Wanted by the Boss: Sleeping with the Boss / Cowboy Boss / Billionaire Boss

Two

Rick leaned back in his chair and watched Eileen stop just at the threshold. She’d been doing that for three days now. She did the work. She was efficient, smart, organized. But she kept him at a distance. Always made sure she held herself back from him. And if he was smart, he’d appreciate that.

Instead, it frustrated him.

He hadn’t expected to be so attracted to her. When his grandmother had first suggested Eileen as a temporary secretary, Rick hadn’t been able to imagine it. The Eileen he’d known years ago was hardly his idea of a good assistant. But he’d been desperate and willing to try anything. Now that she was here, he could hardly think of anything else.

Probably not a good sign.

‘‘Hello? Earth to Rick.’’

He blinked, coming up out of his thoughts like a man waking from a coma. ‘‘What?’’

‘‘I don’t know. You called me in here, remember?’’ Eileen was still standing in the doorway, but now she was looking at him as if he had a screw loose. And hell. Maybe he did.

He pushed out of the chair and stood up. He’d always thought better on his feet anyway. ‘‘Yeah. I did. I’ll need you to stay a little later tonight—’’ He broke off when the phone in the outer office rang.

‘‘Hold that thought.’’ Eileen turned and walked to her desk.

He deliberately avoided watching the sway of her hips. It wasn’t easy.

She grabbed the receiver on the third ring. ‘‘Hawkins Financial.’’

Rick watched her as she reached across the desk for a pen. The hem of her skirt rode tantalizingly high on her thighs with the movement and he told himself not to look. But hell, he was male, right? And breathing? Impossible not to look.

Didn’t mean a thing.

‘‘Vanessa Taylor?’’ Eileen turned to glance at him, a question in her eyes.

Damn.

No, he mouthed, shaking his head and waving both hands. All he needed right now, was having to listen to Vanessa ramble about cocktail parties she wanted him to take her to. Never mind that he hadn’t called her in weeks. Vanessa simply assumed that every man who crossed her path would become her helpless love slave. Rick Hawkins, however, didn’t believe in love or slavery.

Tell her anything, he mouthed the instructions and hoped to hell Eileen was good at lipreading. He felt like a damn mime. But he couldn’t risk a whisper. Vanessa had ears like a bat. She’d know he was there, then she’d insist on talking to him and he just wasn’t interested.

Hell, he hadn’t been interested when they were going out.

Anything? Eileen mouthed back, a decided gleam in her eyes. When he nodded, she smiled wickedly and said, ‘‘I’m sorry Ms. Taylor, but Rick can’t come to the phone right now. The doctors have advised him to not speak until the stitches are gone.’’

What? Rick took a step closer.

Eileen backed up. ‘‘Oh, you didn’t hear? A minor accident,’’ she said, laughter in her eyes and feigned sympathy in her voice. ‘‘I’m sure the disfigurement won’t be permanent.’’ An instant later, Eileen jerked the phone from her ear and winced. ‘‘Wow. She slammed the phone down so hard I think I may be deaf.’’

Rick stared at her. ‘‘Disfigurement? I’m disfigured? Why did you do that?’’

‘‘Eh?’’ She cupped one hand around her ear and tilted her head.

‘‘Funny, Ryan.’’ He smirked at her. Pushing the edges of his jacket back, he shoved both hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels. ‘‘What’s the deal?’’

‘‘You said I should tell her anything.’’

‘‘Within reason.’’

She held up one finger and shook it. ‘‘No one said anything about reason.’’

Rick pulled his hands free of his pockets and crossed his arms over his chest. She kept surprising him. Which intrigued him. Which worried the hell out of him. ‘‘I didn’t think I’d have to request reason. I’ll be more prepared next time.’’

She chuckled.

‘‘You enjoyed that.’’

‘‘Oh yeah,’’ she admitted, and leaned back, perching her behind on the edge of her desk. ‘‘And by the way, Vanessa?’’ She shook her head sadly. ‘‘Not the deepest puddle on the block. Just the word ‘disfigurement’ was enough to get rid of her.’’ She studied him through amused eyes. ‘‘Swimming in pretty shallow pools, aren’t you?’’

Shallow? Good description of Vanessa and all of her pals. But hey, he wasn’t interested in meaningful. At the time, all he’d been interested in was a dinner companion and a bed warmer. Vanessa hadn’t been much good at either one. But that was hardly the point.

