Читать книгу Her Boss's Baby - Cathleen Galitz, Cathleen Galitz - Страница 11

Just watching Tara Summers at work was enough to make most people tired. Jonas likened it to studying the mighty ant in action. Seemingly there was no task too big for her to tackle. So when his assistant calmly announced that she had plans to catch the real criminal and clear his name, Jonas was tempted to call the local law-enforcement agencies and put them on alert.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, foolishly hoping the gesture alone would somehow be enough to stop her. “Listen, Tara, I don’t want you doing anything stupid on my behalf. I’d never forgive myself if anything were to happen to you. As flawed as the system may be, let’s put our trust in it and allow the police to do their job. The last thing I need or want is for you to go risking your pretty little neck for me.”

Tara felt a tingle on her shoulder where his hand rested. The touch seared her, burning through layers of clothing. Though the use of the word pretty was flattering, the statement made her feel like a silly schoolgirl.

“What do I have to do to get you to stop bossing me around like I’m some helpless child?” she asked in exasperation.

Jonas’s eyes darkened in response. He’d been having a heck of a time seeing her as an ingenue for quite some time. That Tara insisted he abandon his only shield against her was as unnerving as the way his body reacted whenever she was near.

“I never meant to imply that you’re childish,” he replied in a steady tone.

Far from it! he thought. If only you knew how hard it’s been for me to refrain from acting on the way I see you.

“It’s just that I worry about you, and I don’t like feeling that you think I’m incapable of taking care of my own problems.”

Since that put matters into a completely different light, one that cast Jonas as a man needing to see himself as strong and capable, Tara held her tongue. Being wise beyond her years, she saw no reason to antagonize him further. Besides, she’d do exactly what she wanted to do, anyway.

Within hours, boxes started arriving. In no time at all they had the makings of a temporary office. Soon the main computer was up and running, paperwork was sorted into piles according to priority, and the temp Tara had hired to run the San Francisco office reported that everything there was going relatively smoothly. Feeling underfoot, Jonas lamented that he was going to have to cancel the upcoming buying trip overseas to which he had been so looking forward.

While much of his business was conducted over the Internet, he still enjoyed periodic forays into dangerous territories. Exposure to infectious diseases and sometimes hostile gunfire were part of the allure. His adventurous lifestyle had served him well during the time he’d been forced to wait in jail for Tara’s arrival. As much as he despised his questionable companions, Jonas found them far less formidable than the chieftain of a tribe of headhunters with whom he’d once shared a meal. Of course, the chieftain had been far more honorable than the scumbags who had inhabited the cells next to his.

Tara knew full well that Jonas found the merchandising end of the business rather dull, and she was secretly relieved that he’d been forced to cool his heels for a while. It hadn’t escaped her notice that every time she came remotely close to revealing her true feelings to him, he packed up and went abroad. Unable to bring herself to believe it was merely coincidence, she was determined to use this opportunity to force the issue of whether he felt anything more for her than employer-employee respect.

That Jonas did indeed find her incredibly beguiling was not necessarily due to any untoward behavior on her part. He could no more find fault with her decorum than he could her clothes. What she was wearing at the moment was certainly professional. He couldn’t exactly blame her for his being so fascinated by the way her skirt hugged her hips and exposed a pair of long silky legs or for the way he covertly studied the swell of her breasts beneath the satiny fabric of her shirt.

It wasn’t as if she had deliberately changed the quality or brand of the perfume she wore. Still, her subtle fragrance played havoc with his senses. Every time she came near, it evoked haunting sensual images that could well have landed him in court for sexual harassment had he actually acted on them. Determined that hard work was all he needed to clear his mind and keep him focused, he refused to take a break for the rest of the day.

As evening settled over the sleepy little community like a lacy shawl, Jonas pushed himself away from the computer screen and grumbled that though he was starving, he had no desire to leave the hotel and endure the whispers of “polite society.” Happy to accommodate him, Tara reached around him to shut off the computer and call it a day herself. Jonas was enveloped by the flowery scent of her shampoo as her hair brushed his face. The almost imperceptible touch of her hair against his skin produced an incredibly potent flame in the center of his being.

