Bachelor Boss

by Christie Ridgway

  Oh, no.

  Now, that sounded like what she wanted to avoid. Her brain was spent, her body was all out of energy, there was nothing left inside her right now to deal with this particular person in the particularly right way. “Tomorrow—”

  “Now,” he bit out. “Right now.”

  “Carlo—”

  “It isn’t fun anymore, Lucy. Last night, for your information, was not fun. ”

  She drew back, wishing the couch cushions could absorb her and that she’d simply disappear. Her mind spun, but as it was weighed down by her tiredness, it only gave a couple of drunken revolutions as it tried to find a way that this wasn’t a rejection of her.

  “We can’t keep meeting ‘accidentally’ in my bed. Not for fun. Would you agree with that?”

  Lucy couldn’t keep up with the words tumbling from his mouth. “I don’t know what you mean. What you want…”

  “What I want…” He mumbled that under his breath, too. “What I want doesn’t seem to matter so much anymore.”

  Lucy sucked in a breath, trying to focus on what Carlo was saying and how he was acting. Did he want her to be the nonthreatening, nonsexual Goose again? Was that it? Was Ms. Sutton no longer welcome in his life? Between his sheets?

  The thought shouldn’t feel like a stab to her heart. She’d always known what they had was as temporary as her position at McMillan & Milano. If she now wanted more, it was her own dumb fault. Everybody knew you didn’t get over a crush by going to bed with one.

  And once you realized it was more than a crush and was really love…

  Stupid, Lucy, she thought, staring at the clenched fingers in her lap. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  “Here’s the deal, Lucy.”

  She looked up to see Carlo cross his arms over his chest. “We’re going to have to formalize our casual relationship.”

  “Huh?”

  “Everyone’s noticing it. Commenting upon it. I’ve been in a better mood. Easier to work with. Less intense. That’s you. That’s your influence. I like it.”

  She couldn’t think of what to say.

  “And I like you in my bed. I don’t want it to be an occasional ‘lapse.’ You shouldn’t want that for yourself, either. So we’ll…I don’t know…start seeing each other on a more regular basis.”

  “Starting Monday, I’m not going to be working for you anymore,” she pointed out, still trying to keep up with him.

  He shrugged. “We’ll make time around our schedules. Next week I’m booked pretty solid, but maybe we could meet for a drink on Thursday. Around ten?”

  Really, she was so exhausted from the evening and the odd roller coaster ride of the last few minutes that she could hardly form words. “At 10:00 p.m.?”

  “You could spend the night with me,” he said.

  “I could spend the night with you.”

  A little smile quirked the corners of his mouth. “So I lied. It was fun the other night and I want it to be that way again. You told me you’re a girl who wants to have fun and I’m more than willing to provide that.”

  So this is what she’d wrought. With all her twisting and turning to make what happened between them comfortable for Carlo, for all the times she’d worked so hard not to scare him away, she’d contorted herself into the position she found herself in right now.

  And all she could think of was that she didn’t know how to play the moment.

  How to play the moment.

  How to play the moment.

  How to be something she was not.

  Like all the years she’d played accountant, taking on a role with Carlo was just as, ultimately, unsatisfying.

  Heartbreaking.

  He’d given her the confidence to look beyond her training to a new kind of career. Now she’d have to find the courage to tell Carlo Milano what Lucy Sutton really wanted for her life.

  “I don’t want to formalize our casual relationship,” she said, her heart beating loud in her ears. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want a casual relationship with you at all.”

  “What?” His eyes narrowed. “You don’t want me?”

  Funny, he didn’t look like he believed that. “No. I don’t want you casually at all.”

  He took a step back. “You know, you know…I don’t—”

  “Do the couple thing. I do know that.”

  “Damn it, Lucy, you said…you acted as if…”

  “I could be as casual about things as you. As careless—”

  “I was never careless with you.”

  “You’re right, you’re right.”

  “What happened to the girl who said it wasn’t serious?”

