Wanted by the Boss: Sleeping with the Boss / Cowboy Boss / Billionaire Boss

‘‘Eileen?’’

‘‘Yessir, boss?’’ She turned her head to watch him come through the doorway from his office.

He frowned and looked at her as she stood up, holding onto her purse and car keys as if they were life rings tossed into a churning sea. ‘‘You leaving already?’’

‘‘It’s not ‘already,’’’ she said, scooping her black cardigan off the back of her chair. ‘‘It’s after five and I’m going home.’’ She was actually running home, but didn’t feel the urge to tell him that. Back to her empty little cottage where she wouldn’t have to look into Rick’s brown eyes. Where she wouldn’t have to remind herself that she wasn’t interested in getting involved with anyone again, much less the bane of her childhood.

Slipping into her sweater, she flipped her hair out from under it, then pointed at a manila folder on her desk. ‘‘The last letters you wanted are right there. Sign them and they’ll go out in tomorrow morning’s mail.’’

‘‘Fine, but—’’

‘‘See you later.’’

‘‘Eileen.’’

His voice stopped her just three feet from the door. She gave that magic portal one longing glance, then took a deep breath and turned to face him. His hair was mussed, his tie loose and his collar opened. He looked far too good. If he suggested ordering dinner in and working late again, she’d have to say yes. She’d spend the whole meal drooling over him and then go home to be frustrated alone. But if he didn’t ask her to stay late and have dinner, she’d be disappointed because then she wouldn’t get a chance to drool over him. Oh yeah. No psychological problems here. ‘‘What?’’ She snapped out the word a little harsher than she’d planned.

‘‘You free this weekend?’’

Whoa. She reeled a little. Was he asking her what she thought he might be asking her? Not just fast-food dinner and work, but maybe a date? Maybe a movie or something else that was totally inappropriate considering they were working together? Considering their grandmothers had arranged all of this? Considering that she wasn’t in the mood for a man in her life? Ye gods. Her stomach skittered nervously. ‘‘Why?’’

‘‘I’ve got some meetings.’’

Okay, no date. Work.

‘‘Now that’s a shame,’’ she said, and sidled closer to the door.

‘‘I’ll need a secretary.’’

No way. She’d already lost two perfectly good weeks of vacation. She wasn’t about to give up her weekends, too. ‘‘Rick…’’

‘‘One meeting’s scheduled for late tomorrow morning, then all day Saturday. Maybe one Sunday morning.’’

‘‘But I don’t—’’

‘‘You’ll be paid overtime.’’

Her fingers curled around her purse strap. ‘‘That’s not the point.’’

‘‘What is?’’ he asked, folding his arms across a chest that she’d spent far too much time imagining bare. ‘‘Too scared to go away with me?’’

She laughed shortly, harshly and hoped it sounded convincing. ‘‘Yeah. That must be it—go away? Go away where?’’

‘‘Temecula.’’

‘‘In Riverside county?’’

‘‘Is there another one?’’

‘‘No, but—’’

Rick walked across the room, stared out the window for a long minute, then turned to look at her again. ‘‘Edward Harrington was my first client when I opened my business.’’ Rick shrugged. ‘‘He took a chance on me. Twice a year, I go out to Riverside to look over his portfolio and discuss changes and investments.’’

‘‘You go to him?’’

Rick smiled. ‘‘Most independents go to their customers.’’

‘‘Still. One customer’s going to take all weekend?’’

‘‘No, but Edward referred me to some of his golf buddies and I see all of them when I go out there. I’m seeing Edward tomorrow and then the others on Saturday.’’

‘‘So you work all week and then even more on the weekend.’’

‘‘Uh-huh.’’ He studied her for a long, thoughtful minute, unfolded his arms, then waved both hands at her. ‘‘You know what? Never mind. You’re right.’’

Wary now, Eileen watched him. It wasn’t like him to change tactics so suddenly. ‘‘I’m right about what?’’

‘‘I can’t ask you to go.’’

‘‘You already did,’’ she pointed out.

‘‘I take it back.’’

‘‘What?’’ she said. Turning around, he walked back into his office. She was right behind him. Rick smiled at her hurried footsteps as she raced to catch up. ‘‘You take it back?’’ she asked. ‘‘What are you, in third grade?’’

‘‘Nope.’’ He walked around behind his desk and took a seat. Keeping his gaze averted from hers, Rick shuffled through the piles of financial reports on his desk. The minute he’d asked her to go along, he’d known she’d refuse. And maybe that was how he should leave it. It’d be a hell of a lot safer. But damn it, he wanted her to go with him. Wanted her away from the office and on neutral territory. Wanted her—hell.

