The Boss Man: A Steamy Contemporary Romantic Suspense Novel (The Manly Series Book 4)

by Teddy Hester

  Earlier, it was like we were playing a goddamn game of ping-pong. She’d volley, and I’d react, lobbing a shot to her, then she’d react and lob a shot back at me. Back and forth until I couldn’t recognize myself. But by the end, the more riled that woman got, the calmer I got. And she responded to the calm.

  The really weird thing is, the whole time I envisioned winding my hands around her neck to throttle her, I was also thinking that as long as my hands are there, they might as well hold her in place while I shove her against a wall and release my frustration deep inside her lush body.

  I didn’t want to yell at her. I wanted to pound into her.

  I’ve never felt that conflicting set of urges before. I’m the guy who walks away when things get heated or complicated. If you’re a troublesome employee, I let you go. If you’re a high-maintenance chick, I move on.

  Leftover lust from the pool party. That’s what this has to be. We were supposed to slake ourselves on each other that night and be done. Sleepy and satisfied.

  But it hadn’t happened, and now I’m trapped. This is my livelihood. Others depend on me. I can’t just walk away. I could cut her loose, but I wouldn’t be proud of myself for it. Plus, it wouldn’t erase her from my mind.

  That’s a whole other problem. The mental boner I can’t seem to get rid of. In fact, more often than not, even just thinking about her, that mental boner travels south. Making an extended stay. Taking up residence.

  Cute, asshole. Nice metaphor.

  The Jilly conundrum is too much to process right now. I need to be thinking about what to say to the crew at dinner.

  When I step inside the pumphouse, she’s working the crowd, charming people, relaxed and laughing. My crewmen, department supervisors, and other clerical help have joined her and Danny for dinner.

  I slow up and take in the wide pull of Jilly’s lips as she smiles at something somebody says, and the way she sparkles with pleasure. She likes my crew. And they seem to like her, folding her into the group, like she belongs there instead of at some swanky place.

  She reaches to pluck a grape from Harry’s lunch. It forces her breasts together and her t-shirt to gape. It doesn’t pass the notice of several of the guys, who are less than subtle about leaning forward to get a better view. I stalk to the office, coming back with my lunch, to settle in close to her. She smells clean and fresh.

  I’m suddenly ravenous. But not for a turkey sandwich.

  The tic in my jaw makes a few of the men back off to consume their food elsewhere. I rein in my hasty reaction to the lust pulsing through my veins and motion them back, while Jilly samples a Goldfish cracker from the Baggie Danny offers her.

  Our gazes connect, hers open and easy, which is a relief, considering the way we left things before.

  “No food?” I ask.

  She pops another cracker into her mouth and shrugs. “I ate it earlier.”

  I’d better look into stocking my little frat fridge with extra food for her. Or for the men whose food she shares. My workers need to eat if they’re going to keep working at peak performance.

  I pass her the candy bar from my lunch, as I begin the meeting. “First thing on the agenda: say hello to our new office staff member, Jillian Vickers. She’s a freelance journalist writing a piece on this project, including us. And she’ll be taking some of the load off you for administrative tasks. Introduce yourselves when you have a moment, and let her ask you a few questions.”

  She waves and stands up. “Hi, I’m JT. I’ve been hired to write an article for a scientific blog dedicated to the greening of Texas, and I like to put a human face on things. If I pester you too much or ask something you don’t want to answer, just let me know, and I’ll back off.” She pauses to give a coy smile and flutter her lashes. “Maybe.”

  The crew laughs, and I give my head a slight shake at her audacity. She’s inspiring. A master at massaging a crowd. The vixen swings her gaze my way, and I give her a hint of a wink before continuing with my meeting.

  “Good. Now, I understand we’re having a problem with items going missing?”

  The meeting over, I should head back to work. Instead, I find myself focused on the way she unwraps my candy bar, the way she nibbles at it, her lips holding it in place. My mind naturally moves to imagining those lips on me. I practically jump to my feet, trying to jar that thought out of my head. “Come on.”

