How To Sleep With The Boss

He came to a dead stop and swallowed hard.

Every bit of what she was wearing was borrowed. Yet somehow his new assistant managed to look like a fashion model for an outdoor company. Suddenly, he realized that Dylan was correct. Libby Parkhurst had a kick-ass body.

Libby’s eyes snapped open, her expression guarded. “Good morning,” she said.

He hated the guilt that choked him. “Libby, I—”

She held up a hand, stopping his instinctive words. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

They stared at each other for several long seconds. He forced himself to zero in on basics.

He slid one backpack off his shoulder. “I need to make sure the straps are adjusted correctly for you.” Without asking, he stepped behind her and helped settle the pack into position. With a few quick tugs, he was satisfied. Finally, he moved in front of her and fiddled with the strap at her chest.

Libby made some kind of squawk or gasp. It was only then he realized his fingers were practically caressing her breasts. He stepped back quickly. “I’m sure you can manage the waistband,” he muttered.

“Uh-huh.” She kept her head down while she fiddled with the plastic locking mechanism. After a moment, she stared off into the woods. “I’m good.”

* * *

How to Sleep with the Boss is part of The Kavanaghs of Silver Glen series: In the mountains of North Carolina, one family discovers that wealth means nothing without love.

How to Sleep

with the Boss

Janice Maynard

www.millsandboon.co.uk

USA TODAY bestselling author JANICE MAYNARD knew she loved books and writing by the time she was eight years old. But it took multiple rejections and many years of trying before she sold her first three novels. After teaching kindergarten and second grade for a number of years, Janice turned in her lesson plan book and began writing full-time. Since then she has sold over thirty-five books and novellas. Janice lives in east Tennessee with her husband, Charles. They love hiking, traveling and spending time with family.

Hearing from readers is one of the best perks of the job!

You can connect with Janice at twitter.com/janicemaynard, facebook.com/janicemaynardreaderpage, www.wattpad.com/user/janicemaynard, and instagram.com/janicemaynard.

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For Caroline and Anna: beautiful daughters, dear friends, exceptional women …

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Extract

Copyright

One

“I want you to push me to my limits. So I can prove to you that I can handle it.”

Patrick stared across his paper-cluttered desk at the woman seated opposite him. Libby Parkhurst was not someone you would pick out of a crowd. Mousy brown hair, ordinary features and clothes at least one size too big for her slender frame added up to an unfortunate adjective. Forgettable.

Except for those eyes. Green. Moss, maybe. Not emerald. Emerald was too brilliant, too sharp. Libby’s green eyes were the quiet, soothing shade of a summer forest.

Patrick cleared his throat, absolutely sure his companion hadn’t intended her remark to sound provocative. Why would she? Patrick was nothing more to her than a family friend and a prospective employer. After all, Libby’s mother had been his mother’s best friend for decades.

“I appreciate your willingness to step outside your comfort zone, Libby,” he said. “But I think we both know this job is not for you. You don’t understand what it involves.” Patrick’s second in command, Charlise, was about to commence six months of maternity leave. Patrick needed a replacement ASAP. Because he had dawdled in filling the spot, his mother, Maeve Kavanagh, had rushed in to supply an interviewee.

Libby sat up straighter, her hands clenched in her lap, her expression earnest and maybe a tad desperate. “I do,” she said firmly. “Maeve described the position in detail. All I’m asking is that you run me through the paces before I have to welcome the first group.”

Patrick’s business, Silver Reflections, provided a quiet, soothing setting for professionals experiencing burnout, but also offered team-building activities for high-level management executives. Ropes courses, hiking, overnight survival treks. The experience was sometimes grueling and always demanding.

The fill-in assistant would be involved in every aspect of running Silver Reflections. While Patrick applauded Libby’s determination, he had serious doubts about her ability to handle the physical aspects of the job.

“Libby...” He sighed, caught between his instincts about filling the position and his obligation to play nice.

His unwanted guest leaned forward, gripping the edge of his desk with both hands, her knuckles white. “I need this job, Patrick. You know I do.”

