

1

### Fern's Fancies

by Lillie Ammann

Smashwords Edition

©1997 Lillian A. Ammann

All rights reserved.

Find other e-books by Lillie Ammann at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/lillieammann

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

CHAPTER ONE

Fern's hazel eyes widened as she looked from the calendar on the wall to the message on her computer screen.

Date: August 9, 1997Time: 1645 CDT

To: Fern Tate, San Antonio Branch Manager

From: Pendleton Morgenthal, III, Southwest Regional Manager

Subject: San Antonio inspection visit

Message: As the new Southwest Regional Manager, I will be in San Antonio for an inspection of your branch, August 13-August 28. I'm arriving on American flight 682 at San Antonio International Airport at 2:35 P.M., Tuesday, August 13. Pick me up at the airport, and be prepared to meet with me at any time. The purpose of this visit is to integrate Fern's Fancies into an effective branch of Ultimate Plant Service, Inc.

Today was August 13. She read the e-mail message again and looked at her watch. Almost 1:30—she'd have to hurry. She didn't want to be late and face the wrath of her new boss. His memo made him sound demanding—he'd probably be even worse in person.

After she printed out the message, she hurried into the reception area. "Maria, I just can't get used to having our computer hooked into the one in the main office. I forgot to check my e-mail yesterday, and I almost missed this message. It came in late Friday."

Maria quickly scanned the message. "Oh, Fern, you'd better leave right now. I'll get the warehouse crew to help me straighten up and make sure everything's in good shape around here by the time you get back."

Only a few weeks before, Fern had sold her small interior landscape company, Fern's Fancies, to Ultimate Plant Service, Inc. Since then she had struggled to cope with the change. She'd been so excited and proud when a large and well-respected national corporation approached her to buy her company. She hadn't realized how much her business would change.

Thank goodness, she finally remembered to check her messages. She shuddered to imagine what would happen if she didn't show up at the airport at the appointed time to meet Mr. High and Mighty.

An hour later, she stood in the terminal counting to ten for the third time. She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. She couldn't believe that the company expected her to interrupt her workday to pick up this executive. She knew he had to be pompous, supercilious, and downright obnoxious. He'd probably never watered a plant in his life.

The inconsiderate snob didn't even have the decency to be on the flight. She double-checked the sign at the gate. This was flight 682. But no Mr. Pendleton Morgenthal, III. All the passengers had deplaned, and he definitely wasn't there.

Although she'd never met him, she knew exactly what he'd look like. His name and the tone of that e-mail message created a perfect picture in her mind. Pendleton Morgenthal—what a name. She had a clear mental image of a dapper little middle-aged man wearing a suit and vest with a tie in spite of the south Texas heat and casual lifestyle.

He'd greet her, oh so properly, in a high-pitched voice and insist she take him directly to the office. Then he would proceed to tell her all the changes she had to make in the operation of her business. Okay, so it wasn't exactly her business anymore, but ....

Wait a minute. Why was she angry? So she wasted a couple of hours on this fruitless trip to the airport. She had a reprieve. Whatever the insufferable Mr. Morgenthal's reasons for not being here, it was fortunate for her that he wasn't. Now she could get back to work without interference.

She took one more look around just to be sure. No one was left in the gate area except one man. Oh, but what a man. Even from a distance, she could tell he was drop-dead gorgeous, the most delicious hunk she'd ever seen. With guys like that wandering around loose, why did she have to deal with the Pendleton Morgenthals of the world?

She couldn't keep herself from staring. Fortunately he was looking in the opposite direction so he didn't see her gawking. His blond hair was longer than she usually liked to see on a man, but on him it was perfect. She'd thought she liked dark-haired men, but now she wondered why she hadn't realized how attractive a blond man could be. Especially when he had broad shoulders embraced by a stretchy black polo shirt. His low-slung jeans looked like they were painted on those lean hips and muscular thighs and . . .

She felt herself grow warmer, and her fingers itched to run through his glorious hair. Suddenly he looked in her direction, and eyes the color of coffee with just a touch of cream locked with hers. "Well, Fern, it's about time you noticed me. I'm Pen Morgenthal."

That magnetic voice set her nerve endings on fire.

What was the matter with her? This was Pendleton Morgenthal! This was her imaginary dapper little middle-aged man? He wasn't dapper or little or middle-aged. He exuded virility. Far from small, he stood over six feet tall, and he had shoulders broad enough to carry the largest tree her company had ever handled. He was closer to her own age of thirty than anything that could be remotely called middle-age.

This was her new boss, for heaven's sake. The new boss who was so obnoxious he might make her regret selling her company to a huge conglomerate. She didn't think executives of mega-companies like Ultimate Plant Service, Inc. had mesmerizing eyes or magnetic voices. She expected regional managers ...

"Fern? You are Fern Tate, aren't you?" There was that voice again, talking to her. "You're wearing a Fern's Fancies' tee-shirt, and Fern is supposed to meet me. If you're not Fern, who are you?"

"I'm Fern." Good grief. Her voice squeaked. Her voice never squeaked, just like she never ogled men or created romantic fantasies just from hearing a voice. She cleared her throat. "Yes, I'm Fern. Nice to meet you, Mr. Morgenthal. I'm sorry I didn't recognize you immediately."

His lips curved upward in a small smile. "You can drop the Mr. Morgenthal. Every time I hear that, I look around for my father. I'm Pen to all my co-workers. Now, where's the baggage claim?"

"This way," she said as she stepped in front of him. If she led the way, she wouldn't have to talk to him. She just needed time to regain her equilibrium. She was a sensible, pragmatic businesswoman, not some teenager with a crush on a rock star. She'd be back to normal when they reached the baggage claim.

Pen enjoyed the view as he followed Fern through the terminal. He hadn't expected to be punched in the gut with his reaction to her. He was glad she hadn't seen him until he'd had time to recover from his first sight of her.

He grinned to himself as he watched the sway of her shapely hips in front of him. She might think that uniform of jeans and a polo shirt with the company logo was businesslike, but the body the uniform covered was as sultry as her voice.

Oh, her voice hadn't been so sultry just now. She must be nervous about meeting the new regional manager. But he'd heard her on the speaker phone as he walked into his boss's office a few days ago. How could a woman discussing business over a speaker phone sound so enticing? He'd wondered what she looked like ever since. The reality was better than the fantasies he'd created.

He wished she didn't have that ink black hair wrapped up in some kind of bun. The curls escaping around her face were driving him wild, and he wondered if her hair was as long as he imagined.

What was he doing? He couldn't afford to have lustful fantasies about this woman. He was here to integrate the operation of Fern's Fancies into the Ultimate Plant Service family.

He didn't have time to get involved with a woman, and if he did, it wouldn't be with a woman who reported to him. His career was too important to risk a complaint of sexual harassment when the relationship soured.

Pen was so engrossed in his thoughts and the rhythmic sway of those curvy hips that he didn't realize they had reached the baggage claim area until the mesmerizing swaying suddenly stopped. Most of the passengers had already claimed their bags, so it was easy to spot his tartan plaid garment bag and soft- sided suitcase. He already had a briefcase in one hand, so he set the bags beside the carousel and looked around for a skycap. Before he realized what was happening, Fern had picked up his bags and started walking toward the exit.

He hurried to catch up with her.

"Where are your claim checks?" she asked as she stopped at the checkpoint.

He showed his tickets to the attendant, but he spoke to Fern. "I can find a skycap. You don't have to carry my bags."

He tried to take the garment bag from her, but she held onto it. "In case you've forgotten, I'm an interior landscaper. I carry heavy plants and trees all the time. Carrying a couple of bags of clothes won't hurt me."

"You're not on the job now."

"I'm not? Did I imagine that e-mail message telling me to meet you?"

He laughed. "Okay. You're on the job. I just meant carrying my bags wasn't part of your job." He motioned her forward with a sweeping gesture. "But, hey, if you feel like carrying bags, by all means, be my guest."

A blast of hot air hit them as they left the terminal. Fern led the way toward the parking garage across the street. She had the trunk open and the bags stowed by the time Pen reached the car. He held onto his briefcase.

"Where to?" she asked when they were both seated in the car.

"I'd better check into the hotel." He opened his briefcase to look at his itinerary. "I'm staying at the San Antonio Fiesta."

Fern nodded and drove her beige Chevy out of the parking lot. When she stopped at the toll booth, Pen handed her the money to pay for the parking.

"Actually the hotel is close to the office, so it'll be convenient," she said. "I'm very familiar with the hotel. It happens to be one of our largest accounts." She hoped the tone of her voice was proud, rather than boastful. The hotel was their premier plant leasing account.

"You don't think I'd spend Ultimate's money on a hotel that would use it to pay our competitors, do you?"

"Oh, you mean you checked the client list before making reservations?" she asked.

"Well, I didn't do it personally." His sensual lips lifted in a smile. "I can always count on Melissa."

Why did she feel a pang of jealousy? "Who's Melissa?"

Pen put the paper back in the briefcase and closed it. "You should know who Melissa is. She's an administrative assistant in the corporate office. You've spoken with her several times since Ultimate bought your company."

"Oh, sure, I know Melissa," Fern answered.

How stupid could she be? She spoke to Melissa on the phone almost daily and faxed her weekly reports. Of course, Melissa would be the one to make his travel arrangements. Why had she immediately wondered if this Melissa he could always count on was his girlfriend?

Why should she care, anyway? He was just her boss. His personal life wasn't any of her business.

"Melissa is the best administrative assistant in the whole corporation, and that's saying a lot. Ultimate is very picky, especially in the corporate office. We hire only the best." He set his briefcase in the seat between them and looked at her with a cocky, lopsided grin. "And, of course, I'm the best regional manager."

Fern ignored his comment. "I thought you had just become regional manager."

"Fern, Fern, Fern." His head moved from side to side each time he said her name. "Didn't you study the organization chart you got from corporate development? I was Northeast Regional Manager for seven years, which makes me the most experienced regional manager at Ultimate. That's why I got the Southwest Region. With all the acquisitions in the works now, it'll be the largest region within the next year."

She hadn't realized he was so important. "I'm duly impressed."

Pen's husky laughter seemed to vibrate throughout Fern's body. "Don't be yet. So far, the one and only branch of Ultimate Plant Service in the Southwest Region is Fern's Fancies in San Antonio."

Fern glanced at him in surprise. "I didn't know that. I thought Ultimate had several deals going in this area at the same time they bought my company."

"Actually, we did and do. We're about to close on companies in Dallas, Houston, Austin, Albuquerque, and Oklahoma City. Yours just happened to be the first."

She breathed a silent sigh of relief that the hotel was now in sight.

"I hope you won't be disappointed in Fern's Fancies," she said in a whisper. Then louder, she continued, "Here's the hotel. Do you want me to wait in the car?"

"Of course not. Come on in the lobby while I register. It's too hot to stay out here."

A bellman waited by the car with a luggage cart. Fern opened the trunk and stood back. Pen pointed to the bags in the trunk, but he continued to hold onto his briefcase. When Fern looked at it with her eyebrows arched in a question, he said, "My laptop computer is in here. I always carry it myself."

She followed him into the lobby. He stepped up to the registration desk and introduced himself.

"Oh, Mr. Morgenthal. We didn't realize you were traveling with a companion. We put you in a single room. Would you like a double or a king?"

He looked from the desk clerk to Fern and back to the clerk again. Then he winked at the desk clerk. "The single's fine."

Was the man crazy? Or was it her? Why did he let the desk clerk think they were together?

Fern's face and neck burned with embarrassment. This was too close to the fantasies she'd had earlier. She'd imagined being alone with Pen ...

He finished registering. He handed the bellman a tip and asked him to take his bags to the room.

"Okay. It's time for me to take my first look at Fern's Fancies."

During the drive to the office, she pointed out the buildings along the way that had plants serviced by Fern's Fancies. "We maintain the plants in all the buildings between the hotel and the office."

"But our presence in the downtown market is far below expectations," Pen said. "That's the first item of business." His voice had turned serious.

Fern took a deep breath. She must remain calm. She must not lose her temper. This man was her boss. "San Antonio Foliage has had a monopoly on the downtown market for years. They were in business before we were, so they had the major downtown accounts locked up."

Although she was looking ahead at the road, she felt his eyes boring into her. "Nobody has a lock on any market," he said. "If anybody has a monopoly on any segment of the plantscape business in San Antonio, it will be Ultimate Plant Service. Is that understood?"

Omigosh. What if they were planning to bring somebody else in to run this office? Hadn't they agreed to keep her as manager? Thoughts raced through her head, and she couldn't remember whether or not her continued employment was part of the contract.

The offer from Ultimate had sounded so wonderful. She would continue to manage the company, and the national corporation would provide resources she couldn't. Together they would create the best interior landscape company in San Antonio. Together? What if they never really meant together? Were they planning to ease her out—maybe even push her out—and bring in someone else to run Fern's Fancies?

She forced her thoughts to the back of her mind as she pulled into the parking lot. "Here we are," she said, pointing to the sign in front of the building. "Fern's Fancies."

She parked her sedan and turned off the ignition.

"Actually, I'm ahead of myself," Pen said. "The first priority is not the downtown market. The first thing we're doing is get rid of that awful name." He picked up his briefcase and opened the car door. "The new sign for Ultimate Plant Service should have been delivered by now."

Fern, usually the epitome of calm organization, dropped her keys as her hands began to shake. That awful name was her name.

CHAPTER TWO

Pen was almost to the office door by the time Fern had picked up her dropped keys and gathered her scattered wits. She locked the car and hurried to catch up with him. She wasn't about to let him inside the office without her. No telling what he would say or do.

"What's this about a new sign?" she asked as she reached his side.

"Corporate wants everything converted from Fern's Fancies to Ultimate Plant Service by the end of next week. The sign should already have been delivered, and new letterhead, forms, and envelopes should be here in the next couple of days."

He reached in front of her to open the door. She bit her lower lip. As much as she wanted to continue the conversation, she wouldn't let her employees find out she didn't know any more about what was happening than they did.

