Читать книгу Scorned by the Boss / The Texan's Secret Past: Scorned by the Boss - Maureen Child - Страница 10

Four

“You’re being selfish.”

“I’m selfish?” Caitlyn repeated, completely flabbergasted that he could even say such a thing. The man who believed the world revolved around him? The man who expected everyone in his life to jump whenever he entered a room? The man who’d ruined every vacation she’d ever tried to take with his own demands? “Are you serious?”

“This isn’t like you, Caitlyn,” he said tightly, his voice dropping to a snarl that usually had his employees in a mad dash for the closest exit.

“No,” she agreed, not even flustered by that snarl. She’d heard it too often to be dismayed by it at this late date. “It’s not like me at all. That’s why I’m doing it.”

“That makes no sense at all,” he pointed out, taking a sip of coffee, then setting his cup down on the credenza beside hers.

“It makes perfect sense.” She threw her hands high, let them drop again and did a quick about-face. Marching away from him for five or six steps, she felt fury rumbling through her, and for the first time in her life, she welcomed it. Stopping dead, she whirled around to face him and pointed her index finger at him accusingly. “You totally expect me to drop everything and do whatever you want me to do. And how can I even blame you for it? My whole life I’ve done exactly what I was supposed to.”

“Admirable.”

“Or weak,” she countered, stalking right back to him. “My parents, my brothers, Peter, you. You’ve all steamrolled over me because I kept lying down on the street and assuming the position. Allowing you all to get away with bossing me around. Well, no more. I’m done.”

“Caitlyn, you work for me.” His voice was deliberately cold. Tolerant. She knew the tone. She’d heard him use it on those who were trying his very limited amount of patience. But Caitlyn wasn’t going to back down.

“I tell you when you take a vacation and when your presence is required,” he said tightly. “I require you with me in Portugal.”

“But you really don’t, Jefferson,” she said, and wondered why she was bothering to repeat herself. He hadn’t heard her the first time; he wouldn’t hear her this time, either. He never heard anything he didn’t want to hear. “The hotel can provide an assistant. Or you could take Georgia with you.”

“Georgia?” His annoyance shuddered in the air around her.

Okay, fine. That was a cheap shot, she thought. No way could Georgia do the job to Jefferson’s expectations. But the point is, he didn’t need anyone with him.

“The work’s done, Jefferson,” she said, trying for calm, despite the way her stomach was jittering. “You’ve made the offer, the papers have been drawn up and looked over by Legal. All you have to do is sign the papers, take a tour of the ship and slap the Lyon logo on her hull. Why do you need me there?”

“Because,” he said, his voice low and tight, “I pay you to be where I need you, when I need you. This is your job, Caitlyn.”

Her head was buzzing. Her blood pumped hard and fast and her stomach did a couple of weird spins. Her job. And she was the first to admit it was a good one. She made a healthy salary, owned her own home—true, a condo, but still a home—and she did darn good work.

But apparently, somewhere along the way, she’d become a piece of office equipment. Steady, dependable, necessary, but as far as Jefferson was concerned, she had no more feelings than the copier that continually demanded more toner.

She hadn’t expected he would take the news of her upcoming vacation lightly. But she also hadn’t expected him to be such a jerk about it. Other people took vacations. Had lives. Why shouldn’t she?

Jefferson Lyon was a man who expected everything around him to fall into line. He walked through life issuing orders with the expectation that they would be followed. Quickly. And as much as that strength and confidence appealed to her, she was just now understanding how hard it was to live with.

Peter had been the same way, just on a smaller scale. Strong, silent, clearly in charge—and she’d gone along with him just as easily as she had with Jefferson. What in the hell did that say about her? Was she really so willing to lose herself in a strong man?

“You know,” she mused aloud, her voice hardly more than a hush as she talked more to herself than to him, “I should have seen this coming a long time ago. But I didn’t want to.”

“Seen what?”