Libby had him there. He’d witnessed in painful detail what the past year had been like for her—as had most of the country, thanks to the tabloids. First, Libby’s father had been sent to prison for tax fraud to the tune of several million. Then eight weeks ago, after months of being hounded by the press and forced to adopt a lifestyle far below her usual standards, Libby’s emotionally fragile mother had committed suicide.

Quite simply, in the blink of an eye, Libby Parkhurst had gone from being a sheltered heiress to a woman with virtually no resources. Her debutante education had qualified her to host her father’s dinner parties when her mother was unable or unwilling to do so. But twenty-three-year-old Libby had no practical experience, no résumé and no money.

“You won’t like it.” He was running out of socially acceptable ways to say he didn’t want her for the job.

Libby’s chin lifted. She sat back in her chair, her spine straight. The disappointment in her gaze told him she anticipated his rejection. “I know your mother made you interview me,” she said.

“I’m far past the age where my mother calls the shots in my life.” It was only partly a lie. Maeve Kavanagh wielded maternal guilt like a sharp-edged sword.

“I don’t have anything left to lose,” Libby said quietly. “No home. No family. No trust fund. It’s all gone. For the first time in my life, I’m going to have to stand on my own two feet. I’m willing and able to do that. But I need someone to give me a chance.”

Damn it. Her dignified bravery tugged at heartstrings he hadn’t tuned in ages. Why was Libby Parkhurst his problem? What was his mother thinking?

Outside his window, the late-January trees were barren and gray. Winter still had a firm hold on this corner of western North Carolina. It would be at least eight weeks before the first high-adventure group arrived. In the meantime, Libby would surely be able to handle the hotel aspects of the job. Taking reservations. Checking in guests. Making sure that all reasonable requests were accommodated.

But even if he split Charlise’s job and gave Libby the less onerous part, he’d still be stuck looking for someone who could handle the outdoor stuff. Where was he going to find a candidate with the right qualifications willing to work temporarily and part-time?

If this had been an emotional standoff, Libby would have won. She never blinked as she looked at him with all the entreaty of a puppy begging to be fed. He decided to try a different tack. “Our clients are high-end,” he said. “I need someone who can dress the part.”

Though her cheeks flushed, Libby stood her ground. “I’ve planned and overseen social events in a penthouse apartment overlooking Central Park. I think I can handle the fashion requirements.”

He eyed her frumpy clothing and lifted a brow...not saying a word.

For the first time, Libby lowered her gaze. “I suppose I hadn’t realized how much I’ve come to rely on the disguise,” she muttered. “I’ve dodged reporters for so long, my bag-lady routine has become second nature.”

Now he was the one who fidgeted. His unspoken criticism had wounded her. He felt the taste of shame. And an urgent need to make her smile. “A trial period only,” he said, conceding defeat. “I make no promises.”

Libby’s jaw dropped. “You’ll hire me?”

The joy in her damp green eyes was his undoing. “Temporarily,” he emphasized. “Charlise will be leaving in two weeks. In the meantime, she can show you how we run things here at the retreat center. When the weather gets a bit warmer, you and I will do a dry run with some of the outdoor activities. By the end of February, we’ll see how things are going.”

He had known “of” Libby for most of his life, though their paths seldom crossed. Patrick was thirty...Libby seven years younger. The last time he remembered seeing her was when Maeve had taken Patrick and his brothers to New York to see a hockey game. They had stopped by the Parkhurst home to say hello.

Libby had been a shy redheaded girl with braces and a ponytail. Patrick had been too cool at the time to do more than nod in her direction.

And now here they were.

Libby smiled at him, her radiance taking him by surprise. “You won’t be sorry, I swear.”

How had he thought she was plain? To conceal his surprise, he bent his head and scratched a series of numbers on a slip of paper. Sliding it across the desk, he made his tone flat...professional. “Here’s the salary. You can start Monday.”

When she saw the amount, Libby’s chin wobbled.

He frowned. “It’s not a lot, but I think it’s fair.”

She bit her lip. “Of course it’s fair. I was just thinking about how much money my family used to spend.”

“Is it hard?” he asked quietly. “Having to scrimp after a lifetime of luxury?”

