In Love With The Boss

“Mr. Trent!” Sadie’s attempt at sounding outraged was embarrassingly muffled by his bare chest pressing against her face. A soft dark fuzz tickled her nose as she struggled to free herself from the tight embrace.

Mindful of his injured foot, she pried his arms open and wriggled out of his hold. Glaring down at him, she said stiffly, “I’ll get the comforter from the bed.”

His only answer was to drop one eyelid in a roguish wink.

Feeling more than a little flustered, Sadie marched into the bedroom, dragged the quilt off the bed and carried it back to the couch. Jordan Trent, judging by the closed eyes and loud snoring, appeared to be fast asleep this time.

Even so, she kept a wary eye on him while she tucked the comforter around his body. He didn’t move, and after a moment’s hesitation, she rested the back of her hand against his forehead. His skin felt cool and dry.

Satisfied, she left him sleeping and went back into the kitchen to tackle the cluttered mess in there.

An hour later she had the counters cleared, the dishes washed and stacked, and the floor picked up and wiped over as best she could with the frayed string mop she’d found propped up outside on the veranda.

The only source of heat she could find was a small electric fan heater, which turned out to be quite effective in the cramped confines of the living room. In fact, she opened the door to the bedroom and the bathroom while she worked in there, and by the time she had restored some order to the house, the whole place felt quite toasty.

Sneaking back into the living room, she peeked at the man still asleep on the couch, then began the task of picking up all the files and papers from the floor. A pair of crutches lay behind the couch. She picked them up and propped them against the wall within reach of the injured man.

After a few minutes she unearthed an expensive laptop computer from under a pile of blueprints. Obviously on loan from Jordan Trent’s office, she assumed. Casting a reproachful glance at her client, she wondered what his boss would say if he knew that an expensive piece of office equipment had been thrown on the floor and could easily have been stepped on.

She was disconcerted, to say the least, to discover Jordan Trent’s ice-blue eyes open and watching her with mild curiosity.

“Am I still dreaming,” he asked pleasantly, “or did some kind friend arrange for an angel of mercy to visit me?”

Clutching the computer to her chest, Sadie scrambled to her feet. “I hope you’re feeling better, Mr. Trent.”

“Jordan. And thank you for your concern. Apart from a dull hammering in my head and an agonizing burning sensation in my ankle, I imagine I’ll live. Now, who are you?”

Sadie put the computer down on the corner of the only table in the room. “Sadie Milligan. I’m the temp you hired. I did introduce myself earlier, but you were...not feeling very well. You probably don’t remember.”

She stood in awkward silence while Jordan Trent studied her face with narrowed eyes. “I guess I wasn’t dreaming then,” he said at last.

“Actually, you were rather drunk. Trying to replace your painkillers with brandy.”

He managed a grim smile. “That I do remember. Things got rather vague. I seem to—” He stopped short, and sent her another penetrating look. “Did I make a pass at you?”

“Not exactly. I believe you were simply trying to get warm.”

He nodded, obviously relieved. “I wouldn’t want to start off on the wrong foot.”

“Neither would I,” Sadie said emphatically.

Jordan closed his eyes as a spasm of pain crossed his face. “Seeing as I only have one good foot, that is,” he muttered.

“Oh, wait, I found your painkillers.” She hurried into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle off the counter. After running some cold water into a mug, she carried it back into the living room. “I guess it’s okay to take them now. I mean, after drinking all that alcohol...”

“I didn’t drink that much,” Jordan Trent said, taking the bottle from her. He shook two of the capsules into his hand and tossed them in his mouth.

Sadie handed him the mug and waited for him to swallow the pills. He looked a little pale, and she wondered if it was the pain in his ankle or the headache from the alcohol affecting him. “When did you last eat?” she asked abruptly.

He looked startled by the question. “Sometime last night, I guess. I tried scrambling some eggs this morning, but I had to sit down again and left them on too long. Where did you find the pills?”

“In the bathroom, underneath a pile of damp clothes.”

“Oh, those.” A look of embarrassment flitted across his face. “I threw them down there when I got home from the hospital yesterday. I apologize for the state of the place. I know it’s a mess but...” His voice trailed off as he looked around the room. “Well, I can see you’ve been busy. Did you perform the same miracle in the kitchen?”

