Millionaire Boss, page 2
“Out.”
“But you just got here!”
He ignored her and stepped onto the elevator, punching the button for the ground floor.
Twenty minutes later he was standing on the back stoop of his former secretary’s house, waiting impatiently for her to respond to his knock.
When she did, he brushed past her. “Who’s the mouse?”
“Mouse?” she repeated in confusion, closing the door behind him. “You mean the new secretary I hired for you?”
He pulled out a chair from the table and sat down. “Yeah. Her. What’s the deal?”
She seated herself in the chair next to his. “You’ve met her, then,” she said, looking pleased with herself.
“Yeah. And she’s a mouse. What were you thinking? She’ll never work out.”
“But she’s perfect,” she insisted, as if surprised by his assessment. “Very organized, extremely intelligent, loyal to a fault. Plus, she’s single and more than willing to work the odd hours your schedule demands.”
“She’s a mouse,” he repeated disagreeably. “She’ll never be able to stand up to the pressures of this job.”
“You mean she’ll never be able to withstand your temper tantrums.”
He frowned at the reprimand in her tone and snatched up a salt shaker, narrowing an eye at it as he turned it in his hand. “That, too,” he muttered, reluctant to admit that his former secretary had hit the nail on the head.
“Then maybe you ought to learn to control your temper,” she suggested, sounding more like a mother than a former employee.
Erik glanced over at her and set down the shaker, unable to suppress the half smile her scolding drew. God, but he was going to miss the old girl. “Why don’t you give up on this retirement nonsense and come back to work for me? You know as well as I do that no one can replace you.”
“Can’t. My grandchildren need me.”
“I need you,” he argued. “Those rugrats have their own mothers to take care of them. I only have you.”
“You’re a big boy,” she was quick to remind him, “and more than capable of taking care of yourself.”
He let her argument pass without comment, allowing the silence to stretch out between them. He knew it was the right tactic when she began to wring her hands.
“When was the last time you ate?” she asked uneasily.
“Can’t remember. At least a day. Maybe two.”
“Erik Thompson!” she cried, and pushed herself from the table. “For heaven’s sake,” she fussed as she bustled about, setting a griddle on the stove and turning on a burner beneath it. “A man needs food to keep up his strength.”
“Yeah, I know,” he replied, smiling smugly. “That’s why I need you.”
She pursed her lips and gave him her best you’re-not-fooling-me-for-a-minute-young-man look over her shoulder, then turned her attention to pouring pancake batter over the griddle.
Chuckling, Erik reared back in his chair and hooked his thumbs in the waist of his jeans as he glanced around the cozy kitchen. God, but he loved this room with its never-ending supply of mouthwatering aromas, ridiculous clutter of useless knickknacks, the jumble of artwork and pictures that papered the refrigerator door. He figured he’d spent more time at this table and in this room than he had in those of his childhood home, a fact that spoke volumes about his relationship with his parents.
“Have you heard anything more from Boy Wonder?” she asked as she flipped a pancake.
Erik frowned, reminded of the irritating and mysterious hacker that jumped from machine to machine and server to server, continuing to elude Erik. “Yeah. A couple of times. He’s still around, slipping in back doors and into systems where he has no business.”
“Has he done any damage?”
“None that I can determine. I figure he’s due to do something big soon, though. He’s been hanging around way too long.”
“You’ll catch him,” she told him confidently.
“Damn straight,” he muttered, irritated that the hacker had thus far managed to dodge the traps he’d set for him.
“She’ll do a fine job.”
He glanced up, mentally thrown off balance by the quick change in topic. Then, realizing she was referring to his new secretary, he scowled and pushed back, giving her room to set a plate in front of him. “Not as good as you.”
She smiled, obviously pleased by the compliment as she sank down on the chair next to his. She placed a hand over his, her smile turning wistful. “I’m grateful for the job you offered me after Red died. I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done, if not for you.”
