Sleeping With the Boss Page 3

  “How are you holding up?” his brother asked.

  His plate was suddenly interesting. “Fine.”

  “Liar.”

  Will met his brother’s pale, clear eyes. He was right. He wasn’t fine. Far from it, but there was nothing his brother or anyone else could do about it. Will needed more time. He hadn’t even been back a year yet, hardly long enough to rid his lungs of the sand and his eyes of the crosshair shadows from the scope on his rifle. Not to mention the scars left on his heart. “I’m better.”

  Chance nodded. “Okay. Better is good. Have you seen her?”

  “Beth?”

  “No, the tooth fairy, you asshole.” He rolled his eyes. “Yes, Beth. I’m worried about you. Don’t make me fish for information.”

  “The last time I saw her face-to-face was when I was deployed for the last time. It’s been over two years since then. Eight months since she stood me up at the airport. No, I haven’t seen her. I don’t plan to.” He realized he was almost shouting and took a moment to calm down. On the day his plane was scheduled to land from his last tour of duty, Beth, in her usual socialite fashion, went to the press and ended their engagement publicly, and then didn’t greet him at the airport. The press gobbled up the high-profile breakup. He’d found out he’d been jilted by reading about it in the fucking paper. He would never trust Beth or any woman ever again. Hell, he’d had his whole life planned around her. Giving his heart like that was risky, and the payoff wasn’t worth it. Casual dating was one thing, but he vowed to never have another long-term girlfriend again. And he would never, ever allow himself to fall in love. One broken heart was enough for his lifetime and ten others.

  “She’s been asking around about you. I think things didn’t work out with Mr. Wonderful and she’s sniffing around again.”

  “She can sniff all she likes, she’ll never take another bite out of me. No woman will again.” He had to change the subject before he lost his cool. “Tell me about the new acquisitions that came in while I was away.”

  And while he listened to his brother describe the new pieces he didn’t give a shit about, he decided it was best he stay away from the office for the rest of the day until his obsession with Claire Maddox and her pink thong had ended or was at least under control. Interest this intense was dangerous. Will was all about avoiding danger these days.

  …

  “I was surprised when you called me,” Heather said, pulling a set of plasticware out of the bin and handing it to Claire. “I hope this doesn’t mean our girls’ night out for tomorrow is canceled.”

  “No, I’m still on. I just needed a rescue today.” Oops. Poor word choice.

  They moved up in the line as a family got their sandwiches and cleared out in front of them. “And what, pray tell, sweet Claire, did you need me to rescue you from?”

  Myself.

  “Is Michael Anderson behaving badly?” She wagged her eyebrows. “I hope so.”

  Claire ordered her salad and then turned to gawk at her friend. “No. I just needed to get away. I felt cooped up.”

  “Oh, sure you did.”

  Part of her wanted to tell Heather about Will Anderson, but for some reason, she held back. Talking about her hot, smart, funny, dirty-talking boss would only encourage Heather to push her for more information. She accepted her salad from the girl behind the counter and staked out a table by the window. She needed sunlight. What she really needed was out of this city, but that was happening soon enough. So soon, she could almost taste it.

  Heather plopped into the chair across the tiny table and took a huge bite of her corned beef sandwich. The sun made her red curls glow. Claire wished she could have the sassy self-confidence her friend had. Biting back a smile, she remembered her banter with Will Anderson today. She’d been far sassier in those few minutes with him than she’d been in the previous five years combined. He had brought out something in her she’d missed: fun. And she wanted more of it.

  No. He was her boss. Her rich, sexy boss, for God’s sake. And way too perfect for someone like her. The Claire-ism potential was way off the scale.

  Heather took another bite of sandwich and studied Claire as she chewed. “Okay, so since this surprise lunch isn’t agenda-driven, I guess we’ll talk about business as usual, dammit.”

  Claire grinned, glad to fall into a familiar conversation with her best friend…her only friend. “How’s work?”

