Free Who's the Boss? by Jill Shalvis Page A

she could—it was time to sell off everything she had of value, before the bank came and claimed it.
    Then she could create a whole new life for herself. A lot less luxurious life, but she could handle that. Already, she’d discovered some of the joy of taking care of herself. For one thing, her new friends—Vince, Andy, Tim, even Amy—they were all real friends. They wouldn’t desert her because she wasn’t heir to a fortune. They couldn’t care less, they just liked her.
    Her.
    That was a new and welcome surprise.
    They liked her for being Caitlin, not for where Caitlin could take them.
    It was possible that way down deep, she’d been waiting for this, wishing for the chance to prove to herself she could make it on her own, without any help.
    Seemed she was about to get her wish.
     
    DARN IT, but she was late again.
    “You had to stop to talk to that lost homeless lady,” Caitlin berated herself as she raced down the street, her purse flapping behind her. “Had to worry about her instead of yourself and your job and your undoubtedly furious boss.”
    Huffing and puffing, she dashed into the office building that housed CompuSoft. Because her lungs were threatening to explode right out of her chest, she sagged against the wall in the downstairs reception area, trying to catch her breath.
    “Close to the quarter-century mark,” she muttered out loud, “and already in pathetic shape.”
    “Caitlin? You okay?”
    Holding a hand to her chest, she turned to face a startled Vince, who had one of Amy’s scrumptious doughnuts in his hand.
    Her mouth started to water. She’d missed breakfast again.
    Amy looked concerned, too, and without a word she poured Caitlin some water, which Caitlin gratefully took. “I... will be fine... in just a...sec.”
    Vince grinned and gave her a slow once-over. “If you’re trying to get in shape, you’re too late. You already are.”
    “Well, I appreciate that,” she gasped. “But I’m not...doing this to myself on purpose, believe me. I hate exercise.” Wryly, she glanced down at her running shoes, then kicked them off. Reaching into her shoulder bag, she pulled out her high-heeled sandals. She’d been doing this every morning, changing downstairs while visiting with Amy, before going to the second floor and facing Joe.
    “Why were you running?” Vince held out his arm so that she could use it to keep her balance while she fastened her sandals.
    She grabbed on to him, feeling the bulge of muscle, the fine silk of his shirt beneath her fingers. Vince, unlike Tim, Andy and even Joe, never wore jeans to work. He was always dressed impeccably, and today was no different. The deep blue of his shirt and trousers matched his dark sapphire eyes perfectly and toned down the brilliance of his hair.
    He waited, his eyes laughing down into hers. “Was that a tough question?”
    “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, flushing when she realized he thought she’d been staring at him in frank appreciation. She did appreciate him, just not in the way he thought.
    She appreciated his friendship, because at this point in her life friendship was a new and exciting gift. Somehow, though, she knew Vince wouldn’t take it in the flattering light she meant it. “I was running because I’m late. As usual. The bus—”
    “Where’s your car?”
    “It’s gone,” she said as cheerfully as she could with a lump the size of a regulation football stuck in her throat.
    She missed her Beemer!
    “You take the bus in from the beach every day?” he asked incredulously. “That’s an awful commute, Caitlin.”
    “It’s not so bad.” What was awful was the kind and sincere horror in his voice at what she had to go through to get to work. “But the bus never seems to come on time. They say seven-fifteen, but they don’t really mean it. Now I finally get the meaning—” she huffed as she worked her second sandal on “—when they say Californian time.”
    Vince laughed as he gently supported