Now, that’s a body, Caitlin thought enviously. All lean and toned-no extra curves there! She was just thinking how lovely the waist-length, heavy sable hair was when the woman turned to her…and frowned.

Caitlin recognized that frown, and its disapproval.

Joe gave it to her all the time. She stiffened in automatic response.

“This is Darla,” Vince told her. “She’s the accountant in the building. And Darla, this is Caitlin. Our secretary.”

Caitlin smiled, but it wasn’t her usual genuine, shining one because she felt suddenly drained.

“Are you enjoying the work?” Darla asked coolly.

“It’s interesting.”

Darla’s expression opened up a bit, surprised. “You mean, he’s letting you do something other than answer phones?”

Not that he knows, Caitlin thought. “Well…let’s just say we’re working on it.”

“Ah.” Darla’s mouth curved. “Well, at least you made it past the two-day mark. No one else has.”

“What a surprise that is.”

Darla did smile then, a genuine one. “I see you’re not enamored. That’s good. Maybe you have a shot at making it in that office before he eats you alive.”

“Enamored?” Because the thought was so ridiculous, Caitlin laughed.

“He’s not an easy man,” Darla agreed. “As you’ve obviously noticed.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“But he’s a good one.”

Yes. And also hard, tough, unforgiving and sexy as hell. “He’s a good man,” she agreed quietly, because it was the truth.

“You know…” Darla tipped her head to study Caitlin carefully. “You’re much more than Barbie meets Baywatch. I’ll have to tell Joe I was wrong about you.”

“Barbie meets-” Caitlin sputtered, whipped her head to glare at Vince when he burst out laughing at her expression.

The elevator stopped. Darla smiled, and this time it was warm and genuine. “Bye, Caitlin. Good luck today. Or maybe I should wish Joe good luck. I have a feeling he’s going to need it.”

Caitlin wished she’d left her tennis shoes on, because for the first time in her life she felt like running. She wanted to race directly to Joe and tell him what she thought of him and his accountant.

“Caitlin, wait,” Vince called out, trying to keep up with her as she made her way down the hallway.

“I don’t think so.” She kept going, driven by a need to give Joseph Brownley a piece of her mind. A big piece. A great big huge piece that would knock him flat on his far too gorgeous butt.

Unfortunately for Tim and Andy, they happened to be lurking around her desk when Caitlin stormed in. Twin smiles greeted her, only to die at the murderous expression on her face.

“What’s wrong?” Andy asked quickly.

Vince grimaced. “She just met Darla…”

“Tell me,” she said evenly, tossing her purse to the floor by her desk and placing her hands on her hips. She blew a strand of hair away from her face. “What did the other secretaries look like?”

In unison, the twins turned to Vince, confused. Vince sighed and shook his head.

“Oh, come on, guys,” she encouraged. “Think. You remember, the ones who quit?” Her voice held a poisonous mixture of sweet smile and deadly tone. “Were they…pretty?”

“Not like you,” Andy said loyally, and Tim shook his head vigorously.

“Darla didn’t mean it,” Vince said quietly to her, touching her arm, his eyes deep with concern and regret.

“No? But I’ll bet Joe did.” She dragged in a deep breath, stunned to find herself so upset.

“Caitlin, what’s the matter?” Andy asked. “What didn’t Darla mean?”

All three of them were looking at her in concern. Not one of them was on the verge of laughter. They really cared, Caitlin realized with a burst of surprise and warmth. They cared that she was upset, and they didn’t find it funny. It went a long way toward soothing her. “Nothing,” she said, forcing a smile. “It wasn’t important.”

“It was if it hurt you.” Tim came closer, peering into her face. “Darla’s really pretty great, but she does like a good joke. What did she say?”

Caitlin dropped her gaze from his, feeling a little silly. “Something about Barbie meets Baywatch,” she muttered.

His eyes widened. He bit his lip, which Caitlin would have sworn was so he couldn’t laugh. Next to her, Andy made a suspicious noise, something like a strangled hyena. In a Joe-like move, Vince closed his eyes.

“Oh, stop it,” she said, biting back her own smile. “It really wasn’t so funny a minute ago.”

“You know it’s not exactly a put-down,” Vince offered in his boss’s defense. “Most women would kill to be described that way.” His eyes stayed on hers. “And no offense, but you really do look every bit as good as Barbie, or any one of those women on Baywatch for that matter.”

