In Love With The Boss

He studied her a moment longer, making her feel extremely self-conscious. Judging from the amount of bare chest she could see behind the gaping folds of his robe, it appeared that Mr. Trent had not yet dressed for the day.

He certainly hadn’t shaved, since a dark stubble covered his chin, and his thick, black hair tumbled in an unruly mess over his forehead. She wondered if he could shower with a cast on his foot. Probably not. He would have to use the tub.

“How are you at rubbing backs?” he demanded, startling her out of her thoughts. Before she could answer, however, his expression suddenly changed, becoming mournful. “I can’t find my damn painkillers.” He waved the bottle at her, sloshing the contents violently around in it. “Been drinking brandy to kill the pain.”

“So I can see.” Deciding to take the initiative, Sadie stepped forward and took the bottle out of his unresisting hand. It wouldn’t hurt to lay down some ground rules, she thought. “It’s very bad for you to be drinking on an empty stomach,” she announced, remembering the scorched eggs.

Jordan Trent nodded his agreement. “Very bad to be in pain, too. Damn bad, as a matter of fact. I just wish I could find my pills.”

“I’ll find them for you. Where’s the bathroom?”

“Over there.” Her client waved an arm vaguely in the direction of a door on the other side of the room. “Through the bedroom.”

Deciding to get rid of the brandy first, Sadie took the bottle out into the kitchen and found a spot on the counter for it.

“You’re going the wrong way!” Jordan Trent bellowed.

Sadie winced. Returning to the living room, she fixed the invalid with a baleful glare. “I’m not deaf, Mr. Trent. I was simply putting the brandy away. When you address me in future, I’d appreciate it if you’d do so in a reasonable tone of voice.”

He blinked, then leaned unsteadily forward, squinting his eyes at her. “You know, you’re a damn good-looking woman.”

That settled it, Sadie thought. The man was definitely drunk. She had no illusions whatsoever about her looks. Her nose was too big, and her eyes, a nondescript brown, did nothing for her pale complexion.

As for her dark brown hair, no matter what miracle products she was tempted to use she could manage nothing better than a limp, lifeless chin-length bob. The one time she’d attempted a perm she’d spent six miserable months waiting for the frizz to grow out.

Even if she’d been able to ignore her brothers’ teasing about being the ugly duckling in a family of beauties, her mirror revealed the inescapable truth. Sadie Milligan was plain, a little overweight and would always walk in her glamorous sisters’ shadows.

Nevertheless, she blushed at Jordan Trent’s compliment. She didn’t get that many. “Thank you,” she murmured, doing her best to avoid looking at the gaping opening in his robe.

“Too bad you have such a prissy voice. What are you, a schoolteacher?”

Sadie’s cheeks burned. “My name is Sadie Milligan, and I am the temp you requested, here to assist you with your office work.”

“Well—” He tipped forward and almost fell off the couch.

Sadie took an involuntary step forward, but he managed to check his downward momentum and struggled to an upright position again.

With an obvious effort at maintaining some dignity, he said carefully, “Well, Sadie Milligan, I suggest you lose that schoolmarm dis... dis... disposition....” He stopped, frowning in a bewildered way. “What was I going to say?”

Sadie tightened her mouth. “I’ll look for your painkillers. Please don’t move until I get back. I don’t think I could lift you back onto that couch if you fell off it.”

Jordan Trent stared at her, then burst into a fit of uproarious laughter. “That’s rich,” he spluttered as she picked her way through the debris of books, papers and files that littered the floor. “‘Don’t move,’ she says. I wish to hell I could move.”

Ignoring him, Sadie opened the door and peered inside. A double bed, covered partway by a colorful, rumpled patchwork quilt, took up most of the room. The window, draped in matching fabric, looked out across the mist-enshrouded river to the opposite shore. Clothes lay scattered all over the tumbled sheets.

Apparently Mr. Trent managed to get himself in and out of bed, Sadie reflected as she edged past the foot to what she assumed was the door to the bathroom. Upon opening it, however, she was in doubt as to whether anyone could call the space inside an actual room. It was more like a broom cupboard with a tub, sink and toilet jammed together inside.

A pile of clothes topped with a pair of boots covered most of the floor space. Sadie shook her head. How anyone managed to live in such messy, confined surroundings she had no idea. She was fast losing her fantasies about owning a houseboat.

