Submitting to the Boss (14 page)

“Straighten your skirt, Ruby.” Holt was CEO
again, her boss, his voice flat as he popped the trunk lid. Then he
got out to help Clay stow his gear.

You’re with me now. This is mine.

She’d never felt so completely taken over by
a man. She’d always maintained her autonomy; no one
owned
Ruby Williams. She didn’t know why Holt was different, whether it
was simply his mastery or his magnetism, but she
wanted
to
be owned by him.

Yet she’d almost messed it up by getting
upset about Jessica Murphy.

The trunk lid slammed. Ruby steeled herself,
but when Clay climbed into the backseat behind her, he said,
“Thanks for taking us to the airport, Ruby.” There wasn’t a single
note in his voice through which she could discern whether he’d
known about the arrangement or not.

She turned in the seat to say, “You’re
welcome, but Holt’s doing the driving.”

“You had to get up early to bring the car
back. And I know how you feel about getting up early.”

They sounded excessively polite, but that
last comment could have been a subtle dig. She wondered if he’d
left Jessica asleep in his bed—in what used to be Ruby’s bed. Then
she looked at Holt in profile as he headed back out to the freeway.
He was such a handsome man, a perfect specimen. And he was right:
she was with him now, not Clay. She had to let go of her animosity.
The fact was that Jessica hadn’t stolen Clay; Ruby had lost him
through her own stupidity. She wasn’t going to let it happen with
Holt.

As Holt drove, the two men chattered like
CEOs and CFOs—or magpies. The goal of the investors’ conference was
to test the level of interest if West Coast decided to go out with
another public offering. You didn’t just dump a bunch of stock on
the market—especially in this economy—without knowing how it would
be received. If not planned properly, it could dilute the value of
the stock, in addition to failing to obtain the kind of money you
wanted out of it. Of course, Holt and Clay were much more
technical, but that was the gist. With that in mind, Spencer
Benedict, vice president of Marketing and Sales, and Ward Restin,
R&D VP, would also be attending. Restin would talk about the
new products they were introducing this year.

She drank in everything they said. That’s how
she learned, how she made herself more valuable to Holt. She was
more than just a secretary. She was an executive assistant in the
truest sense of the word. She knew where everything was and
everything that went on, including gossip, because sometimes a CEO
needed to know what was being bandied about.

Previously, he’d needed her in the office.
Now he needed her everywhere. She wanted it to stay that way.

Without much traffic, they practically flew
to the airport.

Holt and Clay climbed out to unload the
trunk. She could simply have slid into Holt’s vacated seat, but she
got out, too. Whereas the freeway had been relatively empty, the
airport was teeming with cars unloading, buses puffing out noxious
fumes, traffic cops blowing their whistles, travelers with
rollerboards in hand. The line at the bag drop was horrendous. Of
course, Holt had his executive club card, which would get them
through in minutes.

Standing by the trunk, Holt surveyed the
baggage on the sidewalk. It was a hell of a lot for just three
days. And men complained that women couldn’t travel light.

“Where’s my computer?” he said to no one in
particular.

The trunk was empty, and laptop case wasn’t
inside the car. Ruby remembered her snarky little comment as they
left the house.
You can carry your own bags.

“Shit,” he said mildly. “Ruby, can you have
Ward or Spence stop at the house on the way to the airport and pick
it up for me?”

The other two VPs were traveling separately.
The company had a rule that no more than two executives could
travel on the same flight. If, God forbid, the plane went down, the
management team wouldn’t be decimated.

“Sure.” She felt guilty without Holt having
to say a word. She’d been bitching at him; that’s why he’d
forgotten the computer. “You didn’t have your boarding pass in
there?”

Holt patted his jacket pocket. “No, it’s
here.” He smiled. “Thank you for worrying, dear.”

Ruby glanced at Clay, but he was already
throwing his golf bag over his shoulder and pulling out the handle
on his case.

Then Holt did the strangest thing. He slid
one arm around Ruby’s waist and hauled her up against his
chest.

“What are you doing?” she hissed. Clay would
see. But then he already knew because Holt had asked
permission.

“I’m kissing you good-bye because I won’t see
you until Monday. Five days.”

