IN LOVE WITH HER BOSS Read online

  She pretended the heat on her cheeks was from the cold night air, not her embarrassment. "I'm sorry. It's just that I'm in a new place … it's unfamiliar—"

  "Don't apologize," he said shortly. "I should have thought of it myself."

  It wasn't his fault. "It's me. The dark parking lot…"

  "I'm going to get one of the men to install a light out there tomorrow," he said.

  Halting on the brick walkway, she turned to him. "Oh, no—"

  "Lori." In the darkness, his body was a massive shadow, but his voice was gentle. "It's done. But to ease your mind even more, remember this isn't the big city. You're in Whitehorn now."

  "Yes." Looking up, she took a deep breath of the clean, icy air. Whitehorn, Montana. "The stars seem so clear, so close here," she said. "It's as if someone polished the sky."

  "Someone did," he answered lightly. "We like things to look their best when Southern girls arrive."

  She laughed. "Well, I'm impressed. I didn't expect it to be quite so beautiful." With a hand, she gestured toward the building they'd exited. "I didn't expect a construction company office to look like an old schoolhouse either."

  Josh started toward the parking lot again. "It is an old schoolhouse. Miss Lilah Anderson's schoolhouse, as a matter of fact. Dad and I rescued it a few years ago.

  "Lilah Anderson? A relation?"

  "Yep. An aunt. I forget how many greats," Josh answered. "My sister Dana knows, though, she's the genealogist in the family."

  "Your roots go deep in Whitehorn, then." Lori had roots here too, roots that she wanted to reconnect to. Roots that she hoped would help her build a new life. "It must be nice."

  "Are you rootless, Lori?"

  She figured he was thinking of her résumé and the many jobs she'd had and cities she'd lived in over the past years. But she didn't want to go into that. "I don't have a big family like you do," she said instead. "My mother died when I was twenty-three, after a long illness. We were … alone in the world."

  And how alone she'd felt during her mother's illness. So alone that she'd made a mistake she'd been paying for every day since.

  They reached her car. Though Lori had her keys in her hand, Josh leaned against the driver's-side door, blocking her way. Goodness. His shoulders had to be twice the size of the average man's.

  "You make me realize I shouldn't take so much for granted," he said. "My family's always been there for me. And the business was always there for me, too."

  Lori dipped her bands in the pocket of her coat. "So you always wanted the business? You always wanted to build things?" She could see him, she thought, a tall gangly kid following his father around with a hammer and a hundred questions.

  His grin sliced whitely through the darkness. "I wanted to be a cowboy until I was nine years old and I fell off my friend's horse and onto my keister. Then good ol' Smokey stomped all over my hand. Couldn't sit down or make a fist for a week."

  "Poor baby." Lori shook her head, amused by the picture he painted. "Though you're ruining Montana's image for me. I thought all western men were horsemen."

  "Yeah," he said dryly. "Just like we all smoke Marlboros and drag our Christmas trees behind sleighs through snowy fields."

  "Wearing ten-gallon hats," she added.

  "And sheepskin jackets."

  She couldn't help but smile. "You don't have a sheepskin jacket? I think I'm going to cry."

  "I'll get one tomorrow," he said promptly. "Just so you won't."

  The teasing note in his voice made her nervous again. "Well…" she started.

  "Well?"

  "I guess it's time for me to take myself and my fractured preconceptions home." She drew her hand and her car keys from her pocket.

  He moved away from the door so she could unlock it. "It's not that I don't like horses, Lori. Just that I like them best when they're standing and I'm standing too."

  When she opened the door, the car's overhead light pooled on Josh's heavy construction boots but didn't come close to illuminating his face, somewhere above her. "You seem to have bad luck with things falling on you," she said, daring to tease a little about their meeting in the gym.

  "I wouldn't say it's bad luck at all."

  With just those words, her pulse quickened again. She looked up at him, then swallowed, because he was so big and because there was that current running between them, that hot, tingly current she'd worked so hard to ignore all day. She had no business feeling this. For Josh, or for any man. It was too easy for her to become dependent on one. The wrong one.

  "Josh." She meant to say the word as a warning, but instead it came out uncertain.

