“Where’s your car?”
“It’s gone,” she said as cheerfully as she could with a lump the size of a regulation football stuck in her throat.
She missed her Beemer!
“You take the bus in from the beach every day?” he asked incredulously. “That’s an awful commute, Caitlin.”
“It’s not so bad.” What was awful was the kind and sincere horror in his voice at what she had to go through to get to work. “But the bus never seems to come on time. They say seven-fifteen, but they don’t really mean it. Now I finally get the meaning—” she huffed as she worked her second sandal on “—when they say Californian time.”
Vince laughed as he gently supported her. “Don’t worry—I’ll tell Joe it was my fault.”
“Your fault,” she repeated. “How on earth could my tardiness be your fault—” She broke off as she realized exactly what Joe would think when Vince told him that.
Vince laughed again when she flushed and said, “Oh.”
“Come on,” he said, tugging her to the elevator. “It’ll be fun. He’s so entertaining when he’s furious.”
While Caitlin knew darn well Joe didn’t want her for himself, she instinctively knew how he would react if one of his techs wanted her. “Just yesterday, when Tim was going to program the clock to swear out loud on the hour, you reminded him how much pressure Joe was under right now.”
“So?”
“So why tease him now? He’s still under pressure. He might explode.”
Vince pushed the button for their floor and grinned down at her. “Yeah. Think how much fun this is going to be.”
“Vince—”
He pulled her into the elevator, but just as the door started to close, an elegant, leather-clad foot stopped it.
“Wait!” a female voice cried, and Vince pressed the open-door button.
Caitlin watched as the tall, willowy, incredibly beautiful woman stepped gracefully into the elevator and smiled familiarly at Vince. “Thanks, hon.” Her long limbs moved fluidly as she settled herself. Her ankle-length white sheath was striking against her dark skin.
Now, that’s a body, Caitlin thought enviously. All lean and toned—no extra curves there! She was just thinking how lovely the waist-length, heavy sable hair was when the woman turned to her…and frowned.
Caitlin recognized that frown, and its disapproval.
Joe gave it to her all the time. She stiffened in automatic response.
“This is Darla,” Vince told her. “She’s the accountant in the building. And Darla, this is Caitlin. Our secretary.”
Caitlin smiled, but it wasn’t her usual genuine, shining one because she felt suddenly drained.
“Are you enjoying the work?” Darla asked coolly.
“It’s interesting.”
Darla’s expression opened up a bit, surprised. “You mean, he’s letting you do something other than answer phones?”
Not that he knows, Caitlin thought. “Well…let’s just say we’re working on it.”
“Ah.” Darla’s mouth curved. “Well, at least you made it past the two-day mark. No one else has.”
“What a surprise that is.”
Darla did smile then, a genuine one. “I see you’re not enamored. That’s good. Maybe you have a shot at making it in that office before he eats you alive.”
“Enamored?” Because the thought was so ridiculous, Caitlin laughed.
“He’s not an easy man,” Darla agreed. “As you’ve obviously noticed.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“But he’s a good one.”
Yes. And also hard, tough, unforgiving and sexy as hell. “He’s a good man,” she agreed quietly, because it was the truth.
“You know…” Darla tipped her head to study Caitlin carefully. “You’re much more than Barbie meets Baywatch. I’ll have to tell Joe I was wrong about you.”
“Barbie meets—” Caitlin sputtered, whipped her head to glare at Vince when he burst out laughing at her expression.
The elevator stopped. Darla smiled, and this time it was warm and genuine. “Bye, Caitlin. Good luck today. Or maybe I should wish Joe good luck. I have a feeling he’s going to need it.”
Caitlin wished she’d left her tennis shoes on, because for the first time in her life she felt like running. She wanted to race directly to Joe and tell him what she thought of him and his accountant.
“Caitlin, wait,” Vince called out, trying to keep up with her as she made her way down the hallway.
“I don’t think so.” She kept going, driven by a need to give Joseph Brownley a piece of her mind. A big piece. A great big huge piece that would knock him flat on his far too gorgeous butt.
Unfortunately for Tim and Andy, they happened to be lurking around her desk when Caitlin stormed in. Twin smiles greeted her, only to die at the murderous expression on her face.
“What’s wrong?” Andy asked quickly.
Vince grimaced. “She just met Darla….”
“Tell me,” she said evenly, tossing her purse to the floor by her desk and placing her hands on her hips. She blew a strand of hair away from her face. “What did the other secretaries look like?”
In unison, the twins turned to Vince, confused. Vince sighed and shook his head.
“Oh, come on, guys,” she encouraged. “Think. You remember, the ones who quit?” Her voice held a poisonous mixture of sweet smile and deadly tone. “Were they…pretty?”
“Not like you,” Andy said loyally, and Tim shook his head vigorously.
“Darla didn’t mean it,” Vince said quietly to her, touching her arm, his eyes deep with concern and regret.
“No? But I’ll bet Joe did.” She dragged in a deep breath, stunned to find herself so upset.
“Caitlin, what’s the matter?” Andy asked. “What didn’t Darla mean?”
All three of them were looking at her in concern. Not one of them was on the verge of laughter. They really cared, Caitlin realized with a burst of surprise and warmth. They cared that she was upset, and they didn’t find it funny. It went a long way toward soothing her. “Nothing,” she said, forcing a smile. “It wasn’t important.”
“It was if it hurt you.” Tim came closer, peering into her face. “Darla’s really pretty great, but she does like a good joke. What did she say?”
Caitlin dropped her gaze from his, feeling a little silly. “Something about Barbie meets Baywatch,” she muttered.
His eyes widened. He bit his lip, which Caitlin would have sworn was so he couldn’t laugh. Next to her, Andy made a suspicious noise, something like a strangled hyena. In a Joe-like move, Vince closed his eyes.
“Oh, stop it,” she said, biting back her own smile. “It really wasn’t so funny a minute ago.”
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