A loud bellow from the living room made her jump. Hastily she looked around the minuscule bathroom. The medicine cabinet had a cracked mirror, and two narrow glass shelves, both of which were empty. There were no pill bottles lying on the sink, or on the toilet tank, and there was nowhere else to hide them.

Sadie bent over and started picking up clothes. They felt damp to the touch, and she dropped them into the grimy tub with a shudder. Underneath a pair of jeans, she discovered the bottle of prescribed painkillers.

At least she’d found them, she thought as she closed the door on the bathroom. The problem was, she probably shouldn’t give the medication to the patient—not with all that booze in him. He’d just have to wait a few hours. She wasn’t looking forward to explaining that to him.

A loud snore greeted her as she walked back into the living room. Her client still sat where she’d left him, except now his chin was resting on his chest, and he was tipped forward at an alarming angle.

Hurrying forward, Sadie decided that sleep would be the best thing for him, until the effects of the alcohol wore off. If she could just get him into a more comfortable position, he might stay that way for an hour or two, and give her time to clean up the deplorable mess around the house.

Mrs. Simpson’s explicit instructions echoed in her mind. Ignoring the little voice that warned her she was breaking all the rules, Sadie took hold of Jordan Trent’s broad shoulders and eased him sideways until his head lay flat on the seat.

Now that he was sleeping, she couldn’t help noticing that her new employer was a good-looking man. Thin straight nose, angular jaw, and what she liked to call a poetic mouth—sensitive and sensual. Embarrassed by her unexpected appraisal, she turned her attention back to the task at hand.

Gingerly, she lifted the bandaged foot and propped it over the arm of the couch. Then, taking care to keep his lap covered with the blanket, she pulled his other leg up to join the injured one, rolling him onto his back. So far, so good. Except he looked kind of scrunched up in the middle, and his head needed to be raised.

Reaching behind the sleeping man, she tugged at the cushions jammed behind his back. She let out a startled shriek when without warning he clamped his arms around her back and pulled her down on top of him.

“Cold,” he mumbled. “Come down here and keep me warm.”

“Mr. Trent!” Sadie’s attempt at sounding outraged was embarrassingly muffled by his bare chest pressing against her face. A soft dark fuzz tickled her nose as she struggled to free herself from the tight embrace.

Mindful of his injured foot, she pried his arms open and wriggled out of his hold. Glaring down at him, she said stiffly, “I’ll get the comforter from the bed.”

His only answer was to drop one eyelid in a roguish wink.

Feeling more than a little flustered, Sadie marched into the bedroom, dragged the quilt off the bed and carried it back to the couch. Jordan Trent, judging by the closed eyes and loud snoring, appeared to be fast asleep this time.

Even so, she kept a wary eye on him while she tucked the comforter around his body. He didn’t move, and after a moment’s hesitation, she rested the back of her hand against his forehead. His skin felt cool and dry.

Satisfied, she left him sleeping and went back into the kitchen to tackle the cluttered mess in there.

An hour later she had the counters cleared, the dishes washed and stacked, and the floor picked up and wiped over as best she could with the frayed string mop she’d found propped up outside on the veranda.

The only source of heat she could find was a small electric fan heater, which turned out to be quite effective in the cramped confines of the living room. In fact, she opened the door to the bedroom and the bathroom while she worked in there, and by the time she had restored some order to the house, the whole place felt quite toasty.

Sneaking back into the living room, she peeked at the man still asleep on the couch, then began the task of picking up all the files and papers from the floor. A pair of crutches lay behind the couch. She picked them up and propped them against the wall within reach of the injured man.

After a few minutes she unearthed an expensive laptop computer from under a pile of blueprints. Obviously on loan from Jordan Trent’s office, she assumed. Casting a reproachful glance at her client, she wondered what his boss would say if he knew that an expensive piece of office equipment had been thrown on the floor and could easily have been stepped on.

She was disconcerted, to say the least, to discover Jordan Trent’s ice-blue eyes open and watching her with mild curiosity.

“Am I still dreaming,” he asked pleasantly, “or did some kind friend arrange for an angel of mercy to visit me?”

Clutching the computer to her chest, Sadie scrambled to her feet. “I hope you’re feeling better, Mr. Trent.”

“Jordan. And thank you for your concern. Apart from a dull hammering in my head and an agonizing burning sensation in my ankle, I imagine I’ll live. Now, who are you?”

Sadie put the computer down on the corner of the only table in the room. “Sadie Milligan. I’m the temp you hired. I did introduce myself earlier, but you were...not feeling very well. You probably don’t remember.”