Beguiling the Boss

Couldn’t he?

Jennifer Dunning was walking, talking temptation. And Marsh certainly wasn’t immune to women. Every man needed R & R now and then. But he was confident he could handle the situation—and her. Hell, they’d be in two separate offices located in two separate rooms.

He sighed. He’d be fine … if she turned out to be a nice, quiet assistant who did her job and stayed out of his way.

A woman who drives like that? Not a chance. “So, when can you start?” he asked, holding out hope she would say as soon as next week.

As if she hadn’t heard, Jennifer glanced around the room. “Have you found someone for the housekeeping position?”

Marsh frowned. “No, why do you ask? Does the place look that messy?”

She smiled. “Not at all. The ad online mentioned living quarters for the housekeeper attached to the house.”

He nodded, curious. What was she getting at? “Yes … why?”

She didn’t hesitate. “I can start tomorrow, if I can move into those quarters until you hire a housekeeper. I have my stuff in my car.”

Dead silence, for a moment. “You brought all your things with you on the basis of an interview?” Marsh asked. “What if I hadn’t hired you?”

Jennifer shrugged. “I’d have found something else, somewhere else. I’m not in a hurry. But no, I didn’t bring all my things.” She flashed a brilliant smile at him, and this one Marsh felt from his hairline to his … never mind. “I would have needed an 18-wheeler for that.”

Uh-huh, he thought, aching in all the wrong places and wondering if he had just made the biggest mistake of his life. “Miss Dunning, are you certain you want this job?”

“Jen,” she said.

“What?”

“I prefer Jen,” she answered. “And yes, I am certain. I wouldn’t have bothered interviewing if I didn’t want it.” She gave him a strange look. “Why, have you changed your mind?”

“No.” Marsh gave a quick shake of his head, ignoring the voice inside himself that was telling him to take the out she’d just offered. “I haven’t changed my mind … Jen.”

“Okay, then can I use the housekeeper’s living quarters temporarily?”

“Yeah, sure, why not,” he said. “Considering the kind of responses I’ve had, it might be a while.”

She frowned. “Exactly what kind of responses have you received?”

He shrugged. “Oh, things like, ‘it’s too isolated,’ ‘too far from Dallas or any other decent-size city,’ and on and on.”

“Too isolated?” Jen repeated in a tone of disbelief. “There are a lot of towns in this area. From what I gather, the entire hill country is overrun with tourists.” She paused, and seemed to size him up for a moment, as if suddenly questioning the wisdom of what she’d just done. “That was one of the reasons I asked if I could have the housekeeper’s quarters. I wasn’t certain I could find accommodations anywhere close by.”

Marsh ignored the way she was looking at him. “Well, glad to be of help,” he said, as neutrally as possible.

She relaxed and flashed that smile. “I think the location is perfect.”

Marsh felt as if a cool finger had just trailed his spine. Ignoring it, he said the first thing that jumped into his rattled mind.

“Would you like to look at the apartment now?”

“Yes, please.” Finishing off her coffee, she stood and started for the door. “I’ll go get my stuff.”

“I’ll help you,” Marsh said. “Drive your car around to the garages at the side. There’s a private entrance to the apartment there.”

To Marsh’s surprise, Jen didn’t have all that much. He had expected to find her car packed solid with all the “necessities” most of the women he knew needed for a week away. But Jen had two suitcases, a canvas carry-on bag, a computer case and a midsize carton, which drew a mild grunt from him when he hoisted it from the trunk.

“Books,” she said, smiling at him.

“No kidding,” Marsh said, sliding the heavy carton under one arm. “And I was just about to tell you how light you were traveling.”

“A girl’s got to have her books,” Jen said as she headed off in the direction he indicated, giving him a luscious view that made him sure he was going to regret the day Jennifer Dunning came into his life.

As they walked through the garage to the apartment, Jen took note of the four very expensive cars parked in each bay and the workhorse truck in the fifth one. The cars—and the garage itself—were cleaner than the interior of the house. Jen smiled to herself as Marsh crossed the spotless cement floor to a side door.

“Will you get the door, please? It’s unlocked.”

