скачать книгу бесплатно
‘‘Well yeah.’’ She folded her arms across her chest and tapped the toe of one shoe against the steel-blue carpet. ‘‘That’s a sure sign of a serial killer in the making.’’
‘‘Sorry to disappoint you. No grisly past here. Just a businessman.’’
She shrugged. ‘‘Same difference.’’
Rick shook his head. She had the same temperament she’d had as a kid. Always ready for war. Must be the red hair. And with a personality like that, this might just work. ‘‘Is the office going to be a war zone for the next two weeks, because if it is…’’
‘‘No,’’ she said, tossing her black leather purse onto the desk that would be hers as long as she was there. ‘‘I’m just being pissy. It’s not even your fault.’’
‘‘For which I’m grateful.’’
‘‘Cute.’’
‘‘Peace, okay? I appreciate you helping me out, Eileen.’’ He did. He needed the help. He just didn’t need the kind of distraction she was no doubt going to be.
Her eyebrows went high on her forehead. ‘‘Hey,’’ she said smiling, ‘‘that’s an improvement. At least you didn’t call me Eyeball.’’
‘‘No,’’ he said, giving her a slow, approving up-and-down look. The scrawny little girl with long braids and a perpetual scab on her knee was gone. This woman was a world away from the child he’d nicknamed Eyeball. ‘‘You’re definitely an ‘Eileen’ these days.’’
She inclined her head in a silent thank-you and it seemed, he thought, that a temporary truce had been declared.
‘‘It’s been awhile,’’ she said.
‘‘Yeah.’’ It had, in fact, been about six years since he’d last seen her. When they were growing up, he and the Ryan sisters had been thrown together a lot, thanks to their grandmothers’ close friendship. But once out of high school—hell, once he and Eileen’s sister Bridget had broken up, he’d stopped coming around.
And while he’d been gone, Eileen Ryan had done a hell of a job of growing up.
Damn it.
‘‘How’s your grandmother?’’ he asked.
‘‘Just as spry and manipulative as always,’’ Eileen said with a quick grin that dazzled him even from across the room. ‘‘Here I stand as living proof. Gran is probably the only woman in the world who could have talked me into taking on a job on what should have been my vacation.’’
‘‘She’s good.’’
‘‘She is.’’ She reached up to push her hair behind her ears. The silver hoops winked at him in the sunlight. ‘‘And she misses you. You should stop and see her sometime.’’
‘‘I will,’’ he said, meaning it. Maggie Ryan had been a second grandmother to him. It shamed him to admit that he hadn’t kept up with her.
‘‘How’s your gran?’’
‘‘In Florida,’’ he said, grinning. ‘‘To catch the space shuttle launch next week.’’
Eileen turned and leaned one hip on the edge of her desk. ‘‘She was always doing something exciting, as I remember it.’’
Rick smiled to himself. His grandmother had always been one for grand adventures. ‘‘I think she was actually born a gypsy and then sold to a normal family as a baby.’’
Eileen shrugged and that fabulous hair actually rippled with light and color. ‘‘What’s normal?’’
‘‘Beats the hell outta me,’’ he admitted. He’d once thought he knew what normal was. It was everything he didn’t have. A regular family with a mom and a dad. A house with a picket fence and a big sloppy dog to play with. Dreams and plans and everything else he’d worked so hard to acquire. But now he wasn’t so sure.
For some people, Rick thought, ‘‘normal’’ just never came into play. And that was okay with him now that he’d come to grips with the fact that he was a member of that particular group. He’d tried to find that normalcy once. He’d married a woman he thought loved him as much as he cared for her. By the time he’d figured out how wrong he was, she’d left, taking half of his business with her.
And his ability to trust went with her.
‘‘So.’’ Eileen’s voice cut into his thoughts and he turned his attention back to her, gratefully. ‘‘What exactly is it you need me to do?’’
‘‘Right.’’ Good idea, he told himself. Stick to business here. Just because their families were friendly was no reason for them to treat this situation as anything more than strictly business. Better all the way around, he thought as his gaze slipped back to her and he felt his blood thicken. Yep. A long two weeks.
Rick walked to the desk and stopped behind it. ‘‘Mainly, I need you to take care of the phones, take messages and type up a few reports for me when necessary.’’
‘‘So basically, you want me to stick my finger in a dyke and keep the place from flooding until you can get someone in here permanently.’’
‘‘Well, yeah, that’s one way to put it.’’ Rick pushed the edges of his navy-blue suit jacket back and shoved his hands into his pants pockets. ‘‘With Margo out early on maternity leave, the place is falling apart and the temp agency can’t send me anyone for another two weeks at least.’’
‘‘Whoa—’’ Eileen held up one hand as she stared at him. Okay, she could admit, to herself anyway, that Rick Hawkins was a little…more than she’d expected. For some reason, even after that glimpse of him six years ago her mind had kept his image as he was at sixteen. Tall and lanky, with messy brown hair and a crooked smile. Well, that smile was there, but he wasn’t lanky anymore. He was built like a man who knew what the inside of a gym looked like.
