The Boss and the Beauty

by Donna Clayton

  Kyle knew she was telling him something important, something more than just the problems she’d had with her mother, but he was so disturbed by the sudden pain expressed in her clear green eyes that he couldn’t make the connection.

  “Moving around from place to place was an awful experience for me,” she admitted. “Oh, I had everything a child could want. Clothes. Toys. Huge bedrooms all to myself. But I was so shy. So lonely. And the bedrooms would never stay the same for long before we up and moved to another city. Another big house.”

  Again he realized she was implying more than he was able to understand; however, he knew what she needed right now was someone who’d listen, not someone who’d ask questions.

  “You see,” Cindy tried to explain, “my mother was born into a family with a high social standing. She had a well-respected name. But practically no money. However, she found out quickly that she did have a commodity—her beauty. And she got by on it. Her face and body were her tickets through life.”

  She paused a moment, nibbling her bottom lip. “My ticket, too, I guess, since I traveled with her all through my childhood. But I decided to get off that ride. I didn’t like where it took me.”

  When she’d told him at the restaurant that she’d grown up traveling the world, Kyle had found the idea exciting. But now he had to admit, the experience for Cindy—her ride, as she’d just described it—hadn’t been as smooth, or as thrilling, as he’d imagined it to be.

  “My childhood made me clear on one issue,” she told him. “I’ve always been certain that I wanted to succeed on my intelligence. I wanted my ticket to be my brains, not my looks.” Her chuckle held no humor as she added, “Not that I could ever get by on my outrageous beauty.”

  The factious statement was meant to be self-deprecating; there could be no misunderstanding that. He wanted to dispute the point, but held his tongue. He didn’t want to say or do anything that might urge her to stop talking about her past. He found himself feeling almost breathlessly anxious to learn more about her.

  She smiled, melancholy shining in her eyes. “As a child I used to dream about what kind of mom I’d like to have. A mom who baked cookies, who took me to the zoo, or the beach, or just for a walk in the park. I wanted a mother who would come into my classroom during elementary school to give a helping hand during parties or during art class, or who went on class trips. Other moms did. But not mine. She was too busy sunning herself. ‘A woman has to keep up with her tan,’ she used to say.”

  Kyle got the distinct impression that Cindy’s “dream mom” wasn’t just the kind of mother she’d have liked to have, but also the kind of mother she’d like to be.

  She didn’t seem the least bit aware that he’d fallen quiet. She wasn’t aware that their conversation had turned relatively one-sided.

  Her beautiful gaze had taken on a far-off look, and he had to fight ferociously with the urge to touch her silken cheek, to somehow force those gorgeous eyes to focus on him. But he didn’t dare. He never before realized that he could become so hungry for the sound of a voice—her voice—and he refused to risk doing anything that might make her grow silent.

  “The most important thing I learned as a child,” Cindy said softly, “was the need for a person to support herself with her intelligence and her God-given talents.” Then she nodded, almost to herself.

  Without thought, she reached up with her free hand and brushed back a short, curling lock that had fallen against her forehead. At that instant he was struck with the notion that, with her guard down, with her thoughts and her conversation on the rare subject of herself, there simply wasn’t a woman more beautiful than Cindy anywhere in the world. And that beauty shone from within, having nothing to do with the mascara that emphasized her long lashes or the blush softly highlighting her cheeks or the lipstick glossing her sensuous lips.

  “But, you know,” she continued, “something happened to me on my birthday. Something very strange. I had this...revelation of sorts.”

  A tiny sigh escaped her then, and Kyle feared she wouldn’t continue.

  “A revelation?” he prompted.

  She nodded. “I’m thirty years old. I, um, enjoy my job, but the hours I spend at Barrington are just that—a job. Don’t get me wrong. I do love my career. I like being self-sufficient.” She blinked once, twice. “But I want a life. I want a relationship. I want someone to share with. Someone to laugh with. Someone to love. Someone who’ll love me. I want children. I want a home. I want a fireplace for chilly winter evenings just like this one. I want a big, floppy-eared dog and a cuddly kitten or two.”