‘‘Are you this mouthy with all of your employers?’’

She came away from the desk. ‘‘I don’t have an employer. Not anymore. I’m my own boss.’’

‘‘Probably a wise move.’’

‘‘What’s that supposed to mean?’’

‘‘You don’t play well with others, do you?’’

‘‘I’ve been doing a good job, haven’t I?’’

‘‘Sure,’’ Rick said, moving a little closer. Her scent reached out to him and he sucked it in. Stupid. ‘‘If you don’t take into account the grumbling and the refusal to take orders and—’’

‘‘I don’t need to follow orders, I know how to run an office—’’

Hell, she was as easy to bait as she’d been as a kid. That Irish temper of hers was always bubbling and simmering just below the surface. And watching the temper flash in her eyes was damn near hypnotic. The emerald-green depths churned and darkened and bordered on dangerous, and still Rick was fascinated.

‘‘But this is my office,’’ he countered, egging her on. Her skin flushed, her breathing quickened and she looked like a coiled spring ready to explode. And his mouth nearly watered. Man, he was in some serious trouble here. He hadn’t wanted a woman so badly in…ever.

‘‘Oh, I know it’s your office,’’ she said, taking a step closer and leaning in for effect. ‘‘It’s got your boring, unoriginal stamp all over it. Anyone else would have a little color around here. But not the great Rick Hawkins. Oh no. Let’s play the corporate game. Battleship-gray all the way for you, isn’t it? You’re just one of the fleet. No originality at all.’’

‘‘Originality?’’ She could say whatever the hell she wanted about the decor. Because he couldn’t give a good damn about what the place looked like, beyond it appearing dignified and successful. Did she really think he was the kind of guy to carry swatches of fabric around, for God’s sake?

But he was damned if he’d stand here and be called a lemming. He’d opened up more brokerage accounts in the past year than any of his competitors. He’d become the fastest growing firm on the West Coast over the past three years and that hadn’t happened because he blindly followed everyone else.

‘‘Well, look around you,’’ she exclaimed. ‘‘This whole building is like a warren of rabbit holes. And every one of you bunnies is tucked away in your little gray worlds.’’ She waved her hands around, encompassing the pale gray walls, the steel-blue carpet and the generic watercolors dotted sparingly throughout the room. ‘‘I’m willing to bet the same interior decorator did all of the offices in this place. You’ve probably all got the same awful paintings hung in the same places on the same gray walls.’’

‘‘Because I work in an office building I’m unoriginal?’’

She nodded sharply. ‘‘Hard to be a free spirit when you work on the S.S. Conformity.’’

‘‘What?’’ He had to laugh despite her insulting tone. She was way over the top. Like some latter-day hippie. He half expected her to start chanting and calling on Sister Moon to help free his soul.

Damn, he hadn’t had this much fun in a long time.

‘‘What you need is—’’ She slapped one hand to her left eye and shouted, ‘‘Freeze.’’

‘‘What?’’ Instinctively he took a step.

‘‘Don’t move.’’ She gave him a one-eyed glare. ‘‘Don’t you know what ‘freeze’ means?’’

‘‘What the hell are you talking about now?’’

Slowly she lowered herself to the floor. ‘‘My contact. I lost a contact.’’

‘‘You’re kidding.’’

‘‘Do I look like I’m kidding?’’ She tipped her head back to stare at him.

‘‘You wear contact lenses?’’

Her one good eye narrowed. The other was squeezed shut. ‘‘Well, to coin a phrase, duh.’’

Rick glanced at the floor and carefully went down on his knees. ‘‘I knew your eyes couldn’t be that green naturally.’’

‘‘Watch where you kneel!’’ she blurted, then giving him a one eyed glare again, she added, ‘‘And they’re not tinted lenses, if you must know.’’

He looked at her. ‘‘Prove it.’’

She opened her left eye. Just as green as the right one. Deep and pure and clear, they looked like the color of spring grass. Or, of a backlit emerald in a jeweler’s display case. He stared into her eyes and, for a moment, let himself get lost in their depths. It was almost like drowning, he thought, then brought himself up short when she tore her gaze from his. He wasn’t going to drown in any woman’s eyes. Not again.

‘‘So.’’ She swallowed hard, inhaled quickly and said, ‘‘Just run your fingers gently over the carpet.’’

‘‘This happen often?’’ he asked as he knelt beside her.

