BAD BOYS ON BOARD

by Lori Foster, Donna Kauffman, Nancy Warren

  Someone cleared her throat from the doorway. As there were only two people presently occupying Crystal City, Virginia's newest office building, the twenty-five story S. E. Weaver building, Callie knew it was her boss, Stephanie Weaver. She hung up and straightened in her chair. "Yes, Ms. Weaver?"

  Stephanie was a walking billboard for how to be a business mogul by your fortieth birthday. She was beautiful, smart, wealthy, and about to push the latest company she'd founded into the upper echelons of the Fortune 500 list. And office temp Callie Montgomery, currently Stephanie's executive assistant, secretary, receptionist, coffee maker, and all around office slave, planned to be right beside her when she did it.

  "Well done," Stephanie said, nodding to the phone.

  Callie swallowed hard. It was much easier to play power junkie when her boss wasn't around. Not that she played fast and loose with the responsibilities Stephanie had laid on her since the temp agency had sent her here six weeks ago, anything but. But she did have to admit that after Peter left her for Jennifer, their twenty-two-year old bimbette dog sitter, with legs up to here, boobs out to there, and a brain—well, Peter probably didn't care much about that miniscule body part … as long as the clothing covering the aforementioned body parts were equally miniscule—but since he left and took a good deal of her self-confidence with him, wielding power of any sort had been a real confidence boost.

  Since there was no one around who much cared about her body parts, scantily clad or otherwise, playing mogul—even if it was just grand poobah of office supplies—was the only thrill she got these days.

  Callie gave her an honest smile. "I'm learning from the best."

  Stephanie smiled back. "You bet you are."

  Callie figured Stephanie Weaver had exited the womb with her confidence already fully developed, and it had probably never wavered once since. She, on the other hand, was not superhuman. For a while after the divorce, she was lucky to feel even subhuman.

  "Listen, I know we've been pushing the limit here lately," Stephanie went on to say. "And I probably haven't said this, but I do appreciate your dedication."

  Callie could have told her she was thankful for the distraction. Since the divorce papers had been signed, sealed and delivered ten months ago—actually, since she'd walked out six months before that—she'd done little but think about Peter and her previous job failure. Who knew being a wife could be such a brutal occupation? Whatever visions she'd had about being a dedicated partner, about having a family, a future, had died the minute she'd hit that dining room door. Not that things had been progressing all that well up to that point.

  So, while eighteen-hour days spent setting up the Weaver empire had left her eyes crossed and her fingers numb, and cancelled whatever little social life she had managed to resurrect, it had also left her with precious little time to think about the past sixteen months … and the three long years that had preceded them. For that alone she could have kissed Stephanie. "I don't mind hard work."

  "I can't promise things will lighten up anytime soon, but if you don't bail on me, it'll be worth your while in the long haul."

  Callie grinned, even as her stomach did a nervous little flip. This was exactly what she'd been hoping for when she'd signed on with AAA Temps, wasn't it? A ground-floor position somewhere that could lead to something permanent, with potential for upward mobility. She was a decent typist, could file adequately, was competent on the phone, juggled appointment books with aplomb, and made a killer pot of coffee. Individually not the most amazing of talents, but combined, she knew she would be indispensable to the right person. After all, hadn't Peter first hired her to be secretary at his legal firm for the very same reasons? If only I'd stopped at arranging his file drawers instead of his sock drawer.

  "I'm thankful for the opportunity," Callie told her.

  "I need to go over tomorrow's list with you," Stephanie said, "but first I've got a last-minute meeting, and it might run a bit long. I hope you don't mind staying a bit later than usual."

