Who's the Boss?

by Jill Shalvis

  “I don’t pity you,” he said gruffly. “You’re far too maddening for that.”

  “Another compliment.” She pressed a hand to her chest and batted her lashes at him. “You really must stop—it’ll go to my head.”

  “This is a business,” he said carefully. “And I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

  “Well, you’ve got a funny way of showing it, but don’t worry, boss, I won’t forget who signs the paychecks.” Caitlin swallowed her hurt. “And if it makes you feel any better, I can not like you very much and still enjoy kissing you.”

  “I meant,” he said tightly, his probing gaze pinning her to the spot, “that this... this—”

  “Yes? This what, Joe? Relationship? No, that would be too much, wouldn’t it.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  His expression wasn’t grim or angry; those she could have easily resisted. He seemed... genuinely baffled. And scared.

  That stopped her as nothing else could have. He was nervous and unsettled. The big, restless, ill-tempered, bullheaded man was backpedaling as fast as he could because she terrified him. “That’s the funny thing here, Joe. I don’t want anything from you.”

  “Women always do.”

  “Is that right?” She studied him thoughtfully. “Yeah, I can see that might be a problem. Gorgeous, smart...and such a charming bedside manner. How ever do you fight them all off?”

  When he took another step toward her, scowling, her heart raced, but not from fear. Damn him, he’d done the impossible. He’d made her want him and now he was regretting it. She could really hate him for that. But she knew if he so much as touched her, she’d fling herself into those very capable arms.

  She backed to the door, grabbed the jamb for balance and sent him a smile, though it wavered. “You know what? Never mind this whole thing. I’ve got work.”

  “Wait.” He paused, drew a ragged breath. “I’m sorry,” he said in that unbearably sexy voice that was now filled with tenderness and affection—two emotions she would never have expected of him.

  She turned away. “I’m not.”

  “Caitlin.” She stopped, but didn’t face him, and when she heard his words, she was glad for it.

  “This won’t happen again. It can’t.”

  “Okay.”

  “I mean it.” His stern voice reminded her that she didn’t like stern men who didn’t see past her exterior to the woman beneath.

  “Fine.” Now, pride fierce and hot, she looked at him. “Remember that the next time you grab me close, Joe, okay? Keep your lips to yourself.”

  THE CROWNING GLORY CAME late the next afternoon. Caitlin made the mistake of thinking about Joseph’s kiss while working the new coffeemaker. She got herself so hot and bothered, she didn’t pay attention to the strange crackling, sizzling sound coming from the outlet on the wall where the machine was plugged in.

  The cord caught fire.

  She figured the ensuing explosion was Joseph’s final straw.

  He came storming into the kitchen, eyes wild, hair standing up on end from where he’d plowed his fingers through it. “Again?” he yelled. “You’re incredible! How does this happen to you? To me?” Unplugging the scorched, blown-up unit from the wall, he hissed at the heat. Now that there was coffee from ceiling to floor, there were no more flames.

  Just that scorched-coffee smell.

  With one swift look at the calamity around him, he went straight to her.

  Caitlin couldn’t bring herself to look at him, but he lifted her chin with his fingers. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and serious.

  She nodded, sure she’d never felt so stupid in all her life.

  “You’re sure?” He turned her face from side to side, inspecting her thoroughly. She nodded again.

  “Good.” He drew a deep breath and glanced at the mess around them. “Then I can yell at you and not feel bad.”

  “Maybe I’m not so okay after all,” she decided, but he didn’t find her humorous in the least.

  Tim, Andy and Vince appeared in the doorway, eyes wide, faces grim.

  “In fact,” she said urgently, “I’m critically injured. Probably going to die.”

  “She’s kidding,” Joe told them. “I’ll handle this.” To underscore his point, he shut the door in their faces. The room suddenly shrank.

  “I can’t work like this,” he said, far too quietly. “If I don’t get some peace soon, Caitlin, I’ll blow up. Just like the coffeemaker.”

