Falling For Her Boss

by Kay Lyons

  “No, I—no one.”

  “Not even your boyfriend?”

  She set her jaw, but whether it was to fight against the pain or in deference to the doc’s words, Hal couldn’t judge.

  “Then you can stay with Ellen. She won’t mind at all.” The doc glanced at Hal quickly, a slight smirk to his lips. “You’ll be safe, and I’m sure the chief won’t have a problem with hanging out nearby.”

  Hal glared at Booker. His relationship with Ellen was certainly healthier than anything the playboy doc could claim.

  Would Booker really leave Mel alone?

  “I can’t stay there—I want to go home.”

  The doc’s expression hardened. “Sweetheart, if you go back there, you’re putting yourself at risk. You realize that, don’t you? Abusive situations only get worse. Your boyfriend—”

  “I fell.”

  “Anna, you need to get out. Tonight.”

  Anna shook her head but didn’t say anything.

  The doc listened to her breathing. “How old are you?”

  The girl wet her lips, wincing because the lower one was split. “Eighteen.”

  “Sure about that? You look younger.”

  “I’ll be nineteen soon. In a few months.”

  Straightening, the doc lifted his hands, gently inserting his fingers into her hair. “Will you let us take some pictures of the bruises?”

  Eyes low, she shook her head. “Nothing happened. I just tripped over something, that’s all. I bruise easily.”

  “The chief and I will back you up in court. You have nothing to be afraid of. You can end it now and the guy who did this will go to jail. You’ll be free.”

  The young woman’s face crumpled with tears momentarily before she pulled herself together. “I’m all right! Stop giving me such a hard time, okay? Nothing h-happened!”

  “Shh…calm down.” Booker braced his hands on either side of Anna’s knees, hunkering down until his nose nearly touched hers.

  Hal shifted, uncomfortable with the sight until he realized that with his change of position, he got an unfettered view of the doc’s face and was able to see the other man’s upset and anger—emotions the doc apparently tried to get across to a girl who thought it normal to be knocked around. Despite the man’s reputation for using women and tossing them aside, his impression of Booker went up a notch.

  “Take it easy. Honey, listen to me, okay? You are eighteen years old. It’s Friday night. You should be out having fun with your friends, not getting beaten up by some jerk who doesn’t appreciate you. Before you say you fell again, let me show you something. See those marks right there on your shoulder? That’s where he smashed your skin between his fist and your bones. Those bruises right there?” He pointed. “That’s where he grabbed you so tight he bruised you. I can tell the difference between someone falling and someone getting beaten, Anna. So can a lot of other people.”

  Hands clasped tightly in her lap, Anna looked away from the doctor’s gaze and picked at a broken nail, tears trickling silently down her cheeks. “M-my head hurts…and my s-side. Can you… Do you have anything you c-can give me?”

  Mouth tight, Booker hesitated a long moment before he shoved himself away from the table and walked the two steps it took to get to a cabinet. “I need to watch you for a little while to make sure you don’t have a concussion before I can give you any meds,” he informed her. “But I’ll give you some later when you leave.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Taking the meds will ease the hurt now, but they won’t do you any good next time, Anna.” The doc turned back to the counter and ripped a bandage partially open in preparation for using it. “So tell me, how’d it feel?”

  The doc’s voice was quiet, soft, like he wasn’t asking her hard questions, but was merely discussing the weather. Hal had to give him credit, he was getting the point across without raising his voice or yelling, something the girl probably wasn’t used to.

  “Were you scared he wouldn’t stop?”

  Anna sniffled and dropped her chin. A nod?

  “Scared he’d do more?” Booker got to work on her scrapes and cuts, murmuring all the while. Little comments about how he thought women should be treated, how if her boyfriend loved her, he wouldn’t hit her. Through it all Anna stayed quiet, fighting tears the entire time or else hissing in pain when the doc checked her sore ribs and declared them bruised but not broken. Her sprained wrist needed to be wrapped, her index finger splinted, but surprisingly, she didn’t have a concussion, just a bloody cut and bump.

