I Married the Boss!

by Laura Anthony

  “Ladies.” He nodded.

  “Hi, Mike,” Olivia said.

  “When’s the little one due?” he asked, shaking his head in the direction of her expanded tummy.

  Olivia smiled and circled her abdomen with both arms. “Three and a half weeks and counting.”

  “And Lucas is still making you work?” Mike pulled a sandwich from his paper sack.

  “Oh, no,” Olivia said. “Lucas wanted me to quit months ago but I promised Mr. Whitcomb I’d get everything in order for the end of the fiscal year. But Friday is my last day.”

  “So,” Mike said, focusing all of his attention on Olivia and virtually ignoring Sophia, “do you know whether the baby is going to be a boy or a girl?”

  Olivia blushed demurely. “We asked the doctor not to tell us the results of the sonogram. We want to be surprised.”

  Mike nodded his approval. “That’s a good old-fashioned attitude. Congratulations to you and Lucas.”

  “Thank you.” Olivia beamed.

  Sophia let out a sigh. Mike had charmed another one—hook, line and sinker.

  “I’ll talk to you later, Sophia. I’ve got to be getting back.” Slowly Olivia pushed herself up from the table. She reached to pick up the cellophane wrapper from her lunch.

  “Leave it.” Mike waved her away with his hand. “I’ll clean up.”

  “How thoughtful of you.” Olivia smiled at him, then threw Sophia a glance that said “Give the guy a chance.”

  “I’ve got to be going, too.” Sophia pushed back her chair. It scraped loudly across the tile. She picked up the remains of her lunch and noticed Mike didn’t offer to clean up her mess.

  “Have a nice afternoon, ladies,” he drawled.

  “You, too, Mike.” Olivia wriggled her fingers at him.

  Mike watched them leave, his complete attention focused on Sophia. He appreciated the way her hips swayed beneath that tight red skirt and the manner in which her curly blond hair bounced about her shoulders. Then, for some illogical reason he found himself wondering what Sophia would look like in Olivia’s delicate condition. Would she be one of those women who carried their babies low in front? Slender except for that jut of a basketball? Would she glow with the brightness of impending motherhood the way her friend Olivia did?

  “What in the hell are you thinking?” he growled to himself under his breath. Mike unwrapped his peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich but somehow lunch had lost its appeal. Darn Sophia Shepherd and her sexy ways! She had him thinking dangerous thoughts that were best not entertained.

  Especially since what he’d overheard when he first came into the room had confirmed his worst fears about her. Sophia had been pledging to Olivia that she was going to make Rex Michael Barrington III fall in love with her! Mike stared at his sandwich, trying hard to ignore the knot in his throat. The large-faced clock over the door hit twelve noon and people started arriving in the break room, laughing and joking together. He returned their greetings absentmindedly, his thoughts on Sophia and what he must do about her.

  He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed pensively. So, she was determined to marry her boss. A man she’d never even seen. How could she be in love with him? There was only one explanation. She wanted to marry Michael Barrington for his money.

  He took a sip of his coffee now gone tepid, and winced. But she was attracted to him, dammit. Mike knew he wasn’t wrong about that. There was no mistaking that hungry look in her blue eyes when he’d almost kissed her in the basement corridor that morning. No denying the tremor that had run through her body when he touched her. No ignoring the sharp current of sexual electricity coursing between them.

  What would she do, he wondered, when she discovered that Rex Michael Barrington III was none other than Mike Barr, office mailman? What would be her reaction then?

  Mike snorted. He’d bet anything Sophia would suddenly change her tune about dating Mike.

  Maybe going undercover in his father’s company had not been such a great idea. Eight months ago it had seemed like the smart thing to do before Dad retired and he took over as president. Since he’d been in Germany for the past ten years setting up and running the European division of the Barrington Corporation, not many employees even knew what he looked like. It had been quite simple posing as the office mailman, and it had given him an insider’s view of the company that he would not have been privy to any other way.