“Of course,” she said, skirting around him to open it and stepping back for him to precede her. Nodding in thanks, he started up a flight of stairs. To her surprise, the stairway led into a long hallway inside the house, not above the garage, as she had assumed. So, the quarters weren’t attached to the house, they were inside the house.

Mmm, she mused, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. That thought was immediately followed by, Oh, grow up, Jennifer, surely Mr. Grainger wouldn’t try anything with his assistant, would he? At the thought, Jen felt a strange twinge in the pit of her stomach that wasn’t altogether unpleasant.

She ignored the sensation and decided she was being ridiculous. The door would have a lock … or so she hoped.

Dropping the suitcase, Marsh dug a ring of keys from his pocket and removed one, unlocking and opening the door. “After you,” he said, standing back to let her pass.

“Thank you.” Jen entered, pleasantly surprised by the cozy living room. She heard him sigh behind her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, following her into the room. “The place needs a good cleaning. If I’d have known …”

“It’s fine,” she said, cutting him off. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Possibly I could get the young woman who used to help out once a week before the housekeeper …”

“It’s all right. Really.” She smiled. “I learned how to clean from the best.” Jen was on the move as she spoke, checking out the bedroom, the bathroom, the small dining area and lastly the kitchen. He trailed behind her.

Making a quick turn, she almost crashed into him.

“Sorry.” They spoke in unison.

Jen laughed.

Marsh smiled. “So, what do you think?”

“I like it,” she said. “This kitchen is fabulous.”

“You can cook?”

She swung a wicked grin at him. “I’m a damn good cook. I practically grew up with the chef in my mother’s kitchen.”

“Uh-huh.” He hesitated before saying, “I’m a disaster in the kitchen. The last decent meal I had was in a restaurant two weeks ago.”

“Too bad,” she commiserated with him. “I love to cook.”

“Wanna get paid for it?”

Jen frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll up your salary by half if you’ll take over the cooking in the main kitchen downstairs.”

Jen extended her hand to him. “You’ve got yourself a cook.” Her palm tingled at the touch of his rough, callused skin against hers. It wasn’t the first time—she had felt the same sensation when they had shaken hands before, only then she had put it down to nervousness over the interview. Then there was that funny twist in her midsection a short time ago.

She didn’t know what it all was exactly, but she didn’t like it.

Fortunately, the contact lasted only a moment. He released her hand and moved to the door, pausing again to glance back at her.

“You don’t have to start your administrative duties tomorrow, as you offered. Take the next three days to get set up in here. I’ll be in my office. If you need anything—” he nodded at the slim phone on the countertop “—just hit number one. Any questions?”

“Yes,” Jen said. “Since I assume there is no food here, where is the nearest grocery store?”

He frowned.

Jen had the distinct impression he frowned a lot.

“I thought you were going to cook in the kitchen downstairs.”

Men. Squashing an urge to roll her eyes, Jen made do with a silent sigh. “I will need a few things in here, as well. You know, coffee, milk, other staples.” Straight-faced, she admitted, “I’m a night snacker.”

A shade of a smile crossed his lips. Jen had another distinct impression: that he didn’t smile all that often. Shame. It was quite an attractive smile.

“Look, leave the grocery shopping until tomorrow. There is stuff in the downstairs kitchen—in the pantry, fridge and freezer. If you’ll come along now, you can take things for tonight and make a shopping list for tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Jen followed him from the room. Getting to the kitchen was simple. They walked to the end of the hallway to a large landing, where a broad open staircase curved down to an equally broad foyer at the front of the house.

At the bottom of the stairs, Marsh turned left and strode along another hallway that led to the kitchen at the back of the house. By Jen’s calculations, her new living quarters were directly above the kitchen and formal dining room. From the dining room’s sliding glass doors, she caught a glimpse of a large patio and a swimming pool.

Gorgeous property, nicer than the too-formal look of her parents’ home, she was thinking. What will it feel like to live in a place like this as the hired help?

“Okay, the kitchen’s all yours,” Marsh said. “I’ve got work to do.”

“Wait,” Jen said.

He frowned again but this time, impatience flashed across his features, making them look severe. Slowly, he raised one eyebrow.

