Who's the Boss? Read Online Free PDF Page B

medal.
    “You should,” he said, watching her wiggle up to her knees in the tightest, shortest, reddest skirt he’d ever seen. How had she gotten into that thing? “It’s ten o’clock. What the hell are you doing?”
    “Filing.” She slapped her hands together to rid them of dust. “This place is a disaster. Don’t you ever clean?”
    “No, and I knew where everything is... was, ” he protested, trying not to panic.
    “It’ll be better,” she promised him. “You’ll see.”
    He doubted that and was about to tell her so but his phone rang. He watched, fascinated, as Caitlin stood and yanked down the short little jacket that matched her siren-red skirt before scooping up the receiver. “Hello?” Quickly, she covered the mouthpiece and batted her warm brown eyes at Joe. “Should I tell them this is CompuSoft?” she asked in a loud whisper. “Or is that redundant, do you think, since they called us and they most likely know who it is they dialed?” She bit her full, red bottom lip in indecision.
    “Just find out who it is,” Joe suggested through his teeth. “That might be a good place to start.”
    She nodded quite seriously and turned back to the phone. “Yes, who is this, please?” Her brow creased in concentration. Her hair settled around her flushed face. Then she lit up with the most dazzling smile Joe had ever seen. “Oh, isn’t that sweet of you,” she gushed. “I’m sure he’d love that, yes. Thanks so much.” She hung up the phone and dropped back to her knees amid the mess she’d created all over his floor.
    Joe found himself once again staring at her very cute wriggling butt. “Caitlin.” His voice came out slightly strangled, and he had no idea if it were irritation or something more basic, such as his own software became hardware.
    She stopped wriggling and smiled at him. “Yes, Mr. Brownley?”
    He knew for a damn fact she was only eight years younger than him and she was calling him mister. “Joe.”
    “Okay. Joe.” She turned back to whatever the hell it was she thought she was doing.
    “Who was on the phone?” he demanded.
    “Oh. AT&T.” She sent him that same dazzling smile, the one that did funny things to his knees. “They’re going to send you a one-hundred-dollar credit for switching to their service for a trial period of two weeks. Isn’t that sweet of them? Though you probably shouldn’t have left them in the first place. I understand from that nice operator I just spoke with they have the best prices in the country.”
    Joe closed his eyes briefly and reminded himself that though he relied only on himself, rarely allowing another into his life, he had loved Edmund. He owed the man, and this woman—this crazy, out-of-control, messy woman—was his debt “I’ll be in my office,” he managed to say finally.
    She sent him a vague smile from where she was shuffling papers— his papers—around. “No problem.”
    As he turned to go, he tripped over her pumps, again.
     
    SHE COULD DO THIS, Caitlin told herself. No problem. She’d gone through most of her life figuring things out by herself. She’d dealt with the death of her mother all those years ago. She’d dealt with traveling alone, celebrating holidays alone, generally being completely alone.
    She could certainly answer a few phones and straighten up an office, especially since she didn’t have much choice.
    The bills had to be paid. She’d come home the night before to several messages from credit collectors.
    They were getting nasty.
    The phones had been blissfully quiet for a while. So had the men, though they were checking on her often, which brought a smile. They were so sweet.
    Except for Joe. No one in their right mind would call that powerfully built thug, masquerading as a mild-mannered computer geek, sweet.
    She headed down the hallway to the small lunchroom, which held a refrigerator, a microwave, a sink and counter and a small table with chairs.
    She glanced at the coffee machine and