Bargaining with the Boss (Accidentally Yours)

by Shirk, Jennifer

  Elena tried to catch her breath. “What a workout that was.”

  Kinsley chuckled, rolling and stretching out her shoulder. “We both deserve raises. I’ll bring it up to him.” Then she looked down at poor Damon still in his work clothes. “Maybe we should take his shirt off.”

  “Now we’re talking.” Elena eagerly rubbed her hands together. “Allow me the honors.”

  “May I remind you you’re engaged?”

  “Spoilsport.”

  Kinsley rolled her eyes then gingerly reached down and began unbuttoning his shirt. Even under the circumstances of his illness and with Elena standing there watching, it had an intimate feeling to it. When she reached the last button, she spread his shirt open, hoping to cool him down and make him more comfortable. Instead, she felt as if she were posing him for a layout in Playgirl magazine. His rock-hard abs glistened with sweat. Her cheeks caught fire.

  “Mama,” Elena breathed, her gaze raking over his chest. “I had no idea all that was underneath his shirt.” She stuck out her hand as if to touch him, but Kinsley smacked it away.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Kinsley said, banking down her own irrational possessiveness. “That man is our boss. And have you ever heard the expression look but don’t touch?” Not that she blamed Elena one bit. Kinsley’d had the pleasure of waking up in those arms and on that chest just last weekend, and she still would have liked to have had one more touch, too. Totally inappropriate thoughts for a sensible woman like her.

  Elena rubbed her wrist. “Right. Sorry. I was blinded by abs.”

  “Well, I think you can go now,” Kinsley said, feeling Damon’s forehead. “I’ll stay here, brew him some tea, and make sure he’s okay. I don’t think he should be by himself tonight.”

  Elena raised her brow. “Are you sure?”

  Kinsley nodded. “It’ll be fine. I’ll call Wade and see if he can bring ginger ale and crackers for him. I think there’s some aspirin or Tylenol in my purse.”

  “Well, okay.” Elena glanced down at her watch. “Scott is probably wondering what happened to me.” She looked back at Damon, who was now curled up on his side, asleep again. “Poor guy. It is tough to be sick and alone. There’s a first aid kit in my office if you need anything in the meantime. Text me if you run into a problem.” Elena gave Kinsley a brief hug. “You’re so dependable.” Then she left, closing the door behind her.

  Dependable. Gee, that’s so hot. It was like saying she was one step away from being a diaper.

  Kinsley glanced down at Damon and her heart went out to him. Elena was right. There was nothing worse than being sick and alone. According to Damon, he and Kinsley were now friends. Of sorts. And he had shown another side to himself today, allowing the painters to continue their work to improve the ballroom, encouraging her. So she’d stay and do what she could to help him in return. She owed him that much.

  She pulled some covers over him then sat on the edge of the bed and studied his sleeping form. Lines marred his forehead and a scowl formed on his lips. He didn’t look very peaceful in his sleep. In fact, he seemed downright miserable. He shifted around a bit, his eyes still closed, and murmured, “I’m sorry.”

  She half smiled. He didn’t have to apologize to her. Kinsley reached out and smoothed the hair off his forehead. “It’s okay, Damon.” After all, she really didn’t mind staying. It wasn’t like she had anyone waiting for her at her condo. Or that she had a life.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled again. “So sorry, Dad.”

  Dad?

  “I didn’t mean for Carson to die.”

  Kinsley’s hand stilled. Oh my goodness. Damon wasn’t apologizing to her. He was dreaming…about somebody dying. Someone named Carson. Then she remembered what Wade had told her about Damon.

  He may seem tough, but he’s had some family issues to go through, too. Like we’ve all had.

  Damon’s semi-detached behavior started to make sense. Probably a coping mechanism for whatever past trauma he’d endured. Loss was never easy. She’d already gone through it twice now with her parents. She suddenly felt a strange new connection with Damon, and was compelled more than ever to stay with him tonight and make sure he was okay—mentally and physically.

