Boss on Notice

by Janet Lee Nye

  He had the testing room set up in the second bedroom. As he got Travis settled part of him was listening to Mickie humming slightly off-key as she started the washer.

  “Your phone is buzzing,” she called out.

  “What’s it say?”

  Pause. “Unknown number.”

  “Ignore it.”

  He turned back to Travis. “There are two tests. They are both fairly long, about a hundred questions each. After the first is done, the second should load automatically. Let me know if it doesn’t. Bathroom is across the hall if you need, there’s no time limit. Get me if you have any problems or questions.”

  “It buzzed two more times,” Mickie said as he returned to the kitchen. She stopped, turned, looked back and met his gaze directly. “Both unknowns so I ignored them.”

  “Thanks.”

  “If it’s okay, I’ll just leave the duffel here. I’ve got another load.”

  “That’s fine.”

  As she worked the stroller out the back door, she said, “Thanks again.”

  “No problem.”

  He watched her leave, a little dizzy with the whirl of desire he was feeling. Part of him wanted to put an arm around her and help solve all her problems, while the other wanted to lift her up on the washer and step between those legs and...

  The phone buzzed and the doorbell rang. Shit. It was DeShawn on the phone. And at the door was his next applicant, early for his interview. Of course. So, while the interviewee cooled his heels on the couch, Josh talked DeShawn through getting the behavior contract signed with a touchy client. Mickie came and went, doing an exaggerated tiptoe across the room that made him smile.

  When she came back next, he was on his third interview. Travis was finishing up his testing, applicant number two was beginning his test and Josh was about to take a hammer to the phone. She gave a quick wave and began to fold the laundry from the dryer. Josh found it hard to fully concentrate on his interview with the motion of her body and the sway of her long hair in the periphery of his vision. The phone buzzed again. He reached out, but Mickie scooped the phone off the table.

  “The Cleaning Crew, this is Mickie. How may I help you?”

  Josh’s mouth dropped open for a second and he snapped it shut. What the heck was she doing? And good God, where did that phone-sex voice come from?

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you so much. Mr. Sanders is in a meeting right now. If you’d like to leave your name and number, I will have him get in touch with you for an estimate.”

  She made a writing motion with her free hand. Josh handed her his pen. She snatched a page of a résumé off the desk and began to write. When she hung up, he lifted his hands, palms up, not quite sure how he felt about it. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  She smiled and reached across the table to steal one of the stacks of yellow legal tablets he liked to use for to-do lists. “Paying for the laundry,” she said.

  She maneuvered the stroller into the living room and came back to gather her clean clothes in her arms before returning to the living room. Josh turned his attention back to the poor guy who’d just had his interview interrupted at least a dozen times. He’d deal with Mickie in a minute. When he was done. She knew nothing about his business. She should not be answering phones and dealing with customers. True, a part of him said, but is it worse than sending them to voice mail? And he couldn’t ignore how much more smoothly he got the interview and testing done without the nagging buzz of the phone. An hour later, he shut the door as the last of the three finished. Mickie handed him the legal tablet.

  “This column here,” she said as her finger traced down the page, “is people who want an estimate on cleaning services. This one was guys looking for information on applying. This was your boss, I think. Sadie, right? She’s your boss?”

  “Yeah,” he said. She’d answered—he skimmed the list—ten phone calls. Ten people who got a person to talk to, not a voice mail. “What did Sadie want?”

  Hell, he really did wonder. Sadie was adamant about maintaining a professional demeanor at all times. What was she about to say about him letting his next-door neighbor take calls?

  “Well, she was a little surprised when I answered,” Mickie said. She smiled, as if recalling a private joke. “But I explained. She said I had a great phone voice. Said to tell you it wasn’t urgent, she was just checking to see how you were doing. Oh, and to call her back at your convenience.”

  “Thanks.”

  She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and smiled. A real smile. A pleased-with-herself smile. It lit up her eyes like sunshine glinting off glacier ice. Something in him warmed at the sincerity in that smile. He couldn’t look away from it. Didn’t want to look away. Anything to keep that warmth spreading like a balm over aches he didn’t know he had.

  “Mamamamama!”

  Ian’s demand for attention doused the warmth with icy reality. She had a kid. A baby. She’d want a father for Ian. The one thing he was never going to be.

  “Shhh, Ian. I know it’s time for lunch,” Mickie said. Her fingers were warm as she briefly touched his arm. “Thanks again for letting me use the washer and dryer.”

  “Sure. No problem. Anytime.”

  The words fell out of his mouth because his mind was churning. The touch, that smile. The kid. The old fears. And a completely preposterous idea was trying to surface. No. He tried to push it away, but it held its ground.

  He needed a secretary. Mickie needed a job.

  A tight huff of laughter tore from his throat. “Great idea, Josh,” he said aloud. Have her in here all day, every day? No. Just no.

  An hour later, he’d returned all the phone calls, set up appointments to meet with the potential clients, redirected the applicants to the on-line application page and successfully managed to not call Sadie back. Mickie, however, stayed on his mind. One of the most important things the Cleaning Crew looked for in an employee was initiative. You see a problem or a need, you take care of it. Mickie had done just that. Plus, she knew she didn’t know enough about the business, so she limited herself to merely taking messages. Common sense.