“Yes.” She tucked the paper in her pocket. “But not in the way you think. The difficult part has been finding out how little I knew about the real world. My parents sheltered me...spoiled me. I barely knew how to cook or how much a gallon of milk cost. I guess you could say I was basically useless.”

Feeling his neck get hot, he reached for her hand, squeezing her fingers before releasing her. Something about Libby brought out his protective instincts. “No one is useless, Libby. You’ve had a hell of a year. I’m very sorry about your mother.”

She grimaced, her expression stark. “Thank you. I suppose I should tell you it wasn’t entirely a surprise. I’d been taking her back and forth to therapy sessions for weeks. She tried the suicide thing twice after my father’s trial. I don’t know if it was being without him that tormented her or the fact that she was no longer welcome in her social set, but either way, her pain was stronger than her need to be with me.”

“Suicide never makes sense. I’m sure your mother loved you.”

“Thank you for the vote of support.”

Patrick was impressed. Libby had every right to feel sorry for herself. Many women in her situation would latch onto the first available meal ticket...anything to maintain appearances and hang on to the lifestyle of a wealthy, pampered young socialite.

Libby, though, was doing her best to be independent.

“My mother thinks the world of you, Libby. I think she always wanted a daughter.”

“I don’t know what I would have done without her.”

Silence fell suddenly. Both of them knew that the only reason Patrick had agreed to interview Libby was because Maeve Kavanagh had insisted. Still, Patrick wasn’t going to go back on his word. Not now.

It wouldn’t take long for Libby to realize that she wasn’t cut out for the rigorous physical challenges that awaited her at Silver Reflections. Where Charlise had been an athlete and outdoorswoman for most of her life, Libby was a pale, fragile flower, guaranteed to wilt under pressure.

* * *

Over the next two weeks, Patrick had cause to doubt his initial assessment. Libby dived into learning her new responsibilities with gusto. She and Charlise bonded almost immediately, despite the fact that they had little in common, or so it seemed.

Charlise raved about Libby’s natural gifts for hospitality. And the fact that Libby was smart and focused and had little trouble learning the computer system and a host of other things Charlise considered vital to running Silver Reflections.

On the second Friday morning Libby was on his payroll, Patrick cornered Charlise in her office and shut the door. “Well,” he said, leaning against the wall. “Is she going to be able to handle it?”

Charlise reclined in her swivel chair, her amply rounded belly a match for her almost palpable aura of contentment. “The girl’s a natural. We’ve already had four clients who have rebooked for future dates based on their interactions with Libby. I can honestly say that I’m going to be able to walk away from here without a single qualm.”

“And the outdoor component?”

Charlise’s glow dimmed. “Well, maybe a tiny qualm.”

“It’s one thing to run this place like a hotel. But you and I both know we work like dogs when we take a group out in the woods.”

“True. But Libby has enthusiasm. That goes a long way.”

“Up until a year ago I imagine she was enjoying pedicures at pricey Park Avenue salons. Hobnobbing with Fortune 500 executives who worked with her dad. It’s a good bet she never had anyone steal her lunch money.”

Charlise gave him a loaded look. “You’re a Kavanagh, Patrick. Born with a silver spoon and everything that goes with it. Silver Reflections is your baby, but you could walk away from it tomorrow and never have to work another day in your life.”

“Fair enough.” He scratched his chin. “There’s one other problem. I told Libby that she would have to dress the part if she planned to work here. But she’s still wearing her deliberately frumpy skirts and sweaters. Is that some kind of declaration of independence? Did I make a faux pas in bringing up her clothing?”

“Oh, you poor, deluded man.”

“Why does no one around here treat me with respect?”

Charlise ignored his question. “Your mother offered to buy Libby a suitable wardrobe, but your newest employee is independent to say the least. She’s waiting to go shopping until this afternoon when she gets her first paycheck.”

“Oh, hell.”

“Exactly.”

“Wait a minute,” he said. “Why can’t she wear the clothes she had when her dad went to prison? I’ll bet she owned an entire couture wardrobe.”

“She did,” Charlise said, her expression sober. “And she sold all those designer items to pay for her mom’s treatments. Apparently the sum total of what she owns can now fit into two suitcases.”

Patrick seldom felt guilty about his life choices. He did his best to live by a code of honor Maeve had instilled in all her boys. Do the right thing. Be kind. Never let ambition trump human relationships.