He just wanted her. ‘‘I’m just being logical,’’ he said. ‘‘I can handle the work without you. And you’d hate it anyway and I don’t blame you. You’d be bored.’’

‘‘Bored?’’

‘‘Sure.’’ He glanced at her. Her eyes were flashing. It was working. Damn, she hadn’t changed a bit. For one brief second, he wished he’d been wrong and that she had simply said, Okay fine. See you. Then that feeling was gone and he was prodding her again. ‘‘Besides, like I said, I can handle this alone. I’ll take a laptop with me. Type up my own notes.’’

She snorted.

He glanced at her. ‘‘I don’t need a secretary after all,’’ he went on, warming to his theme now that he was on a roll. Eileen was reacting just as he’d known she would. Just as she always had. Tell her she couldn’t do something and there was nothing she wanted to do more. Like the time when she was ten and her gran told her that she couldn’t hang on to a car bumper while on her skateboard. Naturally, she’d done it anyway, the car made a sharp right turn and Eileen had broken her wrist when she crashed into Mrs. Murphy’s trash cans.

Maybe it was a mistake to challenge her hard enough so that she would come along for the weekend, but damned if he could resist the idea. He hadn’t felt this kind of attraction for a woman before. And it was bloody hard to deny it.

Her green eyes were stormy and he could actually see thoughts and emotions pinwheeling through her mind. God, she was so easy to read. And he enjoyed it after years of looking at a woman and wondering just what the hell she was thinking behind her cool, polite mask of interest.

‘‘You don’t need a secretary?’’ she said. ‘‘You, who types with two fingers?’’

One eyebrow lifted. ‘‘Speed won’t be required. Just accuracy.’’

She frowned at him, turning that delicious-looking mouth into a pout that made him want to bite her. Oh yeah, it’d be much better—safer—if she told him no. Damn, he hoped she didn’t. ‘‘I can handle note taking. I’ll bring a tape recorder or something. You can type everything up on Monday.’’

‘‘I could go with you.’’

‘‘Well, of course you could,’’ Rick said, watching her as she leaned both hands on the front of his desk. The high collar of her business shirt dipped just a bit and he caught a tantalizingly small peek at her chest. But just that tiny glimpse was enough to make him hard—and damn grateful to be sitting behind his desk. Clearing his throat, he continued, ‘‘I’m just saying, there’s no reason to. I wouldn’t want to put you out.’’

She pushed up from the desk, planted both hands at her hips and countered, ‘‘I’m working for you. It’s part of the job.’’

‘‘I can’t ask you to go away with me for the weekend.’’ He kept arguing, knowing it was in her nature to dig in her heels. She was absolutely the most contrary woman he’d ever met. She fascinated him. ‘‘Wouldn’t be fair.’’

‘‘Fair?’’ she repeated. ‘‘Now we’re talking about fair?’’

‘‘Hey.’’ Rick leaned back in his chair, gripped the arms and said, ‘‘I’m only trying to be reasonable.’’

‘‘Uh-huh. Where’s the meeting?’’ she asked, tapping the toe of one shoe against the carpet with a staccato beat.

He hid a smile at the temper already rising inside her. He should feel guilty about manipulating her into this, but he didn’t. ‘‘Eileen, it’s not necessary for you to go.’’

‘‘I’m going.’’ She glared at him. ‘‘I’m your secretary and it’s my job.’’

‘‘I don’t think it’s a good idea.’’

‘‘Deal with it,’’ she said. ‘‘Honestly, you wanted me to work for you and then when I say I am, you say no.’’

‘‘Just trying to be fair.’’

‘‘Well, quit it.’’

‘‘Okay.’’ He held up both hands and surrendered. ‘‘Didn’t know it would mean this much to you.’’

‘‘Now you know.’’

‘‘I appreciate it.’’

‘‘No problem.’’ She inhaled sharply and blew it out again in a rush. ‘‘Where do you want me to make reservations?’’

‘‘The Hammond Inn will work. Their number’s in the Rolodex.’’

‘‘Fine,’’ she said, and turned to leave the room.

‘‘Get a two-bedroom suite. We can work in the living area.’’

Eileen stopped and looked back over her shoulder at him. His brown eyes looked rich and dark and impossibly deep. Her insides twisted suddenly and she heard herself say, ‘‘I’m not going to sleep with you, you know.’’

His eyes narrowed. ‘‘Don’t recall asking you to.’’

