Jill Shalvis: Who's the Boss? & Her Perfect Stranger: Who's The Boss? / Her Perfect Stranger

Caitlin’s head popped up when he shut the door behind him, and she craned her neck around from where she’d been pulling out more stacks of paperwork from beneath her desk.

Hard as it was to imagine, Joe had completely forgotten about his new secretary.

“Good morning,” she said in a sexy, cheerful voice that reminded him he still needed a cup of coffee.

Badly.

Tim and Andy leaped to their feet, faces red.

“Hey, Joe,” Andy said quickly, sticking his hands in his jean pockets. “How’d it go at the bank?”

“It wasn’t as exciting as it appears to have been here.” Joe lifted a brow as Caitlin stretched her lush, petite body as far as it would reach to get a file that had been shoved beneath the far corner of her desk.

Tim’s and Andy’s jaws dropped open at the sight, but Joe could hardly blame them. He couldn’t remember ever seeing a finer looking rear end.

And he’d seen his fair share.

But his quick surge of lust, coming on the heels of forgetting about his new secretary—whom he hadn’t wanted in the first place—only further annoyed him. Already half the morning was gone, and by the looks of things nothing had been accomplished except for a shifting of the mess from the front desk to the floor.

He sighed.

Hadn’t he known this would happen if he kept her?

And dammit, hadn’t he asked her to wear something to hide that body?

Women, like his work, received his full attention. But they were also simply a diversion—a pleasant one, but temporary nonetheless.

It had to be that way.

He’d grown up in emotional chaos. Painful emotional chaos. That’s what personal attachments did. Chopped up the heart and spit it back out. Brought nothing but the opportunity for hurt. With hurt came weakness, and he couldn’t allow that.

He relied on himself, and that was it. He’d been remarkably relationship free. By choice. And any entanglements he’d enjoyed had been short but sweet.

An involvement with a co-worker couldn’t be temporary, couldn’t be short and sweet and therefore couldn’t be contemplated. No matter how fine the…assets.

To prove it, he purposely turned his gaze away from the incredible sight before him.

Tim and Andy still stood there stupidly, gawking like teenagers. Joe opened his mouth to bark at them, but Vince appeared in the doorway, glasses on his nose, disk in hand.

“Guys,” Vince said sternly. “You came out here to check on Caitlin half an hour ago. What’s going on—” He broke off at the sight that had rendered both Tim and Andy and then Joe speechless. Carefully, he closed his mouth. Then he glanced at Joe, both amusement and irritation swimming in his gaze.

Joe jerked his head sharply, and Vince nodded. “Tim, Andy, let’s hit it.”

Joe sighed when they disappeared and wondered exactly how long it would be before the socialite decided she didn’t want to play at working anymore.

Hopefully very soon.

“Well, I beat you in,” Caitlin announced, obviously expecting a medal.

“You should,” he said, watching her wiggle up to her knees in the tightest, shortest, reddest skirt he’d ever seen. How had she gotten into that thing? “It’s ten o’clock. What the hell are you doing?”

“Filing.” She slapped her hands together to rid them of dust. “This place is a disaster. Don’t you ever clean?”

“No, and I knew where everything is…was,” he protested, trying not to panic.

“It’ll be better,” she promised him. “You’ll see.”

He doubted that and was about to tell her so but his phone rang. He watched, fascinated, as Caitlin stood and yanked down the short little jacket that matched her siren-red skirt before scooping up the receiver. “Hello?” Quickly, she covered the mouthpiece and batted her warm brown eyes at Joe. “Should I tell them this is CompuSoft?” she asked in a loud whisper. “Or is that redundant, do you think, since they called us and they most likely know who it is they dialed?” She bit her full, red bottom lip in indecision.

“Just find out who it is,” Joe suggested through his teeth. “That might be a good place to start.”

She nodded quite seriously and turned back to the phone. “Yes, who is this, please?” Her brow creased in concentration. Her hair settled around her flushed face. Then she lit up with the most dazzling smile Joe had ever seen. “Oh, isn’t that sweet of you,” she gushed. “I’m sure he’d love that, yes. Thanks so much.” She hung up the phone and dropped back to her knees amid the mess she’d created all over his floor.

Joe found himself once again staring at her very cute wriggling butt. “Caitlin.” His voice came out slightly strangled, and he had no idea if it were irritation or something more basic, such as his own software became hardware.

She stopped wriggling and smiled at him. “Yes, Mr. Brownley?”

He knew for a damn fact she was only eight years younger than him and she was calling him mister. “Joe.”

“Okay. Joe.” She turned back to whatever the hell it was she thought she was doing.

“Who was on the phone?” he demanded.

“Oh. AT&T.” She sent him that same dazzling smile, the one that did funny things to his knees. “They’re going to send you a one-hundred-dollar credit for switching to their service for a trial period of two weeks. Isn’t that sweet of them? Though you probably shouldn’t have left them in the first place. I understand from that nice operator I just spoke with they have the best prices in the country.”

Joe closed his eyes briefly and reminded himself that though he relied only on himself, rarely allowing another into his life, he had loved Edmund. He owed the man, and this woman—this crazy, out-of-control, messy woman—was his debt. “I’ll be in my office,” he managed to say finally.

She sent him a vague smile from where she was shuffling papers—his papers—around. “No problem.”

As he turned to go, he tripped over her pumps, again.

* * *

SHE COULD DO THIS, Caitlin told herself. No problem. She’d gone through most of her life figuring things out by herself. She’d dealt with the death of her mother all those years ago. She’d dealt with traveling alone, celebrating holidays alone, generally being completely alone.

She could certainly answer a few phones and straighten up an office, especially since she didn’t have much choice.

The bills had to be paid. She’d come home the night before to several messages from credit collectors.

They were getting nasty.

The phones had been blissfully quiet for a while. So had the men, though they were checking on her often, which brought a smile. They were so sweet.

Except for Joe. No one in their right mind would call that powerfully built thug, masquerading as a mild-mannered computer geek, sweet.

She headed down the hallway to the small lunchroom, which held a refrigerator, a microwave, a sink and counter and a small table with chairs.

She glanced at the coffee machine and grimaced. Empty, of course. It would never occur to whoever had taken the last cup to make more. Automatically, her hostess skills leaping to life, she made the coffee. Then, because the room was disgusting, she cleaned it. Maybe, she thought as she scrubbed, she’d been looking at this all wrong. She was an organizer, and these men certainly needed her.

Needed her.

The mere idea stopped her cold. And warmed her heart. No one had ever needed her before.

“How’s it going?”

Caitlin, her eyes still misty, smiled at Vince as he came in. “Good.” She finished with the sponge on the counter and started sweeping.

“Really?” He didn’t look convinced; he looked worried. “I should congratulate you. You made it past the dreaded two-hour mark without quitting.”