How to Sleep with the Boss

by Janice Maynard

  “Do you trust me, Libby?”

  “Of course, I do.”

  “Close your eyes.”

  “But I...”

  “Close them.”

  She obeyed the command, quivering in his grasp. “What are you going to do?”

  “Hush, Libby.”

  She sensed him moving, and then she arched her back in instinctive protest when she felt his hands spread her legs apart. Moments later, his warm breath gave her the first warning of what he was about to do seconds before she felt the rough pass of his tongue on her sex.

  A groan ripped from her gut, shocked pleasure swamping her inhibitions. She tried to escape, even so. But he locked her legs to the rug and continued his lazy torture.

  She came more than once...loudly. And in the end, she barely had the breath to whisper his name when he moved inside her and drove them both insane...

  * * *

  It was still dark when Libby awoke. She was sore and satiated but oddly uncertain. Some sound had dragged her from a deep sleep. Patrick breathed quietly at her back, his arms wrapped around her waist, his face buried in her hair.

  “Patrick,” she said, turning to face him. “I think your phone is vibrating.” It had to be bad. No good news ever came at...what was it? Four in the morning?

  Her companion grumbled, but reached for his phone on the bedside table. “What?”

  Patrick sat straight up in bed. “How bad is it?”

  The tone in his voice alarmed her. “What’s wrong?”

  He ignored her until he finished the call. “It’s Mia...Dylan’s wife. She’s in the hospital with a ruptured appendix. And there are complications.”

  “Oh, no...”

  “There’s nothing we can do to help.”

  “Are you trying to convince me or you? Come on, Patrick. You know we need to go back. At least we can be there to lend moral support. People die from a ruptured appendix sometimes. Dylan must be out of his mind.”

  “Thank you for understanding,” he said quietly.

  They barely spoke as they gathered up their things and dressed. Patrick hardly acknowledged Libby’s presence. She forgave him his silence, though, because she knew what it was like to be sick with fear.

  A car waited for them when they exited the hotel. Apparently nothing ruffled the overnight desk clerk, even guests rushing out with their hair askew and wearing rumpled clothing from the night before.

  At the airport, the pilot was ready. The flight back to Silver Glen seemed endless. Patrick stared out the window. Libby dozed. By eight in the morning, they were touching down on the new airstrip.

  James was waiting for them, the car warm and toasty, despite the frigid early-morning air. As James stowed their bags into the trunk, Patrick helped Libby into the backseat and then joined James up front.

  “How is she?” Patrick asked. “And tell me what happened. I didn’t wait for details earlier when Liam contacted us.”

  James grimaced. “Apparently, she started having severe pain sometime after midnight, but she didn’t wake up Dylan, because she didn’t want to have to get Cora out of bed. By three thirty, it was so bad she had no choice. Dylan didn’t take her. She went by ambulance. She’s in surgery right now.”

  “Damn it, women are stubborn.”

  “Yeah.”

  Libby stayed silent in the backseat, hearing the concern in the siblings’ voices...and the faintest hint of panic. These were big strong men. But they loved their sisters-in-law and treated them as blood relations, integral parts of this large, tight-knit family.

  At the hospital, Libby staked out a seat in the waiting room and tried to become invisible. Through the glass walls adjacent to the corridor she had seen Maeve, the brothers and most of their wives from time to time, pacing the halls. Still wearing her coat to cover her inappropriate clothing, Libby closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall. This setting brought back too many painful memories of her mother’s early suicide attempts.

  When Patrick finally sought her out, almost two hours had elapsed. He plopped down in a chair across from her and rested his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Wearing his tux pants and wrinkled white shirt, he looked exhausted.

  “Patrick?” Alarm coursed through her veins. “Did something go wrong? Is Mia okay?”

  He sat up slowly, his expression taut with stress. “She’s going to be. At least I hope so. The surgery went well, but infection is a concern. She was in recovery for forty-five minutes. They’ve brought her up to a room now. We’ve been taking turns going in to see her.”

