Maureen Child - Wanted by the Boss

Behind her, lamplight glowed in a pale, golden haze over the table where Rick sat, still working over the last of Ed Harrington’s file. She half turned to look at him and caught herself noticing how he ran his fingers through his hair. How his tie always crooked to the right when he was tired enough to loosen it. How his eyes shone in the lamplight. How his shoulders looked broader without the confines of his ever-present suit jacket.

Her blood pumped simply looking at him and she turned around, grateful that he was still immersed in his work. Just as well, she told herself, curling her fingers around the wrought-iron railing. They’d done fine all day, working side by side. She’d listened to him advising Ed about investments and his portfolios and even though she hadn’t understood a word of it, she’d had to admit to being impressed.

But now that the work was finished for the day, her brain was free to think about other things. And not one of them had anything to do with his brain .

Lightning flashed, illuminating the edges of the clouds overhead and tracing white-hot, jagged fingers across the sky. Thunder boomed, closer this time.

‘‘You’re gonna get wet in a minute.’’

Her pulse quickened as Rick stepped out onto the balcony beside her. ‘‘I love a storm,’’ she said over the rumble of thunder. ‘‘We don’t see many of them.’’

‘‘Good thing. Had to shut the computer off because of the lightning.’’

Eileen smiled. ‘‘Poor worker bee. Had to stop.’’

‘‘There’s always the battery.’’

She nodded. ‘‘So why’re you out here?’’

He shifted his gaze from her to the storm-tossed sky. ‘‘Like you said, we don’t see many of ’em.’’ He leaned forward and braced his hands on the railing. ‘‘You were good today.’’

‘‘Thanks.’’ Nice compliment but she hadn’t done all that much. Typing while they talked wasn’t that tough.

He sighed and looked out over the garden below and the hills beyond the inn. ‘‘Edward’s never talked that much. He’s been a client for two years and I’ve never heard him talk about his late wife.’’ Turning his head, he looked at her. ‘‘But you had him reminiscing inside a half hour.’’

‘‘He thinks you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread,’’ she said, remembering how the older man had heaped praise on Rick. ‘‘He said you took his modest savings account and fixed it so that he doesn’t have to worry—’’ she paused and smiled ‘‘—and that his grandkids will say great things about him because he left them so much money!’’

Rick grinned and shook his head. ‘‘His grandkids are nuts about him. He takes them fishing every weekend.’’

‘‘And he says that you’ve made lots of money for all of his friends,’’ Eileen said, as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘‘They buy him coffee every morning at the doughnut shop, just to thank him for referring you to them.’’

‘‘That’s nice to hear.’’ His gaze drifted over her lazily.

‘‘He says you’re the smartest man he’s ever met.’’

‘‘He exaggerates.’’

‘‘Maybe.’’ But Eileen had to admit, she’d seen a whole new side of Rick today. Though to be fair, she’d been seeing him anew all week. The terrible boy he’d been was gone, and in his place was a thoughtful, intelligent man who was as careful with his clients’ life savings as he would have been with his own grandmother’s. Plus, he looked incredibly good when his tie was loose.

Whoops. Where did that come from?

‘‘Ed’s a sweetheart,’’ she said quickly, jumping back to their conversation. ‘‘Sweet, sad and still lonely for the woman he loved most of his life.’’

‘‘He enjoyed talking about her today.’’

She nodded. ‘‘All I did was listen. He was nice.’’

‘‘Yeah,’’ Rick agreed, staring into her eyes with a steadiness that made her shaky. ‘‘You’re pretty nice yourself.’’

‘‘Wow.’’ She waved a hand at her face dramatically, as if to ease a nonexistent blush. ‘‘My little heart’s fluttering.’’

‘‘Uh-huh.’’ A wry grin touched one corner of his mouth. ‘‘Smells good out here,’’ he said, and slid his hand on the railing until it brushed against hers.

Her skin heated, warmth rushing through her bloodstream. ‘‘It’s the rain in the wind.’’

‘‘Nope,’’ he said, turning his head to look at her. ‘‘It’s more like—’’ he leaned in closer to her, inhaled ‘‘—flowers.’’

Her breath caught when she stared into his eyes.

‘‘It’s you, Eileen.’’ His gaze shifted, moving over her face, her throat, her breasts, and back up again.

‘‘Rick…’’ She hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected him to say anything about the tension simmering between them. And now that he had, she wasn’t sure what to do about it.

Her body, on the other hand, knew just what to do. Her heartbeat crashed in her ears, louder than the thunder booming out around them. Heat spiraled through her body, churning her insides, fogging her brain, liquefying her knees.

He drew back and turned his head to stare out into the night and the blustering storm. ‘‘Forget it,’’ he muttered. ‘‘Shouldn’t have said anything. Just let it go.’’

She should, Eileen told herself. If there was ever a moment to pay attention, to take an order, now was it. She should do just what he said and forget he’d ever opened this particular can of worms.

But she wouldn’t.

Couldn’t.

‘‘Don’t want to let it go,’’ she admitted, and her words were nearly swallowed by the next slam of thunder.

He snapped her a look and slowly straightened, reaching for her, drawing her up close. ‘‘We should, though.’’

‘‘Right.’’ She laid her hands on his forearms. ‘‘We don’t even like each other.’’

‘‘Yeah. You’re a flake.’’

‘‘And you’re wound so tight, in a hundred years, you’ll be a diamond.’’

‘‘So,’’ he said, ‘‘we forget the whole thing.’’

‘‘That would be the reasonable thing to do,’’ she said, and swept her hands up his arms to encircle his neck.

‘‘I want you more than my next breath,’’ he said tightly. ‘‘Screw reason.’’

His mouth came down on hers just as another, bigger, slash of lightning scraped jagged fingers across the sky. Brilliant light flashed before her closed eyelids and Eileen felt the sizzle in the air. As the following thunder boomed around them, it seemed to pale in comparison to the thudding of her own heart.

Rick lifted his head and stared down at her, his breath rushing from his lungs. Behind them, the room was dark, plunged into blackness.

‘‘Power’s out,’’ he murmured.

‘‘Not from where I’m standing,’’ she said, meeting his gaze, her blood quickening on the hunger she read there.

A cold, strong wind whipped past them, wrapped itself around their bodies like a frigid embrace, then dissolved in their combined heat. Lightning flashed, thunder rolled and desire, fed by the raging storm, clawed at them. Air rushed in and out of Eileen’s lungs and still, she felt light-headed, as if a fog were settling over her brain, making thought impossible. But who needed to think when your blood was racing and your stomach was spinning and all points south were tingling in anticipation?

Rick must have felt the same because he took her mouth again. Hunger roared through her as he plundered her. His tongue parted her lips and swept into her warmth, tasting, exploring, plunging again and again into her depths. She welcomed him, her tongue meeting his in a tangled dance of need.

She arched forward, pressing herself into him, and moving, rubbing her aching nipples against his chest and torturing herself with the action. Her knees went weak and she tightened her grip on his shoulders to keep herself upright. His hands moved over her body, up and down her spine. He dragged her shirt free of the waistband of her skirt and skimmed his hands beneath it. Her skin tingled, firing with his touch until she felt as if every square inch of her body were bursting into flame.