Книга - In Love With The Boss

In Love With The Boss
Doreen Roberts


THE NINE-TO-FIVE WIFESadie Milligan wasn't the type to get involved with a sexy, arrogant man. But then, the prim-and-proper secretary had never worked for anyone like gorgeous Jordan Trent. Suddenly she found herself putting in some very wifely overtime around the house–and hoping he'd give her some very husbandly kisses in return….Jordan knew his innocent new employee had no idea of the effect she had on him. And he knew even the best boss wouldn't be able to resist breaking all the rules and romancing pretty Sadie. But if the confirmed bachelor didn't watch out, Sadie would be doing the delegating, starting with "Do you take this bride…!







It appeared that Mr. Trent had not dressed for the day... (#u37c8a7ae-0357-5ebe-addd-867f61ddd86f)Letter to Reader (#u5c102927-d9e9-5f24-b402-9fa66130d442)Title Page (#ud2d3037a-b660-5b6f-b3e9-2ff1f8f61f0c)Dedication (#u8e54a3b1-8e66-5ca6-90a6-08766d637c32)DOREEN ROBERTS (#u3b57d821-cdc5-55da-a87b-0f7ae9015298)Chapter One (#ue0f3613c-5f34-5bd6-86f0-f8ba38b16bfa)Chapter Two (#u4310e162-74c6-53ad-a7e3-ff509808ef31)Chapter Three (#u80b2d636-d4a4-5428-bc63-bb7ed0a3e4ad)Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


It appeared that Mr. Trent had not dressed for the day...

judging from the amount of bare chest Sadie could see behind the gaping folds of his robe. Looking directly into her eyes, he said, “You know, you’re a damn good-looking woman.”

Sadie blushed at the compliment. She didn’t get that many. Even if she’d been able to ignore her brothers’ teasing about being the ugly duckling of the family, her mirror revealed the inescapable truth.

Sadie was plain.

“Thank you,” she murmured, doing her best to avoid looking at his chest.

“Am I dreaming, or did someone arrange for an angel of mercy to visit me?”

Her cheeks burned. “I’m Sadie Milligan. The secretary you hired.”

She stood in awkward silence while Jordan Trent studied her with his ice-blue eyes.

“I guess I’m not dreaming,” he said at last, as a very male grin lit his handsome face.


Dear Reader,

To ring in 1998—Romance-styte!—we’ve got some new voices and some exciting new love stories from the authors you love.

Valerie Parv is best known for her Harlequin Romance and Presents novels, but The Billionaire’s Baby Chase, this month’s compelling FABULOUS FATHERS title, marks her commanding return to Silhouette! This billionaire daddy is pure alpha male...and no one—not even the heroine!—will keep him from his long-lost daughter....

Doreen Roberts’s sparkling new title, In Love with the Boss, features the classic boss/secretary theme. Discover how a no-nonsense temp catches the eye—and heart—of her wealthy brooding boss. If you want to laugh out loud, don’t miss Terry Essig’s What the Nursery Needs... In this charming story, what the heroine needs is the right man to make a baby! Hmm...

A disillusioned rancher finds himself thinking, Say You’ll Stay and Marry Me, when he falls for the beautiful wanderer who is stranded on his ranch in this emotional tale by Patti Standard. And, believe me, if you think The Bride, the Trucker and the Great Escape sounds fun, just wait till you read this engaging romantic adventure by Suzanne McMinn. And in The Sheriff with the Wyoming-Size Heart by Kathy Jacobson, emotions run high as a small-town lawman and a woman with secrets try to give romance a chance....

And there’s much more to come in 1998! I hope you enjoy our selections this month—and every month.

Happy New Year!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor

Silhouette Books

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3




In Love With The Boss

Doreen Roberts







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To Bill, for changing my life and fulfilling my dreams


DOREEN ROBERTS

lives with her husband, who is also her manager and her biggest fan, in the heart of Oregon’s Wine Valley. She believes that everyone should have a little adventure now and again to add interest to their lives. She believes in taking risks and has been known to embark on an adventure or two of her own. She is happiest, however, when she is creating stories about the biggest adventure of all—falling in love and learning to live happily ever after.








Chapter One

If there was one thing Jordan Trent hated, it was being cooped up in the rain. It rained a lot in the Northwest. It was raining now—slanting sideways across the muddy Columbia river and almost obliterating the houses tucked between the fir trees on the hills. Normally, on a day like this, Jordan would either be at the office or taking off somewhere in his red Porsche. There was always somewhere better to be than the river on a wet day. Only this wasn’t a normal day. In fact, it was probably one of the worst days Jordan could remember in his thirty-nine years.

He shifted carefully on the couch and reached for the phone. The call had to be made and he wasn’t looking forward to making it. There was just no point in putting it off any longer. Scowling, he punched out the number, then jammed the receiver to his ear.

Across town the phone rang in the plush office of Gallagher Enterprises. The line clicked open, and the low, vibrant voice of his secretary answered.

Amber Richards had the kind of looks that belonged on the cover of a girlie magazine. She had rich, auburn hair, green eyes and a body that could turn a man’s head one hundred and eighty degrees. She was also happily married to a stockbroker and her dependability, common sense and intelligence far surpassed any of Jordan’s former secretaries.

He not only relied on Amber, he genuinely liked her. He felt safe with her, secure in the knowledge that she had no designs on his money or his body. The same couldn’t be said of his former secretaries.

He’d fired more women than he cared to count because of their determined efforts to seduce him. Being single and a successful architect, he’d discovered, instantly translated into highly desirable.

Women, it appeared, did not recognize the existence of a confirmed bachelor. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that as far as most of the women he met were concerned, his healthy bank account mattered more than his buns.

“It’s me,” he muttered in answer to Amber’s polite query. “I’m on the houseboat.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Yes, something is wrong.” Her concern was somewhat comforting. She was probably the only person in the world who genuinely cared what happened to him. He liked to think it wasn’t solely because of her considerable paycheck.

“You had a bad weekend?”

“You could say that.”

“I thought you were going skiing.”

“I did. That’s what’s wrong.”

He heard the little catch in her throat. “Jordan, you didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

“Just a little.” He stared grimly at the padding of white plaster encasing his right foot. “Enough to put me out of action for a little while.”

This time the pause was more prolonged. “How long?”

“At least a month, give or take a week.”

“What in heaven’s name did you do?”

“I tried my damnedest to fly. Ended up with a broken ankle.”

“Oh, Jordan, no. How did you get to the houseboat?”

“Ambulance and cab.”

“Do you want me to drive you down to the house?”

“No, I need to be close to the office. I can’t take a whole month off and I don’t want to hobble around the office like this. I’ll need to work at home. Since I can’t drive and it would take too long to have someone drive all the way to the beach just to drop stuff off, this makes more sense. Anyway, in a small place, I won’t have to move around so much. Everything is much closer together in here.” Too close, he silently added. One cramped living area, a tiny kitchen, a bedroom that was smaller than his walk-in closet at the house, and a bathroom that made getting out of his clothes a unique and sometimes painful experience—he had to be out of his mind to think he could last a month in a house smaller than a bread box.

