Crazy About The Boss. Teresa Southwick
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darkening them. And it hit her like a bolt of lightning from a clear blue sky that her crush could be resurrected without him lifting a finger.
His brother had called her feisty, but she didn’t feel that way at the moment. She could meet men in business and go toe to toe. She could talk capital and investments with Jack and give as good as she got. But something had shifted for her tonight and she wasn’t entirely sure what it was or how it happened. She just knew the sight of him produced a tickle low in her belly and she was aware of him in a way that she shouldn’t be.
“I’m not very hungry. It’s getting late. I’ll just—”
“We’re still on New York time. And after leaving the restaurant you clearly expressed your displeasure about not staying because the unbelievably scrumptious smells made your mouth water.”
Not as much as now, she thought, forcing her gaze from the width of his chest. She’d seen him in sweaters before. She’d seen him in jeans. But she’d never seen him angry enough to do battle. And after battle warriors had an overabundance of adrenaline to channel into other activities. Physical, intimate activities. How inconvenient for her that she was handy, yet exciting for her at the same time, which just meant that she needed serious therapy.
“The scrumptious smells are gone. And since when do you pay attention to my whining?”
“Did I say whining?”
“No, but that’s what you meant. It’s a flaw. I’m working on it,” she informed him.
“Speaking of work, I’m the boss. And you need to eat. I’m not a heartless slave-driver.”
“And you’re attempting to prove that by making sure your indentured subordinate is well nourished and has the strength to give you the last ounce of blood?” she asked, indicating the food on the table.
One of his dark eyebrows lifted. “When did you develop a flair for the dramatic?”
“I’ve always had it.”
But seeing a different side of Jack had unleashed it. She knew his business background and venture-capitalist-on-the-rise story, but until today she hadn’t realized how little she knew about him personally. She’d shared details of her life but he never had, unless it had been about the female of the month. The arm candy never lasted much longer than that before he ended things and it didn’t affect her. Except for the occasional overly emotional cast-off who had trouble dealing with Jack’s rejection and came to Maddie for consolation, in the form of an old-fashioned session of male-bashing.
But this male didn’t look as if he’d take no for an answer. If he ever made up his mind that he wanted more from her than simply sharing a meal, she’d be in a lot of trouble. She’d never been more grateful that she wasn’t his type.
“Okay, Jack. Let’s eat.” She picked a chair, then sat and lifted the metal covering over the plate. “Christmas dinner,” she said, surveying turkey with all the trimmings.
When she started eating, Maddie found she was hungry and the food was delicious. “Who’d have guessed hotel room service on a holiday could be so yummy?”
“In a five-star hotel one doesn’t have to guess. One counts on it, which is why one stays there.”
“If one can afford it.” She knew Jack could afford it.
They ate in silence for a few moments, then Maddie made the mistake of looking at him. The brooding expression on his face tugged at her, because Jack didn’t brood, and again she was amazed by how little she knew him. On the one hand she was safer not learning anything new. On the other, that damn dark expression on his face made her want to do something to make it go away.
“So can we talk about your family?” she asked.
“No.”
She dragged her fork through the mashed potatoes so the dammed up gravy could escape. Glancing at Jack, she realized he looked like a man with dammed-up feelings in need of release. And that was why she couldn’t take no for an answer. “I thought you were going to deck your dad.”
His gaze narrowed on her. “Did you now?”
She noted that he’d elevated the non-answer to an art form. “You never told me you had parents.”
“Everyone does. It seemed that confirming the obvious was an insult to your intelligence.”
His smile held no humor and made her shiver. But that didn’t stop her. “I guess your parents are divorced? So where’s your mother?”
“Dublin.” He cut a piece of turkey and forked it into his mouth, his gaze not leaving hers as he chewed.
“Are you going to see her?”
“I suspect I’ll have occasion to visit.”
She took a hearty drink of the wine he’d poured. “I meant while we’re here.”
“Technically this isn’t Ireland. London is in England.”
“Thanks for the geography lesson.” She knew he was deliberately trying to sidetrack her. She knew he could chew her up and spit her out if the focus he turned on her got personal. But she’d developed a tough façade so that he didn’t walk all over her and was never more grateful than right now. “Just so you know, the British accents were a big clue for me. To put a finer point on it, I meant since we’re so close, are you going to visit?”
“There’s a time issue. I’m not sure—”
“For God’s sake, Jack, we came all this way. To pop over to Ireland is like going from New York to New Jersey.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Maddie studied the dark look. Jack acted on instinct, gut feeling, deciding yes or no in a split second. He didn’t think about it. That was her job. She knew he’d already made up his mind and decided to change the subject. For now.
“I liked Emma.” She finished the wine in her glass and he refilled it. “She seems nice.”
“I don’t want to talk about my family.”
As if she needed it, there was another red flag that something wasn’t right with him. He was normally open and honest, too honest. On a regular basis he told her more than she wanted to know about his current woman. But now he was closed off and detached. What was up with that?
And the way he was looking at her… Maddie had shared dinner with him before, but not like this. They’d ordered in at work, and on the intimate scale it had never even registered. But this was intimate. God knew she wasn’t experienced, but she’d have to be a moron not to feel the pent up sexual energy in him. And all that energy directed at her seemed to be affecting her brain function, which no man had managed to do since college. She had to deflect it somehow.
“Tell me about Max?”
Something flared hot in his eyes, burning through the shadows. “What about him?”
“Well, for one thing, he’s very cute.”
“Looks can be deceiving.”
“Speaking of looks,” she said, “there’s a family resemblance. Does he treat women like tissues, too?”
“Tissues?”
“Disposable—like tissues.”
“Max isn’t your type,” he said again.
“How do you know what my type is?”
“I’ve met one or two. The accountant.” He sipped his wine as he thought for a moment. “The computer geek. The chemistry professor. There was no chemistry. With any of them.”
“Like they’re going to show chemistry in front of my boss.”
“If the spark is there, one can’t hide it.”
“A