How to Sleep with the Boss

by Janice Maynard

  “Don’t patronize me,” she said slowly. “I mentioned the one-hotel-room thing when I was safely out of the mine and standing in your office. Did you forget about that?”

  “A relationship forged under duress doesn’t usually stand the test of time.”

  She scowled, even as the plane bumped down on the runway at LaGuardia. “For a guy who’s barely thirty, you pontificate like someone’s grandmother.”

  He sighed, his jaw tight. “Are we having our first fight?”

  “No,” she snapped. “That happened when you called me a misfit.”

  “So many things are clear now,” he muttered, his hot gaze skating from her lips to her breasts. “It’s the red hair. I could have saved myself a lot of heartache if I’d known that the woman I interviewed in the beginning was not a mouse, but instead an exotic, hotheaded spitfire.”

  “Patronizing and chauvinistic.”

  A deep voice interrupted their quarrel. “Um, excuse me...Mr. Kavanagh? We have to deplane now.”

  Libby groaned inwardly, embarrassed beyond belief. How much had the pilot overheard? Grabbing her coat and shoving her arms into the sleeves, she scooped up her purse and climbed over Patrick’s legs to head for the exit. He let her go, presumably lingering to deal with their luggage.

  A private limo awaited them, a uniformed driver at the ready. When Patrick climbed in to the backseat with her, she ignored him pointedly, her face still hot with mortification.

  How was a woman supposed to deal with a man who was both brutally honest and ridiculously appealing? Was she seriously going to settle for a temporary fling? And what was the time limit? When Charlise came back in six months, did the affair and the job end on the same day?

  Patrick took her hand. “Quit sulking.”

  Her temper shot up several notches. She gave him a look that should have melted the door frame. “I’ve changed my mind. I want my own hotel room. I need a job more than I need you.”

  He stroked the inside of her wrist with his thumb. “Don’t be mad, my beautiful girl. We’re in New York. Alone. Away from my meddling family. We can do anything we want...anything at all.”

  His voice threatened to mesmerize her. Deep and husky with arousal, his words had the smooth cadence of a snake charmer. She shivered inwardly. “How easy do you think I am?” Her indignation dwindled rapidly in inverse proportion to the increase in her shaky breathing and the acceleration of her rushing pulse.

  Patrick lifted her wrist and kissed the back of her hand. “You’re not easy at all, Libby. You’re damned difficult. Every time I think I have you figured out, you surprise me all over again.”

  She caught the chauffeur’s gaze in the rearview mirror. The man lifted an eyebrow. Libby blushed again and stared out the window. “Not now, Patrick. We’re almost there.”

  Patrick settled back in his seat, but the enigmatic smile on his face made Libby want to kiss the smirk off his face. Fortunately for her self-control, the car pulled up in front of their destination. While Patrick swiped his credit card, Libby slid out of the vehicle, shivering when a blast of cold air flipped up the tail of her coat.

  “Where’s our luggage?” she asked, suddenly anxious about Maeve’s nice suitcases and Libby’s new clothes.

  “The driver is taking them on to the Carlyle. They’ll hold them for us until check-in time.”

  He took her arm. “C’mon. We’re early, but I want to make sure they’re ready for us.” Ushering her through sleek revolving doors, he hurried her into the building and onto the elevator. Fortunately for Libby, the small space was crowded, meaning she didn’t have to talk to Patrick at all.

  On the twenty-seventh floor, they exited. An eerily perfect receptionist greeted them. Behind her in platinum letters were the words Peabody Rushford. Libby took off her coat, using the opportunity to look around with curiosity. It was difficult to imagine anyone from this upscale environment insisting that executives participate in one of Patrick’s field experiences.

  Moments later, after a hushed communication via a high-tech intercom system, they were escorted to the boardroom where Patrick would do his presentation. Every chair at the glossy conference table was situated at an exact ninety-degree angle. Crystal tumblers filled with ice water sat on folded linen napkins.

  Not a single item in the room was out of place. Except Libby. She felt ill at ease. Why had she agreed to accompany Patrick? Oh, wait. Tagging along had been her idea. She was still holding out hope that she could convince him to give her the job.

  The executives trickled into the room, first one or two, and then three or four, until finally, the entire team was assembled. Eight men, four women. Plus the graying boss. She guessed his underlings ranged in age from early thirties to late forties. Libby was easily the youngest person in the room.

  Patrick greeted each participant warmly, introducing himself with the self-deprecatory charm she had come to expect from him. He was confident and humorous, and he interacted with both men and women equally well. When everyone was seated, there were three chairs remaining at one end of the table. Libby took the middle one, leaving a buffer on either side.

  She was here as an interested observer. No need to get chummy. Not now at least. The future remained to be seen. If she continued to work for Patrick—and it was possible he might decide to let her stay on—then no doubt, she would be meeting these people in April.

  Honestly, it was hard to imagine any of this crew getting dirty in the woods. The women wore similar quasi uniforms. Dark formfitting blazers with matching pencil skirts and white silk blouses. Their hairstyles fell into two camps...either sophisticated chignons or sharply modern pixie cuts.

