Joan Hohl - Beguiling the Boss

She rose from the comfy chair and walked to the kitchen to rinse her cup. It was time to put clean sheets on the bed, have a shower and hit the sack. Breakfast for my steely-eyed boss at six-thirty , she reminded herself.

Jen had a full breakfast of bacon, eggs, hash browns, toast and fresh coffee ready when Marsh strode into the kitchen at precisely six-thirty the next morning. Unlike most CEOs going to work, he was dressed in faded jeans, a chambray shirt and well-worn running shoes.

He looked terrific.

“Good morning,” she greeted him cheerily, dishing up the meal onto two plates.

“Urmph,” he responded as he seated himself at the solid-oak table.

Jen stifled a smile and placed his breakfast in front of him, then put her plate on a tray and started to head upstairs.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his forkful of eggs in midair between his plate and his mouth.

Gritting her teeth at his imperious tone, while reminding herself that this grouchy man was her employer, Jen managed to dredge up a pleasant reply. “I’m going upstairs.”

He motioned at the chair opposite. “Have a seat. There are a few things I want to go over with you.”

Offloading her food from the tray to the table, Jen sat and patiently watched him enjoying her culinary efforts.

“Eat,” he said, snapping off a bite of crisp bacon with his strong white teeth. “We can talk over coffee.”

They ate the meal in dead silence. Jen was tempted to speak, but she squashed the urge, determined to make him start the conversation.

As soon as he sat back and laid his napkin beside his plate, Jen was on her feet, clearing. Deliberately making him wait, she stashed the dishes in the dishwasher before pouring the coffee and then sitting down again. Wrapping her hands around the mug, she looked directly into his eyes, and was startled to find herself fascinated by the odd silvery color. She again felt that funny tingling sensation inside, deep inside, and again she didn’t like it. The feeling was too … too out of her control. She quickly looked away.

“I’ll be leaving later this morning,” he said. “I have a few business appointments. You’ll have the place to yourself for the entire weekend as I won’t be back until Monday.”

A strange relief washed through her at the thought that she wouldn’t have to see Marsh for a few days. It was mixed with a sense of disappointment that she chose to ignore. “Great,” she said. “It’ll give me plenty of time to get settled in.”

“You have no reason to be concerned about being alone here. I have—”

Jen frowned, interrupting. “Actually, I like being alone.”

Marsh leveled a cool look at her; apparently he didn’t appreciate being interrupted. “Any woman should be afraid of being alone on a property this size,” he growled. “I’m a wealthy man. That, plus the size of the place, makes it a target. In addition to a man who takes care of the horses, I have security all over the grounds.”

“I didn’t notice any security when I drove up,” she said, taking a sip of the coffee.

He gave her a wry look. “That’s the idea—you’re not supposed to notice them. But trust me, they were there, and I was notified of your arrival.”

“You have horses?” she asked, ignoring his tone.

“Yes, I have horses.”

When he didn’t add anything further, she asked, “What about the office work?”

“That can wait until Monday. I brought everything up to date before you arrived.” He lifted a hand to a breast pocket and withdrew a white bank envelope and a small black leather case. “That should be enough cash to purchase whatever you need,” he said. “The case is an alarm. If you hear or see anything that doesn’t seem right to you, press the button. There will be security here in minutes. It will also open the garage. I’m going to pull the truck out so you can park your car.”

Sighing, she reluctantly took the case.

He frowned at her. “Keep it with you at all times. And that’s an order.”

“Yes, sir.”

His eyes narrowed. “Oh, and I also listed a few of my favorite meals … as you asked,” he added in a dry-as-dust tone.

“Thank you.” Jen pushed back her chair and stood. “If you’ll excuse me now, I’m going up to clean the apartment … unless you have other instructions for me?” She raised her brows.

He nodded his head, also standing. “There is one more thing.” He sent a slow glance around the room. “You did a good job on the kitchen. It’s spotless.”

A tiny smile played at the corners of her mouth. “Not quite,” she said. “The curtains need laundering.”

For a moment Marsh simply stared at her, then, with a shake of his head, he started for the hallway. “I’ll see you sometime Monday.” With that he strode from the room.

Jen watched him go, wondering just what kind of power struggle she had gotten herself into with Marsh Grainger.

She spent the rest of the day giving the apartment a thorough cleaning. By the time she looked up, it was time for supper. Yet as busy as she was, there were moments—too many, to Jen’s way of thinking—when thoughts of Marsh pushed past her guard to tease her imagination.

Jen didn’t appreciate his intrusion. He was her employer. Period. Nothing more. Who was he, really, other than a tough and bitter man? In all truth, he had a right to his bitterness, but it was none of her concern.

Still, the thoughts persisted. Why? In a word, Marshall Grainger was all male. A ruggedly handsome, sexy-as-hell male at that.

Startled by her last thought, Jen gave herself a mental shake. Get it together, woman , she told herself. Marsh may be all those things, but he uses women, and you don’t want any part of that .

Forget him and get back to work .

When she had finished cleaning, Jen took a long, soothing shower, slipped into a nightshirt, then sat down with her laptop to contact her friends. Naturally there were emails from every one of them, demanding more information. She sent them a group email back, saying she had gotten a new job and would get back to them later, after she had settled into the position and had more complete information to offer.

The fact of the matter was, Jen was not quite ready to tell her friends what had happened to send her running from her home. Nor was she ready to tell them that she was living under Marsh Grainger’s roof. Tired, muscles aching from the unusual flurry of physical activity, Jen was then content to drop into bed early. With any luck, she’d fall asleep quickly before she had time for more thoughts of Marshall Grainger.

Saturday morning Jen woke refreshed if still a bit achy, proof of the fact that she had been idle too long. She had stayed in shape playing tennis and horseback riding whenever she could, but while musing on her future options during the past several weeks she had barely left her apartment. The cleaning exercise had done her good.

She dressed in designer jeans, a pin-tucked white shirt and flat-heeled boots. Deciding to grab breakfast in town, she left the house for her shopping spree.

She looked inside the envelope Marsh had given her. Along with the short list of his favorite meals and directions to the nearest mall, Marsh had left her a ridiculous amount of money. Jen rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face.

Either Marsh Grainger had no idea what things actually cost, or he was an extremely generous man underneath that gruff exterior.

It was a lovely, warm autumn day, perfect for shopping. As she headed down the driveway, Jen kept an eye out for signs of the security he had told her about. She didn’t see hide nor hair until she neared the stone pillars flanking the entranceway. A short distance off the road, barely visible, an all-terrain vehicle was parked next to a low hanging tree. As she drove through the entranceway, she thrust her arm out the window and waved as she hit the horn. She laughed as she received a wave and toot in return.