Billionaire Boss (4 page)

F
riday afternoon Kirsten watched the men set up the bandstand for the barbecue.

The two-step band she'd hired was one she knew well. She only hoped that James, the lead singer in Mystery's best cowboy band, would let bygones be bygones.

They'd dated for less than a month, and it just hadn't been right. Their personalities didn't mesh, but worse than that, James hadn't understood her. He'd continually mistaken her reserve and caution for being stuck-up.

It wouldn't have worked with James, but he'd
been sore when she'd told him. She only prayed he was attached to someone else by now. Otherwise the barbecue could be most unpleasant, because James had the ability to swill beer like a good ol' boy.

Pushing her anxieties aside, she watched another group of workers set down a portable oak dance floor for two-stepping.

All in all it looked as if the barbecue should be a success. The weather was supposed to be warm and dry. A beautiful Montana sky full of stars was the perfect backdrop for waltzing.

She looked away for a moment, suddenly feeling more like Cinderella than the boss's assistant. The fantasy of dancing in the arms of a man she loved beneath her beloved Montana sky was too much to resist. But every time the daydream took hold, the man she found herself dancing with was Seth Morgan. And that only depressed her more.

“Have the others arrived from the airport yet?” Nikki whined, sipping her umpteenth glass of chardonnay.

Kirsten saw that the model had left poolside just to speak to her.

“I don't know. Their flight was to arrive by now, but I haven't seen Mr. Morgan in the Jeep.” Kirsten eyed the tall, beautiful model.

As horrible as it had been to get through last night without thinking of Seth and Nikki together, Kirsten almost believed Nikki was having a harder time. The woman looked caved-in, and she'd been at the wine since way before noon.

Kirsten bit back all the questions she had. Her boss's relationship with his girlfriend was not her concern, but there were so many things going through her head. As it was, hope and despair played a ridiculous game of tug-of-war inside her heart, and she really wanted the torture to end.

“He'd better show up soon,” the model sniped, “that's all I know. If he's going to fly me to the middle of nowhere and take away all my fun, then I damn well plan on getting some from Rick.”

Shocked, Kirsten at least put together that Rick was one of Seth's friends coming to town from New York.

“Maybe he's just distracted—you know, getting the barbecue together and all.” Kirsten wondered why she was even speaking. First of all, it was clear the model didn't want her advice and sympathy any more than she'd want that from a table leg. And if Kirsten were truthful to herself, she knew good and well she didn't want
to encourage a relationship between Nikki and Seth. Seth sure as all-fire wasn't getting the barbecue together; rather, that was Kirsten's job, and she had the pulled-out hair to show for it.

“Distracted!” Nikki snorted. “He's the last man to turn down a night of passion. I should know. When I hit the cover of that lingerie catalog, he was all over me.”

Kirsten could definitely feel a headache coming on.

“And now,” the model rambled, half-drunk, “now he calls me all the way from New York to visit his lodge and puts me in the guest house—the cheating jerk.” Nikki looked at her. “So who is the other woman? Has he been inviting someone else up here?”

Kirsten's heart stopped.

Paling, she stammered, “I—I have no idea.”

“C'mon. I know you're just protecting the boss, but really, woman to woman, is it that actress he was seen with his last night in New York? Or is he going back to that Parisian as everyone says he will?”

Stupefied, Kirsten didn't have a clue how to answer her. She wanted to cry out that they'd shared a kiss and maybe, just maybe, the man wanted something more in a woman than a size two hardbody.

Kirsten just shook her head and shrugged and asked if she could refill the woman's glass.

Nikki handed her the empty wineglass.

Always the cool one, always the one to solve everyone else's problems, Kirsten brutally shoved aside her hope and went to get the refill. She got to the kitchen door just as the Jeep pulled up in front of the house. Seth was back. And with a bunch of partying guests that Kirsten knew she had to attend to whether she wanted to or not.

 

“So how can I get a personal assistant just like you, Ms. Meadows?” Rick Conway asked, his wolfish grin disavowed by the twinkle in his green eyes.

“You can't,” Seth interrupted, giving Rick a quelling glance as he passed him on the trail.

Kirsten wanted to laugh. They'd been on the trail for an hour. Rick, another model named Skya and a broker named Bob, who clearly had the hots for Skya, rode together with Seth and Nikki. Kirsten had been asked to lead the group, since she knew Hazel's trails better than the ranch manager.