  She stood, took out her cell phone from her pocket, and then dialed the number she knew by heart. “Wade,” she said as soon as he answered. “I need your help.”

  Kinsley laid another lukewarm washcloth on Damon’s forehead then stepped back. “His color looks so much better,” she said to her brother.

  Wade folded his arms. “Of all the people you could contact, why did you call me down here again?”

  “Damon needed ginger ale and more Tylenol. I couldn’t leave him like this. Plus, I thought he should be examined by a doctor.”

  “I’m a veterinarian.”

  “Is there really that much difference?”

  “In that case, I should tell you that both his coat and teeth look good, but you should bring him in next week because he’s due for his rabies shot.”

  “I’m serious.” She planted a hand on her hip.

  “Kinsley, he’ll be fine. His fever has broken and you just said yourself that his color looks better. Keep giving him Tylenol every four to six hours and make sure he stays hydrated. That’s the best thing you can do for him. I’m sure he’ll bounce back by morning.”

  Kinsley rung her hands. “Okay. I guess you’re right.” She tucked the covers around Damon’s shoulders then walked Wade to the door.

  Her brother narrowed his eyes. “Since when did you get all Florence Nightingale-y? And I thought you considered Damon the enemy.”

  “Yeah, well, that was before.”

  “Before what exactly?”

  Before she started seeing him in a new light.

  “It’s not what you think,” she said, noticing the concerned look on Wade’s expression. “But I’m curious, what happened to Damon when you two were in college?”

  Wade’s brows came together. “What do you mean?”

  “Weren’t you two roommates or something for a semester? Then he ended up transferring, right?”

  “Oh, that.” Wade suddenly got a distant look on his face. He shook his head. “It was around that time when his younger brother passed away.”

  She raised a hand to her mouth. “How awful.”

  “Yeah. I don’t really know any of the details, though. The college had his stuff packed up and he was gone before I ever had a chance to speak to him. Sad thing to have happened so young.”

  Even without knowing the whole story, Kinsley knew the situation was still sad. Unbelievably so. Her heart broke for Damon and his family.

  “After that, I never saw Damon again until just recently. His parents pulled him from college and he ended up finishing his degree somewhere else.”

  Kinsley blew out a breath. “Wow. That explains the dreams.”

  “Dreams?”

  “Before you came over, Damon was dreaming. Murmuring something about being sorry. It sounded like he was apologizing to his dad for his brother’s death.”

  Wade shrugged. “Like I said, I don’t know anything about that. You’re going to have to ask Damon if you want the whole story.”

  Kinsley frowned. “Yeah, maybe.” She’d ask, but she wasn’t so sure Damon would tell her anything. He was guarded with anything personal and she imagined he trusted very few. Yet, for some reason, she wanted to be one of those few people.

  Wade took the stethoscope from around his neck and tucked it into his back pocket. “I’m going to head home. I’m exhausted. But text me if you need anything else. I’m sure you will anyway,” he said with a wink.

  She smiled. “Thanks.” And then, because she appreciated him and the story of Damon’s brother still affected her, she stepped forward, wrapped her arms around Wade, and hugged him hard.

  “Hey, easy now,” he said, chuckling, “you don’t know your own hug strength.”

  Tears filled her eyes as she stepped back. “
Sorry. I guess I should just say I love you, then.”

  “I love you, too, kiddo.” Wade turned to let himself out, but before he stepped into the hall, he hung back and looked at Kinsley with new concern. “Um, you do know what you’re doing, right?”

  “Yes. Tylenol every four to six hours. Got it.”

  He shook his head. “No. I mean…staying here.”

  It was late, and Kinsley didn’t have the energy to pretend to misunderstand what her brother meant. “Wade, please. I’m only taking care of Damon because he’s alone and I’m his employee. I mean, really,” she said with a light laugh, “does he look like the kind of man who would be interested in a woman like me?”

  Wade didn’t answer right away. His gaze slowly traveled to Damon’s sleeping form and then back to Kinsley before he stated, “As a matter of fact, he does.”