She glanced at him and noted the confusion in his eyes and the familiar stamp of irritation on his features. What was it about this man? He appealed to her on too many levels. She knew that already. And so, apparently, had Peter. But now that she thought about it, Caitlyn was forced to admit that she’d actually been drawn to Peter in the first place because he’d sort of reminded her of…Jefferson.

Oh, good god.

“Are you in a fugue state of some kind?” he prompted.

“Actually,” she said as her emotional blinders came off and she was nearly blinded by the light, “I think I’m just coming out of one.”

“Good. Then, maybe we can get some work done.”

“It’s the alpha-male thing,” she mused, tipping her head to one side and staring at him as if he were a smear on a glass slide under a microscope. How was it she’d never come to this realization before? How had she allowed herself to just drift in Jefferson’s wake? “It has been all along. Peter. You. Even my brothers.”

“What’re you talking about now?”

“Revelations,” she said quietly, almost amused now, as everything became clear.

“You do realize you’re not making sense, right?”

“Oh, this makes perfect sense, you’re just not getting it. Big surprise. And let me tell you,” she said nodding for emphasis, “it took me long enough, but I’ve learned my lesson. I’m through with you alpha types. Give me a nice, easy-to-get-along-with beta guy. No more strong, silent, take-charge types for me. I want someone nice. Sweet. Sensitive.”

His lips twisted. “Sounds more like a golden retriever.”

“You would think that, of course.”

“Look,” Jefferson said, dipping his hands into his pants pockets, “somehow, we’ve gotten way off the subject. And believe it or not, I’m not really interested in your personal life. You can date whoever you want to as soon as we get back from Portugal.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

“Now that we have that settled,” he said, dismissing her as completely as if he were swatting away an annoying gnat, “there are a few more things I need you to do before I leave for the airport. Call the pilot, tell him to be ready in an hour. Then, when you’ve done that, contact the Florida office. Tell them I’ll be there Friday. And cancel my appointments for the next two days. I don’t know how long I’ll be in Seattle and—”

She watched him as he turned for his office, plowing right ahead with the world according to Jefferson. He’d moved on and assumed she had, too. Absolutely nothing she’d said had penetrated his thick head. Her back teeth ground together, and before she could bite back the word and swallow it, she said simply, “No.”

He stopped dead, turned to look at her and lifted one eyebrow. “No?”

Caitlyn took another deep breath because if she didn’t she might start hyperventilating. Everything in her was demanding she sit down and wait calmly for this firestorm of emotion to fade away. So to make sure she didn’t listen to that annoying, logical instinct, she moved fast. Shaking her head, she opened the bottom drawer of her desk and grabbed her purse. Slinging it over her shoulder, she snatched up her suit jacket and tossed it across her arm. “That’s right. I said no.”

“Caitlyn, I’ve taken all I’m going to take for one morning.”

“And I’ve given all I’m going to give,” she snapped. Temper spiked inside her, pushing aside all those annoying rational thoughts—and maybe that was for the best. Because, if she calmed down, took a moment to actually think about what she was doing, she’d never do it. “I’m done.”

He laughed.

He actually laughed.

Then he asked, “What are you talking about?”

“I quit.”

He couldn’t have looked more surprised if she had announced that she was about to give birth to a Martian.

“You can’t quit.”

“I just did.” She blinked, laid one hand on her racing heart and felt her insides slowly calm, as though someone had poured oil on a choppy sea. Strange. She waited for a jolt of panic, but it didn’t come. As much as she had always loved her job, at this moment, she knew she was doing the right thing in quitting. “Wow. I actually did it. I quit.”

“This is ridiculous.” He took a step toward her, and she backed up just for good measure. She wasn’t sure where she’d found the courage to tender her resignation, but she wasn’t going to risk him talking her out of it.