  She glances around at the crew packing up and trickling out the door. “Where are we going?”

  A couple of men grin and stuff leftover food into their lunch pails. I bite back an oath. “You’ll see.”

  I help her to her feet and head for the front door.

  “You know where to get me,” I toss back as I usher Jilly into the pitch-black Texas night.

  We walk around the man-made pond behind the pumphouse, out of the well-lit hustle-bustle of the project, to a desolate stretch of desert. I sit down in the dust and motion to Jilly to do the same.

  After only a second’s pause, she does. I pass her half of a turkey and tomato sandwich.

  “Thank goodness! I didn’t know how I was going to make it ‘til morning.” She bites into it and chews with relish. A girl with an appetite makes eating more pleasurable. I tear my gaze away from that tantalizing mouth and chomp down on some turkey and whole wheat.

  It’s not really pitch-black out; the worksite around the plant is lit, and twinkling stars are all around us here beside the pumphouse, seeming to close in to form a sparkling cocoon around us as we sit, eating together in silence.

  She inhales deeply, drinking in the clean night air. “What’s that underneath our office?”

  I glance over to where she indicates and smirk. “The pumps.”

  “Oh.” She giggles.

  One side of my mouth curves up. “Have a chip.”

  She reaches into the sack I’m holding between us. “It’s nice out here.”

  “Yeah. It’s one of the things I like best about working nights.”

  “But I’m sure it interferes with sleeping.”

  “Yeah, it takes some getting used to. You’ll see. But I don’t sleep much on a job.”

  “That explains a lot.”

  I study her. “About what?”

  “About your cranky mood earlier.”

  My snort isn’t particularly gentlemanly. “Lack of REM had nothing to do with that, and you know it.”

  “Maybe.” She sniffs defiantly. “But you took your anger out on Danny Chapman, too. I imagine he could use some positive feedback from you.”

  “He’s all right. Now that you mention it, though, how did you make your peace with him? He wasn’t happy about being manipulated.”

  “Well, he was stand-offish at first, no thanks to you.”

  “But you kept at him.”

  She nods. “Yep. It took some work, but he finally relented and let me back in.”

  “Good.”

  “Good?”

  “Yeah, I don’t like tension in the workplace.” Jilly raises a disbelieving brow, which I ignore. “Fruit?”

  Delicate fingers reach for the plum, leaving me the yellow apple.

  “You found the bathroom, I assume?”

  She cocks her head at me and smiles. “Yes. Thank you. You could have told me, you know.”

  “You could have trusted me.”

  The stone in the plum’s center crunches when she bites too deeply. “I guess,” she mumbles from behind her hand, as she tries to stem the juice trickling down her chin. My tongue would like to take the place of her hand. I imagine plum juice would taste even sweeter being licked off her face.

  I clear my throat to keep from choking on said tongue. “Why don’t you trust me?”

  A chip of plum stone has broken off with her last bite. She bounces it up and down in her hand, as if testing its weight while she’s testing the weight of her response to my question. Finally, she pitches it to the ground beside her. “Truth?”

  “Always.”

  “I li
ve with my father and two, grown brothers. And I love them to pieces. But I’m the little girl, the little sister, all the time. Even now that I’m through college. I barely get to breathe without their help.” There’s no mistaking the frustration in her voice.

  Her situation rings a bell with me. I’m always fighting for a place at the table in my family. When my brothers aren’t pranking me, they’re smothering me. I learned to play my cards close to the vest, so I could make a few decisions on my own and find out what kind of man I am. Whatever sports they went out for, I shunned. Their social scene didn’t become mine. They drive expensive foreign cars, I have a motorcycle and a truck. They all went to Duke. I found a counselor to help me get into Bartlett at University College London. The list goes on and on.

  It’s still a fight. This job is part of that fight. “I get it.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes, Jilly, I do. But that doesn’t mean I don’t expect you to do what I say here on the job. My crew’s a team, and we all pitch in to get the job done. A lot of things on these projects are dangerous. Ask questions if you need to for help or clarification, but there’s no room for second-guessing the boss.”

