Working Overtime

His mind slipped back to a picture of Grace, his ex-wife. She’d been just as pretty, but every time he thought of her now, all he saw was the haunting look of disappointment in her eyes. It had been four years since he’d seen her, but the memory of that look still had the power to make him bleed.

So he’d spent the last few years looking for love in all the wrong places—on purpose. No commitments, no promises, no more disappointed looks. Casual relationships were all he could handle. He’d thought he was beyond being easily aroused any longer. That is, until he’d heard Chareen Wolf’s voice in the library.

But that wasn’t what he’d come to California for and he couldn’t let himself get sidetracked. The TriTerraCorp CEO had taken him to lunch before he’d left Florida and made it very clear that there was a vice presidency riding on this job in California. That would be great. After all, wasn’t that what he had been working toward for the last few years?

Business, Not Pleasure. That was going to be his motto on this project. He’d promised himself as much, and he knew he had the self-discipline to keep that promise. But working side by side with Chareen Wolf was not going to make it any easier.

But wait a minute. Here was a thought. Why did they have to work together side by side? After all, he was the executive officer here. He set strategy, others implemented his orders. He could set it up in any way he chose, and a good way was beginning to form in his mind right now.

He glanced at Chareen. “You know,” he told her casually, “I understand that you are used to working without too much direct supervision. Your department head told me you are the best TriTerraCorp has got at this sort of thing.”

She gazed at him brightly. “Well, I think I’m pretty good at my job,” she admitted.

He smiled at her. “So I hear. And I’m sure you’d prefer to work without me breathing down your neck all the time. So how about this?” He leaned forward, giving her a direct look that seemed to startle her. “Why don’t you set up your own schedule and make your reports to me through Leonard Trask, your supervisor. That way, you’ll have complete autonomy, unless I find any problem with your work. Though I hardly expect to do that.”

She sat up a bit straighter and seemed excited. “That’s a great idea,” she told him. “So, in other words, I’ll reserve time at city hall to delve into the archives and go over the deeds, then set up my own interviews with sources, write up a report and hand it to Leonard, who will pass it on to you.”

“Exactly.” He was pleased to see she was as quick as he’d heard she was. But just a little surprised that she seemed as eager for this hands-off approach as he was. When you came right down to it, he wasn’t used to women finding excuses to avoid his company. But that was neither here nor there. “You’ll still be available for any follow-ups we might need, of course.”

“I love it,” she said, smiling from ear to ear, her eyes shining. “Mr. Greco, you’re going to spoil me.”

“Believe me, Ms. Wolf, you’re doing me a favor.”

Great. She was going for it. He stretched back in his chair and risked a smile. He was a genius.

“That,” he told himself silently, “is why they pay you the big bucks, Greco. You are the man with the plan.”

Chapter Two

Chareen shed her clothes with a sigh of relief and stepped into the shower as though it were a waterfall on a tropical mountainside. The water felt so good running through her hair and down over her skin, and it had been such a long day.

She’d picked up her two little ones, Ricky and Ronnie, at the day-care center and had driven them directly to their favorite fast-food restaurant for hamburgers. She’d then spent an hour trying to ward off constantly impending disaster as they charged through the room with the plastic balls and sailed down the long tube slide and climbed anything with a handhold. There was a lot of noise involved—and an apology to the man who was hit in the head with one of the plastic balls when her two wild ones had a ball war. And then there was the little girl who started crying because Ronnie made a face at her. But finally she’d been able to convince the boys to get back in the car and she’d dragged them back here to Casa del Mar, the old Victorian house where they were staying.

A sort of corporate bed-and-breakfast, the three-floor structure had been renovated to provide rooms for contract workers and other temporary visitors to TriTerraCorp. When she’d told Leonard, her supervisor, about having to find a place to stay while her house was being repaired, he’d suggested she stay there for the duration. Currently half empty, the house had plenty of room for her and her two boys.

“Just keep those kids quiet,” Leonard had warned her. “Some of the old-timers who stay at Casa del Mar are real cranky when it comes to the sound of kids.”

