Who's Your Boss? (Original Version) Revised version available in eBook/paperback

Chapter 1

Thirty minutes later, I unlocked the door and let myself into the house. Dropping my keys and wallet on the small table near the door, I made my way along the short hallway to the living room. What I found upon entering the room had me groaning inwardly.

Sitting in the recliner was my boss. Over six feet tall with broad shoulders, Reed had short dark brown hair and eyes that reminded me of melted chocolate. Said eyes were currently looking through one of my magazines.

"Like what you see?" he asked, sounding amused.

I averted my eyes, resisting the urge to roll them.

He tossed the magazine on the coffee table. "How was your ride, Winnie?"

"It was fine." I moved farther into the room. "It's my day off, Mr. Drummond."

Reed sighed heavily. "Winnie, how many times do I have to tell you? It's Reed, not Mr. Drummond. I feel old when you call me Mr. Drummond."

"How many times do I have to tell you?" I smirked at him. "It's Winifred, not Winnie."

"So it's going to be like that." He grinned, revealing a set of perfect teeth. His smile made most women swoon. I was determined not to be one of those women. "Sit down, Winifred."

I knew him calling me by my proper name wouldn't last long. From day one, I had been 'Winnie' to him and something told me it would always be that way. I stared at the beige carpet, wanting to kick him out and knowing that I couldn't. I was living in his guest house. I couldn't very well throw him out of the house he bought. Whether I liked it or not I was stuck with him. In other words, I was screwed.

"Please, sit down," Reed said politely.

Reluctantly, I moved to the couch and took a seat. "What do you want me to do?"

He arched an eyebrow. "What makes you think I want you to do anything? Can't I have a friendly chat with my favorite assistant?"

This time I did roll my eyes. "I'm your only assistant."

"Yes, but if I had more you would definitely be my favorite." Reed leaned forward and braced his forearms on his thighs. "I know it's your day off. I feel bad for asking you to do this, but I need you to fly to Baton Rouge tonight."

"Alright." I didn't ask why for the simple reason that he didn't pay me to ask questions.

"You're meeting with a Bill Clarkson at nine o'clock in the morning," he informed me. "He's the curator at the Baton Rouge Museum of Art. You will be picking up a painting. I would have it shipped here, but-"

"But the last time someone shipped you a painting it got damaged in transit," I finished for him. "I remember that."

"I don't ever want to go through that again. " Reed looked into my eyes. "I'm counting on you, Winnie. This painting has to arrive in my hands in perfect condition."

"I won't let you down," I promised.

He smiled at me. "I know you won't. I'll drive you to the airport. Takeoff is at eight o'clock. I'd like to leave here by seven-forty-five. Before I forget, I booked you a room for the night at the Wiltshire Inn. A car will be waiting for you at the airport to take you to the hotel. Everything has been taken care of. All you have to do is pick up the painting."

That was generous of him. Usually he left all the travel arraignments to me. "Thank you." I checked my watch. "I guess I should go pack a bag."

"I'll leave you to it then." Reed got to his feet. "I'll see you later."

"Before you go would you get my bag out of the hall closet?" I asked, rising from the couch. "It's on the top shelf. I would have to drag out the step ladder to take it down and that's a big hassle." I sighed. "God had to make me short."

He snickered. "You're more than a bit on the short side, Ms. Monroe. You're pint-size."

"Well, excuse me." I leaned my head back and glared up at him, my hands on my hips. "We can't all be giants, Mr. Drummond."

Reed chuckled softly and moved aside. "Lead the way to the closet."

I brushed past him and led the way through the living room and down the hallway. Across from my bedroom I stopped, opened the closet door, and turned on the light. On the top shelf was a black overnight bag. I pointed it out to Reed and then moved out of his way. He grabbed the bag and held it out to me. With a muttered thank you I took it from him.

"Anything else, Ms. Monroe?" Reed asked as he turned out the light and shut the door.

"No, that's it."

"While I'm here do you need any light bulbs changed or the ceiling fans dusted?" he inquired, his eyes sparkling with laughter.

He was teasing me about my height again. I might be small, but I was stronger than he knew. A part of me wanted to kick him where it hurt, bring him down to my level. Instead, I gritted my teeth and replied, "No, thank you."

"Then I'll show myself out." He winked at me. "Until later, Winifred."

I stood there and watched him walk away, wanting desperately to throw my overnight bag at him.