  "Lori." He took a step closer, and she automatically shrank against the car. He froze. He muttered to himself. He turned away from her. "Good night."

  "Good night."

  But before she had the door shut, he turned back. "Lori."

  "Yes?"

  His face was still in shadow, but it didn't take night vision for her to know he was battling himself. "Are you … is there…" He broke off, muttering again.

  "What do you want, Josh?"

  His voice was rueful. "For the moment, the answer to a question."

  "Yes?"

  He sighed. "Did you come to Whitehorn to be with someone?"

  To be with a man, he meant. "No, Josh." Lori almost laughed. "Good night." Shutting the car door, she wondered what he'd think if she told him she'd come to Whitehorn for precisely the opposite reason. She was here to get away from someone.

  To get away from a man.

  * * *

  Chapter 3

  « ^ »

  Before work a few mornings later, Josh sat on a weight bench at the gym, pushing himself through another set of bicep curls. Sweat ran down his neck and glistened on his arms. He worked his muscles to the failure point, knowing that he wouldn't make it through the day without burning off some of his restless energy.

  Dealing with Lori Hanson wasn't getting any easier. She continued to be a distracting, enigmatic presence in his office. He still didn't know if he had his signals crossed or if she sent out hot and cold messages on purpose.

  Though he'd been spending a lot of time out of the office, he still made it back by five o'clock every day to walk her to her car. As he'd promised, the parking lot was brightly lit now, but he felt better seeing her off himself.

  Someone dropped to the bench beside him. Josh kept pumping the weights, thinking about how Lori had looked beneath the new light the night before, her nose pinking with the cold, her dark hair curling against her cheek. He'd had to hold himself back from placing his palm there. Worse, he'd yet to shake the feeling that part of her wanted him to do that very thing.

  "Hell, Josh," said a familiar voice. "I said 'good morning' and I've been sitting here for five minutes waiting for a response, but you haven't done anything but grunt and sweat."

  Jerked from his reverie, Josh turned his head. "Oh. Andy. Hey." He'd known Andy McKenna for a dozen years.

  Andy picked up a couple of nearby dumbbells and started his own set of curls. "What's eating you?"

  Josh let his weights slip to the floor. His arm muscles burned. "The usual."

  Andy looked over. "A work problem?"

  "Woman problem."

  Thud-thud. Andy's weights dropped. So did his jaw. "You're kidding, right?"

  "Why would you say that?" Josh asked.

  "Because, buddy, you haven't let yourself have a woman problem, not once, in the last five years."

  Since Kay's death, Andy meant. Josh shifted on the bench, stretching out his legs to inspect the laces of his cross-trainers. It was true. He hadn't felt the need for anything more than the most casual relationships with women since then. Nothing heavy enough to be classified a problem. He grunted. "I have one now."

  "Well, hallelujah," Andy said. "Good ol' Josh has a woman problem."

  Josh shot the other man a look. "Gee, thanks."

  He grinned. "Misery loves company and all that. So tell D
ear Andy the problem. Is the lady married? Does she have a boyfriend?"

  "No." As he'd walked her to her car that first night, Josh had wondered that himself. But she'd said she hadn't come to Whitehorn to be with a man. He ran a hand over his damp hair. "Andy, you know when a woman's interested, right?"

  "Hmm." The other man reached for the dumbbells he'd dropped. "Well, I've made my share of blunders over the years, but I'd say that now I'm pretty good at distinguishing between a smile and a, well, smile."

  "And how old are you?" Josh asked.

  "Thirty-five."

  Younger than Josh, which meant he couldn't rule out that pre-midlife crisis condition.

  "Geez, Josh." Andy stopped lifting again. "You look serious. What the hell's the matter?"

  Josh shook his head. "I—"

  Andy's low whistle interrupted him. "Wow. Would you look at that." With his chin, he gestured toward the glass wall in front of them, the wall through which they could see the basketball courts and the running track surrounding them.

  A woman was stretching in the far lane of one curve. "That," said Josh. "Is precisely my problem. Lori Hanson, my temporary receptionist."

