Scorned by the Boss

by Maureen Child

“Seducing me is not going to work, you know.”

“Is that what I’m doing?”

She hoped so.

No, she didn’t.

Oh, hell. Yes, she did.

He took her wine glass from suddenly nerveless fingers. Setting it on the table behind him, he turned her in his arms and stared down at her for the longest moment of her life. She felt heat pour into her body.

“You know me so well, Caitlyn,” he said softly.

“Yes, I do,” she heard herself murmur, just before he lowered his mouth to hers. “Better than you know…”

The Texan’s Secret Past

by Peggy Moreland

“You listen to me, Jase Calhoun. I agreed to run your office, not your whole house.”

She marched to the kitchen. “If you think you’re going to turn me into your personal servant,” she warned as she twisted open a can, “you’ve got another think coming. I don’t need this job. In fact, I still don’t know why I agreed to come here.”

“Because you love me.”

Feeling his breath on her neck, she whirled, unaware that he’d moved. “As a friend,” she informed him, and pushed a hand against his chest to keep him from drawing any closer. “Nothing more.”

Hiding a smile, he reached to thread a tendril of hair behind her ear. “Are you sure about that?”

Scorned by the Boss

MAUREEN CHILD

The Texan’s Secret Past

PEGGY MORELAND

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SCORNED BY THE BOSS

by

Maureen Child

MAUREEN CHILD

is a California native who loves to travel. Every chance they get, she and her husband are taking off on another research trip. The author of more than sixty books, Maureen loves a happy ending and still swears that she has the best job in the world. She lives in Southern California with her husband, two children and a golden retriever with delusions of grandeur.

You can contact Maureen via her website www.maureenchild.com.

Dear Reader,

Scorned by the Boss is the first book in a trilogy about three women who are best friends.

We all know what that means. There are things we can tell a girlfriend that we would never admit to anyone else. And in these three books, you’ll see that Caitlyn, Janine and Debbie work together to help each other through the uncharted jungles of love.

In the first book, you’ll meet Caitlyn and her boss, Jefferson Lyon. Caitlyn’s been running Jefferson’s business and personal life for years, but she’s finally had enough. When she quits her job, though, things start to get interesting…

Also, I hope you really enjoy reading Seduced by the Rich Man, which is available next month, and I hope you’ll let me know what you think of Cait, Janine and Debbie…

Happy reading,

Maureen

www.maureenchild.com

To friendship. That amazing, wonderful sense of

belonging you can only find with someone who

knows the real you and loves you anyway.

And to my friends, thanks for everything.

One

Caitlyn Monroe knocked once, then entered the lion’s den.

She was prepared, like any good lion trainer, for whatever might be waiting for her. A furious, chained beast looking for something to chew on? Probably. A pussycat? Not likely. In the three years she’d worked for Jefferson Lyon she’d learned that the man was much more likely to be snarly and aggressive than accommodating.

Jefferson was used to getting his own way. In fact, he accepted nothing less. Which was what made him both an amazingly successful businessman and a sometimes pain-in-the-neck boss.

But this she was used to. Dealing with Jefferson’s demands was normal. And after the jolt she’d had over the weekend, she was ready for the normal. The everyday. The routine. She appreciated the fact that she knew Jefferson Lyon. Knew what to expect and wouldn’t be blindsided by something shattering coming out of nowhere.

No, thanks, she thought. She’d had enough of that Saturday night.

Her boss looked up when she entered, and just for a minute, Caitlyn allowed herself to appreciate the view. Jefferson’s jaw was strong and square, his blue eyes piercing enough to see through any attempts at deception and his tawny hair cut and styled to lay fashionably at his collar. A modern-day pirate with less conscience, when it came to business, than Bluebeard.

Most of the people who worked for him walked a wide berth around the magnate. Just the sound of him coming down the halls was usually enough to send people scattering. He had the reputation of being a hard man. Not always fair about it, either. He didn’t suffer fools easily and expected—demanded—perfection.

So far, Caitlyn had been able to provide it. She ran his office and most of his life with proficiency. As Jefferson Lyon’s personal assistant, she was expected to hold her ground against his overpowering personality. Before she had come to work here, the man had gone through assistants every couple of months. But Caitlyn was the youngest of five children in her family and she was more than used to speaking up and making herself heard.

“What is it?” he snapped and lowered his gaze back to the sheaf of files strewn across his wide mahogany desk.

Situation normal, Caitlyn thought as she let her gaze slide around the huge office. The walls were painted a deep twilight-blue, and several paintings of Lyon ships at sea dotted the wide expanse. There were two plush leather sofas facing each other in front of a gas fireplace that was cold now and a conference table sat beside a wet bar on the other side of the room. Behind Jefferson’s desk, floor-to-ceiling windows provided a gorgeous view of the harbor.

“And good morning to you, too,” she said, not put off by the attitude. God knows she’d had plenty of time to adjust to it.

When she’d first started working for him, Caitlyn had foolishly thought that as his assistant, she would be sort of his partner. That they would have a working relationship that would be more than his issuing orders and her leaping to fulfill them.

Hadn’t taken long to disabuse her of that notion.

Jefferson didn’t have partners. He had employees. Thousands of them. And Caitlyn was simply one of the crowd. Still, it was a good job and she was good at it. Besides, she knew he’d be lost without her, even if he wasn’t consciously aware of that little fact.

Walking across the room, she laid a single sheet of paper down on top of the files and waited for him to pick it up and study it. “Your attorneys faxed over the numbers on the Morgan shipping line. They say it looks like a good deal.”

He glanced at her again and she saw a flash of interest. “I decide what looks like a good deal,” he reminded her.

“Right.” She bit her lip to keep from saying that if he hadn’t wanted his attorneys’ opinion, then why ask for it? It wouldn’t do any good, and frankly, he wouldn’t want to hear it. Jefferson Lyon made his own rules. He would listen to some opinions, true, but if he didn’t agree with them, then he blew them off and did whatever he thought best.

She tapped the toe of her black high-heeled shoe against the plush ocean-blue carpet. While she waited, she looked past Jefferson at the sea stretching out for what seemed forever. Passenger liners vied with cargo ships at the busy harbor. Several of those cargo ships boasted the stylized bright red lion that was the Lyon shipping company’s logo. Tugboats steered boats three times their size safely out to sea. Traffic streamed over the Vincent Thomas Bridge and sunlight glittered off the surface of the ocean like diamonds, winking.

Lyon Shipping operated out of San Pedro, California, right on top of one of the busiest harbors in the country. From here, Jefferson could turn around and look at his ships as they steamed in and out of the harbor. He could see the day-to-day workings on the docks—the heavy cranes, the dockworkers loading and offloading, the steady flow of ocean traffic that made him one of the most wealthy men in the world.

But Jefferson wasn’t the type to turn and admire the scenery. Instead, he spent most of his time with his back to the window and his gaze fixed on spreadsheets.

“Is there something else?” he asked when she didn’t leave.

She shifted her gaze to his and felt the same jolt she always did when those blue eyes of his made contact with hers. Instantly, she thought of the conversation she’d had with Peter, her now ex-fiancé, on Saturday night.

“You don’t want to marry me, Cait,” he said, shaking his head and pulling out his wallet. He yanked out a twenty, tossed it onto the table to pay for their drinks, then looked at her again. “It’s not me you’re in love with.”

Caitlyn looked at him as if he’d sprouted another head. “Hello? Wearing your ring.” She waved her hand at him, just in case he’d forgotten about the two-carat solitaire he’d presented her with just six months before. “Who else do you think I’m interested in marrying?”

Peter blew out a breath. “Isn’t it obvious? Every time we’re together, all you do is talk about Jefferson Lyon. What he did, what he said, what he’s planning.”

Did she, really? She hadn’t actually noticed. But, even if she did, so what?

“You talk about your boss, too,” Caitlyn reminded him hotly. “It’s called conversation.”

“No, it’s not just conversation. It’s him. Lyon.”

“What about him?”

“You’re in love with him.”

“What?” Caitlyn’s voice hit a shrieky sound only dogs should have been able to hear. “You’re crazy.”

“I don’t think so,” Peter said. “And I’m not going to marry someone who really wants someone else.”

“Fine,” Caitlyn said, tugging the diamond from her finger and laying it on the table in front of him. “Here. You don’t want to marry me? Take your ring. But don’t try to blame this on me, Peter.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” he said, shaking his head. “You don’t even see how you feel about that guy.”

“He’s my boss. That’s all.”

“Yeah?” Peter scooted out of the booth and stood beside the table, staring down at her. “You go right ahead thinking that, then, Cait. But just so you know, Lyon’s never going to see you as anything other than his assistant. He looks at you and sees another piece of office equipment. Nothing else.”

Caitlyn didn’t even know what to say to that. She’d been blindsided by this whole conversation. All she’d done was tell him about Jeff’s plans to buy a cruise ship and how she’d miss the trip to Portugal to check it out because of their upcoming wedding. Then Peter’s whole attitude had changed and he’d launched into the unexpected calling off of a wedding she’d spent six months putting together.

Just a month off now, the invitations had gone out, the gifts were already pouring in, substantial deposits had been made to the cliffside locale in Laguna . And now it seemed she’d be canceling everything.

Why in the world would Peter think she was in love with her boss? For god’s sake, Jefferson Lyon was arrogant, pushy, proud and, well, downright annoying. Was she supposed to hate her job? Would that have made life easier for Peter?

“I’m sorry it worked out like this,” Peter said, and started to reach out one hand toward her. He caught himself just in time, though, and let his hand fall back to his side. “I think we would have been good together.”

“You’re wrong about me,” she said, looking up at a man she’d thought to spend the rest of her life with.

“For your sake,” Peter said wistfully, “I wish that were true.”

Then he left, and Caitlyn was alone with a naked finger and a yawning emptiness inside her.

“Caitlyn!”

Jefferson’s voice snapped at her like a rifle shot and wrenched her from her memories. “Sorry, sorry.”

“Not like you to be so unfocused,” he said.

“I was just…” What? she asked herself. Are you really going to stand there and tell him that your fiancé broke up with you because he thinks you’re in love with the boss? Oh, wouldn’t that be a good time? Get it together, Caitlyn.

“Just, what?” he asked, shooting her a half-interested glance as he studied the spreadsheet in front of him.

“Nothing.” She wasn’t going to tell him. Not about canceling the wedding. Oh, she’d have to eventually, since she’d put in for four weeks of honeymoon time. And now, sadly, she wouldn’t be needing it. “I wanted to remind you—you’ve got a two o’clock appointment with the head of Simpson Furniture and a dinner date with Claudia.”

Jefferson leaned back in his deep navy-blue leather chair, folded his hands over his midsection and said, “Don’t have time for Claudia today. Cancel it, will you? And…send her something.”

Caitlyn sighed, already anticipating the conversation she’d have to have with Claudia Stevens, the latest in a long string of gorgeous models and actresses. Claudia wasn’t used to men not dropping to their knees to adore her. She wanted Jefferson Lyon’s complete attention and she was never going to get it.

Caitlyn had known this would be coming. The man always canceled out on his dates. Or, rather, he had her cancel them. To Jefferson, work always came first and his life a very slow second. In three years she’d never seen him date a woman longer than six weeks—and those that lasted that long were seriously forgiving women.