He’d bought the River Rat for a pittance, which was all it was worth considering its rapid state of decay. He’d planned on renovating it and selling it for a significant profit. Meanwhile, the houseboat had been somewhere to crash when he was too tired to drive to his house at the beach. Little did he imagine he’d be spending an entire month on the damn wreck.

“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in a hotel suite?” Amber asked, her voice heavy with doubt.

“Definitely. But hotels are noisy, inconvenient and public. I don’t want anyone seeing me hobbling around like this.” He could just imagine some of his female acquaintances jumping at the chance to take advantage of his vulnerability.

Amber sighed into the phone. “All right. What do you want me to bring you?”

“A new ankle.”

“Jordan, be sensible. How are you going to manage? Will Mrs. Sherborne be able to help you?”

“Mrs. Sherborne comes to the house a couple of times a week to dust, vacuum, do the laundry and cook the only home-cooked meals I eat all week. She doesn’t know this place exists. She’d go into cardiac arrest if she saw it. Besides, I can’t see her driving an hour and a half into town.”

“How about a temporary housekeeper?”

He tried to hold down his irritation. “I don’t need someone to clean house, Amber. I’m going to be stuck here for at least four weeks. I suppose I’ll be able to work from here, but I’ll need someone close at hand... a gopher. Preferably someone who knows how to use a laptop. You’ll have your hands full keeping things under control there. You’d better get me a temp.”

“All right, I’ll take care of it right away.”

He gave her a list of projects he wanted her to bring over, then hung up. He wished he could have stipulated that she send a male temp. He knew what she’d say to that. He could just hear her voice rising.

Jordan, dear, it’s very difficult to find a male temp. In any case, that’s discrimination, and a federal offense. We don’t want to be in trouble with the law now, do we?

Sometimes, Jordan thought irritably, Amber could sound very much like a mothering hen. He shifted the lump of concrete that used to be his foot to a more comfortable position. Well, he’d just have to be on his guard even more than usual. One hint that the temp wanted to get personal and she’d be off his boat so fast she wouldn’t have time to blink.

Jordan shook his head in disbelief. Four miserable weeks stuck inside this peanut shell on floats. It didn’t bear thinking about. He hoped his potential gopher had a sense of humor and the temperament of a saint. He had a nasty feeling he wasn’t going to be very good company for a while.

Sadie Milligan peered through the rain-washed windshield and wished she’d had new wipers put on the car. Actually, she’d promised herself she wouldn’t spend another penny on the old clunker. Instead, she was saving frantically to buy a reliable used model with good mileage.

She’d never been down to this part of the river, and the road was difficult to follow. It was more like a mountain trail than a road. She could hear the crunch of the tires on the gravel and winced. That would probably take care of what little tread she had left on them.

The branches of a willow brushed along her window, making her jump. Although it was late March, the heavy clouds made the day as dark as the middle of December. Ahead of her rain slanted across the road, obscuring whatever lay in her path. She had to be close to the water, she thought worriedly. She only hoped she wouldn’t drive smack into the river.

A splash of blue up front alerted her. She’d been told to watch for a bright blue mailbox, and there it was, adding a dash of color to the drooping shrubs and wet grass. She parked gingerly beside the mailbox, then peered through the windows in the direction of the river.

A dark shape loomed up out of the gloom. She couldn’t help a little spasm of excitement. She’d never been on a houseboat before. Actually, she thought, it all sounded rather romantic. She could just imagine herself lying in bed at night, gently rocking, listening to the river lap against the hull. Not that she was likely to spend a night on this one, she hastily reminded herself.

Climbing out of the car, she winced as rain dripped down inside the collar of her windbreaker. Mrs. Simpson, the dour, no-nonsense supervisor at the Helping Hands Agency, had given her terse instructions about her assignment.

A month’s contract, involving general office work, most of it on computer, and running errands for someone called Jordan Trent. That was all. Do not work overtime, do not volunteer to do extra work. Keep careful check of her hours, and send in her reports every Wednesday.

Sadie was told nothing about Mr. Trent, other than he had broken his ankle and needed assistance with his office work. She was not a nurse, Mrs. Simpson had unnecessarily reminded her, neither was she a housekeeper. She was to accept only those assignments that fell into the category of general office work or essential errands.

Sadie found the woman a little intimidating. She hoped Jordan Trent turned out to be a little more agreeable. Hooking her purse over her shoulder, she turned her jacket collar up over her ears and tramped down the path toward the murky river.

She found the houseboat somewhat of a disappointment. Not at all what she’d fondly had in mind. Badly in need of a coat of paint, it looked little more than a rundown shack on a raft. A rickety veranda ran around the corner in each direction, and a faded checkered curtain covered the one window she could see.

The whole place creaked and groaned like an exhausted old man on his deathbed. Shivering at the macabre thought, Sadie stepped along the wide ramp that led to the doorway. Look on the bright side, she told herself. The job promised to be interesting, and a welcome change from the last assignment in a crowded, stuffy office in the heart of downtown Portland.

Behind her, the wind rustled the pine needles and slapped little rivulets of water among the swirling grasses at the river’s edge. The mist was so thick she could barely make out the sullen hills beyond the opposite shore. Strange how different the river could look in the rain, she thought. It had seemed so tranquil and pretty in the sunlight.

The door of the houseboat appeared to have no bell. She pounded on the worn woodwork, listening to the wind whistling around the dilapidated walls. There was another, more modern-looking houseboat moored farther down. The bend in the river and the overhanging shrubbery hid anything else from view.

In the opposite direction lay the city, but it was too dark and hazy to see more than vague shapes in the mist. For a second or two Sadie felt a little apprehensive. She banished her qualms by pounding on the door again.

In the eerie silence that followed, she heard ducks quacking somewhere in the distance. The damp wind found its way down her neck and she shivered. Once more she hammered on the door, wondering if she had the right house. This time she heard a faint bellow from within.

“It’s open, dammit. Come on in.”

With a guilty start, Sadie turned the handle. She’d forgotten about the broken ankle. The poor man was probably bedridden.

The door opened onto a small kitchen, with a door leading off to the right It wasn’t much warmer inside the houseboat. A damp, musty odor, blending with the smell of burned food, wrinkled her nose.

Dishes and glasses filled the sink, and packages of all shapes and sizes covered every available space on the narrow counter. A saucepan half filled with muddy-looking soup sat on the stove, and a slice of burned toast rested on a chipped plate against the remains of scorched scrambled eggs.

Shuddering, Sadie felt her spirits sag. Wondering what she was walking into, she stepped over a pile of old newspapers and carefully pushed open the door.