“And the bedroom and bathroom,” Sadie said with a note of satisfaction in her voice. “Now all we have to do is get you clean and fed and—”

“Wait a minute.” He raised his hand as if to ward off any attempt by her to touch him. “Hold on one cotton-picking minute. I’m not moving off this couch. Not for you, not even for the president of the United States. I tried that this morning and I can tell you with absolute authority that the slightest movement of this ankle can cause unbearable, debilitating agony.”

Sadie lifted her chin and fixed him with the same stare she’d used on all five of her younger brothers and sisters when they’d balked at her commands. “You have to go to the bathroom sooner or later,” she said smugly.

Jordan’s dark brows raised a half inch. Before he could answer, she added, “Since your ankle is going to hurt then, you might as well get it all over in one go. You’ll be surprised how much better you’ll feel once you are showered, shaved and dressed.”

He seemed to be having trouble answering her. After a moment or two of spluttering, he muttered, “I asked for an office temp, not a nurse.”

Sadie shrugged. “I’m not a nurse. Not qualified, that is, but I’ve had lots of experience in taking care of injuries. My youngest brother broke his arm three times, and one of my sisters dislocated her shoulder, then there was the time Jason fell out of a tree and broke his wrist...”

Her client looked bewildered. “Jason?”

“My oldest brother.”

“How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

“Five.” She reeled off their names. “And I’m the eldest. I took care of all of them when they were growing up since both my parents worked and...” She let her voice trail off, disturbed by the stricken look on Jordan Trent’s face.

“What’s the matter?” she said quickly. “Are you hurting?”

He shook his head. “No, as a matter of fact the pain is easing, thanks to the pills.”

“You’re not dizzy, are you? I hope I didn’t give you the pills too soon.” Without thinking she stretched out a hand to feel his forehead, but he jerked back, avoiding her touch.

“I’m fine. But I think I need to go to the bathroom.” He started to remove the comforter, and she moved closer, ready to help him up.

Immediately he dropped the corner of the quilt and stared up at her. “I think I can manage this one on my own.”

“I don’t see how you can manage anything in that tiny bathroom.” Sadie reached for the crutches and held them out to him. “It must be quite a challenge, living in such cramped quarters.”

“I don’t live here.” Jordan struggled to lower his injured foot to the ground. “I live in a house at the beach with a master bathroom bigger than this entire miserable tub.” His words ended in a grunt of pain as he tried to stand.

“Of course you do, if you say so.” The poor man was fantasizing. She was beginning to worry that the combination of pills and booze had seriously affected his mind. Grabbing hold of his arm, she tried to steady him. “Lean on me, if it will help. I’m stronger than I look.”

He stared at her, clutching the quilt to his chest as if his life depended on his hanging on to it. “You really think I live here?”

She nodded, feeling a stab of sympathy for him. “Yes, I’m afraid you do.”

“You don’t know who I am?”

“You’re Jordan Trent,” Sadie said soothingly. “Don’t worry, it will all come back to you once the effect of the medication wears off.”

Jordan nodded slowly, as if he didn’t quite understand what she was saying. “And you’ve never heard of Gallagher Enterprises?”

Sadie shook her head. “I haven’t been in Portland long. Three weeks, actually. I don’t know much about the city. What kind of company is Gallagher Enterprises? Is that who you work for?”

She felt uneasy as she watched a strange expression creep over his face. He stared at her for several seconds without uttering a sound. Just as she was about to ask him if he needed to sit down again, he said softly, “Yes, that’s who I work for. Gallagher Enterprises. I’m a draftsman there.”

Sadie beamed in relief. “You see? I told you it would all come back. Now, you’ll need to let go of that quilt if you’re going to use these crutches.”

She looked discreetly away while Jordan dropped the quilt and adjusted his robe. “Thank you,” he murmured as he took the crutches from her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me...”

“Are you sure you don’t want my help?”

“I’m sure. I’m getting real good at this.”