Peter was sooooo wrong about her. She could never love a man like Jefferson Lyon. There was simply no future in it.

“She won’t be happy.”

He gave her a brief conspiratorial smile. “Hence the gift. Think jewelry.”

“Fine,” she said. “Gold or silver?”

He straightened up, grabbed his pen and turned back to the sheaf of papers awaiting his attention. “Silver.”

“What was I thinking?” Caitlyn muttered—because, of course, gold wasn’t gifted until the woman in question had lasted at least three weeks. “I’ll take care of it.”

“I have every confidence in you,” he said, but she was already leaving, walking back across the immense office. “And Caitlyn?”

She stopped, turned to look at him and noticed that the sunlight filtering in through the shaded glass gilded his hair. Frowning at that stray thought, she said, “Yes?”

“No interruptions today. Except for the two o’clock, I don’t want to be disturbed.”

“Right.” She walked through the door, closed it behind her and leaned back against it.

She’d made it. Made it through without once caving in to the shakes still quivering her stomach. Made it without feeling her eyes well up or her temper spike. She’d managed to hold it together and talk to Jefferson without once letting her emotions slip through.

After all, just because her fiancé had dumped her didn’t mean life as she knew it was over.

Jefferson worked through the day, got most of the immediate problems taken care of and finally looked up around six. Behind him, the sun was spreading color across the sky as it slid into the ocean. He didn’t take the time to admire it, though. There were still plenty of things that needed his attention. Most importantly the new bid on the passenger liner he was buying. A glance at the cover letter had him wincing and stretching out one hand to hit the buzzer on the intercom.

“Caitlyn, I need to see you.”

She opened the door a minute later, her purse slung over her shoulder as if he’d caught her on her way out. “What is it?”

“This,” he said, standing up and walking across the room. He held out the paper to her and said, “Read the second paragraph.”

Jefferson watched her tuck a strand of dark blond hair behind one ear as she read the document. And he saw her expression change slightly as soon as she caught the error he’d found only moments ago. This wasn’t like her. The best assistant he’d ever had, Caitlyn simply didn’t make mistakes. It was one of the reasons they did so well together.

His world ran smoothly, just the way he wanted it to. No surprises. No jolts. Everything neatly laid out in a pattern he chose. For Caitlyn to suddenly start making errors sent unexpected ripples through his universe.

“I’ll fix it immediately,” she said, lifting her gaze to his.

“Good. But what concerns me most is that the mistake happened in the first place.” He jabbed his index finger at the line that had caught his attention. “Offering five hundred million dollars for the cruise ship I’ve already agreed to pay fifty million for is not acceptable.”

She blew out a breath that ruffled the dark blond hair over her big brown eyes. “I know. But, Jefferson, no one saw this but you. It’s not as if the offer actually went out this way.”

“It could have.”

“But it didn’t.”

He folded his arms across his chest and looked down at her. Even in her high heels, she came in a good five inches shorter than his own six feet two inches. “This isn’t like you.”

She sighed again and admitted, “I didn’t type this up. Georgia did.”

Impatience lit a fire in his belly. He was a man who expected the same perfection from his employees as he did from himself. And as his admin, Caitlyn was responsible for the paperwork generated from this office. The fact that she was subcontracting to the secretaries irritated him.

“And why was Georgia involved at all? The woman is just barely competent.” An older woman, Georgia Morris had been with his family’s company for twenty years. She was practically an institution at Lyon Shipping. But that didn’t mean that Jefferson was blind to the woman’s ineptitude.

He was all for loyalty, but he had his limits.

Instantly, though, Caitlyn went on the defensive. Her posture straightened up and her chin rose to a defiant tilt. “Georgia’s perfectly competent. She works hard. This was a simple mistake.”

“Worth four hundred and fifty million dollars.”

She winced. “She was trying to help me out.”

“And why do you suddenly need help in doing a job you’ve performed for two years?”

“Three.”

“What?”

“Three years,” she said on a huff. “I’ve worked for you for three years.”

He hadn’t realized that. But at the same time, it was as if she’d always been there. A part of his day. An integral part of his business.

“Even more of a reason you shouldn’t require assistance,” Jefferson said, baffled at the way her eyes were beginning to flash. What in hell did she have to be upset about?

As if she’d read his mind, she took a moment and deliberately tried to calm herself. A long, deep breath, a tightening of her jaw and a long exhalation passed before she spoke again.

“I was having a hard day,” she finally said. “Georgia was being nice.”

“Nice doesn’t get the work done,” Jefferson said tightly. He had no interest in why Caitlyn had been having a “hard day.” He didn’t get involved in his employees’ personal lives. Made for a quagmire in the office. Better that everyone kept their personal lives personal.

“No surprise there,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He scowled at her. “And if you’re still planning on having Georgia take over for you while you’re on your honeymoon, think again. Arrange with a temp agency to send someone here who’ll be able to get the job done without costly mistakes.”

“That won’t be necessary,” she said, slinging her purse off her shoulder and heading for her desk.

Jefferson laughed shortly and followed her. “It’s very necessary. You’ll be gone four weeks, and Georgia running this office is unacceptable—not to mention impossible.”

“No,” Caitlyn said as she pulled out her desk chair and booted up her computer. “What I meant was, it won’t be necessary to call a temp agency. I won’t be leaving, after all.”

Frowning, Jefferson walked around her desk, watching her as she set the cover letter down and prepared to retype it. It was only then he noticed that the diamond she’d worn for the last six months was missing from her left hand. This then was the reason for the hard day.

Damn it.

He scrubbed one hand across the back of his neck. He didn’t want to know about her personal life. He preferred keeping business business. If she hadn’t asked for four weeks off for a honeymoon, he might never have known that Caitlyn was getting married at all.

And now it seemed that not only wasn’t the wedding happening but now that she’d brought it up, he was going to be forced into talking about it.

“What happened to the honeymoon?”

“Can’t have one without a wedding,” she quipped brightly, but managed to avoid looking up at him.

What was one supposed to say at a time like this anyway? Sorry? Congratulations? That would be more to his way of thinking. Why anyone would want to get married and link themselves forever to one human being who would no doubt batter them with complaints and whining for the rest of their lives was beyond Jefferson.

Still, better not to offer those particular thoughts. “So it’s off.”

“That would be a yes,” she said, and clicked her mouse to open the word-processing program on her computer.

Apparently he’d been wrong. She had no more interest in talking about her ex than he had in listening to it. God knew that made his life easier. Yet, he couldn’t help wondering why she wasn’t eager to discuss it in detail.

In his experience, females liked nothing better than boring men into comas discussing their feelings, their needs, their desires, their complaints. Clearly, Caitlyn was an exception to that rule.

One eyebrow lifting, he watched as her small, efficient hands moved over the keyboard like a concert pianist’s. Smooth, fast, she was finished in moments and hitting the print button. As a fresh sheet of paper slid from the printer, she reached over, plucked it up and handed it to him.

“There. Crisis averted.”

He studied it briefly, nodded at the change made, then looked at her again. Whatever the reason behind the cancellation of her wedding, she seemed to be handling it well. For which he was grateful. He didn’t want a weeping woman hanging about the office. He wanted his life, his world to travel on in the same way it always had. Seamlessly.

“Thanks.”

She nodded, turned off the computer and gathered up her purse again. “If that’s all, I’m taking off.”

“Fine,” he said, stepping back, already headed back for his office. Then something occurred to him and he stopped on the threshold and looked at her. “Since you’re not getting married, after all, I’m assuming you’ll be available for the trip to Portugal.”

“What?”

Walking into his office, Jefferson kept talking, assuming—rightly—that she would be following after him. “We leave in three weeks. I want to check out the new cruise ship in person. I’ll need you there with me. And since your plans have changed, I see no reason why you shouldn’t be there.”

He sat behind his desk, set the new cover letter atop the official offer and leaned back in his chair as she approached. His gaze narrowed as he noticed the flash of fire in her eyes and the tight slash of her mouth.

“That’s it?” she said. “That’s all you’ve got to say.”

“About what?”

“About my not getting married.”

“What more should I say?”

“Oh,” she countered, “nothing at all.” But her tone clearly indicated she’d expected something more.

“If you’re looking for my condolences, fine. You have them.”

“Wow.” She slapped one hand to her chest and widened her eyes in feigned shock. “That was just so heartfelt, Jefferson. Wait just a minute while I catch my breath.”

“I beg your pardon?” Standing up now, he faced her and watched as thoughts, emotions churned across the surface of her eyes. In the years they had worked together Caitlyn had never become emotional. Sarcastic, yes. But she’d kept their relationship as businesslike as he had. Until just this moment.

“You’re not sorry at all. You’re just glad that I’ll be at your beck and call.”

“You’re always at my beck and call,” he pointed out, not sure exactly where the anger was coming from.

“Oh, for god’s sake. I am, aren’t I?” she asked, staring at him as though she’d never seen him before.

“Why wouldn’t you be?” Straightening up, he laid both hands atop his desk.

“You’re right,” she said. “That’s my job. And I’m good at it. Too good, probably, which is why this is so twisted and messed up now. But Peter was so wrong.”

“Peter? Who’s Peter?”

“My fiancé.” She shot him a withering glance. “My god, I was engaged to the man for six months and you didn’t even know his name.”

“Why would I know the damned man’s name?” Jefferson asked, shoving his hands into his slacks pockets. This conversation was taking a turn he didn’t care for.

“Because,” she pointed out, glaring at him, “in human cultures, it’s considered normal behavior to be interested in your fellow workers.”

He snorted. “You’re not a fellow worker,” he pointed out. “You’re my employee.”

She stared at him, dumbfounded. “And that’s it?”

“What more is there?”

“You know,” Caitlyn snapped, tugging at the purse strap hitched over her shoulder, “I really believe you actually mean that. You have no clue. None whatsoever.”

“About what?”

“If you don’t know, I couldn’t possibly explain it to you.”

“Aah, the last resort of the cornered female,” he said, shaking his head now. “I expected better of you, Caitlyn.”

“And I expected…” She stopped, blew out a hard breath that puffed her bangs up off her forehead so that he was treated to another peek at the dangerous sparks shooting in her eyes. “I don’t know why I expected anything different. So you know what? Never mind.”

“Excellent idea,” Jefferson said, grabbing the opportunity to end this discussion as quickly as possible. For whatever reason, his steady, dependable assistant had slipped off her mental track. “We’ll forget this conversation ever took place.”

“You will, too, won’t you?” Caitlyn tightened her grip on the strap of her purse, turned and headed for the door. “Well, I won’t be forgetting anytime soon, Jefferson.”

She was gone a moment later and he was left with irritation pulsing inside. He wasn’t accustomed to anyone walking out on him. And he didn’t like it.

Two

“Men suck.” Disgusted, Debbie Harris lifted her appletini high.

“Hear, hear!” Janine Shaker picked up her Cosmo and held it poised for a toast.

“Preaching to the choir,” Caitlyn said, and lifted her glass to clink against the rims of her friends’ glasses. Then she took a long sip of her raspberry martini and blew out a breath.

After the weekend she’d had, not to mention that last conversation with Jefferson, it was good to be with her friends. Women who understood. Women she could count on, no matter what.