When they entered the small reception area, Fern glanced sideways to see if Pen was admiring the awards on the wall. He ignored all those symbols of her accomplishments and smiled at the receptionist.

"You must be Mr. Morgenthal. I'm Maria," the petite brunette at the front desk said. She stood, took a step closer, and held out her hand. "Mr. Morgenthal, we're so pleased to have you here at Fern's Fancies."

He took her hand in a firm handshake and said, "My pleasure, Maria. Please, call me, Pen—we'll be working closely together. We'll visit more later. Now, Fern is going to introduce me to the rest of the staff."

Fern barely managed to keep her sarcastic response to herself. _Of course, Fern's been waiting all day for that rare privilege_ , she fumed. She hoped the insincere smile she plastered on her face didn't look as fake as the plastic plants she hated.

"Well, there aren't many here right now. The technicians are out maintaining plants." She looked at Maria. "Have Toby and Lee come back in from their afternoon run?"

"They—"

"If they were in the company truck, they're back," Pen interrupted. "The truck is parked at the warehouse door."

And if she'd been paying attention instead of falling apart about getting rid of that _awful_ name, she'd have realized that. She had parked the car just fifty feet from the truck.

She ignored Pen's comment and said, "We'll stop in the clerical office on the way to the warehouse."

The next office was separated into two small work stations. Each desk held a computer terminal, and several printers lined the table between the desks.

Fern introduced the two women sitting at the desks. "Pen, this is Hannah, our bookkeeper." She nodded toward a small woman with gray hair and a lined face. "And this is Jean, our data entry clerk." She indicated the young blonde with cheerleader looks and bounce.

Pen shook hands with each of them. "Hi. I'm looking forward to working with you ladies. I've seen your work from reports sent to corporate."

"Welcome, Mr. Morgenthal."

"Nice to meet you, sir."

Even though Hannah was probably thirty years Pen's senior, he said, "None of this Mr. or sir stuff. You don't want to make me feel old, do you?"

Jean giggled. "No, sir, I mean, no. We just want to make you feel important. I mean, we know you are important, and we're just trying to show respect. I mean . . ." Jean's face glowed red as she stammered an explanation.

Pen threw his head back and laughed. Fern felt his laughter resound through her whole body. Incredible eyes, fantastic voice, and now a contagious laugh. Omigosh, she had a feeling this guy was going to be big trouble in more ways than one.

"I appreciate your respect, Jean. You don't need to try to make me feel important." He winked. "Just between you and me, my mother tells me I think way too much of myself already. So don't contribute to my conceit, okay?"

"If you want to meet Toby and Lee before they go into overtime, we'd better move on to the warehouse." The words sounded harsher than Fern intended, but he should appreciate her concern for Ultimate's payroll.

He raised his hand to his forehead and gave a jaunty salute as he left the room. "Onward and upward."

Fern looked around the warehouse, relieved to see that it was in reasonable order. Since they usually didn't have visitors, cleanup sometimes ranked low on the priority list. At least all the leaves and debris had been swept up and the tools and supplies had been put away.

Toby and Lee were closing one of the large overhead doors. After they locked it, they stepped forward to greet the two managers. Pen introduced himself and asked them how long they had been back in the warehouse.

"Just a few minutes—we were out most of the afternoon," Toby answered.

"I was wondering if the new sign had been delivered. It should have been installed this afternoon."

Toby shrugged. "Nope. No sign here."

"Okay, guys, thanks. I'll be seeing more of you in the next couple of weeks."

He was walking back toward the front office. Fern, wondering why she had even come with him to the warehouse, asked, "Well, now that I've introduced you to everyone, what's next?" She bit her lip again. At this rate, she was going to have a lower lip full of teeth marks, and it wasn't doing anything to stop her sarcastic comments.

"Let's find out from Maria if she's heard anything about the sign." He stopped and turned to look at her. Look at her? His gaze raked her body from head to toe. "Then you and I can find a nice, quiet place for a working dinner."

"Dinner? I'm afraid I've already made plans for dinner." She thought of Kevin, her next-door neighbor who was trying to become a much closer acquaintance. Today was Tuesday, so he was grilling hamburgers in the backyard of their duplex.

"Sorry. You'll just have to unmake them. Change your hot date to another night."

"Huh?"

"You said you've made plans for dinner. I'm afraid you'll have to unmake them."

_Unmake_ her plans? Not hardly. "Maybe I have to get home to a house full of kids."

"Fern, Fern, Fern." His head moved from side to side. "I'm your boss, remember? I've read your personnel file. You're single—never been married—no children. Maybe you've just got a hot date you don't want to cancel."

She held her left arm in front of his face and pointed to her wristwatch. "See that. It's almost five o'clock—quitting time. I'll be on my own time in a few minutes."

"Fern, Fern, Fern." Pen shook his head and took her hand to lead her inside the office. "You are a branch manager, which makes you a corporate executive. Don't you know that executives aren't bound by such things as time clocks and overtime? You're on salary. Unfortunately for you, your workday will not end at five o'clock today. It might end at seven, or maybe ten, or who knows?"

Another bite to the lower lip. She'd probably be bleeding any minute now. "Isn't it reasonable for me to expect some advance notice for working late? In case you've forgotten, I've run this company for ten years. I've done more than my share of working late—sometimes I've worked sixty or seventy hours a week." She could hear her voice rise and her words speed up, but she couldn't seem to help herself. "But I don't think it's reasonable to expect me to work late without notice." She pulled away, but he didn't release her hand.

"You had notice."

"Notice? You tell me at five o'clock I'm going to work late. What kind of notice is that?"

"Fern, Fern, Fern. You must have read your e-mail—you were at the airport to pick me up. Don't you recall that my memo instructed you to be ready to meet with me at any time during my visit?"

"I didn't know it meant after business hours."

"Well, now you know. Come on, we need to see Maria before she leaves." Still holding her hand, he pulled her forward into the office.

He asked Maria about the sign.

"Oh, Pen, I forgot to tell you. The sign company called and said they were delayed on another installation today. They should be here tomorrow."

"Thanks, Maria. Good night. See you tomorrow."

"Sure thing. Good night, Fern," Maria called over her shoulder on her way out the door.

"Where's your office?" Pen asked.

She showed him the large office between the reception area and the clerical office. At least, she had always considered it a large office. Suddenly, it shrank when filled with more than six feet of pure muscle and masculine beauty.

Pen looked around the room. His forehead wrinkled. "We have to add another desk for me. We can move your desk this way," he motioned with his arm, "and put mine over here. That small file will fit right here between the desks. It'll be crowded, but we can make it work."

"Wait a minute. You can use my desk for the two weeks or so you're going to be here. Why do we need to add another desk?"

He ignored her question. "Where do you want to eat?"

"May I make a phone call first?"

"Of course. You can make as many phone calls as you want."

"I'll use Maria's phone so you can look around on your own." She started backing out of the room.

"No need for that. I've seen all I want to see. Go ahead and make your call right here." He grinned the cocky grin that seemed to turn her insides to jelly, like that nasty polymer she added to soil to hold moisture for plants. He added, "I won't listen."

She handed him the car keys. "Why don't you go on to the car? I won't be a minute."

"Go ahead and make your call. I'll wait for you right here."

He probably wanted to be sure she didn't tell anyone what she thought about him. She'd formed a strong dislike of him just from reading his memo, and it had only intensified since she'd met him. _Yeah, sure,_ she told herself, _that's why I feel like an adolescent with her first crush._

She sat at the desk with her back to Pen as she dialed the phone. Kevin answered on the first ring.

"Kev, it's Fern." She knew Pen was listening. "Look, I'm sorry, but I have to work late tonight. I won't be able to make dinner."

As she knew he would, Kevin offered either to cook later or to bring dinner to her at the office.

"I won't be at the office, and I'll be home way too late for dinner."

When he reminded her that she had to eat sometime, she admitted, "I'm having a working dinner with my new boss."

Kevin said, "I thought you were still the branch manager even after selling your business to that giant corporation. Who's this boss?"

Who, indeed? She could hardly tell Kevin anything with Mr. Bossman himself sitting right there. "I'll explain it all later, Kevin. I'm really sorry. I was looking forward to it."

Kevin said, "I'll watch for you and go over to your place when you get home."

"No, don't wait up for me. It might be very late. And you have to get up so early. I'll explain everything tomorrow, I promise."

Although Kevin let her know he wasn't happy about the change of plans or her lack of explanation, she finally managed to say goodbye and hang up the phone.

"Lover Boy unhappy you're working late? I heard you tell him not to wait up for you. Of course, you can always wake him up when you get in."

Fern whirled around to face him. She took a deep breath and silently counted to ten before she said, "I thought you weren't going to listen."

"I didn't intend to. But your voice, well ..."

_Her voice_ , yeah, _her voice,_ Pen thought. That voice would be the death of him. It was bad enough listening to her talk about business. In the low, husky voice of hers, even an accounting of which buildings were company clients sounded like an invitation to a private—very private—party. But when she was talking to the boyfriend, now that really shot his blood pressure through the ceiling.

The boyfriend? He was more than a casual boyfriend, obviously. She'd told him not to wait up for her. _Stop!_ She was his subordinate, and he had no business thinking about her gorgeous looks, her sultry voice, or her personal life.

And he was continuing the torture by ordering her to have dinner with him. He should take company records back to the hotel and spend the evening studying them. He always spent the first few days of an inspection familiarizing himself with the history of the branch. He usually reviewed the books first. Then he met with the branch manager. He could compare what she told him with what he'd learned from the records.

So why had he changed his routine with Fern's Fancies? Fern's Fancies—an awful name. Sure, it was kinda cute and had probably worked well for her. But now this company was a branch of the best and the largest plantscape company in the nation. The industry had matured, and cutesy was out. Yeah, it was time to have a respectable, professional name. Ultimate Plant Service was much more businesslike than Fern's Fancies.

"My voice what?" Fern demanded.

He'd been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he'd forgotten she was standing there glaring at him. "Never mind. Let's go. Why don't we eat in the hotel restaurant? That would probably be the most convenient."

Why did he say that? He knew better than to meet a female employee in a hotel, even in the restaurant. It sounded like he wanted to take her back to his room . As appealing as Fancy Fern was, she was his subordinate, and, therefore, off limits for romance.

"No, thank you, sir, Mr. Morgenthal, sir. If we're having a working dinner, we can choose a restaurant between here and the hotel. Better yet, we can work right here. If you're hungry, we can have pizza or Chinese delivered."

He thought she looked adorable as indignation flashed in her eyes. Hazel was such a feeble description for the color of her eyes. They were greener now—earlier they'd been almost brown. Years of practice at the negotiating table enabled him to hide the smile that insisted on springing to his lips. Something about this feisty woman trying so hard to be respectful seemed to have an uplifting effect on his lips. He'd smiled more that afternoon than he could ever remember doing.

"No pizza or Chinese, please. I don't cook, so when I'm home, I seem to live on the stuff."

"No wife or girlfriend to cook for you?"

"Nope. I'm single and live alone. I've heard San Antonio is famous for its Mexican food. Is there a good Mexican restaurant nearby?"

"El Mas Mejor is the best," Fern said. Then she chuckled. "You obviously don't know any Spanish. 'El mas mejor' means the best, and it is the best."

Pen laughed along with her. "El Mas Mejor it is then."

They locked up the office and got in the car, Pen still lugging the ubiquitous briefcase with the laptop computer. She drove the few blocks to the restaurant and parked. It came as no surprise that he carried the briefcase into the restaurant.

"Is that thing a prop or do you really use it?" she asked after they were seated with the computer stashed under Pen's chair.

"Believe me, I use it. When we're at the office, I'll use one of the terminals there. But in the hotel, on the plane, or meetings like this, it gets a workout."

Fern closed her menu without looking at it. Pen looked at it and shook his head. "How can anybody decide? I don't even know what half this stuff is. What are you having?"

"The #1 special there on the left side of the menu. I always get it because it has a little bit of everything."

He closed his menu. "I'll take your advice, but you'll have to tell me what's what."

"Haven't you ever had Mexican food before?"

"Nothing except fast food tacos or frozen dinners."

"Then you've never had Mexican food."

The waiter brought their iced tea and took their order. They chatted about the weather and the attractions of San Antonio and Chicago.

When the appetizers arrived, Fern said, "These are nachos, and the little green things aren't olives or pickles—they're jalapeno peppers. They're hot. Do you like hot stuff?"

A loaded question, if there ever was one. She was about the hottest stuff he'd ever seen. He was hot enough just sitting across the table from her, never mind the jalapenos. Maybe a jalapeno pepper would cool him down. He reached over to pick up the cheese-covered chip topped with the largest slice of pepper. He raised it to his lips and took a bite.

He instantly dropped the nacho and jumped out of his chair. He grabbed his water glass and swallowed several huge gulps of water. He raised his napkin to his face, wiped the sweat forming on his brow, and fanned himself with the napkin. It wasn't until he saw Fern staring that he realized that, while the pepper may have set fire to his mouth, it had done nothing to cool his passion.

CHAPTER THREE

Omigosh. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the incredible sight of Pen jumping up and gulping water. It was a good thing there were no flies in the restaurant. The way her mouth was hanging open, she'd have caught them all for sure. Get a grip, Fern, she told herself.

He sat and took several sips of water. "You said they were hot. You didn't say they would make the fires of hell feel cold."

"Oh, come on now. The jalapeno wasn't that hot. Texans eat them like candy."

"What other little surprises do you have up your sleeve? I guess this is your way of torturing the new boss so he'll go away. Why did I ask your advice on what to order?" He wiped his brow again.

She did want the new boss to go away, but she wasn't stupid enough to try to chase him off. Was she?

"I did warn you. You're the one who decided to prove how macho you were." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to pull them back. "Look, I'm sorry about this whole thing. If I warn you about something from now on, just listen. Okay?"

"You'd better believe it. Master of understatement that you obviously are, I'll take even the slightest hint very seriously."