He had hired Libby. Now it was time to let her know she had his support.

* * *

Libby was in heaven. After months of wallowing in uncertainty and despair, now having a concrete reason to get up every morning brought her something she hadn’t found in a long time...confidence and peace.

For whatever reason, Patrick Kavanagh had made himself scarce during Libby’s first two weeks. He’d left the training and orientation entirely up to Charlise. Which meant Libby didn’t constantly have to be looking over her shoulder. With Charlise, Libby felt relaxed and comfortable.

They had hit it off immediately. So much so that Libby experienced a pang of regret to know Charlise wouldn’t be coming back after today. Just before five, Libby went to Charlise’s office holding a small package wrapped in blue paper printed with tiny airplanes. Charlise and her accountant husband were looking forward to welcoming a fat and healthy baby boy.

Libby knocked at the open door. “I wanted to give you this before you go.”

Charlise looked up from her chore of packing personal items. Her eyes were shiny with tears. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. You’ve been so patient with me, and I appreciate it. Are you okay? Is anything wrong?”

Charlise reached for a tissue and blew her nose. “No. I don’t know why I’m so emotional. I’m very excited about the baby, and I want to stay at home with him, but I love Silver Reflections. It’s hard to imagine not coming here every day.”

“I’ll do my best to keep things running smoothly while you’re gone.”

“No doubts on that score. You’re a smart cookie, Libby. I feel completely confident about leaving things in your hands.”

“I hope you’ll bring the baby to see us when the weather is nice.”

“You can count on it.” She opened the gift slowly, taking care not to rip the paper. “Oh, Libby, this is beautiful. But it must have been way too expensive.”

Libby grimaced. She had been very honest with Charlise about her current financial situation. “It’s an antique of sorts. A family friend gave it to my parents when I was born, engraved with the initial L. When I heard you say were going to name the baby Lander, after your father, I knew I wanted you to have it.”

“But you’ve kept it all this time. Despite everything that’s happened. It must have special meaning.”

When Libby looked at the silver baby cup and bowl and spoon, her heart squeezed. “It does. It did. I think I held on to the set as a reminder of happier times. But the truth is, I don’t need it anymore. I’m looking toward the future. It will make me feel good to know your little boy is using it.”

Charlise hugged Libby tightly. “I’ll treasure it.”

Libby glanced at her watch. “I need to let you get out of here, but may I ask you one more thing before you go?”

“Of course.”

“How did you get this job working with Patrick?”

“My husband and Patrick’s brother Aidan are good friends. When Patrick put out the word that he was starting Silver Reflections, Aidan hooked us up.”

“And the high-adventure stuff?”

Charlise shrugged. “I’ve always been a tomboy. Climbing trees. Racing go-karts. Broke both arms and legs before I made it to college. At different times, thank goodness.”

“Good grief.” Libby thought about her own cocoon-like adolescence. “Do you really think I can handle the team building and physical challenges in the outdoors?”

The other woman paused, her hand hovering over a potted begonia. “Let me put it this way...” She picked up the plant and put it in a box. “I think you’ll be fine as long as you believe in yourself.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’ve heard you talk about Patrick. He intimidates you.”

“Well, I—” Libby stopped short, unable to come up with a believable lie. “Yes.”

“Don’t let him. He may come across as tough and intense at times, but underneath it all, he’s a pussycat.”

A broad-shouldered masculine frame filled the doorway. “I think I’ve just been insulted.”

Two

Libby was mortified to be caught discussing her new boss. Charlise only laughed.

Patrick went to the pregnant woman and kissed her cheek, placing his hand lightly on her belly. “Tell that husband of yours to call me the minute you go to the hospital. And let me know if either of you needs anything...anything at all.”

Charlise got all misty-eyed again. “Thanks, boss.”

“It won’t be the same without you,” he said.

“Stop that or you’ll make me cry again. Libby knows everything I know. She’s exactly who you need... I swear.”

Patrick smiled. “I believe you.” He turned to Libby. “How about dinner tonight? I’ve tried to stay out of the way while Charlise showed you the ropes, but I think it would be good for the two of us to get to know each other better. What do you say?”

