Trading Places with the Boss

“I’m the boss. I can’t take advantage of you.”

Rafe threw back his head and laughed. “So what does that mean?” he asked as they got into the elevator car. “I have to wait until Monday before I can attempt any sort of intimacy with you, no matter how innocent?”

“Hmm.” Shelley pretended to think about it. They reached their floor and got off, and she started toward her hotel room. “No. Sorry. That won’t work, either.”

Reaching into her pocket, she produced her plastic room card and pushed it into the slot. “On Monday, the inappropriateness turns in the other direction, and it would be you taking advantage of me.”

Her door opened and she turned to smile impishly at him.

His answering grin was endearingly lopsided as he leaned with one arm against her doorway….

Trading Places with the Boss
Raye Morgan

MILLS & BOON

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RAYE MORGAN

has spent almost two decades, while writing over fifty novels, searching for the answer to that elusive question: Just what is that special magic that happens when a man and a woman fall in love? Every time she thinks she has the answer, a new wrinkle pops up, necessitating another book! Meanwhile, after living in Holland, Guam, Japan and Washington, D.C., she currently makes her home in Southern California with her husband and two of her four boys.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter One

“Here we go,” Shelley Sinclair whispered to the coworker sitting next to her in the plush seats of the auditorium.

Jaye Martinez nodded and gave her a quick grin.

Shelley took a deep breath, closed her eyes for luck, and opened the folded paper she’d been handed.

Allman Industries, Team A Role exchangers: Rafe Allman and Shelley Sinclair

She stared at the notation in dismay. No! Not Rafe Allman!

Jaye glanced at her own paper, then leaned close to see Shelley’s. Her eyes widened and she whispered teasingly, “Whatever you do, don’t show fear. Men like that can sense it, like dogs, and they’ll rip you apart.”

Still reeling from the horrifying partner she’d been given in the conference competition, Shelley didn’t get it right away.

“What?” she said.

Laughing, Jaye patted her arm. “I’m only kidding. Rafe Allman isn’t really that bad. In fact, he’s about the hunkiest boss in this part of Texas, so you ought to be able to put up with a little arrogance if that comes with the deal.”

“Speak for yourself,” Shelley muttered, looking over to see who Jaye had drawn. Then she sighed, completely jealous and careless about showing it. “You got Mr. Tanner. He’s such a sweetie—you’ll have a great time with him.”

Jaye nodded happily. “I’m already planning ways to wrap him around my little finger. I’ve got four whole days to convince him I’m the only woman in the world made just for him. What kind of odds will you give me?”

Shelley managed a wistful smile, looking at her beautiful friend whose raven tresses were a direct contrast to her own long blond hair.

“He’s a goner. No doubt about it.”

Jaye put on an innocent look, making Shelley grin. Then she rose, joining the throngs of others leaving the auditorium. Shelley gathered her conference bag and the stack of handouts and followed her. As their crowd emptied into the foyer of the luxury hotel where the conference was being held, she caught sight of Rafe Allman and Jim Tanner waiting for them at the bottom of the ramp.

She groaned—partly because she dreaded meeting up with her assigned partner, and partly because she hated the way her heart began to pound out a nervous rhythm at the prospect. Even so, the crush of people was slowing progress long enough for her to make a studied comparison of the two men.

Jim Tanner was tall and blond with a twinkle in his eye and a face that looked ready to smile. Rafe Allman was a different sort entirely. Just as tall, his shoulders were square and broad giving him a look of strength Jim Tanner just didn’t have. His dark eyes had a searching look and his face seemed more ready to twist with cynicism than to smile.

And still, he was devastatingly, head-turningly handsome. Countless women would have jumped at the chance to spend four days in close contact with the man.

Unfortunately she wasn’t one of them. Maybe she’d known him too long—and knew enough to stay away. She’d always thought there was something wild in Rafe, like an animal that had been gentled, but never tamed.

His head went back as he spotted the two women. He gave Jaye a welcoming smile, but that smile dimmed a bit as he made eye contact with Shelley. She lifted her chin. That was fine with her. They were going to have to work together, but that didn’t mean she was ready to let down any safeguards.

