In Bed with the Boss Read online

  They pulled up to the hotel entrance and he turned to her. Every time she looked in his eyes she remembered why blue was her favorite color.

  He said, “You want to see Fisherman’s Wharf?”

  All the reasons they shouldn’t do social things together raced through her mind. But how many times had she seen San Francisco? That would be never. This was her first time in the city by the bay. Chances were she’d visit again, now she worked with Tom.

  But you never knew what the future might bring.

  Shelly let her smile bloom wide. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “It’s a total tourist trap,” Tom said, when they stood at the rail on Pier 39 and admired the sea lions.

  “Still.” The brisk wind off the bay blew her hair across her cheeks. She smoothed it back behind her ears. Not that it stayed there. “It’s Fisherman’s Wharf. And now I can say I’ve been here…”

  He had his jacket off—as usual—and he carried it hooked on a finger, slung back over his shoulder. He’d loosened his tie. The wind whipped at his hair. Even at almost eleven at night, the lights were bright and people milled around them and the smell of steaming crab from a street vendor scented the air.

  “Okay,” Tom admitted with a grin. “It is kind of cool.”

  She laughed. “Cool? It’s freezing.” She shivered. He offered his coat and she took it gladly, wrapping it around her like a cape, letting the arms hang free.

  As the sea lions barked for tidbits from the tourists that lined the rail, Tom edged in closer and turned her toward the open water. She was enjoying herself far too much—enjoying all of it: the warmth of his hands on her shoulders, the feel of him close at her back, the cozy comfort of his jacked wrapped around her.

  He said, “That’s Alcatraz, on the left.” By the glow of the moon and the lights on the island, she could see the famous prison quite clearly. He added, “Angel Island is right there beside it.”

  Shelly got out her cell and took a few pictures. Then they strolled around a while. He didn’t take her hand, or wrap an arm around her. She tried not to wish that he would.

  They found a free bench and sat down and she was reminded of Friday night at Washington Square Park, across the street from the Newberry. The two of them, on a bench, watching the world go by.

  “Life is amazing,” she said. “Chock-full of surprises.”

  He laughed. “Did I tell you I like your attitude?”

  “Yeah. Once or twice…but I mean, really. Fifteen days ago, I was unemployed, worrying over where my next mortgage payment was going to come from. Tonight, I’m in San Francisco, watching the sea lions at Fisherman’s Wharf after dinner at one of the best restaurants in California.” With you, she silently added.

  Tom was nodding. “Lucky you thought of giving TAKA-Hanson a try. And I mean lucky for both of us.”

  “Yeah. Lucky.” Lucky her uncle Drake decided to give her a call….

  Again, she considered just telling Tom about her uncle. But how far should she take it? Should she mention Drake’s remarks about how he eventually wanted her to spy for him? And then fall all over herself promising Tom she’d never do such a thing?

  No. Let it go.

  Why take a chance of stirring up trouble for herself? She just wanted to do good work and enjoy the benefits of having a decent income and a job that had her jumping out of bed in the morning, eager to face the day. A job that included being with Tom…

  In a strictly professional sense, of course.

  “You okay?” He was looking at her sideways.

  “Yeah. Great. Why?”

  “I don’t know. You looked a little grim there for a moment.”

  She smoothed her hair out of her face again. “No. Not grim. Not in the least.”

  He seemed to doubt her denial—but then he shrugged. “So. What was your take on Riki? You think he can get back on schedule?”

  “Not my…er…field of expertise.”

  “I know. But just your gut feeling.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Winston. Stop hedging.”

  Winston. She liked it when he called her by her last name. Somehow, he made it seem so personal—his own private nickname for her. “Okay. My gut feeling…which is only that, a feeling…”

  He made the move-it-along gesture.

  “All right, all right. It’s just…well, I know that things go wrong. It’s the nature of any business. But gee. A whole lot is going wrong with Riki’s end of things, don’t you think?”

  “You’re suspicious.”

  “Well, yeah. A little.”

  “So am I. But it could be just a case of Murphy’s Law on steroids. Stuff happens.”