  “Okay. So, is that your idea of an apology for before?”

  I grimace and throw a quick glare in her direction. “Don’t push it.”

  She looks smug. That cocky look is just screaming for me to wipe it off her face. “This would be an opportune time to reciprocate, Jilly.”

  There’s enough sarcasm in my voice to snag her attention.

  “What?”

  “Your apology. Are you having trouble with that concept? Here, I’ll get you started. Say after me, ‘Jack, I’m very sorry for being an insubordinate employee on my very first night on the job—’”

  She sputters a laugh.

  “Too fast for you?” I inquire solicitously. “Let’s try again. ‘Jack, I’m sorry—’”

  “Stop it. I’m perfectly capable of composing a gracious apology myself—when it’s warranted.” She glares, but it’s feigned. “I certainly don’t need your assistance.”

  “I’m just helping you.”

  “Like the other men in my life?” She slices me a freezing look, then stares straight ahead. I’m unperturbed.

  She waits a few beats longer, then sighs. “What was that speech again?”

  I grin. “Jack, dear boss—”

  “Now, hold on there—”

  “Jack, my dear, sweet boss—”

  Jilly’s head dips like she wants to butt me in the stomach. “I hope that grin splits your face in two.”

  “Tsk, tsk. Try again.”

  Her eyes narrow, but she’s fighting back a smile of her own. “Jack. My dear, sweet boss,” she mimics snidely, practically whining out the words.

  “I am so humbly sorry—”

  “Humbly?” she repeats indignantly, all trace of whine gone.

  “I am so terribly, abjectly, humbly sorry—”

  “Okay, okay, I get the picture. ‘Jack, my dear, sweet boss, I am so terribly, abjectly, humbly sorry—’.” She shakes her head in disgust. “Boy, you can say that again,” she mutters under her breath.

  And she does. Many, many more times.

  “Aaaaaa-men,” she chants at the end of a lengthy recital.

  “Irreverent hussy.”

  It’s ridiculous, the silly game, but we’re both enjoying the silliness, laughing along as I pour on more teasing, making her say things to me that she never would have under any other circumstances—outrageous, ego-stroking things. A couple of times, she goes so far as to embellish my own dialog, much to my surprised delight.

  At some point, I stop laughing and drink her in—her lightness, her beauty, the softness of her laughter—and the desire to pull her onto my lap slams into me. Wrestling with it, knowing what a tremendous mistake it would be, I still reach for her, extending my arm to clasp her by the waist.

  She shivers at my touch, and her eyes go wide. “Jack?”

  If I don’t get a taste of her, I’ll be pawing the dirt like a crazed bull. My grasp tightens, preparing to drag her mouth close enough for me to capture.

  Her gaze jerks to my lips descending toward hers. I can smell her shampoo and feel her body’s heat.

  Suddenly, my name booms out over the loudspeaker—a soul-wrenching record-scratch—and my breath catches in my chest.

  With a last longing gaze, we break apart.

  The Project Manager internal mask drops over my features. We gather up the remainder of our shared meal. I help Jilly up, and we head in separate directions. Wordlessly. Crushed under the weight of what we almost let happen.

  It’s only later, when I reach in my back pocket, that I discover my gloves are missing.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The End of Nine Days to Deadline

  “Hi, Jilly! Where’ve you been?”

  Recognizing the sandy-haired man standing with legs splayed and hands on his hips, I pick up my pace and close the distance between us. “Had some copying to do. How are you, Felix? Throw any more women into swimming pools recently?”

  The reminder of his behavior at the party brings a little color to his cheeks. But his smile is friendly and welcoming. “Nope, I’ve been too busy. I’m doin’ good. Welcome to my world. How’s it treatin’ ya?”

  I get us meandering back toward the pumphouse. “So far, so good, I think.”

  “Getting some good info for your blog?”

  “Oh, man, you wouldn’t believe some of the stories these guys have.”

