Ms. Bravo and the Boss

by Christine Rimmer

  Because she had to stay. Now that he’d found her, there was no way he could lose her. He’d never find another assistant like her.

  She left even Anna in the dust. And it wasn’t only her ability to type while he shouted and threw things. Elise had great instincts when it came to the story, to the characters. Yeah, he got advice and feedback on the books from Carl and Holly, from his virtual assistant and a number of copy editors and beta readers. But he’d never had anyone to bounce things off of day-to-day before. He didn’t give his trust easily; critique groups and writing buddies weren’t for him.

  If he lost Elise...

  But he wouldn’t.

  The woman loved him. He saw it when he looked in those dark eyes of hers. She’d even said it in bed the night of her brother’s wedding. True, she’d been having an orgasm at the time. But he knew that she’d meant it by the nervous glances she’d sent him later, by the way she’d watched him the next morning at breakfast, shy and sweet. Hopeful, but not really ready to talk about it yet—or at least, that was how he’d read her signals that morning.

  Had he read her all wrong about loving him, too?

  He didn’t think so. She cared for him. He knew she did. And she wanted to stay with him.

  Now he just had to make her see that she should stay with him professionally as well as personally. He needed to get her to admit that there was no way throwing parties for strangers could beat what he had to offer her, financially speaking. And creatively, too.

  “I just thought I ought to let you know,” said Holly.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’ve still got time to change her mind.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “And, hey. Think of it this way. If it doesn’t work out, you were looking for an assistant when you found her.”

  For that, Holly got his deadliest stare. “She’s not going back to catering, don’t worry.”

  Holly let out a slow breath. “Well, good. Because frankly, we’ve already learned the hard way that there aren’t a whole lot of assistants who have what it takes to type your books for you.”

  Chapter Ten

  When Jed slid onto the bar stool beside her, Elise leaned into his solid strength. Loving him was a revelation to her. All he had to do was move in close and the world got warmer and brighter.

  She asked, “Everything all right with Holly?”

  He wrapped an arm around her and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Fine. She had some suggestions for the interview tomorrow—how’s the Irish coffee?”

  “Delicious.”

  “Want another?”

  When she shook her head, he grabbed her hand and pulled her out into the slightly sticky warmth of the August night.

  It was a little after ten. They strolled around Times Square for a while. Elise enjoyed the lights and hurrying crowds.

  But she liked it even more when he took her back to the hotel, peeled off her tight black dress and showed her how glad he was that she’d come to New York with him.

  The next day, they had room service for breakfast. Jed had a visit to his publisher’s offices at eleven, followed by a working lunch with Holly, the publicity team and more publishing executives, so Elise had several hours on her own.

  She spent some “me” time in the hotel spa, had a room-service lunch and then took a cab to Bloomingdale’s, where she spent more of her recently hard-earned cash than she probably should have on a new flared skirt, silk top and sexy high-heeled shoes to wear to the NY at Night taping at five.

  A limo took her to the studio, where she was ushered to a great seat on the aisle in the third row. Jed had the first guest slot after Drew Golden’s monologue.

  And Jed was good. Really good. He seemed totally relaxed, joking with Drew Golden as though the two of them were BFFs from birth. After a quick synopsis of Jed’s personal history, from growing up as the only son of a bona fide survivalist, to a little about his years in the service, they talked about the first Jack McCannon book and how each one had sold better than the last.

  Jed leaned back in his chair with one ankle hitched across his other knee and joked about the ways to kill people. “Because I have to tell you, Drew. Jack McCannon knows them all.”

  They talked about the potential for a series of McCannon movies. Jed said that he and his team were working on that. And then Golden had questions about the development of the McCannon character through the books so far, about what would change in Jack’s life going forward.

  Jed said, “Jack will be meeting a woman he can’t walk away from, a woman who changes the direction of his life.”

  Drew Golden chuckled. “Is it possible that life is paralleling fiction here?”

  Jed put it right out there. “Absolutely.”

  “Can you tell us about her?”

  “Only that she’s brilliant and beautiful, that nothing gets past her and I don’t know how I ever got along without her. I even like her damn cat. And I hate cats.”

  That got a laugh and also a round of enthusiastic applause.

  Blushing, Elise clapped, too. She felt like the heroine of her own personal romantic movie. Jed not only cared about her, but he was also willing to say so in front of a nationwide audience.

  After the show, a production assistant came and led her backstage, where Jed was waiting. He put his arm around her and nuzzled her hair. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

  She confessed, “I spent way too much money in Bloomingdale’s.”

  He pulled her closer and whispered, “I like your new clothes, but I like what’s under them even better.”

  She shook a finger at him. “Later for that.” And then she smoothed the collar of his sport coat, feeling tender and fond and so very proud of him. “It went so well. You were really good.”

  “Did I say too much?” He sounded almost hesitant.