Where was all of this newfound sense of spirit and independence coming from? She had no idea. Maybe it had started with Peter ending their engagement. Or maybe it had been when her fiancé had suggested that she was really in love with her boss. And maybe it was that one startling revelation that had just come to her moments ago. Whatever the reason, though, Caitlyn knew in her bones that this was the right thing to do.

She needed a fresh start. With her life. With her career. And she’d never get it if she stayed close to Jefferson Lyon. The man was too powerful. Too magnetic. Too damn sexy.

Peter was wrong about her loving Jefferson. She firmly believed that. But she wasn’t foolish enough to deny the attraction she felt for the man. And how could she ever straighten out her own life when she was so near the man who could make her knees go to jelly?

“No, this makes perfect sense,” she told him, rounding the edge of her desk.

“All of this over a vacation?”

“No, Jefferson,” she said, feeling the swell of righteous indignation fill her. “It’s about working for a man who never sees me as anything more than a convenience.”

He frowned at her, his blue eyes going dark and narrow, and just for a minute, Caitlyn’s courage waned. Then the phone on her desk rang and she instinctively reached for it. “Lyon Shipping.”

“Caitlyn, love, it’s Max again. I’d forgotten something I wanted to tell your boss.”

Gritting her teeth, she said, “He’s not my boss anymore, Max, but here he is.”

“What? What?” Max’s voice came through loud and clear as she handed the receiver to Jefferson.

“Caitlyn,” Jefferson said, hanging up the phone without talking to his old friendly enemy. “I won’t allow you to simply quit.”

“You can’t stop me, Jefferson,” she said, and then left before she could stop herself from walking away from him.

A few hours later, Jefferson stormed around the perimeter of the huge room in his father’s Seattle house. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows in the old man’s study, the sky was gray and spitting rain on the city as if it held a personal grudge. Trees bent in the wind coming off the Sound, and the patter of rain slashing against the windows sounded harsh in the stillness.

“If you’ll sit down, we can sign these papers and finish this,” his father said, following Jefferson’s progress around the room. “I’ve got a golf game in an hour.”

“Golf?” Jefferson said, stopping to wave a hand at the weather. “In this?”

Harry Lyon shrugged in his oatmeal-colored sweater. “I’m meeting friends at the club. Your mother’s gone to New York for the week and—” He stopped talking, watched his son for a long moment, then said, “Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”

“Caitlyn quit this morning.”

“Your secretary?”

“Assistant.”

Harry waved a hand at the distinction. “Why would she quit? She’s very good at her job.”

“I know,” Jefferson said, shoving both hands into his pockets and turning to the window to glare at the rain.

He’d been thinking about nothing else for the last few hours. On the short flight to Seattle he’d gone over and over their argument and he still didn’t understand why she’d suddenly quit. It just wasn’t like her.

But then, he’d seen a whole new side to Caitlyn that morning. She’d never lost her temper with him. She’d always been the soul of professionalism. Seeing indignation and fury sparking in her eyes had caught him by surprise—something that wasn’t easy to do.

“What’re you going to do about it?” his father asked.

Jefferson turned his head to look at the older man. Since retiring, his father had never looked happier. Despite—or maybe because of—the heart attack he’d experienced a few months ago, Harry Lyon was determined to enjoy his life.

Which, it turns out, is why the old man had wanted Jefferson to fly up for the day. Harry was turning over the reins to the family company. Stepping out completely. Ordinarily Jefferson would have been pleased as hell about it. He’d worked hard for this moment for years. Now, though, his mind was too full of Caitlyn’s abrupt treachery to really take it all in.

“Well?” Harry prompted from his seat on an oversize leather armchair.

What was he going to do about it? There was only one answer. He was going to get her back. Jefferson Lyon didn’t lose. The word wasn’t even in his vocabulary. Nobody walked out on him. Not until he was damn good and ready. And he wasn’t nearly ready to lose Caitlyn. The woman was too integral to his work. She knew everything. Had her pulse on the entire company.

And who would he talk to in the morning?