  “I’ll get you some samples for the pain.”

  Anna nodded gratefully, but when he was about to move away from her, she reached out and touched his arm. “Is it… Are you going to take pictures?”

  Hal straightened at the question.

  “Think you might give the chief a chance to use them?”

  “I fell,” she murmured stubbornly. “But if i-it happens again…”

  “Knock, knock!” Ellen’s greeting announced her arrival and she entered the practice through the unlocked door, hurrying toward him. “Sorry it took me so long. I had a couple more calls that had to be dealt with. Must be something in the air tonight.”

  “Ellen? Come on in,” Booker called.

  “How is she?” Ellen paused inside the exam room. “Oh, honey.”

  Hal listened with half an ear while Booker introduced Anna to Ellen. Before he had finished, the girl started to cry. Whatever Anna hadn’t seen in the two men, she saw in Ellen because the young woman immediately reached for her with a sob. Ellen wrapped Anna in her arms and rocked her back and forth on the exam table, smoothing her hand over her hair and crooning softly.

  In that second, he thought of Mel, of how she could’ve used a woman’s touch during her illness. If she’d give Ellen a chance, he knew they could be friends.

  Would Mel be all right on her own?

  Sometimes he wasn’t too sure.

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING Melissa got out of her car and smoothed her hands over her hips to wipe away the moisture. The reception desk had been an awful mess last night. So much so she’d dreamed about stacks and stacks of paper towering above her head and weaving back and forth, ready to topple on her. No way could she face the mess, the patients, the gossip and Bryan all at the same time.

  She raised her hand, paused when nerves balked, then forced herself to knock on the door. A window above her opened, and Melissa shaded her eyes with her hand, stifling a gasp when she spied Bryan’s sleep-tousled head. When that sight was followed by a naked chest and the top of a tightly honed six pack, she found herself wondering just how far out the window he’d lean.

  “Melissa?”

  Good grief, even his voice was sexy. She remembered when it cracked and squeaked. “Uh, h-hello, uh—” What should she call him if he was her boss? “—Dr. Booker.”

  He blinked at her, braced one hand on the windowsill and lifted the other to rub lazily over his chest. A slow grin tugged at his lips. “There’s no need to be formal.”

  “Oh, um, okay. I’m sorry I woke you. G-go back to— I’ll go.” She dropped her hand and turned. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why hadn’t she called first?

  “Don’t move,” he ordered. “I’m coming down.”

  “No, you don’t have t—”

  “Just stay put and give me a sec to get dressed.”

  Wondering who he had up there with him that would require him to not already be dressed at ten o’clock in the morning, she debated the merits of ignoring him and leaving. She could come back later. Much later. Or not at all? Was she nuts to consider this?

  A woman laughed.

  Melissa jerked her head up toward Bryan’s still-open window, but when the sound came again, she traced it to the house positioned on the right of the medical practice. Was that…

  Squinting, she focused on the fluttering lace curtains and sucked in a sharp breath. It was! Ellen Morton was talking on the phone, her voice carrying the
short distance between the houses. The woman’s laughter was low and teasing. Had she just said her father’s name? Her name?

  The door behind her opened, and Melissa spun around to face Bryan with a glare only to wind up gaping at him instead. Getting dressed apparently involved pulling on low-riding, body-molding jeans and a black T-shirt that defined his broad chest and muscles. Yesterday he’d worn casual slacks and a button-down dress shirt, but now Bryan looked like he’d stepped out of an ad for Abercrombie & Fitch or a rough-and-tumble Ralph Lauren spread.

  Forcing her gaze to his and hating the fact she stood one step lower, which put her at ab level with him, Melissa ignored the crick in her neck and stared up into his hypnotic green eyes, trying in vain to gather her wits. Not an easy feat considering the sight of him made her nervous and…sick.

  Because he was perfect.