Fern silently thanked her lucky stars that the waiter chose that moment to serve their meals. "Hot plate," he said. The tantalizing smells teased her taste buds.

"Most things on the plate are a little bit spicy, but nothing is hot."

"What do you call a little spicy?" He eyed his plate as if it might jump up and attack him.

"Just take small test bites at first." She pointed to the items on the plate. "Those are cheese enchiladas—not the least bit spicy and very good."

He cut a small piece of the cheese-filled tortilla dripping with reddish-orange sauce. He opened his mouth and took the tiny bite, his hand on his water glass. She felt herself relax as continued to eat.

"That wasn't so bad, was it? Now try a taco." She picked up her own and showed him how to hold the crispy tortilla shell. "If you aren't careful, most of the beef, lettuce, and tomatoes will fall out on the way to your mouth. If you want to make it easier to eat, you can cheat and wrap a soft tortilla around the whole taco. Then you can eat it without making a mess."

Pen wrapped the taco and tasted it. "Pretty good. What's this?" he asked as he pointed to his plate.

She identified the chalupa, refried beans, chili, rice, and tortillas. Soon the only sounds were the crunch of the crispy tacos and the scrape of their forks on the plates. Fern noticed the waiter refilling Pen's water and iced tea glasses several times. He didn't say anything, but he did eat everything.

She told herself to ignore Pen and concentrate on her own food. She considered herself a master of self-control. Her mind always ruled her body. Why were her hormones in control now? She put down her fork and clenched her hands in her lap to resist the temptation to reach across the table to touch his cheek and feel the hint of stubble on his chin.

Did he need to shave twice a day? She had to stop these ridiculous thoughts. She would not drool over any man—especially the man who was here to take away her precious independence.

Pen slid his empty plate further onto the table. He pushed his chair back and stretched his long legs in front of him. Looking from Fern's plate to her face, he asked, "Aren't you hungry? You've barely touched your food."

"I'm a slow eater." Yeah, sure—she was generally the first one finished eating. She often ate her meals on the run, gobbling a sandwich in the car driving between appointments.

"Take your time. We'll go ahead with our discussion while you finish." He took the briefcase from under his chair, put it on the table, opened it, and took out a single sheet of paper. "I've got all the info in the computer, but we'll save that for tomorrow. Tonight I'll just give you an overview of what's coming."

A knot formed in her stomach. She ate Mexican food all the time—the food didn't cause the knot. This man held her future in his hands. Resisting the urge to push her plate away, she moved the food around on her plate until it was a nasty mess. She wouldn't let him see that anxiety had taken away her appetite.

"I'm all ears," she said.

_Not hardly,_ Pen thought. He saw plenty of things she was, and ears didn't even make the list. Beauty, curves, and the sexiest voice in the Southwest were right there at the top. He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair.

"As I mentioned, corporate is eager to change the name Fern's Fancies. Two reasons: number one, it's just not professional. Number two, every branch in the country must be under the same name or the benefit of multiple branches is diluted."

He heard her take a deep breath and noticed her bite her lower lip. She was trying to hide it, but she didn't like this one bit. Branch managers, especially brand new ones, usually treated him with reserve and respect. It took some time for him to interpret their body language. How had he come to read this woman's body language so soon? Maybe because he paid so much attention to that gorgeous body?

"Why didn't anybody tell me this during the negotiations?"

"Fern, Fern, Fern." He shook his head. "There was nothing secretive about it. I'd guess the guys from corporate development didn't even think to mention something so obvious." He wondered why the company negotiators hadn't prepared her for this, but he would never criticize management to an employee.

"Well, thank you. Are you saying I'm stupid not to know something so," she mimicked his voice, "'obvious?'"

"That's quite a stretch. I never—"

Fern interrupted. "Pretend I didn't say that, okay? Can we go back to where you tell me the two reasons for changing the name? Then I'll say, 'Of course, I understand completely.'"

Pen found himself grinning. "That's good. Now, let's talk about how this will be done. You already know about the sign being installed tomorrow."

She nodded without looking at him.

He continued. "Corporate's taken care of letterhead, envelopes, business cards, and forms. We have everything printed in Chicago to standardize paperwork across the country. The only changes are the local address and phone number."

"You said the paperwork would be here in a few days. Is anybody going to tell the customers? Or will they just get an invoice from Ultimate Plant Service with no warning?" Her voice gave Pen goose bumps even when she enunciated each word.

"As the branch manager, you'll have that responsibility." He laid the paper back in the briefcase.

"All the responsibility and no authority—is that the way it's going to be?"

Pen was shocked to see her eyes glistening with unshed tears. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. This woman, an employee, was behaving in a way that could be considered insubordination, yet all he could think about were those flashing eyes that had turned green again. What was wrong with him? He had perfect self-control. Business was business and pleasure was pleasure, and never the twain shall meet. He should take disciplinary action right now. If he allowed Fern to act this way now, she'd become more of a problem for him as time went by.

Something—maybe those unshed tears—held him back from taking action. Was she always like this? The negotiators from the corporate office had nothing but praise for her professionalism. Why was she acting like this now?

"Fern, we've started over once. I'm going to give you one more chance. It's been an hellacious day, and neither one of us is at our best. We'll shelve this discussion for tonight and start fresh tomorrow morning." He closed the briefcase and reached in his pocket for his wallet.

All the time he was settling the bill with the waiter, he watched Fern out of the corner of his eye. He could almost see her reviewing the conversation in her mind.

"Omigosh." She didn't even seem to realize she'd spoken aloud. Obviously, she finally realized what she'd done.

When the waiter returned his credit card, Pen stood and picked up the briefcase. "Are you ready to take me back to the hotel?"

She nodded and followed him out of the restaurant. "What time do you want me to pick you up in the morning?" she asked when they were in the car headed to the hotel.

"Six-thirty."

"Six-thirty? The office doesn't open until eight o'clock."

"You and I are going to be there at least an hour before opening. I want to check out the morning routine. That means I have to be the first one there." He adjusted the car's air-conditioning vents to blow directly on his face. He was still hot. "You might as well tell Lover Boy you'll be late again tomorrow. We're going to be the last to leave, as well."

"He's ..."

Pen cringed when he saw her bite her lower lip again. Did she have to mutilate herself to keep from saying what was obviously fighting to come out of her mouth?

Fortunately it was a short drive to the hotel. She pulled into the porte-cochere and sat with the motor running. "Good night. I'll see you at six-thirty in the morning."

On the drive from the hotel to her duplex, Fern released her pent-up fury. She said everything she had bitten off while she was with Pen. Said? Actually she shouted, she ranted, she screamed, she pounded her fist on the steering wheel when she was stopped at a red light.

Had she made the worst mistake of her life when she'd sold her business? She'd envisioned herself as a corporate executive and her company with all the resources of a large, national company. Why she hadn't realized her small business—her baby—would just become an insignificant part of the vast corporate world? And that she would be just one more cog in the wheel of a vast corporate machine?

Five o'clock the next morning came too soon, even though Fern wasn't sure she'd slept at all. She forced herself to roll out of bed as soon as the alarm sounded, rather than to punch the snooze button and roll over as she usually did.

She'd made a royal botch of everything yesterday, and now she had to face Pen at the worst possible time of day. Even if she managed to move her body, her brain wouldn't start to work until much later in the day. She cringed to think of all the trouble she could get into before her mind started working, if it ever did in the presence of that infuriating hunk who was her new boss.

A stinging hot shower pounded some life into her body, and the smell of strong coffee opened her eyes. She had ground twice as many beans as usual when she started the coffeepot before her shower in hopes of shocking herself into some semblance of alertness.

At least she didn't like to talk much for the first few hours after she awoke. The knot in her stomach and the tension in her shoulders warned her she couldn't avoid trouble, but maybe it wouldn't be as bad if she kept her mouth shut. That's what she should have done yesterday. It was too late to unsay everything she regretted saying yesterday—she just hoped it wasn't too late to get her relationship with Pen back on track.

She grimaced and shook her head when she tasted the coffee, but she forced herself to drink two cups. She felt almost human by the time she walked out the door promptly at six o'clock. Although the trip to the hotel should only take twenty minutes, she wasn't taking any chances on being late.

When she arrived at the Fiesta, she wondered if being early was such a wise idea. Her overactive imagination had already wreaked havoc with her self-confidence—she'd be a basket case in ten more minutes. She debated whether to wait in the car or in the lobby. Before she made a decision, Pen stepped up to the car and opened the passenger door.

"The early bird gets the worm. In this case, the early Fern gets the boss's approval," he said as he slid into the seat and placed his briefcase at his feet.

"Good morning," Fern answered with as much vitality as she could muster.

"Have you had breakfast?" he asked.

She looked at him. He looked delicious—she didn't usually eat breakfast, but she'd like to gobble him up. Whoa. Her brain might not be awake yet, but her hormones sure were. Her grip tightened on the steering wheel. Why did her hands want to reach over and touch his face? The freshly shaved smoothness enticed her as much as last night's stubble had, and his subtle scent surrounded her.

"Well, have you?" he asked again in an impatient tone.

Had she what? Oh, yeah ... "I don't eat breakfast."

"Well, I do, and the hotel restaurant doesn't open till six- thirty. How about pulling into a drive-through and picking up a breakfast sandwich?"

Fern wrinkled her nose in distaste. "A fast food breakfast sandwich is not breakfast," she insisted.

"It's the closest thing to breakfast I can get at a fast food place, and we don't have time to stop for real food."

"There's a Taco Cabana just a few blocks from the shop. How about breakfast tacos?"

"Didn't we have tacos last night?"

"Those were crispy tacos. Breakfast tacos are potatoes and eggs or ham and eggs rolled up in soft flour tortillas." She recognized the doubtful expression on his face. "They're not hot, I promise. What about it?"

Pen shook his head. "Couldn't be worse than a breakfast sandwich, I guess. Okay, if you promise to eat with me." There was that cocky grin again. "I'm not sure I trust you to feed me unless you eat the same thing."

Fifteen minutes later, Fern pulled out of the Taco Cabana drive-through. A bag of breakfast tacos sat on the seat between them. The smell of potatoes and eggs mingled with the subtle spicy fragrance that had enveloped her the minute Pen got in the car.

Pen inhaled deeply. "Smells good," he said. The food did smell good, but Fern smelled better. She exuded a scent of flowers and sunshine, an aroma much too fresh and wholesome to have such a strong effect on him.

When they arrived at the office, Pen carried the food bag in one hand and his briefcase in the other. Fern unlocked the front door and deactivated the alarm system.

She reached for the bag. "I'll start the coffee while you put down your briefcase."

Without waiting for an answer, she walked down the hall to the small lunchroom. She measured coffee into the basket, and while it perked, she took paper plates and napkins from the cabinet.

She didn't need to hear his footsteps to know the instant Pen entered the room. She didn't remember ever being so intensely aware of a man.

"The coffee will be ready in a minute." She held several tiny plastic cups of thick red sauce. "This is a warning. Do not put this hot sauce on your tacos. It will make you wonder why you thought jalapenos were hot. This stuff is _hot_." She waved her hand for emphasis.

Pen laughed—the deep rumble that tickled her nerve endings and reverberated throughout her body. "You'd better put it down. If you, the master of understatement, say it's hot, I expect to see your hands burst into flames any minute."

He thought Fern's laugh, high pitched and tinkling, was the perfect complement to his own. He smiled when she became playful. She hurried to the garbage can and dramatically threw in the hot sauce containers.

"Just in time," she said. "I'm saved. See, no flames." She waved her hands in front of his face.

He couldn't resist the temptation to reach out and take her hands in his. "No flames, but maybe I'd better check for burns."

CHAPTER FOUR

He held her hands, palms up, in his and made a production of examining them. No burns on her hands, but would he be the one to be burned? He'd been surprised when she joined in the silly game. Now he realized how much more dangerous the situation had become. He could probably control his lust, but how could he resist a woman who shared his ridiculous sense of humor?

But resist her he would. No way would he put himself in a position to be accused of sexual harassment. He'd seen a good branch manager destroyed by such a charge. The male manager admitted to an affair with a female technician, but he claimed it was by mutual consent. When the relationship ended, the technician had claimed sexual harassment, saying she had engaged in the affair only because she feared for her job if she refused. Whether or not she had ever been willing, the company had fired the male manager and reached a cash settlement with the female employee. Ultimate was in an expansion mode, and the company wouldn't risk the adverse publicity a court case would bring.

How long had he been holding her hands while he was telling himself to resist her? He had to end this here and now. He dropped her hands and asked, "Is that coffee ready yet?"

She nodded and walked to the counter. She took two cups from the mug tree, filled them, and handed one to Pen. "Creamer and sugar are on the table."

They sat on opposite sides of the table. Fern took the foil wrapped tacos from the bag and peeked into them one by one. She placed two on her plate and four on Pen's plate and announced, "You have two potato and egg and two ham and egg. You'll be glad to know I didn't get any chorizo—that's a spicy Mexican sausage."

"Good." He felt relief there would be no spicy food or conversation this morning. It was time to get down to work. "Will the technicians be coming into the office this morning?"

"Yeah. On Wednesdays, everyone reports to the office. The technical staff attends class for an hour or so first. I was planning to teach a class on customer service."

"The corporate development guys told me about your training program." He wadded up the foil wrapper from the first taco and opened the second. "I'm eager to see you in action. In fact, your training was a strong pro in the list of the pros and cons for the acquisition of Fern's Fancies."

He looked at Fern's face and realized he shouldn't have mentioned _the list_ , as it was called in the corporate office. The corporate development staff created a list of advantages and disadvantages for every potential acquisition. Such a balanced evaluation made good business sense, but he could tell from Fern's eyes that she didn't agree. Flashes of green among the hazel reflected indignation, or was it hurt?

"Okay, now you've told me something positive. Isn't it good management to cushion constructive criticism by starting with a compliment? So what were the cons?" She looked away from him and unwrapped another taco.

