Читать книгу How To Sleep With The Boss - Джанис Мейнард, Janice Maynard - Страница 8

Two

Libby was mortified to be caught discussing her new boss. Charlise only laughed.

Patrick went to the pregnant woman and kissed her cheek, placing his hand lightly on her belly. “Tell that husband of yours to call me the minute you go to the hospital. And let me know if either of you needs anything...anything at all.”

Charlise got all misty-eyed again. “Thanks, boss.”

“It won’t be the same without you,” he said.

“Stop that or you’ll make me cry again. Libby knows everything I know. She’s exactly who you need... I swear.”

Patrick smiled. “I believe you.” He turned to Libby. “How about dinner tonight? I’ve tried to stay out of the way while Charlise showed you the ropes, but I think it would be good for the two of us to get to know each other better. What do you say?”

Libby felt herself flush from her toes to the top of her head. Not that this was a date. It wasn’t. Not even close. But Patrick Kavanagh was an imposing specimen. Despite his comfortably elegant appearance at the hotel, she had the distinct sense that beneath the dark suits and crisp ties lurked someone who was very much a man’s man.

The kind of guy who made a woman’s toes curl with just one look from his intense blue-gray eyes. He was tall and lean and had a headful of unruly black hair. The glossy, dark strands needed a comb. Or maybe the attention of a lover’s fingers.

Her heart thumped hard, even as her stomach tumbled in a free fall. “That would be nice,” she said. Great. Now she sounded like a child going to a tea party at her grandma’s house.

Charlise picked up her purse and a small box. Patrick hefted the larger carton and followed her out of the room, leaving Libby to trail behind. Outside, the air was crisp and cold. She shivered and pulled her sweater more tightly across her chest.

Patrick stowed Charlise’s things and hugged her. The affection between the two was palpable. Libby wondered what Charlise’s husband was like. Obviously, he must be quite a guy if he let his wife work day after day with the darkly handsome Patrick Kavanagh.

Charlise eased behind the wheel, closed the car door and motioned for Libby to come closer. Patrick’s phone had rung, and he was deep in conversation with whoever was on the other end.

Libby rested a hand in the open window and leaned down. “You’re going to freeze,” she said.

The pregnant woman lowered her voice. “Don’t let him ride roughshod over you. You’re almost too nice sometimes. Stand up to him if the occasion warrants it.”

“Why would I do that? He’s the boss.”

Charlise grinned and started the engine. “Because he’s too damned arrogant for his own good. All the Kavanagh men are. They’re outrageously sexy, too, but we women have to draw a line in the sand. Trust me, Libby. Alpha males are like dangerous animals. They can smell fear. You need to project confidence even when you don’t feel it.”

“Now you’re scaring me,” Libby said, only half joking.

“I’ve known Patrick a long time. He admires grit and determination. You’ll win his respect. I have no doubt. And don’t worry about the survival training. What’s the worst that could happen?”

* * *

Libby watched the car drive away, burdened with an inescapable feeling that her only friend in the world was leaving her behind in the scary forest. When she turned around, the lights from the main lodge of Silver Reflections cast a warm glow against the gathering darkness.

Since Patrick was still tied up on the phone, she went back to Charlise’s office—now Libby’s—and printed out the staff directory. She planned to study it this weekend. Facts and figures about everyone from the housekeeping staff to the guy who kept the internet up and running. Even at an executive retreat center famed for creating an atmosphere of solitude and introspection, no one at the level of these guests was going to be happy without a connection to the outside world.

Patrick found her twenty minutes later. “You ready to go? I guess it makes sense to take two cars.”

Silver Reflections was tucked away in the mountains ten miles outside of town. In the complete opposite direction stood the magnificent Silver Beeches Lodge. Perched on a mountaintop overlooking Silver Glen, it was owned and operated by Maeve Kavanagh and her eldest son, Liam. Libby hesitated before answering, having second thoughts. “I’m sure you must have better things to do with your weekend. I’m not really dressed for dinner out.”

Patrick’s eyes darkened with a hint of displeasure. “If it will make you feel better, I’ll include these hours in your paycheck. And dinner doesn’t have to be fancy. We can go to the Silver Dollar.”

Patrick’s brother, Dylan, owned a popular watering hole in town. The saloon was definitely low-key. Certainly Libby’s clothing would not make her stand out there. “All right,” she said, realizing for the first time that Patrick’s invitation was more like an order. “I’ll meet you there.”