Rick pulled his quarter horse alongside Sterling. “But on the slim chance Mr. Morgan isn't paying you a fair salary for your—ah—ser
vices, Ms. Meadows, you know you can always—”

“Ask for an increase,” Seth barked.

Rick laughed. “What is she? Your employee or a shareholder?”

“Why don't you harass Nikki instead, you dog.” Seth smirked.

“Yes, why don't you harass me, Rick—sexually is preferred,” Nikki chimed in from the back of the trail.

Kirsten cringed at the jab to Seth, but he didn't seem to notice.

“Pardon me, my lady.” Rick took off his cowboy hat and bowed his head to Kirsten. “But if I'm to be sued for harassment, I'd much prefer Nikki's lawyers than Seth's. Alas…”

He reined in his horse and left for the rear.

Kirsten giggled. Rick was funny, but what made him hopelessly charming was the fact that he made fun of himself even more than others—an unusual trait, she figured, in the mega-ego world of stockbrokers.

“I should have warned you about him. To him, his whole life is one big party.” Seth pulled Noir up alongside Kirsten's horse.

“He's fine. Not a problem.” She stole a glance at him.

Seth looked like one of the cowboys who worked on Hazel's range. He hadn't shaved, and dust from the trail coated his hat and jaw. From beneath the brim, he met her gaze with a shadowed stare.

She wished she could say that he didn't wear the dirt and grime well, but deep down she had to admit he looked even sexier than when she'd first seen him in his immaculately tailored business suit.

“After dinner we'll be going into town for a drink,” Seth said. “I figure you might like a night off before the barbecue.”

She nodded. She'd seen her mother and sister only once since she'd returned to Mystery from New York. “Thank you.”

He looked as if he wanted to say something more, but then thought better of it.

Then suddenly, as if angry at himself, he jerked Noir around and loped toward Nikki.

Kirsten didn't look back. Instead, she began a monotone travelogue of historical tidbits about the valley for the benefit of Bob and Skya, who looked as if they couldn't care less. But she cared, and she continued motoring her mouth uselessly.

Anything to keep her mind off the boss.

 

Carrie, Kirsten's sister, sat next to her on the couch, curled up in her arms. The eleven-year-old recounted the latest inexplicable fashion fad.

“And then you clip your hair up with these glittery ponytail holders and that's it.”

“I'm exhausted—and you plan on doing this to your hair every day?” Kirsten asked with a smile.

“But it'd be really cute on you,” Carrie offered.

“Not as cute as on you.”

“Dinner's ready.”

Kirsten looked up. Her mother stood by the living-room door, dressed in a denim shift and sandals. For the first time in ages, Kirsten thought, her mother didn't look tired.

“Retirement agrees with you, Mom,” she said, hugging her. “I can't remember the last time I didn't see circles under your eyes.”

“Nonsense. I'm going back to work just as soon as my hair's a little longer.” Jenn Meadows smoothed the baby-fine hair coming in around her face.

“Viola keeps her hair real short. A few whimsical pairs of earrings and you'll look great.”

“Who's Viola?” Carrie asked.

“She's Seth's housekeeper,” Kirsten answered.

Her mother looked at her quizzically. “Seth?” she asked.

“Mr. Morgan,” Kirsten added hastily.

In a move of self-preservation, she changed the subject. “Now that I've got the income, I just wanted you to know that I called about buying this place, Mom. I think I'd be so much smarter to just own this old cottage and quit throwing the money away on rent.”

“But you don't even live here, honey,” Jenn protested,

Kirsten winked at Carrie. “Yes, but you and Carrie live here—and who knows, Mr. Morgan may go out of town for months at a time. I might be back here more than you think.”

“I don't know about that. As soon as I've had a rest, I'm looking for another job.”

Kirsten sat at the table, grateful to be home if only for the evening. “When you feel up to it, Mom, you can get another job, but doesn't it feel great to know you can go out there and do something you'd enjoy rather than just something that's going to pay the rent?”

Jenn seemed overtaken with emotion. She was quiet for a long moment, then she took Kirsten's hand and squeezed it. “That would feel wonderful, darling, but you have to promise me you feel that way about working for Mr. Morgan.
Otherwise, if I found out you were miserable just to pay our rent, I don't know what I would do.”

