Who's the Boss? by Jill Shalvis

the corner of his mouth, loving the feel of his warm and solid body against hers. “You’re something. All those hard muscles and that bad attitude. But you can’t fool me, Joe. You care. You feel. And you need this.” Her lips trailed over his clenched, slightly stubbled jaw, and she lingered, suddenly overwhelmed by how he made her feel. She closed her eyes and kept going, expecting him to shove her away any second, but he didn’t. Instead, he tilted his head, letting her have her way. “You need me,” she whispered.
    “You’re pressing your luck, Caitlin.” He didn’t sound very steady or very tough at the moment.
    “I don’t think so.”
    Now he did move away, capturing her busy little hands in his. “You don’t know me.” In a gesture that tore at her, he lifted their joined hands to his lips. “You don’t know the real me. All I care about, all I feel, is a passion for my work. There’s not room for anything else.”
    “Or anyone else?”
    “I don’t want anyone in my life.” He stared at her hands resting in his. “I really don’t.”
    It was hard to reconcile this man with the abrupt, gruff one that she usually saw. Both were passionate, fierce, intelligent. But this Joe... this one she could really like. She told him so.
    He let her hands go. “I don’t want you to like me.”
    “You can control your computers, Joe,” she said softly. “But you can’t control me.”
    “I can control this,” he contradicted her. “I can and I will. Because it would be a mistake, Caitlin. We would be a huge mistake. You’d get hurt, and I...”
    “Yes?” she wondered with patience. “You’d what? You’d maybe get hurt, too? Well, isn’t that what life’s all about?”
    “Dammit, we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you, and how you’d feel when it was over. Afterward.”
    Now she laughed, though without a lot of humor. “I never said I wanted you, Joe.”
    “You do.”
    She let out a genuine chuckle. “Okay, maybe I do. But don’t panic—it’s just physical. Pure and simple. I’d be crazy to want more with you.”
    But she was crazy, she thought. And she did want more, much more. She sidled up close, batted her lashes at him flirtatiously. “Come on, Joe. Let’s play.”
    “No. No way.” He nearly ran to the door.
    Just before he shut it, she called out, “So can I have the raise?”

8
     
    C AITLIN SPENT THE WEEKEND in a strange state of awareness. Friday night, she went dancing with Amy, where they met Tim and Andy and had a great time.
    Caitlin realized how much more these friends meant to her than any others she’d ever had.
    Things had changed for her, she decided. They’d changed with her father’s death, with her new job. Once she’d lived her life casually, without thought to past or future, but no longer.
    For the first time, she had people in her life who cared about the real Caitlin, not the spoiled rich one.
    Everything else—her financial woes, her worries of what would happen to her future—paled in comparison to that.
    Somehow, in the past few months, priorities had shifted.
    Now when she looked in the mirror, she no longer saw a pampered woman, but one who lived, laughed, cared....
    One who loved.
     
    BY MONDAY CAITLIN WAS already out of money—again—and very tired of taking the bus.
    To cheer herself up, she’d spent the last of her pocket change on doughnuts from Amy’s stand. And while this endeared her greatly to Tim and Andy, she didn’t imagine the scale in her bathroom was going to be so kind.
    As she went into the small office kitchen, she glanced down at herself and rolled her eyes. Even wearing one of those bras that promised to control and contain—whatever the heck that meant—she still spilled out of whatever she wore. The flowered print dress she had on today dipped a little low in front, emphasizing the problem. And was it her fault her hips strained against the soft cotton? Nope, she decided, taking another bite of a