  “But it’s a lot of stuff.”

  “True. I’ll go over all of it with Helen. Get her take on the situation. She should be meeting us in Kyoto….”

  Helen. Shelly had heard a lot about Helen Taka-Hanson in her week and a half of working for Tom. The CEO of the hospitality division lived in Chicago with her husband, Morito Taka, who was usually called Mori and who was chairman of TAKA-Hanson’s board. The couple had been in Japan since before Shelly got the job with Tom, so she had yet to meet either of them.

  She watched a seagull as it strutted past on the wharf a few feet from the bench. “Riki did seem certain that he could pull it all into line.”

  “Doesn’t mean he will.”

  “True. But he does have a good track record, right?”

  “Right. And there is no way we’re going to solve this problem tonight.”

  “True again.”

  “So. Want to take a cable car back to the hotel?”

  “Does a sea lion poop in the bay?”

  He rose. “I can’t believe you said that.”

  “Tacky, huh?” She laughed.

  He looked down at her. And she gazed up. It was one of those moments they write about in novels. Fireworks. Rockets. Shivers sliding down her spine. A few glorious seconds where the world faded away and there was only the two of them.

  “Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s get moving.”

  Shelly slept with the curtains open that night, so that when she woke up in the morning, the first thing she saw was the fog shrouding the bay.

  She and Tom shared a working breakfast in one of the hotel’s restaurants. They went over her notes from the day before and he gave her instructions for working up a summary that he could pass on to Helen, to bring her up to speed for their meeting on the subject.

  Their plane was supposed to take off at eleven-ten. But at one, they were still sitting in the airport waiting for some mechanical problem to be repaired.

  Her cell rang. Tom shot her a questioning look. She glanced at the display. “My mom’s number,” she told him. “Which means it’s probably Max.” She hit Talk. “What’s up?”

  “Mom. My pollywog is growing two more legs.”

  “Wow. Not bad.”

  “They’re kind of like stubs now, but they’re getting bigger.”

  “You’ll have a frog before you know it.” Beside her, Tom chuckled. She sent him a grin, but he’d already gone back to reading e-mail. Max chattered away about swimming in the creek and getting up early to go fishing with his grandpa, about the chocolate cupcakes with white frosting that his granny made specially for him, about the two boys he’d met who were just his age.

  When he paused for a breath, she asked, “So how are your glasses holding up?”

  “Um. Well, Mom. We prob’ly need to talk about that.”

  “Can you still use them?”

  “Yeah. Granny has lots of duct tape. But they’re getting kind of crooked. They, um, fell off and I stepped on them. Grandpa bent them back so I can use them, and Granny put more tape on them, but they’re not the same as they were before.”

  “Don’t worry. I called and ordered you another pair. You think you can make them last until you get home?”

  He said he could. Shelly talked to her mom.

  When she said
goodbye, Tom glanced up from his BlackBerry. “I had glasses when I was a kid. Couldn’t see a damn thing without them. And I was always breaking them—or losing them.”

  “I’ve never seen you wear glasses.”

  “Laser surgery. Works wonders.”

  “Ah. Too bad they don’t recommend it for children. I know it’s not cheap, but it has to be better than buying a new pair of glasses every couple of months.” He was looking at her strangely. “What?”

  “You love being a mom, huh?”

  “Yeah. Toughest job in the world. But somebody’s got to do it.”

  “I always wanted kids….” He looked away.

  “Tom?”

  When he faced her, those fine blue eyes had real regret in them. “Never worked out. I’ve kind of kept on the move. Chasing the next promotion. The…timing was always off for starting a family.”

  She knew there was more to it. He’d told her Friday night that he’d had two serious relationships. What had happened with them? She wanted to know. A lot.

  Too bad pushing him for his secrets wasn’t an option—given she was doing her best to keep from getting too close to him and risking the possibility of her wonderful new job blowing up in her face.

  “It’s never too late,” she said softly. “Especially for a guy. I mean, the, er, biological clock ticks on forever when you’re a guy….”

  “Winston.”

