corner of his mouth tilted upward in what appeared to be a fond smile. The effect on her system was devastating.
“Yeah. I’m sure she did.” He glanced up and met her gaze, those bedroom-blue eyes of his turning assessing as he let his gaze drift slowly down her front. It was all she could do to keep from patting self-consciously at the sensible bun she’d styled her long hair into, or tugging at the hem of her conservatively cut skirt. She held her breath, waiting for some sort of reaction from him, an indication that he remembered her.
When he merely shifted his attention back to his report, the breath sagged out of her, right along with all her wishful dreams. Disheartened, she placed the papers she held on his desk. “I’ve prepared your weekly itinerary. If you’ll review it, I can answer any questions you might have.”
Without looking up, he dragged the itinerary across the top of the report he’d been reading and scanned the first page while slowly sipping his coffee. He flipped quickly through the long list of appointments, then swept the itinerary aside and focused on the report again. “Cancel ’em.”
Her brows shot up at the unexpected command. “Cancel them?” she repeated in surprise.
“Yeah. Leaving for California this afternoon. Gone for at least a week.”
She stared, thinking of all the calls she’d have to make, the egos and tempers she’d surely have to soothe when she informed the individuals that the Erik Thompson would be unable to meet with them as previously scheduled.
He glanced up, his brows drawing together in a frown of impatience when he saw that she still stood opposite his desk. “Was there something else you needed?”
She backed toward the door. “W-well, no,” she stammered. “Unless, of course, you have any other instructions for me.”
He waved a hand, hastening her exit. “No.” He swung his legs up, planting his boot heels on the polished surface of his desk, and reared back in his chair, holding the report before his face. “Not at the moment.”
Erik lowered the report to peer at the door his secretary closed behind her.
A mouse, he thought in disgust as the door snapped shut with a quiet, cautious click. A prim and proper, red-headed, scared-of-her-shadow mouse. What the hell was Mrs. H. thinking when she hired a woman like that to take her place as his secretary?
Knowing there was only one way to find out, he pushed back his chair and strode from his office.
His new secretary—the mouse, as he’d already dubbed her—glanced up from her desk as he passed by.
“Where are you going?” she asked in surprise.
“Out.”
“But you just got here!”
He ignored her and stepped onto the elevator, punching the button for the ground floor.
Twenty minutes later he was standing on the back stoop of his former secretary’s house, waiting impatiently for her to respond to his knock.
When she did, he brushed past her. “Who’s the mouse?”
“Mouse?” she repeated in confusion, closing the door behind him. “You mean the new secretary I hired for you?”
He pulled out a chair from the table and sat down. “Yeah. Her. What’s the deal?”
She seated herself in the chair next to his. “You’ve met her, then,” she said, looking pleased with herself.
“Yeah. And she’s a mouse. What were you thinking? She’ll never work out.”
“But she’s perfect,” she insisted, as if surprised by his assessment. “Very organized, extremely intelligent, loyal to a fault. Plus, she’s single and more than willing to work the odd hours your schedule demands.”
“She’s a mouse,” he repeated disagreeably. “She’ll never be able to stand up to the pressures of this job.”
“You mean she’ll never be able to withstand your temper tantrums.”
He frowned at the reprimand in her tone and snatched up a salt shaker, narrowing an eye at it as he turned it in his hand. “That, too,” he muttered, reluctant to admit that his former secretary had hit the nail on the head.
“Then maybe you ought to learn to control your temper,” she suggested, sounding more like a mother than a former employee.
Erik glanced over at her and set down the shaker, unable to suppress the half smile her scolding drew. God, but he was going to miss the old girl. “Why don’t you give up on this retirement nonsense and come back to work for me? You know as well as I do that no one can replace you.”
“Can’t. My grandchildren need me.”
“I need you,” he argued. “Those rugrats have their own mothers to take care of them. I only have you.”
“You’re a big boy,” she was quick to remind him, “and more than capable of taking care of yourself.”
He let her argument pass without comment, allowing the silence to stretch out between them. He knew it was the right tactic when she began to wring her hands.
“When was the last time you ate?” she asked uneasily.
“Can’t remember. At least a day. Maybe two.”
“Erik Thompson!” she cried, and pushed herself from the table. “For heaven’s sake,” she fussed as she bustled about, setting a griddle on the stove and turning on a burner beneath it. “A man needs food to keep up his strength.”
“Yeah, I know,” he replied, smiling smugly. “That’s why I need you.”
She pursed her lips and gave him her best you’re-not-fooling-me-for-a-minute-young-man look over her shoulder, then turned her attention to pouring pancake batter over the griddle.
Chuckling, Erik reared back in his chair and hooked his thumbs in the waist of his jeans as he glanced around the cozy kitchen. God, but he loved this room with its never-ending supply of mouthwatering aromas, ridiculous clutter of useless knickknacks, the jumble of artwork and pictures that papered the refrigerator door. He figured he’d spent more time at this table and in this room than he had in those of his childhood home, a fact that spoke volumes about his relationship with his parents.
“Have you heard anything more from Boy Wonder?” she asked as she flipped a pancake.
Erik frowned, reminded of the irritating and mysterious hacker that jumped from machine to machine and server to server, continuing to elude Erik. “Yeah. A couple of times. He’s still around, slipping in back doors and into systems where he has no business.”
“Has he done any damage?”
“None that I can determine. I figure he’s due to do something big soon, though. He’s been hanging around way too long.”
“You’ll catch him,” she told him confidently.
“Damn straight,”