Reminded of the death five years earlier of the man who had been more a father to him than his own father ever had been, Erik firmed his lips against the emotion that crowded his throat. He turned his hand over and gripped his fingers around hers. “Red was a good man. The best.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “He would be so proud of the work you’re doing.”
“He gave me my first chance. Taught me everything he knew.”
“Yes, and he’d be even prouder to know that you took that knowledge and continued his work.”
“We continued it,” he argued, reminding her that she was very much a part of the work he’d carried on after her husband’s death.
She laughed and gave his hand a squeeze before releasing it. “And I enjoyed every minute of it. But it’s time for me to enter the next stage of my life, that of doting grandmother.”
“You’ll be bored out of your mind in a month’s time, I guarantee it.”
“No,” she told him, and lifted her apron’s skirt to dab the telltale tears from her eyes. “I’m really looking forward to spending time with my grandbabies.”
He braced his forearms on the table and leaned toward her, his expression growing earnest. “Then just go part-time at the office. There’s no reason why you can’t continue to work for me and spend time with your grandchildren, too.”
Chuckling, she shook her head. “You’re just afraid that if I retire completely I won’t cook for you anymore.”
He scowled, but picked up his fork. “That’s not it at all. I need you, Mrs. H. We’re a team.”
“And you and Penny will make a good team, too.” She smiled and placed a hand on his cheek. “Give her a chance,” she urged gently. “You’ll see. Penny Rawley is exactly the woman you need in your life.”
Hours later Erik was still scowling, wondering what Mrs. H. had meant by that last comment.
Penny Rawley is exactly the woman you need in your life.
Was the old girl playing matchmaker? he wondered as he glanced over at his secretary, who sat before a computer terminal at the end of his credenza, transcribing from tapes the data he’d recorded during his meetings in Japan.
He quickly looked away, discarding the troublesome thought. No, he told himself. Though Mrs. H. had run roughshod over his life for more than fifteen years, ever since Red had brought Erik home with him the first time, and over Erik’s office since her husband’s death, she’d never once tried to fix him up with a woman.
He glanced up again as his new secretary rose and headed for her adjoining office. Her hand was on the doorknob when he called out, “Hold up a sec.”
Penny stopped, startled by her employer’s barked command, her heart seeming to stop, too. It leaped into a pounding, joyous beat as she turned to face him, as she was sure that he had at last remembered her. “Yes?” she asked expectantly.
“Do you have any family?”
“Well…no,” she replied, caught off guard by the unexpected question. “Other than a brother, two nieces and a nephew,” she added prudently.
“Good.” He spun his chair around and grabbed the mouse next to his keyboard and began to scroll through a complicated table of computer codes. “’Cause you’re going to California with me this afternoon.”
Her eyes widened as she stared at the back of his head. “To California? With you?”
“Yeah. Go home and pack a bag. Throw in something fancy,” he added.
She gulped a breath, trying to absorb the fact that she would be traveling with him. “Fancy?” she repeated dully.
“Yeah. You know. A cocktail dress or something.”
“B-but why?”
His brows drew together as he found the information he was looking for and clicked on the accompanying file. “A black-tie thing,” he mumbled. “Supposed to bring a date.”
Two
Suzy shoved Penny’s suitcase aside and flopped down on her stomach on the bed, propping her chin on her hands. “I can’t believe Erik didn’t remember you.”
Disappointed because he hadn’t, Penny avoided Suzy’s gaze. “It’s been ten years,” she reminded her friend.
“So what? It’s been ten years for you, too, and you remembered him.”
“Yes, but that’s different.”
Suzy rolled her eyes but—thankfully—let the comment pass without argument. Instead, she craned her neck and peered over the side of the suitcase, poking through the items Penny had already packed. “So how long will y’all be gone?”
“A week.”
“Are you planning on jumping his bones?”
Penny whirled from her closet. “Suzy!”
Arching a brow, Suzy held up a plastic case, taunting Penny with the damning evidence she’d found. “Why else would you have started taking the Pill?”
