What about his precious professionalism?
Why did she care?
Libby hastily looked back at her own phone book. It didn’t sound like he was flirting back with “Sue,” but he was such a stickler for being cool and professional she’d have expected him to end the conversation with the first calculated giggle.
“How many agents have you talked to?” he asked after another hour.
She counted. “Eight who promised to fax something today.”
“I’ve got fifteen. Let’s see if anything has come in, and we can decide which properties we’re going to look at first.” He picked up the phone. “Margie? Yes, I know a lot is coming in on the machine. Bring it in.”
Margie sidled into the office like a frightened rabbit and handed Neil a stack of paper. Libby gave her an encouraging smile before she left, recognizing the sign of fresh tears on the other woman’s face.
Neil didn’t even look up and Libby wanted to kick him. Granted, Margie was new to working in an executive suite, but she’d been with the company for a long while and she was going through a tough time with a sick daughter. A little sensitivity from her equally new boss would help.
“Looks like some good stuff to start with,” Neil muttered, sitting next to Libby on the couch, and flipping through the faxed sheets.
He recognized the ones from the agents he’d talked with. They were adequate, but Libby’s faxes were much longer, provided more material, and the cover sheets contained hand-written notes saying things like “enjoyed talking with you,” “anything we can do to help,” and “sounds like a great project, love to be a part of it.”
The only personal note to him was a message from Susan Weston, who asked if he wanted to have dinner the next time he was in Olympia.
“Olympia?” Libby asked, looking over his shoulder at the boldly scrawled invitation. “It’s a beautiful city, but I thought the idea was to look for places in small towns, especially towns needing revitalization.”
“It is.” Neil crumpled the sheet and tossed it on the floor, unaccountably embarrassed. He hadn’t encouraged Sue to flirt. He’d dealt with her before on land deals in the south Puget sound area, so had naturally called her to see if she had any likely listings for a bed-and-breakfast inn. “Susan has a big agency. She lists property from Lacey to Aberdeen.”
“Oh. Personal friend?”
“No.” The denial came out more sharply than he’d intend. “We’ve done business before, that’s all.”
Libby squirmed on the soft leather cushions, trying to sit up straight, and her leg brushed his thigh.
Damn. He should never have thought about her curves, her perfume, or anything else so personal. They worked together, for pity’s sake. She was his vice president. And if she was the reason he was so fierce about not dating someone in the company, then so what?
They’d had one date, eleven years ago. A date that ended with him taking a cold shower.
“Er…Libby,” Neil murmured, hoping she’d sit still and quit turning him on. Hell, he was in charge here.
“What?”
“About this morning—I meant you were attractive. Not that I was interested in starting something.”
“I see.” Her eyes darkened stormily. “Well, let me be clear. I’m not interested in starting something, either.”
Great.
They were both on the same page.
Of course, he’d ticked her off again, but hadn’t he decided a little conflict would be good for business?
Libby squirmed again, only this time she got to her feet. She tugged at her skirt that had ridden up and made an obvious attempt to compose herself.
“I’ll do some Internet research on these listings,” she said, color flags high in her cheeks. “Then I’ll prepare a preliminary report and you can decide which sites you’re going to visit next week.”
“The sites we’re going to visit,” Neil reminded. “We’re supposed to do this together so we can build teamwork. So we’ll drive ourselves rather than take a chauffeur,” he said, deciding it would be a good idea to have one of them occupied with driving. Besides, he didn’t care for limousines, no matter how convenient.
“Fine. I’ll e-mail the report to you later,” Libby said, and hurried out.
His private phone rang and he hauled himself off the couch to answer it.
“How is your first day as president going?” asked Kane.
Neil thought about Libby’s flashing eyes and the angry color in her cheeks, and decided he shouldn’t mention either one. “It’s great.”
“Good. You remember the party is tonight, right?” Their twin nieces’ fourth birthday party was that evening, and they both planned to leave work early.
“Yup. I’m coming.”
“Don’t forget you’re supposed to bring the ice cream.”
“Yeah. Strawberry, or something.” Neil deliberately sounded vague.
Kane’s sigh was exasperated, even over the phone line. “No. Chocolate for Peggy, and vanilla for Amy. Stop by the grocery store on the way. And get lots, you know how they love ice cream.”
Neil grinned. After their father’s death, Kane had done his best to fill his shoes, quitting college and managing to make a fortune at the same time he was supporting the family. He enjoyed playing big-brother-turned-father-figure so much, they still indulged him every now and then. Of course, he’d probably have his fill of being “daddy” once his wife gave birth to their first baby and he experienced 2:00 a.m. feedings for himself.
“That’s right. Thanks for the reminder.”
Neil chuckled as he replaced the receiver. He’d enjoyed running O’Rourke Enterprises when Kane was courting and on his honeymoon, but he hadn’t expected it to last. Having Kane decide to establish new internal corporate divisions was a boon.
Now with Libby as his vice president…he rubbed the side of his jaw. It was going to be interesting. She had some intriguing qualities he hadn’t expected, though whether they would help or hinder him, he didn’t know.
The phone rang again and he picked it up, still deep in thought. “O’Rourke, here.”