A man, propped up by sagging pillows, sat bolt upright on an ancient, beaten-up couch. One foot, heavily encased in plaster, was propped up on a torn leather ottoman. He wore a shabby tartan robe with a blanket tucked over his lap, and he stared expectantly at her as she ventured into the cluttered room.

“Who’re you?” he demanded, slurring his words in a deep, grating voice. “The temp, I hope? About damn time, that’s all I can say.”

Sadie cast an uneasy glance at the half-empty brandy bottle waving about in his hand. She hoped he hadn’t consumed the other half at that hour in the morning. Mrs. Simpson would be shocked if she knew her latest client was a drunk.

“It’s only a little after nine,” she said briskly. “I had a little trouble finding the place. You are Mr. Trent, I presume?”

“Damn right I am.” He narrowed silver-blue eyes at her. “Can you type?”

“A hundred words a minute with ninety-nine percent accuracy.”

“Know your way around a computer?”

“Both Windows and DOS.”

“Hummph.”

He studied her a moment longer, making her feel extremely self-conscious. Judging from the amount of bare chest she could see behind the gaping folds of his robe, it appeared that Mr. Trent had not yet dressed for the day.

He certainly hadn’t shaved, since a dark stubble covered his chin, and his thick, black hair tumbled in an unruly mess over his forehead. She wondered if he could shower with a cast on his foot. Probably not. He would have to use the tub.

“How are you at rubbing backs?” he demanded, startling her out of her thoughts. Before she could answer, however, his expression suddenly changed, becoming mournful. “I can’t find my damn painkillers.” He waved the bottle at her, sloshing the contents violently around in it. “Been drinking brandy to kill the pain.”

“So I can see.” Deciding to take the initiative, Sadie stepped forward and took the bottle out of his unresisting hand. It wouldn’t hurt to lay down some ground rules, she thought. “It’s very bad for you to be drinking on an empty stomach,” she announced, remembering the scorched eggs.

Jordan Trent nodded his agreement. “Very bad to be in pain, too. Damn bad, as a matter of fact. I just wish I could find my pills.”

“I’ll find them for you. Where’s the bathroom?”

“Over there.” Her client waved an arm vaguely in the direction of a door on the other side of the room. “Through the bedroom.”

Deciding to get rid of the brandy first, Sadie took the bottle out into the kitchen and found a spot on the counter for it.

“You’re going the wrong way!” Jordan Trent bellowed.

Sadie winced. Returning to the living room, she fixed the invalid with a baleful glare. “I’m not deaf, Mr. Trent. I was simply putting the brandy away. When you address me in future, I’d appreciate it if you’d do so in a reasonable tone of voice.”

He blinked, then leaned unsteadily forward, squinting his eyes at her. “You know, you’re a damn good-looking woman.”

That settled it, Sadie thought. The man was definitely drunk. She had no illusions whatsoever about her looks. Her nose was too big, and her eyes, a nondescript brown, did nothing for her pale complexion.

As for her dark brown hair, no matter what miracle products she was tempted to use she could manage nothing better than a limp, lifeless chin-length bob. The one time she’d attempted a perm she’d spent six miserable months waiting for the frizz to grow out.

Even if she’d been able to ignore her brothers’ teasing about being the ugly duckling in a family of beauties, her mirror revealed the inescapable truth. Sadie Milligan was plain, a little overweight and would always walk in her glamorous sisters’ shadows.

Nevertheless, she blushed at Jordan Trent’s compliment. She didn’t get that many. “Thank you,” she murmured, doing her best to avoid looking at the gaping opening in his robe.

“Too bad you have such a prissy voice. What are you, a schoolteacher?”

Sadie’s cheeks burned. “My name is Sadie Milligan, and I am the temp you requested, here to assist you with your office work.”

“Well—” He tipped forward and almost fell off the couch.

Sadie took an involuntary step forward, but he managed to check his downward momentum and struggled to an upright position again.

With an obvious effort at maintaining some dignity, he said carefully, “Well, Sadie Milligan, I suggest you lose that schoolmarm dis... dis... disposition....” He stopped, frowning in a bewildered way. “What was I going to say?”

Sadie tightened her mouth. “I’ll look for your painkillers. Please don’t move until I get back. I don’t think I could lift you back onto that couch if you fell off it.”

Jordan Trent stared at her, then burst into a fit of uproarious laughter. “That’s rich,” he spluttered as she picked her way through the debris of books, papers and files that littered the floor. “‘Don’t move,’ she says. I wish to hell I could move.”

Ignoring him, Sadie opened the door and peered inside. A double bed, covered partway by a colorful, rumpled patchwork quilt, took up most of the room. The window, draped in matching fabric, looked out across the mist-enshrouded river to the opposite shore. Clothes lay scattered all over the tumbled sheets.

Apparently Mr. Trent managed to get himself in and out of bed, Sadie reflected as she edged past the foot to what she assumed was the door to the bathroom. Upon opening it, however, she was in doubt as to whether anyone could call the space inside an actual room. It was more like a broom cupboard with a tub, sink and toilet jammed together inside.

A pile of clothes topped with a pair of boots covered most of the floor space. Sadie shook her head. How anyone managed to live in such messy, confined surroundings she had no idea. She was fast losing her fantasies about owning a houseboat.

A loud bellow from the living room made her jump. Hastily she looked around the minuscule bathroom. The medicine cabinet had a cracked mirror, and two narrow glass shelves, both of which were empty. There were no pill bottles lying on the sink, or on the toilet tank, and there was nowhere else to hide them.

Sadie bent over and started picking up clothes. They felt damp to the touch, and she dropped them into the grimy tub with a shudder. Underneath a pair of jeans, she discovered the bottle of prescribed painkillers.

At least she’d found them, she thought as she closed the door on the bathroom. The problem was, she probably shouldn’t give the medication to the patient—not with all that booze in him. He’d just have to wait a few hours. She wasn’t looking forward to explaining that to him.

A loud snore greeted her as she walked back into the living room. Her client still sat where she’d left him, except now his chin was resting on his chest, and he was tipped forward at an alarming angle.

Hurrying forward, Sadie decided that sleep would be the best thing for him, until the effects of the alcohol wore off. If she could just get him into a more comfortable position, he might stay that way for an hour or two, and give her time to clean up the deplorable mess around the house.

Mrs. Simpson’s explicit instructions echoed in her mind. Ignoring the little voice that warned her she was breaking all the rules, Sadie took hold of Jordan Trent’s broad shoulders and eased him sideways until his head lay flat on the seat.

Now that he was sleeping, she couldn’t help noticing that her new employer was a good-looking man. Thin straight nose, angular jaw, and what she liked to call a poetic mouth—sensitive and sensual. Embarrassed by her unexpected appraisal, she turned her attention back to the task at hand.

