Wanted by the Boss: Sleeping with the Boss / Cowboy Boss / Billionaire Boss. Maureen Child

      ‘‘She is.’’ She reached up to push her hair behind her ears. The silver hoops winked at him in the sunlight. ‘‘And she misses you. You should stop and see her sometime.’’

      ‘‘I will,’’ he said, meaning it. Maggie Ryan had been a second grandmother to him. It shamed him to admit that he hadn’t kept up with her.

      ‘‘How’s your gran?’’

      ‘‘In Florida,’’ he said, grinning. ‘‘To catch the space shuttle launch next week.’’

      Eileen turned and leaned one hip on the edge of her desk. ‘‘She was always doing something exciting, as I remember it.’’

      Rick smiled to himself. His grandmother had always been one for grand adventures. ‘‘I think she was actually born a gypsy and then sold to a normal family as a baby.’’

      Eileen shrugged and that fabulous hair actually rippled with light and color. ‘‘What’s normal?’’

      ‘‘Beats the hell outta me,’’ he admitted. He’d once thought he knew what normal was. It was everything he didn’t have. A regular family with a mom and a dad. A house with a picket fence and a big sloppy dog to play with. Dreams and plans and everything else he’d worked so hard to acquire. But now he wasn’t so sure.

      For some people, Rick thought, ‘‘normal’’ just never came into play. And that was okay with him now that he’d come to grips with the fact that he was a member of that particular group. He’d tried to find that normalcy once. He’d married a woman he thought loved him as much as he cared for her. By the time he’d figured out how wrong he was, she’d left, taking half of his business with her.

      And his ability to trust went with her.

      ‘‘So.’’ Eileen’s voice cut into his thoughts and he turned his attention back to her, gratefully. ‘‘What exactly is it you need me to do?’’

      ‘‘Right.’’ Good idea, he told himself. Stick to business here. Just because their families were friendly was no reason for them to treat this situation as anything more than strictly business. Better all the way around, he thought as his gaze slipped back to her and he felt his blood thicken. Yep. A long two weeks.

      Rick walked to the desk and stopped behind it. ‘‘Mainly, I need you to take care of the phones, take messages and type up a few reports for me when necessary.’’

      ‘‘So basically, you want me to stick my finger in a dyke and keep the place from flooding until you can get someone in here permanently.’’

      ‘‘Well, yeah, that’s one way to put it.’’ Rick pushed the edges of his navy-blue suit jacket back and shoved his hands into his pants pockets. ‘‘With Margo out early on maternity leave, the place is falling apart and the temp agency can’t send me anyone for another two weeks at least.’’

      ‘‘Whoa—’’ Eileen held up one hand as she stared at him. Okay, she could admit, to herself anyway, that Rick Hawkins was a little…more than she’d expected. For some reason, even after that glimpse of him six years ago her mind had kept his image as he was at sixteen. Tall and lanky, with messy brown hair and a crooked smile. Well, that smile was there, but he wasn’t lanky anymore. He was built like a man who knew what the inside of a gym looked like.

      And his voice sounded like melted chocolate tasted.

      So sure, she was female enough to be distracted. A lot. Until he’d used the words ‘‘at least’’. She wasn’t about to let herself get sucked into giving him more than the agreed-on time.

      ‘‘At least?’’ she repeated. ‘‘I can only do this for two weeks, Rick. Then I turn back into a pumpkin and head back out to Larkspur.’’

      ‘‘Larkspur?’’

      ‘‘My shop.’’ Her pride and joy. The spot she’d worked so hard to build.

      ‘‘Oh that’s right. Grandma said you worked at a flower shop.’’

      ‘‘I own a flower shop. Small, exclusive, with an emphasis on design.’’ She reached across the desk for her purse, rummaged in its depths for a second or two, then came up with a brass card case. Flipping it open, she pulled out a card and handed it to him. Pale blue linen, the card stock was heavy, and the printing was embossed. A lone stalk of delicate-looking flowers curled around the left-hand side, looping around the name Larkspur. Eileen’s name and phone number were discreetly added at the bottom.

      ‘‘Very nice,’’ Rick said, lifting his gaze back to hers as he automatically tucked the card into his breast pocket.

      ‘‘Thanks. We do good work. You should give us a try.’’

      ‘‘I will.’’ A heartbeat or two passed and the silence in the room dragged on, getting thicker, heavier, warmer. Something indefinable sizzled in the air between them and Rick told himself to put a lid on it. He’d never made a play for a co-worker before and now certainly wasn’t the time to start. Not when he would have two grandmothers out for his head if Eileen complained.

      ‘‘Anyway,’’ he said, his voice a little louder than he’d planned, ‘‘two weeks will be great. I’m sure the temp agency will come through for me.’’

      ‘‘There’re plenty of temp agencies out there. Why not try a different one?’’

      He shook his head. ‘‘I’ve tried lots of them. This one always sends good people. Most of them don’t. I’d rather wait.’’

      ‘‘Why didn’t you get someone lined up before Margo left?’’

      ‘‘Good question,’’ he said wryly. ‘‘Should have. But I was so busy trying to get things done and finished before she was gone, that time sort of got away from me. And then in the last month or so, Margo wasn’t her usual organized self.’’

      ‘‘She probably had more important things on her mind.’’

      ‘‘I suppose.’’ His trusty secretary-assistant had left him high and dry even before her last day of work. Margo’s normally brilliant brain had dissolved into a sea of pregnancy hormones and daydreams of pitter-pattering feet. He couldn’t wait for her to give birth so things could get back to normal. ‘‘I’m just glad she’s going to come back to work after she has the kid.’’

      ‘‘That’s a shame,’’ Eileen said.

      ‘‘Huh?’’ He looked at her. ‘‘Why?’’

      ‘‘Well, because if I had a baby, I’d want to be able to stay home and take care of it myself.’’ Eileen set her purse down again, walked around the edge of the desk and nudged him out of the way so she could sit down in the blue leather desk chair. ‘‘I mean, I know lots of women have to work, but if you don’t have to…’’

      ‘‘Margo would go nuts without something to do with her day,’’ he argued, recalling his secretary’s gung-ho attitude. ‘‘She likes being busy.’’

      ‘‘I hear babies can keep you plenty busy.’’

      He shuddered at the thought of Margo turning into a stay-at-home mom. ‘‘Don’t say that. She has to come back to work. She runs this place.’’

      ‘‘She probably will then,’’ Eileen said and opened the top drawer, inspecting, looking around, familiarizing herself with the setup. ‘‘I’m just saying…’’

      ‘‘Don’t say it again. You’ll jinx it.’’

      ‘‘Very mature.’’ She shut the drawer and opened another one, poking through the pads and boxes of pencils and even a bag of candy Margo had left behind. Pulling one piece free, she peeled off the silver foil and popped the chocolate into her mouth. ‘‘Do we have a coffee pot?’’