by Day Leclaire
She brightened. “Oh, you’re a list person? I’m one, too. They’re so helpful, don’t you think? Much better than rules.”
He eyed her suspiciously. Was she mocking him? Not that it mattered. She wouldn’t last two days of her two week trial period. He’d see to that. “Rule number one. I’m the boss. What I say goes. No discussion. No argument. I win. Clear?”
She scribbled away at her pad of paper. “That’s fine.”
“Rule number two. No interoffice relationships. Find your dates outside the workplace.”
More scribbles. “I can live with that,” she said with a nod.
“And rule number three. No dogs.”
This time the pen hovered over the notepad. She glanced at him, a small frown gathering between her brows. “Scratch has a mind of his own, I’m afraid. I’ll tell him he can’t come, though I doubt he’ll listen.”
“Try leaving him in the house and locking the door.”
She started to reply, then hesitated, glancing down at what she’d written. “It’s difficult to explain,” she said cautiously. “Especially since you’re the boss and I wouldn’t dream of arguing. But leaving Scratch home won’t work. He’s very devious about getting his own way.”
“A deaf devious dalmatian.”
“Very devious.”
“With a leather fetish and the ability to read lips.”
“Well... He reads them when he chooses to. Which is much too infrequently as far as I’m concerned. He doesn’t want to get distracted from his true purpose.”
“Right.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Not a word.”
To his surprise a hint of anger intensified the brilliance of her eyes. “Let’s get something straight, Mr. Harding. I may have my fair share of flaws. Perhaps more than my fair share. But I don’t lie. Not ever.”
He inclined his head. “My apologies. But you have to admit—”
“In fact, I tend to be too honest. And blunt,” she confessed. “I can’t help myself. And this might be a good time to tell you that I have a temper. A bad one. It’s gotten me in trouble once or twice.”
Reed’s expression eased and a hint of a smile tilted his mouth. “I’ll bet.”
“Now that we have that straightened out... Do you have any more rules for me?”
“Probably. I’ll let you know as the situation arises.”
“Okay.”
She examined her steno pad for a final time, then tucked it away in her purse along with her leather-bound book and pen. Once again, the mechanics of how she managed to fit so many items in such a tiny space defeated him. Must be a woman thing, he finally decided.
“What about my duties?” Angie asked. “You said something about a list.”
“Right here.” He opened a desk drawer and withdrew a sheet of paper. “After so many secretaries, I found it easier to write everything down.”
“Very smart,” she approved. “If you don’t mind my asking, why have you lost all those secretaries?”
He leaned back in his chair and grinned. “I have something of a temper, too. And as I mentioned earlier, I’m very demanding.”
A glimmer of an answering smile appeared before she turned her attention to his list. “All my duties recorded and numbered,” she murmured. “Very thorough.”
“Do you have any questions?”
“Let’s see... Filing, phones, typing... Oh. I’m supposed to attend business meetings and conferences with you?”
“Is that a problem? There’s one next month in Chicago. We’ll leave early on a Friday and return sometime Sunday.”
“I look forward to attending.”
“You’ll also have to go to various job sites with me if the need arises.”
, “That sounds interesting.” She returned her attention to the paper. “Organize schedule, update computer, deal with clients...”
She’d reached the last item on his list and he stood. “Are you ready to get started? Casey Radcliff fills in when I’m between secretaries. She can answer any questions you might have.”
Angie stood, as well, still reviewing her duties. “I shouldn’t have any problems. It all looks pretty routine,” she said. Snagging her purse, she headed for the door, pausing to glance at him over her shoulder. “Well... Except for that last item. That might prove a bit of a challenge.”
He frowned. “What last item?”
“The one about finding you a wife.” With another of her glittering smiles, she sauntered out of his office and closed the door.
Three inches of solid oak did little to muffle his roar of outrage.
CHAPTER TWO
ANGIE had just taken a seat at her desk when Reed ripped open the door separating them. He appeared angry. Very angry. She wasn’t surprised. She’d hoped to mention that final item on his list so casually he wouldn’t even notice. Apparently, she’d failed. One glance at six foot four inches of powerfully built infuriated male animal told her that much.
“Ms. Makepeace!” As though aware of the interest he’d generated among the nearby office staff, he reduced his roar to a more reasonable shout. “In my office. Now!”
Oh, dear. She hadn’t seen an expression like that since Supervisor Goodenkind had discovered she’d slipped Napoleon through the Pearly Gates for a quick peek around the place. Reed looked even angrier. He hadn’t been kidding about having a temper. It caught deep within his hazel eyes, inflaming the gold and shadowing the green. His roughly hewn features were stretched taut, emphasizing the square jaw and sharp cheekbones. And his lips—lips she’d noted as deliciously full and sensuous—had compressed into a tight line. How incredibly intimidating.
“Certainly, Mr. Harding,” she replied with amazing calm. Picking up her steno pad and a pen, she stepped into his office ahead of him. The door slammed, underlining his fury, and she turned to face him. “Is there a problem?”
“You might say that.”
