Bronwyn Jameson - In Bed with the Boss's Daughter

“Oh, my God…I’m so sorry!”

Julie’s expression brimmed with censure. “Why is there coffee on my desk?”

Paris didn’t think “Because I spilled it” was the answer Julie sought. “I brought you coffee,” she supplied as a weak substitute.

The other girl stared back. “Why?”

Paris shrugged and laughed nervously. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Oh, why didn’t I listen to those second thoughts? Before, she merely suspected my ineptness. Now I’ve gone and proven it.

“I don’t drink coffee at work,” Julie stated coldly.

“Well, I don’t blame you. The stuff in that coffee machine tastes like potting mix.”

“You’ve tasted it?”

“Potting mix? No way,” Paris grimaced. “I just assume it tastes like that instant caterer’s brew.”

“I meant the coffee.” Julie’s long-suffering look indicated she wasn’t amused by Paris’s attempt at lightening the moment. “I imagined you’d get your coffee sent up from Guido’s.” She glanced tellingly at the one mug still standing, its ornate gold logo glinting under the fluorescent light. Then, with a last coldly antagonistic glare, she pulled out her chair and sat down.

Paris’s chin rose in a reflex action. She knew she’d been summarily dismissed, but she refused to slink off like a naughty child. “I didn’t have the coffee sent up, I collected it myself.” When the other woman didn’t respond, irritation needled Paris into continuing. “I can understand why you didn’t welcome me with open arms. You don’t have to like me being here but, please, could you give me a fair chance to do my job?”

“The job you got through fair means?” Her tone was mild enough, but Julie’s brown eyes sparked with resentment, and Paris wondered if she had a personal agenda.

“I didn’t ask for this particular job, my father did. Please don’t hold that against me.”

A quick flush stained Julie’s cheeks, but she didn’t answer. Instead she started to sort through the coffee-splattered papers, fanning them out on the desk in an unspoken indictment of Paris’s incompetence.

“Did you want this job?”

Julie’s hands stilled, but her startled gaze flew to meet Paris’s. “Good heavens, no. Whatever gave you that idea? I love my job.” She looked down at the papers in her hand, sighed resignedly. “Jack is already working too many jobs. He needed someone to take work off his shoulders, not to add to his workload.”

The same old argument, Paris thought, with an irritated shake of her head. But then something about the heat in Julie’s defense of her boss caused her thoughts to back up a step. And before she could censor those thoughts, she blurted, “Do you have something going with Jack?”

Shock, swift and immediate, widened Julie’s eyes. “Good heavens, no.” She blew out a disbelieving gust of breath. “I mean, he is the most wonderful boss, but there’s no way we could, that I could…” She shook her head, apparently speechless.

“Because he’s your boss?”

“Because he’s not the least bit interested in me.” She glanced at Paris, and a small glint of unexpected humor danced in her eyes. “And if he was, Warren would break every bone in his body.”

“Warren?”

“My boyfriend. He’s a little possessive.” The look in her eyes indicated that she didn’t mind Warren’s possessiveness one bit.

Paris smiled back because she couldn’t help herself. Her heart felt lighter—because Julie had shared something personal, not because that something had any special ramifications, she told herself.

But as quickly as they’d connected, Julie seemed to pull back. Her smile faded. “I suppose you want those Landing files. I told you I’d call when I had them together.”

“And I wanted to help.”

Julie looked at the papers spread before her. “I wish you hadn’t.”

For the first time Paris took a good look at the pages. “They’re ruined, aren’t they?”

“Pretty much.” Julie shrugged. “They’re all on computer. I can reprint them.”

“Can I help?” Paris offered impulsively.

Julie considered the offer for a long moment. “I guess you could. That would give me time to get you those files.” She peeled one letter from the desk and held it up for Paris to see. “This reference number…here…corresponds to the file name in my computer. They’re in different directories, but you can find them by doing a search.” She looked up and must have caught the bewildered look on Paris’s face. “You do know how to find a file, don’t you?”

“I could learn.”

Julie turned away. “It will be quicker if I do it myself.”

This time Paris did feel like slinking away. Only the thought of spending another day doing nothing stopped her. “There is one other thing.” Julie’s expression was so put-upon that Paris lifted her chin automatically. “I want to arrange a meeting with the real estate agents who are marketing the Landing. Do you have their names?”

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