Who's the Boss?

by Jill Shalvis

“I care about you.”

  “But I’m a big girl,” she said gently. She reached for his hand and squeezed. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

  Everything about him was tense, even as he let out a little laugh. “I can’t seem to help that.”

  “Well, seeing as there’s little between me and your friend, except resentment and bad air, you don’t have much to worry about.”

  “What I saw between the two of you was a lot more than bad air, Caitlin.”

  The kiss again. Well, it had been quite a kiss. Quite a very good kiss. The mother of all kisses. But it had meant nothing to Joe, which was what Vince was trying so gallantly to make sure she understood.

  What she really understood was that Joe didn’t want it to mean anything. That he wasn’t comfortable with the intimacy, and she could understand that, as well. Neither was she.

  What, she wondered, would Joe say if he knew she’d never experienced any sort of intimacy at all? It wasn’t something she’d set out purposely to do, but she’d never found the right man. Somehow, it had been easy to resist the fast, rich, slick kind of guy her so-called friends had all hung out with. So now, despite her travels and exciting life-style, she was the oldest virgin in the Western Hemisphere. “I’m not going to get my heart broken over one kiss,” she said, more weakly than she would have liked.

  “I’m not doing a good job of warning you off him, am I?” Vince asked wryly.

  “It’s not your fault. I just never seem to learn what’s good for me.”

  “I could be good for you,” he said seriously.

  “Oh, Vince.”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that so soon.” Softly, he touched her cheek, then walked away.

  It didn’t take long to get distracted. She took a call from the mortgage company for the condo her father hadn’t left her. The by-the-book loan officer on the line was not impressed by her employment.

  “Look, Ms. Taylor,” he said in a voice bordering on nasty. “I do realize you have a job now, and apparently, you should be commended for that.”

  While Caitlin took his not so polite disdain, Joe walked by. He wore the customary faded jeans and T-shirt and was every bit as aloof and dangerously sexy as her dreams had assured her. With his heavily lidded eyes, that perpetual frown on his beautiful, scowling mouth and the rugged, muscled yet lean body, he looked every bit the hoodlum she imagined most mothers warned their daughters from.

  But Caitlin didn’t have a mother, and she doubted she would have listened to a mother’s advice, anyway.

  “Ms. Taylor,” the mortgage officer said in her ear, “you can’t expect this company to believe that you’ll be able to make the payments, given your current salary. Not to mention how far behind you are already. I’m sorry, but the lock-out will take place on Friday evening, unless you come up with something else.”

  Lock out.

  As in a huge padlock on her front door. She would have no place to go. “You’re going to put me out on the street because you don’t like my job?”

  Joe, already across the office and halfway out the door, froze. Mortified, Caitlin lowered her voice and her head. “You can’t do this,” she told the jerk on the line. “You can’t. My father—”

  “Is dead,” the man said bluntly. “And hasn’t provided any means for paying the mortgage. You have no experience, no credits to your name and no viable means of providing us what is due, Ms. Taylor. You can’t possibly blame us for this situation.”

  “What can I do to prove myself?” she asked, more than a little desperately. What had happened to her great life? To security? To a full stomach?

  “Marry a rich man,” he advised. “Quickly.”

  Floored, she hung up the phone and stared at it. She’d mistakenly thought her life was starting to be under control. But it wasn’t even close, she realized, and dropped her head down to her desk.

  What could she do?

  Hand still on the office door, Joe stared at Caitlin’s bowed head. Her full hair fell forward, exposing her pale, soft neck. She seemed small, vulnerable. Dammit, no. No, he told himself firmly.

  You aren’t going to worry about her.

  But he let go of the door. Of their own accord, his feet took him to her desk. Not his problem, absolutely not. Run, don’t walk, to the nearest exit. He perched a hip on the corner of her desk. This has nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with his promise to Edmund. He’d gone over and above the call of duty so far. Anyone would think so.

  Anyone.

  Instead of running, he heard himself say, “Caitlin? What’s the matter?”