  Considering it was already after five, and that Callie was usually still at her desk until at least nine every night as it was, that was no small request. But she was in no hurry to go home to her tiny Alexandria rowhouse and nuke another Lean Cuisine, although the frozen Hostess cupcake she treated herself to afterward was calling her name right about now. So, she'd have two of them instead. It was the only decadent pleasure in her life these days anyway. And if she put on an extra pound or two, who was going to care? "No, that's no problem," she said, "I don't mind." It should have made her feel pathetic, that she really didn't mind spending her life behind her desk. But she readily admitted that, right now in her life, being needed was exactly what the doctor ordered. So what if it was business? She hadn't done all that well in the personal department. Maybe professional success was where she was meant to make her mark. After all, look at Stephanie. She had no life outside the job and she was single, happy, rich. Sexy, powerful, confident. Okay, so her boss had a few tools Callie lacked. She'd simply start with the single and dedicated part and work her way up from there.

  "Do you want me to order in dinner?" Callie asked.

  "Please. Have it delivered at six. Noor's will be fine. The usual for me. Order the curry, too. I'm pretty sure hot and spicy is his—" Stephanie was interrupted when the door to the office swung open.

  And in walked Dominic Colbourne. The British version of Stephanie Weaver. Only Stephanie didn't make Callie's body temperature spike and the soles of her feet sweat. Dominic Colbourne did. At least the magazine articles she'd read about him had. She'd never seen him in person. Amazingly, he was even better looking in real life. The Panther, they'd called him. Because of the silent, stealthy way he'd climbed the corporate mogul ladder. One after the other, in fact.

  Seeing him in person, she thought that moniker might have been earned for an entirely different reason. He was all dark, smoldering good looks, with the rangy kind of physique that made women of all ages drool. Oh, he gave off a predatory vibe all right.

  He barely spared her a look before murmuring something to Stephanie about being regrettably detained, his accent as delectable as the rest of him, then quietly disappeared into Stephanie's private conference room.

  An hour passed. Dinner was delivered and consumed separately. The two of them in Stephanie's boardroom, she alone at her desk, privately fantasizing about just what was going on behind that closed door. Figures, she thought. Not only did Stephanie have the looks and the figure, and more money and power than Midas … now she got to have Dominic Colbourne, too. Probably right on the conference table. God only knows what uses they'd found for that curry. Hot and spicy indeed.

  Another hour passed. Then another. Cassie finished the filing, faxing, and typing. Recorded all the deliveries, meetings, and various and sundry other details on her appointment book, the Palm Pilot Stephanie had assigned her five minutes after she was hired, and Stephanie's personal appointment scheduler on the computer.

  She might have paused to listen on occasion … okay, strained to hear something, anything, even a hushed murmur, or an orgasm or two, behind the closed conference room door. But had only been rewarded with total silence. "If I have to put in all these extra hours, plus torture myself with images of Dominic Colbourne naked and doing God knows what on the conference room table, the least they can do is give me a good 'Oh baby, yes, yes, yes!' every once in a while," Callie grumbled.

  She supposed screaming orgasms weren't exactly Stephanie's style. And she couldn't imagine anything more than a dark, glittering smile of satisfaction on Dominic's unearthly, gorgeous face. She sighed as she dumped the coffee filter and rinsed out the glass pot. Maybe she should stop by a bookstore and pick up a hot romance or something. If she was going to live vicariously through the orgasms of others, at least that way she'd be guaranteed some satisfaction.

  Another hour passed and she'd finished sharpening every pencil in the office, wiped down her computer screen and even cleaned the lunch cru
mbs from her keyboard. Still not a peep from the conference room. Carnal or otherwise. She debated on whether or not to simply head home. It would likely be a bit awkward for them to come stumbling out of the conference room, all flushed with postcoital glow, only to find her perched behind her desk, waiting.

  But Stephanie always demanded they do a wrap up, discuss what was on the slate for the next day, go over whatever problems needed handling, and so on. The last thing Callie wanted was to be summoned back when she was halfway home. But tomorrow she was definitely bringing the Hostess cupcakes to work with her.

  It was after eleven o'clock when Stephanie suddenly emerged—not from the boardroom, but from her own offices, which had their own access to the boardroom. And a wide leather couch. Her boss looked fatigued, but was smiling.