Gingerly, she lifted the bandaged foot and propped it over the arm of the couch. Then, taking care to keep his lap covered with the blanket, she pulled his other leg up to join the injured one, rolling him onto his back. So far, so good. Except he looked kind of scrunched up in the middle, and his head needed to be raised.

Reaching behind the sleeping man, she tugged at the cushions jammed behind his back. She let out a startled shriek when without warning he clamped his arms around her back and pulled her down on top of him.

“Cold,” he mumbled. “Come down here and keep me warm.”

“Mr. Trent!” Sadie’s attempt at sounding outraged was embarrassingly muffled by his bare chest pressing against her face. A soft dark fuzz tickled her nose as she struggled to free herself from the tight embrace.

Mindful of his injured foot, she pried his arms open and wriggled out of his hold. Glaring down at him, she said stiffly, “I’ll get the comforter from the bed.”

His only answer was to drop one eyelid in a roguish wink.

Feeling more than a little flustered, Sadie marched into the bedroom, dragged the quilt off the bed and carried it back to the couch. Jordan Trent, judging by the closed eyes and loud snoring, appeared to be fast asleep this time.

Even so, she kept a wary eye on him while she tucked the comforter around his body. He didn’t move, and after a moment’s hesitation, she rested the back of her hand against his forehead. His skin felt cool and dry.

Satisfied, she left him sleeping and went back into the kitchen to tackle the cluttered mess in there.

An hour later she had the counters cleared, the dishes washed and stacked, and the floor picked up and wiped over as best she could with the frayed string mop she’d found propped up outside on the veranda.

The only source of heat she could find was a small electric fan heater, which turned out to be quite effective in the cramped confines of the living room. In fact, she opened the door to the bedroom and the bathroom while she worked in there, and by the time she had restored some order to the house, the whole place felt quite toasty.

Sneaking back into the living room, she peeked at the man still asleep on the couch, then began the task of picking up all the files and papers from the floor. A pair of crutches lay behind the couch. She picked them up and propped them against the wall within reach of the injured man.

After a few minutes she unearthed an expensive laptop computer from under a pile of blueprints. Obviously on loan from Jordan Trent’s office, she assumed. Casting a reproachful glance at her client, she wondered what his boss would say if he knew that an expensive piece of office equipment had been thrown on the floor and could easily have been stepped on.

She was disconcerted, to say the least, to discover Jordan Trent’s ice-blue eyes open and watching her with mild curiosity.

“Am I still dreaming,” he asked pleasantly, “or did some kind friend arrange for an angel of mercy to visit me?”

Clutching the computer to her chest, Sadie scrambled to her feet. “I hope you’re feeling better, Mr. Trent.”

“Jordan. And thank you for your concern. Apart from a dull hammering in my head and an agonizing burning sensation in my ankle, I imagine I’ll live. Now, who are you?”

Sadie put the computer down on the corner of the only table in the room. “Sadie Milligan. I’m the temp you hired. I did introduce myself earlier, but you were...not feeling very well. You probably don’t remember.”

She stood in awkward silence while Jordan Trent studied her face with narrowed eyes. “I guess I wasn’t dreaming then,” he said at last.

“Actually, you were rather drunk. Trying to replace your painkillers with brandy.”

He managed a grim smile. “That I do remember. Things got rather vague. I seem to—” He stopped short, and sent her another penetrating look. “Did I make a pass at you?”

“Not exactly. I believe you were simply trying to get warm.”

He nodded, obviously relieved. “I wouldn’t want to start off on the wrong foot.”

“Neither would I,” Sadie said emphatically.

Jordan closed his eyes as a spasm of pain crossed his face. “Seeing as I only have one good foot, that is,” he muttered.

“Oh, wait, I found your painkillers.” She hurried into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle off the counter. After running some cold water into a mug, she carried it back into the living room. “I guess it’s okay to take them now. I mean, after drinking all that alcohol...”

“I didn’t drink that much,” Jordan Trent said, taking the bottle from her. He shook two of the capsules into his hand and tossed them in his mouth.

Sadie handed him the mug and waited for him to swallow the pills. He looked a little pale, and she wondered if it was the pain in his ankle or the headache from the alcohol affecting him. “When did you last eat?” she asked abruptly.

He looked startled by the question. “Sometime last night, I guess. I tried scrambling some eggs this morning, but I had to sit down again and left them on too long. Where did you find the pills?”

“In the bathroom, underneath a pile of damp clothes.”

“Oh, those.” A look of embarrassment flitted across his face. “I threw them down there when I got home from the hospital yesterday. I apologize for the state of the place. I know it’s a mess but...” His voice trailed off as he looked around the room. “Well, I can see you’ve been busy. Did you perform the same miracle in the kitchen?”

“And the bedroom and bathroom,” Sadie said with a note of satisfaction in her voice. “Now all we have to do is get you clean and fed and—”

“Wait a minute.” He raised his hand as if to ward off any attempt by her to touch him. “Hold on one cotton-picking minute. I’m not moving off this couch. Not for you, not even for the president of the United States. I tried that this morning and I can tell you with absolute authority that the slightest movement of this ankle can cause unbearable, debilitating agony.”

Sadie lifted her chin and fixed him with the same stare she’d used on all five of her younger brothers and sisters when they’d balked at her commands. “You have to go to the bathroom sooner or later,” she said smugly.

Jordan’s dark brows raised a half inch. Before he could answer, she added, “Since your ankle is going to hurt then, you might as well get it all over in one go. You’ll be surprised how much better you’ll feel once you are showered, shaved and dressed.”

He seemed to be having trouble answering her. After a moment or two of spluttering, he muttered, “I asked for an office temp, not a nurse.”

Sadie shrugged. “I’m not a nurse. Not qualified, that is, but I’ve had lots of experience in taking care of injuries. My youngest brother broke his arm three times, and one of my sisters dislocated her shoulder, then there was the time Jason fell out of a tree and broke his wrist...”

Her client looked bewildered. “Jason?”

“My oldest brother.”

“How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

“Five.” She reeled off their names. “And I’m the eldest. I took care of all of them when they were growing up since both my parents worked and...” She let her voice trail off, disturbed by the stricken look on Jordan Trent’s face.

“What’s the matter?” she said quickly. “Are you hurting?”

He shook his head. “No, as a matter of fact the pain is easing, thanks to the pills.”

“You’re not dizzy, are you? I hope I didn’t give you the pills too soon.” Without thinking she stretched out a hand to feel his forehead, but he jerked back, avoiding her touch.

“I’m fine. But I think I need to go to the bathroom.” He started to remove the comforter, and she moved closer, ready to help him up.

Immediately he dropped the corner of the quilt and stared up at her. “I think I can manage this one on my own.”

“I don’t see how you can manage anything in that tiny bathroom.” Sadie reached for the crutches and held them out to him. “It must be quite a challenge, living in such cramped quarters.”

“I don’t live here.” Jordan struggled to lower his injured foot to the ground. “I live in a house at the beach with a master bathroom bigger than this entire miserable tub.” His words ended in a grunt of pain as he tried to stand.