She watched anxiously as he swung his long, lean body around the couch and started for the door. Unfortunately one of the crutches got hooked in the braided rug and before she could do anything to prevent it, he stumbled, toppled over and, with an explosive curse, landed smack on the floor.

Chapter Two

“Now look what you’ve done! Are you all right?” Sadie leaped toward her employer who lay quite still, sprawled inelegantly on his stomach.

“No,” his muffled voice answered carefully, “I am not all right. Not only am I in considerable pain, I am apparently unable to manage something as fundamental as reaching the bathroom. I am also finding it a little difficult to hold an intelligent conversation with my nose buried in this rug, which smells of used cat litter, by the way.”

“Here, let me help you.” Sadie grasped his shoulder with the intention of rolling him onto his back.

Jordan Trent, however, seemed to have a violent objection to being touched. Shaking off her hold, he struggled into a sitting position and looked balefully up at her. “Just give me a minute. I’ll manage.”

There was only one course of action, as far as Sadie was concerned. When someone behaved like a child, he deserved to be treated like one.

Folding her arms, she adopted a tone that had always worked well for her in the past. “Mr. Trent, I’m not here for the fun of it. I’m supposed to help you, and you are making it very difficult for me to do my job.”

“I apologize for that, Miss...whatever your name is—”

“Milligan.”

“Thank you. I’ll try not to forget again. However, I assure you I can manage to get myself to the bathroom. I managed quite well before you got here.”

“You don’t seem to be doing such a good job of it now,” Sadie calmly observed.

Jordan Trent’s face turned a dull red. “Oh, all right. Give me a hand here to get on my feet.” “Please.”

“Please give me a hand to get on my feet,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

Hiding a grin of triumph, she stepped behind him, grasped him under the armpits and shoved. It took a moment or two of struggling—Jordan Trent’s lean build was deceptive. He had to be carrying a lot of muscle weight. Eventually, however, after a lot of groaning and cursing on his part, she had him upright again and leaning heavily on his crutches.

“How did you manage to hurt your foot, anyway?” she asked him when she was sure he was balanced securely.

He avoided her gaze, concentrating on maneuvering the crutches. “I fell off a ladder.”

Poor man must have been trying to fix a hole in the roof, Sadie thought, feeling a stab of sympathy. He probably couldn’t afford to have someone do it for him.

She watched him take a step forward, terrified he might fall again. “Just be sure and lift the crutches high enough to miss the rug,” she warned, braced to grab him just in case he might topple over.

Without answering her, he hopped his way across the floor, then shuffled sideways through the door into the bedroom.

Sadie followed him, keeping a wary eye on his progress.

Jordan halted at the door of the bathroom and peered at her over his shoulder. “I’ll have to leave the crutches with you. There isn’t enough room to move in there as it is, without these two damn broomsticks getting in the way.”

She took them from him, then waited in an agony of apprehension until she heard the reassuring sound of the toilet being flushed.

A moment later the door opened and Jordan stood in the doorway, supporting himself with one hand on the frame. “Are you still here?” he mumbled, sounding as if he’d hoped she’d vanished into thin air.

Sadie sighed. The truth was, she was feeling more than a little sorry for him. Apart from his injury, it was obvious some other misfortune had happened to him, and it must have been substantial.

His speech and lofty attitude clearly told her that at one time he’d been used to a more comfortable life-style. Yet here he was, not only reduced to living in appalling conditions, more than likely half starved, but temporarily crippled, as well. Obviously his company must have felt sorry for him and hired him a temp.

It had to be terrible for a man like Jordan Trent to have to deal with such a come-down. No wonder he was so defensive and irritable. Sadie’s kind heart ached for the poor man. “You’ll feel much better when you’ve showered and shaved,” she said soothingly.

He looked as if he would like to strangle her. “Miss Milligan,” he said, speaking slowly and distinctly, “in case you haven’t noticed, there is no shower in this miserable excuse for a bathroom. Even if there were, I would not be able to use it with this lump of plaster on my foot.”

If his voice rose a fraction, Sadie chose to ignore it. Meeting his steely gaze without flinching, she said calmly, “You could use the tub if you drape your foot over the edge.”