  So far, it had been an eye-opening experience, although not always a comfortable one. He’d caught one employee stealing and another selling trade secrets to their competitors. Based on the information he’d obtained as Mike the mailman, his father Rex had fired both employees. While the charade had worked well, Michael couldn’t help but feel a little underhanded about the whole thing.

  And now there was this business with Sophia.

  When he’d asked Patricia Peel to name Sophia as his assistant, he’d honestly chosen her for her exceptional secretarial skills. But it hadn’t taken long, through phone calls and fax messages for them to develop a very close working relationship.

  The fact that Sophia was a traffic-stopping beauty was secondary, but Mike had to admit, he enjoyed looking at her.

  Yet could he trust a woman who plotted to marry her boss for his money? What should he do about it?

  Teach her a lesson.

  The notion rose in his mind and seemed brilliant in its conception. Yes. Sophia deserved to have the proverbial tables turned on her. She needed to see what it was like to be the victim of a carefully orchestrated seduction.

  And he was just the man to do it.

  Could he make Sophia fall for him? Could he get her to see beyond financial trappings to the man beneath the exterior? It was the only way to know for sure if Sophia was a hard-hearted mercenary without a conscience, or if given the opportunity to see the error of her thinking, would she indeed eschew money and follow her heart? It was the only way to know if something more lay beyond the physical attraction he felt for her. Michael had been burned before. He wasn’t going to become emotionally invested in a woman until he knew for sure she loved him for himself and not for the Barrington name. Could he make her fall in love with Mike the mailman?

  The idea excited him.

  While Sophia was scheming to make Michael Barring on III fall in love with her, he was going to be doing a little scheming of his own.

  Smiling, Mike pushed back his chair and got to his feet. He had a goal; all he needed was to put his plan into action.

  No time like the present.

  Sophia left the office at five-thirty, carrying a satchel called with paperwork. Most everyone else had already one for the day. Sophia frequently worked after hours to complete projects for Mr. Barrington and today was no exception. But she didn’t mind. She wanted to prove to her boss she was a hard worker. Someone he could always ely on. Someone who would be there for him through thick and thin. Someone he could trust with his life. She left the building through the side entrance, walking last the masonry wall flush with climbing bougainvillea and surrounded by oleander hedges. The relentless August eat followed her through the parking lot, beading sweat on her brow. Removing the scarf from around her neck, he blotted her forehead with it and entertained thoughts of a large soft drink poured over crushed ice.

  Keys clutched in her right hand, she quickly opened the ar door. The seat was excessively warm, despite the car-doard guard she’d placed in the window to protect the ashboard from the sun. She should have parked facing last not west.

  “Ouch, ouch, ouch,” she cried when she touched the key to the ignition and the hot metal burned her fingers. One of these days she was going to move to a cooler limate. She would already have left Arizona if it hadn’t seen for her mother.

  Opening the vinyl console located between the driver’s eat and the passenger side, Sophia removed a paper napkin and wrapped it around her hand to protect her skin while she tried the ignition again.

  She heard an ominous click and nothing else. />
  No! Not more car problems.

  Sighing, she rested her head against the steering wheel In the last three weeks she’d had to buy a set of tires, a battery and two headlights. The vehicle was twelve years old with over a hundred and fifty thousand road miles and held together by little more than her prayers. Between living expenses and her mother’s ongoing medical bills, Sophia existed from paycheck to paycheck. She couldn’t afford for something else to be wrong with the car.

  Taking a deep breath, she blotted her brow again before keying the ignition once more.

  Same results.

  What was she going to do now? Sophia moistened her lip with her tongue. She didn’t have money for a taxi.

  If only she had left work on time, she could have hitched a ride with a co-worker.

  What to do?

  One thing was for certain, she couldn’t stay here in the roasting car. Sophia opened the door and got out, scanning the asphalt parking lot for a vehicle belonging to someone she knew. Surely she wasn’t the only one working late.

  At the far end of the lot there was a blue van parked next to a compact foreign car and beside that was...

  A Harley-Davidson motorcycle.

  With a man standing beside it, donning a helmet. Oh no. Please not Mike.