‘‘Okay then.’’ She blew out a breath and nodded sharply. ‘‘Just so we’re clear.’’

‘‘Crystal.’’

She left his office and closed the door behind her. Then she leaned back against it and stared blankly at the ceiling. ‘‘What happened?’’ she whispered aloud. ‘‘You just gave away your weekend. What were you thinking?’’ She’d practically begged him to let her go along. And worse yet, now she’d be sharing a suite with the very man she was trying to stay away from.

‘‘Yeah, you’re doing great, Eileen,’’ she told herself and headed for her desk. She had to make the reservation before leaving for the day. Sending the Rolodex into a wild spin, she muttered, ‘‘Just great.’’

The Hammond Inn was the perfect romantic getaway. An hour and a half away from Orange County by freeway, it was a world away in feeling. The town of Temecula had started life as a stagecoach stop…and was now an interesting collection of old and new.

Many of the original buildings were still standing in old town, but the new housing developments were springing up all over everywhere like a virus run amok. Still, there were ranches and elegant old homes studding the landscape and the Hammond Inn was a perfect example.

A gracious Victorian, it had been perfectly restored to its former glory. Its wraparound porch was studded with hand-carved pillars painted a pristine white. The house itself was bright, sunshine-yellow with white trim and dark green shutters. The wide porch held clusters of white wicker furniture, inviting cozy conversations. Hanging plants hung from the overhanging roof, dotting the porch with thick green foliage. Late-blooming chrysanthemums burst into rainbows of color along the skirt of the house and lined the long walkway from the curved driveway. Maples and oaks, now boasting their brilliant fall colors, crouched around the house like protective soldiers decked out in their dress uniforms.

A cold wind swept through the hills, rattled the leaves and bowed the flowers as Eileen and Rick walked up the path.

‘‘It’s gorgeous,’’ she said, turning around to get the whole picture. Trees dotted the rolling, winter-brown hills and though new housing developments were encroaching, they were still far enough away that the inn seemed secluded. Private.

Eileen shot Rick a sidelong glance and told herself to get a grip. They weren’t here for romance. The inn was simply a temporary headquarters. They were here to conduct meetings with a few of Rick’s clients. They all lived locally and it was much easier for Rick and her to spend the weekend at the inn rather than driving the freeway to Riverside County every day.

Although, she thought, turning back around to continue walking, if they had been here for romance, they couldn’t have picked a better spot.

‘‘I like it,’’ Rick said, oblivious, thank heaven, to her thoughts. ‘‘The owners aren’t the kind to organize ‘fun’ for their guests. They leave me alone to conduct business.’’

Eileen shot him a look and shook her head. ‘‘Get down, you funky party weasel.’’

He stopped and gave her that look she was becoming all too accustomed to. It was the sort of stare you gave someone speaking a foreign language. Conveying the thought that maybe, if you listened hard enough, you’d understand. ‘‘Party weasel?’’

‘‘Funky party weasel. That was sarcasm.’’

‘‘Thought it might be.’’

Eileen waved one hand up and down in front of him. ‘‘But honestly, Rick. Look at you. You drag that gray world you work in everywhere you go.’’

He touched one of his lapels. ‘‘This is a blue suit.’’

‘‘Whoa. Cuttin’ loose.’’

One dark eyebrow lifted. She was getting used to that, too.

‘‘I’m here on business,’’ he reminded her.

‘‘You never heard of casual Friday?’’

‘‘It’s my company, we don’t have casual Friday.’’

‘‘The fact that it’s your company is the point. You could have casual Friday every day if you wanted to.’’

‘‘I don’t.’’

‘‘Hence, the gray world,’’ she said, walking again. ‘‘Life—conformity style.’’

Rick caught up with her in a couple of long strides. He was really tall—he towered over her. She liked the difference in their heights. She liked that he looked serious, but his eyes sparkled. Wow. Was that a glint of humor she saw there?

‘‘You know, some people actually dress for success.’’

She shrugged. ‘‘I figure, success means you can dress however you want to.’’

‘‘Ah, so I should be wearing jeans and a torn T-shirt.’’

‘‘Nobody said anything about torn.’’

She took the five, freshly swept steps to the porch and stopped at the top. Turning around to face him, she had to look down, since he’d stopped at the bottom. ‘‘I don’t remember you being such a stuffed shirt when you were a kid.’’

‘‘I,’’ he pointed out as he climbed the steps to stand eye level with her, ‘‘grew up.’’

She clutched her heart and grinned at him. ‘‘Cut to the bone.’’

‘‘You’re impossible, aren’t you?’’