"Remember, I wasn't in the Southwest region then. And I didn't mean to start a conversation about pros and cons. You mentioned the classes, and I just thought you might like to know the Ultimate corporate office was impressed. Those guys aren't easily impressed. After all, we have thirty-one branches now." He laid his taco on the foil and looked straight into her eyes. "You should be proud your training program impressed them."

He had seemed so critical yesterday. Or was she too sensitive? After all, this business wasn't just a job. It was her baby. She had devoted ten years of her life to it, and it was the symbol of her independence. Accepting the supervision of a regional manager was harder than she would have thought had she thought about it at all. He was holding out an olive branch and she had to take it.

She smiled. "Yeah, you're darn right I'm proud. Not just of the training program either. I'm proud of everything about Fern's Fancies."

Pen raised his eyebrows but didn't respond to her comment. Instead he asked, "Does everyone report at eight o'clock?"

"Everybody starts at eight. People will start coming in any time now. Hannah is usually here shortly after seven and always makes the coffee." She chuckled. "Everybody hates her coffee—it's just colored water—but nobody hates it enough to get here early enough to make it themselves."

He looked at his wristwatch and said, "It's a few minutes after seven now. I want to be in the front office when everybody comes in."

"Okay, I'm done," she answered.

He gathered up his wrappings and stuffed the trash into the empty bag. He held the bag out for Fern to add her trash. After he threw it in the garbage can, he poured himself another cup of coffee. "This coffee's perfect, by the way. You either need to make it every morning or tell Hannah your secret."

He didn't wait for an answer but left her refilling her own coffee cup. She followed him down the hall to the office that had been hers alone for years, the office she now had to share with Pen.

Thank goodness it was temporary. She wasn't sure she'd ever be able to do much work around him. His body seemed to be a magnet and hers iron filings.

He strode into the office and sat at her desk. Something didn't seem right, but it took a few seconds for her to realize he'd already moved the desk and small file. He had brought in an extra chair from the conference room.

He patted the end of the desk in front of the extra chair, "You can sit here for now. We'll get another desk today, but neither of us will be in here much today so it won't matter."

Fern didn't sit. If neither of them were going to be in here much, why didn't he sit at the end of the desk in the odd chair? Why was he confiscating her desk and her chair? Some kind of executive power play no doubt. After all, she was a peon now. Besides, he probably couldn't function under tough conditions. If he thought the lack of a desk was going to crush her, he had another think coming. He'd have to come up with something worse than that.

He was looking at her as if he were trying to figure out what was going on in her mind. She hoped he wouldn't notice she was biting her lower lip again. He was looking at her so intently he couldn't miss it, but maybe he wouldn't guess it meant she was biting back her words.

He knew exactly what she was doing. She looked gorgeous, even if she had already eaten off all her lipstick. He felt a stirring in his body when he looked at her. Today her hair was loose—coal black masses of riotous curls. He wondered how she had managed to tame it all into that little knot yesterday.

She wasn't wearing her company uniform today. She had on some kind of pants that looked like a skirt and a tailored blouse that was a swirl of pastel colors. On another woman, it might look businesslike. On her, it just looked alluring. But he was beginning to believe that she'd look alluring no matter what she was wearing.

What was he thinking? Employees were going to start coming through that door any second now, and he had to be the ultimate professional manager. He'd never let a woman distract him before. No matter how serious a relationship might become, it never interfered with his job. He'd never had a fantasy about a woman that took his mind away from business. Why now? Why this woman?

He willed his mind to return to business and his body to return to normal and said, "Tell me about the technicians—name, time in the job, and an analysis of strengths and weaknesses." He pulled a pen from his pocket and reached for the tablet on the desk.

"Susan is the maintenance supervisor. She started as a tech eight years ago, and she's been a supervisor for about five years." Fern continued naming and describing the eight technicians who maintained plants in client businesses.

Pen made notes, but he didn't comment except to ask an occasional question. Fern felt more at ease—he was finally asking for significant information with no apparent criticism.

Her composure shattered, however, when he reached into his briefcase and took out a file. He opened it and laid it beside his notes. He seemed to check what she said against what he had in the file. He didn't ask her those questions to learn something—he asked them to check up on her. He didn't trust her.

How had she thought she could get back on track with Mr. Bigshot Executive? The only track they'd ever be on was the rut they were in—she would spend the next two weeks biting off everything she wanted to say. _Please,_ she begged silently _, let me keep my mouth shut. If I say what I'm thinking, I'll lose my job, and then what would I do?_

Fern was relieved to hear the front door open and Hannah call out. The bookkeeper stepped into Fern's office and said, "I was surprised to see your car here so early. Oh, good morning, Mr.—"

"Pen, remember? How's it going today?"

"Fine, Mr. . . . I mean, Pen. I'd better get the coffee made." Hannah started to back out of the door.

Pen held up his coffee cup and said, "I was too impatient to wait."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I can get here earlier tomorrow."

Fern saw Pen give her a conspiratorial wink before answering. "No need. Believe it or not, Fern makes a fine cup of coffee. If we're here before you, she'll take care of it."

Of course she would. What was wrong with him? If he wanted coffee, he could make it himself. Okay, so she'd offered to make it today. That didn't mean she was volunteering for a permanent job. She put so much energy into containing her anger that she didn't even realize Hannah had left the room. Well, she'd been standing here like a tree long enough—time to do something constructive.

"May I get into the file drawer of the desk? I need to get my class materials, and then I'll get out of your way. You can have the office to yourself while I'm teaching class."

Pen rolled the chair away from the desk so she could open the drawer. He said, "I'm going to class with you. I want to meet everyone as much as I want to watch you in action."

He was watching her in action right now. She bent over to reach in the drawer and presented a tantalizing view. She straightened up all too soon.

He didn't mean to say anything, but suddenly he heard words coming out of his own mouth. "What's that you're wearing? Is it a skirt or pants?"

He saw Fern's mouth open in an O. She couldn't be any more surprised than he was. He had no business talking about a woman's clothes. He'd only been around this woman a few hours, and already he'd made more big goofs than he usually did in a month.

"It's a split skirt, if—"

"If it's any of my business, which it isn't," Pen interrupted. "Sorry, I was just curious." Curious was one way of putting it. His body could probably think of a few other words that described just how that split skirt made him feel, but maybe she'd buy curious.

"I'm going to the conference room to set up for the class. We start at eight," she said as she sashayed out.

He closed the door after she left. He didn't want to socialize with the employees before he had met them all on the job. Tomorrow, he'd sit in the lunchroom and chat over coffee. By that time, he'd have met everyone.

He reviewed the corporate employee report and his notes from his conversation with Fern. The corporate report contained the bare facts, but Fern's description gave him a much better image of each person. He could say something appropriate to each person when he was introduced. Years of experience had taught him that every employee must feel valued and important if the transition from a small single owner business to a branch of a huge conglomerate were to succeed. Fern's Fancies would become a stellar branch of Ultimate—his career depended on it.

Shortly before class time, he stepped into the reception area and spoke to the receptionist. "Morning, Maria. Fern went ahead to set up for class. Can you show me where the conference room is?"

Maria returned his smile and directed him down the hall to an open door opposite the clerical office. "I guess I could have found it myself," he said with a chuckle. "Just follow the noise."

The noise stopped as, one by one, the employees looked at him standing in the door. Fern jumped up from her chair at the head of the table, and stepped toward him. "Everybody, this is Pendleton Morgenthal, the new regional manager."

He told them to call him Pen. Then he said a few words, expressing that he was glad to be in San Antonio and looking forward to getting to know each one. Fern introduced each person at the table. He made a suitable comment as each employee was identified.

"Susan, it's great to have a supervisor who's been with the company eight years. You're the most experienced supervisor in the Southwest Region." He noticed Fern shaking her head and winked at Susan. "Of course, you're also the only supervisor since this is the first branch in the region."

He grinned at Susan and she smiled. Then he added more seriously, "But you're one of the most experienced supervisors in the company. We're pleased to have your experience on board with us."

The positive comments he made to all employees surprised Fern. That he gave her credit for many of the compliments amazed her.

"Fern tells me you've had perfect attendance all year. That's super," he told one tech. "According to Fern, you're a whiz at pruning," he said to another. "That was a great idea you had ..."

All the workers received pats on the back, and Fern recognized how pleased and proud they were. They could have easily been intimidated by such a powerful executive. She knew they must feel as vulnerable as she did. Would they keep their jobs? Would the new company make changes they couldn't handle?

After the introductions, Pen turned to Fern and asked, "Is it okay if I take about ten minutes of class time to bring everyone up to date on the company?" When she nodded, he asked, "Can the office staff join us?"

"Sure." She stepped to the phone, pushed the intercom button, and asked the office staff to report to the conference room. "I'll sit here so I can answer the phone or the door if needed," Fern said.

After everyone had arrived, Pen stood at the head of the table. "Welcome to Ultimate Plant Service," he said. "I know Fern's has been a member of the Ultimate family for several weeks, but this is my first chance to welcome you. I've just been appointed Southwest Regional Manager. There's been no Regional Manager because this is the first branch in the region. However, we'll have several others within the next two months."

He went on to relate, as he had told her yesterday, his experience as a Regional Manager for the Northeast Region. "You'll see some changes around here in the coming months. The first thing you'll notice is that we'll be phasing out the name, Fern's Fancies. Everything will be under the corporate name."

Hannah raised her hand, surprising Fern who knew how shy the older woman was. Pen acknowledged her, and she asked, "You mean I'll have to change invoices and everything? Why?"

"Good question, Hannah. There are lots of advantages for a national company, but two are most important. First, we have national contracts with other national companies. Hyatt Hotel, for instance, expects Ultimate to be their plantscape company, whether they're in Washington, D.C., Los Angeles, New York, or San Antonio. It would be too confusing for a master contract to include Exotic Foliage in New York, Fern's Fancies in San Antonio, and so on."

Fern felt some of her anger slide out of her body. It made perfect sense when he explained it like that. Why had he been so sarcastic about it yesterday? Naturally, she was sensitive about the name. It was _her_ name, and losing that identity really brought home the fact that the business wasn't hers anymore.

Pen was still talking. "The second reason is the same thing on the vendor side. We get better deals on plants, materials, and supplies by buying in volume for all the branches. Again, the suppliers want everything bought in the name of Ultimate to go to a location with the Ultimate name."

She noticed he looked around the room and made eye contact with several people before continuing.

"We'll have a new sign installed today, and paperwork and forms will be here in the next few days. Fern and I will visit the major clients to explain what's happening, but you may have to answer questions from smaller clients. It shouldn't come as a surprise because they were all notified of the merger when it happened."

She was grateful he used the word merger instead of buy-out or purchase. It wasn't really a merger, of course—she had no ownership or management rights anymore. But merger probably sounded better to her employees. At least they didn't know that this was the first she'd heard that she and Pen would visit major clients. Hadn't he told her it was her responsibility to notify the clients?

"I'll be inspecting this branch for the next couple of weeks. Don't look so worried. Inspecting is a poor choice of words."

_Sure it is_ , Fern muttered under her breath. She quickly glanced up to see he hadn't noticed.

He stepped up to the marker board and started writing with a bright red marker. "Observing is a better word. I'm here to learn how you do things. We may make some changes. Remember, although Ultimate Plant Service has only been around a few years, we're a division of Ultimate Services International. Some of our divisions, Ultimate Pest Control and Ultimate Delivery Service, are forty or fifty years old."

He made a list on the board of the various divisions of the conglomerate. Fern saw that her employees were as impressed as she had been when the corporate staff had first shown her the list of Ultimate companies.

"Some of the plant service companies that were acquired by Ultimate have been in business for as long as eighteen years. Sometimes we make changes based on the experience available at the corporate level. And of course, to operate most efficiently, there needs to be a certain amount of standardization in how the branches operate. So that may lead to a few changes."

Omigosh. Her ten years of experience couldn't compare with all that, especially since she had been a one-person operation for nearly two years. What changes would they make? Would they destroy the notion of personal service that was such a source of pride for her?

"On the other hand, Ultimate acquired Fern's Fancies because we recognize it as the premier plantscape company in the San Antonio area."

Fern's head popped up in surprise. She hadn't expected such a sweeping compliment. The man never said or did what she expected.

Pen continued, "Corporate development carefully researches the market before they go into an area. They only approach the top company in the market. Nothing second best in this company. So, corporate can learn from you. That's the other reason I'm here—to learn from your experience."

Fern could tell he had the employees in the palm of his hand. They were looking for reassurance that their jobs were secure. Not only had he given them that, but he'd even said he could learn from them.

Her mind wandered as he explained the additional benefits the employees would enjoy. Getting these benefits for her staff was a key reason for her decision to sell the business. She could never offer the insurance, vacation, and other benefits a giant company could. Just thinking of the advantages to her employees reminded her why she had sold out.

After answering a few more questions, Pen sent the office staff back to work and turned the class over to Fern.

She announced the topic for today was dealing with difficult customers and asked for volunteers to role-play. "For each example, we need one difficult customer and one tech. Who wants to go first?"

"I'll be the difficult customer," Pen volunteered. With a cocky grin, he said, "I'm an easy guy to get along with, but somehow I've got a reputation for being difficult with certain people. Why don't we just go around the room so everybody gets a chance to deal with me?" He sat in one of the two chairs she had placed in front of the room.

Although Fern worried that Pen would be too difficult—he certainly had been with her—he made a perfect difficult customer. In one vignette, he complained that "all his plants were dying" because there were a few yellow leaves on a plant in reception. He acted irate, but he did respond when the tech explained that a few yellow leaves were normal and promised to give that plant some extra vitamins and hormones to help overcome its stress.

With another tech, he griped because she was late. The tech with the least experience tried to handle the situation, and she was so nervous she stuttered and stammered. Instead of criticizing, as Fern feared, he said, "Why don't we reverse roles? You complain to me, and I'll respond."

The tech was so flustered she sounded furious. Pen handled the situation with charm and grace. The complainer and the observers were all smiling when he finished.