  Sure, common sense and initiative. And that hair he’d like to get his hands in. Those lips he’d like to taste. Eyes he’d like to drown in. And a kid. He stood and paced to the fridge. You need food. You are not thinking straight. You should be running as fast as you can. She and Ian deserve way better than the likes of you. Yet one phone call later, he was knocking on her back door.

  “Is everything okay? I got you in trouble, didn’t I? I’m so sorry. I was just trying to help.” The words poured out of her the moment she opened the door.

  “No. Wait. What?”

  She put a hand over her heart. “You look so serious. I thought your boss was mad.”

  “No. Um. That’s not why I came over,” he stammered. He took a deep breath. Get it over with. “Do you want a job?”

  The play of emotions across her face brought back that feeling of warmth. A blink as she took in the words. Surprise as the meaning set in and a moment between the surprise and the huge smile that almost broke his heart. A moment of relief so immense that even he felt the weight of it lifting.

  “Yes! Really? Are you serious?”

  “Yes. I need office help. It’ll be cash under the table. Answer phones. Run the computer testing for the applicants. Stuff like that.”

  “Yes. I can do that. Just show me what to do and I’ll do it.”

  He smiled, unable to not return the joyous grin on her face. “Okay. Come on over around nine tomorrow and we’ll get you started.”

  “Yes! I’ll be there.”

  Then her arms were around him, squeezing tight. Her cheek pressed against him. Whoa, wow. Could she feel the way his heart jumped when she did that? Without consent from his brain, his hands slipped around h
er shoulders. She seemed so tiny, as if he could wrap his arms twice around her. He should step back. He should not be doing his. Instead, he dipped his head to take in the scent of her hair.

  “You don’t know what this means to me,” she said as she pushed away.

  His arms felt cold and empty without her there. He pushed the thought away. “I think I do,” he said. “See you tomorrow.”

  He walked back to his apartment with a smile. That had felt good. Helping her. Remembering his own relief when Sadie had offered him a job after she’d found out he was fresh out of the foster-care system, he shook his head. He wouldn’t have hired himself back then. He’d been angry and stupid. But Sadie had seen something in him. And now he was just trying to pay it back.

  * * *

  MICKIE SPUN IN circles across the kitchen floor and scooped Ian out of his high chair. “Mommy has a job, baby man! A real job!”

  She danced them around the kitchen to the tune of “Mommy’s got a job,” giddy with the release of the ever-constant worry. Thank God. Now she could focus on what she needed to do before school started in the fall.

  “Everything is falling into place, Ian. Pretty soon, we’ll be sitting pretty. A new car. A house of our own. Everything.”

  She put Ian back in his chair and sat across from him. “Got a lot to do this afternoon. Call the day care and see if I can get you in now instead of when school starts. Grocery store. I need to go through my clothes and find something to wear on a job.”

  She began making a list. She loved lists. Their orderliness. The satisfaction of crossing off things done. As the emotional high of the sudden appearance of a job dissipated, she became aware of another feeling coursing quietly through her. It took a while to recognize it. Lust. Her long-lost sex drive decided to show up now? For her new boss? Not a good thing.

  The spontaneous hug was something the old her would have done. The new Mickie wasn’t so touchy-feely. And yet... It had been like hugging a tree. Solid, hard muscle had met her arms. So, you hugged him. So what? You were happy. Surprised. It was a hug. And he’d hugged her back. The low-grade desire flared up like a sunspot. Hot. Bright. His hands hesitantly skimming across her shoulders. Even if she could rationalize that away, there was no explanation for the brush of his cheek against her hair.

  The pen fell from her inattentive fingers and skittered off the table. She scrubbed her hands across her face. No. Just no. Don’t care how warm and squishy he makes you feel. Absolutely no men. She lifted her face to watch as Ian picked through his Cheerios. She could see enough of his father in him to always remember. He had his father’s dark curls and light brown eyes. She’d trained herself over the years to only see Ian, but now she needed the reminder. No men. Someday. When she would know...

  “Stop it,” she hissed under her breath. She stood, her legs feeling wobbly from the sudden wave of memories. Too far. She deliberately took a deep breath and let it out in a slow stream. Her insides went cold and a humming filled her head. Turning, she made her way to the stove, where she reached up into the high cabinet and found a plastic vial. Letting the panic prickle along her nerves, she focused on breathing. Air in. Air out. You aren’t wasting a Xanax on this. Focus.

  “Mama! Fins!”

  “You sure did finish it all.” She put the pill bottle away and shut the cabinet. She crossed back to the table and lifted Ian from his chair, ignoring the close call. She’d not had a full-out panic attack in over a year. “How about a field trip, my little man? See if you can go play with some friends tomorrow?”

  Hugging Ian tight and burying her face in his soft curls, she willed the tears back. What she really needed was her mother’s arms around her. She needed to talk to her. But that was something she never dared risk again, and that was that.

  * * *

  JOSH LOOKED SURPRISED when she tapped on the back door at exactly one minute to nine the next morning. She watched as he tossed the dish towel he was drying his hands with over his shoulder and popped the door open.