  The men were equally polished. Their dark suits resembled Patrick’s. Though he wore a red power tie, the executives’ neckwear was more conservative. Finally, the room settled, and Patrick began his spiel.

  Libby knew Patrick was smart. But seeing him operate in this environment was eye-opening. He spoke to the group as an equal...a man with experience in their world as well as the master of his own domain, Silver Reflections.

  As the orientation proceeded, Libby watched the faces around the table. One of the women and several of the men were actively engaged, frequently asking questions...demonstrating enthusiasm and anticipation. Others exhibited veiled anxiety, and some were almost hostile.

  Patrick had shared with Libby that the CEO was an ex-marine...a man both hard in business and in his physical demands on himself. For him to insist that his top management people participate in Patrick’s program was asking a lot. Libby wondered if anyone would bail out, even if it might mean losing their jobs.

  During the official Q and A time at the end, one of the quieter women who hadn’t said a word so far raised her hand. When Patrick acknowledged her, she pointed at Libby. “Does she work for you? I’d like to hear what she has to say.”

  Patrick gave Libby a wry glance and shrugged. “Libby?”

  All eyes in the room focused on her. She cleared her throat, scrambling for the right words. She would never forgive herself if she botched this for Patrick. “Well, um...”

  The woman stared at her with naked apprehension. Clearly she wanted some kind of reassurance and saw Libby as a kindred spirit.

  Libby smiled. “I certainly understand if anyone in this room, male or female, has reservations about spending a night or two in the woods, particularly if your personal history doesn’t include campouts and bonfires. To be honest, I was the same way. But when I came to work for Patrick, it was important for me to try this immersion experience. I had to prove to myself that I could step outside my comfort zone.”

  The woman blanched. “And how did that go?”

  Libby laughed softly. “I’ll be honest. There were good parts and bad.” No reason to go into the mine-shaft fiasco. “On the plus side, the setting is pristine and b
eautiful and serene. If you haven’t been much of a nature lover in the past, I think you’ll be one when the weekend is over.”

  “And the less wonderful parts?”

  Though only one woman was doing the interrogation, Libby had a strong suspicion that others around the table were hanging on Libby’s comments, looking for reassurance.

  “Spending the night on the ground was a challenge, even with a comfy sleeping bag and a small pad. I’m a light sleeper to start with, so I found it difficult to relax enough to sleep deeply, even though I was tired.”

  “Anything else?”

  Libby hesitated. Patrick grinned and nodded, as if not perturbed at all by anything she might have to say. “Well,” she said, “there’s the issue of using the bathroom in the woods. Women are always at a disadvantage there.”

  A titter of laughter circled the table.

  Libby continued. “But all of this is minor stuff compared to the big picture. You’ll learn to rely on teamwork to get simple tasks done like meals and setting up camp and taking it down. I think you’ll see your coworkers in a new light. And I promise you that you’ll find skills and talents you never knew you had. Patrick is not a drill sergeant. He’s a facilitator. His knowledge is formidable. You can feel entirely safe with him in charge.”

  For a split second, the room was silent. Patrick was no longer smiling. If anything, he looked as if someone had punched him in the stomach. What was he thinking?

  The woman asking the questions breathed an audible sigh of relief. “Thank you, Libby. I feel much better about this now.”

  The boss nodded. “I encourage my people to ask questions. It’s the only way to learn.”

  Now some of the men seemed chagrined. Suddenly the woman in the group who had seemed like the weakest link had earned the boss’s respect. Libby was pleased that her own small contribution had helped.

  After the session adjourned, most of the staff returned to their offices. The boss lingered to speak with Patrick, expressing his opinion that the orientation had gone extremely well.

  Then it was time to go. Patrick and Libby retraced their steps to the lobby, both of them quiet. Libby stood on the sidewalk, huddled into her coat. “Do we split up now? And meet at the hotel later?”

  Patrick pulled up her hood and tucked a stray strand of hair inside. “Is it important for you to be alone when you revisit your old building?”

  She searched his face. “No. Not really. But I assumed you had other things to do.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “My business is done. I’d like to take you to lunch, and then we’ll face your past together.”

  “I might cry.”

  Patrick chuckled. “I think I can handle it. C’mon, I’m starving.”

  Eleven

  Patrick hailed a cab and helped Libby in, then ran around to the other side and joined her. Heavy clouds had rolled in. The sky overhead was gray and menacing. He gave the driver an address and sat back. “If you don’t mind, Libby, I thought we would try a new place Aidan recommended. It’s tucked away in the theater district, off the beaten path for tourists. He says they have the best homemade soups this side of North Carolina.”

  Libby smoothed the hem of her coat over her knees, unwittingly drawing attention to her legs. He had plans for those legs.

  She nodded. “Sounds good, but I’m surprised. I thought men needed more than soup to consider it a meal.”

  “I might have forgotten to mention the gyros and turkey legs.” His stomach growled on cue.

  Libby laughed. “Now I get it.”

