The Bachelor Boss

“It’s all right, Duncan,” she said calmly. “Why don’t you take that material over to Kane? I’ll finish up here.”

“Sure thing.” With another sideways glance at Neil, Dunk scooped a file from a nearby credenza and bolted for the door.

“Please tell me he’s only here because there’s a flu epidemic and everyone else is desperately ill,” Neil muttered.

“Duncan is highly qualified.”

“For what? The demolition derby? Oh, God, Dunk is Kane’s new executive assistant, isn’t he?”

Libby rolled her eyes. “Yes, he is. I recommended him and Kane agreed.”

Neil groaned. “Couldn’t you have chosen someone better…like Typhoid Mary? Honestly, your employee recommendations could use some help.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Except Libby did know, because a few weeks ago she had hand-picked the employee to replace Neil’s latest in a long string of secretaries. She’d had a lot of fun, too, watching him squirm over her selection. Not that it lasted, he’d quickly moved Margie Clarke into the position, instead.

“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about,” he snapped.

“Not really. Tami Berkut is intelligent, excellent on the computer, and does great phone. She’s highly qualified and very…willing. Eager to please in every way.”

Neil winced at the subtle dig in Libby’s voice. Tami Berkut—also known as Tam Tam the Barracuda—had a fondness for tight red sweaters that showed off her spectacular breasts, and an itch to sleep her way through the executive washroom. But she wasn’t a bad employee, so he’d had her reassigned to a fifty-something executive who was devoted to his mother and thoroughly disinterested in red sweaters.

“Anyway, Kane likes Duncan, and he did a great job when I was on vacation a couple years ago. Besides, he’s only nervous around you, not anyone else. I think it has something to do with that cool, superior stare of yours.”

“I don’t have a superior stare.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“I don’t.” Neil insisted, a little offended. First she’d implied he was a snob, now he was cool and superior.

He didn’t think he was better than anyone else. Okay, he should admit preferring more office ceremony than Kane. But Kane could afford to be relaxed—he owned the company, which was a far cry from being the boss’s brother who had to prove he’d earned each and every promotion and wasn’t just being given a free ride out of nepotism.

“Anyway, you make Duncan nervous,” Libby said. “He’s very nice, and quite competent as long as you aren’t around.”

“Kane needs someone who’s competent no matter what.”

She waved her hand, unperturbed. “Duncan will be. I’m going to tell him something outrageous that will make him smile, instead of spill or break something when he sees you.”

Neil’s self-protective instincts went on full alert. “You don’t know anything outrageous about me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

He was sure.

Well, pretty sure.

Kane wouldn’t have told Libby about his occasional boyhood exploits, or about the time he’d gone skinny-dipping with a cheerleader in the Puget Sound. Skinny-dipping during a Washington winter wasn’t the brightest thing, but neither were teenage jocks. And he couldn’t think of anything else she might have heard about in the last eleven years that would qualify as outrageous.

“You don’t have anything to tell Dunk about me, unless you make something up,” he said severely.

“What a great idea. Thanks. I’ll think of something really good.”

“Don’t you dare,” he warned.

“Why not? It was your idea.”

His idea?

Right. As if Libby hadn’t already thought of inventing some extravagant, ridiculous tale to entertain Dunk Anderson. Nothing licentious, of course, just embarrassing as hell.

“I don’t know what Dunk is doing with the company, anyway,” Neil said, trying to change the subject. “Didn’t I hear he has a stockbroker’s license?”

She dumped handfuls of coffee-soaked tissue into the waste can. “Yes, but he didn’t like it. I think you’re prejudiced because he’s a man, and you think secretaries and assistants should be dutiful, coffee-fetching women, while men should be the power-brokers who run the universe.”

“That isn’t true. And didn’t we have this discussion a few hours ago? I don’t have hang-ups about women in business.”

She just lifted an eyebrow.

Neil opened his mouth, then closed it again. He might as well forget it. After countless debates with his sisters, he knew women understood a certain logic, men understood another, and there was no meeting in the middle. Particularly with a woman in Libby’s mood.

It was his own fault, both for the things he’d said earlier in the day, and for asking her out all those years ago. Some mistakes haunted you forever.

Of course, no one had ever tempted him like Libby Dumont. New on the job, Libby had been assigned to reorganize archived files in a basement of the company’s first building…a grim place everyone called the crypt. He’d gotten frustrated waiting for data on an old merger and gone down to get the file himself.

Then he’d seen Libby.

She was reaching up, pushing a teetering box back on a high shelf. Her sweater had pulled tight, defining her body and instantly setting him on fire. She’d glanced in his direction, lost her battle with the box, and was showered with dusty files. Instead of getting angry or embarrassed, she just laughed, her green eyes sparkling like jewels and her long hair falling down her back in a silken torrent of brown and gold and red.

God, he’d loved that laugh.

Unselfconscious, charming, convincing him she was a whole lot more experienced than was really the case.

Neil hesitated, then ran a finger into his collar and tugged on his tie. “By the way, my mother called and suggested I bring you to my nieces’ birthday party.”

Libby’s mouth dropped open.

A children’s party?

Wasn’t that too prosaic and normal for Neil? Over the years she’d heard Kane talk endlessly about the family; he was devoted to them. Neil seemed fond of his siblings, too, but she’d never imagined him attending a birthday celebration for two four-year-old girls.

“Thanks, but I’ve got work to do.” She would have enjoyed the party and visiting with the rest of the O’Rourke family, but going anywhere with Neil wasn’t the best idea—even though she wanted to kick him for looking so relieved at her refusal.

“I’m sure you’ve already put in enough hours.”

“Actually, I have…plans. For the evening.” It wasn’t a lie. She did have plans—laundry, vacuuming, and dosing the cat for fleas. Lately it felt like too much effort going on dates that never seemed to lead anywhere.

“All right. By the way, thanks for the report,” he said, holding up a sheaf of papers. “I’ll go over it this weekend, then we’ll talk again Monday.”

It wasn’t until after he’d left that Libby let out the breath she’d been holding.