Keeping Ricky and Ronnie quiet would require depriving them of the power of speech, and even then they would surely pound on drums to get their message out. But she did her best, hurrying them in through the lobby area and up the stairs to the room on the second floor where they were staying. She bathed them, read them a story and put them to bed. At last, she had a few minutes to unwind.

And to think about what had happened at work. She’d been putting off thinking about it, because there were just too many ramifications to deal with all at once. Michael Greco had rocked her world, whether he knew it or not. She only hoped he didn’t know it.

And it wasn’t just that he looked so much like Danny. At least, she thought he did. She wished she’d brought a picture along when they’d moved in here so that she could get it out and take a look and see if this was all in her imagination. Funny how blurry his image was to her now. There had been a time when she’d been so in love with that face, she thought she’d die if she couldn’t be with him.

Well, she hadn’t been with him for a very long time now, and she was still very much alive—though it had been touch-and-go for a while there. Everyone had always warned her that Danny would disappear from her life. No one had expected it to happen quite the way it had, though, in a fiery car accident that took his life. And no one had known she would have two little red-headed boys to remind her of the love she’d had for too short a time.

She’d had three years to get over it, and she’d done a pretty good job. Her life was full of her kids, and her job, in that order. There was no room for anything or anyone else. Especially not a man who stirred up painful memories—and her long-dormant sensual imagination.

Slipping out of the shower, she dried herself with one of the big, fluffy towels that Hannah Schubert, the house manager, had stocked in the bathroom, then stepped into the bottoms of her Mickey Mouse shorty pajamas and pulled on the top. She twisted her hair into a clip at the back, slipped her feet into fluffy pink bedroom slippers and made a face as she caught sight of herself in the mirror. This was not a picture she would want anyone she knew to ever see.

Stopping to peek in on her sleeping babies, she paused and smiled, her heart full as she looked at them. Those adorable little angelic faces. Who could guess that all they were doing was storing up the energy to drive everyone crazy again as soon as possible?

She grinned and turned to go downstairs. Her stomach was grumbling. She’d been too busy to eat at the fast-food restaurant and a peanut butter sandwich would hit the spot right now.

She moved through the hallway with the confidence born of the knowledge that she was the only one home. Besides herself and her little family, four other people were living in the house right now. Hannah was the house mother and all-around coordinator of most of what went on here. And then there were two contract workers from Seattle who were busy improving the accounting software used by Financial, and an engineer from the Dallas office who was consulting on a sports stadium project. Hannah had gathered them all together to go out to the arena to see an all-star roster of country singers entertain, part of the rodeo that was in town. Chareen had been tempted, but she’d turned down the opportunity for a little fun. It was much more important to her to spend what time she could with her children.

She padded into the kitchen and looked around the room, enjoying the contrast to her own little tiny kitchen at home. The stove was a huge gleaming monstrosity, the refrigerator had three doors, side by side, the sink had all the latest attachments, and beautiful copper-bottomed pans hung over the center island. Think of the gourmet dinners she could concoct in this place. Sighing happily, she switched on the radio and reached into the bread box. A cha-cha came on the air and she began to sing along with it, adding a few dance steps with her pink-slippered feet at the same time.

Now where did Hannah keep the peanut butter?

Michael paused on the wooden steps and looked up at the beautiful old house. He was feeling better already. He needed sleep and he needed it soon. This looked like a place where he might be able to get it.

He knocked on the big wooden door with the beveled glass windowpanes, but there was no answer. In the distance, he could hear a radio playing, and the sound of someone singing. Trying the knob, he found it turned easily in his hand, and he went on into the entryway.

The place looked just as good inside as out. Polished hardwood floors gleamed in the lamplight. Persian carpets, neoclassic furniture, reproductions of works by Constable and Turner, and plenty of flower arrangements all combined to lend the place an air of quiet dignity and peaceful serenity. And most of all, after the wild scene at the hotel where rodeo rowdies caroused through the corridors all night long, there was the wonderful silence that lurked in the hallways.

