Sexy Bad Boss

by Misti Murphy

  I even miss the cat. I’ve actually considered heading to the local Humane Society, just to take a look at the felines. I’m not sure why; no animal would live up to Simon. I don’t really want to bring a furry friend into my household anyway. Well, unless it’s Simon. There have been moments when I’ve wondered who I miss more: the cat or the woman.

  Okay, that’s not true. As much as I do admittedly wish the cat had stayed, missing Myra is like waking up and realizing someone has taken my right arm. And my heart.

  “How’s this?” Alex’s voice startles me out of the reverie I’ve fallen into yet again. I’ve been doing that a lot the last few days. Just sitting and staring into space, thinking about Myra.

  I glance down at a mug full of coffee, colored the perfect shade of medium brown. I should probably apologize to the kid for how mean I’ve been to him since he started. I frown; I’m not good at that. Apologizing, I mean. I don’t do it often. When I was young, that was what I most often got into trouble for—refusing to say I’m sorry to my siblings when I wronged them in some way. Mom wasn’t nearly as concerned over whatever it was we were fighting about as she was about the making up part.

  “Damn it,” Alex mutters, reaching for the mug. “It’s still not good enough. I’ll keep trying. One of these days, I’ll—”

  “No, it’s per—” Leaning forward, I try to grab the coffee before he can take it away. We get to it at the same time, his fingers grazing mine before he jerks them away, upending the cup. Dark liquid floods the mahogany wood surface and races toward my lap.

  I scramble away, forgetting for a moment that I have a bum foot. When I stand, the pain shooting through my leg is an all-too vivid reminder. My leg buckles and the desk races up to greet my forehead, the sensation of the impact overriding the urge to get off my foot.

  A moment later—I think—I open my eyes to Alex’s face swimming above me. I’m on my back, on the ground, apparently.

  His eyes widen. “Do you remember?”

  “That I just cracked my head on the desk?” I lift my hand and gingerly touch the goose egg forming above my brow.

  “No. The night you fell off the deck at your brother’s house.”

  “Oh. Right.” How the hell does he know about that? “No.”

  “Too bad. Should I call 9-1-1?” He whips his phone out of a pocket. I grab it from his hand.

  “No. I’m fine. I overreacted. Acted like an idiot. I’ve been doing that a lot lately.”

  He shakes his head. “No, it was my fault. Myra tried to teach me how you like your coffee, and I must have a mental block or something, because—”

  “Stop second-guessing yourself. The coffee was fine. It looked perfect. And I drank that other swill you made me, didn’t I? Help me up.”

  He’s strong for a skinny guy, and with seemingly little effort, he has me sitting in my chair, pushed away from the desk, where a puddle of liquid is spreading on the plastic mat protecting the carpet underneath.

  “Ice,” he says, practically vibrating as his gaze darts around the office like he expects to find an ice machine. “And something to clean up the mess. Supplies. Got it. I’ll be back.”

  “And more coffee.”

  He rushes away while I lean back in my chair and close my eyes as I try to will away the hammers now beating against my brain.

  He’s back a few moments later, handing me a plastic bag filled with crushed ice. I hold it to my head while he cleans up the mess on the floor and my desk. Apparently he couldn’t manage to bring me a cup of coffee as well.

  “Sorry about that,” I say. The words don’t even feel foreign in my mouth. Maybe this apology business isn’t so bad after all.

  “It was my fault,” he insists again.

  “Will you just let me have this apology? I’m trying to practice.”

  Tossing a wad of wet paper towels in the trash, he glances up at me, furrowing his brow.

  “I need to apologize to Myra. And…I need your help.”

  He takes one more swipe at the plastic covering the floor and then plops himself on my desk. I clench the fist that isn’t holding an ice pack, an attempt to keep from snapping at him to get his ass off my workspace. I’ve just asked the guy for help; I probably shouldn’t ruin it five seconds later.

  “Tell me all about it, Boss.”