“Of course you do, if you say so.” The poor man was fantasizing. She was beginning to worry that the combination of pills and booze had seriously affected his mind. Grabbing hold of his arm, she tried to steady him. “Lean on me, if it will help. I’m stronger than I look.”

He stared at her, clutching the quilt to his chest as if his life depended on his hanging on to it. “You really think I live here?”

She nodded, feeling a stab of sympathy for him. “Yes, I’m afraid you do.”

“You don’t know who I am?”

“You’re Jordan Trent,” Sadie said soothingly. “Don’t worry, it will all come back to you once the effect of the medication wears off.”

Jordan nodded slowly, as if he didn’t quite understand what she was saying. “And you’ve never heard of Gallagher Enterprises?”

Sadie shook her head. “I haven’t been in Portland long. Three weeks, actually. I don’t know much about the city. What kind of company is Gallagher Enterprises? Is that who you work for?”

She felt uneasy as she watched a strange expression creep over his face. He stared at her for several seconds without uttering a sound. Just as she was about to ask him if he needed to sit down again, he said softly, “Yes, that’s who I work for. Gallagher Enterprises. I’m a draftsman there.”

Sadie beamed in relief. “You see? I told you it would all come back. Now, you’ll need to let go of that quilt if you’re going to use these crutches.”

She looked discreetly away while Jordan dropped the quilt and adjusted his robe. “Thank you,” he murmured as he took the crutches from her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me...”

“Are you sure you don’t want my help?”

“I’m sure. I’m getting real good at this.”

She watched anxiously as he swung his long, lean body around the couch and started for the door. Unfortunately one of the crutches got hooked in the braided rug and before she could do anything to prevent it, he stumbled, toppled over and, with an explosive curse, landed smack on the floor.


Chapter Two

“Now look what you’ve done! Are you all right?” Sadie leaped toward her employer who lay quite still, sprawled inelegantly on his stomach.

“No,” his muffled voice answered carefully, “I am not all right. Not only am I in considerable pain, I am apparently unable to manage something as fundamental as reaching the bathroom. I am also finding it a little difficult to hold an intelligent conversation with my nose buried in this rug, which smells of used cat litter, by the way.”

“Here, let me help you.” Sadie grasped his shoulder with the intention of rolling him onto his back.

Jordan Trent, however, seemed to have a violent objection to being touched. Shaking off her hold, he struggled into a sitting position and looked balefully up at her. “Just give me a minute. I’ll manage.”

There was only one course of action, as far as Sadie was concerned. When someone behaved like a child, he deserved to be treated like one.

Folding her arms, she adopted a tone that had always worked well for her in the past. “Mr. Trent, I’m not here for the fun of it. I’m supposed to help you, and you are making it very difficult for me to do my job.”

“I apologize for that, Miss...whatever your name is—”

“Milligan.”

“Thank you. I’ll try not to forget again. However, I assure you I can manage to get myself to the bathroom. I managed quite well before you got here.”

“You don’t seem to be doing such a good job of it now,” Sadie calmly observed.

Jordan Trent’s face turned a dull red. “Oh, all right. Give me a hand here to get on my feet.” “Please.”

“Please give me a hand to get on my feet,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

Hiding a grin of triumph, she stepped behind him, grasped him under the armpits and shoved. It took a moment or two of struggling—Jordan Trent’s lean build was deceptive. He had to be carrying a lot of muscle weight. Eventually, however, after a lot of groaning and cursing on his part, she had him upright again and leaning heavily on his crutches.

“How did you manage to hurt your foot, anyway?” she asked him when she was sure he was balanced securely.

He avoided her gaze, concentrating on maneuvering the crutches. “I fell off a ladder.”

Poor man must have been trying to fix a hole in the roof, Sadie thought, feeling a stab of sympathy. He probably couldn’t afford to have someone do it for him.

She watched him take a step forward, terrified he might fall again. “Just be sure and lift the crutches high enough to miss the rug,” she warned, braced to grab him just in case he might topple over.

Without answering her, he hopped his way across the floor, then shuffled sideways through the door into the bedroom.

Sadie followed him, keeping a wary eye on his progress.

Jordan halted at the door of the bathroom and peered at her over his shoulder. “I’ll have to leave the crutches with you. There isn’t enough room to move in there as it is, without these two damn broomsticks getting in the way.”

She took them from him, then waited in an agony of apprehension until she heard the reassuring sound of the toilet being flushed.

A moment later the door opened and Jordan stood in the doorway, supporting himself with one hand on the frame. “Are you still here?” he mumbled, sounding as if he’d hoped she’d vanished into thin air.

Sadie sighed. The truth was, she was feeling more than a little sorry for him. Apart from his injury, it was obvious some other misfortune had happened to him, and it must have been substantial.

His speech and lofty attitude clearly told her that at one time he’d been used to a more comfortable life-style. Yet here he was, not only reduced to living in appalling conditions, more than likely half starved, but temporarily crippled, as well. Obviously his company must have felt sorry for him and hired him a temp.

It had to be terrible for a man like Jordan Trent to have to deal with such a come-down. No wonder he was so defensive and irritable. Sadie’s kind heart ached for the poor man. “You’ll feel much better when you’ve showered and shaved,” she said soothingly.

He looked as if he would like to strangle her. “Miss Milligan,” he said, speaking slowly and distinctly, “in case you haven’t noticed, there is no shower in this miserable excuse for a bathroom. Even if there were, I would not be able to use it with this lump of plaster on my foot.”

If his voice rose a fraction, Sadie chose to ignore it. Meeting his steely gaze without flinching, she said calmly, “You could use the tub if you drape your foot over the edge.”

“I could, if I were a contortionist, which I am not. Nor do I have any desire to learn how to be one. I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with my dishevelled, unwashed state for the time being.”

She gave her head a decisive shake. “I’m sorry, Mr. Trent, but I’m afraid I must insist. Not only will you feel better, it will help achieve a more professional atmosphere.”

His eyebrows arched. “I’m sorry that you find my appearance offensive. Maybe I’d better find someone less particular.”

In spite of her sympathy for his plight, Sadie was beginning to lose patience. She took a couple of steps toward him. “You know very well you’d have to wait another day to replace me. In the meantime, you’d lose valuable work time. Besides, I doubt very much if you’d find anyone else willing to take care of you like this. I’m breaking all the rules, you know.”

Jordan frowned. “If you must know, Miss Florence Nightingale, I know plenty of women who’d jump at the chance of taking care of me. Now please hand me my crutches. I’m tired and I want to go back to that uncomfortable lumpy couch and read the newspaper.”

Ignoring his wishful comment about the other women, she said evenly, “Not until you’ve bathed and shaved.”

“And just how am I supposed to accomplish that?”

“I’ll help you.”