Libby felt herself flush from her toes to the top of her head. Not that this was a date. It wasn’t. Not even close. But Patrick Kavanagh was an imposing specimen. Despite his comfortably elegant appearance at the hotel, she had the distinct sense that beneath the dark suits and crisp ties lurked someone who was very much a man’s man.

The kind of guy who made a woman’s toes curl with just one look from his intense blue-gray eyes. He was tall and lean and had a headful of unruly black hair. The glossy, dark strands needed a comb. Or maybe the attention of a lover’s fingers.

Her heart thumped hard, even as her stomach tumbled in a free fall. “That would be nice,” she said. Great. Now she sounded like a child going to a tea party at her grandma’s house.

Charlise picked up her purse and a small box. Patrick hefted the larger carton and followed her out of the room, leaving Libby to trail behind. Outside, the air was crisp and cold. She shivered and pulled her sweater more tightly across her chest.

Patrick stowed Charlise’s things and hugged her. The affection between the two was palpable. Libby wondered what Charlise’s husband was like. Obviously, he must be quite a guy if he let his wife work day after day with the darkly handsome Patrick Kavanagh.

Charlise eased behind the wheel, closed the car door and motioned for Libby to come closer. Patrick’s phone had rung, and he was deep in conversation with whoever was on the other end.

Libby rested a hand in the open window and leaned down. “You’re going to freeze,” she said.

The pregnant woman lowered her voice. “Don’t let him ride roughshod over you. You’re almost too nice sometimes. Stand up to him if the occasion warrants it.”

“Why would I do that? He’s the boss.”

Charlise grinned and started the engine. “Because he’s too damned arrogant for his own good. All the Kavanagh men are. They’re outrageously sexy, too, but we women have to draw a line in the sand. Trust me, Libby. Alpha males are like dangerous animals. They can smell fear. You need to project confidence even when you don’t feel it.”

“Now you’re scaring me,” Libby said, only half joking.

“I’ve known Patrick a long time. He admires grit and determination. You’ll win his respect. I have no doubt. And don’t worry about the survival training. What’s the worst that could happen?”

* * *

Libby watched the car drive away, burdened with an inescapable feeling that her only friend in the world was leaving her behind in the scary forest. When she turned around, the lights from the main lodge of Silver Reflections cast a warm glow against the gathering darkness.

Since Patrick was still tied up on the phone, she went back to Charlise’s office—now Libby’s—and printed out the staff directory. She planned to study it this weekend. Facts and figures about everyone from the housekeeping staff to the guy who kept the internet up and running. Even at an executive retreat center famed for creating an atmosphere of solitude and introspection, no one at the level of these guests was going to be happy without a connection to the outside world.

Patrick found her twenty minutes later. “You ready to go? I guess it makes sense to take two cars.”

Silver Reflections was tucked away in the mountains ten miles outside of town. In the complete opposite direction stood the magnificent Silver Beeches Lodge. Perched on a mountaintop overlooking Silver Glen, it was owned and operated by Maeve Kavanagh and her eldest son, Liam. Libby hesitated before answering, having second thoughts. “I’m sure you must have better things to do with your weekend. I’m not really dressed for dinner out.”

Patrick’s eyes darkened with a hint of displeasure. “If it will make you feel better, I’ll include these hours in your paycheck. And dinner doesn’t have to be fancy. We can go to the Silver Dollar.”

Patrick’s brother, Dylan, owned a popular watering hole in town. The saloon was definitely low-key. Certainly Libby’s clothing would not make her stand out there. “All right,” she said, realizing for the first time that Patrick’s invitation was more like an order. “I’ll meet you there.”

During the twenty-minute drive, she had time to calm her nerves. She already had the job. Patrick wasn’t going to fire her yet. All she had to do was stick it out until they did some of the outdoor stuff, and she could prove to him that she was adaptable and confident in the face of challenges.

That pep talk carried her all the way into the parking lot of the Silver Dollar. The requisite pickup trucks were definitely in evidence, but they were interspersed with Lexus and Mercedes and the occasional fancy sports car.

