by Jill Shalvis
Humiliating as it would be to disclose her predicament, she had to know. “Deal.”
His light blue eyes penetrated hers. “I can’t fire you. I promised your father I’d give you a job. It’s in the will.”
The waitress brought their food, and Joe dug in.
Caitlin stared at him helplessly. “I don’t understand. The will doesn’t say ‘for as long as I want it.’ All it says is that you’ll hire me.”
“So much for not taking this personally.” He sighed and set down his fork. “Yes, but I promised him.”
“When?”
“Before he died. He’d been having health problems.”
He’d never told her. She’d never asked. Guilt stabbed at her.
“It seemed to mean a lot to him that you have this job, so I went along with it.”
She managed to speak evenly. “You don’t strike me as a man who’d go along with anything that didn’t suit your purposes, Joe.”
“Since that’s pretty much true, I suppose there’s no use in being insulted.” But his jaw was tight as he lifted his glass to his lips. “Let’s just call it the repaying of a debt, and in this case, despite any trouble you might cause, I could hire you for the rest of your life and not make a dent in what I owe him.”
The image of her father came to mind—powerful, busy, always gone. Much as he’d given her in material things, he’d rarely had time for anything else. It was hard to imagine him inspiring this kind of fierce loyalty. “What is this great thing he did for you?”
“He rescued me.” When she just stared at him in surprise, he said, “Twenty years ago, he took a twelve-year-old know-it-all street kid out of an alley where he was about to be killed by a gang-banger for hustling him.”
“Were you the twelve-year-old or the gang-banger?”
He grinned, his first, and it was a stunner. “The former.”
But Caitlin didn’t see the humor. She was horrified, picturing a poor, thin, starving kid fighting off a dangerous thug—no matter she’d thought of Joe as a thug himself earlier that day. “Where were your parents?”
He shrugged broad shoulders. “I never knew my father, and there were six kids. My mother couldn’t feed us all. I’d been pretty much on my own for a couple of years.”
“Oh, Joe. I’m sorry.”
“I turned out all right,” he said, lowering his head and shoveling in more food. He smiled suddenly, and the charm of it surprised her. She kept forgetting how good-looking he was, behind all that attitude. “Edmund cleaned me up and hauled me off to a Laker game.”
Her jaw dropped. To her knowledge, her father had been too busy for sports. He’d certainly never taken her to a game. “He did?”
“Yeah.” He smiled at the memory. “They won, too. Then he dumped me in a tough school designed for... troubled kids.”
“And for really smart ones, too, I’ll bet.”
Joseph’s head jerked up, his eyes hot and defensive. “Yeah,” he said finally, as though it was a hard thing to admit.
Now it made sense, all too well. She knew how attractive a homeless, orphaned, incredibly brilliant boy would have been to her father. Especially when all he’d gotten was a weak, not so smart female. Resentment hit, only to be beaten back by shame.
What would have happened to Joe if her father hadn’t intervened?
“He came for me every weekend, which at first really ticked me off,” Joe admitted. “But he stuck with me until the end.” He met her gaze unwaveringly. “He saved my life, princess. I owe him everything, and in return, I’d do anything for him.”
Including putting up with a secretary he didn’t want. Suddenly feeling a little sick and unbearably lonely even in the middle of a crowded restaurant, Caitlin set down her fork and tried to ignore the tightness in her chest. How pathetic her poor-little-rich-girl story would seem to him. “What happened to your mother?”
He chugged down his water and attacked the basket of bread sticks. “She lives in Vegas. Waitresses occasionally.”
“And the others? Your brothers and sisters?”
His blue eyes became shuttered, and she imagined he masked pain and loneliness. “Scattered around.” His gaze dropped to the bread he held, which he then polished off in one bite.
She learned far more about Joe by watching his eyes than listening to his words. His eyes were much more expressive than he could possibly know. “Do you ever see them?”
“They’re all busy with their own lives. My mother calls me once in a while.”
Caitlin swallowed hard, hurting for the boy who’d grown up too fast. Who’d learned to count only on himself. “You support her, don’t you?”
He stirred, clearly uncomfortable. “Maybe.”
“Why is it so hard to admit you help her?”
“Why is it so hard for you to understand that most people don’t like their lives to be an open book?”
She was beginning to realize the man was all bark, no bite. He liked his distance. Too bad she didn’t do the distance thing so well.
Joe fell silent as he continued to feed himself with obvious relish, making Caitlin wonder where he put all the food. He certainly didn’t have a spare ounce of fat on him. She glanced up, and caught the curious gazes of Vince, Tim and Andy from across the room. The twins grinned at her. Vince’s smile was more subdued, worried.
Sweet, she thought. And chicken. She stuck her tongue out at them, and they laughed.
Joe polished off his plate and glanced at hers. “Are you going to finish?”
If she drew a deep breath, she’d pop the button on her tight skirt. “No.” He continued to gaze longingly at the lasagna left on her plate. Laughing, she pushed it toward him, then watched in amazement as he finished it off.
“To be honest,” Joe told her when he’d finally filled himself. “I never thought you’d actually take the job.”
