The Bachelor Boss

Chapter Two

Neil couldn’t keep a grin from splitting his face as he strode away.

Libby might be an innocent, but that unexpected temper was priceless. Of course, he shouldn’t have said he was still attracted to her. It just made things more complicated, but it was entertaining watching her blush and react so strongly.

No matter what she claimed, he wasn’t attracted to her just because she’d refused him. Absolutely not. He had his moments he wasn’t proud of, but he wasn’t that shallow and immature. He could keep things under control without actually doing anything about it.

“Any messages?” he asked his secretary.

“They’re on your desk, Mr. O’Rourke.” Margie turned back to her desk, avoiding his gaze.

He hesitated. “Is something wrong?”

“No, of course not.”

Neil waited, then decided not to say anything else. She was new and apparently having personal troubles, but he didn’t want to make either of them uncomfortable by asking too much.

“Thank you. I have an appointment with Libby Dumont at one this afternoon. Keep my schedule clear.”

“Yes, sir.”

Going into his office, he tossed the bed-and-breakfast file on his desk. “B and B’s,” he murmured, shaking his head as he swiftly scanned the pages.

After several hours of making notes and jotting down figures, Neil got up and stretched, realizing he’d worked through lunch again. He had to admit the bed-and-breakfast project had some interesting aspects, but what still boggled his mind was that Kane had promoted Libby Dumont. Vice president? She might be all right in a division that handled corporate giving, but new developments?

His brother was going soft in the head. Beth was a great wife and sister-in-law, but if that’s what falling in love did to you, the rest of the world could keep it.

Love did strange things to people.

Restless all at once, Neil paced around the room, then stood at the window and looked out at the Puget Sound. It was a rare, cloudless day in Seattle, the sun shining brightly on the water. A ferry chugged away from the shore, with seagulls soaring and swooping in the air above.

He usually tried not to think about how his father had given up the work he cherished—handcrafting fine wood furniture—to take a higher paying job in the forest industry. A job that eventually killed him, just to support a growing family.

There were too many tradeoffs to love and marriage, and Neil knew he was too selfish to make them. It was better to be honest with himself, than to get married and end up in a bitter divorce, making everyone miserable.

The phone on the desk rang. It was Margie, telling him that Libby was waiting for their appointment.

“Tell her to come in.”

Libby walked inside with an I’m-going-to-be-nice-to-the-jackass-if-it-kills-me expression on her face.

“Good afternoon, Mr. O’Rourke.”

He looked at her narrowly. That “Mr. O’Rourke” nonsense would have to end. Sooner or later he’d get her to call him Neil. It was a challenge, and he loved challenges.

“Good afternoon, Miss Dumont,” he mimicked back. “You do know my first name, don’t you?”

“Of course,” she said evenly.

“Then use it.”

“I’m not the only employee who calls you Mr. O’Rourke,” Libby murmured.

Neil frowned. Come to think of it, she was right.

“But just your subordinates,” she added. “So you have nothing to worry about. I mean, it’s a little stuffy, but who cares when you’re in charge, right?”

“I’m not a snob, Libby. I’ve never insisted on that kind of formality,” he said, stung.

“But you’ve never invited us peons to call you Neil, either.”

“I did this morning and it didn’t do any good. You still insist on using Mr. O’Rourke,” Neil snapped. “And nobody’s a peon at O’Rourke Enterprises. You damn well know that.”

Libby took a breath. She couldn’t believe she’d let her tongue run away with her that morning, and now she was doing it again. After a lifetime of being a well-behaved preacher’s daughter, watching what she said and trying to be tactful no matter what the situation, she’d totally lost it.

Of course, by all accounts, tact wasn’t high on Neil O’Rourke’s list of priorities.

“Maybe we should just talk about the B and B proposal,” she said quickly.

“Suits me. Where do you think we should start looking for properties? I’ve made some notes, but I should hear your ideas about it before we go ahead.”

Libby wanted to say Endicott, her hometown. If a community ever needed development, it was Endicott. But that would convince him more than ever that she was too sentimental to be “executive” material.

“We could write various historical societies and ask if they know of any likely houses that would meet our purpose,” she suggested instead.

Neil shook his head. “It’s bad enough we have to talk to them at all, but you’ll get them up in arms before we even start,” he declared.

“They might decide to work with us, you know. For the chance of saving a piece of history.”

“Sure, and I believe in leprechauns.”

Libby doubted Neil had ever believed in something so whimsical, even as a boy.

“Do you have a better suggestion?” she asked.