Rafe was the de facto head of Allman Industries, a distribution center for local Texas wineries, even though his father was still the actual president of the company. And Rafe fulfilled the role of the man in charge with cool assurance.

“Like lambs to the slaughter,” Jaye said under her breath just before they met the men.

“Who? Us or them?” Shelley was afraid that she and Jaye had a slightly different perspective on the matter.

“You missed the introductory address,” Jaye told the men as they met them, her tone accusing but also just this side of flirtatious. “You missed all the information about what we’re supposed to do.”

“That’s what we have you lovely ladies here for,” Rafe said with a humorous gleam in his eye. “We’re counting on your legendary attention to detail.”

“We’ll share the burden,” Shelley said lightly. “Next meeting, you two can attend, and Jaye and I will play hooky.”

Rafe raised one silky dark eyebrow, looking surprised. Did he think she was being a bit presumptuous, considering he was the highest-ranking Allman Industries executive here and she was a lowly administrative assistant? Little did he know that situation was about to make a radical change. Her pulse was racing at the thought.

Her gaze met his and caught for just a beat or two, and suddenly she knew it was more than her attitude he was aware of. He was thinking back to last New Year’s Eve when, for just a moment, the possibility of something romantic had sparked between them. It hadn’t lasted long, and they had both spent the rest of the year avoiding each other like the plague, despite the fact that they worked for the same company. But it was always there between them, every time they met.

“We’ve got a table in the bar,” Jim Tanner was saying. “Come on and fill us in over drinks.”

Jaye very happily took his arm and began teasing him about how surprised he was going to be when he found out what the theme of the contest was this year. That left Shelley and Rafe to walk stiffly side by side, each trying to ignore the other.

The bar was noisy and crowded but the table was being saved by a couple of other employees from Allman Industries and soon they were all six jammed around it. Shelley talked and laughed with the others as they ordered drinks, but she noted that Rafe had very carefully taken a seat as far away from her as he could get.

“Well, I really wish someone would explain to me exactly what we’re doing here,” Dorie Berger, a pert young office worker, said plaintively. “Everyone keeps telling me this is such a privilege to get to attend, but no one ever bothered to fill me in on what goes on at these things.”

“This is the way it works,” Rafe said, giving her a smile that seemed to Shelley to be mostly about showing his admiration for Dorie’s tight-fitting sweater. “The competition is in a different city each year. Each company is allowed to submit up to three teams made up of seven of their employees each. They all spend the four days of the conference getting their presentation honed and ready. On the last day, each team does its thing in front of the judges and the winner gets a nice big trophy for the trophy case at work—and the prestige that goes with it in the industry.”

“But what’s the point?” Dorie asked, still looking bewildered.

“It’s supposed to make us think outside of the box and come up with new ideas,” Jim Tanner offered. “The point is to encourage us all to strive for excellence in our business dealings.”

“Not quite,” Rafe said deliberately, and suddenly everyone was quiet, listening to him.

That very fact alone drove Shelley wild. Why did they all act like he was the most marvelous thing since the invention of the wheel? He was just a very handsome, very dynamic, very charismatic—regular guy. That was all.

“The point,” he was saying dramatically, “is to give the best damn presentation in the competition. The point is to grind your competitors in the dust. The point…” He raised his glass and looked around the table, his own dark eyes hinting at a steely determination. “The point is to win.”

“Hear, hear,” said Jaye, and they clinked glasses all around.

Shelley joined them, but her heart wasn’t in it. Taking on the leadership role here was going to thrust her into a position she might not like very much. She was going to have to fight Rafe all the way. Was she really ready for this?

Quickly she shoved that thought aside. She would have to think about that later, when she was alone. Right now dealing with being at a table under the direct observation of Rafe’s too-knowing gaze was about as much as she could handle.

“Well, what are the competitions like?” Dorie was asking.

“It’s different every year,” Jim said. “One year you had to pretend your product was a politician and develop an election campaign around it. Campaign signs and speeches.”