  Chapter Eight

  Damon woke up with a cat on his pillow and a woman in his bed.

  One out of the two wasn’t bad.

  He stretched. He had to admit he hadn’t felt this good in days. But then he turned toward his sleeping bedmate. Kinsley. He should have guessed. He remembered now, the phone call and reprimand from his father, how awful his head felt, and then how Kinsley and Elena had taken him to his room so he could lie down. Kinsley had placed cold compresses on his aching head and had even forced him to drink tea and water.

  Damon tucked his hands under his chin, content to just watch her sleep for a bit, mesmerized by how dark her lashes appeared against her ivory skin. The woman was too kind to him. He didn’t deserve to be taken care of like that. He was just her boss. And what had he ever done for her? Besides tell her that her family’s hotel was worthless and that she was wasting her time trying to save it. Yet her compassion toward him still won out. Kinsley was a strong and sensitive woman. He didn’t know what kind of man her ex-fiancé was, but he knew one thing for sure: the guy was totally unworthy of her.

  But then again, so was Damon.

  Kinsley’s eyes fluttered open, and when she caught him staring at her, they suddenly grew round and wide. “You—you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

  “Kinsley, when a man finds a beautiful woman in his bed, the answer to ‘how are you feeling?’ will always be ‘fantastic.’” He grinned.

  “Oh.” She sat straight up. Her cheeks turned rosy, and with her wavy brown hair smashed up on the one side of her head, she looked utterly charming to him. “Well, yes. I guess you are feeling better, then. You probably just needed a good night’s sleep.”

  “Yes, I’m feeling much better. Thank you for that.”

  “I didn’t do much. You must have had one of those twenty-four-hour things.”

  “You did a lot. I remember the cold compresses and you giving me some pain relievers. You stayed with me all night. I’d say you did a lot more than anyone has done for me in a long time.”

  Kinsley relaxed a little, propping two pillows behind her and leaning back. “It was nothing. You’re alone here in town. Anyone in my position would have done the same.”

  Damon highly doubted that—especially where he was from—but chose to let her believe what she wanted.

  “So I guess it wasn’t allergies, after all,” she said.

  “Considering there’s a cat on my head and I have yet to so much as sniffle, I’m going to have to agree.”

  Kinsley’s gaze sprang to his pillow. “Colette! You bad cat! How did you get in here?” She reached for the cat, stroked her head, and then gently placed her on the floor. “Sorry about that. She must have snuck in when Wade came over.”

  Damon propped his head up with his hand. “Wade was here, too? What did you do, throw a party when I was down for the count?”

  “Of course not. I called him because I thought you needed a doctor.”

  “But Wade’s a veterinarian.”

  She hesitated. “Um, I figured it was close enough.”

  “You’re fired.”

  She cracked a smile. “You got better, though, didn’t you?”

  “Total luck on both your parts.”

  She laughed. “Well, I for one am glad you survived.”

  Damon glanced away. It was nice to hear somebody was happy he was alive. He often wondered if his family—especially his father—felt like they got the short end of the stick when his brother, the favorite, had passed away instead of him. But he’d make it up to them. One day, his father would be proud to have him working with him in the company.

  Kinsley laid a hand on his side, jolting his attention back to her. “Off the clock?” she asked gently, making the time-out sign.

  He took a deep breath then nodded at her. He had a strange feeling he wasn’t going to like what came out of her mouth next.

  “I think I should tell you that you didn’t have the most restful sleep. You, uh, were obviously feverish and you dreamed a lot last night.”

  He paused. “Did I?” he asked cautiously.

  “Yeah.” She bit her lip, shifting closer toward him. “It sounded like you were dreaming about somebody dying. Your…your brother?”

  Carson. He’d dreamed of Carson. Damon stilled. Then he rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling, not really knowing how to respond. If he wanted to respond. He never talked about his brother with his family, let alone to any woman he’d ever met. For him, that subject was mere memories tightly sealed in a jar and placed high up on a shelf. Memories that were kept but never accessed. Like most of his feelings about anything.