  “What?”

  “Are you trying to reassure me?”

  “Well. Yeah.”

  “Thanks. I think.” He spoke in a wry tone, but his eyes said he just might grab her and kiss her—a long, slow, deep, wet one. Right here in the airport, where everyone could see.

  Would she mind that? Nope. Not in the least. She would just love that.

  And there lay the problem.

  She cleared her throat. “Uh. You’re welcome—and they’re calling our flight.”

  He was looking at her mouth. “They are?”

  She laughed, and that broke the sensual spell that had somehow woven itself around them. “Let’s go.”

  “Right.” He looked away.

  She felt…bereft. How dumb was that? She shook herself and shouldered her carry-on.

  Wednesday, Shelly got into the office even earlier than usual. Since Tom would be gone Thursday and Friday, she had a lot of calls to field and appointments that still needed rescheduling. There were also her regular daily duties—filing, getting correspondence out and the like—that had to be finished for the week in that one day. Or at least, as close to finished as she could get them. She’d brought a sandwich so she could eat lunch at her desk. Every hour counted on a day like this one.

  Lil strutted over at a little before noon. The sexy redhead sat on the edge of Shelly’s desk and studied her manicure.

  “You work too damn hard, Shel. You know that?”

  Shelly kept on typing. “So much to do, so little time.”

  “Come with me. We’ll go to O’Connell’s.” Lil named a local place where a lot of TAKA-Hanson’s clerical staff hung out. “Get a beer and brats. Dish all the best dirt.”

  Shelly got to the end of a paragraph and leaned back in her chair. She indicated the brown bag with her sandwich in it. “Thanks. I’d love to. But it’s not happening. Not today.”

  Lil rearranged the tape dispenser, moved the stapler an inch to the left. “San Francisco on Monday, Kyoto on Thursday. What a life, huh?”

  Shelly laughed. “Lil, I swear. Is there anything that happens in this office you don’t know about ahead of time?”

  She put up both hands. “Okay, ya got me. I take a certain pride in being nosy as hell.”

  “Next week, maybe?”

  “Well.” Lil gave a lazy shrug. “We can hope, I guess. You’re very dedicated. It’s totally annoying.” She sent Shelly a teasing smile to let her know she was joking, then tipped her head toward Tom’s shut door. “So honestly, now. How’s it going between you and the hunky CFO?”

  “Great. Really.”

  “He likes you. I can tell.” Was that jealousy Shelly spotted in those gorgeous green eyes? Or just another lead-in, an attempt to get Shelly to confide—so Lil could turn right around and blab every word she said?

  Shelly played it straight. “I like him, too. Makes for an easier working relationship. It’s all good.”

  “Oh, I’ll bet.”

  Tom’s line lit up. Shelly punched him in. “Yes?”

  He asked, “What about the accounting review?”

  “Moved it to next Tuesday, first of July.”

  “Okay. That’ll work.” His line went dark.

  Lil eased her hip off the desk and straightened her tight skirt. “Well, all right. Be boring and work through lunch.”

  “Sorry. Next week?”

  “Next week? Shel, anything could happen between now and then.”

  Something in her tone had Shelly shooting her a sharp glance. “Anything…like what?”

  Lil waved a hand. “Oh, nothing. How about Monday?”

  Shelly would have a full day Monday, too. But she didn’t want to offend Lil. “Tuesday?”

  “Why not?” Lil sauntered off toward the elevator. Shelly stared after her until she vanished from sight.

  Already, Shelly was dreading next Tuesday’s lunch. She wanted to stay on good terms with all of her coworkers, but spending time with Lil was exhausting. You had to be way careful not to say anything you didn’t want the whole office to hear.

  And was Lil after Tom? Last week in the break room, one of the other assistants had hinted that Lil had a thing going with her boss, Louie D’Amitri. Certainly a sexy, single CFO trumped a married, paunchy finance manager any day.

  Shelly grinned to herself. Okay, she was feeling ridiculously smug. She just knew someone like Lil could never be Tom’s type. Not that it mattered to Shelly, personally.

