The Boss, The Baby And The Bride

by Day Leclaire

  “Yes?”

  “Get your damn dog off my couch and get the hell out of my office.” He wanted her out of his life before he succumbed to overwhelming lust and gave her a personal demonstration of his own particular fetishes. How could he have thought he preferred a more earthy woman? This one was as earthy as they came.

  She slanted him a glance from her outrageously blue eyes—eyes brimming with sunny laughter. “Let’s compromise. I’ll get Scratch off your couch, but then you hear me out. Agreed?”

  He refused to relent in the face of such blatant feminine appeal. He’d walked that particular path a time or two and knew the inherent dangers. Folding his arms across his chest, he held his ground, fixing her with a gimlet stare.

  “That’s a yes, right?” she dared to tease.

  Turning to the dog, she crouched beside him, running a hand along his muzzle. The fire engine red dress clung lovingly to the length of her spine before molding to her pertly rounded bottom. Reed fought to ignore such an irresistible lure. What he wouldn’t give to feel those hands stroking him with as much sweet attention as she gave her dog. And what he wouldn’t give to do some stroking of his own.

  Hell, it would be heaven on earth to explore the ripe curves barely contained within that scrap of a dress. Reed closed his eyes, his control nearly shot. Maybe if he didn’t look, he wouldn’t want what he absolutely couldn’t possess.

  Maybe.

  She persevered, whispering quietly to the dog. Not that it did much good. Scratch simply whined a complaint before burrowing deeper into the leather. Just as Reed decided to haul the mutt off his couch and be done with it, the animal opened his eyes—eyes every bit as spectacular a blue as his owner’s, the left one ringed by a large black patch. Reed released a silent sigh. Great. His life had turned into a Disney flick.

  “About time you paid attention. Now, get down,” she ordered.

  Scratch barked sharply in response before lunging forward and flicking her cheek with his tongue. Then he turned his head away as though that ended the discussion.

  She persisted, catching his muzzle in her hands again and poking her elegant nose to within inches of the dog’s speckled snout. “That’s not good enough. Kisses don’t make up for bad behavior.”

  Reed considered arguing with that, but thought better of it. His goal these days was to avoid woman-trouble, not embrace it—no matter how delectable the armful.

  “You’ll jeopardize our mission if you don’t stop,” she continued.

  Mission? Reed’s eyes narrowed. “What mission?” he demanded.

  Tension radiated down the length of her spine at his question, but she kept her attention focused on the dog. “Get down, Scratch.”

  With a surprisingly human-like grumble, the dog slinked off the couch before sitting obediently beside her red spiked heels. Angie turned to Reed. “Happy now?” she had the nerve to ask.

  “Not even close.” He glanced toward the stack of papers awaiting him and frowned. “Can we get on with this? As you can see I have a ton of work to do.”

  “Which is precisely why I’m here. You see, I’m your new secretary.” With that pronouncement, she took the chair opposite his desk.

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Not at all.” She crossed her legs and his mouth went dry. “Now what did I do with the manual they gave me? Oh, I remember.”

  She opened the postage-stamp-size purse she’d strung over her shoulder and pulled out a small, rather battered book and an eyeglass case. How the items had fit, he couldn’t quite figure. But apparently, they had. She removed a dainty pair of gold-rimmed spectacles and perched them on the tip of her nose. Then she flipped through the leather-bound book, eventually finding what must have been the appropriate page.

  “First confirm identity,” she muttered beneath her breath. “Oh, right. You’d think I’d remember that one by now.” A tiny frown line appeared between her winged brows. “You are Reed Harding? I haven’t messed that part up, have I?”

  “I’m Reed. Look, lady, I don’t know what the hell—”

  “Second... Explain presence.” She nodded in satisfaction. “Check that one off. I’ve already explained I’m your secretary. Third... Assess situation.”

  “Excellent suggestion. Assess the fact that I’ve had all I’m gonna take. Feel free to return to whatever agency sent you and tell them it didn’t work out. I need an experienced secretary.”

