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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.”