  I shake my head. I’m not good at this, at opening up to others. But it’s time I l try.

  “I think it all started at my brother’s wedding. Although I’m not sure, because I can’t remember what exactly happened before I fell off the deck at his reception.”

  Alex nods sagely. “I’ve done that before.”

  Rolling my eyes, I snap, “I wasn’t drunk.”

  “Got it,” Alex replies in a tone that says he’s humoring me.

  Gritting my teeth, I continue. “Because of the injuries, I asked Myra to move in, to take care of me, until my doctor signed off saying I could return to work. And our relationship…”

  “Got a little physical.”

  Grimacing, I nod.

  “So far, you’ve told me nothing I don’t already know.”

  “You just told me to tell you all about it,” I retort.

  He shrugs while his legs swing off the side of the desk. I keep waiting for his heels to bang into the wooden drawers. “How about you tell me what’s going on now? Myra isn’t here, you’re a blubbering mess—”

  “I’m not blubbering.”

  “Your version of blubbering.”

  Pursing my lips, I glare at him.

  “It’s obvious you two had a falling out, although she’s been mum about what happ—”

  “You’ve talked to her?” I lean forward, dropping the bag of ice and grasping the desk, staring at him. She won’t take my calls, but she’s been talking to Alex?

  “Of course. She committed to training me, and Myra is clearly not one to back out on her promises. Even if you ran her off.”

  “I didn’t. I tried to tell her I wanted her to stay. With me. I had no idea she was planning to move to London.”

  Alex flaps his hand like he’s shooing a fly. “Oh, that plan fell through. She decided she’d rather be her own boss, and she hates London anyway.”

  “What? If she isn’t in London, where the hell is she?”

  “In New York. With your sister.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  MYRA

  “Okay. So how do I look?” Ronnie comes out of her bedroom in a fitted black mini-dress. A black leather jacket with square brass studs along the sleeves hangs by one hand over her shoulder, probably meant to go with the spiked motorcycle-style boots.

  “Dangerous.” I try to smile as I use a wooden spoon to stir the contents of the bowl in my arm. “Spikey.”

  “Total badass.” She drops her jacket over the back of a stool and checks her burgundy lipstick in the mirrored splashback behind the stove. “Best not to give these boys I date any ideas that I’m Suzie Homemaker. They get their knickers into a knot about wanting me to meet their mothers. And you know what that leads to.”

  “I know your mother.”

  “You do.” She laughs, turning around and grabbing the bottle of chardonnay from the bench so she can pour herself a glass. “Do you want one?”

  Putting down the bowl, I shake my head. “No, thanks, I—”

  “You haven’t had a drink since you got here. Scared you’ll drunk dial my brother?” She watches me while she takes a sip from her glass.

  “Yes.” My breath hisses between my lips. My abstinence is not entirely because I’m scared to call James though. It’s this low-level flu that has me most concerned, because maybe that one amazing night I spent with him led to something more permanent. I’ve been feeling off for days, a factor I ignored at first. I’ve always been more on schedule than even James.

  Unless you factor in the stress, and these past two weeks have been the most stressful of my life. I’m not ready to share that with Ronnie yet. And, God help me, I have no idea how I’l
l tell James if my hunch is correct. Especially when I couldn’t even manage to tell him I love him. Three little words, and I couldn’t bring myself to say them.

  “Maybe you should.” Ronnie sneers at her wine. “Get drunk. Call the jackass. You know I love my brother, but I’ll be the first to say his communication skills are severely lacking.”

  “He’s not the only one,” I murmur. Scooping up dollops of cookie mix, I systematically fill the greased trays in front of me.

  “At least you gave it a shot.” She shrugs, watching me work. “What’s on tonight’s menu?”

  “Peanut butter and fudge.”

  “Nice.” She steals a chunk of fudge from the bowl and pops it in her mouth before licking her fingers. “My boss wants three dozen of your choc chip for the open house they’re styling next Saturday, if you can manage.”