Sighing happily, he set his leather suitcase and canvas suit carrier on the floor of the entryway and started toward where the radio was playing. He’d been told to ask for a Hannah Schubert, who managed the place. In just minutes, he was sure his head would be on a cool, crisp pillow. He could hardly wait.

Pushing open the swinging door to the kitchen, his gaze encountered a woman in baby doll pajamas and fluffy pink slippers, hair only half caught in a band at the back of her head. She was just taking a huge bite out of a peanut butter sandwich and catching sight of him at the same time.

“You’re not Hannah Schubert, are you?” he asked wryly, knowing the answer before the words were out of his mouth. For some reason, finding Chareen here didn’t really surprise him. After all, he’d been thinking about her all afternoon.

But Chareen seemed surprised. She gasped, breathed the wrong way and began to choke on the peanut butter. He was at her side in two quick strides, pulling her into the curl of one arm while he pounded on her back with the flat of his free hand. Funny. For such a slim thing, she felt solid and deliciously rounded against his arm. He wanted to keep her there for a while, but she was already fighting to get free of him and he let her go reluctantly.

“You!” she cried as she backed away, still coughing, her face red and her eyes watering. She couldn’t believe it. Was she cursed or something? There he stood, big as life, looking incredibly handsome with his hair mussed so that it fell over his forehead, his tie hanging loose and the top button of his shirt undone. He was so masculine and attractive, it made her ache inside. What had she done to deserve this?

“It must be kismet,” he was saying dryly, looking at her with a bemused smile. “We meet again.”

She would have kept on backing right out of sight if she could have, but the counter stopped her. Still staring at him, ready to jump should he make a move toward her, she licked the peanut butter from her fingers and reached for a paper towel to finish the job.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, embarrassed to be caught running around in her pajamas, intrigued by the sight of him and chagrined to think he might realize just how much she liked what she saw.

“What are you doing here?” he countered, looking her up and down and knowing he was being blatant about it, but unable to resist. She looked good enough to kiss, even in her present disheveled condition, and he realized he wasn’t as displeased as he should have been to find her thrust back into his day.

“I have permission to stay here,” she told him, drawing herself up rather grandly for a person who’d just been choking to death on peanut butter in his embrace. She pulled her arms across her chest in a defiant posture, meant to outweigh the picture she knew she made in her childish pajamas. “My house is being repaired and I needed a place to stay for a few days, so Leonard, my supervisor, suggested I stay here.”

“What a coincidence,” he told her, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “I have special permission to stay here, too.”

She frowned. That was all she needed. Surely he was mistaken. “No,” she said sternly. “You can’t stay here. This place is for contract workers and visitors from other branches of TriTerraCorp. You’re an executive. Executives stay at the hotel. The company has a very expensive suite for them.” She gestured with a jerk of her head. “You’ll have to go and stay there.”

“I’ve been,” he told her tranquilly. “And I left again. There’s a rodeo, you know.”

She blinked, thinking that over. “I know. But it’s not at the hotel.”

“It may not be, but the cowboys are. They’re riding the place hard and they plan to die with their boots on. I didn’t get any sleep at all last night. Tonight, I plan to sleep like a baby.”

Her shoulders drooped. She knew she’d probably lost this one. It was so annoying to see him standing there so easily, as though he belonged, telling her the way things were going to be. She wished with all her heart that she could honestly tell him there was just no vacancy. But the way things were going, he’d probably find a way to have her kicked out and take over her room.

“Okay,” she told him grudgingly, “but if you’re going to be staying here, you’ve got to promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Promise that you won’t keep sneaking up on me like this. I’m going to be jumpy as a cat for as long as you’re around.”

He grinned. He couldn’t help it. She was just so damn appealing. “I promise.”

“Good.” She heaved a sigh, as though that took a real load off her mind. “Okay, here are the rules. We’re all equal here. No bosses. No ordering anyone around. Everyone gets a bedroom, but we all share one bathroom on each floor. There’s a ‘knock three times and pause’ rule on all the doors, especially the bathroom door, because the locks are old and cranky. Sometimes they don’t work very well.”

