In Love with Her Boss. Christie Ridgway

now, but he felt better seeing her off himself.

      Someone dropped to the bench beside him. Josh kept pumping the weights, thinking about how Lori had looked beneath the new light the night before, her nose pinking with the cold, her dark hair curling against her cheek. He’d had to hold himself back from placing his palm there. Worse, he’d yet to shake the feeling that part of her wanted him to do that very thing.

      “Hell, Josh,” said a familiar voice. “I said ‘good morning’ and I’ve been sitting here for five minutes waiting for a response, but you haven’t done anything but grunt and sweat.”

      Jerked from his reverie, Josh turned his head. “Oh. Andy. Hey.” He’d known Andy McKenna for a dozen years.

      Andy picked up a couple of nearby dumbbells and started his own set of curls. “What’s eating you?”

      Josh let his weights slip to the floor. His arm muscles burned. “The usual.”

      Andy looked over. “A work problem?”

      “Woman problem.”

      Thud-thud. Andy’s weights dropped. So did his jaw. “You’re kidding, right?”

      “Why would you say that?” Josh asked.

      “Because, buddy, you haven’t let yourself have a woman problem, not once, in the last five years.”

      Since Kay’s death, Andy meant. Josh shifted on the bench, stretching out his legs to inspect the laces of his cross-trainers. It was true. He hadn’t felt the need for anything more than the most casual relationships with women since then. Nothing heavy enough to be classified a problem. He grunted. “I have one now.”

      “Well, hallelujah,” Andy said. “Good ol’ Josh has a woman problem.”

      Josh shot the other man a look. “Gee, thanks.”

      He grinned. “Misery loves company and all that. So tell Dear Andy the problem. Is the lady married? Does she have a boyfriend?”

      “No.” As he’d walked her to her car that first night, Josh had wondered that himself. But she’d said she hadn’t come to Whitehorn to be with a man. He ran a hand over his damp hair. “Andy, you know when a woman’s interested, right?”

      “Hmm.” The other man reached for the dumbbells he’d dropped. “Well, I’ve made my share of blunders over the years, but I’d say that now I’m pretty good at distinguishing between a smile and a, well, smile.”

      “And how old are you?” Josh asked.

      “Thirty-five.”

      Younger than Josh, which meant he couldn’t rule out that pre-midlife crisis condition.

      “Geez, Josh.” Andy stopped lifting again. “You look serious. What the hell’s the matter?”

      Josh shook his head. “I—”

      Andy’s low whistle interrupted him. “Wow. Would you look at that.” With his chin, he gestured toward the glass wall in front of them, the wall through which they could see the basketball courts and the running track surrounding them.

      A woman was stretching in the far lane of one curve. “‘That,”’ said Josh. “Is precisely my problem. Lori Hanson, my temporary receptionist.”

      “Oh, buddy.” Andy gazed on him with pity. “I don’t blame you. She looks like trouble.” He switched his gaze back to the track, where Lori was now starting her run. “Uh-oh. Wouldn’t you know it, Wily Rick Weber is on the scent.”

      Ahead of Lori on the track, a lean, curly-haired man paused and bent over, as if his shoe needed retying. It was only too obvious to Josh that the other runner had noticed Lori and was waiting for her to catch up to him.

      Andy snorted. “Is he always the first to sniff out new prey, or what?”

      Josh lifted the hem of his T-shirt to wipe the sweat out of his eyes, then leaned forward. How would Lori respond to the ever-charming Wily Rick?

      She didn’t.

      Even though Rick timed it so that he started jogging again just as Lori reached him, even though he smiled whitely, oozing friendliness that Josh could feel even through the plate glass, Lori didn’t even glance at the other man. As a matter of fact, she picked up her pace, causing Wily to have to leap forward in order to keep up with her.

      His mouth moved. Probably saying something witty, Josh thought. Something far more interesting than “Ms. Hanson, find me the Feeney file, please.” But she responded to Rick with even fewer syllables and less animation that she did when Josh spoke.

      Surprise crossed Rick’s oh-so-slick and handsome face, and he slowed a bit, letting Lori get ahead. Strike one for Wily.

      “Well,” Andy said. “Rick hasn’t bowled her over.”

      “Neither have I,” Josh muttered.

      And just like Josh himself, Rick didn’t find it easy to give up on Lori either. As Josh watched, the other man caught up with her again and tried to start another conversation. Her slight grimace made clear, to Josh anyway, that she didn’t appreciate Wily’s second attempt.

      Josh stood up. “I’m going to take a few laps myself,” he told Andy.

      The other man’s grin was knowing. “You do that. But be careful. I haven’t seen you chasing—I mean running—in a long time, old friend.”

      Josh didn’t look back. He wasn’t chasing. He was going after Lori to make sure Wily wasn’t annoying her, not because of the apparently one-sided attraction he had for her. That attraction he was determined to put a lid on, because it would be hell on his brain and his business if it was allowed to simmer unchecked for the remainder of Lucy’s maternity leave.

      Just as Josh jogged onto the track, Wily jogged off, a look of baffled disappointment on his face. He didn’t even acknowledge Josh’s two-fingered salute. It wasn’t often Rick struck out, and it looked as if it was going to take him some time to recover.

      Josh was smiling when he caught up with Lori. He brushed off the niggling notion that his entire reason for joining her was now heading for the men’s showers. “Good morning,” he said.

      She looked over at him, her eyes widening, then she trained her gaze back on the track in front of her. “Good morning, Mr. Anderson.”

      “Josh.”

      She made another of those maddening, absent hmms that she liked to torture him with.

      “Well. How are you this morning?”

      “Fine.” She didn’t look at him.

      “I, um, thought I’d let you know that I’m stopping off at the Feeney site before I come into the office this morning.”

      “All right.”

      When he thought about it, maybe he should still bring up Rick and his attempts at flirtation. He hesitated, then plunged in, unable to come up with some way to ease into the subject. “I saw Rick talking to you,” he said.

      “Who?”

      “Wil—Rick Weber. The curly-haired guy who was running with you.”

      “Oh. Him.”

      The little breeze they generated running caused her peach scent to waft enticingly over Josh’s face. He tried not breathing through his nose. “He’s okay, but he has a reputation for two-timing.”

      Now she looked at him, her expression bewildered. “Why would you tell me that?”

      So I could feel my feet grow five sizes larger, Josh thought. But he went on doggedly. “I just thought you should know because…I, well… Well, he was hitting on you.”

      “I’m not interested in him.”

      “Good.” She shot him a look,