  What could she say—she had no idea what she’d done wrong, other than be born. Man, he had such great, wide shoulders—perfect for setting her head down on. They were so strong, so durable. She could lean there and cry it all out—her fears for her future...how she was beginning to feel for him...that she didn’t want to be alone anymore. She thought maybe he could feel the same way about her if he tried really hard and overlooked all the little things that drove him crazy....

  “I’m sorry. I really do know how to make coffee, honest.”

  “I’m so close to finishing this program. I’m so damn close, and you keep distracting me, driving me insane. Do you do it on purpose?”

  “No, it’s just a special talent of mine.” But she thought it only fair he take half the blame for the coffeemaker thing. It had been his lips, his touch, his everything that had distracted her in the first place; otherwise she would have noticed the fire.

  He paced the small kitchen, his sneakers making squishy noises in the coffee. He looked huge. Powerful. Very dangerous. “I thought I could do this—I swear I did. Dammit, I wanted to for Edmund.”

  Her heart lodged in her throat. “What are you saying?”

  “That I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t.” With a sound of disbelief, he gestured around him. “Look at this, Caitlin. Did you know we’ve been here for years and never once has that damn thing exploded? You’ve done it twice now.” In disgust, he lifted a foot, and it came loose from the linoleum with a loud pop. “We’ve never even had to mop before you came here.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessarily something to be proud of. A good cleaning never hurt anything, Joe.”

  “Well it’s gotten two cleanings in four days! There are more important things to be doing, dammit!”

  “And I’d be happy to be doing them, but you don’t trust me!”

  “Trust you! You can’t even work a coffeemaker!”

  “All right, fine!” she yelled back, her hands on her hips. “But we all make mistakes. You don’t see me flinging yours in your face.”

  “Because I haven’t made any,” he shouted, matching her tone as they stood nose to nose raging at each other.

  “You make me so—”

  The doorway to the kitchen was suddenly filled with curious, frantic techs.

  “Get out!” Joe reached over and slammed the door.

  “That wasn’t nice.” Caitlin lifted her chin. “They’re probably just wondering what you’re hollering about.”

  “They’re used to it, believe me,” Joe assured her. He let out a slow breath. “And you’re changing the subject. I make you so...what? So mad?”

  So horny. The thought came unbidden, but it didn’t quite apply here. “Yes! Mad and irritated and frustrated and anxiety ridden.”

  “Is that all?”

  “You also infuriate me.”

  “That’s the same as mad.”

  “It’s mad multiplied.”

  “My point exactly.” He nodded, quite calm now. “We drive each other crazy, so—”

  “I never said you drove me crazy.”

  He sighed and closed his eyes, looking so defeated, she wanted to hug him. Hug him?

  Maybe she was crazy.

  “You’re skirting around the real issue.”

  “Of course I am,” she snapped. “You’re trying to fire me and pretend it has nothing to do with what happened earlier in your office. Which is a crock!”

  A knock came at the door, followed by Tim’s hesitant voice.
“Guys? Everything all right in there?”

  “It would be if you would go back to your office and do your job!” Joe roared at the closed door.

  “There’s no need to yell at him—he’s just being sweet,” Caitlin proclaimed, nearly yelling herself. She never raised her voice, so it was startling to realize how good it felt. So exhilarating. So freeing. “And no need to shout at me, either. It’s yourself you’re so mad at.”

  Joe let out a short laugh and glanced around him at the coffee mess. “How in the hell do you figure that?”

  “You kissed me,” she reminded him, jabbing a finger to his chest. “And you liked it, Joe.”

  “Joe? Caitlin?” This time it was Andy, and the knob turned. Bravely, he pushed open the door. “You’re going to bring the place down. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing!” they shouted in unison.

  “If you’re trying to fire her,” Vince said flatly, peeking around Andy. “Forget it. We took a vote. She stays.”

  “It’s my vote that counts,” Joe said. He’d made a living out of calling the shots; retreat didn’t come naturally. He met Caitlin’s fathomless dark eyes and couldn’t, for the life of him, look away.