  Completely, totally, absolutely perfect from his sandy-brown hair finger-combed off his face and left to curl on his neck, to his bare, big-man feet that balanced a six-foot-plus frame. Corded muscles, ripped abs that could be seen beneath the well-worn shirt, a muscular build any male model would envy. Bryan was the prime example of a man.

  He leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and crossed his arms over his chest with a lethal half grin that made her insides tingle and heat in an unfamiliar way. But that was absurd. Because as perfect as he appeared to be, that was how imperfect she was in comparison. If she were a normal woman she might have appreciated the welcoming, flirtatious smile, but she wasn’t normal, never would be, and a man like Bryan Booker only made her more aware of all her shortcomings. Why couldn’t he sport a purple mustache now or still think it funny to fart?

  Bryan tilted his head to the side, his indecently long lashes adding to a sexy, sleepy expression few men could pull off without looking ridiculous.

  “Melissa?”

  He said her name patiently, as if he was accustomed to the chore because other women had done as she had and been rendered speechless at the sight of him. Coming out of her daze, she cleared her throat only to be sidetracked yet again by the sound of Ellen’s laughter carrying from next door. She raised an eyebrow. “Ellen Morton is your neighbor?”

  “Yeah.”

  Everything came together at once. “So you’d seen my dad hanging out over there, and when you saw my reaction yesterday at the station—” She groaned, closing her eyes briefly. “I must’ve looked like an idiot to you.”

  “You didn’t look like an idiot at all. You looked like someone had pulled the rug out from under you,” he admitted, his voice gently teasing, “but not an idiot.”

  She smiled wearily and lifted a hand toward the other house. “Do you know her well?”

  “The way neighbors do these days. Why don’t you come in?”

  She hesitated, but when he moved back, she climbed the remaining step and entered the hallway leading to the reception area. Exam rooms lined both sides, four in all, with a public restroom and Bryan’s office taking up the rest of the space. Diplomas, both his and his R.N.’s, lined the white walls, and a bulletin board full of pictures hung over a water cooler located toward the front of the old house.

  “Why don’t we talk in my office?”

  She nodded, her thoughts focusing on Bryan’s comment about Ellen. What exactly did being neighborly mean given Bryan’s reputation with women?

  Clearing her head with a shake, Melissa followed him into the paper-stacked room and tried to smile. What a mess. How on earth would she get everything straight?

  “Have a seat and tell me what brings you here on a beautiful Saturday morning,” he ordered, dropping into a worn but comfortable-looking leather chair. His grandfather’s?

  She glanced at the rolled arm. Yup, same one. There was a deep scratch where the buckle of her shoe had damaged it when she was six. It was amazing that it had lasted this long, and she found it sweet that Bryan had kept the old chair. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

  He propped his elbow on the cushioned armrest and tilted his head to the side, his hand rubbing over his chin as he regarded her with an intense stare. Bryan’s gaze was probing and warm and way too slumberous for her liking, so she turned her back to him and studied yet more diplomas and awards. “I, uh, came to work.”

  “You’re a couple days early. I’m not open on weekends.”

  “I know, but I wanted to get a head start,” she informed him while discovering he’d graduated at the top of his class. She moved on to the next frame, this one closer to the door. “Things were such a mess, I didn’t think you’d mind, but since you obviously do—”

  “I didn’t say that. I’m just curious as to why you want to spend a beautiful Saturday morning cooped up in here.”

  “Like I said, to make Monday easier.”

  Bryan rubbed his face again, the bristles on his jaw and chin rasping crisply against his fingers. “Hey, if you’re willing, by all means, let’s go for it.”

  She didn’t like the surge of mixed-up emotions she felt in response to his words. Bryan was a flirt by nature, and she’d seen him in action on numerous occasions. At the book-club discussion meetings at the library, in town and the B and B. He smiled, he winked, he spoke in a way that made women sit up and pay attention. She knew better than to take it seriously, but at the same time it was distracting and she didn’t want to be distracted. Not by him. Not ever. Maybe she should set that straight? Take the guesswork out of the equation?

  “Look, let’s go upstairs and—”

  “Upstairs?” she repeated huskily.