“Yes. We could assign a team to scout locations. Other teams can work on acquisitions and restoration.”

Her chin lifted. “Well, that certainly has the personal touch Kane and Beth have in mind for the project.”

Neil glared. “Fine, then we’ll do it together. All of it. The two of us, every step of the way. That should have a personal enough touch to suit you.”

Swell.

She really wanted to spend more time with him—about as much as she wanted to slam her hand in a car door. It was more opportunity to say something foolish, something he’d laugh about. She was still squirming over the things she’d said earlier, making it sound as if just thinking about sex was a terrible sin.

Libby thought about sex.

She thought about it a lot.

Actually, sometimes sex was all she could think of, though she usually tried to blame it on hormones and being that time of the month. But she wanted to be with someone she loved, who loved her, someone who wanted to hold her during the night instead of calculating the fastest way out the door the minute his breathing slowed.

That someone wasn’t Neil O’Rourke.

He wanted success, power, and a life of travel and accomplishment, equating marriage to sacrifice. Sacrifice. No woman in her right mind wanted a man who considered her a sacrifice, no matter how good-looking he might be. It wasn’t worth the heartache.

And she didn’t even know why she was thinking about it except she’d never reacted to any man more strongly than Neil.

Blast.

It wasn’t fair that he could turn her inside out with-out even knowing he’d done it. She’d gone for months at a time without thinking about the man, and then only in passing, but now her head was filled with wayward thoughts.

Maybe it was knowing he wasn’t going anywhere. This time she was stuck with him.

“A historical bed-and-breakfast line wasn’t my idea,” she said, trying to sound calm. “You don’t have to be annoyed with me for wanting to do things the way Kane asked.”

“Whatever. Just stay here,” Neil ordered, getting up and stomping out.

“Stay?” Libby scowled at his empty chair.

She wasn’t a golden retriever he could order to stay put. Then she shrugged, deciding she’d have to pick her battles carefully when it came to Neil. Otherwise she’d never stop arguing with the man, being as he was the most annoying person on the planet.

After a few minutes he returned with a load of phone books in his arms.

“I got these from the secretarial pool,” he said, dropping them in a heap on the couch. “We’ll go through them and start making calls to real estate agents about likely properties.

Libby lifted one of the dog-eared phone books in disbelief. The thing was eight years old. Hadn’t Neil ever heard of the Internet? The information highway loaded with helpful items like up-to-date phone numbers? He must have dug these out of a back cabinet somebody had forgotten.

A bubble of laughter struggled for release in her throat.

He had to be totally rattled, beyond thinking clearly. They hadn’t even talked about what towns to start in, but his first course of action was to bring in some ancient phone books and randomly start contacting real estate agents?

“Start calling,” Neil said. “That’s a separate phone line over by the couch.”

Within seconds he was talking to an agent, crisply barking out his “needs” and asking that a list of suitable properties be faxed immediately.

She followed suit, glancing at him from time to time, and realizing that maybe his plan wasn’t daft after all. It could be more organized, but at least it had a personal touch.

At one point Neil smiled so warmly that Libby was startled. Then her gaze narrowed. From the bits of conversation she could catch, he was obviously talking to a woman who was doing her best to flirt.

What about his precious professionalism?

Why did she care?

Libby hastily looked back at her own phone book. It didn’t sound like he was flirting back with “Sue,” but he was such a stickler for being cool and professional she’d have expected him to end the conversation with the first calculated giggle.

“How many agents have you talked to?” he asked after another hour.

She counted. “Eight who promised to fax something today.”

“I’ve got fifteen. Let’s see if anything has come in, and we can decide which properties we’re going to look at first.” He picked up the phone. “Margie? Yes, I know a lot is coming in on the machine. Bring it in.”

Margie sidled into the office like a frightened rabbit and handed Neil a stack of paper. Libby gave her an encouraging smile before she left, recognizing the sign of fresh tears on the other woman’s face.

Neil didn’t even look up and Libby wanted to kick him. Granted, Margie was new to working in an executive suite, but she’d been with the company for a long while and she was going through a tough time with a sick daughter. A little sensitivity from her equally new boss would help.

“Looks like some good stuff to start with,” Neil muttered, sitting next to Libby on the couch, and flipping through the faxed sheets.

He recognized the ones from the agents he’d talked with. They were adequate, but Libby’s faxes were much longer, provided more material, and the cover sheets contained hand-written notes saying things like “enjoyed talking with you,” “anything we can do to help,” and “sounds like a great project, love to be a part of it.”