Her cheeks flaming, Penny snatched the packet of birth control pills from her friend’s hand and shoved it back into her suitcase, burying it beneath a stack of underwear. “That’s none of your business. Besides, I started them over a month ago.” Just about the time she’d applied for the job as Erik’s secretary, she thought but didn’t say.
Chuckling, Suzy sat up, plumping pillows at the headboard before sinking back against them. “Just trying to help you face the facts.”
“If you want to be helpful,” Penny replied irritably, “you can tell me what I should wear to a black-tie affair.”
“What are your choices?”
Penny turned to study the row of clothes hanging neatly in her closet. “Well, there’s the floral dress that I wore Easter Sunday three years ago,” she offered, then glanced at Suzy. “You know. The calf-length dress with cap-sleeves and Puritan-style collar?”
Groaning, Suzy covered her face with her hands. “Please tell me you’re not seriously considering wearing that old thing?”
“What’s wrong with the floral dress?”
“Nothing, if you were going to be herding a gaggle of toddlers at an Easter egg hunt. Jeez, Pen,” she complained. “You gotta stop dressing like somebody’s mother. Think bold. Daring. Go for shock value. I guarantee you, if you do, not a man in the room will be able to take his eyes off you. Not even the Cyber Cowboy himself.”
Penny turned to stare at the clothes hanging in her closet, all of which seemed more appropriate for a PTA meeting at one of her nieces’ or nephew’s schools than for a cocktail party escorted by Erik Thompson.
Not that he would notice her, anyway, she thought, swallowing back a swell of tears.
“I don’t have anything else,” she said, sniffing as she dragged the floral dress from its hanger. “It’ll just have to do.”
Suzy vaulted from the bed. “Then let’s go shopping. We’ll buy you something sinfully expensive. Something totally outrageous that will have Erik Thompson’s eyes bugging out of his head.”
Tempted, Penny glanced at the bedside clock, and the tears pushed to her eyes. “There isn’t time. I have to meet him at the office parking lot at five.” She swept a hand across her cheeks, then carefully folded the floral dress and placed it in her suitcase. “This will just have to do.”
Suzy moved to stand beside her and slipped an arm around her shoulders. “The dress’ll do fine. And so will you,” she added, giving Penny a reassuring squeeze. Drawing away, she sighed as she scooped her purse from the foot of the bed. “I guess I’d better go so you can finish packing. Call me the minute you get back in town.”
“I will.”
“You’d better,” Suzy warned as she headed for the bedroom door. “I want to hear every intimate detail. Oh, and Penny?”
Penny turned to look at her. “What?”
“Don’t forget to take your pills.”
Erik lounged against the hood of his truck, his arms folded over his chest and his buttocks braced against the grill guard, watching as his new secretary steered her beige sedan into her assigned space in the building’s underground parking garage. The vehicle was as plain and nondescript as its owner, he thought, with a woeful shake of his head.
What was Mrs. H. thinking when she hired the woman? he wondered again. Penny Rawley was a mouse, afraid of her own shadow. The first time he lost his temper—which, he admitted, he was prone to do on occasion—she’d probably run from his office, bawling. And he didn’t have the time or patience to deal with a crybaby.
Scowling, he watched her flip up her sun visor, eject a cassette tape from the player on the dash, then carefully slip the tape into its plastic case and tuck it neatly into the console. Her movements were as methodical as a pilot’s, clicking off controls after a landing…which wasn’t a bad thing, he reflected grudgingly. Erik appreciated order. Not that he managed to ever create it on his own. But that’s what secretaries were for, right? Hadn’t Mrs. H. always taken care of all the little details of his life, allowing him the freedom and time to focus on the bigger, more important issues?
Damn straight she had, he thought, swallowing back a lump of emotion. He was going to miss the old girl. She had possessed a sixth sense for determining his mood and anticipating his needs, and had managed for the most part to ignore his temper tantrums…but was unafraid to give him a good tongue lashing when she felt he deserved one.