During the twenty-minute drive, she had time to calm her nerves. She already had the job. Patrick wasn’t going to fire her yet. All she had to do was stick it out until they did some of the outdoor stuff, and she could prove to him that she was adaptable and confident in the face of challenges.

That pep talk carried her all the way into the parking lot of the Silver Dollar. The requisite pickup trucks were definitely in evidence, but they were interspersed with Lexus and Mercedes and the occasional fancy sports car.

Libby had visited this corner of North Carolina a time or two over the years with her mother. Silver Glen was a high-end tourist town with a nod to alpine flavor and an unspoken guarantee that the paparazzi were not allowed. It wasn’t unusual to see movie stars and famous musicians wandering the streets in jeans and baseball caps.

Most of them eventually showed up at the Silver Dollar, where the beer was cold, the Angus burgers prime and the crowd comfortably raucous. Libby hovered on the porch, waiting for Patrick to arrive. The noise and color and atmosphere were worlds away from her native habitat in Manhattan, but she loved it here.

At Maeve’s urging, Libby had given up the New York apartment she could scarcely afford and had come to North Carolina for a new start. Truth be told, her native habitat was feeling more and more distant every day.

Patrick strolled into view, jingling his car keys. “Let’s grab a table,” he said. “I called Dylan and told him we were on our way.”

In no time, they were seated. Libby ordered a Coke...Patrick, an imported ale. Dylan stopped by to say hello. The smiling, very handsome bar owner was the second oldest in the seven-boy Kavanagh lineup. Patrick was the second youngest.

Patrick waved a hand at Libby. “Do you remember Libby Parkhurst? She’s going to fill in for part of Charlise’s maternity leave.”

Dylan shook Libby’s hand. “I do remember you.” He sobered. “I was sorry to hear about your mother. We have an apartment upstairs here at the Silver Dollar. I’d be happy to give it to you rent-free until you’ve had a chance to get back on your feet.”

Libby narrowed her gaze. “Did your mother guilt you into making me an offer?”

Dylan’s neck turned red. “Why would you say that? Can’t a man do something nice without getting an inquisition?”

Libby stared from one brother to the other. Apparently, down-on-her-luck Libby had become the family project. “If you’re positive it won’t be an imposition,” she said slowly. “I’m taking up a very nice guest room at Maeve’s fancy hotel, so I’m sure she’d rather have me here.”

Dylan shook his head. “Maeve is delighted to have you anywhere. Trust me. But she thought you’d like some privacy.”

* * *

Patrick studied Libby’s face as she pondered the implications of living above the bar. It was hardly what she was used to...but then again, he had no idea what her life had been like after the tax guys had swooped in and claimed their due.

Dylan wandered away to deal with a bar-related problem, and on impulse, Patrick asked the question on his mind. “Will you tell me about this past year? Where you’ve been? How things unfolded? Sometimes it helps to talk to a neutral third party.”

Libby sipped her Coke, her gaze on the crowd. Friday nights were always popular at the Silver Dollar. He studied her profile. She had a stubborn chin, but everything else about her was soft and feminine. He would bet money that after one night in the woods, Libby was going to admit she was in over her head.

When she looked at him, those beautiful eyes gave him a jolt—awareness laced with the tiniest bit of sexual interest. He shut down that idea quickly. Maeve would have his head on a platter if he messed with her protégé. And besides, Libby wasn’t his type. Not at all.

Libby’s lips curved in a rueful half smile. “It was frightening and traumatic and definitely educational. Fortunately, my mother had a few stocks and bonds that were in her name only. We managed to find an apartment we could afford, but it was pretty dismal. I wanted to go out and look for work, but she insisted she needed me close. I think losing the buffer of wealth and privilege made her feel painfully vulnerable.”

“What about your father?”

“We had some minimal contact with him. But Mama and I both felt betrayed, so we didn’t go out of our way to visit. I suppose that makes me sound hard and selfish.”

Patrick shook his head. “Not at all. A man’s duty is to care for his family. Your father deceived you, broke your trust and failed to provide for you. It’s understandable that you have issues.”

She stared at him. “You speak from experience, don’t you? My mother told me about what happened years ago.”

Patrick hadn’t expected her to be so quick on the uptake. Now he was rather sorry he’d raised the subject. His own father, Reggie Kavanagh, had been determined to find the lost silver mine that had made the first Kavanaghs in North Carolina extremely wealthy. Reggie had spent months, years...looking, always looking.