And his voice sounded like melted chocolate tasted.
So sure, she was female enough to be distracted. A lot. Until he’d used the words ‘‘at least’’. She wasn’t about to let herself get sucked into giving him more than the agreed-on time.
‘‘At least?’’ she repeated. ‘‘I can only do this for two weeks, Rick. Then I turn back into a pumpkin and head back out to Larkspur.’’
‘‘Larkspur?’’
‘‘My shop.’’ Her pride and joy. The spot she’d worked so hard to build.
‘‘Oh that’s right. Grandma said you worked at a flower shop.’’
‘‘I own a flower shop. Small, exclusive, with an emphasis on design.’’ She reached across the desk for her purse, rummaged in its depths for a second or two, then came up with a brass card case. Flipping it open, she pulled out a card and handed it to him. Pale blue linen, the card stock was heavy, and the printing was embossed. A lone stalk of delicate-looking flowers curled around the left-hand side, looping around the name Larkspur. Eileen’s name and phone number were discreetly added at the bottom.
‘‘Very nice,’’ Rick said, lifting his gaze back to hers as he automatically tucked the card into his breast pocket.
‘‘Thanks. We do good work. You should give us a try.’’
‘‘I will.’’ A heartbeat or two passed and the silence in the room dragged on, getting thicker, heavier, warmer. Something indefinable sizzled in the air between them and Rick told himself to put a lid on it. He’d never made a play for a co-worker before and now certainly wasn’t the time to start. Not when he would have two grandmothers out for his head if Eileen complained.
‘‘Anyway,’’ he said, his voice a little louder than he’d planned, ‘‘two weeks will be great. I’m sure the temp agency will come through for me.’’
‘‘There’re plenty of temp agencies out there. Why not try a different one?’’
He shook his head. ‘‘I’ve tried lots of them. This one always sends good people. Most of them don’t. I’d rather wait.’’
‘‘Why didn’t you get someone lined up before Margo left?’’
‘‘Good question,’’ he said wryly. ‘‘Should have. But I was so busy trying to get things done and finished before she was gone, that time sort of got away from me. And then in the last month or so, Margo wasn’t her usual organized self.’’
‘‘She probably had more important things on her mind.’’
‘‘I suppose.’’ His trusty secretary-assistant had left him high and dry even before her last day of work. Margo’s normally brilliant brain had dissolved into a sea of pregnancy hormones and daydreams of pitter-pattering feet. He couldn’t wait for her to give birth so things could get back to normal. ‘‘I’m just glad she’s going to come back to work after she has the kid.’’
‘‘That’s a shame,’’ Eileen said.
‘‘Huh?’’ He looked at her. ‘‘Why?’’
‘‘Well, because if I had a baby, I’d want to be able to stay home and take care of it myself.’’ Eileen set her purse down again, walked around the edge of the desk and nudged him out of the way so she could sit down in the blue leather desk chair. ‘‘I mean, I know lots of women have to work, but if you don’t have to…’’
‘‘Margo would go nuts without something to do with her day,’’ he argued, recalling his secretary’s gung-ho attitude. ‘‘She likes being busy.’’
‘‘I hear babies can keep you plenty busy.’’
He shuddered at the thought of Margo turning into a stay-at-home mom. ‘‘Don’t say that. She has to come back to work. She runs this place.’’
‘‘She probably will then,’’ Eileen said and opened the top drawer, inspecting, looking around, familiarizing herself with the setup. ‘‘I’m just saying…’’
‘‘Don’t say it again. You’ll jinx it.’’
‘‘Very mature.’’ She shut the drawer and opened another one, poking through the pads and boxes of pencils and even a bag of candy Margo had left behind. Pulling one piece free, she peeled off the silver foil and popped the chocolate into her mouth. ‘‘Do we have a coffee pot?’’
‘‘Right over there.’’ He pointed, looking away to keep from noticing how her tongue swept across her bottom lip as she chased every last crumb of chocolate.
‘‘Thank God,’’ she muttered, and hopped up again. Striding across the room to the low oak sideboard, she glanced over her shoulder at him. ‘‘Since it’s my first day, I’ll even get you a cup. After that though, you’re on your own. I’m not a waitress. I’m a secretary. Temporarily.’’
Temporarily, he reminded himself as his gaze locked onto the curve of her behind as she moved with an easy sway that was enough to knock any man’s temperature up a notch or two. Hell, every relationship became temporary eventually. At least this one was labeled correctly right from the start.
This could only be trouble, he told himself and wondered how in the hell he’d survive the next two weeks with Eileen back in his life.
By day three, Eileen remembered exactly why she’d left the business world for that of flowers. Flowers never gave you a headache. Flowers didn’t expect you to have all the answers. Flowers didn’t look great in three-piece suits.
Okay, that last one wasn’t one of her original reasons for relinquishing her keyboard. But it was right up there on the list now.