“That sounds so cold, darlin’.”
It was his mother.
“Are you calling to remind me about the ice cream? Kane already took care of that.”
“Actually I heard about Libby’s promotion, and thought you might bring her to the party. I haven’t seen the dear child since Kane and Beth’s wedding—you know Dylan is coming, and they got on so well at the reception.”
Neil groaned. His mom liked Libby Dumont, and she liked the idea of Libby becoming a daughter-in-law even more. She’d worked on him for a while, but when it became obvious that he and Libby were grossly incompatible, she’d decided his younger brother, Dylan, was a possibility.
He had news…Dylan had no more interest in finding a bride than he did.
“Mom, don’t you think trying to match Dylan with someone else might upset Katrina?”
“Dylan can’t see Kate, either, though she’s been standin’ right in front of him for years.” Pegeen sounded quite put out, because Katrina Douglas was another name on her daughter-in-law wish list. “But invite Libby just the same.”
“All right.” There wasn’t any point in arguing, when his mother made up her mind she could teach stubborn to a mule. “I’ll see you later.”
Neil dropped his head back onto his chair. He’d started the day with a great promotion, then he’d learned his vice president would be Libby Dumont. In just a few hours they’d already had several disagreements, and he’d been painfully reminded that she was still as attractive as ever.
Beautiful, really.
In a fresh-scrubbed sort of way.
And his delightful, very Irish mother was determined to get Libby married to one of her sons, come hell or high water.
Man, was he in trouble.
At four o’clock a new message alert flashed on Neil’s computer. He opened the e-mail and found Libby’s preliminary report,
listing various properties, their historical significance and other pertinent material.
Neil quickly printed the document and hurried out. He walked into Libby’s office, and his nerves went on alert. It wasn’t that she dressed provocatively. Her trim, dark blue suit accentuated the slender lines of her body without drawing attention to her curves. Problem was, he knew all about her curves and how good they felt beneath his fingers—so good he’d never forgotten it.
She was standing next to her desk, explaining something to a tall, gangly young man who looked familiar for some reason.
“Mr. O’Rourke,” the young man exclaimed when he saw Neil. He threw out a nervous hand and knocked over a cup of coffee.
Oh, jeez.
Neil remembered him now. Duncan “Dunk” Anderson. Every time he’d ever seen Dunk he’d managed to spill, break, spindle or mutilate something.
Libby grabbed a handful of tissue and began sopping up the mess. She shot a dire glance in Neil’s direction, which seemed patently unfair since it was Dunk who’d spilled the coffee.
“I’m so sorry, Libby. I can’t believe I did that.”
“It’s all right, Duncan,” she said calmly. “Why don’t you take that material over to Kane? I’ll finish up here.”
“Sure thing.” With another sideways glance at Neil, Dunk scooped a file from a nearby credenza and bolted for the door.
“Please tell me he’s only here because there’s a flu epidemic and everyone else is desperately ill,” Neil muttered.
“Duncan is highly qualified.”
“For what? The demolition derby? Oh, God, Dunk is Kane’s new executive assistant, isn’t he?”
Libby rolled her eyes. “Yes, he is. I recommended him and Kane agreed.”
Neil groaned. “Couldn’t you have chosen someone better…like Typhoid Mary? Honestly, your employee recommendations could use some help.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Except Libby did know, because a few weeks ago she had hand-picked the employee to replace Neil’s latest in a long string of secretaries. She’d had a lot of fun, too, watching him squirm over her selection. Not that it lasted, he’d quickly moved Margie Clarke into the position, instead.
“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about,” he snapped.
“Not really. Tami Berkut is intelligent, excellent on the computer, and does great phone. She’s highly qualified and very…willing. Eager to please in every way.”
Neil winced at the subtle dig in Libby’s voice. Tami Berkut—also known as Tam Tam the Barracuda—had a fondness for tight red sweaters that showed off her spectacular breasts, and an itch to sleep her way through the executive washroom. But she wasn’t a bad employee, so he’d had her reassigned to a fifty-something executive who was devoted to his mother and thoroughly disinterested in red sweaters.
“Anyway, Kane likes Duncan, and he did a great job when I was on vacation a couple years ago. Besides, he’s only nervous around you, not anyone else. I think it has something to do with that cool, superior stare of yours.”
“I don’t have a superior stare.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“I don’t.” Neil insisted, a little offended. First she’d implied he was a snob, now he was cool and superior.
He didn’t think he was better than anyone else. Okay, he should admit preferring more office ceremony than Kane. But Kane could afford to be relaxed—he owned the company, which was a far cry from being the boss’s brother who had to prove he’d earned each and every promotion and wasn’t just being given a free ride out of nepotism.
“Anyway, you make Duncan nervous,” Libby said. “He’s very nice, and quite competent as long as you aren’t around.”
“Kane needs someone who’s competent no matter what.”
She waved her hand, unperturbed. “Duncan will be. I’m going to tell him something outrageous that will make him smile, instead of spill or break something when he sees you.”
Neil’s self-protective instincts went on full alert. “You don’t know anything outrageous about me.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”
He was sure.
Well, pretty sure.