"Her reaction seemed all out of proportion to my being a few minutes late, didn't it?" He waited for nods and affirmative answers. "But we all know people do react this way sometimes. First, take a deep breath and remind yourself that she's probably mad at her husband and you're just the first person she can vent her feelings on. Instead of getting upset because she's treating you unfairly, challenge yourself to see if you can make her smile. Not only will you deal with whatever she's complaining about, but you'll make life better for everybody who has to work around her the rest of the day."

Although he was looking around the table, Fern had the distinct feeling he was talking to her. She stood and faced the group. "Pen just gave us a good example, a wonderful lesson. Just remember it's not always a she—a he can be just as difficult."

Pen laughed. "Probably worse. Now, who's next?"

The rest of the class passed quickly. Fern knew it was one of the best classes they'd ever had, and she didn't like it one bit. He said he was there to learn, but he was taking over.

At the end of class, she issued assignments for the day. On Wednesday, most techs didn't have plant maintenance scheduled. They worked in the warehouse, helped with installations, or did special projects on their accounts.

Pen didn't say anything while she assigning duties, but after she finished, he asked, "Why did you send Cindy with Toby to make those replacements? It seems to me one person could handle it."

She silently counted to ten before she answered. "Yes, one person could handle most of the work orders. But they have to climb a fourteen-foot ladder at The Gardens Grill. I normally send two people—it's easier and safer. Besides, Cindy needs more training on insect treatment, and she'll get good experience spraying all those hanging baskets for mealybugs."

"What chemicals are they using for mealies?"

She explained the chemical treatment. "There was an article in _Interiorscape Magazine_ last month that recommended this program. So far, it seems to be effective."

He rose and walked toward the door, saying over his shoulder, "It's effective, but Ultimate's policy is to use organic controls whenever possible. We need to visit City Center. I understand there's a severe mealybug infestation in the atrium. We're going to start using organic controls."

She hurried to catch up with him—again. When she reached the office, he was already sitting at the desk. He looked up and asked, "What's your schedule for today?"

"If you'll slide my appointment book over here, I'll tell you. It's right in the center of the desk."

He slid the book to the end of the desk. "I have an appointment to give a proposal to a law office downtown at one o'clock. Otherwise, I kept the day open for you." She didn't feel guilty about the little white lie. The only reason she hadn't scheduled to be available was because she hadn't read her e-mail in time to know he was going to be there.

"Okay, let's order furniture and go over the books this morning. I'll go with you to your appointment and we can look at the City Center atrium on the way back."

"Shouldn't we just rent a desk? Surely, there's no need to buy a desk for you to use only a couple of weeks."

"Didn't I tell you?" He rolled his pen between his fingers. "I have to report to corporate for a few weeks after this visit. Then I'll be moving in. The regional office is going to be right here at the San Antonio branch."

CHAPTER FIVE

As soon as he made his announcement, Pen felt guilty. He hadn't meant to blurt it out like that. He'd planned to give her some time to get used to having him around before he told her he'd be there permanently. His guilt deepened when he saw the shocked look on Fern's face.

"You're going to have an office here?"

"Yeah, well, this is the logical place, isn't it? It's our first branch in the region, and it's fairly centrally located." He glanced around the small room. "Of course, I don't intend for us to share the office long term, but ..." He looked up to see Maria at the door.

"Sorry to interrupt." She stepped toward Fern and handed her a stack of small pink slips of paper. "You didn't pick up your phone messages when you came through the office, and Mr. Anderson said he needed to talk to you right away."

"Darn. I was supposed to call him back yesterday, and ... I'll call him right now."

She sat at the end of the desk and Pen slid the phone closer. She read the number from the message slip and dialed.

"Sorry I didn't get back to you yesterday, Stan. Things got hectic around here."

Pen strained, but he couldn't hear the man's voice.

"I'm flattered by your invitation. I'll do it—I just hope I don't disappoint you."

She hadn't told him it was a personal call. What invitation? This wasn't the same guy she'd called yesterday. How many men did she have on the string anyway?

When he saw Fern stretching to reach her appointment book, he handed it to her. She opened it and said, "Next Thursday, August twenty-second at eight o'clock. Downtown Sheraton Hotel. Okay, I'll see you then."

He clenched his fists in his pockets and told himself to keep his mouth shut. Her love life wasn't any of his business, after all. As long as she did her job ...

"Isn't that going to be a long wait? That's over a week away." He clamped his mouth shut. Too late, the horse was already out of the barn, or rather, the words were already out of his mouth.

Her brows knitted together. "Huh?"

He recognized the exact moment she understood the implication. Sparks flashed from those incredible green eyes. She stood with her hands on her hips.

"Do you have a dirty mind or what? I'll have you know I've been asked by the Chamber of Commerce to give the keynote speech at a seminar for new business owners. It's an honor, and you, you, you, you ..."

He felt his stomach sinking with guilt when he saw the defiance in her eyes change to despair. Without thinking, he stepped closer to her and grasped her upper arms. "I'm sorry, Fern. That was a crummy thing to say."

"Yes, it was. I don't know where you get your ideas about women, but ... " She lost her concentration as she felt a warm tingle where he was holding his arms. He was barely touching her, but her body reacted as if they were locked in a heated embrace.

Suddenly Pen dropped her arms and stepped back. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't usually, well ..." He stepped over to the small window and looked outside. "I'm not sexist. I have great respect for women. Most of the employees I supervise are female, and I've never had any problems with any of them."

He turned back toward the desk and reached for the briefcase with his computer. He motioned for her to sit and punched the intercom button for Maria.

After he asked the receptionist to gather information about desks, he turned to Fern. "Are you ready to give me an overview of maintenance operations?"

They spent the rest of the morning reviewing the company's operations. Fern silently thanked whatever gods had worked their magic on Pen. He was pure business all morning, asking questions and making comments that revealed he knew more about day-to-day maintenance operations than she had expected.

As he closed the large book of computer printouts, Maria knocked on the door and stepped inside. "Here's the info on the desks that can be delivered today." Pen rose from his chair and reached across the desk to take the papers she held out to him.

After he flipped through the pages, he put most of them on the desk and handed one sheet to Fern. "Good, we can get a desk to match this one." He turned to Maria. "Order the desk and chair and try to have them delivered this afternoon."

Picking up his briefcase, Pen asked Fern, "Shall we go? If we have a one o'clock appointment, we'd better get underway so we have time for lunch."

Was she destined to eat every meal with this man? She didn't remember anything like that in her job description. Of course, it probably came under that catchall phrase at the end: _other duties as required._

She took her purse from the desk drawer and followed Pen to the car. As they buckled their seatbelts, Pen turned to her and said, "I don't remember seeing anything about a company car in the books. Who owns this car?"

"It's mine. The only the vehicles the company owns are the truck and the van. I use my own car and get paid mileage, just like the techs." She started the car and drove out of the parking lot.

"The company usually provides company cars for branch managers, but we'll keep things the way they are for now. I'll need a car when I move down here."

"Do you have a company car now?"

"Yeah, but it's several years old—not worth moving. A new regional manager should have a new car, don't you think?"

Oh, sure, he gets a new car, but not me. Does this mean I won't be around long enough to need a car? Or does it just mean that Mr. Regional Manager is so much more important than a branch manager that his needs come first? When she realized how tightly she was gripping the steering wheel, she forced herself to relax.

"Where do you want to eat?" she asked.

"Doesn't matter. Let's just grab a burger and fries at the most convenient place between here and the appointment."

"How about Mama's? You can order a burger if that's what you want, but they also have other food. Like meals with real veggies and salads."

Pen made a face. "Not health food, I hope."

"No, just some healthy food. Believe me, they have plenty that isn't healthy too."

"And of course, they're a client of Fern's Fancies," he said.

She was surprised—both that he knew the restaurant was a client and that he said Fern's Fancies instead of Ultimate. "Of course. And the quality of their food is equal to the quality of their plant service."

Pen chuckled. "In that case, it must be fabulous."

Even though she knew he was just going along with her joke, Fern felt a warm glow inside at Pen's flattering words. "It is fabulous," she agreed.

The food and service at the restaurant were excellent, but in Fern's opinion, they were outshone by the conversation. This was the first time she and Pen had carried on a normal conversation without tension arcing between them.

Oh, she still felt that magnetic pull. Her senses were alert to every nuance of his appearance, every move he made. Just watching him chew his food made her mouth water. Hearing him laugh at a silly joke tickled every nerve ending in her body. And looking into those chocolate eyes made her knees turn to pudding.

There was tension all right, but no anger, no hostility. He treated her as an equal. She didn't know what had changed his behavior, but she hoped it lasted.

Pen shook his head as he realized they were actually chatting casually as he would with any business associate. From the moment he'd first seen her, actually from the moment he'd heard that seductive voice on the telephone in Chicago, he'd been too aware of her as a woman to see anything else. She was a woman all right, maybe the most appealing woman he'd ever met. The fact she seemed totally unaware of her charms made her even more desirable.

But this morning he'd seen another side to Fern. He'd seen the savvy businesswoman. She had a great relationship with her employees. Mutual respect and genuine caring were apparent. He'd been amazed at her knowledge of the business. In his experience, most interior landscapers had started in the business because they liked plants and were good at caring for them. They concentrated their attention on what they liked—the horticultural part of the business—and often the business suffered. Fern had achieved a balance—she was more knowledgeable in both areas than he'd expected.

That's what happens when you judge a book by its cover, old man, he told himself. But what a cover!

He had relayed several amusing incidents that had happened to him in his travels as a regional manager. She had shared some of the funny things that had happened in her business through the years.

"One time a tech went into a client's office with her bucket of water. The secretary asked what she had in the water. When the tech said it was just plain water, the secretary said, 'You'd better put something in there to make the yellow leaves turn green again. There's some yellow leaves on this plant.'"

He laughed heartily. "You mean she didn't realize we just take off the yellow leaves? She actually thought we brought dead leaves back to life?"

The more they thought about it, the funnier it became. Both of them were doubled over with laughter when the waiter came with the check. Pen didn't even stop laughing as he handed the man his credit card.

Oh, no. Now she was really in trouble. She might be able to resist Pen's great looks, his incredible body, his masculinity, his smell, his eyes, his lopsided grin, his ...

Well, maybe not, but she had a better chance of resisting all that than she did of resisting his humor. She couldn't think of another man who would get so caught up in a silly story that he would laugh as long and hard as she did.

Their laughter gradually subsided. After Pen signed the credit card slip, they left the restaurant quieter than they had been during the meal.

On their drive downtown, they discussed the upcoming appointment. Fern explained her normal proposal process. "Today, I'll try to find out as much as possible about the look he wants, the plants and containers he likes and doesn't like, and the budget. After I work up the design and prices, I'll bring a written proposal back to him in a few days."

"Do you ever fax proposals?" he asked.

"If it's an existing client who wants to add plants, I'll fax the quote because there's no selling involved. But if it's a new prospect, like this attorney today, I always try to present the proposal in person. I've got a much better shot at the sale when I can adjust my presentation to his reactions and focus in on what he wants."

"Good strategy. The fax is great for transmitting information, but, you're right, it's not a salesman. There's no substitute for that personal contact."

Now he was praising her work. She was lost. She surely couldn't resist the most attractive man she'd ever met when he had a sense of humor she loved and he even respected her work. But he was her boss. He's probably wasn't interested in her anyway, but his position as her boss put him totally out of the picture for romance.

Fern was glad to reach downtown. She parked in a garage, and they took the elevator to the client's office. When she introduced herself and Pen, he said, "I'm just learning the operations of this branch, since it's new to our company. Do you mind if I tag along?"

The client didn't mind, and Fern knew it didn't matter if she minded. At first, she was aware of Pen's presence. Soon, however, she was so engrossed in her presentation that she almost forgot he was there. Her attention was totally focused on the client and how she could improve his office.

When she had the information she needed, the client walked them to the door. "I called you because the interior decorator said I needed plants as well as furniture and artwork. I didn't know plants would actually help clean the air in the office."

"Most people don't." She smiled. "That's why I'm excited about putting plants in your office. They'll improve the air quality as well as improve the appearance."

After they left the attorney's office, Fern drove them to another office building. She explained as she drove. "We took over the plant maintenance at City Center from one of our competitors several months ago. The mealybugs were so bad you could actually see white masses fifteen feet up in the ficus trees."

"How were they treating the problem?"

"They weren't. The client won't allow anyone to work in the lobby during business hours because of the heavy traffic. So they tried one time to spray at night, but there's not enough light in the atrium. They just gave up."

"Never heard of weekends, huh?"

"Guess not. Anyway, we've made several Saturday trips to wash and spray the trees. Even though there's been some improvement, we still have a serious problem."

Soon they were at the building and entering the lobby. Pen sauntered across the lobby to the atrium area. He looked up into the five ficus trees and down at the low under planting beneath the trees. "You're right. It's a serious problem, but I think we can bring it under control with beneficial insects. Do we need to talk to the contact person?"

Fern took Pen up to the fifth floor and led him into the management office. She greeted the receptionist, introduced Pen, and asked to see the property manager.

When the property manager stepped out to meet them, Fern saw her eyes widen in appreciation at the sight of Pen. The woman positively ogled him. Hadn't she ever seen an attractive man before? Besides, doesn't she know how to act toward a business associate? Pen is the vendor, for heaven's sake, not the merchandise. Fern had always liked and respected this woman. Now she wondered why. Anyone who couldn't control her hormones any better than that ...

Omigosh. Had she been acting this way? She hid her attraction to Pen better than that, didn't she? Her face flamed red as she imagined other people watching her ogle Pen the way this client was doing.

Pen didn't seem to notice. He shook hands with the property manager and said, "A pleasure to meet you."

They followed the client into her office. Fern explained they wanted to discuss using biological insect control. The client admitted she had no idea what they were talking about. Pen explained that predator insects ate other insects.

"We'll release beneficial insects—I call 'em 'the good guys' into the atrium at regular intervals. They eat the insects that damage the plants—the ones I call 'the bad guys'—but they don't harm plants. Or people or anything else for that matter."

"Will they be noticeable?"

