In Love With The Boss

She frowned. “I’d rather you call me ‘Sadie’ if that’s all right with you?”

“I think I can manage that, if you’ll call me Jordan.”

She thought about that. “I guess that’s okay, though I don’t think Mrs. Simpson would approve.”

“Mrs. Simpson?”

“The battle-ax who owns the Helping Hands Agency. You know, Helping Hands. You must have talked to her when you called.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t call. That was Amber. She’s...er...the boss’s secretary.”

“Oh.” She wasn’t going to say so, but it seemed to her that if the boss could afford a secretary, he could at least pay his employee enough for him to find a decent place to live instead of this damp, rundown old boathouse. Obviously draftsmen didn’t earn as much as she’d thought they did.

“I didn’t see any soap in here,” she said, watching the water rise steadily up the sides of the tub.

“There’s some in the kitchen.”

“I’ll get it. Don’t move until I get back.”

“I have no intention of moving,” he said grimly.

Sadie hurried back to the kitchen, wondering what on earth she’d do if he couldn’t get himself out of the tub. She wasn’t feeling nearly as confident as she’d like him to believe.

In spite of his shabby surroundings, Jordan Trent still managed to present a formidable front. She couldn’t help wondering just what tragedy had reduced such a seemingly powerful man to living apparently on the edge of poverty.

Perhaps he was paying out alimony and child support to an ex-wife, and that was why he couldn’t afford a decent place to live.

Deciding that was it, since he obviously didn’t have a wife to take care of him, Sadie found the soap and headed back to the bathroom. Jordan sat where she left him, watching the water gushing into the tub.

Sadie dropped the soap into the water and turned off the faucets. “Now,” she said, beginning to feel more than a little awkward, “you should be able to manage the rest by yourself.”

He uttered a grunt of derision. “I’ll yell if I get stuck. Just remember this was all your brilliant idea.”

Praying that she wouldn’t have to help him out of the tub, Sadie scrambled out of the bathroom and left him to it.

She spent the next several minutes pacing back and forth in the tiny bedroom, listening to the sounds of splashing from the bathroom and tensed to leap in there at the slightest sound of distress.

To her immense relief, when the summons came, Jordan was already out of the tub. Still looking far too pale, he sat once more on the toilet seat. With nothing but the towel wrapped around his waist, he still managed to intimidate her.

Tiny drops of water clung to the dark fuzz on his chest, Sadie noticed before she snatched her gaze away. “Are you all right? Can I get you anything?”

“Clothes would be nice.”

“Oh, of course. Where will I find them?”

“I keep a sweat suit and clean underwear in the chest where you found the towel.”

“I’ll get them. Do you have an electric razor?”

“In the kitchen.”

“I’ll get that, too.”

Glad for an excuse to leave, Sadie hurried back to the kitchen. She was fast discovering that all her years of administering to her brothers and sisters had not prepared her for this particular situation.

Being enclosed in a small space with her half-naked employer was a challenging experience. She only hoped she could carry this off with as much composure as he seemed to enjoy.

While he was getting shaved and dressed, she examined the contents of the refrigerator. There didn’t seem to be much else in there except eggs, bacon and a carton of milk.

The freezer, however, held several frozen dinners, a couple of packets of hamburger, frozen vegetables, and a large carton of ice cream. Sorting through the packages on the counter, Sadie found a box of spaghetti and a jar of pasta sauce.

At least she had the makings for a decent meal, she thought as she collected what she needed. The microwave, much to her surprise, actually worked. It looked so ancient she imagined it had to be one of the first ever made. She threw the hamburger in there to thaw it out, then went back to the bathroom to check on Jordan.

He was waiting for her in his usual spot on the toilet seat. Freshly shaved and with his hair neatly combed back, he looked a lot more presentable. In fact, now that she took the time to really notice, Jordan Trent’s dark good looks would rival any of those hunks in the TV commercials.

Even the black sweat suit couldn’t detract from the imposing air with which he greeted her. “I was beginning to think you’d quit.”

“I am not a quitter, Mr. Trent.”

“So I see. And I seem to remember that we agreed on a first name basis.”

She didn’t know why she was having such a hard time using his first name. His home was certainly unimpressive, and he wasn’t even paying her salary. She had no need to feel intimidated by him.

She got the crutches for him and helped him back to the couch. She knew by the way he sighed when he collapsed upon it that he must still be hurting. It would be another three hours before he could take more medication, she thought, glancing at her watch.

Jordan leaned back and closed his eyes. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I do feel better now that I’m smelling sweet and clean again.”

Aware that he was making light of the situation, Sadie studied him with apprehension. His face was still white and drawn with pain. “I’ll have a hot meal ready for you in a short while,” she said, hoping that would help. “Perhaps you could take a nap while you’re waiting.”

Jordan nodded. “Good idea,” he murmured, his tone suggesting he was already half asleep.

Sadie crept away to prepare the meal.

Jordan waited until he was sure she was out of sight before opening his eyes again. His new temp was turning out to be quite a bossy little lady, he thought, his mouth twisting wryly. He hadn’t been ordered around quite like that since he was in grade school.

If he were truly honest with himself, he was beginning to enjoy all the attention. Especially since there were apparently no hidden strings. It was quite obvious Sadie Milligan had no idea who he was, and it certainly wouldn’t hurt to let her go on thinking he was broke. That way, at least he could be certain she wouldn’t be getting any wild ideas about becoming the first Mrs. Trent.

He smiled, amused by the memory of her standing over him, arms crossed, with her dark eyes flashing and that quaint bobbed haircut making her look like a refugee from the 1920s. Most of the women he met hung on his every word, anticipated his every wish and fell over themselves to please him. Sadie Milligan’s militant, no-nonsense, take-charge attitude was a refreshing change.

Mind you, he warned himself, a little of that went a long way. Sooner or later he would have to make a stand and put her in her place. Right now, however, especially since he felt weakened and annoyingly dependent, it was rather nice to lie back and let someone else run things for a while.

He was dozing when his efficient temp woke him up, holding a plate of something that smelled like heaven.

“Spaghetti Bolognaise,” she announced as he struggled to sit up, blinking at the room which seemed to have become brighter while he slept. “Not too glamorous, I’m afraid, but the best I could do with what I could find. I don’t know what you’re doing with all those awful frozen dinners in the freezer. Apart from the fact they are utterly tasteless, there’s not enough food in them to feed a rabbit.”

Jordan was inclined to agree. Looking up at her disapproving face, he felt compelled to offer some defense. “Amber brought them over on her way to work this morning. She thought they’d be easier for me to manage.”

“A large pot of stew would have been even easier.”