  For some reason, Lucy thought of the perfect Elise. Despite his denial, was that who he wanted? Would he have wanted to be a couple if Lucy was more like Elise? But she’d been whatever everyone else wanted for too long. The silly younger sister, the sexy temporary secretary. Now it was time to be what Lucy wanted for herself.

  “That girl…that girl is really someone who should have been more honest with you and with herself. I want more. I want it all. And, thanks to you and what I’ve learned through working at McMillan & Milano, I now know I’m good enough, talented enough and, well, woman enough to reach for all my dreams.”

  “Lucy.” Carlo ran a hand down his face. “Damn it, Lucy.” Now, finally, he sounded as tired as she felt. And as if he truly understood the situation. Understood what she was saying. “I didn’t mean to…I didn’t see—”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong, not really.” He was still the star of so many of her sweet dreams. He was still the man who had given her this newfound confidence. She dredged up a smile for him. It wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t give her any more than that.

  “I’m in love with you. But I don’t want a casual relationship. I want a man of my own, and someday I hope I’ll find him.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Carlo stalked through the late-night crowds attending the Street Beat festival, the relentless drum rhythm from the nearest stage too close to the throb of a toothache. Less than an hour remained before the festival closed, and it couldn’t come quick enough for him. He always grew antsy as an event came to an end, whether it was a charity golf tournament or a holiday parade, but tonight his cop instincts were as palpably on alert as the raised hairs on the back of his neck.

  A big hand clapped between his shoulder blades. “There you are.”

  Startled, Carlo swung around to face the two blond men grinning at him. “What the hell—” Recognizing Lucy’s brothers, Jason and Sam, he tried to relax. “I didn’t know you guys were coming!”

  “With dates.” Jason fumbled through the introductions, and it was obvious he wasn’t entirely clear on which of the identical women with them was which. “Allie and Jane…or Jane and Allie…this is Carlo Milano.”

  The twins didn’t seem surprised that Jason couldn’t keep then straight. “Allie,” one said, squeezing his hand with a strong grip. The other gave a shy wave. “Jane.”

  They were both medium height, with willowy figures and medium-brown hair threaded with auburn. Each wore their hair in a chin-length style that wisped around their heart-shaped faces. Even as a trained observer, and Carlo considered himself a damn good one, if dressed identically these two would even be hard for him to individualize.

  “Elise set us up,” Sam confided. “This is the first time we’ve been out together.”

  “It’s nice to meet you both,” Carlo said, nearly having to shout as the music grew louder. “Hope you’re having a good time.”

  Sam’s mouth moved, but he couldn’t hear his reply.

  “What?”

  Leaning closer, Sam spoke directly into his ear. “We’re on the lookout for Lucy. Have you seen her?”

  Carlo nodded. In his dreams all last night. At least every fifteen minutes all today and this evening. As much as he’d wanted to keep his distance from her, she kept flitting into his consciousness or into his line of sight.

  What
was it about butterflies that always lifted a man’s mood?

  “I called her early this morning to tell her we’d be here tonight, but she practically bit my head off,” Sam continued, frowning. “Something about not needing a keeper. You know anything about that?”

  “I don’t know anything about her,” Carlo muttered. She’d completely flummoxed him last night in the trailer. After three weeks under the spell of her bright personality, accented by two nights of her silky body in his arms, he’d thought he understood Lucy. He’d thought he understood what Lucy wanted from him. And that she understood exactly how much—how little—he was looking for himself.

  And he’d made it clear every step of the way, hadn’t he? Up to and including last night in the trailer. I want to formalize our casual relationship. Okay, even to himself that made him sound like an ass, but the sentiment was honest.

  He’d been honest with her.

  An anger he’d been trying to suppress rose from his belly and fired a burn in his chest. There was a name for women who turned the tables on a guy like that. And it wasn’t Butterfly.

  Man-eater. That was it. He’d thought she was sweet, but boy, was he wrong! His anger ratcheted higher. A woman like Lucy said what she had to, did what she had to, to turn the male of the species upside down and inside out, making him so confused that he was easy prey.