  "Oh, buddy." Andy gazed on him with pity. "I don't blame you. She looks like trouble." He switched his gaze back to the track, where Lori was now starting her run. "Uh-oh. Wouldn't you know it, Wily Rick Weber is on the scent."

  Ahead of Lori on the track, a lean, curly-haired man paused and bent over, as if his shoe needed retying. It was only too obvious to Josh that the other runner had noticed Lori and was waiting for her to catch up to him.

  Andy snorted. "Is be always the first to sniff out new prey, or what?"

  Josh lifted the hem of his T-shirt to wipe the sweat out of his eyes, then leaned forward. How would Lori respond to the ever-charming Wily Rick?

  She didn't.

  Even though Rick timed it so that he started jogging again just as Lori reached him, even though he smiled whitely, oozing friendliness that Josh could feel even through the plate glass, Lori didn't even glance at the other man. As a matter of fact, she picked up her pace, causing Wily to have to leap forward in order to keep up with her.

  His mouth moved. Probably saying something witty, Josh thought. Something far more interesting than "Ms. Hanson, find me the Feeney file, please." But she responded to Rick with even fewer syllables and less animation that she did when Josh spoke.

  Surprise crossed Rick's oh-so-slick and handsome face, and he slowed a bit, letting Lori get ahead. Strike one for Wily.

  "Well," Andy said. "Rick hasn't bowled her over."

  "Neither have I," Josh muttered.

  And just like Josh himself, Rick didn't find it easy to give up on Lori either. As Josh watched, the other man caught up with her again and tried to start another conversation. Her slight grimace made clear, to Josh anyway, that she didn't appreciate Wily's second attempt.

  Josh stood up. "I'm going to take a few laps myself," he told Andy.

  The other man's grin was knowing. "You do that. But be careful. I haven't seen you chasing – I mean running – in a long time, old friend."

  Josh didn't look back. He wasn't chasing. He was going after Lori to make sure Wily wasn't annoying her, not because of the apparently one-sided attraction he had for her. That attraction he was determined to put a lid on, because it would be hell on his brain and his business if it was allowed to simmer unchecked for the remainder of Lucy's maternity leave.

  Just as Josh jogged onto the track, Wily jogged off, a look of baffled disappointment on his face. He didn't even acknowledge Josh's two-fingered salute. It wasn't often Rick struck out, and it looked as if it was going to take him some time to recover.

  Josh was smiling when he caught up with Lori. He brushed off the niggling notion that his entire reason for joining her was now heading for the men's showers. "Good morning," he said.

  She looked over at him, her eyes widening, then she trained her gaze back on the track in front of her. "Good morning, Mr. Anderson."

  "Josh."

  She made another of those maddening, absent hmms that she liked to torture him with.

  "Well. How are you this morning?"

  "Fine." She didn't look at him.

  "I, um, thought I'd let you know that I'm stopping off at the Feeney site before I come into the office this morning."

  "All right."

  When he thought about it, maybe he should still bring up Rick and his attempts at flirtation. He hesitated, then plunged in, unable to come up with some way to ease into the subject. "I saw Rick talking to you," he said.

  "Who?"

  "Wil – Rick Weber. The curly-haired guy who was running with you."

  "Oh. Him."

  The little breeze they generated running caused her peach scent to waft enticingly over Josh's face. He tried not breathing through his nose. "He's okay, but he has a reputation for two-timing."

  Now she looked at him, her expression bewildered. "Why would you tell me that?"

  So I could feel my feet grow five sizes larger, Josh thought. But he went on doggedly. "I just thought you should know because … I, well… Well, he was hitting on you."

  "I'm not interested in him."

  "Good." She shot him a look, and he hoped he didn't look as satisfied as he felt. To cover it up, he cleared his throat and then forced himself to test the waters again. "But just in case you are interested in dating, I do know a few good men I could introduce you to."

  Did he imagine it, or was her face turning a shade of red that bespoke embarrassment, not exertion?

  "I didn't come to Whitehorn to meet men."

  "I didn't say that you did," Josh answered, plodding on with his offer. "But you're a young woman. Certainly you'd like a social life. I have friends who—"

  She shook her head. "Please, Josh. I don't want to meet anybody. Please."