A gleam appeared in the ice-blue eyes. “Well, that should prove interesting, to say the least.”

Feeling she’d stepped on shaky ground, Sadie lifted her chin. “I’ll fill the tub for you. If you sit on the edge and swing one foot in, you should be able to ease yourself down in there, leaving your injured foot hanging over the edge.”

For a long moment he held her gaze, while she wondered frantically what was going on in his mind, then he let out a long sigh. “All right, I can tell you’re not going to stop whining about it, so let’s get it over with. Though I warn you, if I get stuck in there, you’ll have to haul me out.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage beautifully.”

Jordan grunted. “You’ll find a large bath towel in the chest under the bed. Get it for me, will you?”

She waited pointedly until he muttered, “Please,” as an afterthought. Wondering if perhaps she hadn’t taken on more than she could handle, she went down on her knees and peered under the bed. When she stood again, the striped towel in her hand, Jordan had disappeared from the doorway.

For a moment she thought he might have managed to get back to the couch without his crutches, but when she looked in the bathroom she found him sitting on the toilet, his face white and drawn.

“Are you all right?” she asked anxiously.

“A little light-headed, that’s all.”

“I’ll cook you a meal just as soon as you get dressed,” she promised. “You’ll feel better when you’ve eaten something.”

He looked up at her, and she felt an odd tug at her heart. Right then he looked for all the world like a helpless, sulky little boy. “That’s if I manage to survive this torture,” he muttered.

She smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m quite sure you’ll be able to handle things just fine.”

He studied her in silence for a long moment, then said quietly, “Your family must miss you a great deal.”

Surprised by the comment, she shrugged. “I know I miss them, but I have to admit, it’s nice not to be constantly at their beck and call.”

“They don’t live here?”

“Lakeview. Still in Oregon, but not close enough to drop in on me every day.”

“Your husband must like that.”

“I don’t have a husband,” Sadie said, ignoring the little skip of her heart. She handed him the towel, then edged past his knees to turn on the faucets in the tub. Her mouth twitched when she envisioned Mrs. Simpson’s reaction if she walked in on them now.

She’d probably lose her job, Sadie thought as she tested the water gushing out of the tap. After adjusting the temperature to her satisfaction, she placed the stopper in the freshly cleaned drain, then straightened.

Unnerved to find Jordan Trent watching her with intense interest, she dried her hands on the hand towel. “There, that should do it.”

“Thank you, Miss Milligan.”

She frowned. “I’d rather you call me ‘Sadie’ if that’s all right with you?”

“I think I can manage that, if you’ll call me Jordan.”

She thought about that. “I guess that’s okay, though I don’t think Mrs. Simpson would approve.”

“Mrs. Simpson?”

“The battle-ax who owns the Helping Hands Agency. You know, Helping Hands. You must have talked to her when you called.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t call. That was Amber. She’s...er...the boss’s secretary.”

“Oh.” She wasn’t going to say so, but it seemed to her that if the boss could afford a secretary, he could at least pay his employee enough for him to find a decent place to live instead of this damp, rundown old boathouse. Obviously draftsmen didn’t earn as much as she’d thought they did.

“I didn’t see any soap in here,” she said, watching the water rise steadily up the sides of the tub.

“There’s some in the kitchen.”

“I’ll get it. Don’t move until I get back.”

“I have no intention of moving,” he said grimly.

Sadie hurried back to the kitchen, wondering what on earth she’d do if he couldn’t get himself out of the tub. She wasn’t feeling nearly as confident as she’d like him to believe.

In spite of his shabby surroundings, Jordan Trent still managed to present a formidable front. She couldn’t help wondering just what tragedy had reduced such a seemingly powerful man to living apparently on the edge of poverty.

Perhaps he was paying out alimony and child support to an ex-wife, and that was why he couldn’t afford a decent place to live.

Deciding that was it, since he obviously didn’t have a wife to take care of him, Sadie found the soap and headed back to the bathroom. Jordan sat where she left him, watching the water gushing into the tub.

Sadie dropped the soap into the water and turned off the faucets. “Now,” she said, beginning to feel more than a little awkward, “you should be able to manage the rest by yourself.”

He uttered a grunt of derision. “I’ll yell if I get stuck. Just remember this was all your brilliant idea.”

Praying that she wouldn’t have to help him out of the tub, Sadie scrambled out of the bathroom and left him to it.

She spent the next several minutes pacing back and forth in the tiny bedroom, listening to the sounds of splashing from the bathroom and tensed to leap in there at the slightest sound of distress.

To her immense relief, when the summons came, Jordan was already out of the tub. Still looking far too pale, he sat once more on the toilet seat. With nothing but the towel wrapped around his waist, he still managed to intimidate her.

Tiny drops of water clung to the dark fuzz on his chest, Sadie noticed before she snatched her gaze away. “Are you all right? Can I get you anything?”

“Clothes would be nice.”

“Oh, of course. Where will I find them?”

“I keep a sweat suit and clean underwear in the chest where you found the towel.”

“I’ll get them. Do you have an electric razor?”

“In the kitchen.”

“I’ll get that, too.”

Glad for an excuse to leave, Sadie hurried back to the kitchen. She was fast discovering that all her years of administering to her brothers and sisters had not prepared her for this particular situation.

Being enclosed in a small space with her half-naked employer was a challenging experience. She only hoped she could carry this off with as much composure as he seemed to enjoy.

While he was getting shaved and dressed, she examined the contents of the refrigerator. There didn’t seem to be much else in there except eggs, bacon and a carton of milk.

The freezer, however, held several frozen dinners, a couple of packets of hamburger, frozen vegetables, and a large carton of ice cream. Sorting through the packages on the counter, Sadie found a box of spaghetti and a jar of pasta sauce.

At least she had the makings for a decent meal, she thought as she collected what she needed. The microwave, much to her surprise, actually worked. It looked so ancient she imagined it had to be one of the first ever made. She threw the hamburger in there to thaw it out, then went back to the bathroom to check on Jordan.

He was waiting for her in his usual spot on the toilet seat. Freshly shaved and with his hair neatly combed back, he looked a lot more presentable. In fact, now that she took the time to really notice, Jordan Trent’s dark good looks would rival any of those hunks in the TV commercials.

Even the black sweat suit couldn’t detract from the imposing air with which he greeted her. “I was beginning to think you’d quit.”

“I am not a quitter, Mr. Trent.”

“So I see. And I seem to remember that we agreed on a first name basis.”

She didn’t know why she was having such a hard time using his first name. His home was certainly unimpressive, and he wasn’t even paying her salary. She had no need to feel intimidated by him.

She got the crutches for him and helped him back to the couch. She knew by the way he sighed when he collapsed upon it that he must still be hurting. It would be another three hours before he could take more medication, she thought, glancing at her watch.

Jordan leaned back and closed his eyes. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I do feel better now that I’m smelling sweet and clean again.”

