Wanted by the Boss: Sleeping with the Boss / Cowboy Boss / Billionaire Boss

‘‘Your grandma called,’’ Eileen said as she poked her head into Rick’s office Monday morning.

He looked up. ‘‘What line is she on?’’

‘‘No, called,’’ she repeated. ‘‘Past tense.’’ Leaning against the doorjamb, she folded her arms over her chest and looked at him. ‘‘She said to tell you she didn’t have time to talk. She booked a last-minute Fall Foliage train trip and she still had to shop for clothes.’’

Rick smiled to himself. His grandmother would never change. She treated life like an adventure. She never bothered to plan something out. She thought there was no fun in anything if it wasn’t spontaneous. Hence, her trip to watch the space shuttle launch. And apparently, fall leaves. ‘‘When’s she coming back?’’

Eileen laughed shortly. ‘‘She wasn’t sure. But she did say she tried to get my gran to join her.’’

‘‘Is she?’’

‘‘No.’’ She straightened up and walked across his office to stand in front of his desk. ‘‘When Gran takes a trip, she likes to go to the auto club and stock up on maps months in advance. Half the fun, she says, is planning her route.’’

‘‘Your grandmother plans, and mine’s a free spirit,’’ he murmured, leaning back in his chair to study her. ‘‘Ever think we were switched at birth?’’

‘‘Possibility. I used to plan things. I gave it up.’’

‘‘How’d you sleep?’’ he asked, his voice dropping a notch or two, until the sound of it scraped along her spine and sent a shiver of expectation rattling through her.

‘‘Fine. You?’’

‘‘Great.’’

‘‘Good.’’

‘‘Good,’’ he said, his gaze locked on hers and burning with unspoken words. ‘‘I missed—’’

She held her breath.

‘‘—breakfast in bed,’’ he finished.

‘‘Me too.’’

‘‘With you, I mean,’’ Rick said, standing up and moving around the edge of his desk. ‘‘I missed a lot of things. Missed hearing you breathing in the dark.’’

‘‘Rick…’’

‘‘I missed reaching for you and finding you there, hot and ready.’’

‘‘Yeah well,’’ Eileen admitted after inhaling sharply, ‘‘I kind of missed being reached for.’’

‘‘So what’re we gonna do?’’

‘‘I guess we’re gonna keep this going for a while, huh?’’

‘‘Is that what you want?’’ he asked.

‘‘Depends. Is it what you want?’’

He took her hand and yanked her close enough that she could feel his hard strength pressing into her abdomen. ‘‘You tell me.’’

‘‘Okeydoke, then.’’ Her body burst into flames. She knew because her mouth was suddenly dry. ‘‘After work. My place?’’

‘‘After work,’’ he repeated, and reluctantly released her. ‘‘But for now,’’ he said as he walked back to his desk chair, ‘‘I need to see the Baker files.’’

‘‘You bet,’’ she said, and turned around, headed back to the outer office. She felt him watching her with every step.

Two hours later, Rick was closeted with a client and Eileen’s phone was ringing.

‘‘Hawkins Financial.’’

‘‘Hello, honey!’’

Eileen smiled into the phone. ‘‘Hi, Gran.’’

‘‘How’s it going?’’

She opened her mouth, then closed it again, pausing to think. Hmm. How to describe what was going on around here. ‘‘It’s going…fine.’’ Safe, boring and as far from the truth as she could get. But what else was she going to tell her grandma? That Rick was the best sex she’d ever had?

Good God.

Right after recovering from her heart attack, Gran would drag Eileen to St. Steven’s and stretch her out prostrate on the altar. Nope. Sometimes a comfortable lie was better than the truth.

‘‘Good. I knew everything would work out as soon as you were able to let go of the whole ‘Rick was mean to me’ issue from your childhood.’’

‘‘Issue?’’ Eileen pulled the phone from her ear and stared at it for a moment through thoughtful, narrowed eyes. Then she snapped it back and asked, ‘‘Have you been watching that talk show again?’’

‘‘Dr. Mike is a very smart man,’’ Gran said.

‘‘Oh,’’ she said dryly, ‘‘I’ll bet.’’ Gran’s favorite TV psychologist had an answer for everything from hair loss to potty training and wasn’t the least bit shy about sharing them. And women like her grandmother ate it up.

‘‘He’s simply trying to help people face and confront their fears.’’ A long pause. ‘‘You might think about watching him sometime, dear.’’

Eileen sighed and pulled her hands back from the keyboard. Giving the closed door to Rick’s office a quick look, she said, ‘‘I don’t have any fears to confront, Gran. But thanks for thinking of me.’’

‘‘Commitment-phobic people always claim that.’’

‘‘What?’’ Her eyes bugged out and Eileen slapped one hand over them to prevent another contact lens search.

‘‘Dr. Mike says that people who are afraid to get hurt should just jump in and take the risk anyway. It’s healthy.’’

‘‘Dr. Mike can kiss my—’’

‘‘Eileen Ryan!’’

‘‘Gran.’’ Instantly apologetic, Eileen remembered where she was and lowered her voice. ‘‘I’m sorry. But seriously, stop trying to cure me by watching television. And, I don’t need a cure. There’s nothing wrong with me, anyway.’’

‘‘Nothing a husband and kids wouldn’t fix,’’ her grandmother argued.