She paused, waiting to see if that was enough to scare him away. When it obviously wasn’t, she sighed and went on. “You’re supposed to supply some of your own food, though Hannah keeps a stock of staples that everyone is welcome to use. She has them clearly marked. She makes breakfast available for all from six to seven-thirty every morning.”

He nodded, agreeing to the rules as she’d stated them. “That all sounds very good.” He flexed his shoulders. He would have liked to stay here chatting with her for hours. That husky voice of hers still worked its magic on his senses, and he had to admit, she was a hit in those diminutive pajamas. It just about made a man forget all about some ridiculous promises he’d made to himself.

She was acting skittish, but something told him she might be receptive with the right persuasion. Why not give it a try? A knowing smile, a touch, a raised eyebrow—he knew the ropes. He might even get her to share a bed with him this very night.

But, much as he was tempted, he knew he wasn’t going to do it. She wasn’t a player. She had all the earmarks of a woman who viewed marriage and family as a major goal, and that was the very kind of woman he avoided at all costs.

Besides, he was dead tired. He had to get some sleep. After one last regretful look at how cute her breasts looked under that ridiculous pajama top, he sighed and asked, “How do I find out which room I’ve got?”

She shrugged. “You’ll have to ask Hannah. She and everyone else in the place are at the rodeo. They’ll be back about midnight, I’m sure. Now, if you’ll just hand me the other half of my sandwich,” she added, pointing out where it lay on the counter behind him, “I’m going to bed.”

He picked up her sandwich but he didn’t hand it to her right away. “Midnight,” he said, frowning. “No, that’s impossible. I need a bed now.”

“Sorry,” she said, stepping closer to take her sandwich and turning as though about to flee.

“‘Sorry’ won’t help,” he said, grasping her wrist before she could pull away. “I’ve got to get some sleep. Now.”

She glared up at him. “What do you expect me to do about it?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I don’t know. Be a little helpful, maybe.”

Their gazes held a moment too long. That sense of awareness sizzled between them, and her heart was beating so loudly, she knew he had to hear it.

This was utterly ridiculous. How could she be standing here in these silly pajamas, with his hand holding her wrist in a viselike grip, feeling like a teenager with her first crush? Determinedly, she yanked her hand away and glared at him, rubbing her wrist.

But he hardly seemed to notice. “What rooms are empty?” he asked crisply.

“I don’t know,” she said, knowing she was acting like a sullen child but unable to help herself. “I don’t pay much attention.”

“Don’t you?” His gaze narrowed. “What floor are you on?”

“The second. But…”

“Are there any empty rooms near you?”

“That’s not the point.”

“There must be a room across the hall from you. Anyone in there?”

She hesitated. “Not that I know of, but that doesn’t mean…”

He started for the door. “It means I’m going to be sleeping there tonight.”

“You can’t,” she said, hurrying after him back to the entryway.

“Oh, can’t I?” He slung his suit carrier over his shoulder and picked up his suitcase, then turned to look at her. “Just watch me.” He gestured for her to lead the way. “After you, fair lady.”

She searched his eyes suspiciously, looking for any sign that he was making fun of her, but she couldn’t pin anything down.

“Why can’t you just camp out on the couch until they get back?” she suggested rather halfheartedly. She knew he wouldn’t go for it and he didn’t even bother to say so. Instead he waited, giving her a look of expectation, and she sighed and flounced off toward the stairs.

“The door might be locked,” she said over her shoulder as he followed her to the second floor. “The bed might not be made up.”

“I’ll sleep in the bathtub if I have to,” he said calmly, not even pretending he didn’t like the view he had in front of him going up the stairs. “Just give me a pillow and don’t turn on the shower. Once I fall asleep, I don’t plan to wake up again until morning.”

She hurried to put distance between them, but stopped in front of the room she was staying in.

“Here’s mine,” she said, cracking open the door to deposit the peanut butter sandwich just inside and to sneak a peek at her sleeping boys. They looked fine, and she closed the door again just as he arrived.