  “Good. Had three new candidates come in this morning. I cleared out my schedule this afternoon, though, because I’m taking Brian to the movie.”

  “How’s Brian doing?” Heather hadn’t mentioned her nephew in a while. Claire always marveled at the little boy’s spirit. He was just as friendly now as he was before the chemo started.

  “He’s doing good, health-wise.” Heather shook her head. “But his dad lost his job a year ago, as you know. They lost insurance benefits last month. The meds are really expensive. They’re trying to get assistance, but they have to scramble in the meantime.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She gave a weak smile. “We’re working it out.”

  Claire moved her lettuce around on the plate, finding the cherry tomato she’d seen hiding earlier and popping it in her mouth while Heather poured another sugar into her tea.

  “How’s work other than the topic you’re avoiding, specifically the smokin’ hot Anderson brothers?”

  “I’m typing up a brochure on some Greek urns. Wanna see?” She pulled up the picture she had sent to her phone. Heather had majored in history and completely geeked out over the stuff coming through the auction house just like she did. In fact, they had met in undergrad in an early civilizations class and had become fast friends over a mutual love of all things Egyptian. Other than a brief gig with a small antiques shop, Heather was unable to get a job with her history degree, so she took over and eventually bought out her sister’s employment agency.

  “Nice.” Heather handed the phone back. “Have you started boxing up and selling Sissy’s place?”

  Claire stabbed a piece of romaine, then dropped her fork. “I can’t seem to make myself do it. I know I need to put the apartment on the market and move on, but…” Her salad became a blur on her plate. “It’s really hard, you know.”

  “Oh, hon.” Heather scooted her chair next to Claire’s with a metallic screech and then wrapped her arm around her shoulder. “It’s time to do something for yourself now. You did nothing but nurse sick people full-time.”

  “Not full-time. I got my degrees.”

  “Oh, yeah. You left to go to classes a couple of hours a day, four days a week. Big whoop-de-doo. Then you returned home to take care of your grandparents. You’ve taken care of people your whole life, pretty much. It’s time you took care of yourself. Cut free. Do something fun and reckless.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like get laid.”

  Claire choked on the mouthful of water, and covered her mouth and nose with a napkin while Heather laughed.

  “I’m serious. How long has it been? You haven’t dated anyone since that asshole Eric.”

  It had been over a year, but until she laid eyes on hunky Will Anderson, her abstinence hadn’t even crossed her mind. Well, the sorry state of her nonexistent sex life was front and center now, which was why she was hiding in a deli with Heather, rather than eating lunch in the office like she usually did. One more close encounter with Will, and she’d be ripping her skirt seam on purpose.

  “Are you still scheduled to leave for Egypt in two weeks? Have you packed yet?”

  “That won’t take long. It makes no difference whether it’s a month or a year, I’ll only take what I can carry at one time by myself. I’m still waiting on the money and my passport.”

  Heather moved her chair back around to face her. “I still can’t get over the size of the life insurance policy Sissy left you. It makes me feel a little better about you throwing your prime years away.”

  “I didn’t throw anything away. I woul
d have cared for Grandpa and Sissy for nothing. In fact, I didn’t even know about the money until the will was probated.”

  “I bet that was a shock.” Heather made a squeaking sound. “You’ll be rich.”

  And completely alone. “Yeah.”

  Heather glanced at her phone. “Oh, shit. I have a one o’clock appointment. Gotta go.” She kissed her on the cheek, gathered her bag, and headed out the door like she’d been lit on fire. Heather never did anything halfway.

  People on the street passed outside the deli window in a blur as Claire stared into space and fiddled with her salad. Maybe Heather was right. Maybe she needed to do something fun and reckless for once. And maybe, just maybe, that fun and reckless thing should involve her new, hotter-than-molten-lava boss, William Anderson.

