Sexy Bad Boss

by Misti Murphy

  “Thanks,” I say as Garrett hustles down the path. “I’m going to need it.”

  I let myself into James’s condo and put my bags down near the door. I’m not sure yet where I’ll be staying. There’s only one bedroom on the second floor, along with a bath. I might end up sleeping on the couch.

  Except I find him stretched out on the couch, propped up by several pillows. He’s going to be the one sleeping downstairs. He’s dressed in one of Garrett’s blue polos and a pair of gray and pink argyle pants. I press my lips together to keep from laughing. He looks up from his laptop, already perched on his knee. “Good, you’re here.”

  “I am.” I cross the room and set the coffees and pastries down on the glass-topped coffee table, ducking my head so he doesn’t see how entertained I am by the ridiculous get- up. “French roast?”

  “Thanks.” He holds out his hand to receive it. His good hand, the other lies on his abdomen, bandaged. “Any chance there’s a blueberry Danish in there?”

  “There was.”

  “Garrett?”

  “Yes.” I open the bag and hold it out for his inspection.

  “Bastard. He was adopted, you know.”

  “So you’ve told me many times.” That’s always been his fallback position when one of his brothers has done something to push his buttons.

  James pulls out an apricot Danish. “This will do.”

  “Is there anything else you need?” I fluff the edges of his pillows to give my hands something to do while I take inventory of his injuries. His ankle is bandaged and splinted, and there’s the wrist and a few bumps and bruises, but nothing as bad as I imagined last night when we waited for the ambulance.

  “Yes, actually.” He tries to prop himself up, but the laptop slips and he gives up before it can fall to the floor. “Could you jog my memory about what happened last night? I’d really like to know. Especially since you’re resigning and I can’t account for how that could possibly be what you want.”

  On my way over I considered what I would tell him. But it’s still a difficult conversation to have. I stare at the dark locks of his hair against the pillow. Some of it is curling untidily at the ends because he’s already spent more time off his feet than is normal. I still my hand, catch my breath and resist the urge to stroke my fingers through it. “It’s not that I haven’t loved working with you. I’ve learned so much about business from my time at Frost Inc. But I can’t say it’s what I want to do with the rest of my life. I’ve given you and the company five years. It’s a long time.”

  “I know that, but I thought you were happy.” He closes the lid on his laptop with a click, and I move to take it from his lap. He catches my hand and traps it near his groin. Eye to eye, he asks, “Is it about the money? I know I pay you more than the average salary.”

  “No. It’s not about the money.” I try to ease my hand from his, but he doesn’t let go, and when I drop my gaze from his face to avoid the way he’s peering at me and trying to read my mind, I can’t help but stare at his fingers engulfing my wrist, the subtle difference in how tan he is compared to my own paler complexion and how close my fingers are to the waistband of those godawful golf pants that do not detract from his physique.

  I look up to stop the saliva from pooling in my mouth, only to get caught up in his blue eyes. Crystal clear lakes with dark pupils.

  His nostrils flare a little. “I’d be willing to give you a raise. You’re worth it.”

  Oh Christ, for a second I imagined that raise was going to happen under my hand and have nothing to do with work and money. “It’s not about the amount I earn. It’s about finding the time to do the things I want to do. I want to work on my baking skills.”

  “You’re already great. Those cookies you bring to the office—”

  “And there are other things I want to do too, like travel and get to the bottom of my never-ending to-do list. Have time to date.”

  “You want to date? Has my mother been getting in your ear too?” His gaze is calculating, logical. Sitting back, he grimaces. “You still don’t need to quit to do those things. I can give you more time off. Maybe not have you constantly on call.”

  “We both know how that will end. You need someone who is always available, and I can never say no to you.”

  “You can. You did so this morning.”

  “Because I’ve already given notice.” I shake my head. “It wouldn’t work. That’s all there is to it.”

  “So that’s it then? There’s nothing I can do to persuade you?”