“Are you okay, honey?” Debbie asked, always the one with the biggest heart and the soul most easily bruised. “I mean, really okay?”

“I’m fine,” Caitlyn said, and surprised herself with the truth of the statement. Good god. She’d been poised to marry Peter, for heaven’s sake. Shouldn’t she be in mourning? Shouldn’t she be weeping miserably in a corner somewhere?

Sure, she’d done some crying over the weekend, but if Peter really had been the love of her life, then wouldn’t she be feeling more…shattered? But she didn’t. And somehow that was even sadder than the breakup of her engagement.

“I cannot believe Peter thinks you’re in love with your boss,” Janine said on a snort of laughter. “Lyon makes you nuts.”

“I think Peter was just scared and needed a reason to back out of the wedding, the big weenie,” Debbie said.

“Yeah, but accusing her of being in love with Lyon?” Janine shook her head. “That’s really stretching.”

At the moment, Caitlyn could hardly even think about Jefferson Lyon without gritting her teeth. In love with him? Not a chance. Attracted? Sure. What red-blooded, breathing woman wouldn’t be? But attraction was where it started and ended.

“Don’t even get me started on Jefferson Lyon,” Caitlyn muttered, and snatched a tortilla chip from the basket in the middle of the table. As she crunched down hard on it, only half pretending she was snapping her boss’s neck in half, she told her friends, “When Jefferson found out the wedding was off, he just said, ‘Oh, good. You can go to Portugal with me after all.’ No I’m sorry, Caitlyn. Are you all right? Do you need to take some time off? Do you want me to kill the jerk for you?” She took a sip of her drink and reached for another chip. “I’m telling you, I came within a hair of quitting.”

“You should’ve,” Debbie said. “Men suck.”

“Where’ve I heard that before?” Janine wondered aloud.

“Funny.” Debbie smirked at her, then turned her gaze back on Caitlyn. “Anyway, Peter obviously had some commitment issues and was just using Lyon as a handy excuse.”

“Well, it was a stupid one,” Caitlyn said. She refused to think about the quick whip of something hot and delicious that usually zapped her whenever she was too close to Jefferson. That was just lust. Or not even that. Just…appreciation for a good-looking guy. That was it. She nodded. Appreciation. Attraction. Nothing else.

“Duh.” Janine shook her head. “But the upside is he gave you a month to call it off. Unlike my own unlamented ex-fiancé, John, who thought three days was more than enough time.”

True. Janine’s ex-fiancé had left her a note, three days before their simple backyard wedding that read only, Sorry, babe. This isn’t for me. Debbie was right, Caitlyn thought. Men really did suck.

“Did you tell your mom yet?” Debbie asked the question, already wincing in anticipation of the answer.

Yep, these friends knew her well. Knew her family. Knew what kind of hell her mother was going to put her through for ruining her only shot at being mother of the bride.

“Yeah, that was a good time.” Caitlyn closed her eyes and sighed, remembering the look of stunned shock, disappointment and frustration that clouded her mom’s face just yesterday when she’d dropped by her parents’ house to deliver the blow.

“Guessing she didn’t take it well?” Janine asked.

“You could say that. You would have thought I’d… No, I can’t even think of anything that could rival how this news hit Mom. She’s had her dress for the wedding since the week after Peter proposed,” she reminded them unnecessarily. “‘Four times,’ she told me yesterday, ‘four times I was mother of the groom. It was my turn to be Mother Of The Bride.’”

“Yikes,” Debbie muttered.

“That about covers it,” Caitlyn said. “She even says the words Mother Of The Bride in capital letters. She’s been so enjoying being in on everything. Heck, the only way I got to pick my own site was because Peter and I were paying for the wedding ourselves. Otherwise mom would have found a cathedral or something. She really was looking forward to a big show. I was her only shot at the brass ring.”

“She’s gonna make you pay.”

Janine grumbled, “She should be making Peter pay.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Caitlyn said with a shake of her head. “The point is it’s over. And now our little circle of dumpdom is complete.”

Debbie looked at her across the table. “I just can’t believe Peter turned out to be a stinker. He seemed so nice.”

Janine finished the last of her drink and scowled down at the empty glass. “They all seemed nice, at first. Mike was great to you until you found out about the other two wives he already had.”

It was Caitlyn’s turn to wince now. Six months ago Debbie had been within a couple of weeks of her own wedding, a planned elopement to Vegas, when she intercepted a phone call for her fiancé, Mike, at his place. Turned out that the woman on the line was Mike’s wife. And by the time it all got sorted out, yet another wife had been discovered. And now Mike was in jail, where every good bigamist should land.

“True,” Debbie mused, and rubbed the empty spot on her ring finger where her antique moonstone had shone brightly up until six months ago. Then she shrugged and looked at Janine. “You were in the worst shape of all of us. Only three days to cancel everything.”

Janine nodded. “John always did have a flair for the dramatic. The creep.”

“It’s been a pretty rotten year, hasn’t it?” Debbie flipped her long blond hair back over her shoulder and looked from Janine to Caitlyn. “Romance wise, I mean.”

“Fair to say.” Janine signaled the waitress by holding up her nearly empty glass. “What’re the odds that all three of us would get engaged and then unengaged in the same year?”

“There’s a cosmic kind of symmetry in it, I admit,” Caitlyn said on a sigh. Running the tips of her fingers through the water mark her glass had left on the glossy tabletop, she added, “At least we have each other.”

“Thank god.” Janine’s brown eyes narrowed as she chewed on the end of a swizzle stick.

Caitlyn took another drink of raspberry-flavored liquor and licked a stray drop off her bottom lip. “All three of us engaged, then dumped. What does that say about us?”

“That we’re too good for the available men around here?” Janine offered, grinning.

“Well, sure, that,” Debbie said with a smile. “But it also says here we are. Monday night and we’re at the same table in the same bar where we’ve been meeting for the last five years.”

“Hey, I like On The Pier,” Janine said, signaling again to the waitress by holding up her empty glass.

“We all do,” Caitlyn threw in, draining her martini to be ready for the second round already on its way. Idly she glanced across the crowded room. There were a few suits, men fresh from work, stopping by to have a quick drink on the way home. But, mostly, the crowd was made up of people like Caitlyn and her friends—relaxed, in jeans and T-shirts, looking to unwind in a comfortable spot.

On The Pier, a tiny neighborhood bar in Long Beach, had been their designated meeting place since they’d all turned twenty-one. Every Monday night, no matter what, the three women had a standing date for drinks and gossip.

And over the last year, as they’d taken turns commiserating with each other over broken engagements, these Monday-night get-togethers had become more important than ever. Caitlyn ran her fingertip around the rim of her glass and studied her two friends thoughtfully. She found herself smiling in spite of the heavy, cold lump settled in the pit of her stomach. The three of them had been friends since high school, when they’d met in detention hall.

Raised with four older brothers, Caitlyn had been hungry for a sister. And with Debbie and Janine she’d found two. They were closer to her than anyone else she knew. “It’s a great neighborhood bar and we know everybody here. It’s our comfort zone.”

“Exactly!” Debbie gulped the last of her drink and set her glass down. Leaning her elbows on the table in front of her, she glanced at each of her friends and said, “That’s my point. We’re all in a comfort zone. We each got dumped and we’re still here. Same spot. Same day. Same time.”

“So?” Janine paused when their waitress delivered their fresh drinks and took away the empty glasses.

When the waitress had gone, Debbie grabbed hers and took a quick gulp of the pale green liquor. “So, why are we content to stay in a comfort zone? Why don’t we break loose? Try something new?”

Caitlyn frowned at her. “Like what?”

“Like…” Debbie paused. “I don’t know offhand. But we should do something.”

“Maybe—” Janine said, then quickly closed her mouth and shook her head. “Nope. Never mind.”

“What?”

“No way do you get to say that and then stop,” Caitlyn protested.

“Fine.” Janine grinned at each of them, then took a sip of her drink. “I’ve been thinking about this for a couple of days now. None of us got married. None of us got the honeymoon we were planning on. And none of us has spent the money we had been saving up for the whole wedding/honeymoon extravaganza.”

“And…” Debbie prompted.

“And,” Janine said, “last night it suddenly occurred to me—why don’t we spend that money together?”

“How?” Caitlyn asked, intrigued enough to listen.

“On a blowout no-holds-barred vacation,” Janine said, clearly warming up to her own idea as she spoke. Her eyes flashed and her grin spread. “I say we each take the four weeks’ time we were going to use for our honeymoons and go on a trip together. We go to some fabulous resort, get waited on, drink, play and get laid as often as humanly possible.”

“You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?” Debbie said.

“Well, yeah,” Janine allowed. “Since Saturday night, when Caitlyn called to tell us about Peter. Really pissed me off. And then I realized that all three of us have had a crappy year. Seems like we owe ourselves a good time.”

Debbie blew out a breath, took a gulp of her drink, then set the glass down on the table. “It does sound good.”

Caitlyn’s blood was humming. She felt excitement stir. She’d had a rotten weekend, a lousy day. And didn’t she deserve to have a little fun? This might be just the ticket. Nodding, she said, “It’s a great idea. When do we go?”

Janine looked at the two of them and laughed. “Two weeks. Enough time to get someone to cover for us at work and not so long that we’ll convince ourselves not to go.”

“She’s right, Caitlyn. If we don’t do it now,” Debbie cautioned, “we’ll talk ourselves out of it.”

“Good point,” Caitlyn said, knowing that she at least would second-guess the whole “fun” principle until she had convinced herself to save the money and go to work like a good girl. “Okay, then, two weeks. If we can get reservations.”

“Uh, hello? Reservations where?” Debbie asked.

The voices in the bar blurred into a soft background noise, mixed with a slow song drifting from the old jukebox in a corner. Outside, a cold ocean wind rattled against the glass, but inside, Janine’s eyes were flashing as she leaned across the table and whispered, “Fantasies.”

“Whoa.” Debbie slouched back in her chair.

“Really?” Caitlyn grabbed her drink and began to consider the possibilities, hardly listening as Janine kept talking. Fantasies was one of the most exclusive, indulgent resort islands in the world. Everything Caitlyn had read about the place suggested wild nights and glorious days filled with romance and pampering.

Just what the three of them needed.

“We’ll never be able to get reservations there,” Debbie protested.

“Already have ’em,” Janine said with a wink. “I called yesterday and put a deposit down on three rooms. They’d had a few cancellations, so we got lucky. I think it’s fate’s way of telling us this is our time. We need to do it.”

“I can’t believe you’ve already got the rooms.”

“Well,” Janine said, “I figured if I couldn’t talk you guys into it, I could always cancel the reservations.”

A bubble of excitement rose inside Caitlyn and she reached for it greedily. Fantasies. She’d read so much about the place in magazines and celebrity gossip columns, how could she refuse to go in person with her two closest friends? Slapping one hand on the center of the table, she said, “I’m in.”

“Well, we already know I’m in, since it was my idea.” Janine covered Caitlyn’s hand with her own and then both of them turned to look at Debbie.

“This is crazy—you guys know that, right? I mean, we’re just taking off and blowing a ton of money on a few weeks at a resort on a total whim.” Debbie chewed at her bottom lip, looking from one friend to the other and back again.

“What’s your point?” Janine asked.

