Читать книгу Who's the Boss? & Her Perfect Stranger - Jill Shalvis - Страница 12

LUNCH SHOULD HAVE been simple. After they’d gotten rid of the fire department, the five of them—Vince, Tim, Andy, Joe and Caitlin—all piled into Vince’s van.

But Tim and Andy couldn’t decide on a place, and Vince kept making the wrong turn when Joe would call out directions. This would have normally greatly amused Caitlin, except for the fact she was pressed up close in the seat next to Joe.

Actually, plastered was more like it.

She found it a bit unsettling to feel the solid power of him against her, to realize how big he really was. And given the rigid way he held himself so as to minimize contact, he was obviously every bit as aware of her as she was of him.

“Wait! That way,” Tim yelled, and the van swerved as Vince made the turn.

Caitlin could feel the strain in Joseph’s body as he tried to remain completely upright and away from her. He didn’t quite succeed and at the next quick turn, which came without warning, he had to lift an arm to the back of her seat to brace himself rather than fall directly on her. Still, his jean-clad thigh pressed against her. Their sides were glued together. She was surrounded by him, by his warmth, by his strength.

He smelled like burned coffee.

“Sorry,” he said gruffly, and tried to pull back just as the van turned in the opposite direction, landing Caitlin practically in his lap.

“It’s okay.” She shot him a smile in spite of how her stomach tightened as the bare skin of his sinewy, tanned arm rubbed against her softer, much lighter one.

Their gazes met and Caitlin’s smile faded. So did Joseph’s. She pulled back, straightened herself. Joe withdrew his arm from around her, but he moved slowly, and she felt his fingers trace lightly over the back of her neck as he did.

She shivered.

Joe frowned at his hand as if he’d lost control of it and if he felt half of what she had begun to feel, then she completely understood.

* * *

THEY ENDED UP at one of her favorite restaurants.

Only problem was, everyone in southern California apparently wanted to eat there, too. Her nerves immediately reacted to the thought of waiting for a table in the packed bar, pressed tight against the man she tried to convince herself she disliked.

Caitlin would never be sure how it happened, but somehow she ended up at a cozy table for two—with Joe. The others had gotten a table on the other side of the restaurant, quickly and eagerly abandoning her in their haste for pasta.

Joe, looking slightly pained—and who could blame him? Caitlin wondered wildly—tried valiantly to smile at her.

She couldn’t dredge one up in return. “I’m sorry about the coffeemaker.”

“The fire chief said it wasn’t your fault,” he reminded her. “The cord was frayed, just a fire waiting to happen.”

“Yes,” she said miserably, blocking out the pleasantly noisy crowd around them. “But the zip drive…can’t blame that on a frayed cord.”

“It’s done, Caitlin. Forget it.”

She froze, stared at him over her menu. “What?”

“I said, it’s done. Forget it.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Not that. The other.”

“What other?”

“You used my name,” she breathed, some of her innate good humor returning. “Without that big old frown on your face.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You did so. Oops, never mind. The frown is back.”

They sat in silence. After a moment, Joe asked, “Was there something wrong with me being friendly?”

“No. Not at all. It was kinda…nice. Unexpected, but nice.”

“I don’t mean to be…unnice.”

“I know.” And she did. Somehow, she just brought out the worst in him.

He started to lift his water glass, but looked at his hand with a small wince instead.

“Oh, Joe, you’re hurt from the glass! I’d forgotten.” Grabbing his hand, she studied the base of his thumb. A cut marred the tough skin.

“It’s nothing.” He tried to pull his hand back, but she held firm as guilt and regret washed over her.

“I know I keep saying this,” she told him. “But I’m so sorry.” Without thinking, she lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed his palm, directly beneath the injury. “There.”

Joe blinked, stunned, as heat and something far more purled low in his gut. Those full red lips lingered on his skin, making him instantly hard. He had to remind himself that he was reacting naturally to the outer package that made up Caitlin. Not the inner one—the airhead, the destroyer of offices. He cleared his throat. “Is that supposed to make it better?”

That quirky, contagious grin of hers crossed her face. “I think so. Or at least, I hope so. I always…” Her smile faded. “I always wanted someone to do that to my hurts. Silly, huh?”

That quick, sharp pang in his chest was heartburn—not in any way empathy. He assured himself of this. Promised himself. “No, it’s not silly.”

“Did it work? Does it feel better?”

Hard to tell, since the ache had settled in his chest, thick and unmovable. Joseph’s world had been lived alone. Always alone. He’d learned early he could rely on no one but himself. No one. Not the authorities, not his friends and certainly not his parents. Anything he’d needed or wanted, he’d gotten on his own.