  She jerked upright, flashed him a smile minus her usual megawattage and said with false cheer, “Nothing. Everything’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

  “You’re out of money.”

  “Nothing new.”

  “You’re going to lose your place.”

  Her shoulders sagged. Her smile faded, and in its place came a disturbing helplessness. “It’s not mine anyway.”

  So many emotions attacked him then, he couldn’t think straight enough to sort them out from each other. But leading the way was guilt—guilt because Edmund had taken care of him, a punk kid with no future, yet he’d ignored his own daughter.

  Despite how Joe felt about her, and how he didn’t want to feel about her, she didn’t deserve this. Anger bubbled. Anger at Edmund, anger for Caitlin and anger for himself at being left to deal with the mess.

  He was distinctly uncomfortable cleaning up the messes other people made of their lives. He’d done it for his mother. He’d done it for his siblings. He’d done it for countless “friends” over the years who’d assumed that because of what he did for a living, he had an overabundance of money.

  He didn’t want to do it anymore. “I can help.”

  “No.” Abruptly, Caitlin got up. “I need to walk,” she said, slipping off her high-heeled sandals, replacing them with running shoes. Joe watched, fascinated and mesmerized, as her dress gaped and revealed soft, full, plump breasts rebelling against their constraints.

  He was a jerk, he thought, staring down her dress when she was undergoing a crisis. He told himself this quite firmly. But he didn’t—couldn’t—stop looking.

  When she grabbed her purse, he stopped her, pulled her back. Their thighs touched, but it no longer startled him to feel that inexplicable heat in his body. “Caitlin.”

  “No,” she said quickly, trying to pull back. For once, her eyes didn’t give her away. “No pity, remember?”

  “I already told you,” he said, lying only a little. “You’re too prickly to feel sorry for.”

  “I’m prickly?” She laughed a little. “Right.”

  “Let me help,” he said rashly, having no idea why the words popped out. “I want to.”

  “Why?”

  Because already I can’t stop thinking about you, and if I have to be worried on top of being distracted all to hell, I’ll never get any peace. “Because you need it, dammit. Because your life is out of control, and you need help. I can supply that help. It’s that simple.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, and he could have sworn she was waiting for something, something more. Her lovely dark eyes searched his, but he was still befuddled by the view she’d just given him, and by touching her, and he didn’t know what else she could possibly want.

  Finally, she turned away, but not before he saw her expression fall a little. “Thanks, but you’ve helped me enough. More than enough. Be back after lunch.” She ran out the door.

  He watched her go, remorse and lust gnawing equally at his gut.

  CAITLIN FOUND HERSELF in the lobby, aimless.

  “Hey, there.”

  She mustered a smile for Amy, who leaned over her food stand with a friendly smile that faded quickly enough at the expression on Caitlin’s face.

  “Uh oh, you’ve got the face on.” Silently, Amy turned and grabbed a plate.

  “What face?”

  Amy
bustled a moment, then turned with a heaping serving of cinnamon crumb cake. “The kind that is crying out for food. Preferably junk food, the more fattening the better.”

  Caitlin had to laugh. “Yeah, it’s been that kinda day.”

  “Hmm, no kidding. Tell me.”

  “You tell me first,” Caitlin urged, needing to hear about someone and something other than herself and her own troubles.

  “Okay. My first customer of the day hits on me every morning despite the fact that I am madly in lust with the UPS guy. The UPS guy, who by the way is the most fab man on the planet, doesn’t know I exist. My supplies were late and so was my alimony check, which means I am now late making my rent.”

  Caitlin hummed her complete understanding and nodded, encouraging Amy to continue because suddenly her own problems didn’t seem so major.

  “And if I’m late on my rent, it goes on my credit, and if I get bad credit, I can’t buy a new car at the end of the year like I promised myself.” She shrugged. “That about sums it up for today,” Amy said. “Now you.”

  “Okay, my boss thinks I’m a helpless idiot. His best friend is falling for me and I don’t want to hurt him. And...I think I’m falling for my boss.”

  “The one that thinks you’re a helpless idiot.”

