The Boss's Daughter

by Jasmine Haynes

  And he wasn’t letting Ward get away with it. “Your cheeks are red like your mama caught you with your hand in the cookie jar.” He winked and lowered his voice. “Or up the little girl next door.”

  Ward gave a wry smile. That was close to the truth. He’d been caught watching the girl while she did it all. Caught? That implied something bad, yet Cassandra Montgomery had obviously enjoyed his voyeurism.

  “Jesus Christ,” Spence said softly. “If that smile means anything, you better tell me or I’ll have to break your fingers.”

  “I discovered Holt’s daughter in a compromising position.” He didn’t talk about his sexual exploits, mostly because he didn’t have many. Not that he would have discussed them anyway. Even Spence, who invariably found some hottie at a conference or a sales meeting, didn’t reveal all like a teenage boy. And they certainly wouldn’t talk disparagingly about the boss’s daughter.

  “Do tell.”

  “No specifics.” Ward was interrupted by the flight attendant coming through the cabin to check seatbelts. He’d forgotten to fasten his. The task done, he added, “But she had a profound effect on me.”

  Spence scrutinized him. “You want her?”

  Want. The word sounded so inadequate. He couldn’t stop the images playing in his brain like a movie loop. Her scent filled his head, her moans echoed in his ears. He didn’t want. He needed.

  He went for a more simple answer. “Yeah, I do.”

  “Are you worried about Holt?”

  He was more worried about being out of his depth. Spence would simply have gone for it. With him, it was the woman who was out of her depth. It had nothing to do with the fact that Spence was five years older than Ward. Spence exuded male confidence. Ward didn’t. He’d gotten married right out of college, and he was divorced five years later when his wife cheated on him with his best friend. At least that was the first time he figured out she was cheating. He’d had relationships since then, and he’d had his share of sex, too. But after finding his wife in bed with the friend who’d been best man at his wedding, Ward had never been confident and easygoing about sex and relationships the way Spence was. That probably made him a wimp, but a woman like Cassandra Montgomery would crush him flat. She was Spence’s match, not his.

  But he wasn’t about to let Spence get to her first.

  “Holt probably wouldn’t care,” Ward said. Especially if Ruby’s car in his driveway meant he was busy with his own hijinks.

  “Then what’s your problem? I say go for it.”

  The plane pulled away from the gate and taxied out to the runway.

  What was he asking for from Spence? Permission? Backup? He couldn’t remember a time he’d lusted after a woman the way he now did for Cassandra Montgomery. He didn’t need Spence’s thumbs up for that.

  He needed Spence’s confidence. His worldliness. His ability to make small talk with women. They were all the things Spence could never give him.

  You’re a wimp.

  Yes, he was. But for Cassandra, he was going to have to get over his natural reserve.

  * * * * *

  “So this is why you came in earlier than expected?” Holt nursed his beer as they sat on his back patio on Sunday afternoon.

  A lawn mower whirred to life next door, disturbing the quiet. Though Memorial Day was almost here and summer would soon be upon them, a cool spring breeze ruffled her hair. Cassandra preferred Bay Area weather to the heat of L.A. She was happy to move back here.

  “I’m asking for your help,” she told her father. “I can show you my business plan and the locations that I’m interested in.”

  Holt hadn’t arrived home until late last night, so she’d saved their discussion for today.

  Her time had been productive since Wednesday. She’d interviewed an accountant and was moving ahead on the necessary business licenses. She’d found a real estate agent that came highly recommended and had viewed several sites.

  “I can get started,” she told him, “but I don’t have sufficient capital to sustain things as the boutique grows.”

  “Do you want a loan or do you want an investor?

  She’d thought about that. “It’s my baby, and I want to run things my way. The decisions need to be mine.”

  “Contrary to public opinion,” he said dryly, “I don’t need to control everything.” Public opinion referred to a public of one, her mother Maria. Not that her parents didn’t get along despite the divorce, but her mom was quite opinionated. She was also the pot calling the kettle black, as the old saying went. Her mother certainly had her own controlling streak. Cassandra loved them both despite their faults.