  “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it,” she rushed to explain, “but since we’re friends now, I wanted to offer you my ear. You know, just in case you needed it.”

  Damon continued to stare at the ceiling, wrestling with his thoughts. It seemed a little too simple for Kinsley to suggest he talk about his brother’s accident. But, to her, maybe it was all easy and simple. She was obviously the kind of person who wore her heart on her sleeve for all the world to see.

  He did not.

  Expressing his feelings never turned out well in the St. James household. Especially when it came to the topic of his brother. Every thought he’d ever wanted to express about Carson and what happened that night had always been shot down by his parents, who had their own more reserved way of dealing with grief. So Damon had learned to keep his emotions to himself as well.

  He turned his gaze to Kinsley, who seemed to be looking at him through hopeful eyes. Then she gave him an encouraging smile and he felt something warm deep down inside him that he’d thought was frozen.

  Kinsley reached out and took hold of his hand. She laced her fingers with his, holding tightly. “Hey, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk,” she said gently. “I don’t mean to push. Sometimes it’s just nice to know something is available even if you never use it, you know?”

  Damon looked down at their two hands joined together and frowned. She was so damn sweet. His heart thundered in his chest. A crazy reaction all out of proportion to her simple touch. He couldn’t explain it, but his body roared with need. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and just hold her.

  And it scared the crap out of him.

  “This is my favorite room,” she said, her eyes roaming the space with fondness.

  He glanced around, too. The wallpaper wasn’t in the best shape but could survive a few more years, since the pattern and color were fairly neutral. The carpet needed to be replaced, but there were tasteful pictures hung all around. “It’s pretty nice.”

  “Pretty nice?” she said, clearly outraged. “It’s awesome. You get the most sunlight here, and this is the only room where you get a view of the beach, ocean, and boardwalk all at once.” She pointed to a small door in the far edge of the room. “And see that closet? Wade never thought to look there when we played hide-and-go-seek.”

  “When was that, last week?”

  She let out a tinkling laugh. “When we were kids, silly.”

  Damon grew a smile of his own. He couldn’t remember the last time
he was called silly—or even felt that way. But her laughing and calling him that had a therapeutic effect on his soul and his insides grew light.

  “My mom decorated this room herself,” she added, her tone turning melancholy. “We’ve never changed the color or anything about this place. She saved it for couples who were celebrating a special occasion. After she died, my dad had a hard time renting it out. In fact, it hadn’t gotten used in years. We all wanted to preserve her memory here, undisturbed for as long as we could.”

  “When did you finally decide it was time?”

  “The summer I graduated from high school. Wade, my dad, and I came up here to celebrate. We even ordered my mom’s favorite pizza,” she said, smiling sadly. “It felt like she was here somehow with us. That’s when we took a good look around and decided it would be better for her memory if we allowed the room to be enjoyed by others, like she would have wanted. As much as it hurt without her, life still needed to go on.”

  “How did your mom die?”

  “She was doing some food prep in the kitchen here in the hotel. She wanted to make it easier on the staff, I guess. She had a stroke, but since she was alone in the kitchen, it was too late by the time we got her to the hospital.”

  “Did you ever…” He swallowed hard. “Do you ever blame yourself for not finding her in time?”

  She shrugged. “I suppose we all have played the ‘what if’ game in our minds at some point, but no, we never really blamed ourselves. After all, none of us actually caused the stroke. It just…happened.”

  Damon didn’t say anything for a long moment. He just absorbed her story, seeing and trying to make sense of the differences between their families. Much of the blame in his brother’s death had fallen on Damon’s shoulders, so he had a hard time letting that go. It wasn’t easy when your own family wouldn’t allow you to forget.

  She squeezed his hand as if trying to give him comfort. He not only squeezed back but also felt the need to hang on and grip her hand like a lifeline. He wasn’t good at opening up, but it was as if he didn’t need to with her. Her presence and touch alone were like a balm to his soul.