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

“Close to the quarter-century mark,” she muttered out loud, “and already in pathetic shape.”

“Caitlin? You okay?”

Holding a hand to her chest, she turned to face a startled Vince, who had one of Amy’s scrumptious doughnuts in his hand.

Her mouth started to water. She’d missed breakfast again.

Amy looked concerned, too, and without a word she poured Caitlin some water, which Caitlin gratefully took. “I…will be fine…in just a…sec.”

Vince grinned and gave her a slow once-over. “If you’re trying to get in shape, you’re too late. You already are.”

“Well, I appreciate that,” she gasped. “But I’m not…doing this to myself on purpose, believe me. I hate exercise.” Wryly, she glanced down at her running shoes, then kicked them off. Reaching into her shoulder bag, she pulled out her high-heeled sandals. She’d been doing this every morning, changing downstairs while visiting with Amy, before going to the second floor and facing Joe.

“Why were you running?” Vince held out his arm so that she could use it to keep her balance while she fastened her sandals.

She grabbed on to him, feeling the bulge of muscle, the fine silk of his shirt beneath her fingers. Vince, unlike Tim, Andy and even Joe, never wore jeans to work. He was always dressed impeccably, and today was no different. The deep blue of his shirt and trousers matched his dark sapphire eyes perfectly and toned down the brilliance of his hair.

He waited, his eyes laughing down into hers. “Was that a tough question?”

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, flushing when she realized he thought she’d been staring at him in frank appreciation. She did appreciate him, just not in the way he thought.

She appreciated his friendship, because at this point in her life friendship was a new and exciting gift. Somehow, though, she knew Vince wouldn’t take it in the flattering light she meant it. “I was running because I’m late. As usual. The bus—”

“Where’s your car?”

“It’s gone,” she said as cheerfully as she could with a lump the size of a regulation football stuck in her throat.

She missed her Beemer!

“You take the bus in from the beach every day?” he asked incredulously. “That’s an awful commute, Caitlin.”

“It’s not so bad.” What was awful was the kind and sincere horror in his voice at what she had to go through to get to work. “But the bus never seems to come on time. They say seven-fifteen, but they don’t really mean it. Now I finally get the meaning—” she huffed as she worked her second sandal on “—when they say Californian time.”

Vince laughed as he gently supported her. “Don’t worry—I’ll tell Joe it was my fault.”

“Your fault,” she repeated. “How on earth could my tardiness be your fault—” She broke off as she realized exactly what Joe would think when Vince told him that.

Vince laughed again when she flushed and said, “Oh.”

“Come on,” he said, tugging her to the elevator. “It’ll be fun. He’s so entertaining when he’s furious.”

While Caitlin knew darn well Joe didn’t want her for himself, she instinctively knew how he would react if one of his techs wanted her. “Just yesterday, when Tim was going to program the clock to swear out loud on the hour, you reminded him how much pressure Joe was under right now.”

“So?”

“So why tease him now? He’s still under pressure. He might explode.”

Vince pushed the button for their floor and grinned down at her. “Yeah. Think how much fun this is going to be.”

“Vince—”

He pulled her into the elevator, but just as the door started to close, an elegant, leather-clad foot stopped it.

“Wait!” a female voice cried, and Vince pressed the open-door button.

Caitlin watched as the tall, willowy, incredibly beautiful woman stepped gracefully into the elevator and smiled familiarly at Vince. “Thanks, hon.” Her long limbs moved fluidly as she settled herself. Her ankle-length white sheath was striking against her dark skin.

Now, that’s a body, Caitlin thought enviously. All lean and toned—no extra curves there! She was just thinking how lovely the waist-length, heavy sable hair was when the woman turned to her…and frowned.

Caitlin recognized that frown, and its disapproval.

Joe gave it to her all the time. She stiffened in automatic response.

“This is Darla,” Vince told her. “She’s the accountant in the building. And Darla, this is Caitlin. Our secretary.”

Caitlin smiled, but it wasn’t her usual genuine, shining one because she felt suddenly drained.

“Are you enjoying the work?” Darla asked coolly.

“It’s interesting.”

Darla’s expression opened up a bit, surprised. “You mean, he’s letting you do something other than answer phones?”

Not that he knows, Caitlin thought. “Well…let’s just say we’re working on it.”

“Ah.” Darla’s mouth curved. “Well, at least you made it past the two-day mark. No one else has.”

“What a surprise that is.”

Darla did smile then, a genuine one. “I see you’re not enamored. That’s good. Maybe you have a shot at making it in that office before he eats you alive.”

“Enamored?” Because the thought was so ridiculous, Caitlin laughed.

“He’s not an easy man,” Darla agreed. “As you’ve obviously noticed.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“But he’s a good one.”

Yes. And also hard, tough, unforgiving and sexy as hell. “He’s a good man,” she agreed quietly, because it was the truth.

“You know…” Darla tipped her head to study Caitlin carefully. “You’re much more than Barbie meets Baywatch. I’ll have to tell Joe I was wrong about you.”

“Barbie meets—” Caitlin sputtered, whipped her head to glare at Vince when he burst out laughing at her expression.

The elevator stopped. Darla smiled, and this time it was warm and genuine. “Bye, Caitlin. Good luck today. Or maybe I should wish Joe good luck. I have a feeling he’s going to need it.”

Caitlin wished she’d left her tennis shoes on, because for the first time in her life she felt like running. She wanted to race directly to Joe and tell him what she thought of him and his accountant.