The Boss of Her

by Julie Cannon

  Elisa nodded.

  “I mean, you should tell me if it’s something besides the whole work thing. If you hate the way I laugh or think my breath is terrible, we should get that out in the open.”

  “I love your laugh. And your breath is fine.” For the first time since they’d slept together, Elisa allowed herself to imagine the possibilities. Really imagine them, not just catch herself in an errant daydream.

  “Whew.” Parker grinned. “I think you are the smartest and sexiest woman I know. I love that you’re amazing at your job but don’t let it consume you. I love that you kick my ass in yoga and will stay up all night talking about whatever. And I’d really like to see where this goes.”

  Elisa smiled. “I’d like that, too.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Parker set down the box and groaned. Why did law books have to be so heavy? She looked around the space, surprised at how quickly it was transforming from a set of empty rooms to a law office.

  It helped that she had movers. And furniture delivery guys. And the financial leverage to sign a lease the second she found a place she liked. Parker didn’t take any of that for granted. But still, she’d worked harder in the last two weeks than in the months leading up to being named partner the first time.

  “Honey, are you sure you won’t let me help with those?” Stella put her hands on her hips and looked at Parker expectantly.

  “No, Mama. I’ve worked you hard enough.” Not only had Stella shown up with lunch, she’d helped Parker hang her diplomas and several paintings. She’d also helped to arrange the furniture in the reception area in a way that was far more inviting than anything Parker could have conjured.

  “I am an able-bodied woman, not too far past her prime. I can move a few boxes.”

  Parker crossed the room to give her mother a kiss on the cheek. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re one hundred percent still in your prime.”

  Stella smiled at the compliment, but she had an extra gleam in her eye. “I’m glad you think so.”

  “Why? What’s going on?”

  She shrugged. “Nothing much. I’m just going on a date this evening.”

  “A date?” The words came out pitched higher than Parker wanted. She cleared her throat. “With whom?”

  “The instructor of a gardening class I took at the Botanical Society. He’s a widower.” She said the last part with something that sounded like satisfaction.

  “Well, I’m happy for you.” She was. Her mother hadn’t shown much interest in men after her father passed away, which was fine, but Parker liked the idea of her getting to have some fun. “Just don’t do anything too crazy.”

  Stella gave her a playfully disapproving look. “Don’t do anything you wouldn’t do?”

  Parker laughed. “Something like that.”

  “Speaking of things you would or wouldn’t do, how’re things with Elisa?”

  “Subtle, Mama.” She’d confided most of the details of her budding relationship. And unlike when her father was alive, Stella’s happiness for her wasn’t tinged with worry.

  “When have I ever been subtle?”

  “One of my favorite things about you.” Although it had created some tensions through the years, Parker meant it. She liked to think she got her grit from her no-nonsense mother. “Things are good.”

  “She wasn’t disappointed you left the firm?”

  “Quite the opposite. She had major issues with the idea of dating her boss.”

  “Even though you weren’t technically her boss.”

  “I was close enough.” She hadn’t wanted to admit it, but Elisa’s reasoning on that had been sound. It would have complicated things—maybe not for them, but in the office as a whole. “I think this arrangement will be much better.”

  “I’m glad.” Stella smiled. “Seems to me it’s about the time you should be bringing her around for supper.”

  Again, not subtle. “I will. Promise.”

  “Okay. I’ll get out of your hair, then.”

  “Thanks for all the help. I hope you have fun on your date.”

  Stella’s eyes sparkled. “I think I will.”

  Parker walked her to the door. When she’d gone, Parker glanced at her watch. She had just about an hour before Elisa would be stopping by. Parker was excited for her to see the space, but a little nervous. Fortunately, she had plenty to keep her busy in the meantime. She eyed the stack of boxes. Plenty.

  * * *

  Elisa pulled up at the address Parker had given her. It wasn’t, as she’d expected, an office building. Rather, Parker’s new office occupied the left side of an old shotgun-style duplex. It exuded the kind of character and charm she often wished her office had. Once again, Parker had managed to surprise her.