A lopsided grin appeared on his face before his answer. "You'll hardly know they're there. The ones we'll use here are visible to the naked eye at certain stages of development, but they're so small few people will notice them. Some beneficial insects are larger, but most people think ladybugs are cute. They're beneficial insects."

The client smiled and asked a few more questions. Pen explained the insects had to be released at regular intervals to maintain an adequate supply to consume the harmful insects.

"If we don't keep enough of the good guys supplied all the time, the bad guys multiply—very fast, I might add—and the problem is out of control again. But as long as we release enough new beneficial insects to replace the ones that die, we'll keep the problem under control."

The property manager agreed to the plan. "When do you want to do this?" she asked.

"As soon as the insects arrive in a week or two," he answered.

"Do you need the hydraulic lift?" the client asked.

"Yes; we have to reach into the tops of the trees. Fern will call you to schedule. Okay?"

Sure, Fern will call to schedule. Will Fern have anything to do with this project? Will Fern get a chance to learn about biological controls, something she'd wanted to study? Will Fern get to do anything but call to schedule?

She had been surprised at Pen's technical knowledge. She remembered her thought that he'd probably never watered a plant in his life. She was glad she'd been wrong about his experience, but she wondered if she'd have the opportunity to learn from his experience.

CHAPTER SIX

When they returned to the office, Maria handed Fern several message slips and spoke to Pen. "The new desk is here, and I stocked it with some basics—pens, pencils, a stapler, tape, that kind of thing. Let me know what else you need."

"Thanks, Maria." He walked into the inner office to examine the desk and the supplies stacked on it. "Looks fine. I can't think of anything else right now."

Fern stepped into the room and sat at her desk. She reached for the phone to return calls. Was Pen going to listen to every phone conversation she had? Listening was bad enough, but it was worse that he'd make some insulting comment.

She'd solve that problem—she'd use the phone in the conference room. She flipped through the messages. She needed her appointment book for one call, a file from the credenza for another, notes from her desk for another .

Okay, she'd just stay here and make the calls. Who cared what the high and mighty Mr. Morgenthal thought? Only someone who cared about her job, that's who. She took a deep breath, assembled the records she needed, and reached for the phone.

Pen opened desk drawers and put away the items Maria had gathered for him, everything from phone books to pencils to scissors. Without conscious thought, he organized his desk exactly like the one at the corporate office. Phone books in the top drawer on the left, tablets and notepads in the middle drawer, scissors and pencils in the lap drawer.

He glanced at Fern's desk and noticed she kept the surface as clear as he did. She was as methodical in preparing to return phone calls as he was. She read each slip and then put them in order, apparently by either time of call or importance. Then she pulled files from the drawer and notes from a tray on the desk and clipped a message to each one. Only after everything was organized did she make the first call.

He listened to her side of the conversations as he continued to arrange his desk. He hadn't expected her to be so systematic in her work habits. The image of the professional manager just didn't fit with that alluring body and seductive voice more suited ...

What was wrong with him? He hadn't reacted like this to any woman since puberty. Maybe he'd avoided dating too long. His social life had been less important than his fast track in the corporate world for the last few years.

But why just this woman? He worked with lots of gorgeous women. If he was just waking up to women again, why didn't he have the same reaction to any of them? If his dumb body had to react to only one female, why this one? He could find plenty of women who didn't work for him.

He slammed the drawer closed and frowned at Fern's back. She was still on the phone. He had to get away from her tantalizing voice if he expected to get any work done.

He stood and crossed to the door. Speaking so that both Fern and Maria could hear him, he said, "I'll be in the warehouse."

A few minutes later, Maria announced over the intercom that the sign had finally arrived. Both Fern and Pen went outside to watch the installation. The old sign came down first.

Pen felt a tightness in his chest when he saw tears in Fern's eyes. He hadn't realized how traumatic this would be for her. He'd gone through the same process with dozens of other business owners. Had they been less bothered by the name change or was he simply more aware of Fern's reactions?

His company had been one of the first Ultimate bought when they entered the plantscape business. He'd never thought about the name change, but then he'd only been in business a couple of years and had no intention of making it permanent.

"You want us to haul this old sign to the dump?" one of the installers asked.

Seeing the stricken look on Fern's face, Pen said, "No, we'd like to keep it. In fact, can I pay you guys something extra to hang it on the wall inside the building?"

The men agreed. Pen led them into the warehouse and pointed to a blank wall. He pretended to watch the sign being hung, but he was actually observing Fern. She bit her lower lip and wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. He had to admire her valiant efforts to feign nonchalance.

"Fern's Fancies is a catchy name—much more interesting than my old company's name."

Fern looked at him in surprise. "I didn't know you had a company."

"It wasn't much of a company. Actually it was made up of three people—me, myself, and I." He chuckled. "I put myself through two years of college watering plants. I called myself Plant Care Company. Exciting name, huh?"

"What happened to your company?"

"I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Ultimate moved next door to one of my clients and the whole building was buzzing with talk about them. My client told me he heard a rumor Ultimate was going into the interior landscape business. I went to the office to find out, and the rest, as they say, is history."

"They bought your company?"

"All twenty-seven accounts. They also hired me as the maintenance supervisor." The left side of his mouth curved into a grin. "I thought I was going to sit in an office and boss. Instead, I had to water plants and clean dirty leaves for six months."

Fern's sign soon hung from the wall and the installers took down the ladder. They all traipsed back outside to watch the new sign going up. The tightness in Pen's chest eased when he saw Fern's eyes were dry and those little lines in her forehead were less pronounced.

The employees came out of the building at five o'clock, just as the installers finished the sign. They stood in the parking lot and commented on the change. Pen listened closely for their reactions. The favorable response pleased him.

Fern called out goodbyes to the workers in the parking lot and started back to the building. Did Pen expect her to work late again tonight? Even though he had been surprisingly sensitive about the sign, she needed a break. She had to guard her tongue all the time she was with him.

He came in a few minutes behind her. "What's your schedule for tomorrow? We need to finish last night's discussion."

"I was planning to work on the proposal for that attorney's office in the morning, and I have a luncheon meeting at the Chamber." She put away the papers she had been working on when the sign had arrived. "I should be back between one-thirty and two, and I don't have anything scheduled after that."

"Okay. Let's plan to meet at two-thirty. We'll probably need several hours. Are you ready to go now?" he asked as he picked up his briefcase.

She nodded and picked up her purse. They walked to the car together after Fern set the alarm.

"Thank goodness for air conditioning." He adjusted the vents as they drove to the hotel. "I can't believe it's still so hot at this time of day. I was sweltering just watching those guys install the sign."

"Yeah, they were probably glad to hang the old sign in the warehouse. The working conditions were a lot better out of the hot sun. You wasted your money—they would probably have paid you." Her smile was feeble, and she sobered quickly. "Thank you for keeping the sign."

"No thanks needed." He looked embarrassed. "I don't believe in throwing away anything that's still good."

Business was not mentioned the rest of the trip. Conversation was limited to casual comments about the sights they passed.

As they approached Pen's hotel, Fern asked, "What about tomorrow morning? Same time?"

"Same time. Same place." He looked toward her with that cocky grin on his face. "Same breakfast, too. Okay?"

After she dropped him at the hotel, she decided to stop at the health club. All she wanted to do was soak in the hot tub, but she needed to work out too. She'd stop at the deli to pick up dinner and then spend the evening curled up with a good book.

Kevin. She'd promised him an explanation today, and he'd probably decided to postpone last night's burgers. She wanted to be alone tonight, but she wouldn't hurt Kevin's feelings. He'd been a good friend to her ever since she moved in next door to him. Although he wanted to deepen their relationship, he respected her wishes to keep the friendship casual. Since Fern had no intention of becoming romantically involved with anyone, Kevin had become a convenient habit. He grilled burgers for them on Tuesdays, she cooked a full meal on Saturdays, and they went out on Friday nights.

She called him from the pay phone at the club. As she expected, he insisted she come over. She had promised an explanation, after all, and he needed to cook the meat so it wouldn't spoil. After her exercises and a session in the hot tub, Fern showered, changed into clothes she had in her locker, and drove to the duplex.

She stayed in the back yard with Kevin for several hours. She felt no magnetic pull, no stress, with Kevin. She enjoyed a relaxed chat, but she wondered why she hadn't realized that he didn't have a sense of humor. He didn't even smile at her story about Pen and the jalapeno. Of course, she didn't mention that Pen was hotter than the pepper, but she thought the story was hilarious even without that little tidbit.

"Kev, I've got to go in. It's after ten and I have to get up at five-thirty in the morning."

"Why should you have to chauffeur the boss around?"

"It's just part of the job. I can't pull anybody else off their assigned jobs to do it. Besides, I have to be available to meet with him anyway."

"Well, I think it's disgraceful the way he's treating you. I know how important your independence is to you. Are you going to let this so-called regional manager destroy all you've worked for?"

Fern was surprised to find herself defending Pen to Kevin. Hadn't she been worrying about losing her independence, maybe even her job? Why would she defend him now?

"There's nothing so-called about him. As much as I hate to admit it, he's a good manager. You know all the reasons I decided to sell out. They're all just as valid now as they were when I made the decision."

"I just hope you don't regret it."

"I won't. But thanks for worrying about me. Now I really have to go. Goodnight."

She heard the phone ringing before she reached the back door. She ran to answer it. At this time of night, it must be important.

"Where have you been? I've been calling you for hours." Pen's irritation was as unmistakable as his voice.

She ignored his question. "What do you want, Pen? It's after ten o'clock at night."

"Well, it was only seven o'clock at night when I started calling."

She bit her lip as she replied. "What is so important that it couldn't wait until tomorrow morning?"

"I've decided we need to start a little earlier in the morning. Pick me up at six fifteen. Okay?"

Pen could tell she was angry even though she tried to control it. He knew she had good reason, too. How stupid to spend all night calling her on the phone. They didn't need to leave fifteen minutes earlier. They could probably leave thirty minutes later and still be there with time to spare.

He had to come up with some reason to call her just to hear that voice. He couldn't think of anything except changing the time. Then when she hadn't answered for hours, he knew she was with the boyfriend. Had they gone out? Or had they been too busy to bother with the phone?

He'd never known jealousy before, but he had a sudden urge to sock some guy he didn't even know. And all because he wanted to be the one with Fern, something that was impossible anyway. The woman was driving him crazy. She was already the best branch manager in the company. It just wasn't fair that she was also the sexiest woman he'd ever seen.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The next morning, Fern didn't know why Pen wanted to be at the shop so early. They didn't do anything except eat breakfast tacos and drink coffee until the staff started to arrive.

She was glad Pen let her work on a proposal without interruption. Whatever he was doing, he was totally engrossed in it. She just hoped it wasn't bad news for her future. He wouldn't sit at a desk just a few feet from her and work on plans to get rid of her, would he? Finally, it was time for her to leave for her luncheon. She handed Maria the proposal and asked her to type it.

Fern had looked forward to hearing the speaker at this meeting, but she found her mind wandering to Pen. She'd forgotten he depended on her for transportation, and there was no place to eat within walking distance of the shop.

She told herself to stop this ridiculous train of thought. He was a grown man, perfectly capable of finding a meal. And if he didn't, it wasn't her problem. He was her boss, not her responsibility.

After the meeting adjourned, she found a pay phone and called the shop. She cringed when she heard Maria answer, "Thank you for calling Ultimate Plant Service."

She felt foolish calling to find out if Pen had eaten lunch. "I . . . uh, I just wondered if anyone needed me to bring anything on the way back."

"Nope, everyone's fine here."

Fern mumbled a goodbye, hung up, and walked to her car. After she cleared the congestion of the parking lot, traffic was light and she made good time back to the office. She arrived earlier than she had planned, but Pen was waiting for her in their office.

"Good, you're back. I just got back from lunch myself. Can we go ahead and meet now before either of us starts on something else?"

Fern nodded. "Do you want to meet here or in the conference room?" She wondered where and with whom he went to lunch, but she didn't ask.

"The conference room. We're less apt to be interrupted there, aren't we?"

"Yes." She picked up a notebook and pen. "What else do I need to take with me?"

"Nothing." He led the way to the conference room.

She had dreaded this since Tuesday night in the restaurant, but she wanted to get it over with as much as she wanted to avoid it. Whatever the future held, it would be better to know than to wonder. Surely he'd give her a chance before he fired her.

Pen closed the conference room door behind them and motioned her into a chair. "We started off on the wrong foot." When she opened her mouth to speak, he shook his head. "Let me finish."

She bit her lip and nodded.

"That's forgotten." He grimaced. "Well, maybe not the pepper, but everything else. This is strictly business—there are no personalities involved."

He wanted to believe that. It had always been true before. Why was everything so different with Fern? He still couldn't believe the business with the sign. Normally, he would have told the sign installers to haul the old sign to the dump without even looking at the person who'd owned the business before. Somehow he was attuned to Fern.

Though it was something that had never happened to him before, he could understand the chemistry. Her body called to his with an intensity he'd never experienced. He'd been attracted to plenty of women in the past, but this was more powerful than anything he'd felt before.

Physical attraction alone didn't explain his sensitivity to her feelings, though. Why should he care if she had tears in her eyes over some silly sign? She'd made the decision to sell her business. No one held a gun to her head or made her an offer she couldn't refuse. So if she had regrets, she had nobody to blame but herself.

"I have to ask you some questions about the business." He cleared his throat. "We gather this information on every acquisition. Some of it will seem repetitious—the corporate development guys asked you this before they made an offer. But I need to consolidate all the facts to transform this business from an individual operation, Fern's Fancies, to the San Antonio branch of Ultimate."

"I understand," Fern said. "I'm prepared for changes. It's just ..." She took a deep breath. "Fire away."

Pen found himself taking more time than usual in his questioning. Not only did he watch her reactions carefully, but he mentally reviewed each question or comment before he spoke to consider if Fern might be offended by it. More than that, he enjoyed watching her and listening to her.

Her love for the business was obvious. Her eyes lit up and she made excited motions with her hands as she described business successes. Pen thought she sounded like a proud mother bragging on her precocious child.