  She smiled her acknowledgement. “Let’s meet with my accountant and discuss which is the better way to go for taxes, filing, all that stuff.”

  “If you’re going to incorporate—” Holt stopped, looked at her and diverted his thought. “Sounds good to me.”

  Mom was wrong. Holt wasn’t a control freak. At least not where Cassandra was concerned. “Thanks.”

  He patted her hand. “I’m glad you’re coming home.”

  Mom was on her third husband, a surgeon. They lived down in L.A. With her frequents trips to the Bay Area, in some ways it was like the dual parenting they’d done when she was a kid, shuffling her between houses, one week with Holt, one week with Mom. “I’m glad, too, Holt,” she said sweetly.

  She called him Holt while she always called her mother Mom. It had started in her college days, stating her independence. She’d only called her mother Maria for a week, until Mom had broken down into tears. Holt, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy the equality. She loved him no less; they were simply different.

  Smiling, his gaze on the back garden, which was blooming prettily with hydrangeas and azaleas, he said, “I hope you don’t mind that we’re having a guest for dinner.”

  A guest. She hadn’t been a night owl since she’d started working on making her business plan a reality, and she’d already been in bed when he arrived home last night. His car pulled in, and a little while later the Beemer pulled out. Seeing the Beemer in the driveway the first day, she’d assumed he’d bought a new car, though a sporty BMW was definitely not his style. She hadn’t asked whose car it was. But now she felt a little hiccup of...something.

  Her father hadn’t dated while she was growing up. There’d been no special woman or women. But she got a feeling now. She wasn’t so sure it was a good feeling. Maybe she was still Daddy’s little girl after all and didn’t want to share him.

  “Do I need to cook?” she asked.

  They both laughed. Beyond boiling water for spaghetti or making an omelet, Cassandra’s cooking skills were abysmal.

  “We’ll have take-out,” he assured her.

  She wondered if she should ask who. She wasn’t sure she even wanted to know.

  Two hours later she was absolutely sure she didn’t want to know.

  Ruby Williams passed her a bowl of shrimp in garlic sauce. They were on second helpings of both Chinese food and small talk. The dinner was take-out, sure, but Ruby had insisted on putting everything in china and eating formally at the dining room table.

  “Thank you.” Cassandra’s smile felt brittle on her face.

  When her father entertained or threw parties, Ruby was often his hostess. His dinners and gatherings were always work-related. She was his admin. It made sense. But what was she doing here now?

  “Ruby and I are getting married,” Holt said just before putting a forkful of fried rice in his mouth.

  Cassandra accidentally ladled the garlic shrimp into her wonton soup. “Oh.” It was all she could manage.

  Ruby was forty, only seven years older than Cassandra. They could have been sisters. She was tall, pretty, and curvy, with silky auburn hair. She was everything a red-blooded American male could want. If that American male wasn’t Cassandra’s father.

  “That’s wonderful.” Not so much. Her smile was definitely going to crack her face.

  Ruby smiled
with her ruby-colored lips. Her lipstick hadn’t even worn off with the soup and the mu shu and the other various dishes. “Thank you.”

  They were all so polite. Though they were seated, Holt didn’t touch Ruby, not even her hand. Beyond a peck on the cheek when she arrived, they hadn’t kissed.

  “We’re thinking about a September wedding,” Ruby said. “I don’t want to do June. Everyone does June. Besides, there’s not enough time to make all the arrangements.” The fork tines disappeared between her ruby lips and came back out empty without a single trace of lipstick.

  Holt smiled at her indulgently. “We could always do Tahoe or Las Vegas.”

  Ruby grimaced. “Tahoe would be fine, but Las Vegas is tacky.”

  “Don’t you want to have your picture taken in your wedding dress right under the Las Vegas sign?” Holt was mocking but not unkind.

