In Bed with the Boss

Chapter Two

The next day, Shelly claimed Verna’s desk for her own. She got to work at seven-thirty and set up the computer the way she liked it. She went through the desk drawers and rearranged them to her personal satisfaction.

Tom arrived at eight-fifteen. “First day flying solo, huh?” He wore a designer suit and a tie that matched his eyes and she thought he looked amazing.

“I’ve got Verna’s cell on auto-dial if I need her. Which I won’t.”

“Confidence. I like that.” He looked at her with admiration. She resisted the urge to smooth her hair. “Give me fifteen minutes and we’ll go over the calendar.”

“Will do.”

He disappeared into his office and she stared at the place he’d been, grinning like a fool.

Note to self: mind on the job, not on the boss.…

The day progressed without a single crisis—not on Shelly’s end, anyway. She put the final touches on the arrangements for Verna’s retirement party, which she’d managed to move up to tomorrow night after Verna had confided that her husband wanted to head for some RV park in Ohio on Sunday.

Tom spent most of his day putting out fires.

He had to call an emergency meeting about the San Francisco flagship site. The hotel was supposed to be opening in September and the interiors, according to the site manager there, were a disaster. The designer was not only over budget, but also behind schedule. Way behind schedule.

There was also some problem at the Kyoto site. The facility there was still under construction, and things had been moving right along until the past few weeks. And there were accounting issues, as well. Tom took another long meeting with his managers to discuss the situation.

Friday he told Shelly he would be going to San Francisco on Monday and then to Japan on Thursday. “You’ll probably have to move a few meetings around for me. Go over my appointments and make the calls. Push everything to the following week, if you can. We should have the day here in Chicago on Wednesday, so you can pack it with whatever can’t be put off till the week of the thirtieth. Let me know if there are issues.”

“Yes. Of course.”

He said, “And I’d like you with me for both trips.”

With him…

Somehow, Shelly managed not to jump up and down in her chair. This was the life. Jetting to the west coast. Zipping off to Japan…

She’d get packed over the weekend. It was going to be fabulous. She needed a decent suitcase. One of those new ones with four wheels. She’d pick one up Saturday morning. They couldn’t be that expensive, could they?

He asked, “Can you manage it?”

“It?” She blinked.

“Two trips in one week?”

“Uh. Yeah. I can. I’m with you. No biggie.” Max would still be in Mount Vernon next week. Childcare wouldn’t be a problem. Not this time.

“Got a passport?”

“Yes, I do. I took care of that on the day I got the job.”

“Good. What else? Everything under control for Verna’s party tonight?”

“Everything’s a go. I just got off the phone with the caterer. And I checked around the office to make certain they all knew we’d changed the date. From the responses I got, we should have a great turnout.”

They held Verna’s retirement party in a friendly little bar on a side street, a few blocks west of the office. Most of the women from HR were there, along with the lower-level executives from the finance department and several of the secretaries and assistants Verna had worked with in her twenty-two years at Hanson Media, then TAKA-Hanson.

Verna’s husband, Hank, came, too. And Tom, of course.

The beer flowed freely and the food was cafeteria-style, set out in chafing dishes on a long table. Customers grabbed a plate and helped themselves.

Verna got a Rolex to mark the occasion and Tom gave a little speech in her honor. And he offered a toast. “To Verna. We’ll miss you. Think about us now and then while you and Hank are out there seeing America.…” He raised his beer glass to his former assistant as Hank put his arm around her and kissed the top of her graying head. Everybody clapped and cheered.

From the stool she’d claimed down the bar, Shelly raised her glass high and joined in the toast, happy for Verna, even happier for herself.

Someone tapped her shoulder. She swiveled her chair around. “Hey, Lil.” Lillian Todd worked for one of the finance managers. She had sleek red hair and a killer body. She seemed to spend most of her time in the break room and making the rounds, chatting up all the secretaries, flirting with every guy in sight. Verna had confided in Shelly that it was lucky for Lil she was as smart as she was sexy. She spent so much time gossiping and making eyes at the men, she needed to be fast to get her work done, too.

“Doing all right on your own?” Lil had to shout to be heard over the rowdy crowd.

Shelly nodded, and shouted back, “So far, so good.” Lillian opened her mouth to say something else—but then she blinked and aimed her sexiest smile at a point past Shelly’s shoulder.

“Terrific party.” The male voice, deep and warm and threaded with humor, spoke in Shelly’s ear.

Tom. She turned to him—and tried not to get lost in those baby blues of his, tried not to sigh over the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, over the five-o’clock shadow on his manly jaw. His suit jacket, as usual, was nowhere in evidence. His tie was gone, too. He’d rolled his shirtsleeves the way he liked to do.

The strangest feeling washed through her. A mix of excitement—and tenderness.

Tenderness? For a man she’d known less than two weeks? That hardly seemed possible. Yet somehow, it was so.

The party seemed to get louder by the minute. She had to lean close or shout. She leaned. “Having fun?”

“You bet.”

Someone in the corner let out a whoop and everyone started laughing and clapping again. It simply wasn’t the kind of party where you could have an actual conversation.

So she nodded and sipped her beer and stared into those eyes of his. They actually twinkled. Funny. Until Tom, she’d thought that twinkling eyes were more a figure of speech than anything that occurred in nature.

He leaned toward her again. She met him halfway. He smelled of some subtle aftershave and soap. And man. All man.

“Hungry?” He set his empty glass on the bar.

She set hers beside it. He gestured toward the table with the food on it and she slid off her stool and started walking, aware with every step that he followed. They filled a couple of plates and went back to the bar.

Since it was such a chore to try to talk, they ate to the rowdy laughter of their coworkers and the occasional shouted good wishes directed at Verna and Hank.

Shelly had hired a DJ and the place had a postage stamp of a dance floor at one end. Hank gave the DJ a big tip and a list of favorite tunes. Then he pulled Verna onto the floor. They swayed to the music. A few other couples joined them. Not too many. There wasn’t that much room.

Shelly watched, feeling sentimental. Hank and Verna reminded her a little of her parents: married forever, still going strong.

Tom leaned close again. “Dance?”

She slanted him a look—wanting the dance, wondering if they were carrying this a little too far. For the umpteenth time, she reminded herself that the last thing she needed was an office romance.