Trading Places with the Boss

She smiled sweetly at everyone, noting the stunned faces all around, and then her gaze came back to meet Rafe’s. Was that anger she saw? Laughter? Mockery?

She couldn’t tell. But there was no time for analysis. If she delayed this dramatic leave-taking any longer, she would spoil the whole thing.

“See you at five,” she said, turning to go.

She didn’t hear what he said, but she recognized his low voice saying something, and the table erupted with laughter just as she reached the doorway. Had he been making fun of her? No doubt. Her face was suddenly very hot and she knew she must be glowing like a neon sign.

“Darn you, Rafe Allman,” she muttered to herself as she went quickly toward the elevator. “Darn you and the horse you rode in on!”

Five o’clock came and Shelley waited nervously, adjusting chairs, turning down the music. What if Rafe defied her and didn’t show up? What if he didn’t tell the others? What if he did show up and made fun of her all through the meeting?

Think it couldn’t happen? Hah!

The thing was, she and Rafe had a track record that went back over twenty years. There were times when her close friendship with his sister Jodie meant that she had practically lived at the Allman house. Growing up, her mother had been busy all the time with the coffee shop she ran, Millie’s Café. On hot summer days, Shelley usually found her way to Jodie’s and the two of them did all the things young girls frolicked in together.

Even back then she and Rafe had been adversaries. He was always finding some way to embarrass her or make her feel inadequate. He was, after all, the one who pointed out to everyone at the Allman dinner table when she was eleven and wore her first training bra to dinner at their house. Her face still burned when she thought of the looks on all their faces as they stared in surprise and amusement at her youthfully modest chest.

Too bad she didn’t find a way to murder him then.

Never mind. She was stuck with him for the weekend so she would just have to make the best of it. She knew he must hate her in the position of being his boss, even if temporarily. And she knew she was going to have to fight him all the way just to keep him from taking over.

If only Rafe’s older brother Matt had come instead of Rafe. Matt was older, wiser…nicer. She considered him the ideal big brother she never really had. She would do just about anything for him.

A knock sounded and she jumped. Taking a deep breath, she walked quickly to the door and opened it.

“Good evening, Miss Sinclair.” Rafe stood looking down at her, the mockery in his eyes echoing the mockery in his voice.

Behind him was the rest of the group. She did a quick inventory. Candy Yang, a paralegal, would make a great assistant. She’d dealt with her before. Jerry was head of finance, but she also knew he was a home carpenter who loved woodworking and could easily supervise building sets. Pretty little Dorie Berger was an entry-level office worker, a sweet young thing who would do pretty much as she was told. And the two others were people she didn’t really know very well, but they seemed agreeable.

“Here we are,” Rafe was saying, draping himself across her doorway. “Your loyal minions, awaiting your command.”

“Good,” she said, standing back. “Come on in. We need to get started right away.”

Her gaze met his as he sauntered into the room. Something hard and challenging lurked deep in his eyes, and her mouth went dry as she noted it. The weekend was going to be a rough one. Her challenge had only begun.

Chapter Two

Sometimes that whole damn sex thing just got in the way.

Rafe sat toying with the remains of a sumptuous dessert, moving curled pieces of bitter chocolate from one side of the plate to the other with his silver fork. But his mind was on the woman at the other end of the long table.

Shelley Sinclair. He’d known her just about all his life. And here she was, complicating things for him once again. It would certainly be easier if she didn’t have that long, silky hair that fell down into a sensual curl just over the swell of her left breast. If she didn’t have those doe-shaped eyes that seemed to hide a secret sorrow. If she didn’t have that soft, lush mouth that always made him think of long, hot kisses and the scent of gardenias.

Why gardenias? He had no idea.

And the entire thing disgusted him anyway. Just looking at her now, as she slowly put another forkful of whipped cream in that beautiful mouth, he felt a surge of desire that almost made him groan aloud. He was too old for this sort of thing, dammit! Lusting after anyone would have been a problem, but lusting after Shelley Sinclair was nuts.