Here it comes, she thought. His scorn. And after learning about him and his past, she knew she deserved every bit of it. She took a deep breath. “I need this job.”
“Right.”
“It’s true. I’m deeply in debt, and without the income, meager as it is, I’ll be homeless and on the streets just like you once were.”
He stared at her. “No way.”
“Yes way.” She played with her water glass. “Those assets you spoke of that first day, my car and my place, they haven’t been paid for. As you know, they’re far out of my league with what you’re paying me. I’m flat broke.”
“What about the will?”
“What about it? I got nothing.”
“Then why did Edmund stipulate such a low salary? He was the most generous man I know.”
She shrugged, even managed a light smile, but Joe wasn’t fooled. Pain blazed from her eyes.
“Maybe he just didn’t realize?” he suggested.
“Whether he realized or not doesn’t matter,” she said. “The sorry truth is, this job is all I have, and I desperately need it. I know you hate it, Joe, and to tell you the truth, so do I. There’s just not much choice in the matter at the moment.”
Dammit. Dammit all to hell. He didn’t want to feel this quick, inexplicable tug of concern, of protectiveness, shame because he’d gotten from Edmund what his own daughter hadn’t. “He didn’t mean to hurt you.” He could bank on that.
“You think so?” She lifted those huge, liquid eyes to his. “Even when I’m a spoiled princess? Always had the world at my fingertips? Isn’t that what you’ve thought all along?” She smiled humorlessly at his wince. “But you know what? All I really wanted was his time. How’s that for spoiled? He had you, though, and that was all he needed.”
Lunch lodged in his throat. “I gather you weren’t close.”
“Don’t pretend that you two didn’t talk about me. I know what he thought of my life-style.”
How to tell her that Edmund had rarely spoken of her at all, and only at the very end? Clearly, he didn’t have to tell her; she’d looked at his face and seen the t
ruth.
“I must seem double pathetic now.”
“No,” he said, leaning close, disturbed by that protectiveness he felt. “Caitlin...”
“Don’t apologize for him. It was my fault, too. I didn’t see him much because of our respective business schedules. And don’t,” she said quickly, raising a hand. “Don’t make some crack about poor little socialite me. If you’re thinking I had it pretty good, you’re right. I did. I never had to live on the streets, fighting for my life, and I certainly never went hungry or without clothes. But I also never had what I really wanted, which was someone to tell me they loved me.”
Joe hadn’t thought, hadn’t wondered... all those times he and Edmund spent together, he had never thought to ask about Edmund’s daughter, or where she was. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, well aware of the inadequacy of those words.
“Don’t be sorry for me.” She tucked a loose wave of hair behind her ear and gave him a look from beneath lowered lashes that he couldn’t quite read. “I’m just glad I still have a job.”
He looked at the woman who had cheerfully and without complaint thrown herself wholeheartedly into a job that had been forced on her. She’d genuinely tried hard, even when out of her element. She’d given it her all.
Damn. He pulled his thoughts up short. He’d done it again. Just one bright, open smile and he’d folded. One bat of those long lashes and he was willing to forget that he could hardly tolerate her. Purposefully, he hardened himself. “All I need you to do is answer the phones, Caitlin. Nothing else. Just the phones,” he said, leaning forward to make his point, grabbing her hand when she ignored him. He thought of how his office looked once she’d started to organize it. “Promise me.”
Her voice filled with wounded pride, she countered, “I can do more, far more, if you’d teach me.”
The waitress saved him from replying, and he was grateful. She tactfully set down their bill almost in the center of the table, but slightly closer to Joe.
He picked up the slip, reaching for his wallet and scanning the balance at the same time. “Eighteen-fifty,” he muttered to himself. “With a tip that’s—”
“Two dollars and seventy-eight cents,” Caitlin whispered politely, leaning forward discreetly. “But leave three-seventy instead.”
“What?”
“Twenty percent.” Caitlin was leaning close enough to daze him with that light, sexy scent she wore. “You should leave twenty percent since we got such great service.” She opened her purse and he put a hand over hers, halting her.
“Wait a minute.” He shook his head to clear it, then gazed back into guileless eyes the color of milk chocolate. “Are you telling me you can multiply in your head like that, instantly?”
Caitlin flashed him a self-conscious smile. “Uh...yes. I’m sorta good with numbers. Big ones.” She shrugged. “It’s a semiuseless talent.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Well, it does come in handy when I’m shopping in Mexico City and trying to figure out the exchange rate.”
Again he shook his head, counting out bills.
“Twenty-two dollars and twenty cents,” she said helpfully.
“Amazing,” he said, dropping the cash in the tray and handing it up to the waiting server.
Caitlin was staring solemnly at him.
“What now? You thinking about calculating the national debt?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never had to support myself before, Joseph. And I realize I’m spoiled. But that’s going to change.” She let out a little laugh. “It has to, actually. I don’t have any money.”
“Maybe a loan,” he said desperately. “They have them everywhere now. All the banks...”
“I want to work.”
“There are other jobs, other things you could do that would suit you better.”