“Really?” She let her gaze run over his own well-proportioned body. “How would you feel to be known as…oh, I don’t know. How about Fabio meets G.I. Joe?”

Vince grinned. “Fabio?” He flexed his muscles. “Cool.”

Caitlin rolled her eyes and gave up. “Oh, never mind.” She shooed them all back to their offices and went to the small kitchen. Quietly, efficiently, she started the new coffeemaker, because of course it was empty. She waited impatiently until the coffee began to drip into the pot.

Filling a mug to the top with the steaming brew, she went back into the hall and contemplated the closed door to Mr. Gorgeous Butt’s office.

She knocked.

“Go away.”

She smiled and walked in.

Joe didn’t even waste a scowl on her, but sat hunched over his computer, his fingers whirling away on the keyboard. “Back off or die,” he muttered without much heat. “And you’re late. Again.”

Suddenly he froze. Then he lifted his head and sniffed. “Coffee? Real coffee?”

“As opposed to fake?” she asked sweetly, holding the mug just out of his reach. He stood so he could outreach her.

He’d gone all out today, wearing a light blue shirt instead of his usual black. His jeans, faded from wear, fit his long, lean limbs like a glove. When his fingers brushed hers, shocking her with that ever present electricity that ran between them, she gave over the mug.

Clearly unaffected, he sipped gratefully, then let out a huge sigh. “Thanks.”

She lifted a brow. “Thanks? Thanks? Did you actually thank me? That can’t be-you’re never polite.”

He looked insulted. “I’m plenty polite.”

“Really?”

“Of course I am. I’m diplomatic, too.”

Caitlin pretended to contemplate this while she walked the length of his office. Turning back to him, she asked, “Is it polite to discuss your employees with friends? Is it diplomatic to laugh at them, about them, behind their back?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Is it considered politically correct to resort to name-calling, especially before you even really know that employee?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Does ‘Barbie meets Baywatch’ mean anything to you?”

His mouth opened a bit “Oh,” he said, his face unreadable. “You’ve…met Darla.”

She waited for more, but he said nothing else. “That’s all you have to say?”

He shrugged. “If it matters, you don’t look like a model in the least to me.”

“Gee, thanks,” she said, feeling inexplicably flattened. The first man in the universe who didn’t think she was pretty, and this depressed her?

She was an idiot.

“You have too much…” He waved his hand wildly, gesturing to her body, under the mistaken impression she wanted a detailed analysis of her body type. “Everything. Yeah, that’s it. You have far too much everything.”

“Hmm.” The warning in her voice might have deterred another man, a normal man, but then again, Joe was anything but normal.

“And your hair isn’t like Barbie’s at all,” he offered. “It’s short, for one thing.”

“I see.”

“As for Baywatch…” He shrugged. “I’ve never seen the show, but it’s supposedly got those tight red bathing suits, and I can’t see you in one of those, either.”

“You can’t? Too much ‘everything’ to fit into one of them, huh?”

“Come on, princess, I can’t be telling you anything you don’t already know.”

“I’m not a princess.” Each word was enunciated, and spoken very quietly. “If I were, do you think I’d be working for pennies for you?”

Suddenly wary, he looked at her, as if just realizing she wasn’t taking this in quite the same lighthearted tone he’d meant it. “Caitlin-”

“Set down your coffee, Joe,” she said evenly.

He did. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to act like a princess and have a temper tantrum. I don’t want you to burn yourself.” She swiped at the neat stack of papers on his desk, knocking them to the floor. She reached for another stack, getting into the spirit.

Laughing, he grabbed her hand and held it tight in a fist that might as well have been steel. “What was that for? Wait!”

But she simply switched tactics and tried to evade him. “Don’t…patronize me,” she demanded. “Don’t talk about me behind my back, and don’t…” She let out a huff of steam when he grabbed her, roaring with laughter.

Seeing red, she fought him. “Let me go!” she demanded, puffing and gasping for air as she fought.

With surprising speed and agile strength, he managed to wrap both arms around her and haul her close, pressing her now useless limbs against his own.

At the contact, she went utterly still.

So did Joe.

In the silence, their rough breathing sounded abnormally loud.

And arousing.

“Are we fighting,” he wondered in a suddenly low, husky voice, all traces of humor gone as he stared down into her uplifted face, “or are we playing?”

“I…I don’t know.”