  The tone in her voice was urgent. Anxious.

  Despite her discomfort, he had to admit he felt that satisfaction again. "Okay. Sure. No problem," he answered.

  "Josh." She abruptly stopped running and he skidded to a halt beside her.

  "What?" he asked.

  Her chest moved up and down, her breaths still coming fast. Josh tried not to stare, focusing instead on her dark eyelashes that hid the expression in her eyes.

  "I'd even be grateful," she said, "if you'd … pass the word around the gym."

  Josh blinked at her. "Pass what word?"

  Her shoulders hunched in an embarrassed sort of shrug. "I've … sworn off men for the moment, okay? I'm not eager to meet any, date any, become entangled with any." She darted one swift look at him. "With anyone, no matter how … appealing."

  With him, she meant.

  Then she dashed off in the direction of the women's locker room, leaving Josh staring after her. Well, he thought. Finally, there was his answer. It wasn't mixed signals. It wasn't him misreading. It wasn't that she didn't feel the same attraction he did – she'd even implied she found him appealing. But the fact was, she'd sworn off men.

  He could understand that. Appreciate it. Abide by it. For God's sake, he hadn't paid any but the most cursory attention to his own social life in the last five years.

  And why she'd sworn off men was none of his business either.

  Josh showered and dressed quickly, telling himself he was glad to have the Lori problem straightened out. It meant he could refocus his attention on business. That he could smother the attraction he felt for her because she wanted to smother it too.

  He even managed a cheerful goodbye to the kid who manned the check-in desk as he left. Even when he encountered Lori at the door leading outside, his lightened mood didn't change. Much.

  He smiled at her as he held open the door. "I'll be in around ten. You can get me on my cell phone, though."

  "The Feeney site," she replied, stepping onto the concrete sidewalk, her gym bag in one hand.

  The morning had grown colder in the hour he'd been working out. Lori's seco
nd step found a patch of ice that had been a shallow puddle sixty minutes before. The sole of her shoe lost purchase, and Josh saw her heel slide out from under her.

  Her free arm windmilled.

  Without a second thought, a first, any thought at all, he reached out, sliding his arm around her waist. With a jerk, he swept her upright and against him.

  She screamed.

  Startled, Josh's arm tightened. It wasn't a shriek of surprise, or an I'm-about-to-fall squeal. It was—

  She screamed again, fighting wildly against his arm.

  Startled again, he let her go.

  She whirled to face him, her face white, her eyes huge pools of blue fear.

  Fear.

  He remembered her reaction when he bumped into her on the running track Christmas Eve. He remembered her shrinking back against her car when he'd stepped close to her in the parking lot.

  Her free hand lifted. "I'm sorry," she said hoarsely. "I'm sorry. I was…"

  "Scared?" he supplied.

  Color rushed up from the collar of her coat to redden her cheeks. At least she didn't look like she was seeing a ghost anymore. "Yes. But thanks for not letting me fall."

  "Anytime," Josh replied. He wasn't surprised when she hurried away from him, in the direction of her car. "Anytime," he said again, staring after her retreating figure.

  Of course, the next time he probably would let Lori fall. Because he couldn't bear to frighten her again. And touching would. Getting close to her would. He was certain of that.

  Because there was a terrible, sick feeling in his gut that told him exactly why Lori Hanson had sworn off men.

  * * *

  Lori bustled around the Anderson, Inc., office, grateful that Josh was stopping by the Feeney site before coming in. She needed the opportunity to recover her composure. She needed time to convince herself that right this minute Josh wasn't booking his skittish temporary receptionist a rubber room.

  She needed to believe he wasn't aware that a man's touch – any man's touch – made her jump as if she'd been recently beaten.

  Because that wasn't the case. Her ex-husband hadn't hit her in over two years.

  Lori closed her eyes against those memories, thinking instead of Josh. As he'd saved her from falling, his big body had been warm against hers. He'd smelled of soap and cold Montana air. And though her heart had been pounding with its old, instinctive panic, there had been another feeling running counter to the fear. Feelings.