He blocked the door, as though to prevent her from bolting. His body, hardened by years of working construction, appeared more than adequate for the job. Angie suppressed a sigh. As though running were an option. She couldn’t leave until she’d completed her mission. And that had begun to look far more difficult than she’d initially anticipated. She tapped her steno pad against her thigh. What an impossible male this Reed Harding had turned out to be. Considering how much trouble he’d given her over working as his secretary, finding him a wife would no doubt be impossible.
“Am I supposed to guess what the problem is?” she asked with angelic sweetness—the sort that usually earned her a stem reprimand from her supervisor.
“What the hell do you mean you’re here to find me a wife?”
“Oh. That.”
“Yes, that.”
She shrugged. “It was on your list.”
“The hell it was.”
“Shall I show you?”
“That would prove interesting since I wrote that list myself. And I didn’t put anything about finding a wife on there.”
Angie lifted an eyebrow. “Are you going to move so I can go get it, or am I supposed to fight my way past you?”
The grimness in his gaze ebbed and the mouth she found so fascinating tilted to one side. “That’s the most tempting offer I’ve had all day. Would you like to try?”
She eyed the breadth of shoulder and endless ridges of muscle his blue chambray shirt did little to conceal. She didn’t stand a chance of budging him which almost prompted her to try. The urge to indulge in a wrestling match with such a gorgeous example of manhood proved an almost irresistible allure. Almost. She caught herself in time, remembering that her mission was to find him a wife, not gratify her earthly desires.
He must have read the refusal in her expression, because he inclined his head in acknowledgment, the spotlights above him catching in the bronze strands striping his dark brown hair. Stepping to one side, he allowed her access to the door. Unfortunately, he must have also seen how close she’d come to
agreeing, for his hand fastened over hers as she reached for the knob.
“You see why our working together won’t succeed?” Reed asked quietly. “You feel it, too, don’t you?”
She couldn’t deny it, any more than she could deny the bittersweet rush of sensation his work-roughened hand aroused. It had been so long since she’d felt the touch of a man, since she’d experienced the initial surge of desire, followed by that heady flush of need. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to his. “Once I find you a wife you can love, it won’t bother you anymore. I promise. I’m a momentary distraction. But the feeling won’t last.”
“It won’t last because you won’t last.” He spoke more urgently. “I have connections. I’ll find you a job elsewhere. You must realize this road we’re traveling is pure trouble.”
“I’m afraid it’s the only road I know,” she admitted wryly. And that, more than anything she’d told him since they’d met, was heaven’s own truth.
She turned the knob, wondering if he’d stop her. For a nerve-racking instant his hand tightened, while the harsh release of his breath rushed past her check. Then she heard an odd sound winging through her head, a whispered desire too faint for her to catch. With a muttered exclamation, Reed released her and moved toward his desk.
“Get the list,” he snapped.
For the first time in her life—or since her death— Angie found it difficult to balance atop her three-inch spikes. She focused on planting one foot in front of the other. Reaching the desk, she picked up the list. Then she took a precious few seconds to gather her composure.
Reed Harding was just a man, she reminded herself, and she’d successfully dealt with men from the minute she’d escaped her cradle. She’d never been flustered by one before, never been bewitched or bewildered by the falseness of what most called “love.”
Oh, sure, she’d experienced some of the more pleasurable aspects of that particular emotion. She’d known the giddy rush of passion that struck early on in a relationship and the pure sensual pleasure of physical desire. But she’d never allowed those feelings to rule her heart, let alone her head. She could handle this situation. It only called for ignoring her baser instincts while she sorted through the available women in Reed’s life. There must be someone compatible for such a hard-a—Hard case!
Taking a deep breath, she returned to the office and closed the door. Crossing to his desk, she dropped the list on top of the stacks of clutter. “Last line. It says ‘Find me a wife.”’
He snatched up the piece of paper, his brows snapping together as he read. “What sort of game are you playing?” he asked in a dangerously soft voice.
It wasn’t a question she could answer. Not quite yet. Taking a seat, she flipped open her notebook and glanced at him, her pen poised above the page. “Shall we discuss what sort of woman you’d like?”
“No!” His shout almost knocked her out of the chair. “Tell me how that item got on my list.”
“Didn’t you put it there?”
“No way.” He held her with eyes gone totally black. “Did you?”
“No.” But she could guess who had. Guardian Angels could be pretty tricky when they chose.
He tossed the paper aside and studied her. “Honesty is vital to me. In fact, it’s number one on my list of virtues.”
She brightened. “Another list?”
“Ms. Makepeace!”
“All right, all right.” She met his eyes so he couldn’t doubt her sincerity. “I believe we’ve already addressed the subject of honesty. I don’t lie, remember?”
“So you said.”
“Now that we have that settled, shall we get down to business? If you’d tell me what you’d like in a wife, I’ll take care of it. I promise to keep it strictly confidential. No problem.”
“Wrong, sweetheart. It’s a big problem. I hired you to be my secretary. That’s it. Handle the responsibility for that position, and we’ll get along fine. But I better not hear another word about finding me a wife. I’m not in the market. Is that clear?”