  Sophia gripped the car keys tighter. She’d rather spend the night in her office than ask him for a ride.

  Mike straddled his Harley and revved the powerful engine.

  Had he seen her? If he hadn’t already, he would soon There was no leaving the parking lot without driving past her disabled vehicle.

  Mother was home. Alone. And although Jannette Shepherd did all right throughout the day, she needed help getting to bed at night. Sophia couldn’t stay at the office.

  Pride goeth before a fall, Sophia thought grimly and shouldered her purse.

  Mike spotted her standing there with her thumb stuck out like a hitchhiker. He pulled to a stop, raised the visor on his helmet and grinned at her.

  “Going my way?” he asked.

  “I need a ride,” Sophia said. “My car’s dead.”

  “That’s a shame.” He shook his head.

  “I’ll call a tow truck from home. If you can just give me a lift, I’d be eternally grateful.”

  “How grateful?” His grinned widened.

  “Grateful enough to buy you dinner.”

  “Is that all?”

  His joking irritated her. “Oh, forget it,” she snapped. “I’ll take my chances walking.”

  “I was just teasing, Sophia. Relax. You’d fry to a crisp before you could walk a mile. I’d be more than happy to give you a ride. Where do you live?”

  “Sand Mesa Heights.”

  His eyebrow lifted. Obviously he knew the area. “That’s a long way off,” he replied, thankfully not pointing out it was also located in an older part of southern Phoenix that lately had been plagued by gang violence as the neighborhood had fallen into ruins. That was another reason she couldn’t let her mother stay by herself at night.

  “I’ve lived there all my life,” Sophia said defensively, jutting out her chin, daring him to make a negative comment. She couldn’t help where she came from.

  “You’ll need a helmet,” Mike said mildly. “I keep an extra one in the mail room.”

  “What for?”

  “Never can tell when you might find a lovely lady looking for a ride.” He winked and Sophia wondered exactly how many women had ridden double with him on the Harley.

  “Wanna come in with me?” He grinned, and a shiver of response raced up her spine.

  “I’ll wait here,” she replied, not trusting herself to be alone with him in an empty building.

  “Be back in a flash,” he assured her.

  Sophia waited while Mike trotted back into the Barrington building. She shouldn’t be so excited, and yet she was. She realized she wanted to ride behind him, to feel the vibrating strum of that big motorcycle engine between her legs.

  She watched Mike ascend the stairs as Rex Barrington came down them. Mr. Barrington was a kind, fatherly sort of man with excessive pride in the company he’d built from the ground up. He and Mike stopped on the steps and exchanged pleasantries. Mike pointed in her direction. Mr. Barrington waved. Sophia wriggled her fingers.

  This is your opportunity. Flag down Mr. Barrington and ask him to take you home. He owns a Mercedes.

  Nice as Mr. Barrington was, the man sort of intimidated Sophia with his keen intelligent green eyes. But, if she rode with him, she could ask him about Michael. Then again, she’d miss the chance to hang on to Mike’s slim waist.

  Tom, Sophia hesitated. In that minute, she saw a black Mercedes drive up to the curb and pick up Mr. Barrington, his secretary, Mildred Van Hess at the wheel.

  Never mind, Sophia thought. She didn’t want to intrude on what appeared to be more than an employer-employee relationship between the two of them.

  Mike returned as quickly as he promised. He passed the helmet to Sophia and swung aboard the motorcycle while she snapped it on and fastened the strap under her chin.

  “What now?” she asked.

  “Climb on behind me.”

  Sophia looked down at her short narrow skirt and back at Mike. “Yeah, right.”

  “Hike it up,” he said.

  Sucking in her breath, she did as he suggested, pulling the skirt up her thighs. His gaze blatantly traveled the length of her legs and he whistled low and long.

  “Cut it out,” Sophia huffed, grateful that the darkened visor hid her blush.

  He laughed, loud and clear. “Get on, Miss Prim.”

  She swung a leg over the smooth warm leather. It molded like butter against her bare skin. She wrapped her arms around Mike’s waist, but kept her hands clasped loosely in front of him.