  She grabbed her purse and the box from the front seat, along with the bottle of champagne she’d hidden in the break room refrigerator after lunch. She made her way down the gravel path and up the steps of the front porch. She peered in the front door and saw Parker, in jeans and a black T-shirt, bent over a box. Elisa tapped lightly on the glass before going in.

  Parker looked up and smiled. “I didn’t expect you here this early.”

  Elisa offered a playful shrug. “You know me. I never let work get in the way of what really matters.”

  Parker crossed the room and slid her hands around Elisa’s waist. “I’ve heard that about you.”

  “Just don’t tell my boss.”

  Parker smirked. “Your reputation as a powerhouse remains intact.”

  Elisa laughed. “Don’t be spreading rumors, now.”

  “I speak only the truth.”

  Despite Elisa’s full hands and their somewhat lopsided embrace, Parker leaned in and kissed her. Not too long or passionate, but enough to send ripples of warmth up and down Elisa’s body. She had an image of Parker taking her right there in the reception area, bent over the antique desk they’d found at a flea market the previous weekend. At least the intensity of her desire for Parker no longer freaked her out. She filed the image away—they’d get around to it, she was sure. “I brought you a present.”

  She slid out of Parker’s arms and lifted her hands. Parker glanced at the bottle and the box. Her eyes lit up. “I love presents.”

  “This first.” Elisa handed her the box. Parker tore into it like a kid on Christmas morning. Elisa watched as her eyes registered what it was. Parker looked at her, then back at the box, a wide grin spreading across her face. She lifted the slate sign from the tissue and held it up. The white block letters—The Law Offices of Parker M. Jones—stood out even better than Elisa imagined when she commissioned Tess’s friend Jenny to paint it.

  “I love it.”

  “They’re reclaimed roof tiles. Since you’re literally hanging out your shingle—”

  Her moderately amusing pun was cut off with a kiss. Unlike Parker’s greeting a moment before, this one packed a healthy wallop of passion. Elisa felt it straight down to her toes. “It’s perfect. You are perfect.”

  Elisa was about to rebuff her when realization hit. “Crap, I forgot glasses.”

  “Okay, almost perfect.”

  Elisa cringed. “I guess we could swig it right from the bottle.”

  Parker raised a finger. “The water cooler was delivered this morning.”

  Elisa glanced in the direction Parker pointed. A five-gallon Kentwood Springs jug sat perched in a stand. “Beggars can’t be choosers, right?”

  She handed Parker the champagne and got two paper cones from the dispenser. Parker popped the cork. Elisa smiled at the decidedly festive sound. Parker filled the cups and Elisa handed her one. “Thanks for helping me celebrate.”

  “It’s a gorgeous space.” Elisa lifted her makeshift glass. “To fresh starts and new beginnings.”

  Parker did the same, and they each sipped from their tiny paper cups. Parker looked at her, eyebrow raised. “You know, there’s an extra office on the second floor.”

  Elisa offered a bland look. “I
just got rid of you as my boss.” Not that the prospect of a more personal firm, with clients of her own, didn’t appeal.

  “Which is why we’d be partners—equals, in it together for the long haul.”

  Something in Parker’s eyes said she was talking about far more than the practice of law. The prospect both thrilled and terrified her.

  Parker must have sensed her reaction because she smiled. “Not tomorrow. Eventually, once we know for sure we’re compatible.”

  Okay, she was definitely talking about more than work. “I like the sound of that.”

  “Good. For what it’s worth,” Parker drained the champagne from her cup and smiled, “I have the feeling we’re going to be phenomenally compatible.”

  Elisa allowed the possibility to sink in. It wasn’t so long ago that the prospect of working with Parker was as off-putting as the prospect of dating her. Now she could easily imagine a future with her—professionally, romantically, everything. She looked around the office, thinking about what it would be like to come in each morning, together. And then, at the end of the day, go home together. Yeah, she could definitely imagine it. She returned Parker’s smile. “Counselor, I think we might be in agreement.”