“I love my job, Mom. Really.” Kirsten gave her a smile and quickly turned her attention to her dinner.

There was no way she was ever going to tell her mother about all the complications. In fact, looking at her mother so rested and content, Kirsten only became more determined to make her job less complicated.

She could do it, too. It would take some discipline. She'd have to rid herself of daydreams. But she could do it. Besides, in all probability, Seth would get bored with Montana and go back to New York for long stints. That would make it easier. And who knew. He and Nikki might make up and get married. That'd solve all the complications.

Heartsick, she began to eat her dinner, unaware of her mother's scrutinizing looks throughout the entire meal.

 

“There's the girl Friday right now! And hey, it
is
Friday!” Rick Conway jumped into Kirsten's path on the sidewalk.

After dinner she'd walked downtown from her mother's place so she could check on a few details before the barbecue tomorrow. James was
one of those dangling little knots. She wanted to have a promise that he wouldn't act up if he was going to play with the band. But she couldn't get anywhere now with Rick blocking her path.

“Hello, Mr. Conway. I see you've been enjoying Mystery's many authentic saloons.” She wrinkled her nose at the smell of whiskey on his breath.

“This place is fantastic. There's a good old cowboy bar on every corner.”

She smiled. “You don't have to try them all tonight—just a little tip, being a native here and all.”

“Why so formal? I know you're not as cold as you'd like to be. I mean, c'mon, you get all my jokes. How cold can you be?”

The earnestness on his face made her laugh aloud.

“See what I mean?” He took a staggering step toward her.

“Did your companions abandon you, Mr. Conway? Would you like me to call Jim to take you back to the ranch?”

“Naw. They're right behind me. Just having another spat. So what'd you do to that guy? He's really upset Nikki—I told her she could bunk with me tonight if she's as lonely as she says she is.”

“I—I—haven't done anything,” she stammered, his drunken comment catching her off guard.

“He's got his radar on you good. So good.” He snorted. “And that damn beautiful Nikki can't seem to figure out that the other woman's right under her perfect nose.”

“No—no really—” Kirsten protested.

“No—really,” he mimicked, then sobered. “Let me tell you, you seem like a nice woman. Seth's one cold jerk, and Nikki's just made for him. Just make sure you don't get yourself hurt.” Rick leaned forward and whispered, “But if you do, I'm here. I'd love to comfort you, if you know what I mean.”

She stared at him, unable to form any words. Rick's brazenness shocked her, terrified her even. She didn't want to be in a position to have to rebuff one of the boss's friends. But worst of all, his words about Seth's radar renewed the hope that she was bent on killing.

“Thanks for the advice,” was all she could say before Nikki appeared, alone, sullen and demanding.

“What are you doing in town, Kirsten?” the model snipped.

“I had the night off. I thought I'd take care of a few details for the party tomorrow.” She
lifted a manila envelope she held in her hands, stuffed with papers. “So much to do, so little time.”

“Well, we're heading back. We'll see you tomorrow.”

“Without Seth?” Rick squawked, letting the model take him by the arm and lead him away.

“He wants to stay and I want to leave,” the model announced, her every word laced with resentment. “Here are the keys to the Jeep. Do I have to spell it out for you, you lucky boy?”

Rick's eyes widened.

“C'mon.”

He followed Nikki down the street like a puppy dog.

Kirsten watched them go.

She would even have laughed if she hadn't turned around and smacked into the hard, un-yielding chest of her boss.

“L
ooking for your ship, Miss Meadows?” Seth inquired, his tone sarcastic.

Cool and collected, she didn't let him ruffle her feathers. “I was in town and thought to check on a few details for tomorrow, Mr. Morgan.”

She refused to take his bait. Clasping the manila envelope and her handbag, she made to walk around him on the sidewalk. “So, if you'll excuse me—”

“Tomorrow is a fait accompli. Take the night off.” His words were like a military order.

“I think everything should go very well tomorrow, but I still have a few personal errands to run—”

“Personal errands. What kind of personal errands do you have to run at this time of night?”

She stared at him, exasperated. “I can certainly see why you've done so well for yourself, Mr. Morgan, but bullying me will get you nothing but…”

She paused for the right words, but there were none. There wasn't anything she could threaten him with. Quitting would only hurt her at this point in her life.

