The Secretary's Bossman Bargain

“How many transport units does it have?” she asked. “Approximately?”

He watched her sail to the window. His eyes tracked her progress for a moment and then he followed her.

She was peering through the blinds, scanning the vast loading area, when he came up behind her.

He buried his face in the side of her neck and enveloped her in his arms, biting back a groan. “There are two thousand and forty cargo carriers—plus hundreds of smaller units for simpler deliveries.”

She smelled of a soft, powdery fragrance, her hair scented with his travel shampoo. The combination flew up to his hea

d like an aphrodisiac.

He’d never imagined the days they spent together would be like this. Lust and desire constantly had him on edge, true, but there was also the delightful peace and pleasure of her company.

Gently, he guided her around to face him. “As soon as we land in Chicago, I will have the funds transferred to your personal account. I want those men out of your and your father’s lives so you can be at peace. Agreed?”

A shadow descended, veiling her eyes. Inch by inch, her smile disappeared.

He cupped her face between his palms. “Something wrong with that?”

Clearly something was. She averted her gaze and gnawed on her lower lip. “Thank you, no, it’s all fine. That’s our arrangement, right?”

Pretend, she didn’t say. But his mind supplied it.

When Marcos did not deny this, Virginia lowered her face and drew away, suddenly looking very young and very vulnerable. She hugged herself tight. “I’d forgotten I’m being paid for this, that my father’s bad habits brought me here.”

Marcos knew that a woman like her didn’t easily fall into a man’s bed. Was she regretting that she had? Or only the circumstances that had brought her there?

A host of male instincts assailed him, urging him to embrace her, take her, appease her, seize the instinctive role of a man and protect her.

With a surge of dominant power, he grasped her shoulders and gave a gentle clench. “You’re worried he won’t stop gambling—that this will only be a temporary relief from your problem.”

She nodded. “I am.”

Virginia had been calling her father every day. His insides wrenched in protest at the knowledge of her suffering because of a reckless old man on a suicide mission. “How long since your father had a real job?” They strolled back into the hall, side by side.

“Since Mother died. Several years ago.”

They came into the last office—his father’s old office. Virginia probably didn’t know it had been his because of its ample size, or maybe she suspected, Marcos didn’t know. All he knew was that he couldn’t bear to look around but at the same time couldn’t leave it.

He crossed the wood floor, now covered with a shaggy white rug, and touched the window as he gazed outside. “He’s been like this ever since? Your father?”

“It’s gotten out of control recently.”

Circling around the desk, he stroked the blunt edge with his fingers—he used to sit there and listen to his father talk on the phone. Thoughtfully, he asked, “Has he tried to even get a job?”

“He did. He’s tried, but of course he’s found nothing. At least that’s what he says, but I suspect his pride won’t let him accept the kinds of jobs that have been offered to him.”

He frowned. “Sometimes you have to take what you can get.”

“I agree.” She toed the plush ends of the rug with the tip of her high heels. “I just feel he was hoping for someone to give him a chance at what he used to do. He was a good manager except he spoiled his chance.”

Second chances, Marcos thought. People spoke of them all the time, but in reality nobody offered them.

His father hadn’t offered it to him.

Nor had he offered one to his father.

Gradually, he allowed his surroundings to filter into his mind. A snapshot of Marissa beside the dormant computer. Frilly female things atop the desk. And he realized with a sinking heart that Marissa had taken possession of his father’s office.