Who’s the Boss?

badly.

“I’m tired of being alone,” she said on a sniff.

Tell her, his conscience urged. Tell her that her father didn’t abandon her on purpose, that he had no choice. Tell her you’re the jerk for not reading the letter sooner. But he’d been asked to remain silent by the only man who ever showed him kindness and he couldn’t break that promise.

Caitlin squeezed him, hiccuping, and she felt so small, so defenseless…so perfectly right in his arms.

“You smell like roses,” she said finally, sliding her hands up around his neck.

It felt so good to have her touch him, he shuddered at the contact. “I should. I took a bath in them, remember?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Those shoes were ridiculous.”

“Hey, I needed my height. Extra boost of confidence, you know.”

His smile faded as he stroked her hair and rubbed his cheek against the top of her head. He hated that she continually felt self-conscious about herself, knowing that a good portion of that just might be his fault. “Did I ever tell you I’m rather fond of petite women that I can tuck in close and wrap myself around?” He tightened his arms to prove his point.

“No.” Her voice was breathless. “You’ve told me very little about yourself.” Warily, she lifted her head. “Are you really?”

“Really.” Of its own accord, one hand skimmed down her spine, cupped her bottom and very purposely rubbed her against the painfully hard part of him that could prove his point.

Her mouth opened, as if she couldn’t get enough air.

“And here’s the really ironic part,” he told her in a stage whisper. “Curvaceous blondes are my wildest fantasy.”

She lifted her head. Her curtain of gold hair tickled his chin. Those beautiful, drenched eyes of hers met his. And heaven help him, but he recognized some of the emotion there. Need. Hunger. Desire. His body reacted with matching emotions, fast and hot, leaving him shaken, for he’d never felt that way about anyone. “Caitlin… come with me?”

“Where to?”

“My place.” He took her hand.

She resisted. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Probably not,” he agreed. “But I’m not leaving you here alone.” He hesitated, cupped her cheek and met her uncertain gaze. “Let’s stop fighting this and follow through with it for once, okay?”

She bit her lip and studied him for a long moment, searching for he could only imagine what. Apparently, she found it.

“Okay,” she whispered.

SHE FELL ASLEEP in his car on the way to his house. When she felt herself being lifted into a pair of strong arms, hoisted up against a hard, warm chest, she bit back her drowsy grin.

“Oh, Vince. I had no idea you felt so good.”

Joseph’s arms tightened around her and he growled, making her laugh. Her arms snaked around his neck, and she buried her face into his throat.

“Say my name,” he demanded.

“Joe,” she whispered obediently, winning herself a quick, hard hug. “Mmm. You smell good,” she murmured, inhaling deeply.

“You’re awake,” he accused. “Why am I carrying you into my house?”

It was a lovely house. Small, inexplicably cozy.

And messy.

She had a quick view of high vaulted ceilings, airy rooms, magazines and books scattered haphazardly throughout…his home.

Uncertain yet tingling with anticipation, she closed her eyes again.

She had the weightless sensation of going up stairs. She held him tight and kept her eyes closed. “Did I ever tell you I fantasize about this modern-day pirate?” She felt him pause, could feel the weight of his curious stare. It almost made her giggle. “He’s tall, dark and so gorgeous and he takes me into his cabin and bounces me onto the-” The sentence ended on a scream as he tossed her into the air.

She hit a soft, giving bed and bounced high. Her eyes flew open. They were in a large bedroom, with dark oak furniture. There were clothes and more books scattered around, not that the mess surprised her; she’d seen his office.

What did surprise her was that she was sprawled on the biggest bed she’d ever seen. With forest-green, soft, Joe-scented bedding that she wanted to bury her nose in.

He laughed roughly and followed her down on the bed. “Do I ravish you now, fair maiden? Or after I tie up your crew?”

“Now, please.” The words popped out of her mouth before she could stop them. He lowered himself to her, bracketing her body with his arms.

And it was then that trickle of doubt spurted. Just a trickle, though, because he was tall and dark and oh so gorgeous. “Joe, wait a sec-”

“Pirates wait for no one,” he growled in a voice that sent delicious shivers running over her skin.

His tough, lean body pressed against hers, holding her pinned where she’d dreamed about being. But that was her dream, not his. “Joe…this isn’t just because you feel sorry for me, is it?”

He blinked, then knelt in the bed, pulling her up with him so that they were face-to-face.

“What?”

“We both know I’m not exactly your type.”

He stroked her cheek. “I told you I fantasize about you. I meant it.”

“You had to say that.”

She made a move to leave the bed, and he stopped her, putting his hands on her hips. “What is this? I want you. You have to know that.”

“You don’t just feel bad because I cried?”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Taking her hand, he pressed it down between their bodies, holding it up against the fly of his jeans, and his erection. “If anyone should feel bad for anyone,” he announced, his eyes crossing with lust when she caressed him through the fabric, “then feel sorry for me. For this.” Unable to help himself, he thrust into her hand, groaning when she squeezed gently. “I’ve been in this pathetic state since the day you walked into my office weeks ago and smiled at me, and it has absolutely nothing to do with pity!”

“Oh,” she breathed, her eyes bright and luminous, sensuous and innocent at the same time. Just looking at her had heat spearing his body, weakening his limbs with a needy languor.

She kept on touching him, forbidden delight and discovery lighting her face as her fingers explored him through his jeans. “I did this to you?” she asked in wonder.

“Yeah. You,” he said, grabbing her waist. “You. Only you, Caitlin.”

Her eyes met his, full and warm. “I love you, Joe.”

It should have turned him off to hear the words, but instead they had the opposite effect. “I can’t give you more than this,” he told her, his voice rough and torn as he pushed against her hand mindlessly. “No promises. I can’t.”

“I know,” she whispered, sighing deeply when he flexed his buttocks again. “Don’t worry, Joe. This is enough for me.”

It wasn’t, shouldn’t be, and he wanted to tell her so, but then she planted her wet, open mouth on his throat and her fingers moved on him again, and he was lost to reason. Lost to anything but what she was doing to him.

Then she let him go, and he thought he would die right there on the spot. So much emotion swirled in her eyes; heat, need, desire…and then with one fluid motion, she pulled off her ribbed tank top with the happy face. She was wearing nothing beneath but glorious, proud, full curves.