If he meant to intimidate, he succeeded.

But Jen was not about to let him know it. “Jot down a few of your food preferences,” she said, fully aware that her request sounded like an order. “Meanwhile, I’ll start a list of the things we’ll need.” She raised an eyebrow right back at him. “Okay?”

He sighed, gave her a terse nod and left the room.

When he was gone, Jen exhaled. Working for Marshall Grainger was going to be a challenge, in a number of ways, not the least of which was remaining professional and not losing her temper right along with him.

Finding a notebook and pencils in a drawer, she began opening cabinets. None of them contained foodstuffs; a few were completely empty. Then she discovered the double pantry next to the fridge. Now she was getting somewhere. There were plenty of dried foods: flour, sugar, cereals and canned goods, except for soup. There were only two cans in an otherwise empty area.

She stared at the shelf for a moment, wondering whether her new employer didn’t like soup, or loved it so much it was a regular for him.

Recalling his words, she shook her head. He had admitted to being a lousy cook. Conclusion? The man had been practically living on soup. After checking out the fridge, she added sandwiches to the list of things he’d been living on. Other than two slices of cheese wrapped in plastic, a nearly empty carton of eggs, a small package of bacon, a half-empty carton of milk and a couple of slices of bread, along with some beer and soda, the fridge was empty.

Jen opened the freezer door on the side-by-side. Now, this looked better. The freezer was packed and everything was dated. Maybe there was hope for Marsh Grainger after all, she thought with a smile.

Her shopping list completed, she sent a slow look around the room. The countertop looked spotless, as if very recently cleaned. Hmm, she mused. Had her boss given it a quick cleaning before she arrived?

Had he done that for her benefit?

Giving herself a mental get-with-it shake, she glanced at the clock.

It was eight minutes after three. Jen figured she had time enough to clean the kitchen. But first, dinner. She rummaged around in the freezer and grabbed a package of ground turkey and a bag of mixed veggies with an herb sauce. Within minutes she had a turkey stew cooking in the slow cooker on the counter.

Turkey stew would have to do. Smiling at her silly rhyme, she pulled out some cleaning supplies, slipped on a pair of plastic gloves and got down to the business at hand.

A couple hours later, her skin moist with perspiration from her efforts, Jen stood in the kitchen doorway admiring the results. The room was spotless. A sense of satisfaction brought a small smile to her lips—Ida would be proud.

After touching the floor tiles to see if they were dry, Jen walked to the phone and hit the 1 button.

“What is it, Ms. Dunning?”

Jen didn’t miss the exasperated note in Marshall’s voice. Keeping her own voice carefree and chipper, she said, “Dinner is ready whenever you are.” She paused, then deliberately added, “sir.”

“Thank you. But don’t call me that.”

His tone had lightened a bit. Jen smirked. “You’re welcome.”

“I’ll be there in a little while.”

“Take your time, it will keep. I’m going up to my place now.”

“What about you?”

She couldn’t quite read his meaning. Was he worried she wanted to dine with him? Or did he want her to? “I’ve eaten, thank you. What time would you like breakfast?”

“Is six-thirty okay with you?”

Good grief, was he actually asking her instead of telling her? “Yes,” she briskly answered, “six-thirty will be fine.” She waited a heartbeat before saying, “Good night, sir.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, Jen hit the off button, leaving the room with a jaunty step.

Two

Jen sat in a comfortable chair, sipping hot coffee while gazing around the living room in her new quarters. Though not very large, the room was cozy and would be even better with a bit of decorating.

She’d get at the cleaning tomorrow. Since she had the next three days off, she could take her time, she thought. But as she tried to make a mental list of everything she wanted to do, her mind kept drifting … to her new employer.

What was his deal, anyway? She mused, hearing an echo of his hard voice, seeing again the sharpness of his steel-gray eyes.

Tough man, Marshall Grainger. Though she had never seen him in person before, Jen had seen him in the paper and had heard about him. And there was plenty to hear—good and bad, but never indifferent.