‘‘Usually just when I’m upset.’’

‘‘So, often.’’

She gave him an elbow to the ribs. ‘‘Cute.’’

‘‘So I’ve been told.’’

‘‘By Vanessa?’’ she asked.

‘‘Vanessa was a client,’’ he explained, his gaze searching the carpet as his fingers traced softly across the fabric. ‘‘We had dinner a couple of times, that’s all.’’

‘‘Apparently she’s still hungry.’’

‘‘Too bad,’’ he muttered, briefly remembering just how boring Vanessa really was, ‘‘because I’ve had enough.’’

‘‘Ooh.’’ Eileen turned her head to look at him. ‘‘Sounds like there’s a story there.’’

He glanced at her. She flipped her hair to one side. She smiled and something inside him tightened. Her fingers brushed his as they searched and he felt a short stab of heat that sliced right down to his insides. He’d never felt that with Vanessa. Or his ex-wife. Or anyone else for that matter.

Damn it, she was getting to him. And he couldn’t allow that to happen. He had to remind himself that Eileen was just an old—not friend—not enemy, either. And certainly not old. So what did that make her? Besides, of course, a top-grade, A number-one temptation?

‘‘Hello?’’ she muttered, and waved one hand in front of his face.

‘‘Right. Story. No story. Vanessa was just…’’ He thought about it for a long moment. He didn’t owe her or anyone else an explanation. But since she was staring at him from one good eye, he knew she wouldn’t just drop it, either. Finally he said simply, ‘‘Temporary.’’

Her eyebrows arched. ‘‘Lot of that going around.’’

‘‘Nothing lasts forever.’’ His voice sounded tight, harsh, even to his own ears.

‘‘Well, that’s looking on the bright side.’’ She crawled forward an inch or two.

‘‘Just realistic.’’ He knew that better than anyone. Love, friendship, relationships, they all ended. Usually when you were least expecting it. A long time ago Rick had decided to take charge of his world. Now he ended things before they got complicated. He was the one to walk away. He’d never be the one standing alone with a broken heart again.

Crawling carefully along the carpet, he stayed close to her. ‘‘How far can these things roll, anyway?’’

‘‘Pretty far,’’ she said. ‘‘So, why is realistic cynical, why?’’

He glanced at her. Damn, she was too close. Close enough that he could count the handful of freckles dusting the bridge of her nose. There were six. Not that he cared. ‘‘Why are you so interested?’’

She shrugged. ‘‘Humor a half-blind woman.’’

Rick chuckled. She made him laugh. Had been since the first day she was here. And that was something he didn’t do nearly often enough. He’d been too busy building his world to take the time to enjoy what he’d created. Too busy proving to everyone—including himself—that he could go to the top, to enjoy the trip. But somehow, Eileen lightened things up, even when she was arguing with him.

Impossible to ignore, too dangerous to pay attention to. Great combination.

He shrugged and stopped, thinking for a second he’d spotted a glint of light, like sunlight bouncing off a lens, but then it was gone. ‘‘No deep dark explanation,’’ he said, refusing to be drawn into the long, sad history of his past relationships. Not only wasn’t it any of Eileen’s business, but he’d learned to let it go. No point in revisiting it. ‘‘Vanessa and I were just two ships colliding briefly in the night, then going our own way. That’s realistic, not cynical. Pretending it was anything else would be a waste of time.’’

Colliding ships, huh? Eileen mused on his choice of words for a minute or two. If their ships had collided, then they’d probably slept together. Which meant this Vanessa had seen Rick naked. Instantly an image flashed into Eileen’s mind. The same image that had been taunting her for the past few days.

She kept imagining Rick wet.

Stepping out of the shower, a skimpy towel wrapped around his waist, beads of water clinging to the hairs on his chest. Then she imagined him shaking his head and tiny droplets of water flying from the ends of his hair like diamonds. Then she imagined the towel dropping and him stepping forward to take her into his arms. The vision was so clear, so tantalizing, she could feel his wet skin next to hers. He bent his head, his mouth just a breath away from hers and then—

‘‘Found it!’’

She sucked in air like an old, wheezing vacuum. ‘‘What?’’

‘‘Your lens,’’ Rick said, holding it out to her. ‘‘I found it.’’