  Ruby laughed and batted the air in front of his face. “Only if we have a limousine.” Her brown eyes sparkled like topaz gems.

  Cassandra couldn’t say she’d ever been fond of Ruby. Ruby was too much of everything, too much breast, her skirts too short, her tops too low-cut. And too many men. She might have been living with Clay Blackwell for the past four years, until he’d unceremoniously dumped her, but she certainly hadn’t been without her men for the duration. One evening when she’d stayed the night at an airport hotel before a very early morning flight out, Cassandra had seen Ruby. The man she’d been kissing and touching was not Clay. Cassandra had her share of men, too, but she wasn’t in a relationship. Her love of variety was one of the very reasons she’d never had a steady man. Ruby didn’t seem to know the difference. She didn’t want that kind of woman for her father. Ruby wasn’t special enough for Holt. She wouldn’t cherish him.

  “You can have a limousine anytime you want,” Holt assured Ruby. Cassandra had the sickening feeling there was a private message in that. “But if you want a September wedding,” he went on, “we can do that, too.”

  They looked at each other. No touching, no kissing, but something passed between them. Ruby’s face softened like a woman in...well...like a woman in love.

  Was it possible? Or was Ruby a consummate liar?

  Ruby pushed away her plate and laid down her napkin. “I’m just going to powder my nose and fix my lipstick.”

  It was an obvious ploy to leave Holt alone with Cassandra.

  Ruby expected Holt to talk her round. There was only one thing to say, though. She waited until Ruby had disappeared into the bathroom. “Are you sure, Dad?”

  He raised a brow at her use of the title. “Worried about your old father?”

  “You’re not old, and I’m not worried.” She just didn’t like the idea of Ruby using him. “But a daughter always needs to ask. Otherwise you’d think I don’t care about you.”

  He patted her hand. “I’m sure. She fits the man I am now. And I fit the woman she is.”

  But are you in love with her? Is she in love with you? Cassandra didn’t have the right to ask that, even if she had called him Dad. “She’s not going to be easy.”

  Holt laughed. “That’s the whole point. I don’t want easy.”

  Of course, there was the other meaning of the word, and easy was exactly what Ruby was. “Well, you’re a big boy and you know what you’re doing.”

  With a full head of gray hair, handsome patrician features, and a muscular body that would make even a man twenty years younger envious, what woman wouldn’t fall in love with him?

  “I can take care of myself, sweetheart.”

  She hoped he at least demanded a prenup. Whatever, it wasn’t her concern. And really, who was she to talk? She’d just discussed borrowing his money.

  There were a lot of things she should have asked. Instead, she said, “I wish you all the happiness.”

  “Thanks, sweetie.” He squeezed her hand, his gray eyes suddenly as solemn as a promise. “This is the best thing I’ve had in a long time. And it’s not a snap decision. So don’t you worry about me.”

  “All right, Holt, I won’t.”

  He pulled back, smiling again. “What, I’m not Dad anymore?”

  He would always be her father no matter what she called him. And if Ruby Williams hurt him in any way, Cassandra would make sure she paid.

  Chapter Three

  Cassandra Montgomery was utterly gorgeous, and she stole his breath the moment she entered Holt’s office. Her slim-fitting skirt, one side white, the other black, hugged her hips and made his mouth water. The suit jacket, its black versus white sides opposite to the skirt, was tailored to her shape and molded to her perfect breasts. She looked like something out of an old black-and-white forties film, a femme fatale. And he was the stooge that fell head over heels for her.

  “Have you met my daughter?” Holt flourished a hand toward her.

  Ward stood. He’d come to Holt’s office for a brief Monday-morning recap of the investors’ conference. He hadn’t expected her. She robbed him of speech. She made his face overheat and steamed up his glasses. She turned him into an idiot.

  “We met the other day, Holt.” She smiled with painted lips he wanted all over him.

  Her father didn’t seem to mind that she used his given name. “Now that you say it,” Holt said, “Ward mentioned he’d seen you when he arrived at the conference.” Holt gave him the eye. The man knew something was up.