  Time stopped and inexplicably he couldn’t remember why he was so mad.

  As if she sensed that, her lips curved softly.

  His heart tipped. Just tipped right over and broke a little. Yeah, he wanted her, but even worse, he needed her. Not an easy admission, even to himself. Never losing eye contact, he said, “Fine. Dammit. She stays. You’re all crazy.” It threw him to see her smile fully now. “What’s so damn amusing?” he demanded.

  “You are.” She said this sweetly and full of such warmth and affection that for a minute he couldn’t breathe, much less speak. “You think you’re so tough,” she added softly. Moving close, she reached up and cupped his cheek.

  At the unexpected contact, he flinched. “I am tough.”

  She shook her head, still smiling. Her eyes glowed. “You’re a big softie, Joe Brownley.”

  Vince laughed from the doorway. “Yeah. A big softie. Ask him for a raise, Caitlin. Let’s see just how soft.”

  Joe shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t soft at all, but hard as a rock at just her touch. “Get out of here, guys. Caitlin and I have things to discuss.”

  “Things?” Andy lifted a brow curiously. “What things?”

  “Yeah, what things?” Tim wanted to know, ignoring the order to leave. They leaned against the doorjamb, comfortable. Completely un-cowed by Joseph’s glare.

  So much for tough. “Get out,” he repeated firmly, keeping his gaze on Caitlin.

  He didn’t hear anyone budge. Not until Caitlin turned to them with that endearing smile, the one that could make a grown man beg, and said in her light, gentle voice, “It’s all right. We’ll try to keep it down.”

  Joe watched, stunned, as Tim and Andy smiled back at Caitlin dopily, completely entranced, and then did as she asked. Vince left, too, silently.

  When they were alone, he said, “That’s amazing. The way you twist everyone around that little pinkie of yours.”

  “What things do we have to discuss, Joe?”

  “Rules, princess. Rules.”

  “Ah.” She nodded. “Those rules again.”

  He ran his gaze over her lush, curvy body, and his fingers itched to explore. “Apparently, you’ve forgotten them.”

  “Gee, I guess we’re back to the topic of my clothes.”

  They both looked at her choice for the day— narrow denim skirt unbuttoned from ankle to well above the knee, topped with a tight, siren red, ribbed cotton top.

  He cleared his throat. “I told you we were conservative around here.”

  “No, you said I should wear more. Well, my skirt goes practically to the floor.” She lifted her foot and wiggled her bright red sandal, exposing a terrific looking leg to midthigh. “I’m trying to fit in with the norm around here.”

  “Which is?”

  “Casual.” Caitlin lifted her gaze up to his and found his beautiful eyes filled with equal parts heat and annoyance. Perfect. Now their moods matched. “What do you think?”

  He curled an arm around her waist, still annoyed. Still hot. He dragged her closer. “I think you’re courting disaster.”

  “Am I?” she whispered, their lips nearly touching as she strained against him on tiptoe. Gently, she framed his face, marveling at herself. Never in her life had she made a move on a man; now she couldn’t seem to stop. “This isn’t a disaster. This is the rescue.”

  “Rescue?” His voice, thick and sexy, nearly had her dissolving in a boneless heap.

  “Yeah.” She kissed the corner of his mouth, loving the feel of his warm and solid body against hers. “You’re something. All those hard muscles and that bad attitude. But you can’t fool me, Joe. You care. You feel. And you need this.” Her lips trailed over his clenched, slightly stubbled jaw, and she lingered, suddenly overwhelmed by how he made her feel. She closed her eyes and kept going, expecting him to shove her away any second, but he didn’t. Instead, he tilted his head, letting her have her way. “You need me,” she whispered.

  “You’re pressing your luck, Caitlin.” He didn’t sound very steady or very tough at the moment.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Now he did move away, capturing her busy little hands in his. “You don’t know me.” In a gesture that tore at her, he lifted their joined hands to his lips. “You don’t know the real me. All I care about, all I feel, is a passion for my work. There’s not room for anything else.”