  “Where’s Ian?”

  “I got him in early at the day care where he’ll be when I start school.”

  “You could have brought him.”

  “No. It’s good for him to be around other kids,” she said, putting her bag down on the kitchen table. She smiled at Josh. “And for me to get out of mommy mode for a while.”

  “Now I’m going to have to raise your pay to cover day care,” he said, half-kidding. He was kidding, right?

  “Josh. You don’t have to do that. You’ve been so kind to us. A job is more than enough.”

  She stared up at him. His eyes were warm and a half smile lurked on his lips. Those lips that had brushed against her hair. Suddenly she was rendered temporarily incapable of drawing in a full breath. Oh, hell no. She crossed her arms and walked around him to the kitchen table. Simple. Just don’t look at him. Problem solved.

  Except it wasn’t. He came to stand beside her. Close beside her. Now she could smell him. Ivory soap and man. He bumped his arm against hers in a friendly gesture.

  “Listen, I’ve been there,” he said in a low voice. “Alone and just needing a lifeline tossed. Sadie did that for me. If I can help in any way, big or small, I’m only paying it back. Okay?”

  Tears clogged her throat and her vision went blurry for a moment before her warning system began wailing. Do not look vulnerable. Do not look weak. She straightened and smiled up at him. Wondered why he’d been alone. No, she couldn’t think of that right now.

  “Thank you. Now, I can only work until school starts in the fall. Is that going to be okay?”

  “That’s perfect. By then, I should have enough people trained to take over the office work myself.”

  “So, show me what to do.”

  * * *

  SHE WAS SMART. Josh noticed that immediately. He began with the Cleaning Crew philosophy and what his expectations were for both the crew and the customers. As he began outlining her responsibilities, she took a yellow legal tablet and began taking quick, efficient notes. A page for what to tell prospective customers. Another for what to tell applicants. When he showed her how to set up the personality testing, she asked to take the tests herself so she would be better prepared to answer questions. He found himself wishing he could hire her permanently.

  He also found himself wishing he could smell her hair again. Now he was wishing she’d brought Ian. That way, there’d be a messy, noisy reminder of why he needed to rein in his hormones. He had to get away from her.

  “I’m going to get some work done. You’re on telephone duty.”

  Through the morning, as he tried to get his inbox under some sort of control and wade through the accounting, her soft sexy voice drifted down the hall as she answered calls. Not helping his concentration. Thanks a lot, Lena. She probably made these forms as complicated as possible just to screw with him. A grin crossed his lips as he thought of Sadie’s best friend and financial manager. She was just as big a part of the Crew’s success as he was and she knew it. He couldn’t hate on her too hard.

  At noon, he wandered to the kitchen thinking about taking Mickie out for lunch. He stopped at the sight. The smell of Sharpie ink hung heavy in the air. She had a pile of file folders on the table and the stack of papers he’d dropped in the bottom drawer of the empty file cabinet. His I’ll-get-to-it-eventually pile.

  “What’s all this?”

  She smiled up at him and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I got bored waiting for phone calls. I found all these loose, so I’m making files for each client.” She tapped the papers. “These are your contracts, Josh. Both for services and the behavior agreement. They shouldn’t be lost.”

  An unexpected laugh appeared at the sight of her looking at him so sweetly yet so sternly. “You’re absolutely right. Thank you. It’s on my list of stuff to do.”

 
She held out a hand, palm up. “Give me the list. It’s what you’re paying me for.”

  “Later. Now it’s time for the first-day-of-work tradition of going out to lunch on the boss.”

  “Go out? For lunch? Like a real grown-up?” She clasped her hands to her cheeks. “I’m not sure if I remember how to do that.”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s one of those riding-a-bike kind of things.”

  He had planned on a quick run up to Subway, but seeing her reaction made him reevaluate. “Do you like Middle Eastern food?”

  “Don’t know. Never had it.”

  “Well, that settles it. Al-Amir on Main, it is. Uh, ever ridden a motorcycle?”

  “Nope.”

  “We can take the car if you want. Parking the bike is so much easier.”

  “If you have a helmet. I’d rather not splatter my brains across the street.”

  He laughed. “I wouldn’t put anyone on my bike without one.”

  * * *

  THIS WAS A day of firsts, it seemed. First day on the job. First time eating Middle Eastern food—whatever that was going to turn out to be—and the first time on the back of a motorcycle. Part of her was screaming-mommy horrified that she was putting Ian in jeopardy of becoming an orphan, but the other part was too busy realizing she was clinging to her new boss like a barnacle as he navigated the city streets. At a red light, he looked back at her.

  “Just relax. Lean when I lean.”

  Uh-huh. Not a single part of her relaxed. Not with her knees clamped against his hips and her hands clenching his middle. It was all she could do to keep her fingers from playing with the ridges of his abs. Happy for the helmet that covered her face, she gave in to a wicked smile for her thoughts. For the first time in a very long time, she was having fun. And feeling like a woman. The bike went over a small bump and she bounced forward, right up against that back. She clenched harder at his waist.

  “You okay back there?”

  “Yeah.”