“Don’t have one,” Debbie said, and laid her hand on top of her friends’. “I was just saying. Anyway, I’m in, too.”

“This is gonna be great,” Caitlyn said, and leaned back in her chair. “I so need this. We all need to get away for a while.”

“Some of us more than others,” Debbie muttered, and nodded in the direction of the door.

“What’s he doing here?” Janine whispered.

Curious, Caitlyn turned in her seat and felt her stomach drop to her toes. Jefferson Lyon walked into the bar as if he owned the place. He stood like a well-dressed statue, his sharp blue eyes scraping the crowd until he found her. Then his gaze narrowed and he headed toward her like a man on a mission.

“Wow,” Debbie whispered. “I never would have guessed he’d come to a place like this.”

“Yeah,” Janine said, “definitely not his style.”

Caitlyn had to agree. In a crowd of blue jeans and board shorts, his Armani suit stood out like a flashing neon light. Of course, Jefferson Lyon stood out in any crowd. He just had that kind of aura. All powerful and sexy and—

Cut that thought off at the pass, she told herself firmly as she stood up to meet him. Just as she told herself that the quick spurt of something hot and heavy moving through her bloodstream was simple surprise at seeing him here.

Heck, she hadn’t even known he’d been aware of On The Pier’s existence.

Her gaze locked on him, but she was also aware of how every female in the room watched him move with open admiration. And how could she blame them? He had a way of walking that suggested both power and languor. He moved like a man who knew how to take charge, but liked to take his time about it. Which, of course, only made a woman wonder what that kind of mixture would be like in bed.

Oh, boy.

“Caitlyn,” he said when he was close enough to be heard over the muttering crowd.

“Jefferson, what are you doing here?” Her voice came out a little sharper than she’d planned.

One eyebrow lifted. “I needed to see you about something that couldn’t wait, obviously.”

“How’d you know where I’d be?”

“It’s Monday night. You’re always here.”

That little nugget of information staggered her. He hadn’t known her fiancé’s name, but he knew she came to this tiny bar every Monday night? “I know I am. How did you know I am?”

He shrugged, glanced at her friends, then looked back into her eyes. “You must have mentioned it.”

And he’d remembered?

Shaking her head, Caitlyn told herself it didn’t matter how he’d found her. “So what did you want, Jefferson?”

He looked down at her friends, watching them with avid interest. Nodding, he then dismissed them entirely and shifted a look around the bar, as if unsatisfied to find himself surrounded by so many people. Taking her upper arm in a firm grip, he half steered her, half dragged her, back to the entryway, where things were a little less crowded.

Caitlyn tried not to think about the tiny spears of heat the touch of his hand sent zipping through her system. She’d clearly had one too many martinis. Once free of the main room, she pulled out of his grasp, crossed her arms over her chest and tipped her head to one side, looking up at him. “What was so important it couldn’t have waited until tomorrow?”

Jefferson stared down at her and realized just how different Caitlyn looked when away from the office. He was so used to her tidy, professional appearance, seeing her with her hair down and loose around her shoulders was more distracting than he would have expected. She wore faded, worn blue jeans that clung to her body like a second skin, a scoop-necked pale blue T-shirt that showed just a hint of cleavage and sandals that displayed long, elegant toes painted fire-engine red.

Even over the combined scents filling the air he could smell her perfume, something light and flowery that she never wore in the office. This was why he preferred business relationships to be kept strictly business. He didn’t want to know that Caitlyn liked red nail polish. Or that she smelled like a damn garden. Or that she had a lush figure hidden beneath the boring business suits she wore to work.

Frowning to himself, he pushed away his wandering thoughts. He hadn’t come to be sociable, after all.

“My father called tonight. He needs me in Seattle tomorrow afternoon. So I’ll need you in the office early to take care of a few things before I leave.”

Instantly, her eyes widened. “Is your father all right?”

“He’s fine,” Jefferson said, somehow pleased that she had cared enough to ask. His father had officially retired as head of the company two years ago, but he’d kept a hand in ever since, unable or unwilling to let go. Then three months ago he’d had a major heart attack and was still recuperating.

Odd, but Jefferson was only now acknowledging that Caitlyn had been the only person he’d talked to about his father’s health. So much for keeping personal lives separate from work.

“Good. I’m glad.” She stared at him for a long minute. “But you couldn’t have called me with this information?”

He could have. Should have. But he’d come for a purpose. To remind her just who was in charge in this relationship. He was the boss. He called the shots. She thought she could stomp out of his office in some kind of female huff? Well, showing up here in person reminded her that Jefferson always got the last word.

Of course, he hadn’t intended on hunting her down in this dinky little bar. He’d planned on driving straight to his condo in Seal Beach. But the more he’d thought about her irritated attitude, the more it had annoyed him. All he knew for sure was that she’d been in the back of his mind when he’d left the office. And for whatever reason, he’d driven to the one place he’d known he’d be able to find her.

“It’s not that far out of the way for me,” he said, and turned when yet another customer shoved through the front door. Irritated, Jefferson caught the door, glared at the surfer stumbling through it, then turned his gaze back to Caitlyn. She was still watching him, her brown eyes glittering with the reflected lights of the room. “Anyway…my flight out is at ten, so I’ll expect to see you at six in the morning.”

“Fine, I’ll be there.” She turned to go back to her friends.

He grabbed her arm to stop her, his fingers closing around her warm, smooth skin. Damned if he’d just stand there and let her walk away from him. Again.

But as soon as he noticed that he was liking the feel of her beneath his fingers, he let her go. Then he grabbed the door behind him, yanked it open and walked through it. Stopping on the threshold, he looked back at her, pleased he was getting the last word tonight after all. “Fine. I’ll see you then.”

Three

Caitlyn arrived at a quarter to six in the morning to find Jefferson already on the phone in his office. No surprise there. It wasn’t unusual for him to be at work hours before everyone else. After all, with contacts and business dealings all over the world, most of his phone calls had to be made early to accommodate time changes.

He’d also left a stack of files on her desk, and after making a fresh pot of coffee, she jumped right in. It was better to keep her mind busy. Too busy to think about what she and her friends had decided to do. Because, if she started thinking about it, she just might back out.

“Which I am not going to do,” she muttered with determination.

Behind her desk, the rising sun was just streaking across the sky in shades of lavender and gold. The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air and eased the jump in the pit of her stomach. In the corner, the fax machine rang, then hummed busily as it spat several sheets of paper out into a tray.

Caitlyn walked over to pick them up, gave them a quick glance. Bids from other, smaller shipping companies hoping to be a subcontractor for Lyon Shipping. Business as usual, she thought, then carried them to her desk to staple together and tuck into a file. There was always plenty to do. She’d always loved that about the job. There was never a moment in the day where she was bored enough to watch the clock, eager to escape.

The phone rang and she reached for it. Her gaze noted that the light for line two was still on, so Jefferson wasn’t available.

“Lyon Shipping.”

“Well,” a deep, familiar voice said. “Caitlyn, love, you’re at work early this morning.”

She rolled her eyes and grinned. Max Striver, President and CEO of Striver Shipping, always did the subtle-flirting thing. But he was never annoying about it. His British accent flavored his speech, and Caitlyn could hear the smile in his voice.

“Good morning, Mr. Striver. How’re things in London?”

“Max, Caitlyn,” the man urged. “I’ve asked you to call me Max. And London is a ridiculously lonely place. You should come and visit me. Make the old girl shine.”

“I’ll put it on my list,” Caitlyn said, still smiling as she tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder and continued shuffling the files on her desk. “Mr. Lyon’s on the other line, Max. Can you hold? Or do you want him to call you back?”

“If you’re willing to spend a moment or two talking to me, I’ll wait.”

She could work and talk, Caitlyn thought. “What will we talk about, then?”

“How about when you’re going to quit working for that surly American and come to work for me?”

Caitlyn sighed. “Max, you don’t really want me to work for you. You only want to deprive Mr. Lyon of my expertise.”

“A little of both, actually, love,” he said, and his voice dropped a notch or two.

Seriously, accents should be illegal. They did something quivery to the pit of Caitlyn’s stomach even when she knew Max Striver was no more interested in having her work for him than he was in moving to Tucson.

“He works you much too hard. While I, on the other hand,” Max insisted, “am a very understanding employer. Good hours, better pay and, of course…me.”

The light on Jefferson’s phone line went out and Caitlyn said, “I’ll keep it in mind, Max. Meanwhile, the boss is available. Hold on for a moment?”

She put him on hold, buzzed Jefferson’s phone and when he answered, said, “Max Striver on line one.”

“Damnit,” Jefferson muttered. “What’s he want?”

“Me, working for him,” she said.

“Still? You’d think he’d have gotten it through his thick head by now that there’s no way you’d leave Lyon Shipping.” The grumble in his voice was clear just before he disconnected and picked up the other line.

“What is it, Max?” Jefferson leaned back in his chair and swiveled it around until he was staring out at the dock below and the ocean beyond.

“Jefferson, old friend, do I need a reason for calling?”

“Usually.”

He inched forward, admiring the view. A solitary tugboat, encrusted with the Lyon Shipping logo, sailed across the harbor, a frothy whip of ripples in its wake. Longshoremen moved across the docks, driving loaders and swinging nets filled with cargo off the decks of ships.

This was Jefferson’s world.

He’d learned the family business from the ground up. His father didn’t believe in taking the easy way and hadn’t been willing to allow his son to simply step into the executive level without knowing about the men who made this company run.

Now he ran one of the most successful shipping companies in the world and he knew how to get the best out of his employees. Hadn’t he remained calm and in control during Caitlyn’s emotional meltdown yesterday?

He smiled to himself as he listened to the fax machine in the outer room. Even now, Caitlyn was efficiently bringing order to chaos. Everything was as it should be. As he’d known it would be once she had had a chance to calm down.

Just as he knew that Max would never be able to steal her away to work for Striver. Caitlyn’s own sense of loyalty would prevent her from leaving him for a competitor.

“Jefferson? You still there?”

He frowned slightly as he realized he’d allowed his mind to drift away from the business at hand. And when dealing with Max Striver, it paid to keep your mind on business. “I’m here, Max. And I’m busy.”

“Oh, I’m sure. I’ll only keep you a minute. Just wanted to let you know I heard about your trip to Portugal.”

“And…”

“And I understand that the shipyard there has come to a grinding halt due to a strike.”

“It was settled last week,” Jefferson said, gritting his teeth as he forced a smile into his voice. “Everything’s back on schedule.”

“Oh, happy to hear it.”

“Yeah,” Jefferson said. “I’m sure.”

He and Max had been competing for years—at everything from racquetball to gross tonnage shipped. Now, with the first of the Lyon cruise ships ready to set sail in just under six weeks, Max was no doubt hoping to beat Jefferson to the prime Atlantic routes.

“As it happens, I am,” Max assured him. “We can’t really have a competition if your boat never gets off the dock, can we? We’re going to have a month’s head start on you as it is.”

Jefferson picked up his sterling-silver pen, tapped it against the desktop, then tossed it down. Leaning back in his leather chair, he stared up at the ceiling and smiled. “From what I hear, you should be more interested in what’s happening to your own ship.”

There was a pause in which Jefferson imagined Max sitting straight up in his chair and glaring at his reflection in the mirror across from his desk. A good image.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Jefferson said, enjoying himself more now, “my man in France tells me that the new Striver ocean liner is having some trouble keeping its chefs.”