  Felix laughs, and the familiar sound makes me a little homesick, which is crazy, since I only left home not even twelve hours ago. But being out here in this alien world, it feels like I’m a million miles away. He’s sort of a lifeline to the world I came from. “The stories can’t be any crazier than the ones you and my brothers tell.”

  “True. You shouldn’t believe half of ‘em, Jilly. We’re all big talkers around here.”

  “You mean like when you and Rafe tried to convince me that Santa Claus didn’t really live at the North Pole, he just told people that so they wouldn’t steal all the toys?”

  He stops and marks a cross over his heart, face somber as a judge. “Oh, no, that story is true!”

  “Yeah? So Santa and Mrs. Claus really live in a grass hut on a private island a little east of Bora Bora?”

  “We had proof, if you recall.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, and we start walking again.

  “Oh, that’s right. A post card of them, lying back on lawn chairs, sipping something from coconuts. Santa in a red Speedo scarred me for life, I’ll have you know.”

  “Granny in her matching bikini didn’t do much for me, either, I have to admit. Do you remember what we said about the stockings?”

  I shudder. “Fish heads instead of lumps of coal if I was a bad little girl.”

  “You wouldn’t go near the mantle where they were hanging.”

  “Not at first, for sure. And then, when I finally got the courage to try, I pulled out that rubber shark with a mouthful of teeth—”

  “—I thought you were gonna scream the house down! You had some set of lungs, Jilly-girl. My ears rang for days.” He chuckles. “Fun times.”

  My eyes roll. “Bastards, all of ya.”

  He has the audacity to try to look stricken. “It’s the way we show you we love you, baby girl.”

  I hate that nickname. “I’m not that gullible child anymore, Felix.” We’re almost at the pumphouse door, where I guess we’ll split up and go back to our respective jobs.

  His head swings toward me, his gaze scanning up and down. “I’ve noticed.”

  “Don’t be gross,” I moan. Then I give him an arm slap, for good measure.

  “Ow!”

  “JT? There you are.”

  Damn. Here I am telling Felix I’m not a kid anymore, while scuffling with him on AmerItalia time. “Danny? Here’s that copying the boss asked for.”

  “Good. Now we need you to make
a run to the all-night hardware store in Corpus.”

  I glance over at Felix, who’s frowning. “That’s over an hour away. Jack’s okay with an employee being gone that long?”

  “Sure. It’s done all the time for different things. Come on in so we can go over the list.”

  “Okay. Well, Felix, thanks for stopping by. It’s been nice seeing ya.”

  He shakes his head and skewers Danny with a look. “Somebody should go with her.”

  “I’m fine, Felix. I don’t mind going alone.”

  He ignores me, still staring at Danny. “I’m going with her.”

  Danny shrugs. “That’s between you and your boss.”

  “I am my boss. While you fill her in on what she needs to buy, I’ll call my guys.”

  “You didn’t have to come with me, you know, Felix. I’m sure you have more important responsibilities back at the site.” We’re in my car after picking up the tools Danny sent me for, and stopping for a couple of tacos. This late night job is messing with my hunger cycles. It’ll be a bitch if it ends up costing me ten extra pounds.

  In the passenger seat, he slurps some soda up his straw. “Maybe not. But I didn’t like the idea of you being on these back roads in the middle of the night. Anything could happen. Roi-Tex always uses a buddy system.”

  “Well, thanks. And now I have an opportunity to interview you for the article.”

  “I thought it was supposed to be about AmerItalia.”

  “Yeah, so give me your impression of having them on the job.”

  “They’re a good crew. Talented. Get right to business. And they’re fast. I’ve never seen such accuracy with welds that fast.”

  “So, you think the contract will come in on time?”

  He snorts. “If your boss has anything to say about it. He’s like a drill sergeant with his guys. They work like a machine, organized, efficient.”

  “That’s a lot of praise. So, no complaints?”

  Felix hesitates.

  “Go on.”

  “Nothing I can put my finger on, Jilly. But DePaul’s a different bird.”