He enjoyed even more her accounts of some of the amusing incidents that had occurred through the years.

"You know how a spath plant wilts completely when it's too dry? Well, on Maria's first day on the job, she got a phone call from a client who said, 'My plant fainted!' Poor Maria pictured a plant falling out of its pot in a dead faint."

He smiled at the sound of their mingled laughter, then asked his next question. "What happened here," he pointed to the screen on his laptop computer, "when you obviously were in a cash flow bind?"

She jumped up from the table, knocking her chair over. She clenched her hands into fists and her voice rose. "What happened was that I bought plants, containers, and materials for a job, and then I didn't get paid for six months. I'm not exactly Ultimate mega corporation with zillions of dollars in reserve, you know. If I don't get paid on time, I get behind on my bills."

Pen frowned. "Well, why didn't you take out a short-term loan for operating expenses instead of letting your accounts go past due?"

Fern forced herself to take a deep breath and count to ten. She righted the fallen chair and sat it in. "Obviously you have never been a single woman trying to borrow money for a small business. It just doesn't happen."

"Fern, Fern, Fern. You'd been in business for eight years then and your financials were good. No reason you couldn't have got a short-term loan," Pen said.

"No reason except I'm a woman in a business with a perishable product. The banks wanted better collateral than plants that would die if the borrower wasn't there to take care of them."

Pen looked at her in surprise. She was serious. "You mean you tried to borrow money?"

"Of course I tried to borrow money. You don't think I liked getting "past due-please remit" stamped on my bills, do you? I tried to get a loan, even though I'd been turned down before every time I tried to get financing."

Pen tapped a pencil on the computer screen. "You mean you've never had any financing for the business?"

"That's what I mean. Bankers aren't exactly falling all over themselves to hand out money, you know. Maybe you think I'm irresponsible or careless or who knows what you think, but—"

"I didn't mean to imply you were irresponsible or any of those other things. I simply asked for an explanation of a particular item I noticed in the financial history of the company. We're talking business—don't read anything more into what I say."

Fern took a deep breath. "Okay."

"Is the lack of financing why you usually sell the plants instead of lease them? Corporate policy is to lease whenever possible because a lease is more profitable."

"I know a lease is more profitable. I'm not totally stupid." She shook her head. "But it's only profitable if you can afford to finance it in the beginning. I couldn't afford it. That's one of the main reasons I sold—Ultimate has the financial resources a small company like mine can never have."

Although Pen realized a small company couldn't compete with the fiscal assets of a giant corporation, Fern's financing difficulties came as a surprise to him. He admired her business success even more when he realized the additional obstacles lack of financing created.

"It looks like you managed to overcome the cash flow crunch in a few months even without outside funding. Business took a big upturn right here." He pointed to the computer screen. "What happened?"

"One of our clients expanded into two more locations." Fern described the client's facilities and the plantscape designs she created to enhance them. "Both installations were large jobs and they were done only a couple of weeks apart."

Relieved to see her enthusiastic again, Pen spent more time than he intended on this successful period. He hurried through the rest of the questionnaire. Fortunately everything else was routine and didn't elicit any strong reactions from Fern.

"It's nearly five o'clock. Ready to go home?" he asked.

"Five o'clock already? Yeah, I'm ready." She stood and picked up her unused notebook.

Pen followed her from the conference room, still wondering how he was going to keep his mind on business with her sitting next to him in that office. Of course, he'd be traveling much of the time, but he needed a base of operations. This branch was the logical choice for all the reasons he'd explained to Fern, but he had to figure out a way to create separate work spaces.

Instead of turning right toward the office, Fern turned left toward the warehouse. "Have you seen this file room?" she asked.

"Files aren't exactly high on my priority list," he answered. "I'm more interested in employees and clients."

"I'm not showing you the _files._ " She opened the door and flipped on the light switch. "I'm showing you the _room._ "

He looked around and shrugged his shoulders. "It's just a big room full of metal file cabinets."

"A big room. About the right size for an office, would you say? Full of metal file cabinets that could just as easily be stored in the warehouse, maybe?"

Fern knew the minute he realized what she was suggesting. That cocky grin lit up his face, and he started to pace off the size of the room. "Looks like it's the same size as your office. It has good fluorescent light. Need to get a phone and a computer terminal, but otherwise it's perfect. Great idea, Fern."

She basked in his unexpected praise. He must not realize how much she dreaded them sharing an office, or he probably would have insisted on keeping the present arrangement. "Which office do you want? This one will give you more privacy but my old office will put you closer to Maria and the fax and copy machines."

"This is perfect. Will Lee and Toby have time to help me move this stuff tomorrow?"

_He's in a big hurry to do this. Can he be as eager to get away from me as I am to get away from him?_ "I need to double-check the schedule, but I'm pretty sure they can. Let me get the schedule now."

Pen didn't even acknowledge her comment. He walked around the room, muttering under his breath, and periodically stopping as if to visualize a mental furniture arrangement. He was still absorbed in his task when Fern returned.

"They only have one work order that's been promised tomorrow, and they should finish that by midmorning. The rest of the work orders are routine and can be rescheduled for next week."

His answer was so slow in coming that she thought he was ignoring her. Finally he turned and started toward the door. "Great. This is perfect. By the end of the day tomorrow, we'll have this room turned into the new regional office."

Pen seemed lost in thought as they walked to their joint office. Fern got her purse from her desk drawer and asked, "Are you ready to go now?"

"Huh? Okay, let's go. I'll plan this out tonight so we'll know exactly what to do tomorrow." He picked up his briefcase with his computer and started out the door.

They called out goodbyes to the employees still in the building. At least he hadn't insisted on being the last one out of the building as well as the first one in. Dare she hope that they could start at a more reasonable hour in the morning?

Pen talked all the way back to the hotel, but he wasn't talking to Fern. He was muttering to himself about his office arrangement. That seductive voice muttering words she couldn't hear activated her nerve endings.

"You know some people say talking to yourself is a sign of insanity?"

He finally looked at her. "That's their problem. I find talking to myself a valuable tool. I think better out loud, and my ideas have more impact and are easier to remember if I say them instead of just think them." He rolled his pen between his fingers. "Of course, talking to yourself can be harmful too. Haven't you heard of what the psychologists call _negative self-talk_?"

She nodded her response. Not only had she heard of it, sometimes she was a master at it. Is that what she was doing when she imagined the worst from everything that Pen said or did?

Was she talking herself into failure? Maybe so. She decided to change to positive self-talk now.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Fern smiled to herself when Pen walked into the hotel. She felt such a feeling of freedom to know she didn't have to see him again until seven-fifteen in the morning. He had apparently decided they didn't have to be in the office an hour before anyone else.

Tonight Fern planned a long soak in a bubble bath followed by an evening curled up in bed with the novel she'd started B.P.— _before Pen._ Hard to believe she had spent just a little over two days with him. He seemed to have taken over her life.

Three hours later, Fern wondered why the tranquil evening she had been anticipating felt so lonely. She normally enjoyed a quiet evening at home after a hectic work day. The dinner she'd picked up at the deli tasted bland, and the bubble bath hadn't worked its usual relaxing magic. Even Nora Roberts' latest novel couldn't hold her interest. She kept visualizing Pen instead of the hero of the novel.

It must be because she was worried about how his presence and policies would affect her job. Had she been too hasty in selling Fern's Fancies? The sale had seemed to be the perfect solution at the time. Why hadn't she realized how dramatic the changes in business operations would be?

The shrill ring of the telephone on the nightstand interrupted her thoughts. "Hello," she answered.

"Fern, I haven't heard from you all week. You were supposed to take me grocery shopping, you know." Her mother's calls always started with a complaint.

"Sorry, Mom. My new boss is in town, and I've been busy with him every day."

"I know you're busy during the day. I've never asked you to take time away from your business to do anything for me. But surely you can spare one evening every couple of weeks to take me to the store. You know I can't drive anymore," she whined.

Fern bit her lower lip. Between her mother and Pen, she'd be lucky to have any lip left. "I know, Mom, and I'll be glad to take you shopping on Saturday. This is the first evening I haven't met with my boss since he's been in town, and I had some chores to do at home."

"I thought you were still going to be the boss when you sold your business."

"I'm the branch manager, but there's a regional manager over all the branches in this region. The regional manager is in town now." As much as she wanted to avoid her mother's grousing, she'd rather talk about her duties as a daughter than discuss her business. "Mom, I know you don't like to use the courtesy van at your apartments. What time do you want to go shopping Saturday?"

"It's a good thing I'm not an 'I told you so,' or I'd remind you what I said when you first mentioned selling your business. Didn't I warn you not to do it? Didn't I tell you you'd lose all your independence? You never listen to me. I'm just your mother. Just because I've always been a housewife you think I don't know anything about the real world, but—"

Fern breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the doorbell. "Mom, sorry, but I have to go. Someone's at the door. How about ten o'clock Saturday for our shopping trip? Then we can have lunch together before I take you home."

"I'm going to buy ice cream. We can't leave it in the car while we eat lunch. We'll have to eat lunch first." Her mother's voice was still whiny.

"Okay. I'll pick you up at eleven. We'll have an early lunch and then shop. Sorry, Mom, but I really have to go." She hung up before her mother could respond. She knew she'd hear about it on Saturday, but she had to end the conversation before she lost her temper.

The doorbell rang again. She looked at the clock next to the phone. Although it felt like it should be late, it wasn't even nine o'clock yet. She grabbed her robe from the foot of the bed and shrugged into it as she hurried down the hall.

She smiled when she saw her neighbor from across the street. "Hi, Susie." She opened the door and motioned her friend in.

Glancing at Fern's attire, Susie asked, "Were you in bed? I'll let you get back to bed and talk to you tomorrow." She started toward the door.

"Please stay. I'm going stir crazy." Fern led her guest into the living room. Susie sat on the sofa and Fern sat in her favorite club chair and stretched her legs out on the hassock. "I thought I wanted a long soak in a bubble bath and then an evening in bed with a good book, but I haven't been enjoying it very much. Then my mother called. The doorbell was a godsend."

Susie grimaced. "I won't say anything. She's your mother and if you can put up with her, more power to you. I'm just glad she's yours and not mine."

"She's lonesome since Dad died. Like most women of her generation, she always depended on him for just about everything. Now she depends on me." Fern shrugged. "It's not my mother who's driving me crazy right now anyway."

"Oh, then who is it?"

"My new boss." Fern explained the corporate hierarchy to Susie. "I don't know why I was so naive that I never even thought about all the changes that would take place when I sold the business."

"You were so excited about all the benefits to your employees and your clients."

"Yeah, I guess I thought Ultimate was some kind of corporate Santa Claus, handing out benefits and resources." She shook her head and grinned. "For some strange reason, they want a say in what goes on in the company when they're handing out all the goodies."

"Tell me about this boss and these changes over a cup of coffee."

Fern jumped up from her chair and headed toward the kitchen. "Sure. See how shook up I am. Have I ever failed to offer you coffee before?

"Nope, and I've never failed to accept the offer." Susie followed Fern into the kitchen and sat at the table. "You know me. I'm not shy. I want coffee, I ask for it. Now tell Aunt Susie all about it."

Fern busied herself measuring the coffee grounds and filling the coffee maker with water. "My new boss, the regional manager, showed up unexpectedly Tuesday. He's been driving me crazy for the last two and a half days."

She related the events A.P.— _after Pen_ —to her friend. "They're changing the company's name. They've already taken down the Fern's Fancies sign." She heard the strain in her voice but couldn't seem to do anything about it.

When the coffee was ready, she poured two cups and carried them to the table. As they stirred in the cream and sugar, the phone rang.

"I hope it's not my mother again," Fern said and picked up the receiver of the wall phone.

Her "hello" was wary. "Oh, hi, Pen."

"Are you busy?" he asked.

"I have company right now."

He should have known. Was it Lover Boy? No, he wouldn't be company—he lived there. Surely she wasn't entertaining another man even if Lover Boy wasn't home. "This won't take long. I've just been working on the plans for my new office. I need to know if you have an unused phone and computer terminal, or do we have to buy them?'

"We don't have an unused phone, but we have an extra one."

"What does that mean?" he demanded.

"There are two in the warehouse fairly close together. We really only need one out there, so the other could be moved to your new office. We don't have an extra computer terminal though."

"I'll use my laptop for now. We can get another terminal when I get back from Chicago."

"Okay. I'll see you at seven fifteen. Good night."

"Wait a minute. You'd better pick me up at seven to be sure we have enough time to stop for breakfast."

"Do you want something besides breakfast tacos?"

"No, they're perfect. Good night, Fern. See you in the morning."

Fern hung up the phone and took a sip of coffee. Susie was looking at her with speculation in her eyes.

"Uh-oh," she said. "Aunt Susie sees a smile on your face she's never seen before. And it first appeared when you heard his voice. Tell me what this guy looks like."

"He's tall, shoulders like this." Fern held her hands apart to show the breadth. "Blond hair, a little long. His eyes are the color of coffee just the way I like it, with just a touch of cream. He's probably the best-looking man I've ever seen." Good heavens, she sounded like a star-struck teen describing her latest crush. "What difference does it make what he looks like? He's making my life miserable because he's my boss."

"You've got a dreamy look on your face just describing him. 'Fess up—you've fallen for him, haven't you?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Okay, so he's a hunk. Any woman would find him, uh, attractive. But he's my boss, for heaven's sake."

Susie shrugged her shoulders. "So what. That doesn't mean you can't be interested in him as a man. Does he have anything to offer besides a great body?"

"As much as I hate to admit it, he really knows this business. I was surprised to find out he just doesn't live in a management ivory tower. He's actually been a maintenance technician himself, so he relates well to the employees. Somehow, he's managed to earn their respect in a short time. Everybody likes him, everybody but me, that is."

"Okay, he's good at his job. What about personality—does he have any redeeming qualities?"

"He's got the same sense of humor I do," Fern answered with a smile as she thought about the jalapeno incident.