“But what, Miss Meadows?” he taunted.

“My—my—my displeasure,” she retorted.

Even she had to laugh. She sounded like some nineteenth-century schoolmarm.

Grinning, he stared down at her while a couple of drunken young men rolled out of the Roundup Bar and came their way.

Not in the mood to tangle with tourists, she said, “Unless you have a task you need done, if you'll excuse me, this is my only time to take care of what I have to do in town. I've got to go.”

“How are you getting home?”

“I don't know, sir.”

He laughed out loud. The wolfish grin enticed
her and the spark returned to his wicked eyes. “You still can't walk around town alone all night. I'll go with you—for protection only.”

The drunken men passed by, one accidentally staggering into her. The manila file flew out of her hand and the young men walked on, oblivious.

“You need protection, Miss Meadows,” he confirmed as he bent and helped her gather the papers.

“Fine. Come along if you have nothing better to do than cause my displeasure,” she told him, flustered as she tried to retrieve all her papers.

“Believe me. Your pleasure is the only thing on my mind, Miss Meadows.”

She eyed him, glad they were underneath the dim street lamp and not in naked sunlight where she might read all the lust she suspected was in that last statement.

Giving up on conversation, she walked across Main Street, where the saloons were located, to Aspen Street, where most of the businesses had their offices.

The blocks were dark and desolate compared to the rowdiness of Main Street in the height of the tourist season, but she didn't mind. There was virtually no crime in Mystery. It really was pointless for Seth to come with her. She won
dered why she hadn't insisted he go his own way and she go hers, but then she forced herself not to study the motivations too closely, because she didn't really want the answers.

She stopped in front of a plate-glass-fronted office named Mountain Mortgage.

Placing her entire file in the night box, she made a display of dusting her hands of it, then said, “Okay. Mission complete. My bodyguard can breathe easy once again.”

“Are you buying a house?”

“Maybe,” was all she offered.

“Why do you need a house when you live at the ranch?”

“Because this is a free country, and employees may do anything they like after work hours, including buying property the boss may not understand that they need.”

She lifted one eyebrow and gave him a chastising look. “Does that explain it for you?”

“No. No, it does not. Does Hazel know you're buying a house?”

“I'm going to tell her if I get the loan.”

“I know you think I plan on being in New York a lot, but I'm telling you right now, Miss Meadows, that I plan on spending most of my time in Mystery, and I'll need an assistant at my quarters, not living in town.”

“I'm aware of that, Mr. Morgan.”

“Then answer me. Why are you buying a house?”

“I'm buying it for my mother and sister, okay?” she finally snapped.

Her shoulders sagged, the stress of the past couple of weeks weighing her down. “Look, I just thought now that I had a pretty good job I should buy the cottage my mom lives in so she doesn't have to pay rent any more.”

“Why can't your mom buy her own house?”

“Because she's been sick and worked to death. She needs a break, and I'm going to give her one.”

A muscle in his jaw bunched as if he were pondering her words.

Tears suddenly stung her eyes. She didn't know how she was going to handle James at the barbecue tomorrow, and handling Nikki for the past two days had taken its toll emotionally. Right then, all she could think of was that she wanted to get away from Seth Morgan as fast as she could. She wanted to lick her wounds and quell her embarrassment and sort out her lacerated emotions alone.

She turned to leave, but he pulled her into the darkened doorway of the mortgage company.

“I'll buy your mother the house. You don't
have to worry about that,” he whispered as if suddenly aware of her desire for privacy.

“I can't let you do that,” she protested, her throat thick with tears of exhaustion. “In fact, I won't let you do it. It would be improper and perhaps even unethical.”

“I want to do it.” His hands cupped her face.

She couldn't see his eyes in the darkness of the doorway. She couldn't tell if he was the Seth Morgan of substance or style at that moment, and she wasn't about to trust herself either, not when his strong touch sent an erotic rustle down her spine like the scattering of aspen leaves.

“It would take too long to pay you back,” she said, the tears beginning to well in her eyes, her strength for protest dissipating.

“Don't pay me back, then.”

She looked up at him in shock. He stared down at her, his expression urging.

Soon the tears streamed down her face and onto his knuckles, which caressed her cheeks.

A strange moment held between them.

