Beauty And Her Boss

“But what if I have papers for you to sign? Or mail. I’m assuming that I’ll be receiving your business correspondence.”

“You will. And if you check next to the interior door, there is a mail slot. Drop whatever correspondence needs my attention in there and I’ll get to it.”

“But that doesn’t seem very efficient. I don’t mind bringing it to you—”

“No!” His voice vibrated with emotion. He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. He didn’t want to have to explain himself. After all, he was the boss. In a calmer voice, he said, “This is the arrangement. If you don’t like it, you are free to leave. Our deal will be null and void.”

“And my father?”

“He will face the judge and pay for the trouble he caused.”

“No. I can do this.” Her words were right, but her voice lacked conviction.

In all honesty, if she quit, he didn’t know what he’d do for help. The temp agencies had blacklisted him after he’d gone through a dozen temps in the past couple of months. But he’d make do, one way or the other. He always had in the past. “You’re sure?”

“I am.”

“Then I will let you review the document that I’ve emailed you. It should explain everything including the fact that I work late into the night, but I don’t expect you to. However, I will have work waiting for you each morning.” When sleep evaded him, he found it best to keep his mind busy. It kept the frustration and worries of the unknown at bay.

“Does anyone else work in the office?” she asked.

“No.”

She didn’t immediately respond.

He hadn’t considered that she wouldn’t like working alone. It had been one of his requirements through the temp agencies, but Gabrielle hadn’t given him time to get in to specifics when they’d spoken on the phone. Maybe this was his way out—even if the voice inside his head kept saying that he needed to watch out for her.

He cleared his throat. “If working alone is going to be a problem, we could end this now.”

The silence on her end continued. He really wished he could look into her eyes. For the first time, he found communicating via the phone frustrating.

“No. It won’t be a problem.” Her voice sounded confident. “But I have a stipulation of my own.”

“And that would be?”

“I need to speak with my father at least once a day—”

“That’s fine.”

“Would you reconsider letting me visit him? He will miss me.”

This separation was to punish her father—not her. He’d cost Deacon and now the man had to pay a price—even if it wasn’t dictated by a judge. Her father would learn not to take Gabrielle for granted.

“He should have thought of that before he allowed you to pay the price for his actions. Our arrangement will hold. You will stay here and work for three months.”

Deacon knew what it was like to be alone. Both of his parents had passed on and he had no siblings. Other than Mrs. Kupps, the housekeeper, he was alone in this big rambling estate—except now Gabrielle was here. And somehow her mere presence seemed to make this place a little more appealing and less like a prison.

“My father didn’t make me do anything. I volunteered.” Her indignation came through loud and clear.

“Now that everything is settled, I’ll let you get to work.” Deacon disconnected the call.

Something told him this was going to be a very, very long three months. But it definitely wouldn’t be boring.

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_334a2610-5159-5a85-a9f1-aebe638d54a7)

THIS DEFINITELY WASN’T her best first day on the job.

In fact, it ranked right up there as one of the worst.

And the day wasn’t over yet.

A loud crack of thunder shook the windows at the same time as lightning lit up the sky around the guesthouse. Gabrielle rushed to close the French doors. Somehow the weather seemed rather fitting.

She had one more piece of business before she curled up with a book and escaped from reality. She had to file her first report with QTR.

Gaby sat down at the granite kitchen bar and opened her laptop. She stared at a blank screen with the cursor blinking at her...mocking her. What would she say? She didn’t even know what format to use. Did they expect her to tell a story or stick to bullet points?

Sure, she’d earned a bachelor’s degree in journalism, but with a downturn in the economy, she hadn’t been able to land a position in publishing, so she’d returned to school. She’d gone on to get a second degree in library science. Books had always been her first love.

And as much as she loved words, right now they wouldn’t come to her. She typed a couple of words, but they didn’t sound right. She deleted them.

This is ridiculous. It’s not an article for the public to read. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just needs to be the facts. So start writing.

The man has closed himself completely off from others. Is it the result of guilt? Or something else?

As she pressed Enter to begin the next point, the landline rang. That was odd. She hadn’t given anyone that phone number. Her father had her cell phone number.

She picked up the phone. “Hello.”

“Did you find everything you need?” Not a greeting. Just straight to the point.

“Yes, I did.”

“I wasn’t sure what you like to eat, so I had Mrs. Kupps prepare you a plate of pasta, a tossed salad and some fresh baked bread. You will find it in your kitchen.”

Outside the storm raged on with thunder and howling wind. Gaby did her best to ignore it. “Thank you.” Had he called purely out of courtesy? Or was this his way of checking up on her? Perhaps this was her opportunity to flush him out of the shadows. “Will you be joining me?”

“No.” His voice was firm and without hesitation. He was certainly a stubborn man. “In the future, you can let Mrs. Kupps know what you eat and don’t eat, so that she can plan the menu appropriately.”

“I—I can do that.” She hesitated. “The guesthouse is nice.” There was some sort of grunt on his end of the phone. She wasn’t sure what it was supposed to mean, so she ignored it. “What time would you like to get started in the morning?”

“I start before the sun is up. You can start by eight. Will that be a problem?”

“No. Not at all.” She was used to opening the library at eight each morning. “I have a few things that I’d like to go over with you. Shall we meet in my office?”

“I thought you understood that this arrangement is to be by phone or email. I don’t do one-on-one meetings—”

“But—”