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?’’
‘‘Right over there.’’ He pointed, looking away to keep from noticing how her tongue swept across her bottom lip as she chased every last crumb of chocolate.
‘‘Thank God,’’ she muttered, and hopped up again. Striding across the room to the low oak sideboard, she glanced over her shoulder at him. ‘‘Since it’s my first day, I’ll even get you a cup. After that though, you’re on your own. I’m not a waitress. I’m a secretary. Temporarily.’’
Temporarily, he reminded himself as his gaze locked onto the curve of her behind as she moved with an easy sway that was enough to knock any man’s temperature up a notch or two. Hell, every relationship became temporary eventually. At least this one was labeled correctly right from the start.
This could only be trouble, he told himself and wondered how in the hell he’d survive the next two weeks with Eileen back in his life.
By day three, Eileen remembered exactly why she’d left the business world for that of flowers. Flowers never gave you a headache. Flowers didn’t expect you to have all the answers. Flowers didn’t look great in three-piece suits.
Okay, that last one wasn’t one of her original reasons for relinquishing her keyboard. But it was right up there on the list now.
The work wasn’t hard. It was actually fairly interesting, though she’d never admit that out loud to Rick. And, after spending the past two years in a work wardrobe that consisted of jeans and a wide selection of T-shirts, it was sort of nice getting dressed up again. Good thing she hadn’t gotten rid of her work wardrobe. Slacks, shirts, discreet pumps or her comfy boots. She was wearing makeup and doing her hair every morning, too. A big change from her usual ponytail and a quick slash of lipstick. But none of that made up for the fact that she was spending way too much time watching Rick.
She’d had a crush on him when she was a kid, of course. Well, at least until the unfortunate Barbie incident. He and Bridie had ignored her most of the time and, when forced to spend time with her, Rick had teased Eileen until she’d wanted to kick him. But now…she turned her head just far enough to be able to look into his office through the partially opened door.
With his tie loosened at his open collar and his dark brown hair mussed from stabbing his fingers through it in frustration, he looked…what was the word? Oh, yeah. Tasty.
Oh ye gods.
This was a complication she didn’t want or need.
She couldn’t be fantasizing about Rick Hawkins. For one thing, when these two weeks were up, she’d be going back to her world, leaving him to his and never their twain would meet again. For another…he was so not her type. She liked the artsy guys with a slightly bohemian air that she ran into down at the beach. The guys who were tanned and relaxed, with the attitude of why do today what can be put off indefinitely? Those guys were safe. She knew no relationship with them was going to go anywhere. The farthest they could see into the future was the next wave. Or their next paycheck. They didn’t have portfolios.
Heck, most of them didn’t own a pair of shoes that required socks.
So why suddenly was she spending way too much time thinking about, and fantasizing about, Mr. Corporate Millionaire?
Two
Rick leaned back in his chair and watched Eileen stop just at the threshold. She’d been doing that for three days now. She did the work. She was efficient, smart, organized. But she kept him at a distance. Always made sure she held herself back from him. And if he was smart, he’d appreciate that.
Instead, it frustrated him.
He hadn’t expected to be so attracted to her. When his grandmother had first suggested Eileen as a temporary secretary, Rick hadn’t been able to imagine it. The Eileen he’d known years ago was hardly his idea of a good assistant. But he’d been desperate and willing to try anything. Now that she was here, he could hardly think of anything else.
Probably not a good sign.
‘‘Hello? Earth to Rick.’’
He blinked, coming up out of his thoughts like a man waking from a coma. ‘‘What?’’
‘‘I don’t know. You called me in here, remember?’’ Eileen was still standing in the doorway, but now she was looking at him as if he had a screw loose. And hell. Maybe he did.
He pushed out of the chair and stood up. He’d always thought better on his feet anyway. ‘‘Yeah. I did. I’ll need you to stay a little later tonight—’’ He broke off when the phone in the outer office rang.
‘‘Hold that thought.’’ Eileen turned and walked to her desk.
He deliberately avoided watching the sway of her hips. It wasn’t easy.
She grabbed the receiver on the third ring. ‘‘Hawkins Financial.’’
Rick watched her as she reached across the desk for a pen. The hem of her skirt rode tantalizingly high on her thighs with the movement and he told himself not to look. But hell, he was male, right? And breathing? Impossible not to look.
Didn’t mean a thing.
‘‘Vanessa Taylor?’’ Eileen turned to glance at him, a question in her eyes.
Damn.
No, he mouthed, shaking his head and waving both hands. All he needed right now, was having to listen to Vanessa ramble about cocktail parties she wanted him to take her to. Never mind that he hadn’t called her in weeks. Vanessa simply assumed that every man who crossed her path would become her helpless love slave. Rick Hawkins, however, didn’t believe in love or slavery.
Tell her anything, he mouthed the instructions and hoped to hell Eileen was good at lipreading. He felt like a damn mime. But he couldn’t risk a whisper. Vanessa had ears like a bat. She’d know he was there, then she’d insist on talking to him and he just wasn’t interested.
Hell, he hadn’t been interested when they were going out.
Anything? Eileen mouthed back, a decided gleam in her eyes. When he nodded, she smiled wickedly and said, ‘‘I’m sorry Ms. Taylor, but Rick can’t come to the phone right now. The doctors have advised him to not speak until the stitches are gone.’’
What? Rick took a step closer.
Eileen backed up. ‘‘Oh, you didn’t hear? A minor accident,’’ she said, laughter in her eyes and feigned sympathy in her voice. ‘‘I’m sure the disfigurement won’t be permanent.’’ An instant later, Eileen jerked the phone from her ear and winced. ‘‘Wow. She slammed the phone down so hard I think I may be deaf.’’
Rick stared at her. ‘‘Disfigurement? I’m disfigured? Why did you do that?’’
‘‘Eh?’’ She cupped one hand around her ear and tilted her head.
‘‘Funny, Ryan.’’ He smirked at her. Pushing the edges of his jacket back, he shoved both hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels. ‘‘What’s the deal?’’
‘‘You said I should tell her anything.’’
‘‘Within reason.’’
She held up