  And she was blushing all over again. “Not too much. No way.” She put a hand to her heart. “I’m keeping those words you said right here, storing them up, you know? To remember for all of my life.” And then she couldn’t resist a little teasing. “Especially the part about how you actually like Wigs.”

  He introduced her to the publicist and one of the NY at Night producers. Feeling dazed and happy and out of her element, but not really in a bad way, she smiled and said how great it was to meet them.

  Finally, Jed took her out through a door backstage. The guy from the publicity department went with them, but then flagged down a cab and left.

  Elise watched him go. “So...dinner with more publishing people?”

  He shook his head. “Tonight and tomorrow, it’s just you and me.”

  * * *

  As it turned out, Jed didn’t write a single word that weekend. He wanted a little time apart with Elise and he took it.

  They had dinner that night at his favorite café in the Village. And Saturday, they visited the Arms and Armor collection at the Met, took the subway to the best pizzeria in Bedford-Stuyvesant and had dinner in a rooftop garden, the guests of a writer friend of his in Queens.

  Saturday night, he kept her up very late. He couldn’t get enough of her, really. Sexually, she managed to be shy and adventurous, funny and alluring all at the same time. They made love on just about every available surface in the hotel suite and when she finally fell asleep in his arms, he brushed the tangled hair off her forehead and tried to decide how to deal with what Holly had told him.

  He still had two months until his deadline. Should he bring it up now, ask Elise to reconsider their original agreement, to think about what would sweeten the pot enough to make her give up on the damn catering thing and stay on with him? Or should he play it out to the end and knock her socks off with some kind of terrific, irresistible offer she couldn’t refuse? Whatever the hell that might be...

 
On the flight home to Justice Creek, he was still trying to decide which way to go.

  Elise noticed. Which shouldn’t have surprised him. It was one of the many things he loved about her. Nothing got by her for long.

  He was staring off toward the door to the cockpit, endlessly considering his limited options, when she asked if something was bothering him.

  It was a good opening. But he wasn’t ready to make his move yet—mainly because he hadn’t decided what that move should be. “Just working through a few plot points.”

  “I’m here if you need to talk about it.”

  I’m here...

  Exactly. And she needed to stay here. With him, in every way. If only he could figure out how to make her see that.

  * * *

  The Thursday following the New York trip, when Elise checked her phone right after lunch, she found a text from Biff Townley.

  I thought about what you said, Elise. And you were right. I have your money. Where should I send the check?

  She didn’t know whether to be pleased that he was finally coming through, angry that she’d had to tell him off to get him to pay up...or worried that maybe he couldn’t really afford to give her the money back.

  Pleased, she decided. Biff had borrowed that money over a year ago and he’d promised to return it to her within a month or two. It wasn’t her problem how he’d finally come up with it.

  So she texted back a thank-you and Jed’s address. She’d had most of her bills and correspondence rerouted here. That way she didn’t have to stop by her apartment every Sunday before making a run to the bank or whatever.

  Plus, the way things were going between her and Jed now, she might never move back. She grinned like a fool at the thought.

  Her phone beeped. Another text from Biff: I saw your boyfriend on NY at Night. The guy’s really gone on you, huh?

  I’m gone on him, too, so it’s working out great.

  They say he’s a little bit crazy.

  Elise scowled at the phone. Biff was way more annoying than she’d ever realized before. She replied, Yeah. In a very good way.

  Ha, ha. I get why he’s gone on you. You looked amazing at the wedding. Sexy. That bit of total squickiness was followed by a heart-eyes emoji that had Elise full-out gaping at her phone.

  Biff Townley texting a move on her? That was just wrong.

  What are you up to, Biff?

  I told you at the wedding. I miss you. Meet me for coffee? It’s been too long since we really talked.

  Did you somehow not get that I’m with Jed now?

  What? He doesn’t let you see your old friends?

  Where was this going? No place good. She texted back a final That was uncalled-for. You have the address. Send the check. Goodbye, Biff.

  She hit Send and tossed the phone on the bed. If he came back with one more word of douche-baggery, she would block him and good riddance—even if he never gave her money back.

  * * *

  “Trust me?” Jack tried a reassuring smile. Sadika only stared at him, her incomparable face far too composed. “We have no choice. We have to jump.”

  Did she understand? Did she even hear him? He held those dazed eyes of hers for a count of five that they really couldn’t afford. K’s men were coming.

  “No choice,” he repeated, not happy with their chances. The river below ran cold and swift, ready to suck them under. But K’s men would not be gentle, either. He wrapped her arms around his neck, lifted her and guided those long legs around his waist. “Hold on good and tight. Do not let go.”

  “Okay, what’s the matter?” Jed watched Elise type the question and realized he’d failed to give the signal to stop. “Elise.” Her fingers stopped moving. She assumed her waiting pose. It was a thing of beauty—her hands poised, shoulders relaxed. “We’re taking a break.”

  She glanced up at him then. “Why? I think it’s fine. Moving right along. What’s not working for you?”

  He looked down at her sweet upturned face. “It’s you.”