“Lies.”

“Uh-huh.” Grinning now, Jefferson said, “You know, if you knew how to treat employees, Max, your new chef wouldn’t be on his way to Portugal right now to check out the kitchen on the new Lyon cruise ship.”

“You stole him away, did you?”

“Wasn’t even difficult,” Jefferson admitted. “Seriously, Max, you should have offered to pay the man what he’s worth.”

A long moment passed before Max chuckled. Then he said, “You win this round, Jeff. But the game’s not over.”

When he hung up, Jefferson was still smiling. Caitlyn was busy running his office, he’d managed to one-up Max—and it wasn’t even eight in the morning yet.

Caitlyn’s fingers flew across the keyboard as she typed up one of several memos that would be distributed throughout the company. Amazing, really, she thought, her mind free to race even while she was busy transcribing Jefferson’s pitiful penmanship.

He didn’t even consider for a moment that she might one day take Max up on his offer of a job. “There’s no way you’d leave, Caitlyn,” she muttered, repeating his words with a bit more snide in her tone, then adding a few more things that he was no doubt thinking but hadn’t said. “You’re just too reliable. You’re like my trusty dog, Caitlyn. Always there. Happy to help. Grateful for a stupid pat on the head.”

It wasn’t so much that she resented the fact he wasn’t worried about keeping her on as his assistant, she told herself firmly as she turned to reach for the memo as it shot out of the printer. It’s that she resented the fact he wasn’t worried about keeping her on as his assistant!

Shouldn’t he be worried? Shouldn’t he at least have the decency to say, I hope you never leave, Caitlyn. You’re too important to me. To the company.

Right. Like that would ever happen.

She shook her head, told herself she should be flattered that her boss was so sure of her loyalty. But that just didn’t work. Instead, she was really irritated that it didn’t bother him at all for one of his top competitors to continually be offering her a job.

“See?” she whispered. “This is why you need to take a break. You need that trip, Caitlyn. It’ll be good to get away from everything for a while. It’ll be good for Jefferson Lyon to have to run this place without you for a while. Maybe then he’d show some gratitude. Maybe then he’d notice you and—”

No. What was she saying?

She wasn’t trying to get him to notice her as a woman.

Just as a person.

So, yes, she should go. Think about herself first for a change and just take off. Be adventurous.

Yet, even as she said the words, her conscience was arguing with her. There was no point in going away. She wasn’t getting married, didn’t have a honeymoon to go on. So surely she should stay and work. Do the responsible thing. Do the right thing, as she always did.

Good old Caitlyn. By-the-book, follow-the-rules Caitlyn. Don’t rock the boat. Don’t color outside the lines.

“God, I’m so boring.” She propped her elbows on the desk and dropped her head into her hands. “Pitiful. Seriously pitiful. Twenty-six years old and I’ve never done a damn thing just for myself. Isn’t it about time, Caitlyn?” Her voice was muffled against her hands and that was probably just as well. “Don’t you owe it to yourself to get out there and see some of the world and let the world see you?”

Sure, it was an outrageously expensive vacation. But didn’t she deserve a little pampering? Didn’t she owe it to herself to relax and recharge?

“God, now I’m starting to sound like Janine.” She straightened up and smiled to herself as she remembered how her friend had spent the better part of an hour convincing her and Debbie that they were doing the right thing by going to Fantasies.

“Who’s Janine?”

Caitlyn jolted at the sound of Jefferson’s deep voice coming from right behind her. Then she laid one hand against her galloping heart and looked up at him, shaking her head. “You know, it’d probably be easier to kill me if you just hit me over the head, rather than going for the old stop-her-heart routine.”

“You knew I was here.”

“You were on the phone,” she pointed out.

“Not now,” he said. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” He wasn’t wearing his suit jacket. The sleeves of his pinstriped white shirt were rolled back to the elbows over tanned forearms and the collar of his shirt was gaping open behind a loosened knot in his navy-blue tie. Leaning one shoulder against the doorjamb, he asked again, “So. Who’s Janine?”

“A friend,” Caitlyn said, turning her gaze back to the stack of files on her desk. God, how much else had he heard? Had he been standing there the whole time she’d been muttering about how boring she was? Perfect. That was just perfect. “You saw her at the bar last night.”

“The tiny blonde or the tall spiky-haired brunette?”

“Her hair is not spiky,” Caitlyn argued, “it’s tousled.”

“By a Weedwacker.”

She’d dismiss that one. Why the interest, though? Was he trying to be nice? Because he felt guilty about not even knowing her fiancé’s name? No. That couldn’t be it. Jefferson Lyon didn’t do guilt. So why the friendly banter? Why not just shut himself up in his office as he did every other day? Was it the early-morning quiet of the building? With only him and her there to work?

Did it even matter?

“You weren’t on long with Max,” she said in a blatant attempt to change the subject.

“No.” Jefferson plowed one hand through his hair. His eyes narrowed and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “He only called to goad me about the strike in Portugal and to remind me that his ship will be ready nearly a full month before ours.”

“Aah.” The competitors were at it again.

Jefferson shoved both hands into his slacks pockets and said, “But at least I got to remind him that we stole his top chef. Besides, Max is still stung over losing the Franco contract to us last year.”

Caitlyn smiled up at her boss. That had been a real coup. Nailing down the shipping contract for Franco Technologies had taken her and Jefferson more than six months to complete. “Well, that had to make you feel better.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “True. Still, if Striver Cruise Lines opens a full month ahead of Lyon, he’s going to be able to get the prime routes.”

“His first ship is smaller.”

His gaze snapped to hers. “You’re sure?”

“First thing I did this morning,” she admitted, handing him a sheet of paper that had come through on the fax just ahead of the bid from the smaller shipping company in Germany. “The shipyard in France where Max’s ship is being finalized was very helpful. I simply asked for an example of their latest work, and they were happy to send me the full specs of the cruise liner they’re finishing at the moment. And ours is at least three hundred feet longer. Better built for the Atlantic routes.”

He tapped the sheet of paper with the tips of his fingers and gave her a smile that lit up her insides like a flash of neon. Oh, good god. She really did need that vacation.

Getting a firm grip on clearly hysterical hormones, she shifted and turned in her chair, keeping her gaze determinedly fixed on her desk. “Is there anything else you wanted, Jefferson?”

“Yeah. Actually, I wanted to make sure you had the arrangements for the Portugal trip locked down.”

Glad to have him shift back to business as usual, Caitlyn shifted on her chair, picked up a manila folder and handed it to him. “All the details are right there. The Palacio Estoril is holding your usual suite. Your pilot’s notified, so the company jet will be ready whenever you are. And the meetings at the shipyard are set up. The times are all listed there and the hotel will provide a car and driver.”

He idly flipped through the papers, then glanced at her as he turned to head back into his office. “Get yourself a suite, too.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“I know that, but we may as well both be comfortable.”

“No,” she said, taking a deep breath and holding it just long enough to quiet the ripples in the pit of her stomach. This wasn’t going to be easy. Nothing with Jefferson ever was. “That’s not what I meant.”

Only yesterday, she’d told him she wasn’t getting married and he’d assumed she’d be available for this business trip to Portugal. Now she had to tell him she’d be taking her four weeks off, anyway. And she didn’t want to be sitting down when she did it. Better to be standing on her own two feet and less at a disadvantage.

That thought clearly in mind, she stood up, walked around him to the coffeepot and refilled her cup.

“What’re you talking about?”

“I won’t be going with you to Portugal after all, Jefferson. I’m taking my four weeks’ vacation.”

He frowned and his sharp blue eyes narrowed. “You’re not getting married—why do you need the time?”

“Because I put in for it and I want it.”

He pushed away from the wall and stalked across the room. Stopping right beside her, he picked up the coffeepot, filled a cup for himself and took a sip before shifting a look at her. “It’s not convenient right now.”

Her fingers tightened on the handle of the cup. “Of course it’s convenient. I put in for this time nearly six months ago. Everything’s arranged.”

“Things have changed.”

“What things?” She still had to tip her head back to look at him, and just at that moment, she wished she stood taller than her five feet eight inches.

“You’re not getting married now. Therefore, you’re able to accompany me to Portugal.”

“You don’t need me there, Jefferson.”

Those eyes of his focused on her and she felt the sheer power that shone from the man. “I decide what I need, Caitlyn. And as my assistant, your presence is required.”

She swallowed hard. “Tough.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Setting her coffee cup down—because her hands were shaking—Caitlyn blew out a breath and told herself that if she was ever going to stand up for herself, now was the time to start. “You heard me. I work for you, Jefferson, but I’m not your indentured servant. I put in for that vacation time. It’s mine and I’m taking it.”

He gave her a long, narrowed look. “Take it after the Portugal trip.”

“No. Not this time.”

Damn it, she wasn’t going to cave to him. Not today.

The year before, her bags had been packed, she’d had her plane ticket to Florida in her purse along with the itinerary for the cruise she’d spent three months planning. Jefferson had called just as she’d been getting into a cab, insisting she cancel her plans and accompany him to a shipyard in France. Her cruise to the Bahamas had sailed without her and she’d spent the next two weeks taking notes and in general being Jefferson’s gofer.

Granted, France wasn’t exactly a hardship…though she hadn’t had five minutes to herself to explore the countryside or get into Paris.

And the year before that, her long-awaited trip to Ireland had been cut short when Jefferson flew the company jet into Shannon Airport and insisted she join him for an important conference in Brazil.

So this time Caitlyn was sticking to her guns.

She was going on this trip with her friends, and if Jefferson Lyon didn’t like it…too bad. Caitlyn felt a buzz through her system as she silently declared her own private Independence Day. No more pesky work ethic. No more putting her own wants and needs on the back burner to make sure everyone else got just what they wanted.

I am Caitlyn, hear me roar, she thought, and lifted her chin defiantly as she faced down her boss.

Four

“You’re being selfish.”

“I’m selfish?” Caitlyn repeated, completely flabbergasted that he could even say such a thing. The man who believed the world revolved around him? The man who expected everyone in his life to jump whenever he entered a room? The man who’d ruined every vacation she’d ever tried to take with his own demands? “Are you serious?”

“This isn’t like you, Caitlyn,” he said tightly, his voice dropping to a snarl that usually had his employees in a mad dash for the closest exit.

“No,” she agreed, not even flustered by that snarl. She’d heard it too often to be dismayed by it at this late date. “It’s not like me at all. That’s why I’m doing it.”

“That makes no sense at all,” he pointed out, taking a sip of coffee, then setting his cup down on the credenza beside hers.

“It makes perfect sense.” She threw her hands high, let them drop again and did a quick about-face. Marching away from him for five or six steps, she felt fury rumbling through her, and for the first time in her life, she welcomed it. Stopping dead, she whirled around to face him and pointed her index finger at him accusingly. “You totally expect me to drop everything and do whatever you want me to do. And how can I even blame you for it? My whole life I’ve done exactly what I was supposed to.”

“Admirable.”

“Or weak,” she countered, stalking right back to him. “My parents, my brothers, Peter, you. You’ve all steamrolled over me because I kept lying down on the street and assuming the position. Allowing you all to get away with bossing me around. Well, no more. I’m done.”