Tara called room service and ordered a bottle of wine and dinner for two. Personally the romantic aspect of it delighted her. The candles, the wine, the fresh flowers all carted in by a young man dressed pristinely in white seemed divinely inspired to help set just the right mood for elegant seduction.

Unfortunately Jonas seemed impervious to the flickering charm of the moment. The food was delicious, and Tara gave little sighs of pleasure with each bite she took. When she asked him to pass her the salt, his hand inadvertently brushed hers, sending shivers all the length of her body.

“Here’s to the most wonderful assistant in the world,” Jonas said, raising his glass and clinking it gently against hers.

Taking a modest sip, Tara blushed. As potent as the wine, the compliment warmed her from the inside out.

“I’m glad you know how lucky you are to have me,” she replied, batting her eyes exaggeratedly. Since flirting had never been her forte, Tara decided to rely on humor to carry her through any awkward pauses in the conversation.

“I do indeed,” Jonas assured her.

Over the years he had come to rely on Tara’s strength, common sense and wonderful sense of humor in more than just business matters. She had become his confidante, gently encouraging him to attend the Fortune reunion, then rushing to bail him out of jail without the least hesitation.

With every sip of wine his lovely assistant took, he could see her visibly relax. Remembering the drinking that had so long ago landed her in the slammer with his precocious stepsister, he was sorely tempted to remind her to slow down. Still, she looked so pretty sitting there, all flushed and content, that he hated sounding like her father. She was old enough to have a drink if she wanted one. Thinking how that pink suit complemented her fair coloring, he found himself enjoying the company of such a stunning woman.

The sound of her laughter brushed his dark thoughts away. Deciding it the sexiest sound he’d ever heard, Jonas came to realize more fully just how difficult this forced cohabitation was going to be. It had been hard enough back at the office chasing off thoughts of Tara as anything more than his kid sister’s best friend. Here, it would take the fortitude of a saint to ignore that voluptuous body and those mystical dark eyes. How could fate conspire to package innocence and sensuality in such a seductive pink bundle of pure femininity?

Refilling her glass, Jonas told himself that she was safe with him. It wasn’t as if she was driving anywhere tonight, thus endangering herself or others. The worst that could happen was that he might have to tuck her into bed. His own drink poised midway in its path from the table to his lips, the thought caught him unawares. By the way his body reacted, he had to pause to wonder who was going to protect her from him.

Ashamed of the direction his thoughts had taken, Jonas sternly reminded himself of all he owed this woman. Certainly more than the kind of one-night sexual gratification that had led to his own birth. He had no intention of ever doing that to another human being. Especially not to such a genuinely sweet thing as Tara.

“I think I’ll turn in early,” he said, rising from his chair and trying to rouse a yawn. With his body so attuned to the beautiful woman in the room, Jonas seriously doubted he was going to fall asleep anytime soon. The look of disappointment on her face tempted him to sit right back down again. Prudence, however, kept his knees locked in an upright position.

“Good night,” Tara murmured. The regret in her voice implied she somehow felt responsible for hastening his departure.

Long after he had retired to his bedroom, Tara sat in the dying candlelight pondering the future. It was apparent that Jonas was bound and determined to be a gentleman. And while she respected his chivalry, she also found it downright infuriating. Unassuming by nature, she was clearly uncomfortable in the role of aggressor. Yet she knew that if she waited for him to make the first move, she would be destined to die an old maid like that preposterous-looking caricature in the deck of cards she remembered playing with as a child.

Contemplating the half-empty bottle of wine, she thought about accidentally stumbling into Jonas’s bedroom. She could always blame her misguided sense of direction on the alcohol. As luck would have it, such blatant sexual overtures were not Tara’s style. The truth was, she wasn’t confident enough about her own sexual prowess to risk throwing herself at him.