  I should be so lucky, Callie thought with a sigh. She glanced behind her boss, but the office door closed again, leaving Dominic sequestered within. Probably washing up in Stephanie's private bathroom. Which only spurred mental images of Dominic naked, water sluicing over his hard body, soaping up his—

  "I'm sorry to keep you penned up out here for so long," Stephanie said, interrupting her visual interlude. "But I'm glad you stayed. I need another favor."

  Callie sort of regretted letting go of the mental montage. It had been the highlight of her day. "You do?" she asked, forcing her thoughts back to her boss.

  "I have to run out of here for another meeting."

  "At eleven o'clock?" Callie said, the words popping out before she could think better of it. "I'm sorry, that's none of my—"

  "No, that's okay. It's cocktails with an investor who just flew in from the west coast. It's the only time I can spare." She smiled, albeit a bit tiredly. "Success doesn't work nine to five. Never say no when opportunity knocks."

  Callie definitely seconded that emotion. "What do you need me to do?"

  "Stay here until Dominic is done with his call to Hong Kong. He's been on for a while. I'm not sure how much longer it will be."

  Stay here. With Dominic Colbourne. Alone. Gee, what a hardship.

  Not that he'd notice her any more than he had when he walked in. But even if it was only a silent elevator ride down to the lobby, she'd take it. When you put in eighteen-hour days, you had to take your thrills where you could find them. Hostess cupcakes and Dominic fantasies. She could do worse.

  "If you're worried about being alone in the building with him," Stephanie said, apparently misreading her pause in responding, "don't be. Trust me, Dominic is only interested in making his next million. Women are too easy to conquer apparently." Then she shocked Callie by winking at her. "I know, I tried. Nothing. Zip."

  Callie blinked. As much in shock that her boss had shared something so personal, as in the fact that even the glamorous, powerful Stephanie Weaver could get rejected by a man.

  Stephanie dangled a set of keys. "These lock up the front door and activate my personal elevator. The main ones shut down when the security guy heads home at midnight." She glanced at her watch. "You might not need to use it, but just in case."

  Callie took the keys. "Do you want me to lock up your offices, too?" Stephanie's private elevator was only accessible through her office.

  "Please. I really appreciate this. I don't know what's holding things up. He took the call thinking it would be a fast one and he's been in there for almost an hour. Probably buying and selling a small country." She laughed. "And I thought I was driven."

  "You're no slouch," Callie said, then grimaced when she realized she'd spoken aloud. She really needed some sleep.

  Stephanie's eyes widened momentarily; then she laughed again. "You're right." She scooped up a stack of folders from Callie's desk and shoved them into her leather bag. "Oh, and put us down for lunch tomorrow at Basil. We never got to finish our meeting." She was backing out the door when she paused one last time. "You should speak your mind more often. It suits you."

  Peter hadn't thought so. Screw Peter, she thought smugly. Better yet, let Jennifer screw Peter. A mindless bimbette is obviously all he can handle. She straightened, smiled. "Thanks. I will."

  "In fact, if you promise not to ever bullshit me, I'm making an executive decision right here and now. I'd like to retain you on a permanent basis as my personal assistant."

  Callie opened her mouth, then closed it again and tamped down the urge to pump her fists in the air. "Thank you. I accept." Her toes did tap out a little victory dance beneath her desk, however.

  "We can discuss salary after I get done meeting with Dominic." Stephanie's eyes gleamed. "Then you can start hiring your own staff. And mine, too. If everything goes as planned during lunch tomorrow, four weeks from today, the S. E. Weaver building will officially open for business. And we've got a lot of work to do. Get some sleep. Be here at seven tomorrow."

  Callie stared at the closed office door for a full five minutes, not moving, as Stephanie's words sunk in. Personal assistant. Permanent salary. Hiring staff. Her own staff. Four weeks to get a twenty-five story building stocked, staffed, up and running. She didn't know whether to jump up and down … or throw up. She wanted to do both. But as soon as the latter feeling subsided, she was eating that whole damn box of Hostess cupcakes.

  She pulled out a yellow legal pad and began making notes, writing so fast her tired brain and cramped hand finally couldn't keep up the pace and she reluctantly forced herself to stop.

