In Love With Her Boss. Christie Ridgway
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her if she was attracted to him. There was probably some sort of employment code about that, not to mention what his sisters would say if they ever heard about it. His ears burned just imagining his mother’s reaction to something so bad-mannered.
“Call me Josh,” he muttered, then stalked back to his desk.
As the afternoon wore on, his mood darkened. Lori Hanson was hell on his ego. On Christmas Eve, he’d been forced into buying the first round of beers for the team because he’d been bested by a woman. He’d laughed about it, been a good sport about his friends’ ribbing, because he had no problem with strong females. Risk-taking women were trouble, but not strong ones. Until he’d turned ten and outstripped all three of his older sisters in size, they’d flattened him often enough for him to be used to it.
But to make him doubt his powers of perception! That ability to recognize when a woman liked a man and when she didn’t was the only thing a man had between himself and humiliation. Since Kay’s death he’d enjoyed the companionship of women on occasion, always with the certainty that his attention was welcome. Because he knew which women welcomed him. Always.
But now…
Now he didn’t know if he had his signals crossed or if the ones she sent out were the problem.
Sighing, he cast a look at the deepening dark outside his window, then at the clock. It was 4:55. Well, the good news was that any second now Ms. How-the-hell-do-I-know-what-she’s-thinking Hanson would be on her way home. Then he could settle down and finish all the work that he should have been finishing that afternoon.
At 5:05 she hadn’t left her desk.
At 5:20, the only movements she’d made were to run her hands through her hair and frown at the computer screen.
When it was exactly 5:30, he made himself exit his office and tell her she’d been free to leave for half an hour. She hmmed absently, wrapped up with some paperwork on her desk.
By 5:45, he considered taking all his paperwork and dumping it on her, because only one of them seemed to be able to work in the other’s presence.
At 6:00 he couldn’t take it anymore. “Ms. Hanson,” he yelled from his desk.
“Yes, Mr. Anderson?” came from the reception area.
“Josh.” He grabbed hold of his temper. “Ms. Hanson, it’s time for you to go home.”
He thought she made another one of those absent hmms. With a look at the massive amount of work he had yet to finish, he strode into the reception area. “Ms. Hanson,” he said from between his teeth. “Go home.”
She didn’t look at him. “Soon.”
“You’ve done enough for today.” While I’ve done nothing but make myself crazy. “It’s time to knock off.”
She sucked in one edge of her bottom lip. “I’ll leave when you do.”
Staring at her mouth, he knew if she stayed he’d never get anything done. Obviously, someone had sent her here to drive him over the edge. One of his competitors. One of his so-called friends. His sister Dana, who had never truly forgiven him for catching her entire Senior Prom date on audiotape.
God, now his delusional thoughts were sliding into paranoia. Exasperated, his voice came out strangled. “Ms. Hanson, what the hell is wrong with you? I tell you to go home and you stay. What is it—are you afraid of the dark?”
She stilled. Her eyelashes lifted to reveal those blue-as-some-exotic-flower eyes.
Josh’s gut twisted. Don’t, he thought, suddenly as desperate not to know any more about her as he’d been desperate to know more about her earlier. Don’t say it.
But then she did. “Yes.”
* * *
Lori knew Josh wasn’t happy as he held open Anderson Inc.’s front door for her. “You should have said something,” he grumbled, following her into the darkness.
She pretended the heat on her cheeks was from the cold night air, not her embarrassment. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m in a new place…it’s unfamiliar—”
“Don’t apologize,” he said shortly. “I should have thought of it myself.”
It wasn’t his fault. “It’s me. The dark parking lot…”
“I’m going to get one of the men to install a light out there tomorrow,” he said.
Halting on the brick walkway, she turned to him. “Oh, no—”
“Lori.” In the darkness, his body was a massive shadow, but his voice was gentle. “It’s done. But to ease your mind even more, remember this isn’t the big city. You’re in Whitehorn now.”
“Yes.” Looking up, she took a deep breath of the clean, icy air. Whitehorn, Montana. “The stars seem so clear, so close here,” she said. “It’s as if someone polished the sky.”
“Someone did,” he answered lightly. “We like things to look their best when Southern girls arrive.”
She laughed. “Well, I’m impressed. I didn’t expect it to be quite so beautiful.” With a hand, she gestured toward the building they’d exited. “I didn’t expect a construction company office to look like an old schoolhouse either.”
Josh started toward the parking lot again. “It is an old schoolhouse. Miss Lilah Anderson’s schoolhouse, as a matter of fact. Dad and I rescued it a few years ago.”
“Lilah Anderson? A relation?”
“Yep. An aunt. I forget how many greats,” Josh answered. “My sister Dana knows, though, she’s the genealogist in the family.”
“Your roots go deep in Whitehorn, then.” Lori had roots here too, roots that she wanted to reconnect to. Roots that she hoped would help her build a new life. “It must be nice.”
“Are you rootless, Lori?”
She figured he was thinking of her resumé and the many jobs she’d had and cities she’d lived in over the past years. But she didn’t want to go into that. “I don’t have a big family like you do,” she said instead. “My mother died when I was twenty-three, after a long illness. We were…alone in the world.”
And how alone she’d felt during her mother’s illness. So alone that she’d made a mistake she’d been paying for every day since.
They reached her car. Though Lori had her keys in her hand, Josh leaned against the driver’s-side door, blocking her way. Goodness. His shoulders had to be twice the size of the average man’s.
“You make me realize I shouldn’t take so much for granted,” he said. “My family’s always been there for me. And the business was always there for me, too.”
Lori dipped her hands in the pocket of her coat. “So you always wanted the business? You always wanted to build things?” She could see him, she thought, a tall gangly kid following his father around with a hammer and a hundred questions.
His grin sliced whitely through the darkness. “I wanted to be a cowboy until I was nine years old and I fell off my friend’s horse and onto my keister. Then good ol’ Smokey stomped all over my hand. Couldn’t sit down or make a fist for a week.”
“Poor baby.” Lori shook her head, amused by the picture he painted. “Though you’re ruining Montana’s image for me. I thought all western men were horsemen.”
“Yeah,” he said dryly. “Just like we all smoke Marlboros and drag our Christmas trees behind sleighs through snowy fields.”
“Wearing ten-gallon hats,” she added.
“And sheepskin jackets.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “You don’t have a sheepskin jacket? I think I’m going to