‘‘That’s been said before.’’

‘‘Not hard to believe.’’

For several moments they stood there looking at each other. Rick broke away while Eileen was still in a sexual trance. He bounded up the rest of the steps and crossed the wide porch.

He reached out, opened the door and held it for her to pass through in front of him. His gaze dropped over her before lifting to meet hers again. ‘‘Besides, I don’t see you in jeans.’’

She smiled at him. ‘‘You will later.’’

‘‘Can’t wait.’’

Eileen stared up into his eyes and told herself to ignore the flash of heat that sizzled in those brown depths briefly before disappearing. She didn’t need this complication.

Four

Their suite was bigger than the one he usually took when he stayed here. Of course, Rick thought, usually he didn’t bring his secretary with him. Margo wouldn’t have come along, preferring to be at home on the weekends with her husband. As for Eileen, he probably should never have pretended—to both of them—that he’d needed her on this trip.

Just the drive on the freeway had been torturous. His hormones were doing the kind of back flips they hadn’t done since he’d hit puberty and had his first fantasy about…what the hell was her name? He shook his head. Didn’t matter. And it would probably be a good idea to keep the word fantasy out of his mind, too.

God knows, he didn’t need any encouragement.

He watched Eileen walk around the big living room, inspecting the whole place, from the books lining the bookshelves, to the hearth, already set and ready for a romantic fire. An overstuffed sofa in a pale flowered fabric crouched in front of the fireplace and two matching wing chairs sat on either side of it. Gleaming wood tables held vases of fresh flowers and dozens of scented candles dotted nearly every surface of the room.

‘‘It’s gorgeous.’’

He nodded. She certainly was. That black skirt of hers had been driving him nuts since she’d arrived at the office. She’d left her car in the parking lot at the office so they could drive down together. And during that long hour and a half, his gaze had slipped to her bare legs often. Her dark red shirt was plain, businesslike, and yet still managed to give his heart a kick start. Her hair, though, tempted him sorely. The long, loose waves draping around her shoulders made him want to spear his fingers through it. He’d had to keep a tight grip on the steering wheel, just to defeat the urge to reach out and see if her hair felt as soft as it looked.

‘‘Shall I set up on that table?’’

‘‘Hmm?’’ He gave himself a mental shake and stared at her. ‘‘What?’’

‘‘The first meeting.’’ She checked her silver wristwatch, then looked at him. ‘‘Your Mr. Harrington should be here in about twenty minutes.’’

‘‘Yeah.’’ Edward Harrington. Client. Business. Good. Concentrate. ‘‘Sure. Uh, set up his files there and I’ll order room service for when he gets here.’’

‘‘I can take care of it.’’

‘‘Fine.’’ Rick picked up his suitcase. ‘‘Which bedroom do you want?’’

‘‘Doesn’t matter,’’ she said with a shrug. ‘‘Surprise me.’’

Something jumped inside him, but he buried it fast. The kind of surprise he’d like to show her had nothing to do with the choice of a bedroom, but what to do inside it. ‘‘You take the one on the right. I’ll take this one.’’

He didn’t wait for a response before escaping into the bedroom and shutting the door. Dropping his suitcase, he walked across the room to the tall bureau and stared at his reflection in the silvered mirror above it. Shoving both hands through his hair, he met his own gaze grimly. ‘‘Keep your mind on business, Hawkins. Anything else is just a world of trouble.’’

Lightning shimmered in the distance and thunder rolled across the sky to growl like a caged tiger in the living room of the suite. Eileen hugged herself and stepped through the French doors and out onto the narrow balcony. The wind slapped at her, lifting her hair and twisting it around her head in a wild tangle of curls. She reached up and scooped it back, then tipped her face into the wind, loving the feel of it rushing past her. The scent of coming rain surrounded her and she felt as if her skin was electrified by the building storm.

In the blustery weather, no one else was outside and they had the only balcony on this side of the house. It was private, secluded.

Behind her, lamplight glowed in a pale, golden haze over the table where Rick sat, still working over the last of Ed Harrington’s file. She half turned to look at him and caught herself noticing how he ran his fingers through his hair. How his tie always crooked to the right when he was tired enough to loosen it. How his eyes shone in the lamplight. How his shoulders looked broader without the confines of his ever-present suit jacket.

Her blood pumped simply looking at him and she turned around, grateful that he was still immersed in his work. Just as well, she told herself, curling her fingers around the wrought-iron railing. They’d done fine all day, working side by side. She’d listened to him advising Ed about investments and his portfolios and even though she hadn’t understood a word of it, she’d had to admit to being impressed.