  Parker’s eyes gleamed. “Then I rest my case.”

  For Your Eyes Only

  Julie Cannon

  Part I: Riley

  Chapter One

  “I so do not want to be here,” I said to my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I’d snuck away from the raucous crowd down the hall for a few minutes of peace and quiet. The party was in full swing, but then again it wasn’t every day someone crossed the threshold of the big five-O.

  I’m an introvert and I don’t do parties. But Ann was my BFF and when she decided to throw herself a “Hawaii Five-O” themed birthday party, I couldn’t not come. She assured me there was nothing I needed to do, but as her BFF, I took my role seriously, which, tonight, meant making sure she had a good time.

  I’d kept an eye on her for most of the evening, but it was eleven thirty and there was no sign the festivities were anywhere near winding down. It was Saturday, so I couldn’t blame the dozen ladies in the living room for having their fun, but I had a half-marathon to run in the morning and my start time was seven thirty. It was going to be a short night and a very long run.

  I splashed cold water on my face and patted it dry with a thick hand towel folded neatly on the counter. Ann had good taste in home décor and had not scrimped on towels for the guest bathroom. I would know; she dragged me along one day to every store in a ten-mile radius to buy them as well as several sets of sheets. I’d had a boatload of work to do, my normal weekend activity, but Ann had hauled me out of my house nonetheless. She rarely took no for an answer.

  I double-checked that my shirt was still tucked in. One side had come untucked from the monster hug Ann gave me when I walked in her front door, and I’d immediately felt completely disheveled. I’m a stickler, if not a little compulsive about my clothes. Being a female chief financial officer was hard enough, but having shoulder-length blond hair abd blue eyes and being an out lesbian added to the challenges of being taken seriously. I needed every advantage I could get. Whoever said we’ve come a long way, baby, didn’t have my seat in my boardroom.

  No one has confidence in their CFO if she is frazzled and doesn’t have complete control over everything, including her life. I had complete control of my appearance, which was always flawless. It was also my shield of armor. I’d taken advice from an instructor in grad school to heart. As a result, my car was washed every Sunday, my hair trimmed every eight weeks, and my clothes perfectly tailored to fit my five-foot-five-inch frame. Tonight wasn’t a work event, but I still maintained my standards. Several weeks ago, Ann informed me, in her absolute candor, that I’d turned into a stick in the mud. Maybe she was right.

  I’ve always been reserved and cautious, but I’d worked hard to come out of my shell. I had a few friends and went out when invited. Some nights, I didn’t stay long. Tonight was one of those where I’d leave much later than I wanted to.

  “Riley, what are you doing? You got a girl in there?” It was Ann.

  I took a deep breath and opened the door. She peered around me, looking for any sign of the girl she accused me of having inside. Hoped was probably a better word. She’d been after me forever to get a girlfriend.

  “Riley?” she repeated. “You’ve been in here a long time.”

  “I didn’t know you were bathroom monitor along with the birthday girl,” I said, maybe a bit too sarcastically judging by the look on Ann’s face when I stepped out.

  “I know this isn’t your thing, but I love you for coming.” She kissed me on the cheek and hugged me, which also was not my thing. I tried not to stiffen in response.

  To say I’m cold is a bit much, but I’m not big on PDA or even Private DA. My family didn’t show much affection, so I’m not used to it or comfortable with it. Makes it kind of tough with a girlfriend, but I haven’t had many of those either. I used to think there was something wrong with me, a comment echoed by several women I dated. I feel things—inside—I just have a hard time showing them. I want to touch someone, hold their hand, but I just can’t. Freud could have a field day with that if he were still alive.

  I saw a shrink for a while, but when he said I was frigid, I never went back. I thought that was the most condescending statement I’d ever heard. I went so far as to report him to the State Board of Mental Health. I guess that’s the chance you take when you pick someone off a list. I really didn’t have any choice; I wasn’t going to ask someone for a referral.