  “Nothing,” I echo as I put the laptop down on the coffee table and stride across the room toward the entryway. I may as well take my things upstairs while James rests. No doubt this afternoon he will want to get to work, but I need a couple hours’ sleep if I am going to have any chance of working out what my next step to seducing him is. I’m pretty sure falling asleep face down in his lap isn’t going to achieve the results I’m after.

  “Myra?” he calls to me, and I halt in the doorway.

  “Yes, James.”

  “Just so you know.” Pillows crinkle and the sofa groans as he adjusts his position. “I’m not giving up.”

  “And I’m not changing my mind.”

  “Everyone has their price,” he tells me. “I am going to work out yours.”

  I pick up my suitcase from near the door and drag it toward the stairs. The only thing I’ll settle for is him. When he works that out, we’ll see if we have something to negotiate.

  Chapter Four

  JAMES

  “Nice outfit,” my sister says as she struts into my house without knocking.

  I scowl down at the gaudy getup I haven’t yet been able to change out of. My clothes are upstairs, with Myra, who hasn’t made an appearance since she headed up there two hours ago. “It’s Garrett’s. Apparently the hospital personnel destroyed my suit when they set my leg and hand.”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it looks way better on him.”

  She’s right. Our brother is the only man I know who can wear pink argyle slacks and look damn good doing it. Or so his female fan base claims.

  “You’re off the hook,” Ronnie adds. “Mom and Dad are staying at Paynt’s house and taking care of the goat.”

  I rub my eyes and catch my laptop before it can tumble off my lap and onto the floor. It’s at least the seventeenth such save since I settled onto the couch earlier today. Already I’m weary of my temporary handicaps and it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours.

  “Good.” I freeze. “Wait. Does that mean…”

  “They know what happened? Yep. Well, at least as much as any of us know.” She waggles her eyebrows like there’s some big bad secret she’s expecting me to divulge.

  “No, I don’t remember, and goddamn it, why did you tell them? Now Mom’s going to come over here and treat me like a child. She’ll probably boot Myra out and move in herself, and I cannot—”

  “So Myra took you up on your offer, huh? Rather, your demand.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “You did. You always do. You should try playing nice once in a while. Treat the woman like, you know, a woman. Or better yet, a lady.”

  “You’re talking in riddles, Ms. Feminist.”

  She snorts. “It’s entirely possible to be a feminist and a lady, trust me. Where’s your liquor? Despite my jet-setting lifestyle, I hate flying. And an Uber is taking me to the airport in an hour.”

  “I assume you want my Johnny Walker Blue Label?” My sister is as much a spirits snob as I am. “It’s in the dining room. Sideboard. Top shelf, to the left. Glasses are there, too, and why don’t you make two while you’re at it.”

  “Where is Myra, anyway?” Ronnie asks when she returns with two lowball glasses half-filled with honey-colored blended scotch over ice.

  I savor the first taste before responding. According to my doctor, I shouldn’t mix booze with the pain meds, but according to me, there’s never a bad time to spend with my dear friend
Johnny Walker.

  “Upstairs. Napping.” I furrow my brow. “Shit. I didn’t even think about the sheets until now.”

  “What about them?” Ronnie makes herself comfortable on my recliner, pulling up the footrest and sighing as she sips her drink.

  “She had to change them. The housekeeper doesn’t come until Wednesday, and I’ve been sleeping in them, obviously.”

  “Or she’s snuggled up with her face buried in your pillow, pretending she’s sleeping with you.”

  I arch my brow. “I take it this isn’t your first drink of the day.”

  “How does someone who is so oblivious run such a successful business?”

  “I’m beginning to wonder if it’s only drinks you’ve had.”

  “Ronnie, what a surprise.” We both turn at the sound of Myra’s voice as she hurries down the stairs, tugging on the sash of her robe. She’s flushed and her hair is askew, like her nap was a restless one. I can relate. My first night in a bed other than my own is always difficult too.

  “Hey, Myra,” Ronnie lifts her drink in salute. “Thought I’d pop in to check on my brother before heading back to New York. See if you’d decided to take that offer.”