  She swung her foot back and forth. The bright red shoe slipped off her heel and dangled from her toes, swaying rhythmically. Why such an innocent act should bother him, he couldn’t quite figure. But it proved downright hypnotic, not to mention sexy as hell.

  “How do you know I’m not experienced?” she asked.

  He forced his gaze from toe to ankle to knee. And then, in an amazing demonstration of sheer willpower, he skipped the brevity of red between thigh and shoulder and focused instead on her face. This woman was supposed to be his secretary? Not a chance. How did she expect him to work when all he could think about was showing her in every conceivable way why he’d been made a man and she a woman? He had to get rid of her—find a legitimate excuse for refusing her services. Something that wouldn’t land him in legal hot water.

  Reed took a seat behind his desk. “I’ll make this easy for you. How many construction or architectural design firms have you worked for?”

  “None.”

  “See how easy that was? Thanks, but no thanks. Be sure to close the door on your way out.”

  “I don’t think you really want me to leave. It says here you’ve gone through a dozen secretaries in the past six months.” She checked her book again and frowned. “Or is that six secretaries in the past twelve months?”

  “What can I say? I’m a demanding employer. I expect exceptional service. What’s wrong with that?”

  She shrugged, peering at him over the top of her wire rims. “Nothing. But since you demand exceptional service, you need an exceptional secretary to take care of your office.”

  “Exactly. I requested someone who could take dictation, not... Not...”

  The laughter from her eyes spilled into her voice. “Not what? I’m fully qualified, I assure you.”

  “I don’t doubt that. The question is... Qualified for what?”

  Her inner flame dimmed ever so slightly and she thrust her glasses from the bridge of her nose to the crown of her head. She focused on him, her gaze more intense without the softening effect of the lenses. “To run your office. I’m very good at managing people. And I’m quite helpful.”

  “Not in my office, you’re not.”

  “I’m afraid you don’t have any choice.”

  Laughter broke free. “Sure I do. You’re not qualified to work here. Which means, it only takes two words to send you on your way. ‘You’re fired.’ See how easy that was?”

  “You can’t fire me.”

  “I just did.”

  A loud knock bounced off the door. Without waiting for a response, the person on the other side swatted the heavy oak panel inward. Six foot six inches of sheer muscle strode into the room. He held in tow a thin youngster who bore an amazing resemblance to Reed. “Sorry to interrupt, boss,” the man said. He gave the boy a nudge which launched him into the center of the room.

  “Hey, Tiger. You don’t have to be so rough,” the youth complained.

  Reed swore beneath his breath. “Not again.”

  “Caught ’em on the Wellsby job site.” Tiger folded his arms across his chest, the thick muscles gleaming like finely polished mahogany. “Third day this week. We’re gonna start falling behind if I have to fetch the kid home every time he gets a notion to play carpenter.”

  Angie stood and smiled at the boy. “You must be Joel.” She offered a hand. “I’m Angie Makepeace, your brother’s new secretary.”

  “She is not my new secretary. And how the hell did you know my brother’s name?”

  Joel stared in fascination. “Well, whatever she is... Can
I have one?”

  “Dammit, Joel!”

  Tiger smothered a laugh and Angie glanced his way, grinning. “You’re Mr. Harding’s foreman?” she asked, offering her hand again.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’ve heard good things about you. You’re quite highly thought of among the people I know.”

  “Funny. I’ve never heard of you at all.” He slanted a humor-filled look toward his boss. “Wonder why.”

  Reed’s mouth tightened. “Thanks for handling the situation, Tiger. I’ll take it from here.”

  With a nod, the foreman let himself out. Reed focused his attention on his brother, struggling to conceal his anger. “Why do we have to keep having this conversation, Joel?”

  The boy shifted restlessly. “Beats me. Why?”

  “Because you’re not listening. You can’t hang around the construction sites. You’re too young and it’s too dangerous.”