  Once he was down, she’d go for all the tasty internal organs. She’d go for the heart.

  Too bad for her that Carlo didn’t have one.

  And lucky for him.

  The two couples in front of him were exchanging puzzled glances. “What?” he questioned, raising his voice. “What?”

  Jason gave him an awkward pat on the shoulder. “You okay, friend? You seem a little, uh, moody.”

  “If by ‘moody’ you mean black looks and dark mutters,” Sam added. “So we’ll leave you to it, if you’ll just point our way to Goose.”

  Goose. That was the damn problem. She’d waltzed into his office three weeks before and he’d remembered her as the sweet, soft, silly little Goose. His memories had left him unprepared for the sharp, sexy, grown-up female who had yanked him out of his dark corner only to tumble him onto his butt.

  Yeah, baby, he thought, anger spiking again. Thanks for that one hell of a trip and fall.

  Jason was staring at him again. “Goose,” he prodded. “Remember her?”

  “Forget that man-eater?” Carlo ground out. “Never.”

  Her brothers glanced at each other. Sam mouthed, Man-eater? Then their gazes swung Carlo’s way again and brightened to matching lasers. “What’s going on?” one said. “What have you done to Goose?”

  “She’s not a goose,” Carlo snapped back. “For God’s sake, at least get that straight. Your sister is a grown, capable woman, a…a…” Man-eater. But hell, he liked his nose just as it was so he wouldn’t risk repeating that again.

  “She can take care of herself.” He faced Sam. “And she doesn’t need you undermining that at every opportunity with talk of her photocopying her butt.”

  Jason lifted a finger. “Oh, I think that was me.”

  Carlo shook his head. “Never mind. You’re idiots, I’m an idiot, and as a matter of fact, if we’ve got an XY chromosome set, I’m beginning to think we’re all doomed to idiocy.”

  The more assertive twin, Allie, grinned. “I think I like your friend,” she said to the brothers.

  Carlo huffed out a sigh, then the band on the closest stage swung into another song with a headache-inducing beat that drummed pain into his brain. Would this night never end? “Let me show you where Lucy is,” he shouted over the noise. “She’s over by Stage 5. Silver Bucket is performing there.”

  “Oh,” Allie said, nudging her sister with her elbow. “Let’s go. We’re going to see that hottie, Wrench.”

  Wrench. Carlo ground his teeth as he led the small group toward the far stage. He supposed Lucy would find her way to the singer’s party suite that night. If only to thank him for letting her volunteers up on stage with him for his last set.

  Who was he kidding? A man-eater would go after Wrench because she was always hungry for more.

  That fire in his chest burned hotter. It was like an ulcer, chewing at his insides with feral teeth. Pushing his way through the concert-goers, he was finally halted by the wall of people gathered around the stage to hear Silver Bucket play. He was fifty yards away, and he was grateful for his height, which allowed him to see over the fans who were all on their feet and swaying or dancing to the music’s beat.

  Near the front of the stage, people were packed like sardines and Carlo’s cop sense started quivering again, harder. His people were down there, trained security personnel who were built like bar bouncers, and they should be able to keep the excited crowd in order. Still, something didn’t feel right, especially when he couldn’t see Lucy and her volunteers anywhere. He didn’t want them stuck in the middle of an amped-up mob. His fingers found the walkie-talkie clipped to his waist and brought it to his mouth so he could call an extra contingent of security to Stage 5.

  As he clicked off, he saw Lucy and a small group of teenagers appear onstage, behind and to the left of the drummer. Relief trickled through his tension.

  Okay. There. She wasn’t packed in with the gyrating multitude where an errant elbow or knee could bring her slight self down to the blacktop. On the stage, there was nothing more dangerous than a heavy metal rock band and their instruments.

  The current song they were playing died out, but they segued immediately into the next. The crowd screamed in an ululating cry of approval. The twin named Allie was close enough that he could hear her yell to Sam and Jason, explaining why the fans were going nuts. “This is their big hit,” he heard her yell. “‘Mosh Pit.’”