  “You were amazing back there,” he said. “I never realized how much better these weekend trips would be if all the participants have the opportunity to calm their fears beforehand. Everything you said was perfect.”

  “But you’ve always done orientations...right?” She frowned.

  “I have. Yes. But the dynamics of these high-powered firms are interesting. No one wants to appear weak in front of the boss.”

  “Then how was today different?”

  “I think your presence at the table connected with that woman. She saw you as an ally. And perceived you to be truthful and sincere. So that gave her the courage to speak out. Truthfully, I think there were others in the room who shared some of the same anxieties. So even though they didn’t ask, they also wanted to know what you had to say.”

  “I’m glad I could help.”

  Patrick glanced at his watch. “Now, we’re officially off the clock...business concluded.”

  “There’s a lot of the day still ahead.”

  He leaned over, took her chin in his hand and kissed her full on the lips. “I’m sure we can find some way to fill the time.”

  “I’ll leave the planning up to you.” Her demure answer was accompanied by a teasing smile that made him wish he could ditch the rest of the day’s agenda and take her back to their room right now. Unfortunately, waiting wasn’t his strong suit.

  The change in her appearance still threw him off his stride. The Libby with whom he had communed out in the woods and down in the mine was spunky and cute and fun. He’d been aroused by her and interested in bedding her.

  This newly revamped Libby was something else again. She made him feel like an overeager adolescent caught up in a surge of hormones that were probably killing off his brain cells in droves. His libido was louder than ever. Take Libby. Take Libby. Man want woman.

  To disguise his increasing agitation, he pulled out his phone. With a muttered “excuse me,” he pretended to check important emails. Libby was neither insulted nor overly perturbed by his distraction. She stared out the window of the cab, perhaps both pleased and yet anxious about revisiting her old stomping grounds.

  That was one thing he loved about her. She wasn’t jaded, even though a woman from her background certainly could be. Perhaps she had always been so fresh and open to life’s surprises. Or maybe the places she and her mother had lived after being kicked out of their lavish home had taught Libby to appreciate her past.

  The café where they had lunch was noisy and crowded. Patrick was glad. He wasn’t in the mood for intimate conversation. His need to make love to Libby drowned out every other thought in his head.

  Libby, on the other hand, chatted happily, her mood upbeat despite the fact that she was facing an emotional hurdle this afternoon.

  He drank his coffee slowly, absently listening as his luncheon date conversed with the waitress about what it was like to be an understudy for an off-Broadway play. At last, the server walked away and Libby smiled at Patrick. “Sorry. I love hearing people’s stories.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Yet I haven’t heard all of yours. What did you study in college? Who did you want to be when you grew up? How many boyfriends did you have along the way?”

  A shadow flitted across her face. “I was an English major.”

  “Did you want to teach?”

  “No. Not really. My parents wouldn’t have approved.”

  “Too plebeian?” he asked, tongue in cheek.

  Libby rolled her eyes at him. “Something like that.”

  “Then why the English major?”

  She shrugged, her expression slightly defensive. “I loved books. It was the one area of study where I could indulge my obsession with the printed word and no one would criticize the hours I spent in the library.”

  “Is that what your parents did?”

  Her smile was bleak this time. “They told me no man would want to marry a woman who was boring. That I should learn to entertain and decorate a house and choose fine wines and converse about politics and current events.”

  “Sounds like a Stepford wife.”

  “I suppose. It became a moot point when my father decided to defraud the government. My standing in society evaporated, not that I m
inded. At least not on my own account. I did feel very sorry for what it did to my mother. She never signed on for coupon clipping and shopping at discount clothing stores. My father spoiled her and pampered her, right up until the day he was carted away in handcuffs.”

  “That’s all behind you now. Nothing but good times ahead.”

  He heard his own words and winced inwardly. What did he know about the struggles Libby faced? Even several years ago when he decided to give up his career in Chicago, it wasn’t a huge risk. The Kavanagh family had deep pockets. He had started Silver Reflections with his own money, but if he had run into financial difficulties, there would have been plenty of help available to him. Never in his life had he faced the challenges that had been thrust upon Libby.

  She wiped her mouth with a napkin and reapplied her lipstick. Watching her smooth on the sultry red color was an exercise in sexual frustration.

  When she looked up, she caught him staring. He must have put on a good show, because she didn’t appear to notice how close to the edge he was. Instead, she grimaced. “Let’s go see my building before I get cold feet.”

  The sentence would have made sense, even if the words had been literal. The temperature outside had to have dropped at least ten degrees since they had arrived in the city.

  He hailed another cab and looked at Libby. “You’ll have to give the address this time.”

  “Of course.” She nodded, her expression hard to decipher. But as they whizzed through the streets of the city, he saw her anxiety level rise.

  When he took one of her hands in his, it was ice-cold. “Where are your gloves?”

  “I didn’t have any that matched this coat, and I wanted to look nice for your business associates.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Libby. Here. Take mine.” The ones in the pocket of his overcoat were old and well-worn, but they were leather, lined with cashmere. At least they would keep her warm in transit.