Kane wouldn’t have told Libby about his occasional boyhood exploits, or about the time he’d gone skinny-dipping with a cheerleader in the Puget Sound. Skinny-dipping during a Washington winter wasn’t the brightest thing, but neither were teenage jocks. And he couldn’t think of anything else she might have heard about in the last eleven years that would qualify as outrageous.
“You don’t have anything to tell Dunk about me, unless you make something up,” he said severely.
“What a great idea. Thanks. I’ll think of something really good.”
“Don’t you dare,” he warned.
“Why not? It was your idea.”
His idea?
Right. As if Libby hadn’t already thought of inventing some extravagant, ridiculous tale to entertain Dunk Anderson. Nothing licentious, of course, just embarrassing as hell.
“I don’t know what Dunk is doing with the company, anyway,” Neil said, trying to change the subject. “Didn’t I hear he has a stockbroker’s license?”
She dumped handfuls of coffee-soaked tissue into the waste can. “Yes, but he didn’t like it. I think you’re prejudiced because he’s a man, and you think secretaries and assistants should be dutiful, coffee-fetching women, while men should be the power-brokers who run the universe.”
“That isn’t true. And didn’t we have this discussion a few hours ago? I don’t have hang-ups about women in business.”
She just lifted an eyebrow.
Neil opened his mouth, then closed it again. He might as well forget it. After countless debates with his sisters, he knew women understood a certain logic, men understood another, and there was no meeting in the middle. Particularly with a woman in Libby’s mood.
It was his own fault, both for the things he’d said earlier in the day, and for asking her out all those years ago. Some mistakes haunted you forever.
Of course, no one had ever tempted him like Libby Dumont. New on the job, Libby had been assigned to reorganize archived files in a basement of the company’s first building…a grim place everyone called the crypt. He’d gotten frustrated waiting for data on an old merger and gone down to get the file himself.
Then he’d seen Libby.
She was reaching up, pushing a teetering box back on a high shelf. Her sweater had pulled tight, defining her body and instantly setting him on fire. She’d glanced in his direction, lost her battle with the box, and was showered with dusty files. Instead of getting angry or embarrassed, she just laughed, her green eyes sparkling like jewels and her long hair falling down her back in a silken torrent of brown and gold and red.
God, he’d loved that laugh.
Unselfconscious, charming, convincing him she was a whole lot more experienced than was really the case.
Neil hesitated, then ran a finger into his collar and tugged on his tie. “By the way, my mother called and suggested I bring you to my nieces’ birthday party.”
Libby’s mouth dropped open.
A children’s party?
Wasn’t that too prosaic and normal for Neil? Over the years she’d heard Kane talk endlessly about the family; he was devoted to them. Neil seemed fond of his siblings, too, but she’d never imagined him attending a birthday celebration for two four-year-old girls.
“Thanks, but I’ve got work to do.” She would have enjoyed the party and visiting with the rest of the O’Rourke family, but going anywhere with Neil wasn’t the best idea—even though she wanted to kick him for looking so relieved at her refusal.
“I’m sure you’ve already put in enough hours.”
“Actually, I have…plans. For the evening.” It wasn’t a lie. She did have plans—laundry, vacuuming, and dosing the cat for fleas. Lately it felt like too much effort going on dates that never seemed to lead anywhere.
“All right. By the
way, thanks for the report,” he said, holding up a sheaf of papers. “I’ll go over it this weekend, then we’ll talk again Monday.”
It wasn’t until after he’d left that Libby let out the breath she’d been holding.
She could always ask Kane to forget her promotion. He might even be relieved he didn’t have to find a new administrative officer. She’d only had the position for a short while, so it wasn’t like she was bored with her work or anything.
No.
Her chin lifted stubbornly.
She wouldn’t let Neil O’Rourke have the satisfaction of thinking he’d driven her away. And she’d make a darned good vice president, no matter what he might think.
Chapter Three
Neil sat back on the sofa in his mother’s living room and listened to the high-pitched squeals of his nieces as they unwrapped their birthday presents.
Damn, they were cute.
They’d also be spoiled right down to their fingertips if his little sister didn’t have so much sense when it came to raising her babies—as his mother’s only grandchildren, they were the recipients of all her grandmotherly attention.
Well, they were the only grandchildren until Kane and Beth’s baby arrived.
His oldest brother stood in the arched entry of the living room, his arm wrapped possessively around his wife’s waist. Occasionally he’d stroke the small swell of her stomach and Beth would look up with a soft warmth in her eyes that excluded everyone else on the planet.
Maddie and Patrick, the latest newlyweds in the family, weren’t much better, though at the moment Maddie was on her knees next to the birthday girls, laughing as they decorated her hair and shoulders with bright ribbons. Little Peggy and Amy seemed to be having more fun playing with their new aunt than opening packages, but nobody minded.
“At least two of my sons have given me grand daughters-in-law,” his mother said, sinking down on the sofa beside him, her Irish brogue stronger than usual. She’d come from Ireland as a young wife and had never lost her native accent. “Beth and Maddie are fine women.”
The Bachelor Boss (O'Rourke Family 3) Page 3