Aware that he was making light of the situation, Sadie studied him with apprehension. His face was still white and drawn with pain. “I’ll have a hot meal ready for you in a short while,” she said, hoping that would help. “Perhaps you could take a nap while you’re waiting.”

Jordan nodded. “Good idea,” he murmured, his tone suggesting he was already half asleep.

Sadie crept away to prepare the meal.

Jordan waited until he was sure she was out of sight before opening his eyes again. His new temp was turning out to be quite a bossy little lady, he thought, his mouth twisting wryly. He hadn’t been ordered around quite like that since he was in grade school.

If he were truly honest with himself, he was beginning to enjoy all the attention. Especially since there were apparently no hidden strings. It was quite obvious Sadie Milligan had no idea who he was, and it certainly wouldn’t hurt to let her go on thinking he was broke. That way, at least he could be certain she wouldn’t be getting any wild ideas about becoming the first Mrs. Trent.

He smiled, amused by the memory of her standing over him, arms crossed, with her dark eyes flashing and that quaint bobbed haircut making her look like a refugee from the 1920s. Most of the women he met hung on his every word, anticipated his every wish and fell over themselves to please him. Sadie Milligan’s militant, no-nonsense, take-charge attitude was a refreshing change.

Mind you, he warned himself, a little of that went a long way. Sooner or later he would have to make a stand and put her in her place. Right now, however, especially since he felt weakened and annoyingly dependent, it was rather nice to lie back and let someone else run things for a while.

He was dozing when his efficient temp woke him up, holding a plate of something that smelled like heaven.

“Spaghetti Bolognaise,” she announced as he struggled to sit up, blinking at the room which seemed to have become brighter while he slept. “Not too glamorous, I’m afraid, but the best I could do with what I could find. I don’t know what you’re doing with all those awful frozen dinners in the freezer. Apart from the fact they are utterly tasteless, there’s not enough food in them to feed a rabbit.”

Jordan was inclined to agree. Looking up at her disapproving face, he felt compelled to offer some defense. “Amber brought them over on her way to work this morning. She thought they’d be easier for me to manage.”

“A large pot of stew would have been even easier.”

Jordan’s stomach gurgled at the thought. All he could think about right then was getting down him the best food he’d smelled in days.

“Here.” Sadie handed him the plate, a fork and a piece of paper towel. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that you have a tray or napkins lying around somewhere?”

He practically snatched the plate out of her hands. “This will do fine. I’ll manage.”

“All I can find to drink is instant coffee or milk.”

He almost groaned at the thought of steaming hot coffee. “I don’t mind instant.”

“I’ll get it.”

She was halfway back to the kitchen before he remembered his manners. “Aren’t you going to join me?”

“I’ll have mine in the kitchen. I decided to wash the curtains while you were napping. They were filthy.”

He winced at her note of reproval. So that explained the extra light. Now he could see that the windows were bare and sparkling clean.

He was tempted to apologize for the tatty curtains, though he had no idea why he should. The spaghetti, however, was right under his nose, and he wasted no more time. He’d wiped the plate clean by the time she returned.

She took the plate from him, and handed him a steaming cup of coffee. “Well, I’m glad to see you managed to eat it all. I’ve hung the curtains over the stove to dry, so I should be able to put them back up again before I leave.”

She started back to the kitchen, adding over her shoulder, “I’ll make a list of what you need from the supermarket and I’ll shop for you on my way in tomorrow. I’ll make you a nice pot of stew, and all you’ll have to do is heat it up after I’ve left tomorrow night.”

Warm and fed, Jordan was beginning to feel very mellow. Even the pain in his ankle seemed to be easing. Safe in the knowledge that Sadie had no ulterior motive for her attention, he could afford to be gracious. “Thank you, Sadie, I really do appreciate all you’re doing for me.” He watched with interest as a warm blush crept over her cheeks.

“You’re entirely welcome.” She disappeared before he could say any more.

Obviously she wasn’t used to compliments. No doubt she was taken for granted by her large family. The familiar stab of pain went deep and he switched his thoughts to a more practical subject. Now that he was feeling better, he was anxious to get back to work.

Apparently Sadie had the same idea, as she came out of the kitchen carrying a small briefcase. “Where would you like me to work?” she asked, glancing around the small living area with a look of apprehension on her face.

She was not a conventional beauty by any means, Jordan thought, studying her with unabashed interest. In fact, if he stood her up against the women he normally associated with, she’d be considered quite plain and even a little dowdy by comparison.

Most of the women he knew wouldn’t be caught dead in that outfit. The black skirt was way too long and the shapeless knitted blue sweater did nothing for her figure.

There was something about her, though, that caught his attention. Maybe it was her eyes, so full of warmth and concern, or that engaging quirk to her mouth when she smiled. She had the kind of full lips that always looked as if they were about to be kissed.

He’d like to see her in a tight-fitting dress, he decided. From what he’d seen, he had an idea that Sadie Milligan had the kind of voluptuous figure that most men adored and women fought all their life to lose.

“I could work in the kitchen if you prefer,” Sadie said, sounding unsure of herself for a change.

He pulled his thoughts together, aware that he’d made her uncomfortable by his scrutiny. “Oh, no, I’m sure we can find a spot for you in here. If you clear off that table, you’ll have a space to work. I realize it’s not what you’re used to, but I’m sure we can manage. Just dump everything on the floor.”

Everything, as far as he could see, was made up mainly of work papers that had occupied the floor anyway until Sadie had picked them up.

Giving him a disapproving look that almost made him smile, she carefully piled the papers onto a chair, then sat down on the other one and opened up her suitcase.

“You work for an architect, I understand,” she commented as she took out a notebook, a couple of pens, and a small alarm clock, which intrigued Jordan no end. Apparently Sadie Milligan was used to keeping strict hours.

He felt a stab of guilt, realizing that she had gone above and beyond the call of duty so far that day. “Yes, I do. It’s a partnership, actually. Quite successful, too.” He strived to keep the gratification out of his voice. It had taken a lot of sacrifice and hard work to build up his side of the business, and the company was one of the few things he’d achieved in his life that he truly took pride in.

“That’s nice.”

He’d detected a tinge of sarcasm in her voice and he frowned. “They’ve built some pretty impressive buildings in the city,” he said defensively.

“Really. They must make plenty of money then.”

“Lots of it.” He was beginning to feel a little uneasy. She was obviously leading up to something.

All he could see was her profile, but he could tell she was upset about something. His apprehension grew as he watched her apparently wrestling with her thoughts. Then she turned on him so abruptly she made him jump.

“Well, I know it’s none of my business, but I think it’s disgusting. Do they have any idea how you live? If they’ve got all this money, surely they could give you a raise to tide you over until you get back on your feet? If I were you I’d demand a raise. Or find another job. You’re an intelligent man. There must be a lot of people out there who would love to pay you well for working for them. You are certainly worth far more than those cheapskates deserve, and if I worked there I’d tell them so.”