“I could, if I were a contortionist, which I am not. Nor do I have any desire to learn how to be one. I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with my dishevelled, unwashed state for the time being.”

She gave her head a decisive shake. “I’m sorry, Mr. Trent, but I’m afraid I must insist. Not only will you feel better, it will help achieve a more professional atmosphere.”

His eyebrows arched. “I’m sorry that you find my appearance offensive. Maybe I’d better find someone less particular.”

In spite of her sympathy for his plight, Sadie was beginning to lose patience. She took a couple of steps toward him. “You know very well you’d have to wait another day to replace me. In the meantime, you’d lose valuable work time. Besides, I doubt very much if you’d find anyone else willing to take care of you like this. I’m breaking all the rules, you know.”

Jordan frowned. “If you must know, Miss Florence Nightingale, I know plenty of women who’d jump at the chance of taking care of me. Now please hand me my crutches. I’m tired and I want to go back to that uncomfortable lumpy couch and read the newspaper.”

Ignoring his wishful comment about the other women, she said evenly, “Not until you’ve bathed and shaved.”

“And just how am I supposed to accomplish that?”

“I’ll help you.”

A gleam appeared in the ice-blue eyes. “Well, that should prove interesting, to say the least.”

Feeling she’d stepped on shaky ground, Sadie lifted her chin. “I’ll fill the tub for you. If you sit on the edge and swing one foot in, you should be able to ease yourself down in there, leaving your injured foot hanging over the edge.”

For a long moment he held her gaze, while she wondered frantically what was going on in his mind, then he let out a long sigh. “All right, I can tell you’re not going to stop whining about it, so let’s get it over with. Though I warn you, if I get stuck in there, you’ll have to haul me out.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage beautifully.”

Jordan grunted. “You’ll find a large bath towel in the chest under the bed. Get it for me, will you?”

She waited pointedly until he muttered, “Please,” as an afterthought. Wondering if perhaps she hadn’t taken on more than she could handle, she went down on her knees and peered under the bed. When she stood again, the striped towel in her hand, Jordan had disappeared from the doorway.

For a moment she thought he might have managed to get back to the couch without his crutches, but when she looked in the bathroom she found him sitting on the toilet, his face white and drawn.

“Are you all right?” she asked anxiously.

“A little light-headed, that’s all.”

“I’ll cook you a meal just as soon as you get dressed,” she promised. “You’ll feel better when you’ve eaten something.”

He looked up at her, and she felt an odd tug at her heart. Right then he looked for all the world like a helpless, sulky little boy. “That’s if I manage to survive this torture,” he muttered.

She smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m quite sure you’ll be able to handle things just fine.”

He studied her in silence for a long moment, then said quietly, “Your family must miss you a great deal.”

Surprised by the comment, she shrugged. “I know I miss them, but I have to admit, it’s nice not to be constantly at their beck and call.”

“They don’t live here?”

“Lakeview. Still in Oregon, but not close enough to drop in on me every day.”

“Your husband must like that.”

“I don’t have a husband,” Sadie said, ignoring the little skip of her heart. She handed him the towel, then edged past his knees to turn on the faucets in the tub. Her mouth twitched when she envisioned Mrs. Simpson’s reaction if she walked in on them now.

She’d probably lose her job, Sadie thought as she tested the water gushing out of the tap. After adjusting the temperature to her satisfaction, she placed the stopper in the freshly cleaned drain, then straightened.

Unnerved to find Jordan Trent watching her with intense interest, she dried her hands on the hand towel. “There, that should do it.”

“Thank you, Miss Milligan.”

She frowned. “I’d rather you call me ‘Sadie’ if that’s all right with you?”

“I think I can manage that, if you’ll call me Jordan.”

She thought about that. “I guess that’s okay, though I don’t think Mrs. Simpson would approve.”

“Mrs. Simpson?”

“The battle-ax who owns the Helping Hands Agency. You know, Helping Hands. You must have talked to her when you called.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t call. That was Amber. She’s...er...the boss’s secretary.”

“Oh.” She wasn’t going to say so, but it seemed to her that if the boss could afford a secretary, he could at least pay his employee enough for him to find a decent place to live instead of this damp, rundown old boathouse. Obviously draftsmen didn’t earn as much as she’d thought they did.