  “Huh?”

  “Something’s bugging you. What?”

  She gave him an eye roll and gestured at the screen. “Take a look. I don’t think I missed a word you said.”

  “I know you didn’t. You never do. But you were biting your lip. You even wrinkled your nose.”

  She laughed. “Wrinkled my nose?” She pressed her hand to her chest and faked a gasp. “No wonder you stopped me.”

  “You’re trying really hard to blow me off. It’s not working. Talk.”

  “Jed...” The woman could put a world of exasperation into the three little letters that made up his name.

  “Come on.” He held down his hand.

  She eyed it warily. “Where?”

  “Out to the catio. The sun is shining and your damn cat is always happy to see you.” She laid her fingers in his and he pulled her up from the chair.

  Outside, they sat on the sofa with the cat stretched out and purring on Elise’s other side. She petted the big creature in long strokes, from his head to his tail. A smile curved her lips, but her eyes were far away.

  “I’m waiting,” he said.

  * * *

  Elise sagged back against the cushions. She had been distracted back there in the office. She kept thinking what a complete jerk Biff was.

  And she’d kind of decided not to mention the texts to Jed. After all, she’d handled Biff. And Jed really was kind of a caveman. She had no idea how he’d react when he heard that Biff had put a move on her, even if it was only via text.

  Jed hooked his big arm around her and pulled her closer. She settled her head on his shoulder. “Talk, Elise.”

  She gave in and told him. “I had a text from Biff Townley when I checked my phone at lunchtime.”

  Jed pressed his lips against her hair. “And?”

  “He asked for an address so he could send me a check.”

  “So that’s good news, then.”

  She sighed. “Yeah.”

  “Which doesn’t explain why you were wrinkling your nose during the bridge scene.”

  “He pissed me off, okay?”

  “How?”

  She glanced up at Jed again. He was being wonderful and she was making him work for every smallest bit of information. She made up her mind. “Wait right here. I’ll get my phone and show you.”

  He let her go without comment.

  When she came back outside, Wigs was snuggled up close to him, purring louder than before.

  She stopped at the sofa but she didn’t sit down. “I’m going to show you these texts and you’re not going to do anything about them.”

  He stared up at her, simultaneously lazy and predatory, the way Wigs sometimes watched the birds beyond the patio. If Jed had a tail, it would be twitching.

  She added, “I’ve already handled the situation. There really is nothing for you to do.”

  He held out his hand. “Just give me the phone, Elise.”

  She dropped down next to him on the side Wigs wasn’t already occupying, punched up the conversation in question and handed it over. He read it through quickly and passed the phone back to her.

  “Well?” she demanded.

  “The guy’s a dirtball. It’s not news—and you’re right. You handled it. I promise not to hunt him down and punch his lights out. If I happen to run into him on the street, though, all bets are off.”

  “Thank you. I think.”

  He hooked his arm around her neck and drew her close to him again, pressing his nose to her cheek, breathing in, scenting her. “He’s not worth biting your lip over.”

  “You don’t get it.”

  “So explain it to me.”

  “I thought he was a basically good guy, okay? I used to
consider him a dear friend. I would cook beautiful dinners for him and listen to him go on and on about how awful his wife was. And I would sympathize and top off his wineglass. Like she was the problem. I didn’t even know Biff’s wife, really, and I said a lot of bad things about her, and now I have to face the fact that she’s probably the one I should have been feeling sorry for. I had my head up my ass for years, you know? And every time I have to face more evidence of my own past idiocy, it makes me want to scream.”

  He tightened his arm around her neck, pulling her close again so he could touch his warm lips to her ear. His beard scruff tickled in the loveliest way. “Go ahead. Scream.”

  She elbowed him in the side. “Next you’ll be giving me knives to throw.”

  “For that, there would have to be training.” His low voice sent hot shivers racing across the surface of her skin. “That could be interesting, training you.”

  “Training me.” She turned her head and kissed him, just a quick one, because she couldn’t resist. “You make that sound really dirty.”

  He moved then, turning and rising in one seamless motion, his hand sliding down her arm to capture her wrist.

  With a squeak of surprise, she found herself slung over his shoulder, blinking down at the patio stones. She hit him on the hard curve of his perfect butt because it was in easy range.

  He grunted. “Do that again.”

  “I just might. And I shouldn’t have to remind you that we have a page goal to meet.”

  “And we will. But first, I need to show you something up in my room.”

  “Let me guess. Your bed.”

  He didn’t even bother to answer, just banded his arm around her dangling legs and headed for the French doors.

  They met Deirdre on the way up the stairs. Elise realized she wasn’t the least concerned that the housekeeper had finally witnessed the sight of Jed carrying her off to his lair.

  Because, well, why shouldn’t he carry her up to his room? She loved him and she was pretty sure he loved her, too, even if they hadn’t actually talked about that yet. And come on, she slept in Jed’s room. Deirdre had to have figured that out by now, anyway.