  She sighed at the mortifying level of Claire-ism potential that held. So many things could go wrong, and she couldn’t afford to leave this job until the life insurance policy paid out. She had bills to pay. Nope. Not going to happen. Always-responsible Claire would remain…responsible.

  Chapter Four

  Claire’s Tuesday-morning commute was as uneventful as her Will-free Monday afternoon had been. For the first time, she’d arrived on time with no Claire-isms at all. Not even her usual tripping over her own feet as she descended the stairs to the subway. And she hoped, as she slipped behind her desk with time to spare, it wasn’t the sign that a real doozy of a Claire-ism was on the way.

  She glanced through her open door at the mahogany entrance to the office across the lobby. The older secretary, Mildred something-or-other, knocked, then entered carrying a large blue coffee mug. It was Michael Anderson’s office, but it was also Will’s home base yesterday morning before he disappeared. Her heart beat a little harder at the thought that he might be in the building. Maybe she should close her door and try to push him out of her mind. Yes. That was a sound plan. Stop spying on the office across the hall and put an end to the mental shenanigans centered on Will Anderson. God knew she’d had plenty of that in her sleep last night. Every dream featured him, and man, what a show her subconscious had put on. Her entire body heated just remembering it.

  “Stop thinking about him,” she scolded herself as she crossed her small office to close the door right as those across the lobby opened, revealing a rumpled and more-than-sexy Will Anderson holding the blue coffee mug. God, he looked like he’d stepped right out of last night’s dreams and into the lobby.

  Like a deer in the headlights, she froze. So did he. And for a long, odd moment, they simply stared at each other. If attraction could be made tangible, the entire lobby would have crackled with lightning bolts. And then, it would have ended with a sonic blast because he gave her the biggest, sexiest dimpled grin imaginable. A jolt of lust shot straight from her navel to every part of her body, even her freaking toes.

  “Ka-boom,” she whispered as she closed the door. So much for a Claire-ism free morning.

  …

  What the hell was that? Will wondered, heart like a jackhammer pounding in his chest. He stared at Claire’s closed office door and shook his head to clear it. It had been like a scene from one of those silly animated movies where the animals sing and the world melts away while the loving couple make goo-goo eyes. Thank God Michael was out of town and Chance hadn’t made it in yet. If they’d seen it, he’d never live it down. He took a swallow of coffee and shook his head again. His mission was to uncover a spy, and here he was lusting over the number one suspect. Not good.

  After another cup of coffee and a shower and shave in Michael’s executive bathroom, Will put on some fresh clothes he’d picked up from home yesterday afternoon and went to the small Anderson security office on the floor below to study the video footage from the past three weeks. It irritated him that the first thing he had done when exiting Michael’s office was check out Claire’s office to see if he could get a glimpse of her. It irritated him even more that he was disappointed her door was still closed.

  After several hours poring over security video, Will found nothing out of the ordinary. He looked at his watch. Based on the video footage, Claire Maddox left her office about this time for her lunch break. He stared at the monitor that caught most of the lobby, including her office door. After several minutes, she exited her office, pausing for a moment and staring toward Michael’s office door, then turned right, away from the lobby.

  Even seeing her in black and white on a small monitor caused his body to react. This would trouble him in an ordinary situation, but it was maddening since she was a focus of his investigation. Will had learned to trust his gut in the military, and everything in him rebelled against the notion she was the spy. He had to trust that feeling, and he did. He was convinced Claire was innocent. Sure, she had some missing pieces in her personnel file, but so could just about anyone in a temp position, especially being the agency owner’s friend. She’d likely never held down a long-term job since graduating from college.

  She disappeared from view on his screen, then appeared in the next as she made her way down the hallway to the lunchroom. But instead of walking to the end of the hall, she looked around as if making sure nobody was watching, then slipped inside the file room, shutting the door behind her.