And now he was stuck with a damn mouse, he thought irritably as he watched his new secretary twist around inside her car to collect something from the back seat.
Her hair was still wound up in that old-maid bun he’d noticed at the office that morning, and she was dressed in the same utilitarian suit, with that damn fussy bow tied prissily beneath her chin.
A week, he thought with a sigh as he heaved himself away from his truck and headed for her car. He’d be lucky if he didn’t die of boredom after the first day.
When he reached the side of her car, he bent over, bracing his hands on his knees to place his face level with the open window. “Ready?”
Before he knew what was happening, he found himself staring at the business end of a small canister of mace. A mouse fending off a man-eating lion. The image that popped into his mind was ridiculous enough to be comical.
“Please don’t shoot,” he deadpanned. “I’ll go peacefully.”
She sagged weakly, then clamped her lips together and reached for the window’s handle, rolling the glass up between them with quick jerks of her hand. After snatching her shoulder bag from the passenger seat, she shoved open the door. “You startled me,” she accused.
He arched a brow, surprised by the unexpected display of temper. “Didn’t mean to,” he said, stepping out of her way. “Was just going to offer to help you with your luggage.”
She headed for the rear of her car, her nose in the air. “I can manage on my own, thank you.”
She stabbed the key into the lock, gave it a furious twist, then flung up the lid. Their hands brushed and their heads bumped as they both reached for the bag she’d stored inside. She leaped back, clutching her hand against her chest, as if stung.
Scowling, he pulled her bag from the trunk. “Over there,” he said, with a jerk of his head toward his truck, then slapped a palm against the trunk’s lid, slamming it down.
She drew the strap of her purse to her shoulder and turned, but stopped before she’d taken a full step, her eyes going wide.
He pressed a hand against the small of her back. “What’s the matter?” he asked, giving her a nudge to put her into motion. “Never seen a truck before?”
She sidestepped just enough to escape his touch. “Of course I’ve seen a truck,” she replied, sounding flustered. “I grew up on a ranch. I just never considered that you would drive one.”
He tossed her bag into the back, then opened the passenger door and shot her a wink as he held it open. “No true cowboy would be caught dead driving anything else.”
When she continued to hesitate, nervously eyeing the gaping distance between the ground and the running board created by the six-inch lift he’d added to the truck’s original design, he realized the cause of her concern. Short of hiking her skirt up around her waist, there was no way she was going to negotiate the climb.
Though he thought that scenario might be worth observing, he resolved her problem by wrapping an arm around her waist and swinging her up. She squealed as he swept her from the ground, then clung to him as he planted her conservative little pumps on the floorboard and her fanny on the passenger seat.
Dusting off his hands, he took a step back. “Comfortable?” he asked, trying hard not to smile.
She stared at him, her green eyes wide and unblinking, her face pale but for two bright spots of color high on her cheeks. A wisp of carrot-red hair had escaped her bun and now brushed her temple. A sense of déjà vu swept over him. Had he seen those eyes before, that face? Had he enacted this scene before?
A frown puckered his brow as he narrowed an eye at her. “Have we—”
She tore her gaze from his and turned to face the front. “Quite comfortable,” she replied, cutting him off. “Thank you.”
Erik frowned a moment longer, then lifted his shoulder and headed for the driver’s side of his truck.
Penny stole a peek at Erik, who sat slumped in the seat next to hers, his head tipped back, his eyes closed, his lips slightly parted in sleep. Though the private jet’s cabin was dimly lit, the overhead reading lamp and the glow from his laptop computer screen provided enough light to illuminate features she’d always considered too perfect to be human.
Taking advantage of this rare opportunity to study him unawares, she leaned for a closer look. He hasn’t changed all that much, she noted. The squint lines fanning from the corners of his eyes were a little deeper than she remembered and his cheeks were a little more lean, but basically he looked the same as the memory she’d kept locked away in her heart for the past ten years.