  “I’m sixteen next month. You were sixteen when you started working. Besides, I’d think you’d be glad I want a job instead of ragging me about it. There’s worse places I could be, you know.”

  “And you’ve been in a few of them already, haven’t you?”

  Joel’s expression closed down and Reed released his breath in a gusty sigh. “That wasn’t fair. I’m sorry. If you’d like a job, I’ll get you one. But not on-site. End of discussion.”

  “What discussion?” Joel complained bitterly. “We never discuss anything. You just make the rules and expect me to go along.”

  “Welcome to the real world, kid.”

  The dog whined at that point and Angie opened her purse again, extracting a leash. “Joel? Would you mind taking Scratch for a walk?”

  For the first time the boy’s gaze lighted on the dog. “Hey, I didn’t notice you before.” He crouched beside the animal. “Where’d you come from; fella?”

  “He’s with me,” Angie explained. “Let me warn you... He’s deaf. So if you need to give instructions, make sure he’s looking at you.”

  “Does he read lips?”

  “Yes.”

  “No!” Reed glared. “Don’t fill the kid’s head with all that nonsense. Dogs don’t read lips.”

  “Scratch does. He’s...special. I told you. He hears with his heart.”

  “Whatever,” Joel said with a shrug. He snapped the leash onto the dog’s collar. “Catch you guys later.” Not giving Reed a chance to protest, Joel and the dog darted through the door.

  “Dammit all! I wasn’t finished with him.”

  “You’ll have an opportunity later. And by that time you’ll both have cooled off enough to conduct a rational conversation.”

  “An expert, are you?”

  “Let’s just say I understand the yearnings hidden in a young man’s heart.”

  “I’ll bet you do.”

  He saw it again—the slight dimming of her inner flame. That incandescent spark surprised him. He’d never seen it so clearly displayed before. Nor had he ever seen the wound caused by a few thoughtless words. But with Angie Makepeace, he found the injury painfully visible, a dark cut slashing through the ethereal lightness of her spirit. Not only did he witness her reaction but, on some uncomfortable level, he felt it, as well.

  “I’m sorry, Angie. That was uncalled for.”

  Her smile of acceptance was more generous than he deserved. “You’re protective of your brother. I can understand that. But haven’t you noticed? He wants to be like. you, Reed. It doesn’t take any special talent or training to see that.”

  “Now there you’re wrong. Joel’s been in a state of rebellion since age ten—ever since his father died. He’s been in trouble with the law more times than I can count. Nothing major, but it would have escalated to that if someone hadn’t taken him in hand.”

  “And that someone was you?”

  He shrugged. “There wasn’t anyone else. My mother tried, but with Joel’s father gone...” He broke off, his silence speaking volumes. “When she couldn’t control Joel any longer, she asked me to take over.”

  “He lives with you now?”

  “For the past two years.” A darkness settled over Reed’s face, as though his memories were particularly painful. “I’ve done my best. I’ve tried to be mother, father and brother to him, but he’s determined to make his own path through life.”

  “Most of us are,” Angie observed.

  “True. Unfortunately, Joel takes it to excess. If I suggest he take the left road, he’ll choose the right just to be difficult. That’s why I have such strict rules.”

  “Rules?” A hint of dismay tinged the word. “I don’t suppose you limit your rules to Joel?”

  “They cover my professional, as well as my personal life.”

  Angie released a tiny sigh. “I was afraid you were going to say that. I’ll bet Goodenkind is getting quite a laugh over this one.”

  “Goodenkind?”

  “My supervisor. He’s aware I have this slight... aversion...to rules. He probably hopes you’ll correct that.”

  Reed shook his head. “Not a chance. I suspect getting you to follow rules is a full-time job, one I don’t have the patience or inclination to take on. Now where were we?”

  “We were discussing the terms of my employment.”

  “No. We were discussing terms of your unemployment. I believe I’d just fired you.”

  “Oh, right. And I’d just said you can’t.”

  “And I explained that I can.”