She was just too important to let go.

“I’ll get her back,” Jefferson said, his mind already sifting through scenarios, searching for just the right way to tempt her back to work. A raise? Possibly. More vacation time? He frowned. Too much of a hot button with her at the moment. A promotion to executive level? Not bad. But it was going to take more than improving her working conditions to convince Caitlyn to come back. It was going to take… A slow, sure smile curved his mouth as he realized what he was going to do about Caitlyn.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Harry folded his hands at his middle. “What’s the plan?”

Jefferson turned his smile on his father, but he had no intention of filling the man in on this. He wouldn’t approve. Wouldn’t understand that the only sure way to get Caitlyn back was to seduce her into thinking it was her own idea.

If there was one thing Jefferson Lyon knew, it was women. He’d romance her, seduce her, ply her with jewelry, then act like a jerk and let her break up with him. She’d feel so bad she’d be bound to come back to work.

“Don’t worry about it, Dad,” he said, smiling now at the rain-washed window. “I’ve got it covered.”

Now that she was—gulp—unemployed, Caitlyn had absolutely no reason to stick around home. Instead, she called the resort and was lucky enough to snatch up a room freed by a sudden cancellation. Another sign from the universe that she was doing the right thing. And she appreciated it.

It had felt completely liberating to stand up to Jefferson and quit her job, but now that it was done, she was having a few doubts. She’d saved plenty of her salary, so she was fine for several months moneywise, but she’d never been unemployed. Not since she’d left college. A weird sensation passed through her to know that she didn’t have to be somewhere at an appointed time. Even weirder to realize she had zero obligations to worry about.

When her stomach hitched nervously as she climbed out of the cab and stood outside Fantasies, she reminded herself that she’d done the right thing. She only hoped that soon she’d believe it. Meanwhile, she’d closed up her condo and flown to the island almost a full two weeks ahead of her friends.

Janine and Debbie were completely supportive, of course, which is why they were such good friends. They’d applauded her resignation and promised to keep in touch until they were able to join her at Fantasies.

“Until then,” Caitlyn whispered, getting a good grip on the handle of her suitcase as a tropical breeze kissed her skin, “you’re here to relax. So get started already.”

A soft island breeze danced over her skin and carried the scents of both the sea and the banks of flowers surrounding the exclusive resort. She inhaled deeply, tasting freedom and settling the jitters in her stomach at the same time.

“May I take your bag for you?”

She jolted a little and turned around to find a tall, gorgeous man in the Fantasies uniform of deep red shirt over white slacks smiling at her. “Hi.”

“Hello, and welcome to Fantasies,” he said, brown eyes twinkling. “Let me just take your bag inside for you.”

“Thanks.” She handed her suitcase off to him and followed him into the lobby, turning her head from side to side, admiring the lush flower beds on either side of the wide coral walkway. Their combined scents flavored the air with spice and the splash of a small waterfall from somewhere nearby soothed away the last of Caitlyn’s nerves.

When she stepped into the wide-open lobby, she came to an abrupt stop and simply stared.

Amazing was the only word for it.

The floor was cool blue tile, giving you the feeling you were walking on water. White wicker chairs with plush red cushions were staggered around the immense, open lobby in clusters of conversation zones. There were several squat glass tables boasting clear crystal vases with brilliantly colored flowers spearing out of them.

The long, serpentine registration desk wound through the lobby in lazy curves of shining glass, behind which were tropical fish swimming through sparkling aqua water. Caitlyn smiled as she caught flashes of gold, red and deep green fish darting through the sea grasses and anemones waving in the swirling water.

Computers and telephones rested on the glass top of the desk and the people manning their stations looked as beautiful and perfect as the rest of this resort. Each of them wore red shirts, white slacks and brilliant smiles that would have made any orthodontist proud.

While she waited to register, Caitlyn accepted a crystal flute of champagne from a passing waiter and felt the last of her doubts slip away on a contented sigh. There would be time enough to worry about leaving Lyon Shipping. More than time enough to worry about finding a new job.