  “Yeah.” She could have complained about the condo and the car. Or about her serious and frightening lack of money, but strangely enough, that stuff didn’t matter as much.

  “I like being my own boss,” Amy said into their companionable silence. “And you couldn’t hurt anyone if you tried, Caitlin. You’re too kind.”

  “I— That’s a very generous thing to say.” Caitlin’s throat tightened at the look of utter sincerity on Amy’s face. “But you don’t really know me.”

  “I think I do.”

  Hot tea came next, and Caitlin found herself being pampered by nothing but the best crumb cake she’d ever sampled and an even better friendship.

  “You know,” she mumbled around a huge, heavenly biteful, “I’ve been everywhere in this world. I’ve eaten at the most amazing places.” She smiled at Amy’s curious face. “But nothing has tasted as good as this.”

  “Well, I haven’t been anywhere, other than Los Angeles, but that doesn’t really count ’cause it’s just in the next county over, you know?” Amy laughed completely unselfconsciously. “But I still know a good person when I meet one, Caitlin. Don’t let them get you down. Life’s too good, too short.”

  Caitlin stilled as the simple truth sunk in. “It is, isn’t it?”

  “You could get another job and drop all the problems in one shot.”

  Another truth, one that just a few days ago she would have thought an impossibility. But now she knew better. She knew she was smart enough to learn how to do whatever she wanted. “You know... you’re right.”

  And she thought about it for the rest of the day. Imagined herself in another job, being appreciated, rewarded. Cared about.

  Without Joe.

  The tightness in her chest deepened and became an ache.

  She was in bigger trouble than she ever imagined if the thought of being without Joe Brownley could so unsettle her.

  CAITLIN DRAGGED HER FEET as she carried CompuSoft’s bookkeeping to Darla’s office, but it had to be done. Joe had told her. She had explained it wasn’t necessary as she’d already reconciled his checkbook and had arranged his accounts receivables and payables.

  He’d laughed. “And I’m the Pope.”

  She’d been disgusted, then furious at his assumption that she’d been joking, but now all she felt was hurt.

  Amy’s suggestion bounced around in her head.

  Another job.

  The prospect didn’t seem quite so daunting anymore.

  She found Darla in her office, laughing over something Tim had said. The phone rang, distracting her, for which Caitlin was thankful. She needed a moment to collect herself.

  Tim smiled shyly as Darla dealt with her call, which went a long way toward boosting Caitlin’s spirits. “You look really pretty today, Caitlin.”

  “Thanks.” She forced a smile in return because Tim was probably the sweetest, most unassuming man she’d ever met. “Just tell Darla everything’s there.” And done. As she dropped the package on the desk, her gaze ran over a complicated spreadsheet opened there.

  Darla hung up the phone and nodded politely to Caitlin, her eyes filled with curiosity. “Thanks. How’s it going?”

  “Perfect.” But she was distracted. She pointed to the spreadsheet and spoke without thinking. “Did you know that this column is added up wrong? You’ve got the tens and hundreds column transposed.”

  Darla’s dark gaze widened, then narrowed. “So that’s why I didn’t balance— How in the world did you figure that out so fast?”

  “I just added them up.” Caitlin held her breath at the look of bewildered shock on the woman’s face. “Adding is a basic function you know. Even blondes can do it.”

  “This is more than just adding two plus two.” Stunned, Darla stared at Tim. “Did you know she could do that?”

  “No.” Tim looked at Caitlin, not as though she were a freak as she expected, but with affection. “Cool. You’re blond, beautiful and smart. Marry me?”

  Darla snorted and shoved him out of the way. She opened the package Caitlin had brought. Her surprise was clear as she spread out the papers, realizing most of the work was complete. “This isn’t Joseph’s messy scrawl.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  Darla looked up. “Is it right?”

  “You’ve seen me add.”

  Darla smiled slow and warm. “You know, nothing irritates me more than when someone sticks their nose in the air over the clinch cover on one of my favorite romance books. Do you know what I mean?”