Like Caitlin, he’d once dreamed about having someone kiss away his pains. No one, to his recollection, had ever given a damn about him, not until her father had come along and dragged him off the fast track to nowhere. Edmund had saved his sorry hide, had been the first one to care, and now his daughter was staring at him with those huge dark eyes, wanting him to feel better even though it’d been she who’d turned his world upside down. “Yeah,” he told her. “It worked.”

Her beaming smile dazzled him, only this time his reaction was far more than just physical. It went deeper, and he didn’t think he liked it.

He didn’t want to feel this strange softening toward her. She was everything he couldn’t stand. Unmotivated. With a serious lack of ambition. Little common sense. With Edmund as her father, she’d had the world at her fingertips and what had she done? Thrown parties. Just remembering these things made him suitably irritated all over again, allowing him to forget that he’d almost, almost, started to like her.

Purposely, he hardened his face into the expression he knew could terrorize the toughest of souls. That should scare her. Keep him safe.

She smiled at him.

Dammit. How was he supposed to deal with that?

Around them, life continued to the music of clinking glasses and tinkling china. Voices sounded, some low and muted, some not. Laughter. And the smells… In another time and place, his surroundings might have fascinated him; he enjoyed watching people.

Today, he had eyes for only one person, and that bugged him. He stayed tucked behind his menu, pretending to scrutinize the list of entrées he had already memorized. What was happening to him?

It was her clothes—that’s what. Her amazing eyes. That infectious laugh. They were all designed to attract a man. Clearly, she enjoyed being looked at.

Knowing this about her helped him control the lust, because if he ever decided he wanted more than a passing fancy with a woman, which he wouldn’t, it would be with one who wanted him. It would be with a woman who didn’t send out signals to anything in pants. A woman who loved him heart and soul—him and only him.

This woman could do none of those things, and telling himself so helped. A little. But nothing could control his lethal curiosity. “Tell me about your father.”

She looked startled, then she shrugged. “You knew him better than me, so there’s nothing to tell.” She set her menu down and before he could continue his line of questioning, she said, “Joe, about your kitchen.”

“Don’t remind me,” he groaned, picking up his glass of water.

“I’ll clean it up.”

“No,” he said quickly, setting down the glass to lift his hands. “I’ll do it.”

“And your zip drive. I’m so sorry.”

“I said forget it.”

“Why didn’t you fire me?”

He’d wanted to. It had been the first thought that popped into his mind at the time, but he couldn’t very well tell her that. He knew he was difficult sometimes, but he never purposely hurt anyone.

“Joe?”

The menu again held his interest for a long moment before he slowly lowered it. “It’s best if we drop this now.”

“Why?”

The waitress came up to them, and because they both knew what they wanted, she took their menu shields, leaving Joe feeling strangely exposed. Vulnerable.

“Why, Joe?”

Spreading his big hands on the table, he stared at them. “I’ll tell you on one condition. No, make that two. First, you don’t take this personally, and second, after I tell you, you have to be honest back and tell me why someone with your wealth and means would want this job in the first place.”

Humiliating as it would be to disclose her predicament, she had to know. “Deal.”

His light blue eyes penetrated hers. “I can’t fire you. I promised your father I’d give you a job. It’s in the will.”

The waitress brought their food, and Joe dug in.

Caitlin stared at him helplessly. “I don’t understand. The will doesn’t say ‘for as long as I want it.’ All it says is that you’ll hire me.”

“So much for not taking this personally.” He sighed and set down his fork. “Yes, but I promised him.”

“When?”

“Before he died. He’d been having health problems.”

He’d never told her. She’d never asked. Guilt stabbed at her.

“It seemed to mean a lot to him that you have this job, so I went along with it.”

She managed to speak evenly. “You don’t strike me as a man who’d go along with anything that didn’t suit your purposes, Joe.”

“Since that’s pretty much true, I suppose there’s no use in being insulted.” But his jaw was tight as he lifted his glass to his lips. “Let’s just call it the repaying of a debt, and in this case, despite any trouble you might cause, I could hire you for the rest of your life and not make a dent in what I owe him.”

The image of her father came to mind—powerful, busy, always gone. Much as he’d given her in material things, he’d rarely had time for anything else. It was hard to imagine him inspiring this kind of fierce loyalty. “What is this great thing he did for you?”

“He rescued me.” When she just stared at him in surprise, he said, “Twenty years ago, he took a twelve-year-old know-it-all street kid out of an alley where he was about to be killed by a gangbanger for hustling him.”

“Were you the twelve-year-old or the gangbanger?”

He grinned, his first, and it was a stunner. “The former.”