  “Sure.” I don’t have much else to do, except take the pregnancy test I picked up from the pharmacy today. And work on my business plan.

  I couldn’t bring myself to take the job at Royal Cookie Co. I packed my suitcases and sublet my apartment. I even booked my ticket.

  But my life is here. It’s not in England. And I don’t want to work for someone else. Not again. Ronnie came up with the idea of using cookies in the houses she styles for sale, and from there my plans began to flow. Working at Frost Inc. taught me so much that I’m going to put into my own cookie business.

  I pause with the spoon in the air, a ball of cookie dough on it. “Did I, though? Did I give it my best shot?”

  “You seduced him. You slept with him. You told him how you feel.” She steals the cookie dough right off the spoon. “You did tell him you love him, right?”

  “Not in as many words. I was too...”

  “Chicken?” she asks.

  “Wasn’t what I was going to say, but yes.” The spoon thuds against the counter as I put it down. “I had nothing left to lose but James, and I still couldn’t tell him. What the hell’s wrong with me?”

  “You’re British. Everyone knows you’re uptight, emotionally repressed tea drinkers.”

  “Ha. Funny, but no.” I undo my apron and pull it off before dropping it on the counter beside the cookies. “That might be my father and my brothers, but what has it accomplished? A family of people who haven’t talked to one another in twenty-odd years. That’s not going to be me. I’m going to tell your brother exactly how I feel about him.”

  “Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”

  “I need to book a flight home, Ronnie. I need to pack.”

  “Let me cancel my date. I’ll drive you to the airport.” She puts down her wine and picks up her phone.

  “You don’t have to do that.” I march from the kitchen.

  There’s a knock on the front door.

  “That’s probably my date. Perhaps I can talk him into having drinks at the airport after we book you in.” She opens the door. “Oh, it’s you.”

  I freeze mid-breath, my body leaping to attention. Is it James? Did he come all this way to see me? No, that doesn’t make sense. I told him I was taking the job in London. Unless...did Ronnie tell him? Or Alex? They’re the only ones who know I’m here.

  “That’s a nice way to greet your brother.” James’s wry voice pierces my heart, flooding me with nerves. I desperately want to see his face, but my feet are glued to the tiles.

  “It is when he’s being a moron. For the longest time I thought you were right about Garrett being the adopted one, but I’m starting to think it’s you.”

  “It’s good to see you too, Ronnie,” he says.

  “Is it?” She hangs in the doorway, blocking his entry, and I am torn between needing her to move so I can see him and being so grateful to her for giving me a moment to compose myself.

  “Myra’s here. I know she is,” he says matter-of-factly. “Alex let the cat out of the bag.”

  “So?”

  “I need to see her.” He’s beginning to sound short with her.

  “Let me check if she’s available.”

  Ronnie glances at me and I nod. “Let him in.”

  “Okay,” she says, before jabbing him in the chest. “But I swear, if you start on about how much your company needs her or—”

  “Damn it, Ronnie. This isn’t about Frost Inc. Now get out of my way.”

  “Fine. But only because my date just arrived.”

  She’s gone, spinning past him and down the hallway in a matter of seconds while he steps into view. I can’t breathe. My pulse trips all over itself as he closes the door behind him, not taking his gaze off me. Not even for a second.

  He looks good. Back to his old self almost, or at least able bodied. He’s wearing his charcoal suit and that tie I picked out for him that time we went to Italy and the airline lost part of his luggage. It’s loose around his neck, like he’s spent a lot of time toying with the silk. Dropping the carry-on in his hand to the floor beside his feet, he stands almost as frozen as I am.

  I open my mouth and just as quickly snap it shut while I try to find my voice. My pulse trips and tumbles over itself. What do I even say?

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I had to see you.” He takes a step toward me. Just one and my world dips a little, but that’s been happening on and off these past couple of weeks anyway. I cover my mouth with the back of my hand while I fight for my equilibrium.