The only personal note to him was a message from Susan Weston, who asked if he wanted to have dinner the next time he was in Olympia.

“Olympia?” Libby asked, looking over his shoulder at the boldly scrawled invitation. “It’s a beautiful city, but I thought the idea was to look for places in small towns, especially towns needing revitalization.”

“It is.” Neil crumpled the sheet and tossed it on the floor, unaccountably embarrassed. He hadn’t encouraged Sue to flirt. He’d dealt with her before on land deals in the south Puget sound area, so had naturally called her to see if she had any likely listings for a bed-and-breakfast inn. “Susan has a big agency. She lists property from Lacey to Aberdeen.”

“Oh. Personal friend?”

“No.” The denial came out more sharply than he’d intend. “We’ve done business before, that’s all.”

Libby squirmed on the soft leather cushions, trying to sit up straight, and her leg brushed his thigh.

Damn. He should never have thought about her curves, her perfume, or anything else so personal. They worked together, for pity’s sake. She was his vice president. And if she was the reason he was so fierce about not dating someone in the company, then so what?

They’d had one date, eleven years ago. A date that ended with him taking a cold shower.

“Er…Libby,” Neil murmured, hoping she’d sit still and quit turning him on. Hell, he was in charge here.

“What?”

“About this morning—I meant you were attractive. Not that I was interested in starting something.”

“I see.” Her eyes darkened stormily. “Well, let me be clear. I’m not interested in starting something, either.”

Great.

They were both on the same page.

Of course, he’d ticked her off again, but hadn’t he decided a little conflict would be good for business?

Libby squirmed again, only this time she got to her feet. She tugged at her skirt that had ridden up and made an obvious attempt to compose herself.

“I’ll do some Internet research on these listings,” she said, color flags high in her cheeks. “Then I’ll prepare a preliminary report and you can decide which sites you’re going to visit next week.”

“The sites we’re going to visit,” Neil reminded. “We’re supposed to do this together so we can build teamwork. So we’ll drive ourselves rather than take a chauffeur,” he said, deciding it would be a good idea to have one of them occupied with driving. Besides, he didn’t care for limousines, no matter how convenient.

“Fine. I’ll e-mail the report to you later,” Libby said, and hurried out.

His private phone rang and he hauled himself off the couch to answer it.

“How is your first day as president going?” asked Kane.

Neil thought about Libby’s flashing eyes and the angry color in her cheeks, and decided he shouldn’t mention either one. “It’s great.”

“Good. You remember the party is tonight, right?” Their twin nieces’ fourth birthday party was that evening, and they both planned to leave work early.

“Yup. I’m coming.”

“Don’t forget you’re supposed to bring the ice cream.”

“Yeah. Strawberry, or something.” Neil deliberately sounded vague.

Kane’s sigh was exasperated, even over the phone line. “No. Chocolate for Peggy, and vanilla for Amy. Stop by the grocery store on the way. And get lots, you know how they love ice cream.”

Neil grinned. After their father’s death, Kane had done his best to fill his shoes, quitting college and managing to make a fortune at the same time he was supporting the family. He enjoyed playing big-brother-turned-father-figure so much, they still indulged him every now and then. Of course, he’d probably have his fill of being “daddy” once his wife gave birth to their first baby and he experienced 2:00 a.m. feedings for himself.

“That’s right. Thanks for the reminder.”

Neil chuckled as he replaced the receiver. He’d enjoyed running O’Rourke Enterprises when Kane was courting and on his honeymoon, but he hadn’t expected it to last. Having Kane decide to establish new internal corporate divisions was a boon.

Now with Libby as his vice president…he rubbed the side of his jaw. It was going to be interesting. She had some intriguing qualities he hadn’t expected, though whether they would help or hinder him, he didn’t know.

The phone rang again and he picked it up, still deep in thought. “O’Rourke, here.”

“That sounds so cold, darlin’.”

It was his mother.

“Are you calling to remind me about the ice cream? Kane already took care of that.”

“Actually I heard about Libby’s promotion, and thought you might bring her to the party. I haven’t seen the dear child since Kane and Beth’s wedding—you know Dylan is coming, and they got on so well at the reception.”

Neil groaned. His mom liked Libby Dumont, and she liked the idea of Libby becoming a daughter-in-law even more. She’d worked on him for a while, but when it became obvious that he and Libby were grossly incompatible, she’d decided his younger brother, Dylan, was a possibility.