It hadn’t always been like this. Years ago, when Shelley had hung around the Allman house with his little sister Jodie, and the two of them had spied on him and teased him and made his life miserable, he certainly hadn’t thought of her as sexy. In fact, if he thought of her at all, it had been with extreme annoyance—as in, “What a brat!”

But that was then.

Now she was another sort of irritant. And he couldn’t let that get in the way of what had to be accomplished here. He hadn’t asked for this assignment, but now that it had been thrust on him, he was damn well going to come out of it with a trophy in his hand. Allman Industries had to win this competition and it was up to him to make sure that happened. This whole setup, where he was supposed to switch places with Shelley, was going to work against him having the control he needed. And he was going to have to do something about that.

The strategy meeting had been frustrating. He’d assumed that after a little bit of moderating for window-dressing, she would gracefully sit back and let him take over. After all, that was where he belonged, where he usually was—in charge. It was the natural order of things and everyone knew it.

Everyone but Shelley, who seemed to be on another trajectory entirely. She’d held onto the floor, stubborn as a squirrel with the last fall acorn. She had plans and she laid them out, talking fast, assigning workshops for the next morning, giving out instruction sheets. He’d hardly gotten a word in edgewise.

And just when he’d had enough and he’d stood up to take over the reins by force if he had to, she’d given him a triumphant look and adjourned for dinner. Then they had all trooped down to the restaurant to meet the other Allman Industries employees for a totally choice meal. All twenty-one of them. Made you wonder who was home minding the store.

But that was okay. This competition was important, more important than the others here knew. It wasn’t just his competitive nature that was at stake here. A major supply contract hinged on the outcome. That was the way they had built the business, scraping and fighting for every advantage. He’d promised his father he would deliver a win and that was what he was going to do. After all, if he was going to prove to them all that he was the natural pick to take over the company, he had to show that he could be just as ruthless as his father ever was.

The others were rising from the table, preparing to go back to their rooms and get some sleep before attending the workshops in the morning. Rafe rose, too, nodding to Jim but brushing aside a melting look from Tina, the raven-haired, statuesque director of personnel who had been giving him the come-on for weeks now, and he headed straight for Shelley.

She looked up, surprised, when he took her arm and leaned close.

“We need to talk,” he said softly near her ear.

Her lovely mouth tilted at the corners. “Talk is cheap,” she quipped, gathering her things and looking toward the exit. “Send me an e-mail.”

His fingers ringed her upper arm. He wasn’t about to let her bolt, despite the way her flesh felt under his hand.

“You want all communications in writing, so you can hold my words as evidence against me?” he responded in kind. “Just a bit too transparent, Shelley. I’m not going to fall for that one.”

“Too smart for me, huh?” She gave a significant glance at his hand on her arm. “Or, if brains don’t work for you, you’re ready to move on to manhandling. Is that it?”

He didn’t let go. “Intimidation can come in many forms,” he noted dryly. “Some of them just your size.”

“Are you accusing me of using my feminine wiles to intimidate you?” she said, looking more amused than anything else.

He opened his mouth to say something that would get him into a lot of trouble, but luckily, he thought better of it in time.

“Shelley, I just want to talk to you. Don’t make a federal case out of it.”

“Okay.” She made a face that made it obvious she was surrendering to the inevitable. “Come on up to my room. I’ll give you fifteen minutes.”

Rafe drew in a deep breath, looking down at her. Okay, here was the crux of his dilemma. Every part of him yearned toward an evening alone in her room. He could already see the soft light, feel the romantic music coming in over the sound system, taste the way her mouth would yield under his….

No way. Couldn’t be done. How about the bar?

The music there would be throbbing with sensual urgency, the atmosphere provocative, the sense of impending possibilities tantalizing, her mouth would be just as tempting—and alcohol would be involved.

No. Too dangerous.

“Let’s walk down to the canal,” he said quickly, deciding a public walkway filled with tourists would pose the least risk. “Soak up some of the ambience.”

A slight frown appeared, but she nodded. “Fine. Let’s go.”

The evening air was unusually warm. The crowd was thick and in a rollicking mood. Lights from the boutiques and clubs bounced off the water and laughter formed a foundation for the music that filled the night. The scene was celebration.