  “Yes, I helped him find your computer.”

  Ward still hadn’t said a word. “Thank you.” He was such a magnificent wordsmith.

  She widened her eyes and shot him a cocky little smile. “He was so appreciative. Couldn’t thank me enough for what I’d done for him.”

  Jesus. What she’d done for him. Alone in his hotel room, she’d driven him to taking his rock-hard cock in hand. She’d filled his nights with sex dreams and his days with endless fantasies of her.

  “Well, I’ll let you visit with your dad.” He sidled toward the door.

  As he passed, her arm brushed his, and her warmth zipped through him like an electric current. “Don’t go on my account.”

  Just as he’d been rooted to the hardwood floor outside her bedroom, he became rooted to the carpet in Holt’s office.

  “I just came,” she went on, “to tell my father I was meeting with my accountant this morning regarding our conversation yesterday.”

  Holt raised one brow. “You could have called me to tell me that.”

  She practically fluttered her eyelashes at Ward. “I was passing by anyway.”

  Her father sighed. “Let me know how it goes.”

  She patted his cheek. “I will.” Then she turned to Ward. “And I look forward to seeing more of you.” She winked at him before she left.

  Holt was giving him an expressionless stare. “Are you going to tell me what that was all about?”

  You should never mess with the boss’s daughter.

  “Nothing, sir.”

  Holt’s lips thinned. No one called him sir. Ward certainly hadn’t done so before. “Her accountant is in San Francisco. My house is in Atherton. Palo Alto”—where West Coast was located—“is not on the way. Unless I’ve got my compass mixed up.”

  She’d come for him, Ward knew. What would she have done if he hadn’t conveniently been in Holt’s office? Searched all the West Coast buildings? And what the hell did she want? “I realize Pala Alto is south, but other than that, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Holt eyed him a moment longer. At fifty-two, the man was impressive, intelligent, commanding, a power to be reckoned with. He’d always been a fair and easygoing boss. But now he was wearing his father hat.

  “My daughter is a beautiful woman,” he said. “But I have never known her to exclusively date one man. She doesn’t have relationships. She’s all about her career.”

  Ward knew she was a fashion designer from L.A. Holt was fond of talking about his daughter and proud of her accomplishments.

  “She’s opening a boutique in San Francisco,” Ho
lt went on. “Moving here. This will be a very busy time for her.”

  “And you think I—” Ward finished by putting a hand to his chest.

  “I wouldn’t want you to feel like you were coming in second or even third on her list of priorities.”

  Ward was stunned. “I would never presume to...” Oh yes he would.

  Holt clapped him on the back. “I like you.”

  “Thanks.” He waited for Holt to finish the thought, as if something else had to come after that.

  Holt simply went back to his seat behind his desk and motioned for Ward to take his. “Now what were your impressions of CT Capital Ventures?” It was one of the investment companies interested in any new public stock offerings West Coast might put out.

  Interesting. Holt had not been warning Ward off hurting Cassandra; the exact opposite was true. He was warning Ward about her.

  * * * * *

  On Monday evening, Ruby once again brought over take-out. This time it was Italian.

  Dinner was totally weird. Cassandra was hypersensitive to any touch and every glance between them. Did they have sex? Of course they had sex. She wasn’t one of those children who was horrified to think her parents had sex. It was natural. Her father was still a very virile man. But she didn’t get this relationship between them. Ruby had been living with Clay Blackwell a month ago. Yet her father had said this marriage thing wasn’t a snap decision.

  “How did the meeting go with your accountant?” her father asked.

  Cassandra didn’t want to discuss finances in front of Ruby, but it would be rude to ask her to leave. She phrased her answer as innocuously as possible. “We decided that the preferred method would be to classify it as a liability and repay with an agreeable rate of interest.” In other words, she was asking for a loan which she would pay back with interest at the prevailing rate. The truth was she didn’t want a partner or an investor. Especially not now that Holt was marrying Ruby.