He had news…Dylan had no more interest in finding a bride than he did.

“Mom, don’t you think trying to match Dylan with someone else might upset Katrina?”

“Dylan can’t see Kate, either, though she’s been standin’ right in front of him for years.” Pegeen sounded quite put out, because Katrina Douglas was another name on her daughter-in-law wish list. “But invite Libby just the same.”

“All right.” There wasn’t any point in arguing, when his mother made up her mind she could teach stubborn to a mule. “I’ll see you later.”

Neil dropped his head back onto his chair. He’d started the day with a great promotion, then he’d learned his vice president would be Libby Dumont. In just a few hours they’d already had several disagreements, and he’d been painfully reminded that she was still as attractive as ever.

Beautiful, really.

In a fresh-scrubbed sort of way.

And his delightful, very Irish mother was determined to get Libby married to one of her sons, come hell or high water.

Man, was he in trouble.

At four o’clock a new message alert flashed on Neil’s computer. He opened the e-mail and found Libby’s preliminary report, listing various properties, their historical significance and other pertinent material.

Neil quickly printed the document and hurried out. He walked into Libby’s office, and his nerves went on alert. It wasn’t that she dressed provocatively. Her trim, dark blue suit accentuated the slender lines of her body without drawing attention to her curves. Problem was, he knew all about her curves and how good they felt beneath his fingers—so good he’d never forgotten it.

She was standing next to her desk, explaining something to a tall, gangly young man who looked familiar for some reason.

“Mr. O’Rourke,” the young man exclaimed when he saw Neil. He threw out a nervous hand and knocked over a cup of coffee.

Oh, jeez.

Neil remembered him now. Duncan “Dunk” Anderson. Every time he’d ever seen Dunk he’d managed to spill, break, spindle or mutilate something.

Libby grabbed a handful of tissue and began sopping up the mess. She shot a dire glance in Neil’s direction, which seemed patently unfair since it was Dunk who’d spilled the coffee.

“I’m so sorry, Libby. I can’t believe I did that.”

“It’s all right, Duncan,” she said calmly. “Why don’t you take that material over to Kane? I’ll finish up here.”

“Sure thing.” With another sideways glance at Neil, Dunk scooped a file from a nearby credenza and bolted for the door.

“Please tell me he’s only here because there’s a flu epidemic and everyone else is desperately ill,” Neil muttered.

“Duncan is highly qualified.”

“For what? The demolition derby? Oh, God, Dunk is Kane’s new executive assistant, isn’t he?”

Libby rolled her eyes. “Yes, he is. I recommended him and Kane agreed.”

Neil groaned. “Couldn’t you have chosen someone better…like Typhoid Mary? Honestly, your employee recommendations could use some help.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Except Libby did know, because a few weeks ago she had hand-picked the employee to replace Neil’s latest in a long string of secretaries. She’d had a lot of fun, too, watching him squirm over her selection. Not that it lasted, he’d quickly moved Margie Clarke into the position, instead.

“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about,” he snapped.

“Not really. Tami Berkut is intelligent, excellent on the computer, and does great phone. She’s highly qualified and very…willing. Eager to please in every way.”

Neil winced at the subtle dig in Libby’s voice. Tami Berkut—also known as Tam Tam the Barracuda—had a fondness for tight red sweaters that showed off her spectacular breasts, and an itch to sleep her way through the executive washroom. But she wasn’t a bad employee, so he’d had her reassigned to a fifty-something executive who was devoted to his mother and thoroughly disinterested in red sweaters.

“Anyway, Kane likes Duncan, and he did a great job when I was on vacation a couple years ago. Besides, he’s only nervous around you, not anyone else. I think it has something to do with that cool, superior stare of yours.”

“I don’t have a superior stare.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“I don’t.” Neil insisted, a little offended. First she’d implied he was a snob, now he was cool and superior.

He didn’t think he was better than anyone else. Okay, he should admit preferring more office ceremony than Kane. But Kane could afford to be relaxed—he owned the company, which was a far cry from being the boss’s brother who had to prove he’d earned each and every promotion and wasn’t just being given a free ride out of nepotism.

“Anyway, you make Duncan nervous,” Libby said. “He’s very nice, and quite competent as long as you aren’t around.”

“Kane needs someone who’s competent no matter what.”

She waved her hand, unperturbed. “Duncan will be. I’m going to tell him something outrageous that will make him smile, instead of spill or break something when he sees you.”

Neil’s self-protective instincts went on full alert. “You don’t know anything outrageous about me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”