  “What offer?” I ask sharply.

  “I, uh…” Myra’s gaze darts around the room and then she abruptly walks over to me and plucks the drink from my hand, taking a deep swallow before handing it back. The muscles in her throat contract, drawing my attention to the wide expanse of cream-colored skin there. I wonder what she’s wearing under that robe. I can’t see anything but flesh between the lapels. She must notice me staring because she grabs the material in one hand, squeezing it together, while the other fidgets with the silken sash at her waist.

  “Or have you already begun the process we discussed?” Ronnie says, her lips twitching while she, too, watches Myra.

  Of all my siblings, usually I like my sister best. Paynt has never had enough drive for my taste, and Garrett has such a natural talent, he never really has to try very hard to excel at either golf or picking up women. But Ronnie, she was always more like me: Determined to be successful, insistent upon carving her own path, despite our mother’s constant complaints that she lives too far away.

  Today, however, she seems to be attempting to knock herself off that pedestal. Because let’s face it, Paynt just married my partner, whom I happen to admire a great deal, so he’s automatically moved up a few notches, and Garrett…okay, Garrett dressed me in this ridiculous outfit, so I suppose she doesn’t have to compete with him.

  “Sleeping,” Myra blurts. “I was sleeping.” Why is she blushing?

  “Uh-huh,” Ronnie says. “I sleep like that a lot, too. Especially when I’m between men.” She turns to me. “Speaking of, when’s the last time you went out on a date, James? A real date, not those silly business functions you always drag Myra to.”

  I furrow my brow. “What does that have to do with anything? And by the way, it’s none of your damn business.”

  “Maybe not mine, but it’s significant, I promise you that. Right, Myra?”

  “Ronnie, stop,” Myra practically hisses.

  “Okay, What the hell is going on here?” I say.

  Ronnie laughs as her phone chimes. She pulls it out of her purse and lifts her drink to her lips while reading the screen. “My ride’s here.” Standing, she places the empty glass on the coffee table. “Myra, good luck. And if your plan doesn’t work out, you’re welcome to come hang with me for a while. We can sit around and eat cookies and drink wine and trash talk men for however long you need. James, open your eyes and don’t be an idiot. See you guys next time I’m in town.”

  She disappears into the foyer. A moment later, the sound of the door opening and closing breaks through the silence that’s fallen. Finally, I turn my attention to Myra.

  “That was about you resigning, wasn’t it?”

  “Um…sort of.”

  Her gaze falls to my drink. I pull it closer to my chest. She’s already drunk half of it. “Uh-uh. Get your own.”

  She purses her lips and bends over to scoop Ronnie’s glass off the table. Her robe gapes, revealing the curve of her breast. Which, by the way, isn’t covered by anything.

  Anything.

  My dick stirs. Actually, it jerks to attention, stiff, ready for action. Action I’m not sure how I’m going to give it, since I’m a righty, and that’s the hand currently wrapped in bandages. And if my dick thinks Myra’s going to take care of him, well, he’s more insane than my sister.

  Come on, it’s Myra. She’s my personal assistant. We can’t mix business and pleasure, at least not in this sense. Drinks and enjoyable conversation with potential clients is one thing, imagining my admin climbing onto my lap and riding me like I’m a wild stallion is quite another.

  One that’s making me harder still. Crap.

  Board meeting. Baseball. Mowing the lawn. Mowing her lawn.

  What the hell is wrong with me? I swear I’m channelling Garrett. Or Erin’s best friend, that goofy blond guy who thinks cheesy pick-up lines actually work.

  “Here,” I say, shoving the nearly empty drink at her. “You can have it.”

  “No, that’s okay.” She lifts her hand, palm facing out. “I’ll get a fresh one.”

  Before I can protest, she’s walking away and my mouth is watering while I watch her perfect, sashaying ass.

  The image takes me back to her first day in the office.

