Who's the Boss? & Her Perfect Stranger: Who's The Boss? / Her Perfect Stranger. Jill Shalvis

      “Well, I beat you in,” Caitlin announced, obviously expecting a medal.

      “You should,” he said, watching her wiggle up to her knees in the tightest, shortest, reddest skirt he’d ever seen. How had she gotten into that thing? “It’s ten o’clock. What the hell are you doing?”

      “Filing.” She slapped her hands together to rid them of dust. “This place is a disaster. Don’t you ever clean?”

      “No, and I knew where everything is…was,” he protested, trying not to panic.

      “It’ll be better,” she promised him. “You’ll see.”

      He doubted that and was about to tell her so but his phone rang. He watched, fascinated, as Caitlin stood and yanked down the short little jacket that matched her siren-red skirt before scooping up the receiver. “Hello?” Quickly, she covered the mouthpiece and batted her warm brown eyes at Joe. “Should I tell them this is CompuSoft?” she asked in a loud whisper. “Or is that redundant, do you think, since they called us and they most likely know who it is they dialed?” She bit her full, red bottom lip in indecision.

      “Just find out who it is,” Joe suggested through his teeth. “That might be a good place to start.”

      She nodded quite seriously and turned back to the phone. “Yes, who is this, please?” Her brow creased in concentration. Her hair settled around her flushed face. Then she lit up with the most dazzling smile Joe had ever seen. “Oh, isn’t that sweet of you,” she gushed. “I’m sure he’d love that, yes. Thanks so much.” She hung up the phone and dropped back to her knees amid the mess she’d created all over his floor.

      Joe found himself once again staring at her very cute wriggling butt. “Caitlin.” His voice came out slightly strangled, and he had no idea if it were irritation or something more basic, such as his own software became hardware.

      She stopped wriggling and smiled at him. “Yes, Mr. Brownley?”

      He knew for a damn fact she was only eight years younger than him and she was calling him mister. “Joe.”

      “Okay. Joe.” She turned back to whatever the hell it was she thought she was doing.

      “Who was on the phone?” he demanded.

      “Oh. AT&T.” She sent him that same dazzling smile, the one that did funny things to his knees. “They’re going to send you a one-hundred-dollar credit for switching to their service for a trial period of two weeks. Isn’t that sweet of them? Though you probably shouldn’t have left them in the first place. I understand from that nice operator I just spoke with they have the best prices in the country.”

      Joe closed his eyes briefly and reminded himself that though he relied only on himself, rarely allowing another into his life, he had loved Edmund. He owed the man, and this woman—this crazy, out-of-control, messy woman—was his debt. “I’ll be in my office,” he managed to say finally.

      She sent him a vague smile from where she was shuffling papers—his papers—around. “No problem.”

      As he turned to go, he tripped over her pumps, again.

      * * *

      SHE COULD DO THIS, Caitlin told herself. No problem. She’d gone through most of her life figuring things out by herself. She’d dealt with the death of her mother all those years ago. She’d dealt with traveling alone, celebrating holidays alone, generally being completely alone.

      She could certainly answer a few phones and straighten up an office, especially since she didn’t have much choice.

      The bills had to be paid. She’d come home the night before to several messages from credit collectors.

      They were getting nasty.

      The phones had been blissfully quiet for a while. So had the men, though they were checking on her often, which brought a smile. They were so sweet.

      Except for Joe. No one in their right mind would call that powerfully built thug, masquerading as a mild-mannered computer geek, sweet.

      She headed down the hallway to the small lunchroom, which held a refrigerator, a microwave, a sink and counter and a small table with chairs.

      She glanced at the coffee machine and grimaced. Empty, of course. It would never occur to whoever had taken the last cup to make more. Automatically, her hostess skills leaping to life, she made the coffee. Then, because the room was disgusting, she cleaned it. Maybe, she thought as she scrubbed, she’d been looking at this all wrong. She was an organizer, and these men certainly needed her.

      Needed her.

      The mere idea stopped her cold. And warmed her heart. No one had ever needed her before.

      “How’s it going?”

      Caitlin, her eyes still misty, smiled at Vince as he came in. “Good.” She finished with the sponge on the counter and started sweeping.

      “Really?” He didn’t look convinced; he looked worried. “I should congratulate you. You made it past the dreaded two-hour mark without quitting.”

      She thought of her late car payments. Of her rent, which was late, as well. She tried not to think of the stack of bills she’d filed away under her kitchen sink so she wouldn’t have to look at them. “Oh, I’m not going to quit,” she said with certainty.

      “Well, that’s a relief. You’re like a ray of sunshine around here.”

      Caitlin glanced quickly at him, trying to decide if that had been a come-on. She’d become a pro at spotting them since she’d gotten curves at the tender age of twelve. But Vince simply smiled kindly. With that shock of deep red hair and Clark Kent–type glasses slipping down his nose, he was really kind of cute.

      But Caitlin had decided long ago, the cute ones were rarely harmless. “That’s me, just a ray of sunshine. I’m so bright you need sunglasses to look at me.”

      Vince laughed, but didn’t make a move to come closer. Unbearably relieved to find someone genuinely nice, Caitlin relaxed. “Is it always so…uptight around here?” She graduated back to the sponge and wiped down the table that had an inch of grime on it.

      “You mean Joe.” Vince shook his head and leaned back against the sink, watching her clean with fascination. “He’s just preoccupied. Ignore him. It’s the best way.” He frowned. “He didn’t hurt your feelings, I hope, because he would hate that. He just doesn’t have a wide focus. Work is pretty much all he concentrates on, and he really hates it when things get in the way of that.”

      “Well, someone should mention that work isn’t everything in life.”

      “You handled him well.”

      “If that was well done, I’d hate to see him when he isn’t handled properly.”

      “He’s a good guy, Caitlin. Really. He’s just under pressure right now. And he just lost Edmund—” He stopped, horrified. Color flooded his face. “I’m sorry. He was your father, so you know exactly how much Joe is hurting.”

      Yes, she knew and the thought of Joe mourning her father disconcerted and warmed her at the same time.

      Joseph’s grieving brought an image she hadn’t anticipated and didn’t know if she was ready to accept. “Which would explain how chipper he’s been.”

      Vince let out a smile. “Well…truth is, he’s just about always that way.”

      “But the rest of you—you and Tim and Andy—you’re all so nice and welcoming. How do you do it?”

      “Tim and Andy are really great. We’ve all been friends since…well, forever.”

      How wonderful those sort of ties must be. There was no one in her past with whom she kept in contact. “Tell me about all of you.”

      Vince laughed without embarrassment.