Shelley smiled, then offered up, “Last year we had to develop a ten-minute musical for our product, with each person on the team singing something for at least one minute.”

“Oh, no!”

“Did we win?” Rafe asked, gazing at her levelly.

Shelley hesitated. “I think the A team came in fifth.” She saw his look of disapproval and she bristled. “That’s not so bad. There were ninety-two teams competing.”

His gaze sharpened. “So you came last year? I thought this gig was on a three-year rotation.”

Attendance was considered a perk and company policy was that each employee could only do it once every three years so that the spots were shared more equally around the workforce.

“Yes, I came last year,” she admitted. “Actually, Harvey Yorgan was supposed to come with you all today, but his wife went into premature labor, so I got volunteered at the last minute.”

Actually, she’d volunteered herself, and with an ulterior motive that she couldn’t reveal to anyone. But that was something she hoped no one would figure out, most of all, Rafe Allman.

“Well, we’re down to the wire,” he said, looking at her expectantly. “Let’s have it. What is it this year?”

She licked her dry lips. “This year one member of the squad has to change places with the boss.”

He stared at her as though he didn’t understand what she was saying, so she amplified.

“The highest ranking person on each team has to become just one of the employees,” she explained. “And one of the employees becomes the new boss.”

The air seemed still between them as he digested this setup. Then he shrugged.

“Great.” Rafe gave her a comical grin. “So I don’t have to do any work.”

Everybody laughed. Everybody but Shelley. He was still staring into her eyes, and she was staring right back. She was not going to let him intimidate her. But her heart was still pounding.

“So who is it?” he asked at last, but surely he already guessed.

“Jaye will be trading with Jim.” She smiled at her friend, then glanced at Rafe. “And you and I will be switching,” she added, trying not to sound as breathless as she felt.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Interesting.”

Something in his voice—and his eyes—sent a shiver slithering down her spine.

“Don’t show fear,” Jaye had said. She’d been joking, but she’d been closer to the mark than she knew. Shelley had to admit it, if only to herself. The man scared her.

Not in a physical way. She didn’t suspect he had an abusive side. But there was a streak of animal magnetism to him that sent her over the moon. Maybe it was just a quirk in her own character. Maybe she had a natural weakness for men with midnight eyes and chiseled chins, like some women had a weakness for wine or chocolate. Whatever—she knew she was drawn to him, and she also knew giving in to that pull would be very bad for her.

“Then what do we do?” he asked at last. “Learn to tap dance to our company theme song?”

Her smile was tight. “We develop a business plan that will enhance the operations of our company in some way.”

His gaze became speculative. “You mean besides providing a product along with jobs and benefits for our employees and making a little profit off the top.”

“Yes.”

“Right.” He grinned and leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his drink. Then he looked at them all with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle this.”

That did it! How could she be so attracted to a man who made her so angry at the same time? The condescending tone did it for her. It conjured up too many memories of times in the past when he’d tormented her in one way or another. Reaching into one of her Quality in Performance and Leadership Conference folders, she pulled out the information sheet and put it in front of him so that he could see the setup for himself.

“Actually, I’ll be handling it,” she told him as calmly as she could manage. “And the first decision I’m making is to have a strategy meeting.”

He looked surprised. “What for?”

Oh, he was going to be tough. She could see it right now. He wasn’t going to give up the reins of power without a fight. There was no way he was going to submit peacefully. But he was going to have to.

“We need to get going on a project right away,” she said quickly. “Five o’clock. My room. Please let the others know, Rafe. The list of our group members is attached.” She smiled at him, trying to maintain a professional air despite the fact that she was furious with him. “Your first assignment.”

His eyes narrowed. Shelley had a sense of everyone else at the table holding their breath, waiting to see what was going to happen next. She had to make a move before he did.

Grabbing her purse, conference bag and papers, she rose from her chair.

“Oh, and Rafe?” she said, turning back, her heart beating hard in her chest. “For the next four days, why don’t you call me Miss Sinclair? That might help you keep our new positions straight.”