  “You know I’d do anything for you, Ann. This is just another on the long BFF list and I certainly wouldn’t miss your birthday party.” However uncomfortable it makes me, I thought but didn’t say. Ann gave me another quick peck on the cheek.

  “Stop,” I said, stepping back. “People will think we’re together.” I pretended to be appalled at the idea. At one time, I’d thought about something more with Ann, but then realized I needed a friend more than I needed a lover. Making friends was hard for me, so I didn’t dare squander the opportunity. I could always be my own lover, and often was.

  “Come on,” Ann said, taking my arm and pulling me back into the festivities. “The real fun is about to start.”

  Her statement worried me, as there was already enough fun for me, but I dutifully followed. Like I had any choice with the death grip she had on my left wrist.

  When she finally let go I made a beeline for the stool at the end of the massive island that separated the kitchen from the great room. If I couldn’t leave, then ten feet of two-inch granite between me and the partygoers would have to do.

  The doorbell rang just as I sat down, and Clarice, a robust woman in a red top and way too tight pants, shrieked in excitement. “Let’s get this party started,” she shouted to the delight of the other dozen women in the room. A tingle of apprehension went down my spine. What did they know that I didn’t? Ann opened the front door and motioned someone inside.

  I stopped breathing as the most stunning woman I’d ever seen stepped in. The woman was tall—at least five feet ten inches—and moved with the confidence and grace that I’d only read about in the sappy romances on my bookshelf. Another one of my idiosyncrasies I keep to myself. The woman had very short hair that didn’t quite control errant waves and, if the way she looked in her clothes was any indication, a perfect body.

  She was wearing Levi’s that were long enough to be crumpled over the tops of her boots—well-worn, scuffed cowboy boots. Her shirt fit like a glove, a trite cliché I admit, but completely appropriate for a butch who probably wasn’t yet out of college.

  I didn’t know her, but I immediately wanted to. The way my heart was racing and my girl-parts were reacting, I wanted to know her in the biblical sense. What the hell? I’d never reacted like this just seeing someone for the first time. I don’t believe in love at first sight, but I certainly was experiencing lu
st at first sight.

  She fiddled around in a large bag and pulled out a pair of small speakers and set them on the floor. Ann was introducing her to the other women and I froze when I realized I’d have my turn. What would I say? What should I say? Certainly not “How about we slip upstairs for a few minutes or hours or days?” No, that would be totally out of character for me and definitely so far out of my comfort zone I might as well be in The Twilight Zone. Oh my God, she was walking my way. I wanted to disappear, but there was no place to go that I wouldn’t be missed.

  “And this is my BFF, Riley. She’s a little shy.”

  A little shy? Thanks, Ann, for making me seem like a fourteen-year-old virgin. I reminded myself to fuss at her later.

  “I’m not shy,” I said stupidly. But then again my brain had shut down all sensible connection to my mouth.

  “I’m Jess,” she said, extending her hand. Her nails were short enough to not be dangerous but long enough to make her hands look very, very sexy. I stared at her hand like it would bite, but what I wanted was to feel it and its companion all over me. I shook myself out of my stupor and took it.

  “Riley Stephen—” I stopped myself before disclosing my full name. I met so many people it was just habit.

  “Hello, Riley Stephen,” the woman said, her voice bedroom husky.

  The instant our hands touched, a jolt of electricity shot up my arm and ignited what had been a dull throb between my legs. My eyes shot to hers. She looked just as surprised as I was. My heart didn’t know whether to stop or race, and the tingling in my stomach dropped several inches south.

  Who was this woman and why did she affect me so much? Before I had a chance to say anything else—and that was doubtful based on my previous attempt—music started blasting out of the Bose speakers.

  Jess’s eyes twinkled and she started to move to the heavy beat. She was still holding my hand and I could feel her body move all the way to my toes. My throat was suddenly very dry and I was barely able to keep my jaw from dropping open.