God, he felt good. She thought of the orgasm
in the car. She should have done him, too, really given him
something to remember.

He leaned in, lips to her ear. “I can smell
you on my fingers, and I can still taste you.”

Ruby opened her mouth to say something. It
was just too weird to be doing this in front of Clay. Of course,
she’d done all manner of sexual things for Clay, and with a lot of
other men. But this was different. This wasn’t about turning him
on; this was about who was the man in charge. And it wasn’t Clay
anymore.

But Holt didn’t let her get a word out. He
simply swooped in and took her mouth with a deep kiss, his tongue
on hers. She could swear she tasted herself in his kiss, too. She
forgot Clay was looking on. She forgot the cars and the people and
the noise and the exhaust fumes. There was only Holt, and she never
wanted to let him go. She wrapped her arms around him, held him
tight, gave him back the kiss with everything she had.

Then he was setting her on her feet. She felt
dazed.

“Here’s the car keys.” He had to curl her
fingers around the remote in case she dropped the whole bunch.
“I’ll call you when I get there.” Like something you’d say to a
girlfriend or a wife...but not a secretary.

Finally letting her go, Holt stepped to the
curb to grab his stuff.

She glanced at Clay. His expression was
completely unreadable. But then he’d always been that way except in
the heat of the moment. He gave her a slight nod. Holt blew her a
kiss. Then they melted into the crowd and disappeared inside the
terminal.

Back in the car, she put her fingers to her
lips and savored that kiss for one last moment before she
maneuvered into the airport traffic.

Chapter Fifteen

“Your punishment appears to be working,” Clay
said as he idly rifled through his conference registration bag,
tossing the advertising junk in a pile on the coffee table in front
of them.

It had taken Clay long enough to mention that
steamy kiss at the airport. They’d had the entire flight from San
Francisco to Phoenix, but they’d discussed business for the most
part, when Clay wasn’t flipping through paperwork.

“She’s coming around to my way of thinking,”
Holt said. The kiss had been as much for Ruby’s benefit as for
Clay’s. Holt was staking his claim in no uncertain terms. And Ruby
needed to realize that.

He took a healthy drink of the excellent
coffee the resort served. Everything was topnotch. While waiting
for Ward and Spence to arrive, they’d taken seats in the lounge,
which was filled with comfortable sofa-and-chair groupings rather
than tables. It was fronted by a wall of windows affording a
magnificent view of the golf course. How the groundskeepers managed
to keep it so damn green in this dry climate was beyond him. The
water bill must have been
astronomical
. The
weather, however, was exceptionally fine. He’d been to Phoenix in
May before and found the heat oppressive after a Bay Area spring,
but currently it wasn’t much above eighty-five. He hoped the cooler
trend continued for Saturday morning’s golf game.

“Ruby’s never really going to change,” Clay
observed.

Nothing against Clay, but Ruby needed a heavy
hand to guide her. “I have to disagree. She already has changed.
She regrets what happened.”

“I never doubted that she regretted it.”
Because of what she’d lost, that was Clay’s implication.

“I’ve decided she’s learned her lesson,” Holt
said.

Clay gave a half laugh, half snort. A group
of businessmen—and one lady— burst out with a raucous round of
laughter at precisely the same moment, as if punctuating Clay’s
nonverbal comment.

Holt didn’t take offense. “I’m ready for
something more ongoing.” He had no intention of letting Ruby go now
that he’d had her. Clay needed to accept that; so did everyone at
West Coast. So did Ruby.

Clay eyed him. “What the hell does that
mean?”

“We’re an item. Boyfriend and girlfriend. Or
whatever you call it when you’re our age. I might even think about
having her move in with me.”

“Are you crazy?” Though quiet, Clay’s voice
carried a sharp edge.

Holt gave him a long, speculative look. “No
more crazy than Jessica Murphy quitting her job so she could be
with you, her boss.”

Clay opened his mouth to fight, then closed
it, thinking a moment. “I’m in love with her.” He shrugged. “It hit
me like a ton of bricks. I’d do anything necessary to be with
her.”

“I realize that.”