She smiled sweetly at everyone, noting the stunned faces all around, and then her gaze came back to meet Rafe’s. Was that anger she saw? Laughter? Mockery?

She couldn’t tell. But there was no time for analysis. If she delayed this dramatic leave-taking any longer, she would spoil the whole thing.

“See you at five,” she said, turning to go.

She didn’t hear what he said, but she recognized his low voice saying something, and the table erupted with laughter just as she reached the doorway. Had he been making fun of her? No doubt. Her face was suddenly very hot and she knew she must be glowing like a neon sign.

“Darn you, Rafe Allman,” she muttered to herself as she went quickly toward the elevator. “Darn you and the horse you rode in on!”

Five o’clock came and Shelley waited nervously, adjusting chairs, turning down the music. What if Rafe defied her and didn’t show up? What if he didn’t tell the others? What if he did show up and made fun of her all through the meeting?

Think it couldn’t happen? Hah!

The thing was, she and Rafe had a track record that went back over twenty years. There were times when her close friendship with his sister Jodie meant that she had practically lived at the Allman house. Growing up, her mother had been busy all the time with the coffee shop she ran, Millie’s Café. On hot summer days, Shelley usually found her way to Jodie’s and the two of them did all the things young girls frolicked in together.

Even back then she and Rafe had been adversaries. He was always finding some way to embarrass her or make her feel inadequate. He was, after all, the one who pointed out to everyone at the Allman dinner table when she was eleven and wore her first training bra to dinner at their house. Her face still burned when she thought of the looks on all their faces as they stared in surprise and amusement at her youthfully modest chest.

Too bad she didn’t find a way to murder him then.

Never mind. She was stuck with him for the weekend so she would just have to make the best of it. She knew he must hate her in the position of being his boss, even if temporarily. And she knew she was going to have to fight him all the way just to keep him from taking over.

If only Rafe’s older brother Matt had come instead of Rafe. Matt was older, wiser…nicer. She considered him the ideal big brother she never really had. She would do just about anything for him.

A knock sounded and she jumped. Taking a deep breath, she walked quickly to the door and opened it.

“Good evening, Miss Sinclair.” Rafe stood looking down at her, the mockery in his eyes echoing the mockery in his voice.

Behind him was the rest of the group. She did a quick inventory. Candy Yang, a paralegal, would make a great assistant. She’d dealt with her before. Jerry was head of finance, but she also knew he was a home carpenter who loved woodworking and could easily supervise building sets. Pretty little Dorie Berger was an entry-level office worker, a sweet young thing who would do pretty much as she was told. And the two others were people she didn’t really know very well, but they seemed agreeable.

“Here we are,” Rafe was saying, draping himself across her doorway. “Your loyal minions, awaiting your command.”

“Good,” she said, standing back. “Come on in. We need to get started right away.”

Her gaze met his as he sauntered into the room. Something hard and challenging lurked deep in his eyes, and her mouth went dry as she noted it. The weekend was going to be a rough one. Her challenge had only begun.

Chapter Two

Sometimes that whole damn sex thing just got in the way.

Rafe sat toying with the remains of a sumptuous dessert, moving curled pieces of bitter chocolate from one side of the plate to the other with his silver fork. But his mind was on the woman at the other end of the long table.

Shelley Sinclair. He’d known her just about all his life. And here she was, complicating things for him once again. It would certainly be easier if she didn’t have that long, silky hair that fell down into a sensual curl just over the swell of her left breast. If she didn’t have those doe-shaped eyes that seemed to hide a secret sorrow. If she didn’t have that soft, lush mouth that always made him think of long, hot kisses and the scent of gardenias.

Why gardenias? He had no idea.

And the entire thing disgusted him anyway. Just looking at her now, as she slowly put another forkful of whipped cream in that beautiful mouth, he felt a surge of desire that almost made him groan aloud. He was too old for this sort of thing, dammit! Lusting after anyone would have been a problem, but lusting after Shelley Sinclair was nuts.