Jordan’s jaw dropped. Never in his life had he been so passionately defended. She was wonderful. She was certainly wasting her time working as a temp. She should be studying to be a lawyer, or a politician.

Sadie, it seemed, was now regretting her outburst. Her face red, she was making a big pretense of hunting through her briefcase for something. “Sorry,” she muttered. “None of my business.”

“No, it’s all right,” Jordan assured her. “I appreciate your concern. Really.”

She gave him a faint smile, and he found himself smiling back at her, a warm glow beginning to spread around his heart. Fortunately for his peace of mind, Sadie broke the spell by reaching for the computer. “We had better do some work, I suppose, or you might not have any choice about working for... ” She looked over at him. “What’s his name?”

Jordan, still in a haze of well-being, gazed at her blankly. “Whose name?”

“The hotshot, skinflint architect you work for.”

“Er....” Jordan groped for a name and came up with his partner. “Gallagher. Richard Gallagher.” Sorry, Rich, he thought privately.

“Hmm.” Sadie flicked the computer on and sat watching it boot up. “I don’t think I like your Richard Gallagher very much.”

Jordan felt very glad he wasn’t the target of that remark. Deciding it was time to get down to some serious work, he switched his concentration onto the reports that were waiting for his attention.

He was startled a couple of hours later by the shrill alarm of Sadie’s clock. “Time for a break,” she announced as she switched it off. “You probably need to go to the bathroom again.”

He did, but he wasn’t sure he could have mentioned it in such an offhand manner. She may not have had a nurse’s training, he thought as he graciously allowed her to help him to the bathroom, but she had the bedside manner down pat.

The rest of the afternoon passed swiftly, and Jordan was surprised by how much he had accomplished when Sadie’s alarm went off again.

He expected her to grab her coat and take off. Instead, she insisted on heating up two of the frozen dinners, albeit serving them with a faint air of disgust, and then hung up the curtains again. She wrote down what seemed to be a long list of things she said he needed, and left without saying how she intended to pay for them.

Her stern command to be careful still rang in his ears, long after she’d departed. He’d never realized before how quiet was his mooring on the river, and how far from civilization. Even the blaring of his portable TV did little to dispel the gloom that settled over him as he finished the second unappetizing mess in the pitiable foil compartments.

He almost jumped out of his skin when the phone rang. Since Amber was the only one to have that number, he wasn’t surprised to hear her voice when he answered.

“Just checking in to see how you’re doing,” she said cheerfully. “How’s the temp working out?”

“She seems adequate,” Jordan said cautiously. He wasn’t about to wax poetic about his Florence Nightingale. His secretary knew him well enough to tell when he was impressed and he didn’t want her getting the wrong idea.

“I trust you’re behaving yourself?”

He frowned at that. “I never mix business with pleasure, as you very well know.”

“Good. No problems, then?”

“Not so far.”

“How are you managing for meals?”

“I’m doing fine with the frozen dinners.”

“Is there anything else you need? I could drop in tomorrow with some supplies.”

“No!” Jordan lowered his voice. “Thank you, Amber, but that won’t be necessary. Sa... Miss Milligan offered to bring in what I need.” If she can carry them all, he added inwardly.

“Sounds as if she’s taking good care of you, then.”

She didn’t know the half of it, Jordan thought with a smug smile as he replaced the receiver. He’d landed himself one heck of a deal. An efficient temp, a great cook, an attentive nurse and no strings. What else could any well-confirmed bachelor ask for?

He rubbed his hands together and leaned back on the lumpy couch. It looked as if Jordan Trent had fallen smack on his feet again. He was beginning to look forward to the next four weeks after all.


Chapter Three

Less than an hour later the phone rang again on the River Rat, startling Jordan out of his doze. Frowning, he slowly reached for it. He’d taken great care never to give out the phone number on the houseboat to anyone except Amber.

Miserable as it was, this place was his refuge whenever he needed a respite from his hectic life. He wasn’t about to have his sanctuary invaded by one of his persistent female acquaintances. Though he’d have to find another place to hide once he’d sold the old tub, he thought as he placed the receiver to his ear.

He spoke in a hoarse whisper, just in case he needed a disguise. The voice that answered him was pleasantly familiar and full of concern.

“Mr. Trent? Are you all right?”

Of course, he’d given the number to the temp agency. The alarm in Sadie Milligan’s tone was gratifying. Jordan cleared his throat. “I’m fine, Sadie, thank you. Just a frog in my throat.”

“Oh, thank goodness. I thought perhaps you’d fallen again.”

“I promised you I’d be careful.”

“Yes, well, I have the impression that you don’t always do what you’re told.”

There it was again...that delightful motherly tone that made him feel so...pampered. “Ah, but I always keep a promise.”

She laughed, a low, musical sound that seemed to ring bells along the wire. “I forgot to give you my phone number...just in case you should need help or something and can’t get anyone else.”

He reached for the pen lying on the floor next to the couch and scribbled the number down on his wrist. “Got it. Oh, I’ll settle up with you over the groceries when you get here in the morning.”

There was a short pause, then Sadie said casually, “Please, don’t worry about it. I’ll put the charges on my credit card, and you can pay me back whenever it’s convenient. I’m in no hurry.”

Realizing she thought he couldn’t afford the groceries, Jordan opened his mouth to protest. Before he could say anything, however, Sadie had wished him a breathless good-night and hung up.

Jordan replaced the receiver, feeling a tide of guilt washing over him. He’d taken this poverty thing too far. He should be ashamed of himself, taking advantage of the woman’s good nature. First thing in the morning, he promised himself, he’d tell her the truth and apologize. Maybe if he explained why he’d done it, she wouldn’t be too upset with him.

He missed her when he struggled to undress for bed. He missed her reassuring presence hovering close by, ready to leap to the rescue if he should lose his balance.

He couldn’t help wondering why someone like Sadie Milligan wasn’t married. A woman like her would be loyal to the core. There had to be men out there who appreciated a woman for her personality rather than her looks.

If he were looking for someone—which he wasn’t—he reminded himself emphatically, but if he were—looks would be way down on the list. In Jordan’s experience, most of the beautiful women he met were obsessed by their appearance, and had very little else to offer.

. He hadn’t met a woman yet with the warm, generous, sensible nature of Sadie Milligan. Well, maybe Amber came close, but she was happily married.

He went to sleep thinking about Sadie, and woke up with the eager anticipation of her arrival. While he waited for her, he browsed through the morning paper. He usually only read the sports page and the business section, but this morning he had time to kill, and flipped idly through the entertainment section.

The sight of his picture slap-dab in the middle of the page gave him a jolt of dismay. It had been taken at a charity dinner for the local arts association. The woman with him was a casual date. He’d decided that same evening not to pursue the relationship when she made it clear she was looking for a rich husband. He hadn’t seen her since.





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