Libby had visited this corner of North Carolina a time or two over the years with her mother. Silver Glen was a high-end tourist town with a nod to alpine flavor and an unspoken guarantee that the paparazzi were not allowed. It wasn’t unusual to see movie stars and famous musicians wandering the streets in jeans and baseball caps.

Most of them eventually showed up at the Silver Dollar, where the beer was cold, the Angus burgers prime and the crowd comfortably raucous. Libby hovered on the porch, waiting for Patrick to arrive. The noise and color and atmosphere were worlds away from her native habitat in Manhattan, but she loved it here.

At Maeve’s urging, Libby had given up the New York apartment she could scarcely afford and had come to North Carolina for a new start. Truth be told, her native habitat was feeling more and more distant every day.

Patrick strolled into view, jingling his car keys. “Let’s grab a table,” he said. “I called Dylan and told him we were on our way.”

In no time, they were seated. Libby ordered a Coke...Patrick, an imported ale. Dylan stopped by to say hello. The smiling, very handsome bar owner was the second oldest in the seven-boy Kavanagh lineup. Patrick was the second youngest.

Patrick waved a hand at Libby. “Do you remember Libby Parkhurst? She’s going to fill in for part of Charlise’s maternity leave.”

Dylan shook Libby’s hand. “I do remember you.” He sobered. “I was sorry to hear about your mother. We have an apartment upstairs here at the Silver Dollar. I’d be happy to give it to you rent-free until you’ve had a chance to get back on your feet.”

Libby narrowed her gaze. “Did your mother guilt you into making me an offer?”

Dylan’s neck turned red. “Why would you say that? Can’t a man do something nice without getting an inquisition?”

Libby stared from one brother to the other. Apparently, down-on-her-luck Libby had become the family project. “If you’re positive it won’t be an imposition,” she said slowly. “I’m taking up a very nice guest room at Maeve’s fancy hotel, so I’m sure she’d rather have me here.”

Dylan shook his head. “Maeve is delighted to have you anywhere. Trust me. But she thought you’d like some privacy.”

* * *

Patrick studied Libby’s face as she pondered the implications of living above the bar. It was hardly what she was used to...but then again, he had no idea what her life had been like after the tax guys had swooped in and claimed their due.

Dylan wandered away to deal with a bar-related problem, and on impulse, Patrick asked the question on his mind. “Will you tell me about this past year? Where you’ve been? How things unfolded? Sometimes it helps to talk to a neutral third party.”

Libby sipped her Coke, her gaze on the crowd. Friday nights were always popular at the Silver Dollar. He studied her profile. She had a stubborn chin, but everything else about her was soft and feminine. He would bet money that after one night in the woods, Libby was going to admit she was in over her head.

When she looked at him, those beautiful eyes gave him a jolt—awareness laced with the tiniest bit of sexual interest. He shut down that idea quickly. Maeve would have his head on a platter if he messed with her protégé. And besides, Libby wasn’t his type. Not at all.

Libby’s lips curved in a rueful half smile. “It was frightening and traumatic and definitely educational. Fortunately, my mother had a few stocks and bonds that were in her name only. We managed to find an apartment we could afford, but it was pretty dismal. I wanted to go out and look for work, but she insisted she needed me close. I think losing the buffer of wealth and privilege made her feel painfully vulnerable.”

“What about your father?”

“We had some minimal contact with him. But Mama and I both felt betrayed, so we didn’t go out of our way to visit. I suppose that makes me sound hard and selfish.”

Patrick shook his head. “Not at all. A man’s duty is to care for his family. Your father deceived you, broke your trust and failed to provide for you. It’s understandable that you have issues.”

She stared at him. “You speak from experience, don’t you? My mother told me about what happened years ago.”

Patrick hadn’t expected her to be so quick on the uptake. Now he was rather sorry he’d raised the subject. His own father, Reggie Kavanagh, had been determined to find the lost silver mine that had made the first Kavanaghs in North Carolina extremely wealthy. Reggie had spent months, years...looking, always looking.

His obsession cost him his family.

“I was just a little kid,” Patrick said. “My brother Liam has the worst memories. But yeah...I understand. My mother had every right to be bitter and angry, but somehow she pulled herself together and kept tabs on seven boys.”