“Caitlyn, you work for me.” His voice was deliberately cold. Tolerant. She knew the tone. She’d heard him use it on those who were trying his very limited amount of patience. But Caitlyn wasn’t going to back down.

“I tell you when you take a vacation and when your presence is required,” he said tightly. “I require you with me in Portugal.”

“But you really don’t, Jefferson,” she said, and wondered why she was bothering to repeat herself. He hadn’t heard her the first time; he wouldn’t hear her this time, either. He never heard anything he didn’t want to hear. “The hotel can provide an assistant. Or you could take Georgia with you.”

“Georgia?” His annoyance shuddered in the air around her.

Okay, fine. That was a cheap shot, she thought. No way could Georgia do the job to Jefferson’s expectations. But the point is, he didn’t need anyone with him.

“The work’s done, Jefferson,” she said, trying for calm, despite the way her stomach was jittering. “You’ve made the offer, the papers have been drawn up and looked over by Legal. All you have to do is sign the papers, take a tour of the ship and slap the Lyon logo on her hull. Why do you need me there?”

“Because,” he said, his voice low and tight, “I pay you to be where I need you, when I need you. This is your job, Caitlyn.”

Her head was buzzing. Her blood pumped hard and fast and her stomach did a couple of weird spins. Her job. And she was the first to admit it was a good one. She made a healthy salary, owned her own home—true, a condo, but still a home—and she did darn good work.

But apparently, somewhere along the way, she’d become a piece of office equipment. Steady, dependable, necessary, but as far as Jefferson was concerned, she had no more feelings than the copier that continually demanded more toner.

She hadn’t expected he would take the news of her upcoming vacation lightly. But she also hadn’t expected him to be such a jerk about it. Other people took vacations. Had lives. Why shouldn’t she?

Jefferson Lyon was a man who expected everything around him to fall into line. He walked through life issuing orders with the expectation that they would be followed. Quickly. And as much as that strength and confidence appealed to her, she was just now understanding how hard it was to live with.

Peter had been the same way, just on a smaller scale. Strong, silent, clearly in charge—and she’d gone along with him just as easily as she had with Jefferson. What in the hell did that say about her? Was she really so willing to lose herself in a strong man?

“You know,” she mused aloud, her voice hardly more than a hush as she talked more to herself than to him, “I should have seen this coming a long time ago. But I didn’t want to.”

“Seen what?”

She glanced at him and noted the confusion in his eyes and the familiar stamp of irritation on his features. What was it about this man? He appealed to her on too many levels. She knew that already. And so, apparently, had Peter. But now that she thought about it, Caitlyn was forced to admit that she’d actually been drawn to Peter in the first place because he’d sort of reminded her of…Jefferson.

Oh, good god.

“Are you in a fugue state of some kind?” he prompted.

“Actually,” she said as her emotional blinders came off and she was nearly blinded by the light, “I think I’m just coming out of one.”

“Good. Then, maybe we can get some work done.”

“It’s the alpha-male thing,” she mused, tipping her head to one side and staring at him as if he were a smear on a glass slide under a microscope. How was it she’d never come to this realization before? How had she allowed herself to just drift in Jefferson’s wake? “It has been all along. Peter. You. Even my brothers.”

“What’re you talking about now?”

“Revelations,” she said quietly, almost amused now, as everything became clear.

“You do realize you’re not making sense, right?”

“Oh, this makes perfect sense, you’re just not getting it. Big surprise. And let me tell you,” she said nodding for emphasis, “it took me long enough, but I’ve learned my lesson. I’m through with you alpha types. Give me a nice, easy-to-get-along-with beta guy. No more strong, silent, take-charge types for me. I want someone nice. Sweet. Sensitive.”

His lips twisted. “Sounds more like a golden retriever.”

“You would think that, of course.”

“Look,” Jefferson said, dipping his hands into his pants pockets, “somehow, we’ve gotten way off the subject. And believe it or not, I’m not really interested in your personal life. You can date whoever you want to as soon as we get back from Portugal.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

“Now that we have that settled,” he said, dismissing her as completely as if he were swatting away an annoying gnat, “there are a few more things I need you to do before I leave for the airport. Call the pilot, tell him to be ready in an hour. Then, when you’ve done that, contact the Florida office. Tell them I’ll be there Friday. And cancel my appointments for the next two days. I don’t know how long I’ll be in Seattle and—”

She watched him as he turned for his office, plowing right ahead with the world according to Jefferson. He’d moved on and assumed she had, too. Absolutely nothing she’d said had penetrated his thick head. Her back teeth ground together, and before she could bite back the word and swallow it, she said simply, “No.”

He stopped dead, turned to look at her and lifted one eyebrow. “No?”

Caitlyn took another deep breath because if she didn’t she might start hyperventilating. Everything in her was demanding she sit down and wait calmly for this firestorm of emotion to fade away. So to make sure she didn’t listen to that annoying, logical instinct, she moved fast. Shaking her head, she opened the bottom drawer of her desk and grabbed her purse. Slinging it over her shoulder, she snatched up her suit jacket and tossed it across her arm. “That’s right. I said no.”

“Caitlyn, I’ve taken all I’m going to take for one morning.”

“And I’ve given all I’m going to give,” she snapped. Temper spiked inside her, pushing aside all those annoying rational thoughts—and maybe that was for the best. Because, if she calmed down, took a moment to actually think about what she was doing, she’d never do it. “I’m done.”

He laughed.

He actually laughed.

Then he asked, “What are you talking about?”

“I quit.”

He couldn’t have looked more surprised if she had announced that she was about to give birth to a Martian.

“You can’t quit.”

“I just did.” She blinked, laid one hand on her racing heart and felt her insides slowly calm, as though someone had poured oil on a choppy sea. Strange. She waited for a jolt of panic, but it didn’t come. As much as she had always loved her job, at this moment, she knew she was doing the right thing in quitting. “Wow. I actually did it. I quit.”

“This is ridiculous.” He took a step toward her, and she backed up just for good measure. She wasn’t sure where she’d found the courage to tender her resignation, but she wasn’t going to risk him talking her out of it.

Where was all of this newfound sense of spirit and independence coming from? She had no idea. Maybe it had started with Peter ending their engagement. Or maybe it had been when her fiancé had suggested that she was really in love with her boss. And maybe it was that one startling revelation that had just come to her moments ago. Whatever the reason, though, Caitlyn knew in her bones that this was the right thing to do.

She needed a fresh start. With her life. With her career. And she’d never get it if she stayed close to Jefferson Lyon. The man was too powerful. Too magnetic. Too damn sexy.

Peter was wrong about her loving Jefferson. She firmly believed that. But she wasn’t foolish enough to deny the attraction she felt for the man. And how could she ever straighten out her own life when she was so near the man who could make her knees go to jelly?

“No, this makes perfect sense,” she told him, rounding the edge of her desk.

“All of this over a vacation?”

“No, Jefferson,” she said, feeling the swell of righteous indignation fill her. “It’s about working for a man who never sees me as anything more than a convenience.”

He frowned at her, his blue eyes going dark and narrow, and just for a minute, Caitlyn’s courage waned. Then the phone on her desk rang and she instinctively reached for it. “Lyon Shipping.”

“Caitlyn, love, it’s Max again. I’d forgotten something I wanted to tell your boss.”

Gritting her teeth, she said, “He’s not my boss anymore, Max, but here he is.”

“What? What?” Max’s voice came through loud and clear as she handed the receiver to Jefferson.

“Caitlyn,” Jefferson said, hanging up the phone without talking to his old friendly enemy. “I won’t allow you to simply quit.”

“You can’t stop me, Jefferson,” she said, and then left before she could stop herself from walking away from him.

A few hours later, Jefferson stormed around the perimeter of the huge room in his father’s Seattle house. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows in the old man’s study, the sky was gray and spitting rain on the city as if it held a personal grudge. Trees bent in the wind coming off the Sound, and the patter of rain slashing against the windows sounded harsh in the stillness.

“If you’ll sit down, we can sign these papers and finish this,” his father said, following Jefferson’s progress around the room. “I’ve got a golf game in an hour.”

“Golf?” Jefferson said, stopping to wave a hand at the weather. “In this?”

Harry Lyon shrugged in his oatmeal-colored sweater. “I’m meeting friends at the club. Your mother’s gone to New York for the week and—” He stopped talking, watched his son for a long moment, then said, “Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”

“Caitlyn quit this morning.”

“Your secretary?”

“Assistant.”

Harry waved a hand at the distinction. “Why would she quit? She’s very good at her job.”

“I know,” Jefferson said, shoving both hands into his pockets and turning to the window to glare at the rain.

He’d been thinking about nothing else for the last few hours. On the short flight to Seattle he’d gone over and over their argument and he still didn’t understand why she’d suddenly quit. It just wasn’t like her.

But then, he’d seen a whole new side to Caitlyn that morning. She’d never lost her temper with him. She’d always been the soul of professionalism. Seeing indignation and fury sparking in her eyes had caught him by surprise—something that wasn’t easy to do.

“What’re you going to do about it?” his father asked.

Jefferson turned his head to look at the older man. Since retiring, his father had never looked happier. Despite—or maybe because of—the heart attack he’d experienced a few months ago, Harry Lyon was determined to enjoy his life.

Which, it turns out, is why the old man had wanted Jefferson to fly up for the day. Harry was turning over the reins to the family company. Stepping out completely. Ordinarily Jefferson would have been pleased as hell about it. He’d worked hard for this moment for years. Now, though, his mind was too full of Caitlyn’s abrupt treachery to really take it all in.

“Well?” Harry prompted from his seat on an oversize leather armchair.

What was he going to do about it? There was only one answer. He was going to get her back. Jefferson Lyon didn’t lose. The word wasn’t even in his vocabulary. Nobody walked out on him. Not until he was damn good and ready. And he wasn’t nearly ready to lose Caitlyn. The woman was too integral to his work. She knew everything. Had her pulse on the entire company.

And who would he talk to in the morning?

She was just too important to let go.

“I’ll get her back,” Jefferson said, his mind already sifting through scenarios, searching for just the right way to tempt her back to work. A raise? Possibly. More vacation time? He frowned. Too much of a hot button with her at the moment. A promotion to executive level? Not bad. But it was going to take more than improving her working conditions to convince Caitlyn to come back. It was going to take… A slow, sure smile curved his mouth as he realized what he was going to do about Caitlyn.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Harry folded his hands at his middle. “What’s the plan?”

Jefferson turned his smile on his father, but he had no intention of filling the man in on this. He wouldn’t approve. Wouldn’t understand that the only sure way to get Caitlyn back was to seduce her into thinking it was her own idea.

If there was one thing Jefferson Lyon knew, it was women. He’d romance her, seduce her, ply her with jewelry, then act like a jerk and let her break up with him. She’d feel so bad she’d be bound to come back to work.

“Don’t worry about it, Dad,” he said, smiling now at the rain-washed window. “I’ve got it covered.”

Now that she was—gulp—unemployed, Caitlyn had absolutely no reason to stick around home. Instead, she called the resort and was lucky enough to snatch up a room freed by a sudden cancellation. Another sign from the universe that she was doing the right thing. And she appreciated it.