He had married young, and divorced soon after—a sticky affair from what Jen had heard. She gathered that the young woman, a genuine beauty, had expected Marsh to introduce her into the highest social circles in Texas. But apparently Mr. Marshall Grainger wasn’t into the social scene, and never had been. So, goodbye wife—and goodbye to a large slice from his money pie.

But, rumor had it, his mother had done the same deal to his father, and Marsh was one bitter man. He disdained women, while not above using them for his own convenience.

Luckily for her she was only here to work. She had no interest in Marsh Grainger, and she intended to keep it that way. So what if he was as handsome as the day was long? Jen had never had a problem keeping her cool around good-looking men—she wasn’t about to start now.

She rose from the comfy chair and walked to the kitchen to rinse her cup. It was time to put clean sheets on the bed, have a shower and hit the sack. Breakfast for my steely-eyed boss at six-thirty, she reminded herself.

Jen had a full breakfast of bacon, eggs, hash browns, toast and fresh coffee ready when Marsh strode into the kitchen at precisely six-thirty the next morning. Unlike most CEOs going to work, he was dressed in faded jeans, a chambray shirt and well-worn running shoes.

He looked terrific.

“Good morning,” she greeted him cheerily, dishing up the meal onto two plates.

“Urmph,” he responded as he seated himself at the solid-oak table.

Jen stifled a smile and placed his breakfast in front of him, then put her plate on a tray and started to head upstairs.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his forkful of eggs in midair between his plate and his mouth.

Gritting her teeth at his imperious tone, while reminding herself that this grouchy man was her employer, Jen managed to dredge up a pleasant reply. “I’m going upstairs.”

He motioned at the chair opposite. “Have a seat. There are a few things I want to go over with you.”

Offloading her food from the tray to the table, Jen sat and patiently watched him enjoying her culinary efforts.

“Eat,” he said, snapping off a bite of crisp bacon with his strong white teeth. “We can talk over coffee.”

They ate the meal in dead silence. Jen was tempted to speak, but she squashed the urge, determined to make him start the conversation.

As soon as he sat back and laid his napkin beside his plate, Jen was on her feet, clearing. Deliberately making him wait, she stashed the dishes in the dishwasher before pouring the coffee and then sitting down again. Wrapping her hands around the mug, she looked directly into his eyes, and was startled to find herself fascinated by the odd silvery color. She again felt that funny tingling sensation inside, deep inside, and again she didn’t like it. The feeling was too … too out of her control. She quickly looked away.

“I’ll be leaving later this morning,” he said. “I have a few business appointments. You’ll have the place to yourself for the entire weekend as I won’t be back until Monday.”

A strange relief washed through her at the thought that she wouldn’t have to see Marsh for a few days. It was mixed with a sense of disappointment that she chose to ignore. “Great,” she said. “It’ll give me plenty of time to get settled in.”

“You have no reason to be concerned about being alone here. I have—”

Jen frowned, interrupting. “Actually, I like being alone.”

Marsh leveled a cool look at her; apparently he didn’t appreciate being interrupted. “Any woman should be afraid of being alone on a property this size,” he growled. “I’m a wealthy man. That, plus the size of the place, makes it a target. In addition to a man who takes care of the horses, I have security all over the grounds.”

“I didn’t notice any security when I drove up,” she said, taking a sip of the coffee.

He gave her a wry look. “That’s the idea—you’re not supposed to notice them. But trust me, they were there, and I was notified of your arrival.”

“You have horses?” she asked, ignoring his tone.

“Yes, I have horses.”

When he didn’t add anything further, she asked, “What about the office work?”

“That can wait until Monday. I brought everything up to date before you arrived.” He lifted a hand to a breast pocket and withdrew a white bank envelope and a small black leather case. “That should be enough cash to purchase whatever you need,” he said. “The case is an alarm. If you hear or see anything that doesn’t seem right to you, press the button. There will be security here in minutes. It will also open the garage. I’m going to pull the truck out so you can park your car.”

Sighing, she reluctantly took the case.

He frowned at her. “Keep it with you at all times. And that’s an order.”

“Yes, sir.”

His eyes narrowed. “Oh, and I also listed a few of my favorite meals … as you asked,” he added in a dry-as-dust tone.