Her exhaustion and despair were getting the better of her, and she knew it. It was getting harder and harder to think with his warm touch on her face.

But he seemed undone by her crying. His face was a hard mask of marble, his eyes shadowed
and piercing. She knew he wanted something, and it was frustrating him being unable to figure out how to go about it.

Slowly, he drew his tear-dampened knuckles across her mouth.

Her emotions raw, she was aware that now was not the time for a kiss, because she knew she couldn't protect herself from her protector.

But the kiss came anyway. And in the end, she wasn't even sure who kissed whom first. All she did know was that his lips were on hers once more, feeding her soul. And she held his mouth to hers as desperately as he held on to her.

Moaning, she allowed the kiss to deepen. His tongue licked fire into her mouth, and his arms trapped her like a cage as they moved around to her back and crushed her to him.

The want built in her like a pressure cooker. When his hand slid between the buttons of her blouse, she had no thoughts of pushing him away. She thought only of giving him more and more until she had satisfied her own growing hunger.

Another button popped open, then another and another. His hands were experienced at undressing a woman; their warmth and dexterity was enticing. Slowly he slid down her bra straps,
leaving her breasts barely held in the pink lace bra cups.

As if she was weightless, he pushed her against the plate-glass door, his hands eagerly taking their fill of her generous female flesh.

She swore she heard him groan, but her heart beat so hard, she couldn't discern any other noise. His lips took hers in a taut, intense kiss, and she felt her very being meld with his with just the union of their mouths.

Breaking the kiss, he let his tongue trail down her tearstained cheek to her neck. He licked the sensitive hollow of her throat, burning her and leaving her only with a need for more fire.

Her breath came fast when she felt his thumb caress the lacy line of the bra cup along her breast.

His mouth hardened as if he was somehow trying to hold himself back.

But it seemed no use. His hand slid between her jean-clad thighs and roughly caressed her, as if readying her, as if she needed readying. All it would take was his mouth on her nipple and she would be his.

“Don't worry about that house again, baby,” he whispered, his breath an erotic musk on her skin.

His words rained down on her like needle-sharp hail.

With an intake of breath, she suddenly seemed to snap awake.

She saw with crystal clarity what the hell she was getting into.

He was going to help her buy her mother's house, all right, and the price was going to be way more steep than the mortgage company's. And it might even take longer to pay. And the worst of it was, she had just about done it.

Just about.

Quickly she covered her breasts with her hands as they nearly fell out of her bra.

Trembling, she pulled out of the doorway.

“What happened?” he snapped, his own urges clearly setting him on the razor's edge.

“N-nothing. And nothing ever will happen. Un-understand?” she stammered.

“That's not the message I got,” he shot back.

“Well, you got the wrong message, got it?” she said defensively, the tears streaming down her face once more.

He actually seemed dumbfounded.

“And I don't need you involved in my personal business.” She backed away, her hands still covering her chest. “I plan on working for you because this is the best job I can get right
now, but you need to know I want other things out of life—
other things
—”

“The house wasn't enough?” he interrupted, all his acid cynicism filling each word.

She stared at him, unable to comprehend that a short walk could produce such emotional damage.

“Are you forcing me to quit? Is this where this is going?” she asked, defiantly wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

He released a cold laugh. “Yes, Miss Meadows, this is the rich guy's diabolical plan, don't you see? I get the whole blasted town to come to my ranch for a barbecue tomorrow with you running the show, and I force you to quit the night before the fiasco. Brilliant, isn't it?”

He walked up to her and roughly buttoned her shirt. “Let's go,” he said, taking her arm.

“Where?” she asked, heartsick and exhausted.

“Back to the ranch. You've got a lot of work to do tomorrow for me, Miss Meadows.” He gave her a caustic glance, one that sent a shiver of fear through her bones. “And if you plan on continuing as my employee, don't forget that I demand perfection.”

“I can handle perfection,” she answered in a small but cool voice.

He looked at her. His face lit up beneath the street lamp on the corner, and she swore he took her words as a challenge. The expression on his face was filled with smirking doubt, and the light that gleamed in his eyes gave no assurances.

She looked away, stumbling as she tried to keep up with him.

Certainly she could handle perfection.

But the flawed, magnificent male animal that he was—well, even she had to admit she had her doubts.