Page 23 of Boss Me

“He’s a good guy! And my eyes do not go soft.”

“They’re soft right now. Squishy, like caramel.”

“Are not!”

“Okay, fine. You don’t have a crush on your boss. You just like him. A lot. Professionally. So did you like David?”

“No! Of course not! I mean, he was fine. Just not for me.”

“Why of course not? You are the champion of meeting someone and instantly falling in love. You can’t go to the grocery store without coming home practically engaged.”

She was exaggerating. Mostly. So what if I’d slept with Trey the day I’d met him, and we’d been inseparable for the next month?

I tossed a pair of swim trunks into the duffel. “This is work-related. I—I—” I hadn’t shared anything with her. I didn’t want her to worry about her job. But now, considering I was about to get on an airplane and fly to another country to find our COO, I figured it was time to tell her. In case I died, you know.

The whole story of Cooper’s disappearance and Weston’s mysterious conversation with the Chairman poured out of me.

By the time I was done, Mimi leaned forward in the armchair, her elbows resting on her knees. “What are you going to do about school?”

“It’ll be fine. I’m leaving early tomorrow, and I can probably get back in time for class on Tuesday. But just in case, I told my prof I had to travel for work, and he said I can keep up with the assignments remotely if I need to. But I won’t need to. I’ll find Cooper, tell him about Weston’s evil plot, and come back. Maybe I’ll have one umbrella drink while I’m there.” I tried to reassure her with a smile, but my cheeks refused to cooperate.

“Benjamin.” Mimi’s tone was full of big-sister warning. “Look at me.”

I met her gaze. Her eyes were darker than mine, the color of a porter instead of an amber ale.

“You go there. You convince him to come back and take care of his company. And then you come back. No falling in love with your boss. You are not Pepper Potts. Understand?”

I nodded. Cooper Fallon was exactly the opposite of Tony Stark. He made the rules and never broke them. He was Captain America, standing up for what was right and good. And falling for his assistant was against the rules, no matter how much I yearned for it.

Though it had been a total Tony Stark move to run off to a fucking island vacation without telling anyone, leaving me—all of us—to worry about him.

“Still,” Mimi said, reaching into the bowl under the coffee table and pulling out a strip of condoms, which she tossed into my duffel, “you never know what might happen with the pool boy.”

I snorted. If I followed her plan—go in, convince Cooper, get out—there’d be no time for island flings.

Her dark eyebrows winged up. “Keep a lock on that fragile heart of yours, Ben. And come back soon, okay?”

I lunged across the space between us and hugged her. “I promise, I will.”

9

BEN

I thought for a second, as the ancient Ford Escort wheezed up the side of a small mountain in the center of the island on the way from the airport to the resort, that we might not make it over. But I didn’t care. At least we were on land. After the turbulent propeller-plane flight from Charlotte Amalie, my stomach heaving and my fingers trembling on the barf bag, nothing on land would ever scare me again.

The ocean-scented island breeze warmed my cheeks as the taxi puttered slowly up the circle drive, past palm trees and masses of big, red tropical flowers.

The driver stopped the car in front of a pair of wide-open, carved wooden doors. A man in a poppy-pink guayabera and a pair of khaki Bermuda shorts opened my door.

“Welcome to paradise, señor.” His tanned face creased in a smile, showing straight, white teeth. His nametag read Ramón.

I ducked out of the car and stood, stretching. Ramón grabbed my duffel from the driver and flourished his hand toward the doors of the resort.

I shuffled in the direction he’d pointed. “Thank you. I mean, gracias.”

The humid air stuck to my skin and softened the creases in my golf shirt. I shouldn’t have bothered ironing it that morning back at home. One of my dark curls caught my peripheral vision, and I smoothed it back onto the top of my head. It sprang back instantly and stuck to my forehead. My hair product was not designed for this climate.

Ramón followed me to the front desk, where he stood a discreet distance away, my bag between his feet, while I checked in.

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