  “I was...” I glance behind me in the direction of the bedroom where I was heading before he walked into Ronnie’s apartment. “I was coming to see you.”

  “You were?”

  “I hadn’t packed yet. I was about to book a flight. Ronnie was going to drive me to the airport and then you...” Then he winged his way to me. Dropped everything to come and find me.

  “I had to see you,” he says again.

  “You said that already.” I move toward him.

  “I did.”

  “I needed to see you too. Needed to tell you something I’ve kept to myself for far too long.” I hesitate. Why is this so hard?

  “I’m glad you quit, Myra.” He fills the silence.

  “I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t be at your beck and call.”

  “I don’t want you to be my admin.” He walks toward me. His eyes remind me of that moment after a storm when the world is fresh and new again. “Ever again.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No, I don’t. And I don’t want to talk about work either.” He stops in front of me and reaches for my hand. “Supergirl, I—”

  “I love you, James. I should have told you before, but when I kissed you at Paynt and Chloe’s wedding you freaked out and fell off the balcony. I didn’t know how to let you know without shocking you, and Ronnie suggested I use the time we had together, so I decided to try to seduce you, and—”

  “That’s what I don’t remember?” He touches his head and winces as though the bump is still fresh.

  “That’s what happened.”

  “And I freaked out about you kissing me?”

  “Yes.” I exhale.

  “Garrett’s right. I’m not good at this stuff,” he says.

  “Neither am I,” I murmur.

  “But that’s why I went to London. Why I came here.”

  “You went all the way to England to find me? I’ve been here the whole time.”

  “I didn’t know that. I only knew I had to find you and tell you I’m in love with you. Maybe a couple weeks ago the idea of falling for my admin might have freaked me out—”

  “It definitely did.”

  “Okay, it was still freaking me out when you left. Otherwise, I would have worked out how to tell you what you really meant to me. But I need you, Myra. So here’s my final offer.”

  “James, I don’t need—”

  “It’s not a promotion.”

  “Okay.”

  “It’s a partnership. A life long partnership. Your position will be wife, mine will be husband. There will be mergers and we’ll acquire small
assets and watch them grow.”

  I’m a little lightheaded. Does he mean children? I hope he doesn’t mind that we may have already started on that plan. “I have to sit down.”

  “Are you okay?” He ushers me to the closest comfy-looking chair and crouches beside me. “I know I don’t have a way with words. I thought if I put it in terms that I’m great with, it would help.”

  “Are you asking me to marry you, James? Are you telling me you want to have children?”

  “Maybe it’s better if I show you.” He leaves me to collect his bag, which he puts on the table and unzips. A moment later he returns with his tablet and hands it to me.

  I stare at the screen. A link to a property contract. A graph where two becomes one and then three and four and five and six. A yearly planner blocked out with things like a moving date and...

  “I’m not sure what this is.”

  “That,”—he points—“is where I hope you’ll do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

  “And this?” I sniffle.

  “Is our first family dinner. With all my crazy siblings. And probably a goat and a duck, because the house is for sale in Paynt’s neighborhood. I thought if Garrett was going to move into Chloe’s old place, perhaps it would be a good place to raise our kids. Children. I don’t mean goats. I mean babies. I want to make babies with you, Myra. I want to have a little girl that we raise together and that my mother will probably coddle and knit cute little blankets for. Someone with your beautiful eyes.” He grips my chin and stares warmly at me. “And with my dark hair.”

  “Oh.” I can’t help the tears now. I’m smiling from ear to ear like a loon. He loves me. He really loves me. The way I love him.

  “And I want to have a son with you. Or another girl. Maybe we’ll end up with three. How many do you want? We’ll have as many as you want. You can stay home with them, or work with me, or do something completely brand new.”

  “I want to bake cookies.”

  “You can bake cookies.” He brushes the tears out of my eyes. “As many as you want. As often as you want.”

  “No, I mean I want to open a store and sell cookies.”