Much More Than a Mistress

“My question?”

“I would love a cup of coffee. Although this time I’d rather not wear it.”

Her lips tilted into an embarrassed smile. “Of course.”

“My cup is on my desk.” He unfastened his belt and the button on his pants so he could tuck in his shirt, stifling a grin when she quickly looked away again.

“I—I’ll go get it now,” she said, tripping over her own foot in her haste to get away.

He had the feeling that, until she discovered that the evidence she was hoping to find didn’t exist and gave up, he could have an awful lot of fun at her expense.

The spike heels had been a really bad idea, Jane decided as she grabbed Mr. Everette’s World’s Best Boss cup from his desk and hurried to the break room, heart pounding from a combination of her own horrifying ineptitude and supreme lack of grace, and the sight of her new boss standing shamelessly bare-chested in her presence.

Not that he had anything to be ashamed of. His body—what she could see of it anyway—was a work of art. And she was betting that the bottom half was no less awe-inspiring. So much for her theory that he was middle-aged and fat. That’s what she got for drawing hasty conclusions.

Some vampy, sex goddess secretary she’d turned out to be. She couldn’t have made more of an ass out of herself if she’d dressed like a clown and donned a squeaky red nose. Proof that despite her physical transformation, deep down she was just as geeky and awkward as ever. Had she been completely fooling herself to believe that she could handle an undercover position?

She poured the coffee and added a teaspoon of creamer, mentally shaking away those negative thoughts. She could do this, damn it. She was good enough. She had been working up to this for months. Failure was not an option.

Squaring her shoulders, she carried the coffee back to Mr. Everette’s office. She rapped lightly on the door before stepping inside, grateful to see that he was fully clothed and sitting at his desk. He was also on the phone, meaning she didn’t have to talk to him. It was both a disappointment and a relief. If she was going to glean the information necessary for the investigation, she was going to have to talk to the man. Get to know him. Earn his trust.

He gestured her over, telling the caller, “I’m sure it was just an oversight.”

She crossed the room, the cup cradled gingerly in both palms, and set it on his desk. She started to turn, but he held up a hand, signaling her to wait. “Yes, Mother, I promise I’ll talk to him today.” He paused, looking exasperated, then said, “Well, in all fairness, you ditched us on Christmas. Can you blame Nathan if he’s feeling bitter?”

She could only assume he was talking about his brother Nathan, who was the CBO of Western Oil. Having worked closely with her own siblings for years, she knew how complicated the family dynamic could be. Especially when one broke tradition and made the decision to leave the fold to pursue their own aspirations. Not that she had a clue how the Everette family got along. Although most men in a decent relationship with their mother wouldn’t have them on an auto callback list.

“The fact that he was a baron doesn’t make it okay,” he said, holding up a finger to indicate that it would be just one more minute. “I have to go, Mother, I—” He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I will talk to him. I promise.” Another short pause then, “Okay, Mother. Goodbye.” He hung up the phone, blew out an exasperated breath and looked up at Jane. “Do you get along with your mother, Miss Monroe?”

The question threw her, and it took her a second to regroup. It wasn’t that she didn’t get along with her parents. They just refused to accept that they didn’t know what was better for her than she did. And she couldn’t help wondering why he cared about her relationship with her mother. “It’s … complicated.”

“Well, mine is a gigantic pain in the ass. She’s a master manipulator and will browbeat you to within an inch of your life to get what she wants. You have to be firm and direct or she will walk all over you.”

“I understand,” she said, although firm and direct were never two of her strong suits. Her own family had been walking all over her for years. But she had broken the cycle, hadn’t she? Well, for the most part anyway. She tended to just avoid them now. And, yes, bent the truth when it made her life easier.

“Would you mind pouring that coffee into a travel mug?” he asked. “There should be one in the cabinet over by the wet bar.”

“Of course.” She carried his cup to the bar across the room, asking casually, “Are you leaving?”

“I have a meeting at the refinery.”

That would give her time to snoop in his office. Her heart surged with nervous energy. She found the cup where he’d indicated and as she poured the coffee in, her hands were shaking.

Relax, she told herself, taking a deep breath.

She could just imagine how impressed her superiors would be if she were able to bring them valuable information on her very first day. Then they would have to take her seriously.

It took a couple of tries but she secured the top on the cup and turned, jerking with surprise when she almost ran face-first into Mr. Everette. He was so close, she could smell the soapy-fresh scent of his skin. If the cup hadn’t had a lid, they would probably both be wearing coffee this time.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, but the grin he wore said otherwise. Was he teasing her? Were the makeup and the clothes actually working?

He took the cup from her, the tips of his fingers brushing against hers as he did and she tried not to flinch. He set it on the counter beside the sink. “I think we’d all be safer if you didn’t carry that around.”

She felt herself blushing. “Sorry.”

With a grin that was nothing short of adorable, he stepped past her to the closet next to the bathroom and pulled out his coat.

“Is there anything you need me to do while you’re gone?” she asked as he shrugged into it.

“Just man the phones and take the day to get settled in. Familiarize yourself with the computer. I have a lunch meeting at twelve-thirty so I should be back sometime before two.”

Which would give her lots of time to snoop. No, not snoop … investigate. She had to start thinking like a pro, using the appropriate lingo. She had to play the part, even in her own mind. If she didn’t take herself seriously, no one would.

“I should take you out sometime,” he said.

She blinked. Did he seriously just ask her on a date? And how was she supposed to respond to that? What would a sophisticated woman of the world say?

All she could manage was a befuddled, “Um …”

“I’m assuming you’ve never been to a refinery.”

Oh, he wanted to take her to the refinery. That made a lot more sense. “No, never.”

“It’s an impressive operation,” he said, and she must have looked wary, because he added, “and contrary to what you’ve probably seen on the news, it’s completely safe.”

She had heard negative press about the incident at the refinery, but the agency had several employees working undercover directly on the line, and as far as she was aware, none of them had ever reported being in any danger. Sure, this was a high-profile case, but the other agents would never be sent into a situation that could cause them physical harm.

“I’d love to see it,” she said.

“I’m there several days a week, so maybe the next time I go.” He glanced at the platinum Rolex on his left wrist. “I’m late. If there’s anything pressing while I’m gone, or something you aren’t sure about, feel free to call my cell.”

“I will.” She handed him his cup, careful to avoid his fingers this time because frankly, she was nervous enough without all the intimate contact.

Cup in hand, he headed for the door. She followed him, stopping at her desk.

“By the way,” he said, stopping in the doorway and gesturing the coffee stain on the carpet. “Call janitorial to take care of that.”

“I will.” Later.

He flashed her one last knee-melting smile, then left.

Here we go.

She stood there and counted to sixty, gauging the amount of time it would take him to get to the elevator and get inside, then she walked down the hall. The elevator doors were just closing as she stepped into the reception area.

“Did Mr. Everette leave yet?” she asked Jen.

“You just missed him, hon.”