But Caitlin didn’t see the humor. She was horrified, picturing a poor, thin, starving kid fighting off a dangerous thug—no matter she’d thought of Joe as a thug himself earlier that day. “Where were your parents?”

He shrugged broad shoulders. “I never knew my father, and there were six kids. My mother couldn’t feed us all. I’d been pretty much on my own for a couple of years.”

“Oh, Joe. I’m sorry.”

“I turned out all right,” he said, lowering his head and shoveling in more food. He smiled suddenly, and the charm of it surprised her. She kept forgetting how good-looking he was, behind all that attitude. “Edmund cleaned me up and hauled me off to a Laker game.”

Her jaw dropped. To her knowledge, her father had been too busy for sports. He’d certainly never taken her to a game. “He did?”

“Yeah.” He smiled at the memory. “They won, too. Then he dumped me in a tough school designed for…troubled kids.”

“And for really smart ones, too, I’ll bet.”

Joseph’s head jerked up, his eyes hot and defensive. “Yeah,” he said finally, as though it was a hard thing to admit.

Now it made sense, all too well. She knew how attractive a homeless, orphaned, incredibly brilliant boy would have been to her father. Especially when all he’d gotten was a weak, not so smart female. Resentment hit, only to be beaten back by shame.

What would have happened to Joe if her father hadn’t intervened?

“He came for me every weekend, which at first really ticked me off,” Joe admitted. “But he stuck with me until the end.” He met her gaze unwaveringly. “He saved my life, princess. I owe him everything, and in return, I’d do anything for him.”

Including putting up with a secretary he didn’t want. Suddenly feeling a little sick and unbearably lonely even in the middle of a crowded restaurant, Caitlin set down her fork and tried to ignore the tightness in her chest. How pathetic her poor-little-rich-girl story would seem to him. “What happened to your mother?”

He chugged down his water and attacked the basket of bread sticks. “She lives in Vegas. Waitresses occasionally.”

“And the others? Your brothers and sisters?”

His blue eyes became shuttered, and she imagined he masked pain and loneliness. “Scattered around.” His gaze dropped to the bread he held, which he then polished off in one bite.

She learned far more about Joe by watching his eyes than listening to his words. His eyes were much more expressive than he could possibly know. “Do you ever see them?”

“They’re all busy with their own lives. My mother calls me once in a while.”

Caitlin swallowed hard, hurting for the boy who’d grown up too fast. Who’d learned to count only on himself. “You support her, don’t you?”

He stirred, clearly uncomfortable. “Maybe.”

“Why is it so hard to admit you help her?”

“Why is it so hard for you to understand that most people don’t like their lives to be an open book?”

She was beginning to realize the man was all bark, no bite. He liked his distance. Too bad she didn’t do the distance thing so well.

Joe fell silent as he continued to feed himself with obvious relish, making Caitlin wonder where he put all the food. He certainly didn’t have a spare ounce of fat on him. She glanced up, and caught the curious gazes of Vince, Tim and Andy from across the room. The twins grinned at her. Vince’s smile was more subdued, worried.

Sweet, she thought. And chicken. She stuck her tongue out at them, and they laughed.

Joe polished off his plate and glanced at hers. “Are you going to finish?”

If she drew a deep breath, she’d pop the button on her tight skirt. “No.” He continued to gaze longingly at the lasagna left on her plate. Laughing, she pushed it toward him, then watched in amazement as he finished it off.

“To be honest,” Joe told her when he’d finally filled himself. “I never thought you’d actually take the job.”

Here it comes, she thought. His scorn. And after learning about him and his past, she knew she deserved every bit of it. She took a deep breath. “I need this job.”

“Right.”

“It’s true. I’m deeply in debt, and without the income, meager as it is, I’ll be homeless and on the streets just like you once were.”

He stared at her. “No way.”

“Yes way.” She played with her water glass. “Those assets you spoke of that first day, my car and my place, they haven’t been paid for. As you know, they’re far out of my league with what you’re paying me. I’m flat broke.”

“What about the will?”

“What about it? I got nothing.”

“Then why did Edmund stipulate such a low salary? He was the most generous man I know.”

She shrugged, even managed a light smile, but Joe wasn’t fooled. Pain blazed from her eyes.

“Maybe he just didn’t realize?” he suggested.

“Whether he realized or not doesn’t matter,” she said. “The sorry truth is, this job is all I have, and I desperately need it. I know you hate it, Joe, and to tell you the truth, so do I. There’s just not much choice in the matter at the moment.”