  Will held his breath and studied the screen feeding from the file room. The camera was trained on the back of the space where the important, locked files and the vault doors were located. Claire was not in the camera’s line of vision. What the hell was a temp doing in the file room? None of her job duties would involve business in that area.

  His stomach twisted for a moment as he watched the screen. Still, nothing. It was like she had disappeared. He bolted from the office to the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time. Surely his instincts weren’t that far off. Claire had seemed so straightforward and real. But then, so had Beth… He marched ahead and yanked open the door to the file room.

  Her startled hazel eyes met his, and she gasped. Instead of catching her riffling though files, he found her eating yogurt and a sandwich at the table right inside the door.

  What a relief. She was doing nothing wrong. Weird, but not wrong.

  “The lunchroom is two doors down,” he said, controlling his breathing so she wouldn’t know he’d sprinted up here like an idiot.

  She wrapped up her sandwich and threw her purse strap over her shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I guess I’m not supposed to have food in here. I just wanted some privacy. Beverly always comes in when I’m in my office.”

  He closed the door quietly behind him, trying not to spook her any more than he already had with his guns-blazing entry. God, he felt like a dick. “It’s fine.” He noticed her eyes flit to the door behind him. “Do you want me to open it? I closed it because you did and I assumed you didn’t want anyone else in the office knowing you were in here eating.”

  She placed the sandwich back on the table and unwrapped it. “I’m good either way.”

  He slid into the chair opposite her. She made no move to resume her lunch. Instead, she kept her eyes on her sandwich, which gave him the opportunity to openly stare at her. Her gold hair reminded him of midday sunshine. Not the rays from hell like he endured in the desert—but the kind of sunshine that made him want to close his eyes and tilt his head back to get more of it. More of her was exactly what he wanted, which was troubling on several fronts, both personal and professional. Still, despite the best logic in the world telling him to back down, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Just like yesterday in her office, he was at war with himself.

  The only indication of her state of mind was the twitching of her pinky fingers. She was uncomfortable. Well, of course she was—he’d really fucked up, not only by blasting in here and startling her, but by pushing her so hard in her office yesterday. “Look, Claire. I’m sorry I came on so strong yesterday. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

  Her eyes met his. “I liked it,” she said, barely above a whisper. She smoothed the paper flat around her sandwich.
“Loved it, actually.”

  The breathy sound of her voice made his whole body stand at attention before his brain even had time to process her words. I liked it. He’d liked it, too. He leaned back in his chair and exhaled slowly. He hadn’t blown it after all. There was that honesty again. He was attracted to this quality about her even more than her ass, and her ass was pretty fucking spectacular. “Yet you turned down my offer for lunch.”

  A slight smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “Yes, and all other things implied.”

  “Why?”

  “Fear.”

  “Of?”

  “Everything.” She fiddled with the corner of the sandwich wrapper.

  That was a completely unexpected exchange. Raw and real, but a little too vague. They were right on the edge of something, teetering before either pulling back or falling off completely. He remained still, hoping she’d go on without prompting.

  “Do you want some of this sandwich?” she asked, pushing her glasses up on her nose.

  “Sure.”

  After placing both halves on one side, she ripped the wrapper in half, then put part of the sandwich on it and slid it to him.

  Still, he sat silently and waited. She seemed to want to tell him more but didn’t know how. He had seen this dozens of times with the men in his unit. Honesty needed to be given, not forced. Sometimes, though, it could be coaxed. “You were talking about fear,” he prompted before digging into the sandwich. The fact that she wasn’t trying to get rid of him, knowing he was one of the owners of the company, boded well for her innocence. No way was this girl the spy.

  She took a bite and chewed for a moment before answering. “Yeah. Well, I’ve taken care of people my whole life, pretty much. Now all those people are gone. For the first time ever, I’m free.”

  “So you turned down my offer for lunch because…?”

  Her eyes shot up to his. “Because I’d reached my all-time record number of Claire-isms for the day and the earth might have exploded if I committed another.”