  “How is she?”

  “Cranky at the moment. She hates being out of control.”

  “I’m sure it’s scary for her.”

  “Yeah.” He pushed his hair from his forehead, his eyes weary, but laden with something else, as well. “Dylan is an absolute wreck.”

  At that moment, Maeve walked into the waiting room. Normally, Patrick’s mother was the epitome of vigor and elegance, never a hair out of place. This morning, however, she looked every bit her age.

  Patrick jumped up. “Here. Take my seat, Mom. I’m going to find some coffee.”

  Maeve managed a smile, but her hands trembled as she sat down and looked at Libby. “It’s a hard thing to watch your children suffer. My poor Dylan is stoic, but I was afraid he was going to have a heart attack. He loves Mia deeply. And I do, too, of course. A man’s love for his wife, though, is a sacred thing.”

  “I’m so glad it looks like Mia is going to be okay.”

  “Would you mind driving me home, dear? I told Patrick I was going to ask you. He’s already had your things sent up to the lodge.”

  “Are you okay, Maeve?” The older woman was definitely pale.

  Maeve nodded. “I’m fine. Just a little shaky, because I never ate breakfast. My car is in the parking lot.”

  They made their way downstairs, pausing to speak to various members of the family. But Patrick had not returned. As they exited the hospital, Libby’s stomach growled. “Would you like to stop at the diner for a meal?”

  “Actually, that sounds wonderful. Thank you, dear.”

  The little restaurant wasn’t crowded. Maybe because it wasn’t a weekday. Libby and Maeve grabbed a booth and ordered bacon and eggs with a side of heart-shaped pancakes in honor of the holiday. Coffee and orange juice came out ahead of the food. Libby drained her cup in short order, hoping the jolt of caffeine would kick in soon. Maeve did the same, but she eyed Libby over the rim.

  “I’m glad you suggested breakfast, Libby. I wanted to ask how the New York weekend went. I see you’re still wearing that lovely dress.”

  Libby drew the collar of her coat closer together, thankful that the temperatures justified her attire. “We left in such a hurry this morning, we both just grabbed our clothes from last night.”

  Maeve’s smile was knowing. “I wasn’t making a judgment call...merely commenting. So tell me...did things go well?”

  “The orientation at Peabody Rushford was fascinating. Although it wasn’t for my benefit, I learned a lot.”

  Maeve shook her head, her dark eyes sharp with interest. “I’m not really asking about Patrick’s business dealings. My son is an astute entrepreneur. I would expect no less. Mine was a more personal question.”

  Most people wouldn’t have the guts to pry. But Maeve was not most people. Libby could do nothing about the flood of heat that washed from her throat to her hairline. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  The server delivered the food. Libby scooped a forkful of eggs, hoping the distraction would derail Maeve’s interrogation.

  But Patrick’s mother was like a dog with a bone...a very tasty bone. “I don’t expect a blow-by-blow description, but I would like to know if the two of you connected on an intimate level.�
� She locked her steady gaze with Libby’s flustered one.

  Blow-by-blow? Good grief. Libby managed to swallow the eggs that had solidified into a lump in her throat. “Um...yes, ma’am. We did.”

  “But?”

  “But what?”

  “You hardly seem the picture of a young woman who has been swept off her feet by romance.”

  “I haven’t had much sleep, Maeve. It’s a long way from New York.”

  “Give Patrick a chance,” Maeve begged. “I know he doesn’t go in for big gestures and declarations of undying passion, but he’s a deep man. You can unpeel the layers if only you’ll be patient.”

  Libby reached across the table and took Maeve’s hand, squeezing it for a moment. Then she sat back in the booth and sighed. The delicious breakfast had lost its appeal. “Patrick is an amazing man. But he’s been very honest with me from the beginning, and I have to honor that. For you to interfere or for me to weave daydreams based on nothing at all, would be wrong.”