  Sleep, that was what she needed. A full night of it. Then she could begin taking steps toward total global dominance. She grinned. Or, at least her small corner of it anyway.

  From subhuman to superhuman in sixteen months, three weeks and—she glanced at her watch and groaned. It was straight up midnight. And she had to be back here in seven hours. So much for feeling like Cinderella on a power trip. She stood up and stretched the kinks out of her back, then walked over to the windows to shut the blinds, but found herself staring down at the lights below. Personal assistant to Stephanie Weaver. A vibrant little hum of energy started buzzing through her despite the late hour. And she ignored the smaller, but just as profound twinge of regret. So, she wasn't going to do the wife and mom thing as she'd always dreamed. She'd just have to be satisfied with being Callie "Mogul" Montgomery instead, she thought, her lips twitching to a grin.

  "Starting on the ground floor, ha!" she murmured, looking across the Potomac, beyond the Kennedy Center, to the lighted monuments on the mall and around the tidal basin. For once I'm starting out on top. "And this time I'm staying there." She punched her fists in the air, just as the door behind her opened.

  "I beg your pardon."

  Callie spun around, yanking her arms down and folding them instinctively across her chest. Dear God, how could she have forgotten all about Dominic Colbourne? "I—I'm sorry. I was just … stretching." She unfolded her arms, feeling quite self-conscious as he continued to stare at her. His thoughts were probably still a million miles away in Hong Kong, but at that moment, it sure felt like they were focused right on her.

  She pasted on a smile … and hoped like hell he couldn't tell her nipples had gotten hard. Stephanie probably hadn't been kidding when she'd said he found women too easy to conquer. Lord knows her body was all ready to wave the white flag … and he'd only glanced at her.

  "Do you need me to call you a car?"

  "No, I'm staying close by. I could use the walk."

  She tried not to look surprised. Dominic Colbourne didn't strike her as the type of guy who took midnight strolls. "Fine then," she said. "I'll escort you to the lobby if you're ready to go."

  He nodded. "Lead the way."

  His voice was deep, a bit rough. Was it simply fatigue? Or did it always sound like sandpaper on velvet? Don't think about that or your nipples will stay hard for a week. Shielding that part of her anatomy from view—not that he was noticing—she flipped the blinds closed, snagged her purse and keys from the desk, did a quick run through with the locks to the hallway door, then turned and gestured to Stephanie's office. "We
'll have to take her private elevator. The others are shut down for the night."

  He merely nodded, then stood waiting to follow her. She held the door to Stephanie's office open for him, then tried not to swoon when he brushed past her. He smelled like aftershave, freshly laundered cotton … and cumin. It packed quite a wallop at the end of an eighteen-hour day. Better than a cream-filled cupcake.

  She locked the door behind him, allowing herself one brief glance at the leather couch, untouched, but so … available, then sighed a little as she walked over to the walnut-paneled door that led to the elevator. Maybe she'd skip the cupcake and the all-night bookstore and find fresh batteries for her vibrator instead. Of course, after tonight she'd probably never be able to look at that couch without blushing. She glanced at Dominic, thought of the fantasies she could easily come up with … and come to … and decided it would be worth it.

  Using the key Stephanie had given her, she opened the elevator door. It was a small car, big enough for about six people if they stood very straight. Since it was usually just Stephanie, she supposed this was one time when size really didn't matter.

  Except now it was her, alone with Dominic. And suddenly the elevator felt quite … intimate.

  He stepped in after her, his expression more distant now. Probably wondering what to do with the country he just bought. And not how to ravish Stephanie's executive assistant in twenty-five floors or less. Darn it. She pushed the button for the lobby. He could have done it in less than five, most likely. Ten tops.

  The door silently slid shut, making Dominic's presence even more overwhelming. She spent the next five floors wondering what he'd do if she suddenly ripped her clothes off and begged him to take her. She had to fight the urge to snicker. That would give the phrase "going down?" a whole new meaning, wouldn't it?