“And here’s the room you plan to hijack,” she said, trying the handle. It opened easily. She went straight to the bed and pulled back the bedspread. “I thought so. No sheets.”

“I’ll rough it.”

“No, you won’t.” She was scandalized. “I’ll find you sheets. Here, help me pull back the blanket. I’ll make your bed up for you. Just wait a minute.”

He pulled back the blanket as she’d suggested, then shrugged out of his jacket, pulled off his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt. All he wanted to do was fall down on the bed and close his eyes, but he waited while she opened drawers, looking for bedding.

Her hair had come completely loose by now, and it swirled around her pretty face in a way that made him want to kiss her nose. She looked so beguiling with the tanned skin of her long legs gleaming in the lamplight. But when she’d found the sheets and turned, coming back toward him, he had to laugh at the picture she made. Her legs were lovely, but it did look as though she were wearing two very angry Persian cats on her feet.

“What?” she said indignantly, stopping in her tracks. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, shrugging out of his shirt and dropping it onto a nearby chair. “Nothing at all.”

She was going to say more, but one look at his muscular chest rendered her speechless and she looked away quickly, praying that she wouldn’t turn red as she moved toward the bed with the fresh sheets. The picture Sherry had created in the calendar had nothing on the reality. It had been a long time since she’d been this close to a real live shirtless man. She wondered, fleetingly, if he would notice if she turned up the air conditioner. It seemed to be getting awfully hot in the room.

“Here, grab this side,” she ordered as she tossed the sheets down and began to pull the fitted one into place.

He did as he’d been told and they got the sheet on in no time. Chareen reached for the top one and gave it a swish, looked up and caught Michael’s eye as he grabbed his side, and her heart did a flip in her chest. There was something in the way he was looking at her…

“Pull it tight,” she ordered, avoiding his gaze and trying to keep her equilibrium. Just a few more minutes and she would be out of here.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his voice like a purr.

“Tuck it under, like this,” she said, demonstrating a hospital corner.

He gazed at her balefully. “What is the point?” he asked, making no effort to attempt one.

With an exasperated sigh, she charged around the end of the bed to do it herself, but he didn’t make way fast enough, and when he did move, it was in the wrong direction. She turned right into him, their bodies collided, and the next thing she knew, she was falling down onto the bed, and he was falling on top of her. She gasped. He broke his fall with his arms, bracing himself over her, looking down into her face.

“Sorry,” he said, but he didn’t move.

She knew she should say something, but she seemed to have lost all power of speech. Her gaze was locked with his, and she felt as though she were lost, wandering in the shadows of his hazel eyes, unable to find a way out. His hard, warm body was pressed to hers in so many places. To have a man so close, so strong, was unbelievably intoxicating. It had been so long since a man had held her in his arms and made sweet love to her.

Suddenly, she ached to have that feeling again. Her senses drank in every nuance of his presence, his clean, manly scent, the brush of his breath against her hair, the hard muscles of his thighs pressing on hers. Her hands were flattened against his naked chest, and she could feel his heart beating a pulse into her palm.

“I hold your heart in my hand.” The sentiment flickered through her mind and for one very scary moment, she was afraid she might have said it out loud.

But there wasn’t time to worry about that, because her body was turning traitor. A shudder ran through her soul and she knew she wanted him in a strange, deep and very primitive way. The need had an urgency that took her breath away and seemed about to convulse her body, as though she’d been taken over by a libidinous spirit that would soon render her helpless to resist. Her lips parted and she found herself arching toward him, begging for his kiss. There was a moan starting deep in her throat. Was it a moan of surrender? Of triumph? Of overwhelming desire?

She would never know, because at that moment there was a new sound from the hallway.

“Mama? Mama?”

As though a switch had been thrown, her eyes snapped wide and she used those hands that had been kneading into the muscles of his chest to throw him off her. Springing to her feet, she called out, “Just a minute, baby,” and glared at where Michael was sprawled on the bed, looking as though he wasn’t sure what had just happened here.