The Bachelor Boss (O'Rourke Family 3) Page 8

  Neil shook his head and she wished he wasn’t so darned gorgeous. It didn’t make sense. Looks were unimportant in the grand scheme of things, but here she was, weak in the knees over a tough-minded businessman with a cash register for a heart.

  Of course, his biological responses seemed perfectly normal.

  Very normal.

  Maybe he was human after all.

  “You haven’t messed anything up, quite the opposite,” he said. “All day long I’ve been trying to pretend I know what I’m doing here, but the truth is, I don’t have a clue. People like and trust you, they talk to you. That’s going to be as valuable on this project as anything I have to contribute. I’d like to believe I can do it all, but that isn’t realistic.”

  He seemed sincere, but Libby knew that sooner or later he’d remember she was the one who’d talked about them kissing, and things would be worse than ever when they got back to Seattle.

  Jeez, why had she opened her mouth?

  “I’m the one who suggested we could clear the air by…”

  “Kissing?”

  Great, she’d gone and opened her mouth again. Wasn’t that just swell? She’d be lucky to have a job tomorrow.

  “You wouldn’t have thought about it if I hadn’t said I was still attracted to you, and I’m the one who brought it up again. So let’s accept equal blame,” Neil said quietly. “Besides, you didn’t suggest anything I hadn’t already been thinking about.”

  “Oh.” Libby swallowed at the dark heat in his eyes.

  “We’ll just have to go about our business and try not to let it happen again.” He looked at his watch, adjusted his tie, and stomped some dust from his shoes. “It’s three forty-five. Let’s go meet with that real estate agent.”

  Libby—her head already whirling from his statement that they would have to “try” not to let another kiss happen—nodded.

  Try not to let it happen?

  Did that mean Neil O’Rourke wasn’t completely sure about something?

  That evening Libby turned into her long driveway and pressed the button of her automatic garage door opener. Thanks to her generous salary, she’d recently been able to purchase a fifteen acre lot up in the hills. Endicott was too far for commuting, but at least she lived outside of the city now.

  The two-story house looked out on a small natural lake, surrounded by woods. So far the remaining lots hadn’t been developed by the owner, so she didn’t have any close neighbors. It suited her. She loved the peace and quiet and the animals that came to drink at the lake…though right now it seemed awfully lonely.

  She let herself into the house and her cat, Bilbo, abruptly leapt into her arms.

  “Lord, you have to give me more warning,” Libby scolded softly, staggering slightly beneath the feline’s twenty-nine pounds of muscles and energy. Bilbo was a lovable goofball who snuggled with her at night and complained loudly when she left in the morning.

  His purr rumbled out and she sat down with him draped over her stomach and arms.

  Neil had put options on all three of the houses they’d looked at, options held with his personal check. He’d begun haggling over the price on the properties until she’d kicked him under the table. The asking price was dirt cheap, and getting them any cheaper wouldn’t benefit their second goal of community development.

  “I kicked him, Bilbo,” Libby mumbled.

  The feline butted her chin and she scratched his neck.

  “After everything that happened, I lost my cool and kicked him. Of course, he deserved to be kicked,” she added quickly. “The price was more than fair.”

  “Maarrroow.”

  “I know, Neil is in charge, and I should have been more subtle.”

  With a sensuous twist of his body, Bilbo turned over on his back, his legs sprawling in four directions. He wasn’t much on subtlety, either.

  Libby leaned back and closed her eyes. After spending the day with Neil her emotions and peace of mind were twisted beyond recognition. What surprised her the most was the way he was trying to accept her advice and make changes in the way he did things.

  She hadn’t thought Neil was capable of change.

  The fact that he seemed to be trying was encouraging. They might be able to work together after all, though she must have lost her mind to suggest that a kiss would diminish their attraction. Her body hummed with awareness, worse than before, and she fairly ached to have his hands on her body.

  “Nothing worse than a frustrated virgin,” she grumbled to Bilbo.

  He let out a faint snore. Now that she was home, the essential ingredients to his happiness were complete—food, a warm place to sleep, and unconditional love. If he could get two of them in the same place—Libby’s lap—then he was in cat heaven.

  Careful not to disturb the snoozing feline, Libby kicked off her shoes and willed herself to relax.

  A little rebellion was natural. She’d worked hard and always tried to do the right thing, now she wanted to explore the part of her life she’d neglected. No orgies, just a little old-fashioned heat and sizzle under the blankets with the right man.

  Instead she’d gone and kissed the wrong man.

  She really didn’t have this rebellion thing worked out too well.

  By Thursday Libby was getting restless. Her body still hummed when she came within twenty feet of Neil and she’d dreamed every night of that heated moment in the huckleberry patch.

  Sighing, she opened the market analysis they’d requested from the research staff. There weren’t any surprises; it said there was great potential in Endicott for one or more bed-and-breakfast inns, which Neil had probably already guessed.

  Getting up she went to his office next door, only to stop when she saw that Margie Clarke’s personal belongings were absent. Libby took an envelope from the corner of Margie’s desk and saw “Neil O’Rourke” scrawled across it.

  Swell.

  She knocked and went in when he called out.