Although Jonas wasn’t seeing anyone seriously at the moment, she knew he didn’t lead a celibate lifestyle. Over time she had watched, with equal measures of envy and disgust, various women blatantly coming on to her boss. Beautiful self-assured women who knew what they wanted and weren’t afraid to go after it. Experienced women with no fear that they might prove unsatisfactory in bed.

It was agony for Tara to be so close to the man she loved and yet so far. For all intents and purposes they might as well have been separated by thousands of miles as by a single thin wall. Sighing, Tara pushed herself away from the table. On a whim, she snapped a daisy off the fresh spray on the cart and tucked it behind an ear.

“Tomorrow is another day,” she said, melodramatically mimicking one of her favorite fictional characters. Scarlett O’Hara was the kind of woman who would stop at nothing to get her heart’s desire. Certain there was a lesson for herself in the character’s words, Tara headed off to bed determined to put her troubles behind her for the night.

After a sound night’s sleep, she had a pot of coffee brewing and was ready for work by eight the next morning.

Unlike Tara, her boss was decidedly not a morning person. Yawning widely enough to frighten all flies within range, Jonas straggled into the “office” wearing a pair of button-fly jeans and a tight white T-shirt that defined his muscles all too well. His hair was sticking out in all directions. Tara couldn’t decide which impulse was stronger: the one compelling her to run her hands the length of those fabulous biceps or the one urging her to smooth that errant hair. In his disheveled sleepy state, he was enough to make any red-blooded woman’s mouth water. Something about those heavy-lidded eyes made her want to abandon work altogether and tuck herself back into bed with him.

“Coffee?” she asked, reining in her fugitive thoughts and slipping into her professional demeanor.

Jonas mumbled something that she could only assume was yes. Setting a fresh cup before him, she looked at him in concern. “Didn’t you sleep well?”

He could have killed her. Lifting red-rimmed eyes to meet hers, Jonas glared at her. “Not really,” he said, confirming the obvious.

How dare she be so chipper so early in the day? While he’d spent the night tossing and turning, fantasizing about what kind of nightclothes she wore, Tara had apparently been sound asleep, blissfully unaware of his torment. The least she could do was have the decency to be as susceptible as he was to daylight’s harsh glare. Indeed, no dark circles, mussed hair or irritability marred the lovely face Tara presented this morning. If anything she looked prettier than ever in a pair of tight jeans and form-fitting sweater. He doubted she was even aware of how every luscious curve of her body was so tauntingly displayed.

Impervious to Jonas’s dark mood, Tara offered him a doughnut to “sweeten” him up. He took three. Wondering what it would be like to awake every day to such a bright happy countenance, he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. That off-key humming of hers was certainly a nice way to start the day.

A long hot shower and shave helped Jonas feel refreshed. Tara jumped when he stepped back into their office after preparing himself for the day. Hurriedly she got off the phone and asked him if he was feeling any better.

Made suspicious by her guilty blush, Jonas ignored the inquiry. “Who was that?” he wanted to know.

Tara wished she was a better liar. “I was trying to get hold of your uncle,” she admitted reluctantly.

The look darkening his features left little doubt that he did not appreciate her meddling.

“I know you’ve been worried,” Tara rushed on, pretending not to notice the way his lips thinned in disapproval. “It sounds like he’s going to be all right, after all. Did you know he’s scheduled to be released from the hospital any day now?”

“No, I didn’t.” Jonas’s words were as clipped as the heels of marching soldiers. “And aside from how it affects me personally, I don’t much care, either.”

Even when inwardly panicked, Tara had the amazing ability to look outwardly serene. She decided to remain quiet and let him make the next move. She focused her attention on the correspondence in front of her.

“All right,” Jonas growled, hating himself for succumbing to curiosity. “What did he have to say?”

Tara fidgeted with opening a letter to avoid meeting his thunderous expression. “Just that his lawyer had advised him not to speak to you. He sounded pretty weak,” Tara added hastily, hoping to douse the fire blazing in Jonas’s eyes. “Like he might have been overmedicated.”