  Carlo’s stomach knotted as he saw the fans swarm forward, eliminating all the space between their bodies. Wrench yelled something unintelligible into the microphone and the crowd let out another screaming reply.

  Carlo didn’t wait to see what would happen next. Intending to make it to the stage come hell or high water, he started off.

  A hard hand caught his elbow. Jason. “Where’s Lucy?”

  Carlo could read the other man’s lips but couldn’t hear a sound over the noise around him.

  He pointed on the stage, then his heart froze. She wasn’t there.

  Where had she gone? His gaze darted around the musicians and their instruments as he tried to locate her.

  The fire inside him leaped higher, roasting the place where his heart would be if he’d allow himself to have one. Damn it! Damn it! If she hadn’t bewitched him with her infectious laughter, with the way she saw inside him, he wouldn’t be feeling this knife edge of panic.

  If she wasn’t such a temptress—a man-eater—

  Oh. Oh, thank God. There she was.

  His heart—that heart he wasn’t supposed to have—slammed like a knocking fist against his chest wall. Hello? Hello? Is anyone alive in there?

  And he was alive. More alive than he’d been since Pat’s death, he realized. He felt each beat thump inside his chest and felt the muscle work to push his blood through his system. His hot blood. His undetached, un-distanced blood rushing through a body that could no longer fool itself about what had happened to him in the past three weeks.

  Man-eater. Hah. How could he have even thought such a stupid thing about her for even an instant?

  He knew what was eating at him now.

  Despite how comfortable he’d been in the shadows, how easy he’d found it before to keep clear of those living and breathing around him, he’d gone ahead and fallen in love with sweet sunshine. With Lucy.

  Sam’s hand tightened on his arm. Carlo swung his head toward him.

  Her brother’s mouth moved again. Lucy?

  Carlo turned back toward the stage, where he’d seen her half-hidden by a tower of speakers. But before he could point her out, explosions erupted from both sides of the stage. Jets of light streamed skyw
ard, while white clouds billowed, obscuring the musicians—and Lucy and her volunteers.

  The pyrotechnics. The band known for their light and fire and smoke display had not held to their contractual promise—and instead had unleashed potential disaster.

  Carlo didn’t remember moving. One minute he was blinking to dispel the after-dazzle in his eyes, and the next he was halfway through the packed crowd. Halfway, but not close enough to Lucy.

  The sound of the crowd was so loud they were drowning out the music of the band and there was barely breathing space between each body. Carlo saw his beefy security guys still holding strong at the front of the stage, but the first fifty feet of people standing that near had turned the “Mosh Pit” song into a reality.

  As he pushed closer, gaining inches only to be shoved back a foot by the raucous crowd, he saw that Wrench was encouraging the craziness by the way he stood on the stage’s edge and sang to the first few rows, his bare-chested body bent at the waist.

  A girl popped out of the melee like a jack-in-the-box, trying for a kiss from Wrench. When she didn’t make her target, the group threw her up again.

  “Damn it,” Carlo muttered, pushing through the people around him with new strength. His front-of-stage security couldn’t last long without reinforcements, or without Wrench and the rest of Silver Bucket doing something to calm the crowd.

  But nothing could calm him, not when he saw Lucy rush toward the lead singer and grab the microphone out of his hand. Positioned at the very edge of the stage, she was saying something to him, then shouting into the microphone, pleading with the crowd, he realized, to quiet down. The whole place was a riot of sound and movement.

  Then another explosion sent sparklers of white fire across the stage. The crowd screamed and moved farther forward, arms outstretched, reaching for the band. Panic closed Carlo’s throat as he realized his security team couldn’t hold out against the wave of rabid fans, their excitement driven high by the forbidden pyrotechnics.

  And Lucy was still up there, so close to the edge, now handing the microphone to Wrench, who seemed to have come to his senses. He put his arm around Lucy’s waist, as if about to drag her away from the dangerous brink of the stage…