‘‘Right.’’ She swallowed that gulp of air and held it in, hoping to steady herself. Jeez. Did it have to be so darn hot in the room? Right now, she felt as though a fever were racing through her body. She looked into his eyes, and those brown depths seemed to pull her in. His victorious grin set off a series of minor explosions within her and her blood pumped as if she was in the last leg of a marathon.

She’d never had this sort of reaction to a man before. Oh, the cute ones jangled her nerves, and here and there a fabulous mouth might make her a little antsy. But never had she fantasized so well that her whole body was tingling with heat and want.

Not even over her late, unlamented ex-fiancée. Not even with her last boss…the one with lots of promises and an exceptionally bad memory about them.

Nope. Rick stirred things up that had never been stirred before.

Oh, boy.

‘‘Thanks,’’ she said, and picked her contact lens up from the center of his palm. The brush of her fingertips against his skin sent another jagged spear of something dark and wicked through her body, but Eileen fought it. Otherwise, she’d be forced to roll over onto her back and shout, Take me, big boy!

Oh, wow.

Eileen pushed herself to her feet. ‘‘Okay, better go take care of this. Don’t want to look at life like a Cyclops.’’

She headed unsteadily toward the door. He was right behind her, but Eileen didn’t look back. The words ‘‘pillar of salt’’ kept reverberating inside her mind.

‘‘Can I help?’’

‘‘No thanks,’’ she said, waving one hand. ‘‘Been doing this for years.’’

‘‘I didn’t know you wore contacts.’’

‘‘No reason you should, since we haven’t seen each other in six years.’’

The hall looked impossibly long. The wall on her right was painted the ever-present gray, but the wall on her right was glass. Afternoon sunshine poured in, and five stories below them, it winked off the windshields of the cars jammed bumper to bumper on the 405 freeway. Just the thought of joining the thundering herd trying to get home made her grateful that Rick wanted her to stay later than usual.

Even if he was making her a little nervous.

‘‘Man,’’ Rick said from behind her, as if reading her mind, ‘‘the freeway’s a mess.’’

‘‘I noticed.’’ She made a sharp right and walked into the ladies’ room.

‘‘It should be thinned out later, though. We could send out for dinner while we work.’’

Dinner. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to swallow. Eileen looked into the mirror and stared at Rick’s reflection. He was there. Right behind her. In the pale blue lounge area. Of the ladies’ room, for Pete’s sake. Two vinyl chairs sat on either side of a low table holding a bowl of fresh flowers. Eileen looked into the mirror, ignoring the furnishings to stare instead at Rick. ‘‘Dinner?’’

‘‘What? You don’t eat?’’

‘‘Sure I eat. I just usually don’t have men following me into the ladies’ room to deliver an invitation.’’

He shifted his gaze from hers and looked around, as if surprised to discover where he was. Then he looked back into the mirror, meeting her gaze again with a wry, crooked smile. ‘‘Oops.’’

Eileen felt a ping bounce around inside her and realized that smile of his could still affect her. Apparently, at heart, she was still that eleven-year-old girl with a kinda sorta crush. For heaven’s sake.

He jerked a thumb at the closed door behind him. ‘‘I’ll, uh, see you outside.’’

‘‘Good idea.’’

Once he was gone, Eileen let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Leaning forward, she planted both hands on the slate-blue Formica counter and stared at her reflection. ‘‘This temporary job was a bad idea, Eileen. Really bad.’’

Three

Rick hadn’t had Mexican fast food in far too long. He didn’t remember tacos and nachos ever tasting quite so good. And he’d never considered having an indoor picnic on the floor of his office. But then maybe it wasn’t the food, he told himself. Maybe it was sharing it with Eileen. She was annoying, irritating and more entertaining than he would have guessed.

Watching her now while she talked about some of her customers, he saw her eyes flash with humor.

‘‘This one guy is a regular,’’ she was saying, and paused to take a small bite of a taco. She chewed, swallowed and said, ‘‘He’s got a standing order for a dozen roses once a week.’’

‘‘Good husband?’’ Rick ventured.

‘‘Hardly,’’ she said with a quick shake of her head. ‘‘It’s for the girl of the week. Always someone different, always a different color rose—according to their personalities, he says. But one week, he changed the order—switched to a spider plant.’’

One of Rick’s eyebrows lifted. ‘‘Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?’’

‘‘Makes me wonder how he finds so many women willing to go out with him.’’ She sighed and leaned back, bracing her hands on the floor behind her. ‘‘His bedroom must be like an assembly line.’’