It had felt completely liberating to stand up to Jefferson and quit her job, but now that it was done, she was having a few doubts. She’d saved plenty of her salary, so she was fine for several months moneywise, but she’d never been unemployed. Not since she’d left college. A weird sensation passed through her to know that she didn’t have to be somewhere at an appointed time. Even weirder to realize she had zero obligations to worry about.

When her stomach hitched nervously as she climbed out of the cab and stood outside Fantasies, she reminded herself that she’d done the right thing. She only hoped that soon she’d believe it. Meanwhile, she’d closed up her condo and flown to the island almost a full two weeks ahead of her friends.

Janine and Debbie were completely supportive, of course, which is why they were such good friends. They’d applauded her resignation and promised to keep in touch until they were able to join her at Fantasies.

“Until then,” Caitlyn whispered, getting a good grip on the handle of her suitcase as a tropical breeze kissed her skin, “you’re here to relax. So get started already.”

A soft island breeze danced over her skin and carried the scents of both the sea and the banks of flowers surrounding the exclusive resort. She inhaled deeply, tasting freedom and settling the jitters in her stomach at the same time.

“May I take your bag for you?”

She jolted a little and turned around to find a tall, gorgeous man in the Fantasies uniform of deep red shirt over white slacks smiling at her. “Hi.”

“Hello, and welcome to Fantasies,” he said, brown eyes twinkling. “Let me just take your bag inside for you.”

“Thanks.” She handed her suitcase off to him and followed him into the lobby, turning her head from side to side, admiring the lush flower beds on either side of the wide coral walkway. Their combined scents flavored the air with spice and the splash of a small waterfall from somewhere nearby soothed away the last of Caitlyn’s nerves.

When she stepped into the wide-open lobby, she came to an abrupt stop and simply stared.

Amazing was the only word for it.

The floor was cool blue tile, giving you the feeling you were walking on water. White wicker chairs with plush red cushions were staggered around the immense, open lobby in clusters of conversation zones. There were several squat glass tables boasting clear crystal vases with brilliantly colored flowers spearing out of them.

The long, serpentine registration desk wound through the lobby in lazy curves of shining glass, behind which were tropical fish swimming through sparkling aqua water. Caitlyn smiled as she caught flashes of gold, red and deep green fish darting through the sea grasses and anemones waving in the swirling water.

Computers and telephones rested on the glass top of the desk and the people manning their stations looked as beautiful and perfect as the rest of this resort. Each of them wore red shirts, white slacks and brilliant smiles that would have made any orthodontist proud.

While she waited to register, Caitlyn accepted a crystal flute of champagne from a passing waiter and felt the last of her doubts slip away on a contented sigh. There would be time enough to worry about leaving Lyon Shipping. More than time enough to worry about finding a new job.

For right now, she was going to surrender to the lush, indulgent vibe pulsing through this place.

* * *

Two days later, though, Caitlyn was already getting a little antsy. She was doing her best to combat the feeling. Stretched out on a red-and-white-flowered chaise, with a tall tropical drink at her side, she set her paperback down on her stomach and looked out at the water.

Miles and miles of clear, beautiful ocean stretched out in front of her and eased into shore, lapping up across powdery white sand. A cool breeze took the edge off the heat and the simple beauty of the place should have been enough to make her relax. Instead, her rotten brain kept turning back to Jefferson. The look on his face when she’d quit. The fact that now that she didn’t work for him anymore, she’d probably never see him again.

But that was as it should be, right? There was nothing between them but a job she didn’t have anymore. So it was better that he was out of her life.

If that were true, though, why wasn’t she happier?

“I’m worried,” she said into her cell phone, picking up her drink for a sip of strawberry-flavored alcohol.

“About what?” Janine demanded. “You’re at the most talked-about resort on the planet. You’re being waited on hand and foot. You’re footloose and fancy-free. You’re young and single and there must be at least a dozen men in arm’s reach of you.”

“True,” Caitlyn admitted, letting her gaze slide across the sand and the golden-tanned bodies either laying in the sun or playing volleyball.

“So what could you possibly be worried about?”

“Jefferson,” she admitted on a disgusted groan. She couldn’t help it. She’d left him in the lurch, and that just didn’t feel right. She’d walked out of his office and his life without any more than a moment’s thought. Of course she shouldn’t have quit without even giving him proper notice. For heaven’s sake, she had more pride in her work than that. “I just walked out, Janine. Left him high and dry with nobody to run things.”

“Just what he deserved,” her friend said, then added to someone else, “Don’t put baby’s breath in with hydrangeas. For God’s sake, were you born in a barn?”

Caitlyn smiled. The high-priced florist shop where Janine was the head designer was always busy, and Janine was always on top of everything.

“Honestly, Cait,” she said on a sigh, “Lyon Shipping isn’t your problem anymore. You’ve got to learn to let go a little. How are you supposed to have a vacation if your brain’s still back here in Long Beach?”

“You’re right, I know you’re right,” she said, taking another sip of her drink and letting the icy concoction chill the quick flash of heat she felt just at the thought of Jefferson Lyon. “But, Janine—”

“No buts,” she interrupted. “Michael, if you break another vase, I swear, I’m going to—” The sound of breaking glass came through the phone loud and clear. “Just kill me now,” Janine muttered.

Caitlyn laughed.

A minute later, though, Janine said, “Cait, get out there and meet people. Men people. Get drunk. Get laid. Get Jefferson Lyon out of your system.”

A volleyball landed right next to her, spraying her with sand before bouncing to hit her stomach. “Hey!”

“What is it?” Janine asked.

“Attacked by a volleyball,” Caitlyn muttered as the ball’s owner jogged up to her, a big grin on his amazingly gorgeous face.

“Sorry about that,” the guy said. “I’m Chad. Can I buy you a drink to apologize?”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“Don’t you dare turn him down,” Janine ordered from a couple thousand miles away. “This is why you’re there, girlfriend. To relax. To live a little.”

“Umm…” Caitlyn said, listening to Janine and watching the gorgeous beach guy.

“Is he cute?”

“Uh-huh.” Like-a-movie-star cute.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “Fine.”

“Caitlyn Amanda Monroe,” Janine threatened, “don’t be an idiot. This is why you’re there. Remember?”

She remembered. She was supposed to be relaxing. Meeting new people. Men people. And there was no time like the present to get started, she supposed.

Nodding to herself, she smiled, swallowed her nervousness and said, “Hi, Chad. I’m Caitlyn. And I’d love a drink.”

Five

Caitlyn had about a half hour to shower and dress before meeting Chad for drinks in the main bar. She hurried down the long, tiled hallway to her own door, digging in her pocket for the key card as she ran. She shouldn’t have agreed to meet the guy for a drink. And if Janine hadn’t been on the phone with her at the time, she wouldn’t have.

She just wasn’t feeling very sociable at the moment. Not that she wasn’t interested in meeting new people—men people—it was just that she was too busy thinking about Jefferson to appreciate someone else. Even someone as gorgeous as Chad.

“Which is just sick and twisted and wrong,” she muttered, dropping her tote bag on the end of the bed. “Why you should be thinking about your former boss at all is a mystery. He’s gone. Out of your life. Kaput. Adios, amigo. Sayonara. Ciao. Arrivederci.”

“That’s two in Italian.”

“Yikes!” Caitlyn clutched at her throat, spun around on her heel, lost her balance and tumbled back across the bed. Eyes wide, heart racing, she stared at Jefferson as he walked casually out of her bathroom. A thick fog of misting steam rolled out the open door behind him, surrounding him in a haze that made him look almost otherworldly. Of course, the towel hooked around the waist of his naked body wasn’t helping the situation any.

His hair was wet and drops of water were still rolling across his tanned, much-more-muscled-than-she’d-dreamed chest. And his piercing blue eyes were locked on hers. His full, delicious-looking mouth quirked in a half smile as she pushed herself up to a sitting position.

“Surprise.”

“Surprise? What do you mean, surprise? What are you doing here?” She held up a hand as her heartbeat slowed from frantic down to way too fast. “Scratch that. Never mind what you’re doing here. What are you doing here? In my room here, I mean. How did you get in? Why would you—How could you—” She broke off, gulped some air and then settled for glaring at him.

Jefferson shrugged, and Caitlyn couldn’t help but watch the play of muscles that shifted with that minor action. But she steadfastly kept her gaze above that towel. Oh, boy, she could be in some serious trouble here. No, she wasn’t in love with her boss, but she was clearly quite deeply in lust with him.

And seeing him in that towel and a few drops of water was enough to make any woman start drooling.

“I came to bring you back home,” he said. “Back to Long Beach. Back to the company.”

Of course that’s why he was here. God, she was such an idiot. Taking a shower in her room only meant that he had needed a shower and helped himself. It didn’t mean that he was here for her. Naturally, the only thing on Jefferson’s mind was the usual. Himself.

“I quit, remember?”

He laughed, and the sound echoed off the walls of her large, elegant room. “You can’t quit, Caitlyn. Work is your life. How do you quit your life?”

“That was then. This is now. I’m making a new life, thanks.”

“One without me. Without Lyon Shipping.”

“That’s the plan.” The fact that she’d actually missed him in the last two days didn’t speak of great success for that plan, but that was neither here nor there.

“Hmm…I wonder.”

“Come on, Jefferson,” she said, wanting to get him off the subject of her entirely. “You didn’t come all the way here just to convince me to come back to a job I quit. Why are you really here?”

“After you left,” he said, walking across the room toward her, his footsteps silent on the thick, pale blue carpet, “I realized something.”

She scooted back on the bed, keeping her distance, but then thought about being on the bed with him so close and so conveniently naked. Which made her shoot off the mattress as though there was a spring under her behind. “What? You realized what?”

“I needed a vacation.”

“Right,” she said, shaking her head at the ridiculous story. “You’ve never taken a vacation, Jefferson. The closest you came to it was when you were flying around the globe ruining my vacations. Besides, shouldn’t you be back at the office, annoying some minion into finalizing your Portugal trip?”

“You’re exactly right. I have never taken a vacation, so I was more than due. As to ruining your vacations in the past, I’m not here to do that again. I’m only here to join in the fun.”

“Fun?”

“As to the Portugal trip,” he said, swiping one hand through his wet hair, “my rather exceptional admin has everything taken care of already.”

Exceptional.

He’d called her exceptional. Oh, he was up to something.

She only wished she knew what.

“And,” he admitted with another shrug—and he really did have some amazing pecs—“I missed you.”

Caitlyn snorted. Very inelegant, she knew, but she just couldn’t help herself. Oh, yes. Definitely up to something. “You missed me. Sure you did. You mean, you missed having me run interference between you and the company. It’s only been a couple of days, Jefferson.”

A couple of days during which she had missed him. But that wasn’t the point now, was it?

“This isn’t about work, Caitlyn,” he said, his gaze fixed on her so steadily she was pretty sure she could feel heat sizzling in the air between them. “This is about us.”

She just stared at him for a long minute. This was getting weirder and weirder. First, he’s naked in her hotel room. Next he’s missing her. Now he’s talking about an us?

“Okay, I must have somehow slipped into an alternate dimension,” she muttered, shaking her head and fiddling with the cloth belt of her cover-up. No way was she slipping it off to stand in front of him in her bathing suit. The more clothes she had on at the moment, the safer she’d be.