  “Yeah. We can grab something to eat and talk about today before I get started showing you what I need from you. Something wrong?” Bryan stopped in front of her, standing too close for comfort, his expression and bad-boy looks appealing far too much to a woman who had to think with her head.

  “Yes—I mean, no. N-not technically, but—”

  “Spit it out, Melissa.”

  “I think we need to talk.” She followed that up with a nod just in case she wasn’t clear.

  “Aren’t we talking now?”

  His tone teased, bringing another blush to her cheeks. She felt silly, unsophisticated, but determined. “Before I consider taking on this job, I think we need to get some things straight. Important things.”

  “Important things,” he repeated, drawing the words out. “Like what?”

  Chapter 4

  BRYAN STARED at Melissa, his gut twisted into a knot of unease. She had that look. The look women wore when they were determined to put a guy in his place. A look Melissa had worn often as a kid. He’d learned the hard way that he might have always been bigger and stronger, but Melissa was smarter.

  The four-year age difference hadn’t mattered much, even though she’d been five to his nine. Throwing rocks, climbing trees, riding bikes. They were kids being kids, a group of them who’d hung out and played during the day. But when the others went home, Melissa had stayed, her father’s long hours matching his grandfather’s.

  “What kind of ‘important things’?”

  “Well…” She clasped her hands in front of her and squeezed until they were red. “Flirting, for one.”

  He stared at her, unsure where this was headed. “Flirting?”

  “Are you going to repeat everything I say?”

  “I’m giving myself time to process things,” he said. “Give a guy a chance to wake up.”

  “Bryan, we used to be friends—”

  “We’re not friends?”

  She waved a hand as though batting away the question. “Honestly? We’re more like acquaintances, as you well know.”

  He conceded that point with a nod. The years had wrought a lot of changes in them both.

  “We played together as kids, didn’t see each other for a long time, and then you came back and you saw me—” she closed her eyes “—at one of my worst possible moments.”

  She was worried about—

  “You stood in my living room and told me my baby died not because
of the things I helped the prosecutor convict Joe of doing to her, but because I neglected—”

  “I never said you neglected her!” He planted his hands on his hips and glared at her. “I’ve never once said that.”

  “But in that instant, I’d not only lost my daughter again, I’d lost my hair and my dignity and very nearly my sanity, and you saw it all. So just…ease up. I’m not going to be another Holly or Crystal or Lisa, or any of the others you’ve—not that you’ve asked me to—” she clarified quickly, holding up her hands so he wouldn’t interrupt. “But I just want to set the record straight. I want a job, Bryan, nothing else, and the effort you’re putting into being…nice and—and flirtatious isn’t needed because it’s wasted on me. You don’t need to be that way with me.”

  “Is that right?” She was giving him a hard time because he was nice?

  “Don’t take it personally. It’s not you, it’s me,” she said, echoing his words to Tricia the Temp, but making it so much worse by adding that last part. “I’m just asking you not to bother, that’s all. You can relax. There’s no pressure for you to be…you know, Dr. Love. That’s the last thing I want. Just be my friend again, my boss. If you can do that, we can work together.” Melissa held out her hand. “Deal?”

  He took her soft, trembling palm in his. She’d taken the lead and said everything he’d wanted to say to her. Well, not quite the same things, but close enough. The no-flirting rule, keeping things professional. It was all good. “Deal,” he murmured, ignoring the slight punch in the gut he felt because she looked so relieved.

  * * *

  TWO AND A HALF HOURS later, Bryan quietly walked down the hall carrying yet more of the files that had accumulated in his office. While he’d unearthed his desk, Melissa had sorted through the collection of papers and files covering the reception area, moved into the waiting room and now had everything divided into neatly stacked, organized piles. In record time, too. She’d accomplished more in a couple of hours than the other temps had completed in weeks. And after her little speech about being friends, the tension and worry he’d felt about hiring her eased. “Looks like you’ve gotten a handle on things. You ready to stop for lunch yet?”