Julianna Morris - The Bachelor Boss

Libby squirmed on the soft leather cushions, trying to sit up straight, and her leg brushed his thigh.

Damn. He should never have thought about her curves, her perfume, or anything else so personal. They worked together, for pity’s sake. She was his vice president. And if she was the reason he was so fierce about not dating someone in the company, then so what?

They’d had one date, eleven years ago. A date that ended with him taking a cold shower.

“Er…Libby,” Neil murmured, hoping she’d sit still and quit turning him on. Hell, he was in charge here.

“What?”

“About this morning—I meant you were attractive. Not that I was interested in starting something.”

“I see.” Her eyes darkened stormily. “Well, let me be clear. I’m not interested in starting something, either.”

Great.

They were both on the same page.

Of course, he’d ticked her off again, but hadn’t he decided a little conflict would be good for business?

Libby squirmed again, only this time she got to her feet. She tugged at her skirt that had ridden up and made an obvious attempt to compose herself.

“I’ll do some Internet research on these listings,” she said, color flags high in her cheeks. “Then I’ll prepare a preliminary report and you can decide which sites you’re going to visit next week.”

“The sites we’re going to visit,” Neil reminded. “We’re supposed to do this together so we can build teamwork. So we’ll drive ourselves rather than take a chauffeur,” he said, deciding it would be a good idea to have one of them occupied with driving. Besides, he didn’t care for limousines, no matter how convenient.

“Fine. I’ll e-mail the report to you later,” Libby said, and hurried out.

His private phone rang and he hauled himself off the couch to answer it.

“How is your first day as president going?” asked Kane.

Neil thought about Libby’s flashing eyes and the angry color in her cheeks, and decided he shouldn’t mention either one. “It’s great.”

“Good. You remember the party is tonight, right?” Their twin nieces’ fourth birthday party was that evening, and they both planned to leave work early.

“Yup. I’m coming.”

“Don’t forget you’re supposed to bring the ice cream.”

“Yeah. Strawberry, or something.” Neil deliberately sounded vague.

Kane’s sigh was exasperated, even over the phone line. “No. Chocolate for Peggy, and vanilla for Amy. Stop by the grocery store on the way. And get lots, you know how they love ice cream.”

Neil grinned. After their father’s death, Kane had done his best to fill his shoes, quitting college and managing to make a fortune at the same time he was supporting the family. He enjoyed playing big-brother-turned-father-figure so much, they still indulged him every now and then. Of course, he’d probably have his fill of being “daddy” once his wife gave birth to their first baby and he experienced 2:00 a.m. feedings for himself.

“That’s right. Thanks for the reminder.”

Neil chuckled as he replaced the receiver. He’d enjoyed running O’Rourke Enterprises when Kane was courting and on his honeymoon, but he hadn’t expected it to last. Having Kane decide to establish new internal corporate divisions was a boon.

Now with Libby as his vice president…he rubbed the side of his jaw. It was going to be interesting. She had some intriguing qualities he hadn’t expected, though whether they would help or hinder him, he didn’t know.

The phone rang again and he picked it up, still deep in thought. “O’Rourke, here.”

“That sounds so cold, darlin’.”

It was his mother.

“Are you calling to remind me about the ice cream? Kane already took care of that.”

“Actually I heard about Libby’s promotion, and thought you might bring her to the party. I haven’t seen the dear child since Kane and Beth’s wedding—you know Dylan is coming, and they got on so well at the reception.”

Neil groaned. His mom liked Libby Dumont, and she liked the idea of Libby becoming a daughter-in-law even more. She’d worked on him for a while, but when it became obvious that he and Libby were grossly incompatible, she’d decided his younger brother, Dylan, was a possibility.

He had news…Dylan had no more interest in finding a bride than he did.

“Mom, don’t you think trying to match Dylan with someone else might upset Katrina?”

“Dylan can’t see Kate, either, though she’s been standin’ right in front of him for years.” Pegeen sounded quite put out, because Katrina Douglas was another name on her daughter-in-law wish list. “But invite Libby just the same.”

“All right.” There wasn’t any point in arguing, when his mother made up her mind she could teach stubborn to a mule. “I’ll see you later.”

Neil dropped his head back onto his chair. He’d started the day with a great promotion, then he’d learned his vice president would be Libby Dumont. In just a few hours they’d already had several disagreements, and he’d been painfully reminded that she was still as attractive as ever.

Beautiful, really.

In a fresh-scrubbed sort of way.

And his delightful, very Irish mother was determined to get Libby married to one of her sons, come hell or high water.

Man, was he in trouble.

At four o’clock a new message alert flashed on Neil’s computer. He opened the e-mail and found Libby’s preliminary report, listing various properties, their historical significance and other pertinent material.

Neil quickly printed the document and hurried out. He walked into Libby’s office, and his nerves went on alert. It wasn’t that she dressed provocatively. Her trim, dark blue suit accentuated the slender lines of her body without drawing attention to her curves. Problem was, he knew all about her curves and how good they felt beneath his fingers—so good he’d never forgotten it.

She was standing next to her desk, explaining something to a tall, gangly young man who looked familiar for some reason.

“Mr. O’Rourke,” the young man exclaimed when he saw Neil. He threw out a nervous hand and knocked over a cup of coffee.

Oh, jeez.

Neil remembered him now. Duncan “Dunk” Anderson. Every time he’d ever seen Dunk he’d managed to spill, break, spindle or mutilate something.

Libby grabbed a handful of tissue and began sopping up the mess. She shot a dire glance in Neil’s direction, which seemed patently unfair since it was Dunk who’d spilled the coffee.

“I’m so sorry, Libby. I can’t believe I did that.”

“It’s all right, Duncan,” she said calmly. “Why don’t you take that material over to Kane? I’ll finish up here.”

“Sure thing.” With another sideways glance at Neil, Dunk scooped a file from a nearby credenza and bolted for the door.

“Please tell me he’s only here because there’s a flu epidemic and everyone else is desperately ill,” Neil muttered.

“Duncan is highly qualified.”

“For what? The demolition derby? Oh, God, Dunk is Kane’s new executive assistant, isn’t he?”

Libby rolled her eyes. “Yes, he is. I recommended him and Kane agreed.”

Neil groaned. “Couldn’t you have chosen someone better…like Typhoid Mary? Honestly, your employee recommendations could use some help.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Except Libby did know, because a few weeks ago she had hand-picked the employee to replace Neil’s latest in a long string of secretaries. She’d had a lot of fun, too, watching him squirm over her selection. Not that it lasted, he’d quickly moved Margie Clarke into the position, instead.

“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about,” he snapped.