The work wasn’t hard. It was actually fairly interesting, though she’d never admit that out loud to Rick. And, after spending the past two years in a work wardrobe that consisted of jeans and a wide selection of T-shirts, it was sort of nice getting dressed up again. Good thing she hadn’t gotten rid of her work wardrobe. Slacks, shirts, discreet pumps or her comfy boots. She was wearing makeup and doing her hair every morning, too. A big change from her usual ponytail and a quick slash of lipstick. But none of that made up for the fact that she was spending way too much time watching Rick.
She’d had a crush on him when she was a kid, of course. Well, at least until the unfortunate Barbie incident. He and Bridie had ignored her most of the time and, when forced to spend time with her, Rick had teased Eileen until she’d wanted to kick him. But now…she turned her head just far enough to be able to look into his office through the partially opened door.
With his tie loosened at his open collar and his dark brown hair mussed from stabbing his fingers through it in frustration, he looked…what was the word? Oh, yeah. Tasty.
Oh ye gods.
This was a complication she didn’t want or need.
She couldn’t be fantasizing about Rick Hawkins. For one thing, when these two weeks were up, she’d be going back to her world, leaving him to his and never their twain would meet again. For another…he was so not her type. She liked the artsy guys with a slightly bohemian air that she ran into down at the beach. The guys who were tanned and relaxed, with the attitude of why do today what canbe put off indefinitely? Those guys were safe. She knew no relationship with them was going to go anywhere. The farthest they could see into the future was the next wave. Or their next paycheck. They didn’t have portfolios.
Heck, most of them didn’t own a pair of shoes that required socks.
So why suddenly was she spending way too much time thinking about, and fantasizing about, Mr. Corporate Millionaire?
Two
Rick leaned back in his chair and watched Eileen stop just at the threshold. She’d been doing that for three days now. She did the work. She was efficient, smart, organized. But she kept him at a distance. Always made sure she held herself back from him. And if he was smart, he’d appreciate that.
Instead, it frustrated him.
He hadn’t expected to be so attracted to her. When his grandmother had first suggested Eileen as a temporary secretary, Rick hadn’t been able to imagine it. The Eileen he’d known years ago was hardly his idea of a good assistant. But he’d been desperate and willing to try anything. Now that she was here, he could hardly think of anything else.
Probably not a good sign.
‘‘Hello? Earth to Rick.’’
He blinked, coming up out of his thoughts like a man waking from a coma. ‘‘What?’’
‘‘I don’t know. You called me in here, remember?’’ Eileen was still standing in the doorway, but now she was looking at him as if he had a screw loose. And hell. Maybe he did.
He pushed out of the chair and stood up. He’d always thought better on his feet anyway. ‘‘Yeah. I did. I’ll need you to stay a little later tonight—’’ He broke off when the phone in the outer office rang.
‘‘Hold that thought.’’ Eileen turned and walked to her desk.
He deliberately avoided watching the sway of her hips. It wasn’t easy.
She grabbed the receiver on the third ring. ‘‘Hawkins Financial.’’
Rick watched her as she reached across the desk for a pen. The hem of her skirt rode tantalizingly high on her thighs with the movement and he told himself not to look. But hell, he was male, right? And breathing? Impossible not to look.
Didn’t mean a thing.
‘‘Vanessa Taylor?’’ Eileen turned to glance at him, a question in her eyes.
Damn.
No, he mouthed, shaking his head and waving both hands. All he needed right now, was having to listen to Vanessa ramble about cocktail parties she wanted him to take her to. Never mind that he hadn’t called her in weeks. Vanessa simply assumed that every man who crossed her path would become her helpless love slave. Rick Hawkins, however, didn’t believe in love or slavery.
Tell her anything, he mouthed the instructions and hoped to hell Eileen was good at lipreading. He felt like a damn mime. But he couldn’t risk a whisper. Vanessa had ears like a bat. She’d know he was there, then she’d insist on talking to him and he just wasn’t interested.
Hell, he hadn’t been interested when they were going out.
Anything? Eileen mouthed back, a decided gleam in her eyes. When he nodded, she smiled wickedly and said, ‘‘I’m sorry Ms. Taylor, but Rick can’t come to the phone right now. The doctors have advised him to not speak until the stitches are gone.’’
What? Rick took a step closer.
Eileen backed up. ‘‘Oh, you didn’t hear? A minor accident,’’ she said, laughter in her eyes and feigned sympathy in her voice. ‘‘I’m sure the disfigurement won’t be permanent.’’ An instant later, Eileen jerked the phone from her ear and winced. ‘‘Wow. She slammed the phone down so hard I think I may be deaf.’’
Rick stared at her. ‘‘Disfigurement? I’m disfigured? Why did you do that?’’
‘‘Eh?’’ She cupped one hand around her ear and tilted her head.
‘‘Funny, Ryan.’’ He smirked at her. Pushing the edges of his jacket back, he shoved both hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels. ‘‘What’s the deal?’’
‘‘You said I should tell her anything.’’