But now that the work was finished for the day, her brain was free to think about other things. And not one of them had anything to do with his brain.

Lightning flashed, illuminating the edges of the clouds overhead and tracing white-hot, jagged fingers across the sky. Thunder boomed, closer this time.

‘‘You’re gonna get wet in a minute.’’

Her pulse quickened as Rick stepped out onto the balcony beside her. ‘‘I love a storm,’’ she said over the rumble of thunder. ‘‘We don’t see many of them.’’

‘‘Good thing. Had to shut the computer off because of the lightning.’’

Eileen smiled. ‘‘Poor worker bee. Had to stop.’’

‘‘There’s always the battery.’’

She nodded. ‘‘So why’re you out here?’’

He shifted his gaze from her to the storm-tossed sky. ‘‘Like you said, we don’t see many of ’em.’’ He leaned forward and braced his hands on the railing. ‘‘You were good today.’’

‘‘Thanks.’’ Nice compliment but she hadn’t done all that much. Typing while they talked wasn’t that tough.

He sighed and looked out over the garden below and the hills beyond the inn. ‘‘Edward’s never talked that much. He’s been a client for two years and I’ve never heard him talk about his late wife.’’ Turning his head, he looked at her. ‘‘But you had him reminiscing inside a half hour.’’

‘‘He thinks you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread,’’ she said, remembering how the older man had heaped praise on Rick. ‘‘He said you took his modest savings account and fixed it so that he doesn’t have to worry—’’ she paused and smiled ‘‘—and that his grandkids will say great things about him because he left them so much money!’’

Rick grinned and shook his head. ‘‘His grandkids are nuts about him. He takes them fishing every weekend.’’

‘‘And he says that you’ve made lots of money for all of his friends,’’ Eileen said, as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘‘They buy him coffee every morning at the doughnut shop, just to thank him for referring you to them.’’

‘‘That’s nice to hear.’’ His gaze drifted over her lazily.

‘‘He says you’re the smartest man he’s ever met.’’

‘‘He exaggerates.’’

‘‘Maybe.’’ But Eileen had to admit, she’d seen a whole new side of Rick today. Though to be fair, she’d been seeing him anew all week. The terrible boy he’d been was gone, and in his place was a thoughtful, intelligent man who was as careful with his clients’ life savings as he would have been with his own grandmother’s. Plus, he looked incredibly good when his tie was loose.

Whoops. Where did that come from?

‘‘Ed’s a sweetheart,’’ she said quickly, jumping back to their conversation. ‘‘Sweet, sad and still lonely for the woman he loved most of his life.’’

‘‘He enjoyed talking about her today.’’

She nodded. ‘‘All I did was listen. He was nice.’’

‘‘Yeah,’’ Rick agreed, staring into her eyes with a steadiness that made her shaky. ‘‘You’re pretty nice yourself.’’

‘‘Wow.’’ She waved a hand at her face dramatically, as if to ease a nonexistent blush. ‘‘My little heart’s fluttering.’’

‘‘Uh-huh.’’ A wry grin touched one corner of his mouth. ‘‘Smells good out here,’’ he said, and slid his hand on the railing until it brushed against hers.

Her skin heated, warmth rushing through her bloodstream. ‘‘It’s the rain in the wind.’’

‘‘Nope,’’ he said, turning his head to look at her. ‘‘It’s more like—’’ he leaned in closer to her, inhaled ‘‘—flowers.’’

Her breath caught when she stared into his eyes.

‘‘It’s you, Eileen.’’ His gaze shifted, moving over her face, her throat, her breasts, and back up again.

‘‘Rick…’’ She hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected him to say anything about the tension simmering between them. And now that he had, she wasn’t sure what to do about it.

Her body, on the other hand, knew just what to do. Her heartbeat crashed in her ears, louder than the thunder booming out around them. Heat spiraled through her body, churning her insides, fogging her brain, liquefying her knees.

He drew back and turned his head to stare out into the night and the blustering storm. ‘‘Forget it,’’ he muttered. ‘‘Shouldn’t have said anything. Just let it go.’’

She should, Eileen told herself. If there was ever a moment to pay attention, to take an order, now was it. She should do just what he said and forget he’d ever opened this particular can of worms.

But she wouldn’t.

Couldn’t.

‘‘Don’t want to let it go,’’ she admitted, and her words were nearly swallowed by the next slam of thunder.

He snapped her a look and slowly straightened, reaching for her, drawing her up close. ‘‘We should, though.’’