It hadn’t always been like this. Years ago, when Shelley had hung around the Allman house with his little sister Jodie, and the two of them had spied on him and teased him and made his life miserable, he certainly hadn’t thought of her as sexy. In fact, if he thought of her at all, it had been with extreme annoyance—as in, “What a brat!”

But that was then.

Now she was another sort of irritant. And he couldn’t let that get in the way of what had to be accomplished here. He hadn’t asked for this assignment, but now that it had been thrust on him, he was damn well going to come out of it with a trophy in his hand. Allman Industries had to win this competition and it was up to him to make sure that happened. This whole setup, where he was supposed to switch places with Shelley, was going to work against him having the control he needed. And he was going to have to do something about that.

The strategy meeting had been frustrating. He’d assumed that after a little bit of moderating for window-dressing, she would gracefully sit back and let him take over. After all, that was where he belonged, where he usually was—in charge. It was the natural order of things and everyone knew it.

Everyone but Shelley, who seemed to be on another trajectory entirely. She’d held onto the floor, stubborn as a squirrel with the last fall acorn. She had plans and she laid them out, talking fast, assigning workshops for the next morning, giving out instruction sheets. He’d hardly gotten a word in edgewise.

And just when he’d had enough and he’d stood up to take over the reins by force if he had to, she’d given him a triumphant look and adjourned for dinner. Then they had all trooped down to the restaurant to meet the other Allman Industries employees for a totally choice meal. All twenty-one of them. Made you wonder who was home minding the store.

But that was okay. This competition was important, more important than the others here knew. It wasn’t just his competitive nature that was at stake here. A major supply contract hinged on the outcome. That was the way they had built the business, scraping and fighting for every advantage. He’d promised his father he would deliver a win and that was what he was going to do. After all, if he was going to prove to them all that he was the natural pick to take over the company, he had to show that he could be just as ruthless as his father ever was.

The others were rising from the table, preparing to go back to their rooms and get some sleep before attending the workshops in the morning. Rafe rose, too, nodding to Jim but brushing aside a melting look from Tina, the raven-haired, statuesque director of personnel who had been giving him the come-on for weeks now, and he headed straight for Shelley.

She looked up, surprised, when he took her arm and leaned close.

“We need to talk,” he said softly near her ear.

Her lovely mouth tilted at the corners. “Talk is cheap,” she quipped, gathering her things and looking toward the exit. “Send me an e-mail.”

His fingers ringed her upper arm. He wasn’t about to let her bolt, despite the way her flesh felt under his hand.

“You want all communications in writing, so you can hold my words as evidence against me?” he responded in kind. “Just a bit too transparent, Shelley. I’m not going to fall for that one.”

“Too smart for me, huh?” She gave a significant glance at his hand on her arm. “Or, if brains don’t work for you, you’re ready to move on to manhandling. Is that it?”

He didn’t let go. “Intimidation can come in many forms,” he noted dryly. “Some of them just your size.”

“Are you accusing me of using my feminine wiles to intimidate you?” she said, looking more amused than anything else.

He opened his mouth to say something that would get him into a lot of trouble, but luckily, he thought better of it in time.

“Shelley, I just want to talk to you. Don’t make a federal case out of it.”

“Okay.” She made a face that made it obvious she was surrendering to the inevitable. “Come on up to my room. I’ll give you fifteen minutes.”

Rafe drew in a deep breath, looking down at her. Okay, here was the crux of his dilemma. Every part of him yearned toward an evening alone in her room. He could already see the soft light, feel the romantic music coming in over the sound system, taste the way her mouth would yield under his….

No way. Couldn’t be done. How about the bar?

The music there would be throbbing with sensual urgency, the atmosphere provocative, the sense of impending possibilities tantalizing, her mouth would be just as tempting—and alcohol would be involved.

No. Too dangerous.

“Let’s walk down to the canal,” he said quickly, deciding a public walkway filled with tourists would pose the least risk. “Soak up some of the ambience.”

A slight frown appeared, but she nodded. “Fine. Let’s go.”