  ***

  “You’ve been on the job six hours and already I think hiring you was the best decision I ever made.” I lean back in my chair and grin triumphantly as I watch my inbox fill with emails. Not that most people would be thrilled over 171 messages scrolling over their computer screen, but considering my email was down for most of the day, this really is a good thing.

  I attempted to fix it myself, but I’m much better at brokering deals than I am at figuring out electronic gadgets. My youngest brother, Paynter, laughed at me for being such a dumbass that I couldn’t figure out my own email system. So yah, I practically bit this new admin’s head off.

  She marched right over to my desk and bent over in front of my computer, and when her arm brushed my chest, I hurriedly scooted my chair out of her way. It took her all of three minutes to figure out I’d inadvertently logged myself out.

  And, yes, during the course of that tiny timeframe, my gaze may have strayed to that rounded ass on display in her tight pencil skirt, so close I could lift my hand and give it a squeeze, if I were a pervy boss. Which I’m not. Even though I don’t have time to find dates outside of work, I’m sure as hell not going to take the chance of ruining my relationship with my brand-new admin. Not when she just saved my ass, without my asking. And after I was an ass to her, too.

  Still bent over my desk, she turns her head and gives me a sparkling smile over her shoulder. Such pretty blue eyes. Such a lovely grin, too, those perfect, white teeth framed by crimson red lipstick.

  It’s been a while since I’ve been out on a date. That’s surely the reason I’m noticing every minute detail of her face, the dirty blonde hair done up in a smooth chignon, her silk blouse and narrow skirt with thin pinstripes running throughout, those legs that go on for miles.

  The last thing I need right now is to consider hitting on my new admin. Having a quality assistant is far more important than having a beautiful woman warm my bed, especially considering, given my track record, it would be a temporary arrangement at best.

  “Thanks,” she says, and then she turns back to the computer. “Let me just do a few quick searches and delete these group emails I know you probably don’t care about. Tomorrow I’ll have IT take you off those lists. It’ll help you better manage your inbox.”

  “That…that’ll be great. So, you’re all set? With HR, I mean?”

  She nods without taking her focus away from the screen. “Yes. I’ve already set up my computer on the desk outside your door. I presume, based on the location, I get to be your gatekeeper too?” />
  I chuckle. “You’ll have all the control. You decide who gets through to see me each and every day.”

  “But not today,” my sister Ronnie announces as she breezes through my office door, with Paynt and Garrett on her heels. She’s wearing a red mini dress, while Paynter is in his typical uniform of a T-shirt and jeans, and Garrett’s sporting khakis and a neon-green golf shirt that’s so bright I wish I had sunglasses.

  Myra throws the entourage a startled look and straightens but doesn’t move from her position behind my desk. Almost like she’s planning to shield me from these three intruders.

  “What are you all doing here? I didn’t even know you were coming into town, Ronnie.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Of course I’m here. It’s our tradition. We always take each other out for our birthdays.”

  My gaze darts to the lower right corner of the computer screen, where today’s date stares back at me. “Holy shit, I forgot it was my birthday.”

  “Oh,” Myra says, half turning to face me. “Happy birthday. If I’d known, I would have baked you a batch of chocolate chip cookies. Everyone says they’re divine.” She gives this small shrug, like the praise of her cooking abilities is par for the course.

  “I’m Ronnie,” my sister says, shoving her hand at Myra, who automatically grasps it and shakes. “James’s sister. Younger, I might add. And you are…?”

  “Myra Edwards. New admin. I just started today.”

  “Too bad,” Ronnie says. “I thought for a minute…”

  Myra scrunches up her face like she’s confused. So am I, for that matter. “What did you think?” I demand of my sister.

  But she’s already pointing at each of my brothers in turn, introducing them to Myra. And then she says, “We’re kidnapping him, taking him out to get him drunk for his birthday. It’s our obligation as his siblings. Want to join us?”

  With a swift glance at me, Myra says, “I’m not sure…”

  “Come on,” Garrett says with an exaggerated wink and a wave of his hand. “We’re fun to hang with, I promise. Even James is, after you get a few drinks in him.”