  Maeve’s face fell. “But you care about him?”

  “Of course I do. He’s a lovely man. But that doesn’t make us soul mates, Maeve.”

  “I don’t want my son to spend his life alone.”

  Tears glistened in Maeve’s eyes. Given Patrick’s mother’s talents for benign manipulation, Libby had to wonder if the tears were genuine. But then again, Maeve was capable of deep feeling. Everything she did came from a place of abundant love.

  “Some people like being alone, Maeve. I know tons of single people who are very happy and content with their lives. Patrick has a rewarding career and a circle of intimate friends. You can’t box him into a relationship corner he doesn’t want or need.”

  “You sound awfully wise for a young woman of your age.”

  “Life is a tough teacher.”

  “So what you’re telling me is that you won’t even consider letting yourself fall in love with my son because he’s told you he doesn’t want to get married.”

  “That’s about the sum of it. I may stay for the duration of Charlise’s leave...as long as things don’t get awkward. But I’ve already told Patrick that I’m thinking of going back to New York permanently. This weekend’s trip told me I can handle it. I wasn’t sure, to be honest. I didn’t want to think about my mother’s death and my father’s crime every second of every day. But I think it’s going to be okay.”

  “Well...” Maeve scowled at a strip of bacon. “It sounds like you know your own mind.”

  “Yes, ma’am. And don’t worry about Patrick. He knows what he wants and what he doesn’t want.”

  Maeve leaned forward. “So what does he want?”

  “He wants to build his life here...among family. He wants to be close to you and his brothers, and their wives and children, both physically and emotionally. He wants to grow Silver Reflections and know that he’s making a difference in people’s lives. He wants to spend time in the mountains and to draw strength from this place you all call home.”

  “For a woman who hasn’t found her soul mate, you surely sound as if you know a great deal about my son.”

  “Stop it, Maeve. I’m serious. This last year has taught me that I can’t always bend the world to my will. I have to accept reality and deal with it as best I can. And even under those circumstances—sometimes difficult, sometimes tragic—I can be happy. Or at least content.”

  Maeve held up her hands. “You’ve convinced me. I’m officially done with playing Cupid...though it’s awfully hard to say that on his special day.”

  Libby laughed, finishing her meal with a lighter heart. “Maybe we should be worrying about you, Maeve. You’re still very youthful and attractive. I’m sure there are tons of eligible men out there who would like to find a woman like you.”

  Maeve blanched. “If that’s blackmail, I stand forewarned. I like my life the way it is. I had one husband. That was enough.”

  “If you say so. Now please pass the syrup, let’s finish breakfast so I can go back to the lodge and get out of these clothes.”

  Sixteen

  Patrick kicked a log, not even flinching when pain shot from his toe up his leg. He liked the pain. It helped distract him from the turmoil in the rest of his body. It had been over twenty-four hours since he had seen Libby. Longer than that since they’d had sex. He was like a junkie jonesing for the next hit.

  But therein lay his problem. He had to stay away from her.

  The conviction had been born in an intimate New York hotel room and solidified in the antiseptic corridors of a hospital. He couldn’t afford to fall in love with Libby Parkhurst. It was too dangerous.

  Little memories of Friday slipped into his thoughts when his guard was down. The smell of her hair on his pillow. The humorous, self-deprecating way she spoke to his clients about sleeping in the great outdoors. Her delighted laughter as she tipped her face toward the sky while snowflakes fell on her soft cheeks.

  Even the way she hugged an old man in a uniform and let him know that he was important in her life.

  Libby made everything brighter, more special. If he’d been inclined to find a lover and hang on to her, that woman might be Libby. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

  Without realizing it, he’d been on his way to changing his life plan. Having Libby in his bed, turning him inside out, had begun to convince him that he might be smarter about marriage a second time. After all, he wasn’t a kid anymore.