  He put the Harley in gear and the motorcycle shot forward. Sophia squealed her dismay and tightened her grip, clinging to him like a nettle to a cotton sock. He laughed again.

  Sophia leaned up close enough to growl in his ear. “You did that on purpose.”

  Mike shrugged. It was admission enough of his guilt. “Hang on,” he shouted and let out the throttle.

  They weaved through late-afternoon traffic, the asphalt flying away beneath the tires. Sophia had never ridden a motorcycle before and she was terrified. The way Mike zigzagged through the cars had her heart leaping into her throat every few blocks.

  But despite her fear, she experienced another sensation. One that took her by surprise: She felt exhilarated, liberated, freed. The palm trees and telephone poles flashed by on the arid roadside. The wind rushed over her skin raising goose bumps of pleasure. The pulsing engine beneath her legs felt like a live thing, sending a liquid heat throbbing through her bottom and up her spine. Her hands, laced together in front of Mike, could make out every muscle of his washboard-tight abdomen.

  For the next twenty minutes, Sophia did nothing but feel. She didn’t try to think or rationalize. She let her emotions flow in a jumble, slipping over her, around her, through her. At last she understood the appeal of a Harley. They were sexy machines, fast and strong, but plush and roomy, built for taking off, cruising the highway, leaving your troubles behind. They stirred the untamed wildness that lingered, if only a tiny bit, in almost everyone.

  Mike shifted in his seat and prayed that Sophia wouldn’t accidentally let her hands slip downward. If she did, she’d realize just how aroused he was. Her bare thighs were pressed hard on either side of his legs, and every time he turned his head left or right, he was assaulted by the sight of them. Slender, firm, richly flesh colored. And those shoes! Yikesl Crimson in color with three-inch heels.

  Her breasts, resting against the back of his chest were almost as much of a distraction as those delicious legs. The blouse she wore was soft and silky, making it feel as if there wasn’t much between Sophia’s bare skin and him.

  Maybe disabling her car and offering her a ride on the Hog hadn’t been such a bright idea after all. He hadn’t
expected to feel so out of control by a little physical contact.

  “Which way?” Mike asked when they came to a stop at an intersection. He let the engine idle at the red light, his feet planted firmly on the ground to balance them.

  This part of Phoenix was older than the area of town where the Barrington Corporation was housed. Mike rarely ventured out this way. Many of the storefronts were vacant. Graffiti defaced bus benches and the sides of buildings. Litter lined the gutters and glass beer bottles were nestled against overflowing trash cans. Clumps of young men in tank tops and tattoos stood on the street corner, eyeing the Harley and Sophia covetously. An uneasy feeling settled over Mike. Sophia lived in this neighborhood?

  “Take a right,” Sophia directed. “Go six blocks and make another right. You’ll come to Santa Teresa Drive. Take a left at the second stop sign. That’s Red Rock Circle? It dead-ends at my driveway.”

  He followed her instructions, cruising down the narrow streets. The smell of numerous suppers being prepared filled the air. He caught a whiff of chili powder and jalapeños. Most of the residences were small and old, with peeling paint jobs and untended lawns.

  At one house on Santa Teresa Drive a group of children in dirty T-shirts played on the sidewalk while an elderly woman with a worn expression sat motionless in a rocking chair, keeping watch from the wide screened-in porch. Sophia waved her hand in greeting. Wary at first because they didn’t recognize her on the back of the Harley, the children hesitated before raising their hands in response.

  “Señorita Sophia,” they called after her in greeting, “where did you get the motorcycle?”

  “It belongs to my friend, Mike,” she called back.

  My friend.

  It felt good to hear her say that. Except Mike wanted to be much more than Sophia’s friend.

  The house where he stopped on Red Rock Circle wasn’t in any better condition than the rest, except here, a flower garden flourished. Mike wasn’t good at naming flowers, but they were pretty ones in many shades and hues and emitted a deliciously fragrant aroma that welcomed him like a hug. A large white cat lay curled beneath a birdbath under an olive tree and this was where Sophia ran the minute Mike shut off the engine.