  She grinned. “Which means it’s my turn.”

  “I don’t have time for this. I have a construction firm to run.”

  “And a brother to care for,” she inserted gently.

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “Still, you need help.” She picked up the small book she’d been consulting earlier. “Which brings me to number four....” She slipped her glasses from the top of her head and returned them to their former perch on the tip of her nose. Sliding her finger along the page, she hesitated about halfway down. “Uh-oh.”

  He rested a hip on the edge of his desk, resigned to playing out her little farce. “Uh-oh?”

  She cleared her throat in what appeared to be a suspiciously nervous gesture. “I think we’ll come back to that one later. I was told to use my discretion regarding how much to reveal to you during our first day together.”

  “I see.” It didn’t take a mental giant to figure out what number four in her little black book concerned. He’d been right about her lack of experience. “Ms. Makepeace, have you ever worked as a secretary before?”

  “Of course.” She opened her impossibly small purse again and removed an impossibly large steno pad and pen. “See? I come fully equipped.”

  “Clever trick.”

  “Would you like to try me out?”

  He couldn’t resist. “On the desk or do you have a leather fetish, too? Now that Scratch is gone, the couch is available.”

  Her laugh curled around and through him. To his amazement, she didn’t take exception to his remark. If anything, she appeared apologetic. “Perhaps I should rephrase that.”

  What little patience he’d started the day with, finally ran out. He wanted a secretary, dammit, not a sultry angel too sexy for his peace of mind. “Don’t bother. The game’s over. I don’t know who sent you, but I don’t have time for this sort of nonsense. Go on. Take off.”

  She sighed. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

  “Sure you can. Try balancing yourself on top of those three-inch heels and wiggle that red dress over to the door. Then walk, shimmy, or whatever you call that cute little hip action. Just get yourself out of my office and out of my life. And take that polka-dot couch potato with—” He grimaced, belatedly recalling where the couch potato had gone.

  “What will you do about a secretary?”

  “I’ll order another. A real one.”

  Only this time he’d specify a woman in her sixties with a grandmotherly figure and a no-nonsense attitude who liked
rules as much as he did. In response to his comment, Angie settled more firmly into the chair as though she feared he’d physically eject her. Yeah, right. He didn’t dare lay a finger on her. Not the way he reacted whenever she came within touching distance.

  “Since we have to wait for Joel’s return anyway, go ahead.”

  “Come again?”

  “Order yourself up a new secretary.”

  “Order—”

  “Do whatever’s necessary to obtain another secretary. I’ll just wait. If you find someone, I’ll leave. If you don’t, you’ll give me the job.”

  “I’m not giving you the job, no matter what.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re not qualified. And to be blunt... You’d be a disruptive influence. With you around, no one would get an ounce of work done.”

  She shrugged. “If any of that causes problems on the job, then you can fire me. But I don’t understand why you won’t give me a trial run. Doesn’t everyone deserve a chance?”

  He stiffened. “Where did you hear that?”

  “Isn’t that your motto?” she questioned. “I understood you’d founded your construction company on that premise, that you have an open door policy toward excons and welfare moms and people in trouble. Or are they just words meant to win awards and impress politicians?”

  He clenched his teeth. “They’re not just words.”

  “But they don’t apply to me. Is that it?”

  A pit of his own making yawned before him. Dammit! Why hadn’t he seen this coming? He should have. He sure as hell should have. “I—”

  Her expression didn’t reveal an ounce of triumph. Instead he caught a glimpse of sympathy. “Yes?” She had him and knew it.

  “A two week trial period,” he forced through gritted teeth. “One screwup and you’re out the door. Understood?”

  Her smile glowed once more—a smile as beautiful as it was dangerous. “I understand.”

  “Don’t look so pleased. We haven’t discussed my rules, yet.” He took a perverse pleasure in watching her smile slip. “You know how to use that notepad and pen you’re waving around?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then start writing. Since you detest rules so much, I’ll limit myself to three for now. I also have a list of duties.”