Who's the Boss? Read online

  “I don’t pity you,” he said gruffly. “You’re far too maddening for that.”

  “Another compliment.” She pressed a hand to her chest and batted her lashes at him. “You really must stop—it’ll go to my head.”

  “This is a business,” he said carefully. “And I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

  “Well, you’ve got a funny way of showing it, but don’t worry, boss, I won’t forget who signs the paychecks.” Caitlin swallowed her hurt. “And if it makes you feel any better, I can not like you very much and still enjoy kissing you.”

  “I meant,” he said tightly, his probing gaze pinning her to the spot, “that this... this—”

  “Yes? This what, Joe? Relationship? No, that would be too much, wouldn’t it.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  His expression wasn’t grim or angry; those she could have easily resisted. He seemed... genuinely baffled. And scared.

  That stopped her as nothing else could have. He was nervous and unsettled. The big, restless, ill-tempered, bullheaded man was backpedaling as fast as he could because she terrified him. “That’s the funny thing here, Joe. I don’t want anything from you.”

  “Women always do.”

  “Is that right?” She studied him thoughtfully. “Yeah, I can see that might be a problem. Gorgeous, smart...and such a charming bedside manner. How ever do you fight them all off?”

  When he took another step toward her, scowling, her heart raced, but not from fear. Damn him, he’d done the impossible. He’d made her want him and now he was regretting it. She could really hate him for that. But she knew if he so much as touched her, she’d fling herself into those very capable arms.

  She backed to the door, grabbed the jamb for balance and sent him a smile, though it wavered. “You know what? Never mind this whole thing. I’ve got work.”

  “Wait.” He paused, drew a ragged breath. “I’m sorry,” he said in that unbearably sexy voice that was now filled with tenderness and affection—two emotions she would never have expected of him.

  She turned away. “I’m not.”

  “Caitlin.” She stopped, but didn’t face him, and when she heard his words, she was glad for it.

  “This won’t happen again. It can’t.”

  “Okay.”

  “I mean it.” His stern voice reminded her that she didn’t like stern men who didn’t see past her exterior to the woman beneath.

  “Fine.” Now, pride fierce and hot, she looked at him. “Remember that the next time you grab me close, Joe, okay? Keep your lips to yourself.”

  THE CROWNING GLORY CAME late the next afternoon. Caitlin made the mistake of thinking about Joseph’s kiss while working the new coffeemaker. She got herself so hot and bothered, she didn’t pay attention to the strange crackling, sizzling sound coming from the outlet on the wall where the machine was plugged in.

  The cord caught fire.

  She figured the ensuing explosion was Joseph’s final straw.

  He came storming into the kitchen, eyes wild, hair standing up on end from where he’d plowed his fingers through it. “Again?” he yelled. “You’re incredible! How does this happen to you? To me?” Unplugging the scorched, blown-up unit from the wall, he hissed at the heat. Now that there was coffee from ceiling to floor, there were no more flames.

  Just that scorched-coffee smell.

  With one swift look at the calamity around him, he went straight to her.

  Caitlin couldn’t bring herself to look at him, but he lifted her chin with his fingers. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and serious.

  She nodded, sure she’d never felt so stupid in all her life.

  “You’re sure?” He turned her face from side to side, inspecting her thoroughly. She nodded again.

  “Good.” He drew a deep breath and glanced at the mess around them. “Then I can yell at you and not feel bad.”

  “Maybe I’m not so okay after all,” she decided, but he didn’t find her humorous in the least.

  Tim, Andy and Vince appeared in the doorway, eyes wide, faces grim.

  “In fact,” she said urgently, “I’m critically injured. Probably going to die.”

  “She’s kidding,” Joe told them. “I’ll handle this.” To underscore his point, he shut the door in their faces. The room suddenly shrank.

  “I can’t work like this,” he said, far too quietly. “If I don’t get some peace soon, Caitlin, I’ll blow up. Just like the coffeemaker.”

  What could she say—she had no idea what she’d done wrong, other than be born. Man, he had such great, wide shoulders—perfect for setting her head down on. They were so strong, so durable. She could lean there and cry it all out—her fears for her future...how she was beginning to feel for him...that she didn’t want to be alone anymore. She thought maybe he could feel the same way about her if he tried really hard and overlooked all the little things that drove him crazy....

  “I’m sorry. I really do know how to make coffee, honest.”

  “I’m so close to finishing this program. I’m so damn close, and you keep distracting me, driving me insane. Do you do it on purpose?”

  “No, it’s just a special talent of mine.” But she thought it only fair he take half the blame for the coffeemaker thing. It had been his lips, his touch, his everything that had distracted her in the first place; otherwise she would have noticed the fire.

  He paced the small kitchen, his sneakers making squishy noises in the coffee. He looked huge. Powerful. Very dangerous. “I thought I could do this—I swear I did. Dammit, I wanted to for Edmund.”

  Her heart lodged in her throat. “What are you saying?”

  “That I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t.” With a sound of disbelief, he gestured around him. “Look at this, Caitlin. Did you know we’ve been here for years and never once has that damn thing exploded? You’ve done it twice now.” In disgust, he lifted a foot, and it came loose from the linoleum with a loud pop. “We’ve never even had to mop before you came here.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessarily something to be proud of. A good cleaning never hurt anything, Joe.”

  “Well it’s gotten two cleanings in four days! There are more important things to be doing, dammit!”

  “And I’d be happy to be doing them, but you don’t trust me!”

  “Trust you! You can’t even work a coffeemaker!”

  “All right, fine!” she yelled back, her hands on her hips. “But we all make mistakes. You don’t see me flinging yours in your face.”

  “Because I haven’t made any,” he shouted, matching her tone as they stood nose to nose raging at each other.

  “You make me so—”

  The doorway to the kitchen was suddenly filled with curious, frantic techs.

  “Get out!” Joe reached over and slammed the door.

  “That wasn’t nice.” Caitlin lifted her chin. “They’re probably just wondering what you’re hollering about.”

  “They’re used to it, believe me,” Joe assured her. He let out a slow breath. “And you’re changing the subject. I make you so...what? So mad?”

  So horny. The thought came unbidden, but it didn’t quite apply here. “Yes! Mad and irritated and frustrated and anxiety ridden.”

  “Is that all?”

  “You also infuriate me.”

  “That’s the same as mad.”

  “It’s mad multiplied.”

  “My point exactly.” He nodded, quite calm now. “We drive each other crazy, so—”

  “I never said you drove me crazy.”

  He sighed and closed his eyes, looking so defeated, she wanted to hug him. Hug him?

  Maybe she was crazy.

  “You’re skirting around the real issue.”

  “Of course I am,” she snapped. “You’re trying to fire me and pretend it has nothing to do with what happened earlier in your office. Which is a crock!”

  A knock came at the door, followed by Tim’s hesitant voice.