“I’m not a quitter, Joe.” Determination and pure grit shimmered off her, and her voice was soft yet strong and even, completely without rancor. “I just need a little time to prove myself. And if you don’t have the inclination to give me the time I need, then I’m sure Andy and Tim and Vince will.”
She had that right, he thought as he glanced at the three cohorts, all staring across the room directly at Caitlin, stars sparkling in their eyes.
Caitlin scooted back from the table and rose with wounded dignity. Every male eye in the place was instantly on her. Every eye but Joe’s.
He was lost in thoughts of her determination and grit—two of his favorite qualities. He almost liked her, he realized with some surprise.
How many people could he say that about?
5
CAITLIN GOT UP the next morning and discovered two unpleasant things. One, if she wanted to eat again in the near future, she was going to have to ask Joe how often she got paid. Weekly, she hoped as she stared with dismay into her nearly empty refrigerator thinking that, given a sorry choice of expired cottage cheese or a mustard sandwich on stale bread, payday couldn’t be soon enough.
Two, and even more important, her car was gone. Missing. Vanished from the face of the earth.
Just the thought had her hyperventilating. Her BMW, her pride and joy, the one thing her father had given her that she knew he’d bought with her in mind... Well, he hadn’t actually paid for it outright, but up until his death, he’d given her the money for the lease and insurance.
She’d already called the police when it occurred to her that she might have missed a few payments.
It wasn’t her fault, really. She’d been so busy. First in Paris with a girlfriend for holiday shopping. Then in Mexico at another friend’s resort for Christmas. She’d come home in time for New Year’s Eve at the Comedy Club.
Then her father had died, and both her so-called friends and her money had disappeared.
Well, at least she hadn’t been kicked out of her condo yet. That was something, wasn’t it?
CAITLIN HAD NEVER in her life had to rely on public transportation. It was every bit the adventure she’d thought it would be and more. And so, of course, she was late.
She dashed through the foyer, waved to Amy, leaped on the elevator and stumbled into the office at ten o’clock to face a not-so-happy-looking Joe Brownley.
“How nice of you to grace us with your presence,” he said overly politely.
Usually, nothing flattened her faster than disapproval, but she wasn’t in the mood. Not today. She thought about telling him so, but stopped when she realized that, given how he’d grown up, he might not be exactly sympathetic to her losing the BMW she hadn’t paid for in the first place.
“I’m sorry I’m a little late—”
“A little?” He let out a short laugh and shook his head. “Princess, there are going to have to be rules in this...this...”
“Relationship?” she suggested sweetly, making him scowl even deeper.
“Office. This is not a relationship,” he said stiffly. “It’s a job. You come in at eight like the rest of us. In the morning,” he added with emphasis.
He wore black jeans today. And a black polo shirt, untucked as usual. It stretched tight across his broad shoulders and snugged his hard, lean chest. With his hands on his hips and that scowl on his handsome face, he looked like a modern-day pirate, capable of pillaging along with the best of them.
She definitely should not have stayed up late reading that fantastic lusty historical romance. The pirate hero had tossed the heroine over his shoulder and stalked with her into his private cabin, where he’d tossed the passionate but virginal redhead on his berth and—
“What is that?” her pirate demanded, pointing to her outfit.
Caitlin glanced down at herself, but saw nothing wrong with her canary-yellow captain’s jacket and matching short full skirt, or her equally yellow high-heeled pumps. She’d needed the extra height this morning to boost her lagging confidence and stomped-on spirits.
She would have preferred an expensive shopping trip to Italy, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
&nb
sp; Of course, no one had told her she’d have to walk nearly a mile—twice—to catch connecting buses.
Tomorrow, she was wearing her crosstrainers.
She’d only gotten on the wrong bus once. Okay, twice, but that second time hadn’t been her fault.
“What’s wrong with my clothes?” she asked.
“Everything!”
She looked again, just to make sure she’d buttoned all her buttons and didn’t have toilet paper stuck to her shoe, but everything was just fine. “What?”
His sigh exploded out of him as he turned away. “Nothing.”
“It’s something.”
He whipped around to face her, plowing his fingers through his hair. His raised arms, stretched, tightened, and made her mouth go dry because he was so...
“You said you’d wear...more,” he said at last.
She laughed. “No, I never said that. You did.”
He closed his eyes, a habit she’d noticed he fell back on when frustrated or furious, both seemingly constant elements of his charming personality. “I asked nicely,” he said, his voice strained.
“You most definitely did not.”
“Please,” he said after a moment. “Please, wear more. Lots more.”
“Is that a rule, too?”
His eyes flashed and she didn’t miss the quick humor they revealed. “If I said yes, would you follow it?”
She grinned back. “Probably not. I don’t do the authority thing too well.”
His gaze became serious. “This isn’t going to work.”
“It will if you stop bellowing.”
He went still. “I haven’t yelled at you.”
“You raised your voice when I dropped the lamp on your thingie.”
“Zip drive,” he said through his teeth. “It was a zip drive, princess. A very expensive one. And I didn’t yell—I nearly cried!”
“You’re doing it again.”
His shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I tend to talk loud when I get— Never mind. Christ! How the hell do you always get me so off track?”