The last thing she wanted to do was put more strain on an already frayed family bond. Ever the optimist, she was still holding out hope that Jonas could still somehow establish a relationship with his Texas kinsmen. Clearly now, however, was not the time to broach that particularly prickly subject.

“I don’t want you to ever speak to that man again. Or any of the Fortunes, for that matter,” Jonas said in a tone that left little doubt he expected to be obeyed.

“That could be kind of hard,” she responded with a forced determined smile, “considering that it would be hard to swing a cat in this town without hitting one of your relations.”

“Then don’t go swinging any cats.”

Petulance welled up in Tara like a geyser. “How dare you speak to me like I’m fourteen!” she erupted. “I’m a grown woman, and I’ll talk to whomever I please, thank you very much. And if you don’t stop treating me like a little girl without the good sense God gave a goose, I’m going to swing more than just a cat at you!”

Startled by her fervor, Jonas softened his tone. “All I’m saying is that I would really prefer that you don’t involve yourself with any of my so-called relatives.” And although he didn’t think he owed her any explanation, he offered one, anyway. “I don’t trust them and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Seeing that the concern clouding those amazing eyes was for her alone, Tara’s indignation melted like ice cream on a hot summer day. Touched, she willingly sought a compromise.

“I appreciate that you don’t want me to get hurt, Jonas,” she told him, her own tone softer now, too. “But you need to realize that you are the one in danger here, not me. If somebody is out to frame you for murder, who knows how far this could go? I can’t stand the thought of someone trying to destroy you.” Tara’s voice cracked with emotion. “I promise I’ll be careful if you’ll do the same.”

Unable to argue with what appeared to be perfectly sound logic, not to mention moving loyalty, Jonas decided to take Tara at her word. Unable to do anything about the situation but wait, he turned his attention to the business of the day. It came as no surprise that his competent assistant had things completely under control. With the exception of some documents that he needed to sign, Jonas felt more or less in the way. Furthermore, the news about his uncle had been unsettling. As much as Jonas hated to admit it, he had been anxious to be accepted by his new family. It hurt him deeply that they all suspected him of foul play. Though relieved to hear that Ryan was to be released soon, Jonas nonetheless felt insulted that his uncle refused to so much as speak to him.

How he longed to hop the next plane and put all this turmoil behind him! Jonas often found himself hankering for the kind of overseas travel that most people would find traumatic. He recognized the restlessness he was feeling for what it was—the need to run; to put distance between himself and trouble spelled with a capital Tara.

Unfortunately the law prevented him from following his usual pattern of escape.

The day crawled by. Jonas had difficulty focusing on anything other than the slender curve of his assistant’s neck as she bent over her work, the texture of her hair brushing enchantingly against his hand as he reached to take the phone from her, a sweet musky scent that set his pulse throbbing and a guileless pair of eyes framed by lashes so long Jonas thought they should at least warrant a city ordinance. By quitting time, he thought he would go mad if he didn’t get out of his incredible shrinking hotel suite.

“I need some air,” he announced suddenly.

Startled, Tara pulled her gaze away from the computer screen to study his face. Glancing at her watch, she saved her work with a single keystroke and smiled affably.

“What do you say we go out for dinner?”

Jonas couldn’t bring himself to utter the loud “No!” reverberating in his brain. After all, there was no rational reason to decline the invitation, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt Tara’s feelings. He just wanted to put some space between them so that he could clear the cobwebs from his head. Hoping that simply getting out of the hotel would be enough to give him some breathing room, Jonas acquiesced to her suggestion. Perhaps she would want to window-shop after dinner and he could make up some excuse to go back to the room and check for messages. If he didn’t get away from her soon, he knew he was going to have trouble keeping his unruly desire at bay.

Although Tara was aware of how awkward it was for Jonas to be seen in public, given the charges against him, she was still excited about going out for dinner with him. Aside from the fact that she was the only female in town that he knew, apart from relatives, it was almost like a real date. She ran a brush through her hair and put on a dab of lipstick for the occasion. The natural color on her cheeks made the need for any other makeup unnecessary.

