Bachelor Boss. Christie Ridgway

the past five years,” the older woman added before turning her attention to Carlo again. “The parents are going to use their pay as a fund-raiser for their kids’ senior prom. The fairgrounds did something similar last summer. It will be good PR for us.”

      He frowned. “But parents? I don’t know, Claudia. I’ll want to talk to the fair security people, and even if they think it went well, I’m not sure—”

      “Oh, you should at least consider it,” Lucy interjected. “I was part of a community group that raised money in Phoenix last year during the hot air balloon festival weekend. We helped out with security and parking. It worked out great for everyone concerned.”

      “Yeah?” Carlo lifted an eyebrow.

      Even Claudia was looking at Lucy with more interest. “Yes,” she confirmed. “We had kids involved, too, because they’re always looking for ways to beef up their college applications with community service. If they were over sixteen and accompanied by a parent, they were welcome, too.”

      “Carlo,” Claudia said, looking less leopardlike and more thoughtful. “That sounds even better to me. I think it could increase future ticket sales if more teenagers are exposed to the festival.”

      “I see your point, but—”

      “It’s not supplanting your security plans,” Claudia insisted. “It’s supporting them. The volunteers can do simple things like move barriers and keep order in the food lines.”

      Carlo switched his gaze to Lucy. “How much do you know about how it worked in Phoenix?”

      She shrugged. “It was my baby. I pulled the volunteers together, I worked with the regular balloonfest security people, I spent the weekend slathered in sunscreen and passing out water bottles. It’s like Claudia said, we were essentially gofers for the professional security team and we made good money for a local women’s shelter.”

      “Sounds like you made it a success.”

      “It didn’t take a brain trust, just attention to detail and an ability to organize people. I can give you the phone number of a guy in Phoenix—”

      “Don’t bother,” he said. “Any calls that need to be made you can do yourself. This endeavor in San Diego will be your baby, too.”

      She stared at him. “My baby?”

      “Your project. You work for McMillan & Milano.”

      “Well, yes.” And apparently in his rush to deflect predator Claudia’s interest he hadn’t concerned himself about what the other woman might think about his mixing business with pleasure inside his own office.

      “So I’m putting you in charge of the high school volunteers at the Street Beat festival.”

      “I work for McMillan & Milano answering your phone and bringing you your mail,” she protested.

      Carlo waved it away. “Because you agreed to help out with that job as a favor, not because it’s the position you’re suited for. You’re the one with experience managing a volunteer activity like this. And even though you say it doesn’t take a brain trust, I happen to know you have a sharp mind, as well as a college degree your parents are very proud of. So, I’ve decided. It’s your project, Lucy.”

      It’s my project. Just something else to potentially screw up in the next three weeks because, lucky for her, the music event was scheduled at the end of her time with Carlo’s company. Was it now that she told him? Was it now she admitted that in the years since graduation she’d yet to find a position she was suited for? Surely, like the Suttons, he’d see it as a major flaw in her character that not one of her accounting jobs had floated her boat. Unlike her forge-straight-ahead family, she’d yet to find her path to success. She opened her mouth.

      Claudia beat her to the punch. “Carlo…” The other woman’s lips moved into a moue of distress and she lowered her voice as if she considered Lucy deaf, as well as dumb. “Do you really think your little phone answerer is the right person for the job?”

      Little.

      Little phone answerer.

      Lucy’s spine snapped straight as she heard in those words and that voice echoes of other words, other voices.

      Little Lucy.

      Lucy Goosey.

      Lucy won’t do it right this time, either.

      Carlo lifted one dark brow. “Lucy?”

      She swallowed. No way could she back down now, not in front of Claudia of the leopard dress and superior attitude, not in front of Carlo, who would likely pass along her balking to her sister and brothers, not in front of herself who had so many things to prove.

      And now add one more.

      “Don’t worry, Claudia,” she said. “His little phone answerer will be just fine.”

      Oh, how she wished she’d stuck to her plan and unstuck herself from Carlo. It was too late, though. There was nothing else to do but accept, and then succeed at this Street Beat assignment. She pushed away her panic at the thought, even though in the past three years she hadn’t truly felt successful at much besides finding another job after leaving the previous one behind.

      Somehow, Lucy had gotten away from him. The longer Carlo didn’t see her among the crowd at the Street Beat party, the more anxious he was to get his hands on her—uh, correct that. The more anxious he was to get a bead on where she was. Hands off, Milano. It was the cop inside him talking again, and his good sense, too. Hands off.

      Shoving them inside his pockets, he scanned the room, his gaze searching the people either standing in small groups or gyrating to the rock music on the small dance floor. Where the hell was she?

      Keeping an eye on her was his obligation, wasn’t it? Because he’d invited her tonight, because he was her boss, and most of all, because he’d known her and her family since Lucy still had training wheels on her bicycle.

      Before adulthood had given her hips and smooth, curvy legs and that seductive smile that had him heading toward her for the intercept. Blame it on his cop intuition again.

      Then Carlo’s gaze narrowed and a skitter of irritation shot up his spine. No wonder he was on edge. Take a look at her dance partner! Long shaggy hair, pierced eyebrow, motorcycle boots. He picked up his pace.

      Consequently, he was nearby when a wild spin took her into his territory. Carlo caught her in his arms.

      Her face flushed, she looked up at him. “Oh.”

      His hands slid from her shoulders to her hips. He’d held that sweet curve of hers before—and had had trouble keeping his mind focused on Claudia and business.

      He squeezed. There was the smallest give to her flesh and his fingers sank into it as he took a deep breath of her tempting, female scent. “You ran away from me,” he said.

      “Ran away? Carlo, I didn’t know you cared,” she teased. Her lashes dropped, and she gave him another one of those flirtatious, womanly glances.

      Just like that, his male instincts overrode his inner cop talk, causing his palms to slide up her curves to her waist as he drew her nearer. “Lucy…”

       Lucy!

      His hands dropped. This was Lucy, and she was here as his family friend, his temporary employee, as someone he should be looking after, not looking to touch.

      She used her new freedom to sketch him a wave before twirling back onto the dance floor and into the proximity of the grinning possible felon, who then grabbed her by the hand. Irritation spiking again, Carlo elbowed the man standing beside him.

      “Excuse me. Do you know that guy over there?”

      “Huh?”

      “The