And where was all this sudden, desperate lust coming from? She’d worked for the man for three long years. Sure, she’d been attracted, but she’d never felt the kind of swamping, all-encompassing heat that was boiling in her system at the moment. Was it the fact that they were both away from the business setting?

Or maybe it was just that towel he was wearing.

Her eyes popped a little. Was that towel slipping?

“Alternate dimension,” she repeated numbly. She blinked, tore her gaze from the towel. “That has to be it. The only rational explanation. Well, that or I’m having a stroke. No, not a stroke. Must be the alternate-plane thing. The elevator. I probably got caught in one of those ripples in time. Maybe if I go back down, I’ll get back to my own universe and none of this will be happening.”

“Ripple in time?”

Her gaze snapped to his. “Makes more sense than believing any of this is happening.”

“But it is happening,” he said in a voice that had dropped low enough that the vibrations of it were sizzling along every one of her nerve endings.

“No, it’s not,” she said firmly. No way was she going to get sucked into whatever game he was playing. She wasn’t going to go back to work for him. She was sticking to her guns—and not going to look at that towel.

“Jefferson,” she said, inching farther from him. “Let’s forget for the moment why you came here. How did you get into my room?”

He smiled and she felt her knees wobble. Not a good sign.

“I followed you here.”

“Yeah. I got that.” Frowning, she asked, “How’d you know where I was going?”

“It’s not that difficult for a man in my position to get whatever answers he needs, Caitlyn.”

Probably not, she mused. The man had contacts all over the world and enough money to pay for whatever information he needed. But why go to all this trouble? And even if finding her was no big deal, how the hell did he get into her hotel room?

“Fine. You found me. But who let you into my room?”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and the towel pulled away from one of his thighs, exposing a good bit of tanned, very muscular flesh with just a sprinkling of blond hair. Oh, god.

“When I explained to the front desk that my wife had arrived a few days ahead of me, they were very happy to give me a key.”

“Your wife?” Okay, that was enough to pull her out of the fantasies her brain was currently indulging in. “You told them I was your wife? And they believed you?”

“Of course.”

Of course.

He said it as a matter of fact. And why wouldn’t he? The name Jefferson Lyon carried enough weight that they probably would have let him into her room even if he hadn’t claimed to be her husband. Money, as she’d learned long ago, didn’t just talk, it shouted.

“Caitlyn,” he was saying, and she forced her overworked mind to focus. “There were no other rooms available. The hotel was completely booked up. So what else was I supposed to do?”

“Go home?” she offered, throwing both hands high in exasperation.

“Not without seeing you.” He casually leaned back and propped himself up on his elbows. The towel slipped again and Caitlyn sucked in air. Now most of his thick thigh was exposed, with the soft blue towel just covering up the essentials.

Closing her eyes, Caitlyn rubbed at the spot between her eyes and told herself to count to ten. When she’d finished, she counted to twenty. Didn’t help. She was still furious and a little shocked and a lot needy.

So not a good combo.

Jefferson watched her and wished he could read her mind. The emotions flitting across her features were fleeting and so diverse he knew that her thoughts had to be wildly entertaining.

While she began to pace, talking to herself, Jefferson followed her with his gaze. Sunlight speared through the open French doors leading to the small private balcony. A soft wind made the sheer curtains dance and wave with languid abandon and the wash of golden light in the room played on Caitlyn’s long, lean legs, tanned to the color of warm honey. Something stirred within him and he scowled briefly as he recalled the desk clerk describing Caitlyn as “the one with the amazing legs.”

Jefferson had to admit the guy had been right. And why had he never noticed Caitlyn’s legs before? Shaking his head now, he pushed that stray thought out of his mind and concentrated instead on the situation. He was here with her and his plan was just getting started.

He could have gone downstairs to find her, but meeting her this way had been so much more…intriguing. He hadn’t had any trouble talking his way into Caitlyn’s room—and if he owned this particular resort, he’d have fired the clerk who’d bowed to Jefferson’s name and money long enough to hand over the key to a guest’s room. But since that employee wasn’t his trouble, he could only appreciate the fact that the Lyon name carried the weight he had needed.

Of course, the fact that Jefferson had bought up the remaining rooms in the hotel so he wouldn’t be able to leave Caitlyn’s room had probably convinced the desk jockey to be more lenient than usual.

“You can’t stay here,” she said finally.

“No choice. There aren’t any available rooms.”

“Go buy a house.”

“Private island,” he reminded her.

Hands at her hips, she lifted her chin and glared at him. “Not my problem.”

“Now, is that any way for a wife to talk to her husband?”

“I can’t believe you did that. In fact, I’m surprised you managed to choke out the word wife.”

Jefferson pushed off the bed, felt the towel at his hips slip a little and reached to straighten it. And he caught the flash of interest in Caitlyn’s eyes. Smiling, he said, “But I did. And now that I have, you’re stuck with me.”

“Don’t count on it,” she promised, and walked to the phone on the nightstand beside the bed. “I’ll call the front desk. Tell them you lied.”

He folded his arms over his chest. “I’ll tell them this is a lover’s quarrel.”

“They won’t believe you.”

“I can be very convincing.”

She frowned up at him and he wanted to grin at the frustration pouring off her in waves. He could almost see her thinking her way through this mess and looking for a way out. When she didn’t find one, she said, “Fine. Fine, they’d side with you anyway and probably end up kicking me out and giving you my room.”

“Oh,” Jefferson said, enjoying himself, “that wouldn’t happen. I’d never let my ‘wife’ be treated like that.”

She blew out a breath that ruffled the fringe of bangs on her forehead. “You’re such a jerk.”

“Pet names,” he said, smiling. “Isn’t that nice?”

“I don’t know what you’re up to, Jefferson,” she said. “But it won’t work, whatever it is.”

“What’s the matter? Afraid to be alone with me?”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” One eyebrow rose. “Then, there’s no problem, is there?”

“Fine. You can stay here until they find a room for you.”

Which wouldn’t happen anytime soon, Jefferson knew all too well.

“But you sleep on the floor.”

“So you are scared of me. Or of yourself with me.”

“Your ego is astounding.”

“Thank you.”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she muttered.

“Now, Caitlyn,” he said, striding toward the closet where the few clothes he’d grabbed before this hurried trip were already hung alongside hers. “We don’t want to start our vacation with an argument, do we?”

“What’re you doing?”

He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Getting dressed.”

“Here?”

“Where else?” He dropped both hands to the towel and unhooked it. Before he could let it fall, she was sprinting for the bathroom.

“Just…get dressed and go away. I have to get ready for a date.”

“A date?”

She paused in the bathroom doorway and tossed him a satisfied smile. “Yes, a date. Just enjoying ‘our’ vacation, Jefferson.”

She closed the door and he dropped the towel in disgust. She’d been there two days and already had a date? Didn’t bode well for his seduction plans. But then he reassured himself that by getting her to let him stay in her room, he’d already won the first round. She just didn’t know it.

Besides, he thought as he grabbed his clothes and got dressed, just because she had a date didn’t mean that she was going to stay on it for long.

Caitlyn smiled at Chad as he regaled her with yet another tale of his prowess at day-trading. She was almost asleep with her eyes open when he asked, “Can you believe it? I traded that stock with an eighth of a percent profit. Tightest deal I’d ever swung.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the memory of his triumph. “Nothing more vicious than the market.”

“Sounds fascinating.” She picked up her drink and wished it were full. Would it be rude to signal the waiter for a refill? She didn’t think she could take much more of this without slipping into a coma.

Her mother’s words of warning about handsome men came rushing back to her. Sometimes, honey, God gives and God takes away. Lots of times, handsome faces cover up empty heads.

God, she hated when her mother was right.

“Hello.”

Caitlyn jumped in her chair, whipped a quick look over her shoulder and couldn’t believe how happy she was to see Jefferson standing right behind her. Of course, she couldn’t let him know that. She wanted him to believe she was having a good time. Without him.

“Hello,” Chad said, shooting a confused look from her to Jefferson and back again.

Jefferson leaned down, planted a quick kiss on Caitlyn’s cheek. And before her skin had stopped buzzing with heat, he was smiling at Chad and extending his hand. “Caitlyn, darling,” he said affably, “you didn’t tell me someone else would be joining us for drinks. I’m sorry I got hung up on the phone. But you know how those business calls can run on.”

“Umm…” She watched him take a seat beside her, signal the waiter with a quick wave of his hand and then drop his arm around her shoulders. Caitlyn tried to shift out from under his grasp, but he only tightened his hold on her.

The man sitting across from them looked more confused than ever, and Caitlyn couldn’t blame him.

“So, sweetie,” Jefferson said, “who’s your friend?”

“The name’s Chad.”

“Really? Chad?”

“Jefferson…” Caitlyn muttered.

“Look,” Chad said tightly as the waiter appeared, took Jefferson’s order and quietly disappeared again, “I don’t know what’s going on here, but Caitlyn and I had a date for drinks and—”

“A date?” Jefferson laughed, and his amusement seemed to hit Chad the wrong way. Again, Caitlyn couldn’t really blame him. She wasn’t amused, either. Though, damned if she wasn’t relieved that Jefferson had shown up.

What was the old saying? Better the devil you know?

“What’s so funny?” Chad demanded, getting a little red in the face.

“Nothing.” Jefferson’s smile faded and his eyes narrowed to dangerous blue slits. “I always find the fact that a man thinks he has a date with my wife entertaining.”

“Your wife?” Chad stood up and shot Caitlyn a quelling look.

“Jefferson—Chad—”

“You’re not wearing a ring.” The darkly attractive, extremely boring man looked at Jefferson. “She didn’t say anything about a husband, man.”

“Well, we did have an argument earlier. She’s probably still upset with me. Isn’t that right, darling?” He pulled her in for a quick kiss, and while her lips burned with a fire that seemed to keep right on sizzling, Caitlyn’s voice dried up.

“I didn’t mean to come on to her—”

“I understand.” Benevolent now, Jefferson nodded and flicked his fingers at the man looking for a quick escape. “My wife is a beautiful woman. Hardly surprising you’d try to make a move. Now, though, if you’ll excuse us…”

Chad disappeared so fast Caitlyn half expected to see sparks shooting up from the heels of his shoes. Then she was alone with Jefferson. “Why are you doing this?”

He gave her shoulders another squeeze and smiled down at her. “Rescuing you from boredom, you mean? Well, because I’m a great humanitarian.”

“How do you know I was bored?” she countered. “Chad was fascinating. Seriously. I was hanging on his every word.”

“Your eyes were glazed over and your body language indicated imminent unconsciousness.”

Caitlyn sighed, slipped out from under Jefferson’s arm and picked up her drink. Draining it, she held the empty glass up to him, and once again he signaled for the waiter. What was the point in pretending? She was too grateful that Jefferson had arrived like the cavalry. If he hadn’t, she might have been stuck for hours listening to tales of pork bellies and futures trading. “Fine. I admit it. I’ve never been so bored in my life.”

“What did you expect?” he asked, grinning. “The man’s name is Chad. Is that even a name? Isn’t it really just a hanging piece of paper?”

Caitlyn chuckled. “Stop it. He seemed nice enough on the beach.”

“Aah, well. You met on the beach. Of course you’d expect him to be fascinating. Probably heatstroke.”

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