  “Or anyone else?”

  “I don’t want anyone in my life.” He stared at her hands resting in his. “I really don’t.”

  It was hard to reconcile this man with the abrupt, gruff one that she usually saw. Both were passionate, fierce, intelligent. But this Joe...this one she could really like. She told him so.

  He let her hands go. “I don’t want you to like me.”

  “You can control your computers, Joe,” she said softly. “But you can’t control me.”

  “I can control this,” he contradicted her. “I can and I will. Because it would be a mistake, Caitlin. We would be a huge mistake. You’d get hurt, and I...”

  “Yes?” she wondered with patience. “You’d what? You’d maybe get hurt, too? Well, isn’t that what life’s all about?”

  “Dammit, we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you, and how you’d feel when it was over. Afterward.”

  Now she laughed, though without a lot of humor. “I never said I wanted you, Joe.”

  “You do.”

  She let out a genuine chuckle. “Okay, maybe I do. But don’t panic—it’s just physical. Pure and simple. I’d be crazy to want more with you.”

  But she was crazy, she thought. And she did want more, much more. She sidled up close, batted her lashes at him flirtatiously. “Come on, Joe. Let’s play.”

  “No. No way.” He nearly ran to the door.

  Just before he shut it, she called out, “So can I have the raise?”

  8

  CAITLIN SPENT THE WEEKEND in a strange state of awareness. Friday night, she went dancing with Amy, where they met Tim and Andy and had a great time.

  Caitlin realized how much more these friends meant to her than any others she’d ever had.

  Things had changed for her, she decided. They’d changed with her father’s death, with her new job. Once she’d lived her life casually, without thought to past or future, but no longer.

  For the first time, she had people in her life who cared about the real Caitlin, not the spoiled rich one.

  Everything else—her financial woes, her worries of what would happen to her future—paled in comparison to that.

  Somehow, in the past few months, priorities had shifted.

  Now when she looked in the mirror, she no longer saw a pampered woman, but one who lived, laughed, cared....

  One who loved.

  BY MONDAY CAITLIN WAS
already out of money—again—and very tired of taking the bus.

  To cheer herself up, she’d spent the last of her pocket change on doughnuts from Amy’s stand. And while this endeared her greatly to Tim and Andy, she didn’t imagine the scale in her bathroom was going to be so kind.

  As she went into the small office kitchen, she glanced down at herself and rolled her eyes. Even wearing one of those bras that promised to control and contain—whatever the heck that meant—she still spilled out of whatever she wore. The flowered print dress she had on today dipped a little low in front, emphasizing the problem. And was it her fault her hips strained against the soft cotton? Nope, she decided, taking another bite of a huge chocolate-buttermilk roll. She might as well face it; she was never going to be a waif.

  She studied her image in the front of the steel-door refrigerator. Wild blond bob. Red lips. Big eyes.

  “You’re beautiful, you know.”

  Jumping a little, she faced Vince. He shot her a little smile and gestured to the door she’d been using as a mirror. “You don’t have to check,” he said. “You are.”

  “I’d rather be known for my brains.”

  She said this with such disgust, he laughed. Then he sobered, stuck his hands into his trouser pockets and came closer. “I saw you and Joe on Friday. You know...in his office.”

  So Vince had interrupted their kiss!

  “I don’t want to see you get hurt,” he said carefully. He squared his shoulders. He didn’t have a single wrinkle. He was a man who appreciated fine clothes, a man with expensive tastes, a man after her own heart...and she didn’t feel anything but a sisterly sort of affection.

  What was wrong with her?

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to get involved with him.”

  Her brain, protesting the early hour, went on full alert. “Vince, he’s your boss and your friend.”

  “I know. And I care about him very much.” Vince met her gaze, and she knew he was genuinely sad. “But I care about you, too. Joseph’s not easy on women, Caitlin. They come in and out of his life in a heartbeat. He rarely looks back.”

  Her unease grew. “We shouldn’t be discussing this. It’s not right.”