The evening air was unusually warm. The crowd was thick and in a rollicking mood. Lights from the boutiques and clubs bounced off the water and laughter formed a foundation for the music that filled the night. The scene was celebration.

But Rafe felt edgy. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket to keep from reaching out to help guide Shelley as she walked along beside him. Glancing sideways he saw that she came up above his shoulder. The perfect fit for him. He could already feel how it would be to put an arm around her slender form and curl her up against him.

He swore softly, fed up with the way his mind kept trending.

“You rang?” she said quizzically, glancing upwards in a way that emphasized the almond shape of her big brown eyes, her dark lashes leaving long shadows on her cheeks.

He swallowed hard and looked to the heavens for help. “Sorry,” he said shortly. “I just had a thought.”

“Quite an unusual experience for you I guess,” she said archly. “Do you swear every time you get one of those?”

He stared at her, fighting off the impulse to grab her and either shake her or kiss her. “You know what?” he said instead. “You’re as big a brat now as you were when we were kids.”

She glared at him. “Why not? You’re as big a bully.”

The crowd surged around them and someone bumped against Shelley, sending her reeling into his arms.

“Sorry,” said a disembodied voice but Rafe’s first instinct to go after the perpetrator evaporated as he looked down into her face and felt the fragility of her body against the strength of his.

Time stood still. He couldn’t breathe. The background faded into a swirling mist and all he could see were her huge eyes.

Then things went back to normal and they pulled apart, avoiding each other sternly, walking quickly toward the river. Rafe turned into a viewing bump-out and she settled alongside him as he leaned his elbows on the railing and stared into the inky waters below.

It was too late to pretend he didn’t react to her like a bug on a hot skillet. Everything she did, every time she moved, everything she said, triggered a response in him of one kind or another. If he couldn’t conquer it, at least he had to learn to hide it. He stood very still, steeling himself. Time to take back the controls, all the way around. Otherwise he was going to turn into a mushy mess. And that couldn’t happen.

Shelley was floundering. She had no idea what was going on with Rafe. He was acting so weird. He probably hated her.

And why not? She’d never liked him much.

Of course, there had been that New Year’s Eve party when they had both had a little too much to drink. He’d hung around making caustic comments and she’d given as good as she got—but when midnight came, he’d kissed her. The surprise of that kiss had shocked them both and they’d drawn apart unable to look each other in the eye. If it had been anyone else, that kiss might have launched a torrid affair. But since it was the two of them, they hadn’t spoken to each other since—until this weekend. The fact was, any sort of civil relationship between them just wasn’t meant to be.

Sighing, she looked out at the water, enjoying the bobbing lights reflected there. A slight breeze pressed the lacy fabric of her skirt against her legs.

“I love San Antonio,” she murmured, mostly to herself as she drew her shawl closer around her shoulders.

He turned to look at her, then looked away again.

“Funny how it used to seem like this huge city when I was young,” he said. “Now it seems more like an overgrown small town.”

“That’s what I like about it. You can wrap your arms around it and become a part of it so easily.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it. I like small towns. In fact, it’s cities I hate.”

She bit her tongue. If he was going to make everything into an argument, she just wouldn’t talk anymore.

The silence stretched between them. She risked a quick look his way. His attention was on the other side of the river, giving her an opportunity to study him for a moment. He had a rugged, masculine appeal, untamed and proud of it. Pure Texas. She remembered he’d always looked so very good riding a horse.

But that was then. And remember, she’d never liked him much. She had to keep that in mind at all times.

Suddenly, as though there had been no pause in their conversation, he spoke softly.

“My mom brought me to San Antonio for a weekend one November when I was a kid, to see the Christmas lights on the river.”

That surprised her, and not only because he was talking like a normal person for a change. “Just you? Not any of the others?” There were plenty of Allmans.

He shook his head. “Just me. I was about thirteen and she thought I needed something special. I think she was trying to make up for the fact that Pop was making it pretty plain that he considered Matt his fair-haired child and thought of me as good for nothing much.”