Beguiling the Boss(3)

Oh, hell.

She was absolutely gorgeous. A bit above average height, maybe  five-eight or so, she had a long mass of honey-blond hair, dark brown  eyes, a lovely face with well-defined features, a lush mouth and a  curvaceous body. She was basically a man's fantasy come to life.

Dammit, Marsh thought as every muscle in his body grew taut. Jennifer  Dunning was the last thing he needed within a hundred miles, let alone  inside his home. It had been over two weeks since he had forced himself  to leave the ranch and go to his office in Dallas...and as long since  he'd been with a woman. How was he going to manage this?

"Mr. Grainger?" Her voice was both cool and seductive. She extended a  slim-fingered hand and smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. What else?  "I'm Jennifer Dunning."

I was afraid you'd say that. Marsh kept the thought to himself and  offered a faint smile in return. He took her hand, surprised by her  strong grip.

Something too close to awareness caused an itch in his palm. He  released her hand and gestured for her to precede him along the walkway.

"This will lead to the kitchen," he said, trying to ignore the enticing  movement of her rounded hips as she walked ahead of him. "I thought you  might like something to drink after your long drive. We can talk  there."                       
       
           



       

"That's fine with me. I'd love a cup of coffee." She turned to offer  him another one of those heart-stopping smiles that set off every alarm  bell in Marsh's head.

The interview didn't last long. Her intelligent answers exceeded his  expectations. Marsh hired her before she had finished her coffee. He was  immediately sorry he'd done so, but dammit, he needed the help. He was a  grown man-he could keep things under control.

Couldn't he?

Jennifer Dunning was walking, talking temptation. And Marsh certainly  wasn't immune to women. Every man needed R & R now and then. But he  was confident he could handle the situation-and her. Hell, they'd be in  two separate offices located in two separate rooms.

He sighed. He'd be fine...if she turned out to be a nice, quiet assistant who did her job and stayed out of his way.

A woman who drives like that? Not a chance. "So, when can you start?"  he asked, holding out hope she would say as soon as next week.

As if she hadn't heard, Jennifer glanced around the room. "Have you found someone for the housekeeping position?"

Marsh frowned. "No, why do you ask? Does the place look that messy?"

She smiled. "Not at all. The ad online mentioned living quarters for the housekeeper attached to the house."

He nodded, curious. What was she getting at? "Yes...why?"

She didn't hesitate. "I can start tomorrow, if I can move into those  quarters until you hire a housekeeper. I have my stuff in my car."

Dead silence, for a moment. "You brought all your things with you on  the basis of an interview?" Marsh asked. "What if I hadn't hired you?"

Jennifer shrugged. "I'd have found something else, somewhere else. I'm  not in a hurry. But no, I didn't bring all my things." She flashed a  brilliant smile at him, and this one Marsh felt from his hairline to  his...never mind. "I would have needed an 18-wheeler for that."

Uh-huh, he thought, aching in all the wrong places and wondering if he  had just made the biggest mistake of his life. "Miss Dunning, are you  certain you want this job?"

"Jen," she said.

"What?"

"I prefer Jen," she answered. "And yes, I am certain. I wouldn't have  bothered interviewing if I didn't want it." She gave him a strange look.  "Why, have you changed your mind?"

"No." Marsh gave a quick shake of his head, ignoring the voice inside  himself that was telling him to take the out she'd just offered. "I  haven't changed my mind...Jen."

"Okay, then can I use the housekeeper's living quarters temporarily?"

"Yeah, sure, why not," he said. "Considering the kind of responses I've had, it might be a while."

She frowned. "Exactly what kind of responses have you received?"

He shrugged. "Oh, things like, ‘it's too isolated,' ‘too far from Dallas or any other decent-size city,' and on and on."

"Too isolated?" Jen repeated in a tone of disbelief. "There are a lot  of towns in this area. From what I gather, the entire hill country is  overrun with tourists." She paused, and seemed to size him up for a  moment, as if suddenly questioning the wisdom of what she'd just done.  "That was one of the reasons I asked if I could have the housekeeper's  quarters. I wasn't certain I could find accommodations anywhere close  by."

Marsh ignored the way she was looking at him. "Well, glad to be of help," he said, as neutrally as possible.

She relaxed and flashed that smile. "I think the location is perfect."

Marsh felt as if a cool finger had just trailed his spine. Ignoring it,  he said the first thing that jumped into his rattled mind.

"Would you like to look at the apartment now?"

"Yes, please." Finishing off her coffee, she stood and started for the door. "I'll go get my stuff."

"I'll help you," Marsh said. "Drive your car around to the garages at  the side. There's a private entrance to the apartment there."

To Marsh's surprise, Jen didn't have all that much. He had expected to  find her car packed solid with all the "necessities" most of the women  he knew needed for a week away. But Jen had two suitcases, a canvas  carry-on bag, a computer case and a midsize carton, which drew a mild  grunt from him when he hoisted it from the trunk.

"Books," she said, smiling at him.

"No kidding," Marsh said, sliding the heavy carton under one arm. "And I  was just about to tell you how light you were traveling."                       
       
           



       

"A girl's got to have her books," Jen said as she headed off in the  direction he indicated, giving him a luscious view that made him sure he  was going to regret the day Jennifer Dunning came into his life.

* * *

As they walked through the garage to the apartment, Jen took note of  the four very expensive cars parked in each bay and the workhorse truck  in the fifth one. The cars-and the garage itself-were cleaner than the  interior of the house. Jen smiled to herself as Marsh crossed the  spotless cement floor to a side door.

"Will you get the door, please? It's unlocked."

"Of course," she said, skirting around him to open it and stepping back  for him to precede her. Nodding in thanks, he started up a flight of  stairs. To her surprise, the stairway led into a long hallway inside the  house, not above the garage, as she had assumed. So, the quarters  weren't attached to the house, they were inside the house.

Mmm, she mused, maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. That  thought was immediately followed by, Oh, grow up, Jennifer, surely Mr.  Grainger wouldn't try anything with his assistant, would he? At the  thought, Jen felt a strange twinge in the pit of her stomach that wasn't  altogether unpleasant.

She ignored the sensation and decided she was being ridiculous. The door would have a lock...or so she hoped.

Dropping the suitcase, Marsh dug a ring of keys from his pocket and  removed one, unlocking and opening the door. "After you," he said,  standing back to let her pass.

"Thank you." Jen entered, pleasantly surprised by the cozy living room. She heard him sigh behind her.

"I'm sorry," he said, following her into the room. "The place needs a good cleaning. If I'd have known..."

"It's fine," she said, cutting him off. "I'll take care of it."

"Possibly I could get the young woman who used to help out once a week before the housekeeper..."

"It's all right. Really." She smiled. "I learned how to clean from the  best." Jen was on the move as she spoke, checking out the bedroom, the  bathroom, the small dining area and lastly the kitchen. He trailed  behind her.

Making a quick turn, she almost crashed into him.

"Sorry." They spoke in unison.

Jen laughed.

Marsh smiled. "So, what do you think?"

"I like it," she said. "This kitchen is fabulous."

"You can cook?"

She swung a wicked grin at him. "I'm a damn good cook. I practically grew up with the chef in my mother's kitchen."

"Uh-huh." He hesitated before saying, "I'm a disaster in the kitchen.  The last decent meal I had was in a restaurant two weeks ago."

"Too bad," she commiserated with him. "I love to cook."

"Wanna get paid for it?"

Jen frowned. "What do you mean?"