“Thank you.” Jen pushed back her chair and stood. “If you’ll excuse me now, I’m going up to clean the apartment … unless you have other instructions for me?” She raised her brows.

He nodded his head, also standing. “There is one more thing.” He sent a slow glance around the room. “You did a good job on the kitchen. It’s spotless.”

A tiny smile played at the corners of her mouth. “Not quite,” she said. “The curtains need laundering.”

For a moment Marsh simply stared at her, then, with a shake of his head, he started for the hallway. “I’ll see you sometime Monday.” With that he strode from the room.

Jen watched him go, wondering just what kind of power struggle she had gotten herself into with Marsh Grainger.

She spent the rest of the day giving the apartment a thorough cleaning. By the time she looked up, it was time for supper. Yet as busy as she was, there were moments—too many, to Jen’s way of thinking—when thoughts of Marsh pushed past her guard to tease her imagination.

Jen didn’t appreciate his intrusion. He was her employer. Period. Nothing more. Who was he, really, other than a tough and bitter man? In all truth, he had a right to his bitterness, but it was none of her concern.

Still, the thoughts persisted. Why? In a word, Marshall Grainger was all male. A ruggedly handsome, sexy-as-hell male at that.

Startled by her last thought, Jen gave herself a mental shake. Get it together, woman, she told herself. Marsh may be all those things, but he uses women, and you don’t want any part of that.

Forget him and get back to work.

When she had finished cleaning, Jen took a long, soothing shower, slipped into a nightshirt, then sat down with her laptop to contact her friends. Naturally there were emails from every one of them, demanding more information. She sent them a group email back, saying she had gotten a new job and would get back to them later, after she had settled into the position and had more complete information to offer.

The fact of the matter was, Jen was not quite ready to tell her friends what had happened to send her running from her home. Nor was she ready to tell them that she was living under Marsh Grainger’s roof. Tired, muscles aching from the unusual flurry of physical activity, Jen was then content to drop into bed early. With any luck, she’d fall asleep quickly before she had time for more thoughts of Marshall Grainger.

Saturday morning Jen woke refreshed if still a bit achy, proof of the fact that she had been idle too long. She had stayed in shape playing tennis and horseback riding whenever she could, but while musing on her future options during the past several weeks she had barely left her apartment. The cleaning exercise had done her good.

She dressed in designer jeans, a pin-tucked white shirt and flat-heeled boots. Deciding to grab breakfast in town, she left the house for her shopping spree.

She looked inside the envelope Marsh had given her. Along with the short list of his favorite meals and directions to the nearest mall, Marsh had left her a ridiculous amount of money. Jen rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face.

Either Marsh Grainger had no idea what things actually cost, or he was an extremely generous man underneath that gruff exterior.

It was a lovely, warm autumn day, perfect for shopping. As she headed down the driveway, Jen kept an eye out for signs of the security he had told her about. She didn’t see hide nor hair until she neared the stone pillars flanking the entranceway. A short distance off the road, barely visible, an all-terrain vehicle was parked next to a low hanging tree. As she drove through the entranceway, she thrust her arm out the window and waved as she hit the horn. She laughed as she received a wave and toot in return.

Well, at least the security is friendly, Jen thought, applying a little pressure to the gas pedal. She drove first to the mall Marsh had mentioned, and went into the first shop she came to displaying home decorations.

Not into knick-knacks, Jen chose three pictures in three different sizes. The smaller pictures she chose were pastoral scenes, one of a field covered with Texas bluebonnets, the other of a basket of wildflowers set on one end of a long library table. But the largest one, for the living room, was a rendering in black-and-white of a ship, alone on a wide sea. For some reason, it reminded her of Marsh, alone in that big, remote house.

The thought sent a little shiver through her. Now, that’s simply ridiculous, she chided herself, trying and failing to ignore the feeling. There’s no reason to be thinking of Marsh as a lonely man—in fact, that’s just plain dangerous. Pushing away her thoughts, Jen left the mall and headed for the supermarket.

The sun was beginning to set as Jen drove back onto the property. Her glance automatically shifted to the tree. There was a vehicle there, but a different one. Again she hit the horn and waved, and again she was greeted in kind.