‘‘And you think I’m cynical?’’ Rick drew one knee up and rested his forearm on top.

‘‘Touché.’’ She inclined her head at him, allowing him a point.

‘‘So,’’ he asked after a long minute of silence, ‘‘how’s Bridie doing?’’

Eileen smiled. ‘‘Big sister’s doing fine,’’ she said, thinking about Bridget and her ever-growing family. ‘‘Three and a half kids and a husband she drools over. She’s disgustingly happy.’’

‘‘Three and a half?’’

‘‘Pregnant again,’’ she said with a slow shake of her head. ‘‘Hard to imagine, but Bridie just loves being pregnant and Jefferson—that’s her husband—he’s as nuts about kids as she is.’’ Eileen met Rick’s gaze. ‘‘If you guys hadn’t split up, you could have been a very busy father by now.’’

He frowned, reached for his soda and took a long drink. ‘‘No, thanks.’’ He set the large cup back onto the rug. ‘‘Tried the husband thing. It didn’t work. Besides, I’m not father material.’’

‘‘There’s that sunshiny outlook on life I’ve come to know so well,’’ Eileen said.

‘‘Touché.’’ His turn to incline his head and acknowledge her point. Then he asked, ‘‘What about you?’’

‘‘What about me?’’

‘‘You involved with anyone?’’ And why do you care? Rick asked himself. The answer was, he didn’t. Not really. It was just a polite inquiry. Didn’t matter to him one way or the other.

She sat up, dusted her palms together and gathered up her trash, stuffing it into the white paper bag. ‘‘Not lately.’’

Good, he thought even though he knew it would have been better if she were engaged. Married. Hell. A nun. ‘‘Hard to believe.’’

‘‘Why?’’ She looked up at him.

He shrugged. ‘‘It’s just…’’ He waved a hand at her. ‘‘I mean…’’

She smiled. ‘‘Are you about to give me a compliment?’’

Frowning, Rick crumpled up the last of his trash and snatched the bag from her hand to stuff his trash inside. ‘‘Stranger things have happened.’’

‘‘In science fiction movies.’’

‘‘You’re not an easy person, are you, Eyeball?’’

She tossed a wadded-up taco wrapper at him, bouncing it off his forehead. ‘‘Gran always said nothing good ever comes easy.’’

‘‘Yeah, but who knew she was talking about you?’’

Silence dropped between them. Outside the windows, the sun was setting and the low-lying clouds were shaded a deep purple and crimson. And inside, the silence kept growing, until it was a living, breathing presence in the room.

Rick stared at her and caught himself wondering what she would taste like. And he wondered if he’d be willing to stop at just one taste. That couldn’t happen though. He wouldn’t get involved with Eileen Ryan. Beyond the fact that she aroused too much emotion within him—there was the whole business of her being the granddaughter of his grandmother’s best friend.

She wasn’t the woman for a no-strings affair. She was hearth and home and family dinners. Definitely, she was hands off. There might as well have been a sign reading Keep Away tacked to her forehead.

If he was smart, he’d pay attention.

‘‘We’d better finish up that contract stuff,’’ she said, her gaze locked with his.

‘‘Right.’’ Rick nodded and pulled in a deep breath. ‘‘Otherwise, we could be here all night.’’

‘‘Probably not a good idea,’’ Eileen said softly, and licked her lips.

‘‘Yeah,’’ he said, wincing as his body tightened. ‘‘Not a good idea at all.’’

By Thursday evening, Eileen was regretting ever agreeing to this situation. She felt as if she was tightrope walking over a pit filled with hungry lions. One wrong step and she was nothing more than a quick meal.

What she needed was the weekend. Time to spend down at the beach, in her own cottage. Painting the china hutch she’d picked up at the flea market last month. Or stenciling the kitchen walls. Heaven knows, she’d been putting that off for months. There’d never been enough time to get around to all of the crafty things she liked to do. She was always too busy at the shop.

Which was why she’d been looking forward to these two weeks. With Paula, her new manager, in charge at Larkspur, Eileen could relax about the shop. It was in good hands.

Her full vacation was already shot, so she planned to make good use of at least the weekends. She’d have some breathing room. She needed to get herself far, far away from Rick Hawkins. She needed to keep busy enough that maybe she’d stop daydreaming about what she’d like to be doing with Rick. Eileen groaned quietly. All she had to do was get through today and tomorrow, and she’d have two whole days to decompress.