings, but he just kept doing it. He hated how that made him feel.
Why, Edmund? he wondered for the umpteenth time. Why have you done this to me?
Vince came up beside him, watching Caitlin disappear into the crowd. “You have such a touch with women, Joe,” he said dryly.
“Hey, most of them like me.”
“None of them ‘like’ you. They want you. Some for money, some for that reputed charm of yours, but none of them because they like you.”
Someone else might have taken offense to Vince’s honesty, but Joe always appreciated it. “Look who’s talking,” he countered. “I don’t see you married or anything.”
“But you will.” Vince stared into the crowd where Caitlin had disappeared. “You will.” A muscle twitched in his cheek. “Tell me you didn’t fire her.”
“We’ve done fine without a secretary before.”
Joe and Vince went way back, but Joe had, in all that time, never seen Vince’s temper. He saw it now. The redhead flushed from roots to neck, and his eyes narrowed. “I can’t believe you did it,” he said furiously. “Fired another one! And she was the nicest, sweetest one we ever had.”
“Sweet?” Joe laughed. “Nothing that looks that good is sweet, believe me.”
Vince was disgusted. “If I didn’t know better, Joe, I’d say she scares you.”
“She terrifies me. She’s going to destroy our office.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I didn’t fire her, Vince,” he said wearily.
Vince relaxed marginally. “But you wanted to.”
“Look, I’m stuck with her because of a stupid promise. Yeah, I wanted to.”
“No, that’s not it—it’s not the promise,” Vince said as he studied his longtime friend. “I know you better than that. You’re running scared.” He shook his head in amazement. “And I thought you were fearless.”
“I’m not afraid of her.”
“Uh-huh. Well, whatever you do, don’t hurt her. I like her.”
Vince’s voice gave away nothing, but the way his eyes were trained on Caitlin’s disappearing figure in the crowd did. Not that Joe cared, but Vince clearly did like Caitlin. A lot.
He’d probably even ask her out eventually, Joe thought, his gut tightening yet again.
Caitlin would probably say yes.
Dammit. He really hated working with women.

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.”

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