  But then yesterday happened. Mia’s emergency surgery. Patrick knew his brother Dylan as a laid-back, comfortable-with-the-world, confident man. But in Dylan’s eyes yesterday, Patrick had seen raw terror. With the woman Dylan loved in danger, Patrick’s older brother had been helpless...scared sick that he was going to lose his whole world.

  Patrick didn’t want that kind of responsibility or that kind of grief. He remembered well the bitter taste of failure and loss when his youthful marriage ended, and that was for a girl he hadn’t even loved.

  How much worse would it be if he let himself get addicted to Libby and then he lost her? Death. Divorce. Infidelity. There were any number of forces waiting to tear couples apart.

  Why would he subject himself to such vulnerability?

  The hours he’d spent with Libby in the Carlyle hotel had literally changed him. Her sweet, sultry beauty. Her gentleness. Her shy, eager passion. He could have wallowed in their lovemaking for days on end and never had enough.

  But when he broached the subject of extending their stay, Libby hadn’t jumped at the idea. Worse still, she’d spoken of returning to New York permanently. Of leaving Silver Glen. Of leaving him.

  It wasn’t too late to correct his mistakes. He hadn’t gone all the way into obsession. He could end this thing and walk away unscathed.

  But to do so meant suffering through one very unpleasant conversation. Today was Sunday. Thank God, Valentine’s Day had come and gone. There was no reason not to intercept Libby’s plans before she returned to Silver Reflections Monday morning.

  When he contemplated what he was about to do, the bottom fell out of his stomach. Much like the first time he’d stood atop the high dive as a ten-year-old and wondered if he had the guts to make the jump.

  He took out his cell phone and started to punch in a number. Libby carried a cheap pay-as-you-go phone. But at the last minute he remembered that Zoe was helping Libby get set up in the apartment over Dylan’s bar.

  The two of them had vowed to hit up thrift stores and outfit Libby’s new digs. Should he stop Libby before she spent any of her hard-earned cash on things she might not need?

  Damn it. He’d never had to deal with any of this with Charlise at his side.

  At last, he decided he had to make the call.

  Libby answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

  Her voice reached inside his chest and s
queezed his heart. “Are you and Zoe still occupied with your move?”

  “She had to cancel. But I may go over to the Silver Dollar later to get the lay of the land. What’s up, Patrick?”

  “We need to talk,” he said gruffly. “What if I pick up some sandwiches, and you and I go for a drive?”

  “It’s not really picnic weather,” she said, laughter in her voice.

  The day was infinitely dreary, sheets of rain drenching the mountains, temperatures hovering at a raw 38 degrees.

  “I know that,” he said. “But I’ve eaten in my car before. It won’t kill me.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Can you be ready in an hour?”

  “Of course.”

  “See you shortly.” Now that he had made up his mind, he wanted to get this thing done...

  * * *

  Libby had a good idea what was coming. Patrick was going to tell her that an intimate relationship was not a good idea since she was going to be working for him. The thing was, she sort of agreed.

  At this point in her life, she needed a good job more than she needed a love interest. Maybe in time this physical attraction between the two of them might blossom into something stronger...something lasting. She was a patient person. And if that were never going to happen, then she would be a big girl and face the truth.

  Despite her brave talk, the prospect of seeing Patrick again made her insides go wobbly. They had gone from sleeping in each other’s arms, to panic, to rushed travel to the hospital, to nothing. Patrick had left to get coffee, and that was the last she had seen of him.

  This afternoon, with one guarded phone call, he was evidently prepared to set her straight. A fling in New York was one thing. Now it would be back to business as usual.

  Since they weren’t going anywhere fancy, she dressed warmly in jeans, boots and a thick, forest green sweater. The pleasant weather when Patrick had taken her out in the woods was nothing but a memory. Winter had returned...with no sign of relenting.

  She was waiting on the front steps of the hotel when Patrick pulled up in his sporty sedan. It didn’t seem like a good idea to meet him inside where his mother might happen to see them and get the wrong idea.