Dammit. Dammit all to hell. He didn’t want to feel this quick, inexplicable tug of concern, of protectiveness, shame because he’d gotten from Edmund what his own daughter hadn’t. “He didn’t mean to hurt you.” He could bank on that.

“You think so?” She lifted those huge, liquid eyes to his. “Even when I’m a spoiled princess? Always had the world at my fingertips? Isn’t that what you’ve thought all along?” She smiled humorlessly at his wince. “But you know what? All I really wanted was his time. How’s that for spoiled? He had you, though, and that was all he needed.”

Lunch lodged in his throat. “I gather you weren’t close.”

“Don’t pretend that you two didn’t talk about me. I know what he thought of my lifestyle.”

How to tell her that Edmund had rarely spoken of her at all, and only at the very end? Clearly, he didn’t have to tell her; she’d looked at his face and seen the truth.

“I must seem double pathetic now.”

“No,” he said, leaning close, disturbed by that protectiveness he felt. “Caitlin…”

“Don’t apologize for him. It was my fault, too. I didn’t see him much because of our respective business schedules. And don’t,” she said quickly, raising a hand. “Don’t make some crack about poor little socialite me. If you’re thinking I had it pretty good, you’re right. I did. I never had to live on the streets, fighting for my life, and I certainly never went hungry or without clothes. But I also never had what I really wanted, which was someone to tell me they loved me.”

Joe hadn’t thought, hadn’t wondered…all those times he and Edmund spent together, he had never thought to ask about Edmund’s daughter, or where she was. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, well aware of the inadequacy of those words.

“Don’t be sorry for me.” She tucked a loose wave of hair behind her ear and gave him a look from beneath lowered lashes that he couldn’t quite read. “I’m just glad I still have a job.”

He looked at the woman who had cheerfully and without complaint thrown herself wholeheartedly into a job that had been forced on her. She’d genuinely tried hard, even when out of her element. She’d given it her all.

Damn. He pulled his thoughts up short. He’d done it again. Just one bright, open smile and he’d folded. One bat of those long lashes and he was willing to forget that he could hardly tolerate her. Purposefully, he hardened himself. “All I need you to do is answer the phones, Caitlin. Nothing else. Just the phones,” he said, leaning forward to make his point, grabbing her hand when she ignored him. He thought of how his office looked once she’d started to organize it. “Promise me.”

Her voice filled with wounded pride, she countered, “I can do more, far more, if you’d teach me.”

The waitress saved him from replying, and he was grateful. She tactfully set down their bill almost in the center of the table, but slightly closer to Joe.

He picked up the slip, reaching for his wallet and scanning the balance at the same time. “Eighteen-fifty,” he muttered to himself. “With a tip that’s—”

“Two dollars and seventy-eight cents,” Caitlin whispered politely, leaning forward discreetly. “But leave three-seventy instead.”

“What?”

“Twenty percent.” Caitlin was leaning close enough to daze him with that light, sexy scent she wore. “You should leave twenty percent since we got such great service.” She opened her purse and he put a hand over hers, halting her.

“Wait a minute.” He shook his head to clear it, then gazed back into guileless eyes the color of milk chocolate. “Are you telling me you can multiply in your head like that, instantly?”

Caitlin flashed him a self-conscious smile. “Uh…yes. I’m sorta good with numbers. Big ones.” She shrugged. “It’s a semi-useless talent.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Well, it does come in handy when I’m shopping in Mexico City and trying to figure out the exchange rate.”

Again he shook his head, counting out bills.

“Twenty-two dollars and twenty cents,” she said helpfully.

“Amazing,” he said, dropping the cash in the tray and handing it up to the waiting server.

Caitlin was staring solemnly at him.

“What now? You thinking about calculating the national debt?”

She shook her head. “I’ve never had to support myself before, Joseph. And I realize I’m spoiled. But that’s going to change.” She let out a little laugh. “It has to, actually. I don’t have any money.”

“Maybe a loan,” he said desperately. “They have them everywhere now. All the banks…”

“I want to work.”

“There are other jobs, other things you could do that would suit you better.”

“I’m not a quitter, Joe.” Determination and pure grit shimmered off her, and her voice was soft yet strong and even, completely without rancor. “I just need a little time to prove myself. And if you don’t have the inclination to give me the time I need, then I’m sure Andy and Tim and Vince will.”

She had that right, he thought as he glanced at the three cohorts, all staring across the room directly at Caitlin, stars sparkling in their eyes.

Caitlin scooted back from the table and rose with wounded dignity. Every male eye in the place was instantly on her. Every eye but Joe’s.

He was lost in thoughts of her determination and grit—two of his favorite qualities. He almost liked her, he realized with some surprise.

How many people could he say that about?