That Boss Of Mine. Elizabeth Bevarly

along. And although Audrey thought she’d been doing great at her job as a grocery store cashier, coming up short fifteen thousand dollars and change that night just didn’t look good on a person’s permanent record.

      And as for her boyfriend, well, she would just as soon forget about him. There was nothing like having a guy tell you you were cold as a dead fish to make you think twice about getting involved again. Of course, Brad hadn’t exactly been a pep-rally bonfire himself, Audrey reminded herself, which was only one of the many reasons she’d avoided becoming too intimately involved with him. Still, a woman liked to think that a man would have some regrets about dumping her. But Brad, evidently, would always think of her as sushi.

      So with all her bad luck of late—and of her whole life—Audrey didn’t really expect that a change of jobs would do anything about the dark cloud of misfortune that had followed her everywhere she’d ever gone from the day she’d been born—breech and thirteen days late. It was a family curse, common knowledge. All the Finnegans were unlucky, all the way back to her great-grandmother Fiona Finnegan, who fell off the boat that arrived in New York Harbor at the turn of the century.

      Literally. She fell off the boat, right into the water. It had been the beginning of a looong line of Finnegan bad luck. Klutzy, ditzy, jinxed, hexed—those were all words that Audrey had heard used to describe her family over the years. And, carrying on the family tradition, she, too, was little more than a bad-luck charm. Wherever she wenteth, mishap followedeth. To put it in the vernacular, she, like the rest of her family, was not exactly a child of fortune. Nothing ever went right for the Finnegans.

      Still, she reconsidered as she eyed her new employer, maybe she was due for a spurt of good luck for a change. If nothing else, Mr. Wheeler would be infinitely more appealing to look at than Manny the bag boy had been.

      “Um,” he said, by way of response to her earlier question about where to begin. “I suppose I could show you around the office.”

      Audrey arced her gaze around the room, taking in one elevated design table with halogen lamp, one high stool of unmistakable saloon origin and numerous boxes holding numerous files. It wasn’t much different from what she’d encountered in the outer office—one generic desk with off-off- off-brand computer, and more boxes full of files. “Okay,” she said, wondering what more there might be to Rush Commercial Designs, Inc.

      “This,” Mr. Wheeler said, throwing his arms open wide, “is my office. That—” he waved a hand toward the design table “—is my work area and is not to be touched under any circumstances. Those—” he gestured toward the boxes “—are my files, likewise to be left alone. Out there—” he pointed toward the door through which she’d entered “—is the reception area, where you’ll be working. Beyond that and down the hall—” this time he waved his hand, as if striving to indicate great distance “—there’s a small washroom. It’s near the door to the street, where you first came in.”

      That evidently concluded the tour, Audrey thought, because Mr. Wheeler didn’t say anything more.

      “Mind if I take a closer look at my desk?” she asked. “My telephone? My computer terminal?”

      He must have misunderstood the question, because his expression became absolutely crestfallen, and he dropped his hands to his sides in a posture she could only describe as thoroughly defeated. “Didn’t you see them when you first came in? Don’t tell me Bruno took those, too. Hell, those were paid for.”

      “Who’s Bruno?” she asked as she scrambled to follow Mr. Wheeler out of the office, thinking it was the only remark he’d made that she didn’t quite understand.

      Too late she realized he had halted only a few steps beyond the door, and, having hastened her step to catch up with him, she barreled into him at a pretty fast clip. Upon impact Mr. Wheeler went bolting forward, stumbling, landing on all fours on the floor. Audrey moved immediately to help him up, but she twisted her ankle just as she was reaching out to him and went hurtling forward herself. Before she knew what has happening, she had landed on his back, straddling him, perched the way a child might be when sitting astride a favorite uncle for a pony ride.

      For one split second neither of them moved. Then Mr. Wheeler abruptly spun his body around, landed deftly on his fanny and caught Audrey capably in his lap. He narrowed his eyes at her, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of a woman who would ride her boss like a horse. And as she met his gaze, Audrey’s heart went pitty-pat, pitty-pat, pitty-pat. And then he smiled, a halfhearted little smile that indicated he wasn’t all that put off by their situation. After that, her heart went zing-zing-zing-zing-zing.

      Oh, my.

      He had caught her by the waist, and now his hands were planted firmly atop each of her hips. Only then did Audrey notice that his thumbs were idly grazing the bare skin revealed between her skirt and her top. Braving a glance down, she realized that her clothing was too revealing for mixed company given her new posture. Her skirt was hiked up far enough on one side to reveal the lace of her red panties through the hose beneath. Her sweater, too, was riding high, though thankfully not high enough to underscore the scant red brassiere beneath it.

      Thinking back, she supposed she could have chosen something a little less revealing for her first day on the job. But the late-March morning had been surprisingly balmy, and after months of cold, damp winter, she’d longed to feel the warm breeze on as much of her body as she could. Plus, she’d wanted to make a good impression on her new boss. Plus, she’d really been in a red mood today.

      Then again, there wasn’t much in her wardrobe that wasn’t revealing. Having started off as a chunky kid, then having bloomed into a chubby adolescent, Audrey had worked and sweated for most of her adult years to drop her weight. Now at twenty-eight years, five feet nine inches, and 127 pounds, she liked to show herself off.

      Hey, if you’ve got it, flaunt it, right? she’d thought. Especially if you didn’t have much else going for you. Now, however, she was beginning to think that maybe she shouldn’t have flaunted it quite so majorly in Mr. Wheeler’s direction.

      As if he’d read her mind, he cleared his throat indelicately, scattering her thoughts. But with her mind emptied, her insides went all muddled and warm, because she realized he still had both hands around her naked waist. Even more troubling, she had tangled her fingers in the crisp white fabric of his shirt, and beneath her fingertips his heart fairly hummed with anticipation. As discreetly as she could, Audrey unwound the fingers of one hand and moved them to his shoulder. But that only brought into stark, raving focus the chiseled, well-defined musculature lurking beneath.

      Simply put, her boss was built. And somehow she found herself wondering if maybe they couldn’t just spend the rest of the day sitting in the middle of the floor this way, just exploring each other’s bodies. Hey, it gave a whole new meaning to employee orientation.

      “We, uh, we don’t seem to be having a good day, do we?” he said softly, breaking the odd spell that had begun to descend around them.

      Speak for yourself, Audrey thought. This had been the best day she’d had in a long, long time. However, she did concede, “I guess we’re not really starting off as well as we could be.”

      He nodded at that but did nothing to alter their position on the floor. Instead, he only continued to gaze into her eyes as if he were looking for something very important there. A warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the warble of the spring breeze rippling through the open door and everything to do with the gentle back-and-forth motion of her employer’s thumbs across her bare skin.

      Her employer. Oh, gosh. Oh, no. Oh, jeez.

      Finally it registered on Audrey just how badly she had started off her first day on the job. With as much grace as she could manage, which, granted, under the circumstances wasn’t much, she pushed herself up from her boss’s lap. That, unfortunately, left her kneeling before him—pretty much the second worst position to be in with one’s employer, right after riding him like a pony. Hurriedly she tugged her skirt back down around her thighs as best she could.

      Mental note, Audrey, she told