  A small crease bit into her brow as she added, “I decided that I want more. Heck, I—I want it all.”

  Hearing the words she’d uttered, suddenly ultra-aware of all the innermost secrets she’d revealed, Cindy’s mouth clamped shut, her eyes widened a fraction and her spine went steel-rod stiff. She stood up, mindful of the awkward manner in which she’d pulled her hand from Kyle’s warm and comforting embrace.

  “I’m sure the coffee’s ready by now.”

  She hurried into the kitchen and braced herself against the counter. What in the world had gotten into her? she wondered. Why would she unload all that depressing stuff about her childhood on her boss? Her boss! Had she completely lost her mind?

  Kyle didn’t care if her mother had been—and still was—a brainless debutante who flitted from man to man, who treated her only child as if she were a superfluous entity needing little or no care and attention.

  “Okay, just stop,” she whispered to herself in the small kitchen. If she wasn’t careful, she knew the past had the potential of swallowing her up.

  With shaky hands, she opened the cabinet and took down two white coffee cups and matching saucers. She concentrated on the task at hand, pulling out a tray, reaching for the sugar bowl and filling the small pitcher with cream.

  She wished she didn’t have to go back out there. She wished she didn’t have to face Kyle. Surely she had come off looking like a whiney little brat who didn’t appreciate what her mother had been able to provide: food, clothing, a warm place to sleep at night.

  Cindy heaved a sigh, a short lock of hair flying with the effort. She needed to let him know that she did appreciate the things her mother had done for her...even if she didn’t agree with the method in which the woman had gone about affording them.

  The coffee smelled rich, the steam wafting in the air as she filled the cups. Then she lifted the tray, squared her shoulders and went back into the living room.

  Kyle was still sitting on the couch, seemingly lost in his thoughts as he munched on a cookie.

  “Here we are,” she said, setting the tray down on the coffee table. She handed him a cup.

  How should she start? she wondered. She couldn’t just blurt out that she wasn’t completely disparaging of her mother’s parenting attempts. That would make her sound like a bungling idiot, and after the way she’d complained, she’d already done quite enough to lead Kyle to that conclusion. But she did want him to know that there were a few good memories swimming around up in her head.

  However, before she could find a way to broach the subject, Kyle said, “Seeing as how you’ve come to some...ah, life decisions since your birthday, I can understand now why you’re wanting to go out with this guy from the mail room, uh—” his head cocked to one side “—what was his name again?”

  Cindy’s heart fluttered; her whole body felt flushed as her mind went completely blank. His name. His name. What was the man’s name?

  But then she was struck with a thought. Ignoring his question, and her embarrassment at being unable to answer it, she asked, “What do you mean, you can understand now? You didn’t before just this moment?”

  “Well...” His tone and his expression took on a mildly defensive manner. “I just didn’t like the idea that you were thinking of going out with a total stranger.”

  Feeling suddenly defensive herself, she said, “He’s not a total stranger. The girl
s have met him.”

  “They’ve met him,” he pointed out. “They don’t know him.”

  “He’s a Barrington employee,” she said, not having the slightest notion about why she should want to argue with Kyle about this since it was a lie to begin with. She had no intention of going out with Mike—

  Ah, yes. Mike. That was his name. Now she remembered. Mike from the mail room.

  “It’s just that,” Kyle continued, “as a woman, you need to be careful. It isn’t safe for you to go out with strange men.”

  “Strange?” Her brows lifted a fraction. “Have you heard something about Mike? Some gossip I should know?”

  “Of course not. You know what I mean.”

  Her annoyance fading, Cindy nearly grinned at his instant and obvious discomfort. He looked so cute when he was chagrined, when his brow furrowed in that adorable way and his dark eyes gleamed with quandary. He could be so...charming. So darned charming. And he didn’t even know it.