  “That I shouldn’t make fun of your choice of reading material?”

  Darla grasped Caitlin’s hand, sent her a small, regretful smile. “I judged you by your cover, Caitlin. And I’m sorry for that. I hope you can forgive me.”

  There was no sign of the aloof woman Caitlin had first met on the elevator. Even that long, lean, perfect body of Darla’s suddenly seemed less intimidating. “I did the same,” Caitlin admitted, smiling in return. “Just forget it.”

  “I never forget a fellow number lover,” Darla vowed. “When you get tired of Mr. Gorgeous Grump, come here. I’ll hire you on the spot.”

  “I’m tired of Mr. Gorgeous Grump.”

  Darla laughed. “Well, then we’ve got a lot to talk about. You want to think about another job?”

  “I already have.”

  Darla nodded approvingly. “Then let’s do it.”

  THE PHONE RANG, and Joe automatically lifted the receiver, but his greeting died as Caitlin’s mortgage officer introduced himself.

  “You just missed Ms. Taylor,” Joe said coolly. “But I’m her...attorney. How much does she owe and where do I send it?”

  He took the information, silently calling himself every sort of fool. So he had this bizarre sense of protectiveness, so what?

  If you had to become a bleeding heart, you idiot, you could have gotten a puppy. It would have been far cheaper.

  Vince came in. “Where’s the Huntley contract?”

  “I had that one out last week. It should be...hell.” With dread, he looked down at the desk that was now Caitlin’s. It was cleared off. So was the floor, he realized with growing horror. “I had it here. I used to have lot of files here. Oh, God.” Sick, he looked up. “I don’t see any files here, Vince.”

  Vince bit his lip.

  “Tell me she didn’t file,” he urged. “Please. Tell me she’s just been sitting here answering phones, blowing up coffee machines and looking pretty.”

  “Well...”

  With one short, concise oath, Joe stood. “Where?” he said quietly, and Vince pointed to the series of filing cabinets against the wall. “She told me the other day she’d been doing a little at a time. She, uh...revamped your syste
m for you.”

  “Oh, great.” Knowing Caitlin, things could be anywhere. Individual contracts could have been grouped and filed away under N for “Nasty-Looking Documents.” Detailed software instructions, which tended to look like maps, could have been filed under anything from D for “Directions,” to L for “Looks like Latin to me.”

  “I’m going to have to kill her.”

  Vince sighed and moved toward the files. “No. Then I’d have to kill you. Too messy, Joe.”

  Unreasonable jealousy reared up and smacked him, hard. She’d made instant friends with these guys. Real friends. They were already as loyal to her as they were to him, maybe more. Joe had never in his life made an instant friend, and he was afraid that said something about him. Something he didn’t like.

  She was just a woman, he reminded himself. One woman. And while he knew it was a rotten, unfair generalization, he’d found that most women were manipulators. That had always been fine with him, since he’d never wanted one for more than the usual quick fling.

  But now things were different. He didn’t want a quick fling with Caitlin. All he wanted was his work. Oh, man, he couldn’t lie to himself. He did want a quick, hard fling, and that really got him. This was his work, dammit. Work and pleasure did not mix!

  Tim and Andy came in, and when they found out what Caitlin had done, they quickly offered to help.

  “Keep in mind,” Andy said, flipping through the first drawer, “if you fire her now, we’ll go back to answering our own phones, and you’ll get even less done. Think of your program, Joe. The one you’re almost done with. Our future, man. Just remember.”

  “Yeah, our future.” Joseph’s mouth tightened. Since Caitlin had joined them, he’d accomplished little toward that goal. What made it worse, he couldn’t put all the blame at her feet.

  For some reason, when he sat at his computer, he now spent a good amount of time just staring at it, seeing a certain brown-eyed, sweet-smiling, drop-dead-gorgeous blonde. Thinking. Wishing. Hoping. And it annoyed him.

  The files were...perfect. As were in the As. Bs in the Bs. And so on. The Huntley file was with the Hs. It was a miracle.

  And he was a jerk.