  “I finished reading the market report,” she said.

  Neil smiled at Libby. He was still struggling with his reaction to her, but he was pretty sure she didn’t know about it. “Why didn’t Margie let me know you were waiting?”

  “Because she isn’t here. All her things are gone, and I found this on her desk.” Libby handed him the envelope.

  Inside was a resignation letter, effective immediately.

  “Dammit. Why didn’t she just talk to me? I could have had another secretary up here by now.”

  “Probably because she knew that would be your response,” Libby said dryly. “How it would affect you. Margie has other things on her mind besides your feelings, like a daughter with kidney failure who isn’t responding well to dialysis.”

  Neil swallowed a flash of embarrassment; he didn’t enjoy the feeling he’d come up short in Libby’s eyes. “I asked her if everything was all right.”

  Libby gave him an inscrutable look. “No doubt in a tone of voice that said you’d commit hari kari if she actually told you what was wrong.”

  Ouch.

  That was true.

  Hell, he wasn’t good with the one-on-one, touchy-feely sort of stuff. On the other hand, Libby was a preacher’s daughter who excelled in “touchy-feely.”

  “Er…Libby, I don’t suppose you could…?”

  “Talk to Margie?”

  “Yeah. I don’t want her to quit because of her daughter. If she needs time off, of course she can have it.”

  It would be a pain, especially with the reorganization of the company starting so soon, though Neil couldn’t blame Margie. He usually figured someone’s personal life should stay out of the office, but when your kid was critically ill…Nobody could be expected to keep that out of the office.

  “All right. I’ll contact her this afternoon.”

  Libby made a notation on her pad, pleased Neil was making an effort to be understanding. A few weeks ago he would have handled things much differently.

  “By the way, Kane says I shou
ld pick an assistant as part of my new position,” Libby said. “Maybe I can take Margie, and you can work with someone else who doesn’t have family issues.”

  His jaw tightened. “You don’t think I can be sensitive enough with her, do you?”

  Personally, Libby thought Neil had the sensitivity of a brick, but it wouldn’t help to say so. He might be trying to change, but he had a long way to go before he qualified as boss of the year.

  “If Margie decides to come back, she’d probably be more comfortable with me, especially on days when she has to call in unexpectedly,” she said. She was congratulating herself on how carefully she’d spoken when Neil shook his head.

  “No. It’s my problem. Just convince her to come back. Someone else can handle her workload when she has to be gone.”

  Libby’s took several breaths to help her calm down. The man was so dense. How he could have such a brilliant business mind and still not have a clue, she didn’t know.

  “Margie is the one with a problem, not you. How do you expect her to feel if you approach her with that attitude?”

  “Just tell—”

  “If you want Margie to come back, you tell her. Say you didn’t know about her daughter, that you understand how rough it is, and want to be part of the solution, not the problem,” Libby said furiously. “She doesn’t need to feel guilty right now because you’re inconvenienced.”

  Neil leaned back in his chair, fascinated. Libby’s chest rose and fell with anger, her green eyes were the color of flawless emeralds, and a pink flush that had nothing to do with shy embarrassment was flooding her cheeks.

  “All right,” he said. “I’ll talk to Margie.”

  “You…will?” She sounded surprised.

  “Yes. You don’t think I can do it. I’ll show you I can.”

  The anger fled Libby’s eyes, yet it seemed to have been replaced by disappointment.

  What the hell had he done wrong now?

  Chapter Seven

  Before Neil could ask Libby what was wrong, she shrugged. “I see,” she murmured. “Do you want to talk about the market analysis for Endicott?”

  He wanted to know why she looked so disappointed, yet at the same time he didn’t want to know why her good opinion mattered so much to him. It was just like the other night; she’d said goodbye very politely, then thanked him for being nice to her parents.

  What had she expected, he’d be rude to them?

  Was that why she’d been so reluctant to have lunch with her mom and dad? He’d spent hours wondering what she’d meant about being “nice,” when he should have been thinking about other things.

  “Actually, I just heard from Kane,” Neil said. “He likes our ideas on setting up the division. And we have accounts established now for the B and B project, so we can go ahead and start acquiring properties and contracting for the necessary work.”

  Libby nodded, her face showing no emotion whatsoever. “That’s good. I talked to Endicott Construction this morning. They’re interested in a contract for Huckleberry House as long as we get a restoration specialist to consult with them. Have you decided anything about the other two houses? I presume we’re going ahead on Huckleberry House since both the market report and structural analysis were positive.”

  He remained silent for a long minute.

  “Neil?”

  “Yeah, I’ve made up my mind.”

  It probably wasn’t the best decision to acquire all three properties in Endicott, so he’d decided to take the largest two for the company, and keep the third as a weekend retreat unless they decided it would be needed.

  The thought of something so rural would have dismayed him before he’d gone on that scouting trip with Libby, but he was seeing things differently now. There was a peace in the mountains, a flow of natural rhythms that were older than the ice-capped peaks, and just as strong.

  He could always sell or lease the house if he changed his mind, or discovered he didn’t use it. Giving into an impulse of the moment wasn’t like him, but he’d never experienced a more erotic moment than when he’d eaten that huckleberry, warm and scented from Libby’s breast.