  Suppressing a sigh, she realized that there wasn’t another man on earth who could make her feel so many emotions in so short an amount of time: embarrassment, irritation, desire.

  Every inch of her skin seemed to grow warm. He was so close to her here on the couch. So close, she could easily reach out and touch him.

  “Not strange as in there’s something wrong with him.” Kyle went on digging himself out of the hole he’d found himself in. “I meant strange as in unknown.”

  She graced him with an easy smile meant to allay his self-consciousness. “I know what you meant. I was just teasing.”

  The attraction she felt for him at that moment was overwhelming, completely melting away her irritation like hot water poured over chips of ice.

  After the slightest pause, he huskily murmured, “You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” He set down his coffee cup and cleared his throat. “I really should be going.”

  “But you haven’t finished your cof—”

  He stood up, leaving no question of his intention to end their evening together. “I want you to know...”

  Kyle paused, waiting until Cindy set down her coffee and stood up, too.

  “I didn’t mean to make you angry,” he said. “With that comment about Mike. I really didn’t.”

  She simply nodded, not trusting her voice enough to speak. Hearing him say goodbye was the last thing she wanted right now. Their date had gone by too quickly. At this moment it didn’t matter that this tryst was pure fantasy. A pretend date. Nope, that didn’t matter at all. All she wanted was to be near him for just a little while longer.

  He walked toward her front door, and she followed. When he reached it, he turned to face her.

  “I think we should do this again,” he announced out of the blue.

  “You do?”

  “Mmm-hmm. You wanted to practice dating, didn’t you?”

  She simply stared at him.

  “Well, practice means doing something a few times over,” he said. “Not just once. Of course, I leave tomorrow to check out the Southern California site. But as soon as I return, we’ll go out dancing again.”

  Cindy felt her eyes widen. She couldn’t believe her luck. Kyle was going to take her out again, and she hadn’t had to concoct a single lie to get him to do it. Of course, this pretend dating stuff was all based on a complete fabrication. But at the moment, it was pretty easy for her to disregard that fact.

  “Oh,” he said, “I do assume that you wanted to practice the fine art of kissing good-night.”

  Without giving her time to even think of a response, let alone verbalize one, he slid his hand along her jaw and leaned toward her.

  “He kissed you?” Rachel sat up straight, nearly knocking over her half-empty bottle of ice tea.

  “Shhh.” Cindy glanced around the sparsely occupied break room self-consciously, whispering, “Do you have to be so loud?”

  “But you just said Kyle kissed you.” Her friend still sat on the edge of her blue plastic chair in Barrington’s break room.

  Hugging her arms around herself, Cindy groaned softly, every nuance of sheer torment she felt expressed in the ragged sound. “Yes,” she said to her friend, “he kissed me.” Her tone turned utterly forlorn as she clarified, “On the cheek.”

  Rachel’s expectant expression fell.

  “Oh, Rachel, I thought I’d die. I was miserable. I tossed and turned all night long. I was in agony, I tell you. Agony. I was burning up for him. On fire.”

  She sighed. “I wanted to weave my fingers through his hair. I wanted to pull his mouth to mine. I wanted...I wanted to...” She let the rest of her risqué fantasy fade into another sigh.

  Finally Rachel said, “Well, why didn’t you? It would have been the perfect opportunity to let Kyle know exactly how you feel about him.”

  “I couldn’t do that!” Cindy’s shoulders went stiff with horror. “He was under the impression that our evening together was a pretend date. Pretend. As in not real. He’d even warned me beforehand that what we were doing was practicing a good-night kiss.” Her facial muscles screwed up into an expression that left no doubt about how frustrated she was feeling. “And the whole mess is based on a wicked lie. A lie you and my other so-called friends made up.”

  “A lie you went along with,” Rachel softly pointed out.

  Her friend’s observation made Cindy fall silent. Then she groaned again.

  “I know,” she finally admitted. “I’d like to be able to blame everyone else for this confused predicament I’m in, but I can’t. I went along with it. No, it was more than that. I’ve willingly—eagerly—participated.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she added, “All because I’m so darned attracted to that man.”