For right now, she was going to surrender to the lush, indulgent vibe pulsing through this place.

* * *

Two days later, though, Caitlyn was already getting a little antsy. She was doing her best to combat the feeling. Stretched out on a red-and-white-flowered chaise, with a tall tropical drink at her side, she set her paperback down on her stomach and looked out at the water.

Miles and miles of clear, beautiful ocean stretched out in front of her and eased into shore, lapping up across powdery white sand. A cool breeze took the edge off the heat and the simple beauty of the place should have been enough to make her relax. Instead, her rotten brain kept turning back to Jefferson. The look on his face when she’d quit. The fact that now that she didn’t work for him anymore, she’d probably never see him again.

But that was as it should be, right? There was nothing between them but a job she didn’t have anymore. So it was better that he was out of her life.

If that were true, though, why wasn’t she happier?

“I’m worried,” she said into her cell phone, picking up her drink for a sip of strawberry-flavored alcohol.

“About what?” Janine demanded. “You’re at the most talked-about resort on the planet. You’re being waited on hand and foot. You’re footloose and fancy-free. You’re young and single and there must be at least a dozen men in arm’s reach of you.”

“True,” Caitlyn admitted, letting her gaze slide across the sand and the golden-tanned bodies either laying in the sun or playing volleyball.

“So what could you possibly be worried about?”

“Jefferson,” she admitted on a disgusted groan. She couldn’t help it. She’d left him in the lurch, and that just didn’t feel right. She’d walked out of his office and his life without any more than a moment’s thought. Of course she shouldn’t have quit without even giving him proper notice. For heaven’s sake, she had more pride in her work than that. “I just walked out, Janine. Left him high and dry with nobody to run things.”

“Just what he deserved,” her friend said, then added to someone else, “Don’t put baby’s breath in with hydrangeas. For God’s sake, were you born in a barn?”

Caitlyn smiled. The high-priced florist shop where Janine was the head designer was always busy, and Janine was always on top of everything.

“Honestly, Cait,” she said on a sigh, “Lyon Shipping isn’t your problem anymore. You’ve got to learn to let go a little. How are you supposed to have a vacation if your brain’s still back here in Long Beach?”

“You’re right, I know you’re right,” she said, taking another sip of her drink and letting the icy concoction chill the quick flash of heat she felt just at the thought of Jefferson Lyon. “But, Janine—”

“No buts,” she interrupted. “Michael, if you break another vase, I swear, I’m going to—” The sound of breaking glass came through the phone loud and clear. “Just kill me now,” Janine muttered.

Caitlyn laughed.

A minute later, though, Janine said, “Cait, get out there and meet people. Men people. Get drunk. Get laid. Get Jefferson Lyon out of your system.”

A volleyball landed right next to her, spraying her with sand before bouncing to hit her stomach. “Hey!”

“What is it?” Janine asked.

“Attacked by a volleyball,” Caitlyn muttered as the ball’s owner jogged up to her, a big grin on his amazingly gorgeous face.

“Sorry about that,” the guy said. “I’m Chad. Can I buy you a drink to apologize?”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“Don’t you dare turn him down,” Janine ordered from a couple thousand miles away. “This is why you’re there, girlfriend. To relax. To live a little.”

“Umm…” Caitlyn said, listening to Janine and watching the gorgeous beach guy.

“Is he cute?”

“Uh-huh.” Like-a-movie-star cute.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “Fine.”

“Caitlyn Amanda Monroe,” Janine threatened, “don’t be an idiot. This is why you’re there. Remember?”

She remembered. She was supposed to be relaxing. Meeting new people. Men people. And there was no time like the present to get started, she supposed.

Nodding to herself, she smiled, swallowed her nervousness and said, “Hi, Chad. I’m Caitlyn. And I’d love a drink.”