  Or so she kept trying to convince herself—to little effect, unfortunately. She did care what kind of woman might interest her boss. She cared way too much.

  Tom had hit the ground running, too, that day, and never stopped.

  It was always crazy like this when he had two high-priority trips to deal with inside of one week. He had several meetings. Between those, he was briefing for the visit to the Kyoto site, catching up on voice mail and doing phone interviews with a couple of industry rags on the progress of TAKA-Hanson’s new chain of luxury hotels.

  Tom spun the interviews toward the exclusivity and originality of the new chain. He avoided pesky subjects such as Riki’s failure to deliver on time and the cost overruns at the Kyoto site. The first interview, with Service Providers Magazine went off without hitch.

  But then, later in the day, he talked to Chip Fast, from Hotelier Monthly. Tom liked Chip and Chip returned the sentiment, which was convenient for both of them. They always made a point to touch base, have dinner or at least a drink, whenever the reporter came to town. Hotelier Monthly had its offices in New York City.

  After Tom gave Chip all the news that was fit to print, Chip had some inside information he didn’t mind sharing with a friend. “Heard of the Thatcher Group?”

  Tom got that sinking feeling low in his gut. “The name sounds familiar….” Too damn familiar.

  “The Thatcher Group has an office here, in Manhattan. It’s new. CEO and Chairman of the board is Drake Thatcher. You’ve probably heard of him. Been around forever. The stock market, banking, property development, you name it. The man’s always got his fingers in the coming thing.”

  “I know of him.” Tom made his voice offhand, though inside he was anything but.

  “Well, now he’s formed the Thatcher Group,” said Chip.

  “Hospitality?” Tom asked, as if he hadn’t already figured it out.

  “That’s right. High-end hotels. International in scope. He’ll be giving TAKA-Hanson a run for the money.”

  “You talked to Thatcher himself?”

  “No. One of the partners.” Chip gave a name and Tom made a not
e of it. “I didn’t get much else. They’re just in the planning stages. The guy I talked to said they were shooting for a San Francisco grand opening three years out—and then backpedaled like mad, said the location wasn’t firmed up yet. Blah, blah, blah…”

  San Francisco. Damn Thatcher’s black soul to hell. “Competition,” Tom said in a tone that gave away none of his fury. “Always good for business.”

  “Just thought you’d like to know.”

  “Thanks, Chip.”

  “I’ll give you a call when I hear more….”

  “And be sure to let me know next time you’re in town. We’ll get together.”

  “Right back at ya.”

  Tom hung up. He buzzed Shelly. “Hold my calls.”

  “Will do,” she answered brightly, just the sound of her voice cheering him up.

  The buoyant feeling didn’t last. His former mentor and long-time nemesis had surfaced once again. The man who set Tom up to go to jail, the man who tried to destroy Tom over and over.

  Drake in the hotel business…

  Tom’s stomach twisted. How long would it be before Thatcher made his move to push Tom out of the picture? Tom didn’t get it. Never had. After all, he’d paid the price fourteen years ago while Drake got away clean. But for some reason, Thatcher seemed driven to mess Tom over every chance he got. As if Drake had been the one to end up royally screwed all those years ago.

  In Dallas that last time, Tom had learned, well after the fact, that Drake had called Tom’s boss to discredit him.

  Tom had lost that job. He’d gone too long without finding another one. At the time, he’d been in a relationship. A serious one. The relationship hadn’t survived the stress of his long-term unemployment. Neither had the baby his fiancée was carrying.

  That was the worst of all the damages Drake Thatcher had inflicted on him: the loss of an innocent unborn child.

  Not that Drake had stopped there. In New York a few years ago Thatcher had had a long conversation with someone on the board of Tom’s company. Tom hadn’t been fired either time. He’d been called in and told it was best if he moved on. No one wanted trouble. Tom certainly didn’t. He’d had trouble enough already in his life.

  He was given good severance packages and glowing recommendations. Since he’d suspected both times that Drake was the reason he was out of a job, he called in markers, did his research—and had his suspicions confirmed.