  “Stop being so hard on yourself,” Rachel said. “You need to enjoy this. Every minute of it. Things might not work out how we’d like them to and all you’ll have are your memories of the few dates you’re going to have with him.”

  The perplexing half smile that suddenly tilted Rachel’s lips had Cindy intrigued.

  “On the other hand,” her friend said, “there is a fine line between what’s pretend and what’s real. Maybe a little time together—away from the office—will blur that line more and more for the two of you.”

  Chapter Seven

  Bright moonlight filtered through the filmy curtains, throwing shadows in all corners of the bedroom. Cindy tossed and turned. She was wide-awake, her body humming with need, her attempts to ignore the desire burning inside her only inflating her frustration more with each passing moment.

  Sleep wasn’t going to come anytime soon—that was clear to her.

  Flinging back the coverlet, she swung her legs over the edge of the mattress and got out of bed. She went to the window, rubbing her hands up and down the silky sleeves of her satin pajamas.

  The apartment complex supplied a play area for its residents’ children, and it was the playground that Cindy’s bedroom window overlooked. Of course, at two o’clock in the morning, the seesaws, swings and monkey bars were empty. Desolate and empty. Just like her life since Kyle left for California.

  It had been two long days since their date. Two days since he’d bestowed on her that heart-wrenchingly sweet kiss on her cheek. Two long, empty days of working without him at Barrington.

  He’d been kept so busy with site inspections that Cindy hadn’t had a chance to talk to him any more than simple, quick phone calls during which she assured him the Phoenix New Products division was running smoothly in his absence.

  She missed him. Terribly. Enough to cause her sleepless nights.

  Never in her life had she lost sleep over a man. Never had she lain awake, tossing this way and that, unable to rest because her thoughts wouldn’t stop churning, because her body wouldn’t stop throbbing with hot need.

  And when she was able to finally grab a few minutes of sleep, her mind would conjure shockingly erotic dreams. Dreams of Kyle’s strong, tanned hands smoothing across her naked flesh, slowly sliding over hips,
waist, breasts, his silky hair tickling the underside of her chin as his head dipped low, his tongue darting out to taste the heated nub of her nipple—

  Stop! she told herself firmly. She shook her head to clear the sensuous images from her brain. She had to stop this. Or she’d never get a single moment of rest tonight.

  Kyle would be returning tomorrow. Glancing at the clock, Cindy realized he’d be returning today. He’d be back at the office after lunch. And that meant he just might suggest taking her out to dinner tonight. Her pulse quickened with anticipation.

  She couldn’t wait to see him! She couldn’t wait to find out how his trip went. To tell him all that had happened in the office during the two days he’d been away. He’d want to know about the erroneous figures she’d found in the report issued by the accounting department. Yes, the discrepancy was minor, but he’d still be interested. And she was anxious to hear his opinion on her newest idea. He’d probably think this current inspiration of hers bordered on being too bold, too daring for Barrington Corp. but still she...

  A frown creased her brow as she stared, unseeing, into the Phoenix night. She wanted to share her thoughts and experiences with him. She wanted to listen as he told his travel adventures. She just wanted to be with him.

  All this time, she’d thought what she’d felt for Kyle was attraction. A physical fascination with a very handsome man.

  Yes, Kyle made her body ignite with a deep, mysterious longing, but now she was realizing that what she felt went beyond that. It went far beyond it. What she felt for Kyle was...

  “Love,” she whispered, a wondrous shiver coursing down the length of her spine. “I love him.”

  She couldn’t believe that until now she hadn’t pinned down her feelings as love. It astounded her to realize that she’d mistaken the deep emotions churning inside her as mere physical attraction.

  Through all her talk about wanting a lifelong companion, children, a home—even a floppy-eared dog—Cindy knew she’d had Kyle in mind as the man of her dreams all along. So why hadn’t she actually recognized her feelings as something as intense and permanent as love?