For Clay, there was the question of
impropriety—cooking the books—but Holt and Ruby had no such issue.
She had no signing authority, and any problems with purchase orders
could be handled by having HR authorize her purchases.

“And you’re saying you feel that way about
Ruby?” There was a note of total incredulity in Clay’s voice.

Holt understood. In Clay’s mind, Ruby wasn’t
to be trusted. He had good reason to think that, but Holt had an
alternative view. Ruby was excellent at her job, loyal. Everything
she did was about what
he
needed. So yes, he could trust
her. As for love... “I don’t know about love. I know about desire.
I know that we’re good for each other.”

He had never gotten quite this personal with
Clay. It was simply something he didn’t do, not with anyone. They
could talk about sex—minus any graphic details—but when it came to
emotion, that was something entirely different. Yet, because of
Clay’s history with Ruby, he owed the man an explanation. “She’s
special. I want more from her.” Then he shrugged. “Maybe I’m
getting older and I don’t feel like being alone anymore. Ruby fills
a hole in me.” It was the best he could come up with.

Clay held up his hands. “Then I wish you the
best.”

Holt laughed. “I hear a
but
in
there.”

Clay shook his head, smiled. “No. You’re old
enough to know what she’s like and accept her that way.”

He knew exactly what Ruby was, and he wanted
her. He’d had her in his work life for four years. Now he wanted
her in his house, in his bed, and in every part of his life.

“Saved by the bell on a comeback for that
comment,” Clay said dryly, pointing to the lounge’s entrance.

In addition to rolling his suitcase behind
him, Ward Restin carried two computer bags. Having only recently
turned forty, he was the youngest of all West Coast’s vice
presidents.

Stopping across the coffee table, he set down
Holt’s computer case. “Here you go.” At six-one, he was a thin,
wiry man, like a boxer who didn’t have as much bulk as his
opponent, but he could move a hell of a lot faster.

“Thanks for bringing it. Take a load off.”
Holt pointed to the empty chair in their grouping. “Where’s
Spence?”

Ward took the seat, pushing his wire-rimmed
glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “We checked into our rooms,
and he’s taking his bag up, but I wanted to get you the computer
first.”

“I appreciate the trouble.”

Ward swallowed before puffing out a breath.
“Not a problem.” He closed his mouth, opened it again, then almost
as if it burst out of him, he said, “Your daughter was there. She
found it for me.” His face colored as he looked at Holt. Then he
scraped his hand back through his short brown hair, leaving furrows
that took a few seconds to settle back into place.

“She’s early,” Holt noted. “She wasn’t
supposed to arrive until Saturday afternoon.”

“Well,” Ward said, looking at the coffee
table, then over Holt’s shoulder to the view behind him. “She was
there.”

Odd. Not that Cassandra
w
ould arrive early—she always made up her own
schedule—but odd that Ward seemed flustered by the encounter. Holt
had to smile. She must have said or done something outrageous. That
was one of her favorite pastimes, scandalizing people. Her
irreverence, in addition to her sparkling nature, was one of the
things Holt loved about his daughter. He was proud of her, too. She
was making a name for herself as a fashion designer down in
L.A.

“Thanks again for the extra trip,” he
said.

Ward nodded.

Hmm. He would have seen Ruby’s car in the
driveway, too. What would he have made of that? Of course, the
obvious explanation would be that Ruby had driven herself to his
house and they’d taken his car to the airport. Then again, maybe
Ward, being over in the engineering building, had never even seen
Ruby in her Beemer.

Not that any of it mattered. Soon enough, he
was going to make sure everyone knew that Ruby had graduated from
executive assistant to so much more.

* * * * *

Ruby relaxed in her bath. Scooping up a
handful of bubbles, she lightly blew them away. Her glass of
champagne and her cell phone sat on a small table at the side of
the tub. It was a little after eight. Holt had been gone over
twelve hours, and she actually missed him. She didn’t expect him to
call until later, but she kept her phone nearby just in case.

She opened a jar of mango-scented sea salt
scrub. Raising one leg high out of the water, she smoothed her
skin. She did the other leg a
nd foot, then her
arms, and finally
her upper chest and throat. Second only to
her hands, that was where a woman showed her age.