“I didn’t see any soap in here,” she said, watching the water rise steadily up the sides of the tub.

“There’s some in the kitchen.”

“I’ll get it. Don’t move until I get back.”

“I have no intention of moving,” he said grimly.

Sadie hurried back to the kitchen, wondering what on earth she’d do if he couldn’t get himself out of the tub. She wasn’t feeling nearly as confident as she’d like him to believe.

In spite of his shabby surroundings, Jordan Trent still managed to present a formidable front. She couldn’t help wondering just what tragedy had reduced such a seemingly powerful man to living apparently on the edge of poverty.

Perhaps he was paying out alimony and child support to an ex-wife, and that was why he couldn’t afford a decent place to live.

Deciding that was it, since he obviously didn’t have a wife to take care of him, Sadie found the soap and headed back to the bathroom. Jordan sat where she left him, watching the water gushing into the tub.

Sadie dropped the soap into the water and turned off the faucets. “Now,” she said, beginning to feel more than a little awkward, “you should be able to manage the rest by yourself.”

He uttered a grunt of derision. “I’ll yell if I get stuck. Just remember this was all your brilliant idea.”

Praying that she wouldn’t have to help him out of the tub, Sadie scrambled out of the bathroom and left him to it.

She spent the next several minutes pacing back and forth in the tiny bedroom, listening to the sounds of splashing from the bathroom and tensed to leap in there at the slightest sound of distress.

To her immense relief, when the summons came, Jordan was already out of the tub. Still looking far too pale, he sat once more on the toilet seat. With nothing but the towel wrapped around his waist, he still managed to intimidate her.

Tiny drops of water clung to the dark fuzz on his chest, Sadie noticed before she snatched her gaze away. “Are you all right? Can I get you anything?”

“Clothes would be nice.”

“Oh, of course. Where will I find them?”

“I keep a sweat suit and clean underwear in the chest where you found the towel.”

“I’ll get them. Do you have an electric razor?”

“In the kitchen.”

“I’ll get that, too.”

Glad for an excuse to leave, Sadie hurried back to the kitchen. She was fast discovering that all her years of administering to her brothers and sisters had not prepared her for this particular situation.

Being enclosed in a small space with her half-naked employer was a challenging experience. She only hoped she could carry this off with as much composure as he seemed to enjoy.

While he was getting shaved and dressed, she examined the contents of the refrigerator. There didn’t seem to be much else in there except eggs, bacon and a carton of milk.

The freezer, however, held several frozen dinners, a couple of packets of hamburger, frozen vegetables, and a large carton of ice cream. Sorting through the packages on the counter, Sadie found a box of spaghetti and a jar of pasta sauce.

At least she had the makings for a decent meal, she thought as she collected what she needed. The microwave, much to her surprise, actually worked. It looked so ancient she imagined it had to be one of the first ever made. She threw the hamburger in there to thaw it out, then went back to the bathroom to check on Jordan.

He was waiting for her in his usual spot on the toilet seat. Freshly shaved and with his hair neatly combed back, he looked a lot more presentable. In fact, now that she took the time to really notice, Jordan Trent’s dark good looks would rival any of those hunks in the TV commercials.

Even the black sweat suit couldn’t detract from the imposing air with which he greeted her. “I was beginning to think you’d quit.”

“I am not a quitter, Mr. Trent.”

“So I see. And I seem to remember that we agreed on a first name basis.”

She didn’t know why she was having such a hard time using his first name. His home was certainly unimpressive, and he wasn’t even paying her salary. She had no need to feel intimidated by him.

She got the crutches for him and helped him back to the couch. She knew by the way he sighed when he collapsed upon it that he must still be hurting. It would be another three hours before he could take more medication, she thought, glancing at her watch.

Jordan leaned back and closed his eyes. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I do feel better now that I’m smelling sweet and clean again.”

Aware that he was making light of the situation, Sadie studied him with apprehension. His face was still white and drawn with pain. “I’ll have a hot meal ready for you in a short while,” she said, hoping that would help. “Perhaps you could take a nap while you’re waiting.”