His obsession cost him his family.

“I was just a little kid,” Patrick said. “My brother Liam has the worst memories. But yeah...I understand. My mother had every right to be bitter and angry, but somehow she pulled herself together and kept tabs on seven boys.”

Libby paled, her eyes haunted. “I wish I could say the same. But not all of us are as strong as Maeve.”

He cursed inwardly. He hadn’t meant to sound critical of Libby’s mother. “My mother wasn’t left destitute.”

“True. But she’s made of tough stock. Mama was never really a strong person, even in the best of times.”

“I’m sorry, Libby.”

Her lips twisted, her eyes bleak. “We can’t choose our families.”

In an instant he saw that this job idea was laden with emotional peril for Libby Parkhurst. When it became glaringly obvious that she couldn’t handle the physically demanding nature of Charlise’s role as his assistant, Libby would be crushed. Surely it would be better to find that out sooner than later. Then she could move on and look for employment more suited to her skill set. Libby was smart and organized and intuitive.

There was a place for her out there somewhere. Just not at Silver Reflections.

He drummed his fingers on the table. “I looked at the weather forecast. We’re due to have a warm spell in a couple of days.”

“I saw that, too. Maeve says you almost always get an early taste of spring here in the mountains, even if it doesn’t last long.”

“She’s right. And in light of that, why don’t you and I go ahead and take an overnight trip, so I can show you what’s involved.”

Libby went from wistful to deer in the headlights. “You mean now?”

“Yes. We could head out Monday morning and be back Tuesday afternoon.” Part of him felt guilty for pushing her, but they had to get past this hurdle so she could see the truth.

He saw her throat move as she swallowed. “I don’t have any outdoor gear.”

“Mom can cover you there. And my sisters-in-law can loan you some stuff, too. No sense in buying anything now.”

“Because you think I’ll fail.”

She stared him down, but he wasn’t going to sugarcoat it. “I think there is a good chance you’ll discover that working for me isn’t what you really want.”

“You’ve made up your mind already, haven’t you?” He was surprised to see that she had a temper.

“No.” Was he being entirely honest? “I promised you a trial run. I’ve merely moved up the timetable, thanks to the weather.”

Libby’s gaze skewered him. “Do I need a list from you, or will your mother know everything I need?”

“I’ll email you the list, but Mom has a pretty good idea.”

Libby stood up abruptly. “I don’t think I’m that hungry, after all. Thank you for the Coke, Mr. Kavanagh. If you’ll excuse me, it sounds like I have a lot to do this weekend.”

And with that, she turned her back on him and walked out of the room.

Dylan commandeered the chair Libby had vacated, his broad smirk designed to be irritating. “I haven’t seen you crash and burn in a long time, baby brother. What did you say to make her so mad?”

“It wasn’t a date,” Patrick said, his voice curt. “Mind your own damned business.”

“She could do better than you, no doubt. Great body, I’m guessing, even though her clothes are a tad on the eccentric side. Excellent bone structure. Upper-crust accent. And those eyes... Hell, if I weren’t a married man, I’d try my luck.”

Patrick reined in his temper, well aware that Dylan was yanking his chain. “That’s not funny.”

“Seriously. What did you say to run her off?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I’ve got all night.”

Patrick stared at him. “If you must know, Mom shoved her down my throat as a replacement for Charlise. Libby can handle the retreat center details, but there is no way in hell she’s going to be able to do all the outdoor, backcountry stuff. When I hired her, she asked me to give her a chance to prove herself. I merely pointed out that the weather’s going to be warm the first of the week, so we might as well go for it.”

“And that made her mad?”

“Well, she might possibly have assumed that I expect her to fail.”

“Smart lady.”

“How am I the bad guy here? I run a multilayered business. I can’t afford to babysit Mom’s misfits.”

Dylan’s expression went from amused to horrified in the space of an instant.

Libby’s soft, well-modulated voice broke the deadly silence. “I left my sweater. Sorry to interrupt.”

And then she was gone. Again.

Patrick swallowed hard. “Did she hear what I said?”

Dylan winced. “Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t have time to warn you. I didn’t see her coming.”

“Well, that’s just peachy.”

The waitress appeared, notepad in hand, to take Patrick’s order. “What’ll you have?” she asked.

Dylan shook his head in regret. “Bring us a couple of burgers, all the way. My baby brother needs some cheering up. It’s gonna be a long night.”