  Damn.

  Neil groaned silently. No matter how often he swore he wouldn’t think about their kiss, he couldn’t stop remembering. If Libby knew she’d slap his face so hard she’d hurt her hand, then say something sarcastic about his obsession with sex. He didn’t know, maybe men did think about sex more than women.

  “And…?” Libby prompted, yanking him back to the cool sterility of his office. “Which ones are we buying?”

  “Huckleberry House and the place on Salish street,” he murmured. “I can’t believe we’re getting them for so little.”

  “You still wanted to dicker the price down further.”

  “Yeah, but I shut up when you kicked me.”

  A light pink flush spread across her cheeks. “I just thought…that is, we’re supposed to be thinking about community revitalization as well as starting the line of inns, so it didn’t seem like a good idea to get sticky about an already fair price.”

  “You were right,” Neil acknowledged and watched her eyes widen.

  There were a number of things he struggled with, and admitting he was wrong was one of them. Yet somehow it seemed easier with Libby. Maybe because he’d already told her how it felt to be the boss’s brother, always needing to prove himself.

  Or maybe it was because she’d declared so adamantly that he didn’t have anything to prove. He didn’t think it was true—especially when it came to her—but it was nice to hear. Besides, he had a feeling the things he needed to prove to Libby had less to do with business, more to do with something more personal.

  “Let’s work out the itinerary for our next few scouting trips,” he said.

  An hour later Libby looked at the clock and stretched. “It’s lunchtime. Can we finish this later? I need to do some errands.”

  “Of course.”

  He would have liked to suggest they order a meal brought in and keep working, but Libby had a great deal of responsibility in her private life. He didn’t want to put her in the position of explaining what her errands were about, and whether they could be put off until another day.

  But it wasn’t until the door had closed behind her that Neil realized he’d put Libby’s priorities ahead of his own, and ahead of the business.

  A soft whistle issued through his lips.

  The world seemed to be settling into a different orbit, with the scent of Libby’s perfume streaming behind it like a jet’s vapor trail.

  And all at once he understood her disappointment earlier over what he’d said about Margie Clarke. Margie’s problems weren’t about him, and showing he could handle it satisfactorily wasn’t the point. The point was to help a loyal and hardworking employee deal with a devastating crisis.

  Neil opened the company’s personnel roster and found Margie’s name and home phone number.

  He quickly punched the buttons and waited.

  “Margie?” he said when she answered. “This is Neil O’Rourke. I want to discuss how we can help you through a tough time. But let’s talk about something even more important first…how is your daughter doing?”

  Libby hurried into her office and smiled at the building guard who’d insisted on carrying her parcels up from the lobby.

  “Put those down anywhere, Ted. I appreciate the help.”

  “Delighted, Libby. Though I have to admit I feel a little funny carrying bags from some of these stores.” Ted grinned and set everything down on her desk.

  She couldn’t blame him. He was a burly, six-foot-four-inch security specialist who’d probably felt silly carrying the very feminine shopping bags with their dainty handles, pastel colors and trailing tissue paper.

  “This stuff is for Jeanine’s wedding shower tomorrow,” she said, “so don’t say a word. I’m in charge of the party and it’s supposed to be a surprise.”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  As he walked
out Libby flopped down into a chair and fanned herself. Though the weather had turned cool, she’d rushed so quickly through her shopping she felt warm and flushed. Or maybe it was thinking about the personal item she’d gotten at the exclusive lingerie store at the same time she’d picked out her gift to Jeanine.

  She had zero need for a green silk nightgown that exposed more skin that it covered. It was elegant, but it clung and scooped and drew attention to areas she normally wanted concealed. Nightgowns like that weren’t for wearing alone, they were designed to please a man. Of course, some women would say that was a sexist attitude and you should dress to please yourself.

  “Women’s lib be darned,” Libby said. Sometimes a woman dressed to please a man, it was as simple as that.

  Except the only male who would see her in that nightgown was a twenty-nine pound feline who wouldn’t care what it “almost” revealed.

  “Boy, is that pathetic, or what?” She was trying to decided how pathetic when her phone rang.

  “Libby Dumont, New Developments Division,” she said.

  “Hi, Libby, this is Margie.”

  Margie sounded brighter than she had in weeks, but Libby didn’t have time to collect her thoughts before the other woman rushed on.

  “I just got off the phone with Neil and he was so wonderful. We talked for over an hour, and he’s going to call a renal specialist he knows in New York to go over Sally’s medical files. I couldn’t imagine talking to him for even five minutes before, but it was so comfortable. He said not to worry when I couldn’t make it to work, that I should just leave a message if I can’t reach him and then let personnel know so they could send someone up to cover the phones. Isn’t that great of him?”

  “Uh…yes.”

  Libby listened in stunned silence as Margie gave a blow-by-blow description of her conversation with Neil, mixed with accolades about her new boss who apparently had developed the ability to walk on water.

  Neil?

  They were talking about the same Neil O’Rourke who turned up his nose about marriage and acted as if a spouse and children would be the biggest sacrifice of his life?