She sighed. “Is this rule number four?”
“I think rule number one covers it. I’m the boss, remember? What I say goes. No discussion. No argument. I win.”
“I’m beginning to realize that particular rule’s going to be a royal pain in the a—Acorns!”
He suppressed a smile. “I can live with that.”
Maybe so, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t be certain how long she had to accomplish her mission, but it wouldn’t be more than a month. If she hadn’t achieved results within that time... Determination filled her. “Could you at least tell me what qualities you’d like in a wife?” she asked, praying her desperation didn’t show. “Then we won’t have to discuss it again.”
“You don’t give up, do you?”
“I can’t.” Not if she hoped to remain on the proper side of the Pearly Gates.
“Let me make it easy for you. My mother is the current matchmaker in my life. She’s decided it’s her duty to see me married and works quite hard at it.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It’s more inconvenient than anything else. At least once a month she makes dinner reservations with the latest sacrificial lamb she’s discovered and informs me of them at the last minute.”
“Awkward.”
“To say the least.”
Curiosity stirred. “Why don’t you refuse to go?”
“That would hardly be fair to the woman involved. She’s usually on the way to the restaurant by the time the call comes through. As for my mother... Let’s just say I have my reasons for agreeing to her requests.” Another subject off limits, it would seem. “So you see why I don’t need your help finding a wife. I’m sure tonight’s sacrifice has all the necessary qualities and virtues I could want in a woman.”
“Really?” Angie smiled in delight.
“Really.”
She flipped closed her steno pad. “Tell me about tonight’s date. What’s she like?”
“You’re not listening, are you?”
“I most certainly am,” she informed him with a touch of indignation. “I’ve heard—and can repeat—every word you’ve said since we first met. And trust me, you’ve had quite a lot to say.”
“Really? How tedious for you.” His eyes glinted dangerously. “Would you care to repeat my exact comments in regards to discussing my personal life?”
“‘I hired you to be my secretary,”’ she quoted. “‘That’s it. Handle the responsibility for that position, and we’ll get along fine. But I better not hear another word about finding me a wife. I’m not in the market. Is that clear?’”
“Impressive. Did you understand my instructions?” he questioned softly. “Was there any part that confused you?”
“You’re not going to tell me about her, are you?”
“No.” He thrust back his chair and stood. “And now I suggest you memorize my next comment. Then you might want to type it up and keep it where you can refer to it on a regular basis. Are you ready?”
“I’m not going to like this, am I?”
“I seriously doubt it.” He leaned across the desk toward her. “You’re stuck here for a two week trial period as we agreed. At which point I’ll take great delight in firing your sweet backside and having you out of my life once and for all.”
A small whine from the far side of the room interrupted them.
“Gee,” Joel announced cheerfully. “I think we walked in at the wrong minute. What do you think, Scratch?”
“It’s not my fault,” Angie insisted. “Reed Harding is impossible. Don’t you give me that look. I am so trying. And get off his couch. If he finds any more dog hair on those cushions he won’t bother waiting two weeks to fire us. We’ll be out first thing in the morning.”
Scratch barked energetically before burrowing deeper into the leather nest he’d made.
“For your information, I do have a plan. In case you hadn’t noticed, this is Reed’s appointment book.” She
’d found it under the mounds of files and papers littering his desk. “And tonight he happens to have a date with someone named Pamela at Sarducci’s.” She brightened. “Remember that restaurant? That was a fun assignment, wasn’t it?”
The dog buried his muzzle in his paws and growled.
“I’m sure they’ve forgotten about that. Anyway...” She dismissed his concern with a wave of her hand. “You and I are going to Sarducci’s tonight to observe their relationship. With a bit of luck Pamela will be perfect for Reed and it’ll only take a gentle nudge to get them married and living happily-ever-after.”
She couldn’t quite keep a cynical note from seeping into her voice, a fact Scratch noted with a reprimanding woof. But what did he expect? In all her days on earth, she’d never seen such a condition. Not the sort of love that lasted. She fought a sense of despair as she curled up on the couch next to the dog. Maybe Reed and Perfect Pamela would prove her wrong. She certainly hoped so. Because if they didn’t...
Angie shuddered. She’d spent every one of the twenty-eight years of her earthly existence living on the “outside.” The thought of doing that for the rest of eternity was too horrible to contemplate. Just once she wanted to belong somewhere. And to have a home. A real home, where she was accepted and lo—Realizing where her thoughts had almost led, she laughed. Love. Did she really still yearn for such an impossible dream? Wrapping her arms around Scratch’s neck, she laughed until she wept—which struck her as quite odd.
She’d never realized angels could cry.
To Angie’s secret amusement, she arrived at Sarducci’s at the exact same instant as Reed and Pamela. Reed looked far less amused by the “coincidence.” Clearly, a sense of humor wasn’t part of his nature, which made it all the more imperative that his future wife possess one. Angie studied his date, her pale brows drawing together. If this woman had a sense of humor, she kept it well hidden.
“What are you doing here?” Reed demanded in a rough undertone.
“I’m having dinner. What are you doing?”