They picked out a small out-of-the-way restaurant in hopes that no one would recognize Jonas. He directed the hostess to seat them in a dimly lit booth against the back wall and did his best to ignore the fact that people craned their necks to stare as they made their way to their seats. Jonas tried dismissing their curiosity, knowing that Tara’s classic features, natural elegance and curvaceous figure would have made her the target of envious gawking even had she not been seen with Red Rock’s most infamous jail-bird.

For her part, Tara attributed Jonas’s restlessness throughout their meal to the fact that he had virtually been penned up for too long. All day he had reminded her of a panther pacing behind the bars of a cage avariciously eyeing freedom. Growling at anyone who came too near.

What Tara did not understand was that it was her own nearness causing his decided unease.

Jonas took pleasure from the fact that Tara so completely enjoyed her meal. Having dated women who picked daintily at high-priced plates and lied about being full after three mouthfuls, it was refreshing to be with someone with a healthy appetite. Figuring her for the kind of woman who would likely enjoy a good ball game while relishing a hot dog with the works and a plastic cup of frothy beer on the side, Jonas wished he could hop the next plane and whisk her off to Candlestick Park.

It had been a long time since such simple joys had held any appeal for Jonas. As a child he’d had no father to take him to ball games or compete in three-legged races or toss a football around in the backyard. Secretly he had cursed the man who was his real father and made up lame excuses for the stepfather who never once showed up at any of his activities. As a grown man, Jonas tried supplanting hurtful memories by journeying to faraway places and deliberately putting himself in dangerous situations. It had never occurred to him that a simpler answer lay closer at home in a pair of soft brown eyes that had the power to magically make the world seem new all over again.

When Tara finished off the last bite of her chocolate cheesecake with a satisfied sigh, she suggested they catch the early movie showing in town. Thinking it would be a good way to get his mind off work, off his troubles and off a certain pretty blonde, Jonas agreed. He neglected, however, to take into account how his body might react to sitting next to an enchantress in the dark, her fragrance wrapping itself around his senses, effectively blocking out the drama playing on the screen. Tara’s laughter was so infectious that he found himself smiling in all the appropriate places even though he wasn’t paying a bit of attention to the actors’ lines.

Once when something in the film frightened her, Tara grabbed his arm and squeezed hard. He flexed his muscles beneath her hand. No matter how undeserved it might be, her reaction made him feel strong and protective as an overpowering surge of hormones raged through his body. All the while he was wondering why his age wasn’t tempering such purely physical reactions with prudence, he enjoyed feeling like her hero.

Clearly this was the epitome of foolishness. And every bit as dangerous for Tara’s tender heart as for his jaded one. After all, what could the future hold for a man accused of attempted murder?

Emerging from the darkened theater to a surprisingly soft twilight, Jonas had every intention of separating himself from her for the remainder of the evening on any pretense at all. Why he accepted her suggestion that he accompany her on a walk through the park before turning in for the day was as much a mystery to him as who had tried to poison Uncle Ryan Fortune. August days tend to be punishing in Texas, and this one had been no exception. The cooler temperature of the falling night was a welcome relief as they strolled up to a Civil War cannon that seemed horribly out-of-place next to modern-day playground equipment.

The park was deserted save for one lone family. The parents were loading up the remnants of their picnic, folding tablecloths and blankets and gathering their protesting brood. The father chased his youngest, a red-haired little girl who squealed in delight at what she perceived as a game of tag. Tara and Jonas kept their gazes away from one another, as if being alone could somehow make disturbing longings for such a simple loving lifestyle disappear like the light fading from the sky.

Uncomfortable with the direction her thoughts were taking, Tara challenged Jonas to race her to the swings. When he staunchly refused, she called him an old fuddy-duddy and set off on her own. She looked so beautiful with her thick mane of golden hair streaming out behind her that Jonas couldn’t help but be stirred by the sight. He took off after her and, despite her sizable head start, beat her to the swings.