Susie giggled. "I'm not sure I'd call that a redeeming quality. You've got a strange sense of humor. But he sounds perfect for you. What's the problem?"

"He's just taking over everything. Now he's moving into my office."

"Moving into your office? Doesn't he have a regional office somewhere?" Susie asked.

Fern repeated Pen's explanation that the regional office would be located in the San Antonio branch.

"Well, it does make sense," Susie responded. "And besides, won't he be traveling a lot to other branches?"

"You're right. I probably won't see him that much anyway. As usual, I'm making a mountain out of a molehill. It was just such a shock to hear he was moving in." She shook her head. "Enough of my problems. You didn't come over to hear my sob story."

"You know Aunt Susie is always ready with a shoulder and a word of advice. But the reason I came over was to ask you to feed Sam and pick up my mail this weekend."

"Sure, I'll feed your cat if you give me a vicarious thrill and tell me where you're going."

"John and I are going to the coast. You know you should spend your weekends doing something besides cooking dinner for Kevin and taking your mother shopping. All work and no play makes Fern a dull girl."

"Yeah, well I just hope this dull girl still has a job when Mr. Regional Manager leaves next week. My life may be all play and no work then."

By noon Friday, Toby and Lee had moved the file cabinets from the room Pen had claimed for his office to the warehouse. Without being quite sure how it had happened, Fern found herself sweeping and mopping the tile floor while the men moved files and furniture. Thank goodness she had worn her uniform because she had no outside appointments today. She'd always considered herself a klutz, and she was even worse around Pen. The floor was clean, but on her way to the kitchen to empty her mop water, she noticed she had transferred most of the dirt to herself.

"Ready to stop for lunch?" Pen's voice startled her as she emptied her bucket of mop water. She splashed some of the water onto her jeans. He continued without seeming to notice. "I thought we'd order pizza for everyone. Okay with you?"

She nodded as she dabbed ineffectually at her wet jeans with a paper towel.

He took the towel from her. "Here, let me do that. You're making things worse." He grasped her waist to balance her and motioned for her to raise her leg. He threw away the sopping towel, jerked a dry one off the roll, and blotted the water from the bottom of her jeans' leg. "That's better. Still damp, but at least it's not dripping," he said as he tossed the towel toward the trash can.

Didn't he realize he was still holding her around the waist? He couldn't know that she felt a warmth spreading from her waist throughout her body, but she had to put a stop to this. She pulled away. "Thanks."

She put away the supplies and headed toward the restroom. Pen's voice followed her down the hall. "Don't be long. The pizza should be here any minute."

Why had he bothered asking her if it was okay with her to order pizza? Obviously he already ordered, and he hadn't even asked her what kind she wanted.

Washing away the dirt and combing her hair restored her confidence that she was at least presentable. When she entered the break room a few minutes later, she found Pen and her employees digging into several pizza boxes.

"Pepperoni, sausage, and supreme," Pen announced as he pointed to each kind. "Help yourself."

Fern watched the interaction between Pen and her employees as she munched her pizza in silence. The staff seemed comfortable with him. They treated him with respect and showed no signs of intimidation. He apparently didn't affect the others as he affected her.

Well, after all, it was her business at stake. The rest of them were employees, and they probably didn't care if they were employees of Fern's Fancies or Ultimate Plant Design. She was the one who had sacrificed her baby, her independence. Her frustration didn't have anything to do with his fabulous body or those mesmerizing eyes or that voice or—

"You awake over here?" Suddenly Pen was standing in front of her.

She raised her napkin to her face and, as inconspicuously as she could, used a corner of it to wipe the moisture that had formed in her eyes. "I am now."

"I asked you if you faxed your weekly report to Melissa yet."

"You mean I have to send in a report even when you're here? I assumed the report was for your benefit."

"Every branch has to turn in a report to the corporate office on Friday. Of course, it's reviewed by the regional manager. However, the data is also input into the computer so we have a continuing comparison of the performance of each branch. You and Maria had better finish the report while the guys and I move the furniture into my office."

Maria gathered the information for the report without much help from Fern. Instead of concentrating on sales figures and replacement rates, she was wondering whether or not Pen would expect her to have dinner with him tonight. What about the weekend? Surely he'd allow her to enjoy Saturday and Sunday without his interference, wouldn't he? And she would be glad to get away from him, wouldn't she?

Fern reviewed and signed the report. "Okay, Maria. This is ready for you to fax. It's almost quitting time. I'm going to see how the guys are doing with Pen's office."

"They've moved all the furniture, and the phone company has already been here to move the phone."

Pen stood in the hall talking to Toby and Lee. "Thanks, guys. A great job. I can really get to work now that I have an adequate work space. All I need now is a couple more chairs."

Fern had to admit, if only to herself, that she was impressed with the transformation. The old file room had become an office. Pen's computer sat on the desk alongside the phone. An executive chair and a file cabinet completed the furnishings.

"It looks good." She didn't add that she was glad he would no longer be sitting next to her in her small office. He didn't need to know that she was so aware of him. "Are you ready to quit for the day now?"

Pen's face carried a satisfied smile as he looked around the office again. He nodded. "Just let me get my laptop. I'll need it over the weekend."

They said goodbye to the departing employees and secured the office. Fern was relieved that Pen didn't pursue any conversation in the car. They were only a block away from his hotel before he spoke.

"I need to look for an apartment tomorrow so I can be ready to move in after my trip back to corporate. Can you recommend an apartment complex?"

"There's an apartment locator service just down the street from your hotel. Why don't you check with them?"

"I'd rather have a personal recommendation. The apartment locators make their money from the apartment complexes they recommend, so they aren't always as objective as someone who's actually lived in some of the places. Where do you live?"

Fern pulled into the hotel driveway and stopped. "I don't live in an apartment and never have, so I can't help you. Sorry."

"Oh, but you can help me. You can drive me when I go to look at apartments." He grinned. "I'll even bribe you with lunch tomorrow if you go apartment hunting with me."

What nerve! She didn't have to be at his beck and call on the weekends too. Her mind told her she didn't want to be around him any more than she had to, but her body rebelled and tried to move closer. Her heart fluttered at the thought of spending time with him away from the office. What was wrong with her?

"Sorry, I already have plans for tomorrow." She had her mother to contend with on Saturday. That thought was almost enough to convince her to go with Pen—almost, but not quite.

"All day? We could apartment hunt in the afternoon and have dinner instead."

"All day. Both morning and afternoon. Both lunch and dinner." She glanced down at her watch. "I have to go now. I have a da—an appointment soon."

He had his computer in one hand, and his other hand was on the doorknob. "What about Sunday?"

"What about Sunday? Sunday is the day after Saturday. The day before Monday. The day I go to church." She took a deep breath and tried to keep from biting her lower lip. "What do you mean, 'What about Sunday?'"

Placing his briefcase back down on the seat, he turned to her and said, "I mean, how about taking me apartment hunting Sunday? If you go to church in the morning, we could go in the afternoon."

"Is helping you look for an apartment on the weekend part of my job?" She bit her lower lip. "I guess you're taking advantage of that famous little clause in my job description: _any other duties as required."_

**CHAPTER NINE**

Pen reached across the seat and took both her hands in his. She had to use all her conscious effort not to react by jerking them back as if burned. They might not be burned but there sure was a warm tingly feeling starting in her hands and moving up her arms and throughout her body when he touched her. Her awareness was so focused on that feeling that it took her a few seconds to realize Pen was talking.

"... not part of your job. I've always heard about that famous Texas hospitality. I thought it might mean you'd be willing to help a newcomer get settled. Guess I forgot that Texans don't like Yankees invading their state. You probably wish I'd disappear back to Chicago."

"That's not fair. I'd be glad to help you out. It's just that I already have plans this weekend." She hoped her words sounded more sincere than they were.

He dropped her hands and picked up his briefcase. "Forget it. See you Monday at seven."

He was already out of the car before she managed to say, "Okay. Have a good weekend."

She was determined to have a good weekend, in spite of her mother. Why did she let Mr. High and Mighty Morgenthal affect her this way? She couldn't even decide exactly how he did affect her.

His high-handed manner made her furious. His ability to destroy her precious independence terrified her. But his sense of humor made her laugh until she cried, and his intelligence impressed her. His magnificent body seemed to call to hers and hers seemed determined to answer the call.

This was silly. So what if he had a great body and the eyes and voice to go with it? She didn't need him. She didn't want him.

Kevin had been trying to deepen their relationship for months. She'd do it. Kevin was a safe, comfortable friend. He'd never throw her into a state of confusion like Pen did. Maybe she didn't feel electricity when he touched her, but she wouldn't get burned either. Tonight she'd give him the encouragement he wanted.

When she opened the door to Kevin an hour later, she knew her first step had been successful. Instead of the casual slacks she usually wore for their pizza and movie dates, she wore a bright red dress that she'd never worn because she thought it was too short. Would Pen's eyes light up the way Kevin's did when he saw her in it? She didn't know why she had that thought. She didn't care how Pen would react, did she? Wasn't she trying to attract Kevin, not Pen?

"Wow. You look gorgeous." Kevin's voice was husky, just as she'd hoped. "Too gorgeous for pizza and movies. I'm taking you out for a night of dinner and dancing."

Her plan would work. If she could make Kevin happy by deepening their relationship, she might forget all about Pen. Well, maybe not forget him. She had to work for the man, after all. She'd see him as just her boss. She'd forget he was a man.

Besides, Kevin was attractive. Before she'd met Pen, she would have said Kevin was the best-looking man she knew. He was as successful as he was good-looking. Her friends told her how lucky she was to have his interest. Even her mother approved of Kevin. Fern liked him, too.

So why didn't she feel ready to deepen their relationship? Why didn't she experience the same thrill in her body when Kevin touched her that she did when Pen just looked at her?

Throughout the evening of dinner and dancing, Fern tried to respond to Kevin. She really did. She leaned forward across the table and tried to listen to everything he said. If intentions could inspire desire, she would have melted in his arms on the dance floor. Her determination, however, didn't spark the feelings she sought to create.

Kevin was the perfect date. He looked deeply into her eyes over the dinner table and held her close as they danced. She tried to respond, but her body wanted to pull away from his touch. Obviously, he was more attracted to her than she was to him. Kevin was a good friend, but she knew now he could never be more than that. On the crowded dance floor, held tightly in Kevin's arms, Fern visualized the image of Pen's strong face with his special smile.

Omigosh. What was she doing? Fern realized she was using Kevin to avoid her attraction to Pen. She couldn't believe she'd been so unfair to Kevin, a friend who deserved much better. On the silent ride home, she wondered what she would do now.

She still hadn't figured out what to do when Kevin stopped the car in his driveway. He put the keys in his pocket but made no move to open the door.

"This isn't working, is it?" he asked without looking at her.

"Kevin, I—"

"Don't say anything else, Fern. Until this week, I really thought I might have a chance with you. Something's changed in the last few days, Fern. If there's someone else, I hope he feels about you the way I do."

"You're a good friend." She knew this wasn't what Kevin wanted to hear, but it was the best she could offer.

"I wanted to be much more than that, but I don't want to destroy our friendship." He took a deep breath and gripped the steering wheel. "I'll miss our dates, Fern."

"Believe me, Kevin, I wish I could feel more for you."

"If you don't, you don't. Goodbye, Fern." He was out of the car and inside his side of the duplex before she could answer.

After a restless night filled with guilt over her treatment of Kevin, Fern put on a dress to take her mother shopping. Fern preferred jeans, but her mother believed a woman should look like a woman. Wearing a dress was more comfortable than listening to her mother's lectures.

Mrs. Tate still found something to complain about over lunch. "I wish you had listened to me when I warned you not to sell your business. You're regretting it now, aren't you?"

"Not regretting it, Mother—just getting used to a few things."

"You must be regretting it. You told me you have a boss now. I know how independent you are. You've never taken direction very well." She shook her head. "You've certainly never listened to me. Why would you listen to a boss?"

Fern bit her lower lip. It was a wonder there was anything left of her lip, between Pen and her mother. "Of course, I've listened to you, Mother, and I have to listen to my boss if I want to keep my job."

"I certainly hope you manage to keep your job. What would you do if you got fired? You've never done anything else in your life. If you had gotten a teaching certificate like I wanted you to—"

"Mother," Fern interrupted, "are you still playing bridge every week?"

Hortense Tate was not so easily distracted. "We're talking about you, dear. There's nothing interesting in my life in that boring place I live. What's happening with you and Kevin?"

There was no way Fern was going to give her mother anything else to criticize. If Fern told her mother she wasn't seeing Kevin any more, she'd want to know who she was seeing, and since that line of inquiry would lead nowhere ...

"Nothing exciting. Just burgers and pizzas and movies." She tried to change the subject. "Did I tell you that I'm the keynote speaker at a workshop the Chamber of Commerce is having on starting a business?"

"How wonderful. I'm glad somebody appreciates you."

Thank goodness, she had picked a positive subject. For once, her mother was interested in hearing about her accomplishment and actually expressed praise instead of censure. They managed to discuss the upcoming speech for the remainder of lunch. Hortense was too occupied with comparison pricing and interpreting her own handwriting on her list to be interested in conversation during their grocery shopping.

When she arrived home several hours later, Fern hurried into the bedroom to change out of her dress and into comfortable slacks and a big shirt. Now what would she do? On Saturday night she usually cooked a fancy meal for Kevin. Normally during this time of the afternoon, she would be planning and preparing the dinner.

This thought reactivated the guilt feelings that hadn't gone away. Suddenly, she felt the need to get away from the duplex. She was tired of shopping, and she didn't feel like visiting any of her friends who would ask about Kevin.

Without being aware of making a decision, Fern found herself dialing the number for Pen's hotel. Her palms were sweating and her heart beat faster. Why was she acting like a lovesick schoolgirl? Pen probably wasn't even there.

"Yes," the voice on the phone said. Pen's voice was easily recognizable.

"Uh, Pen, it's Fern."

"Is something wrong?" He sounded concerned.

"No, nothing's wrong." She took a deep breath and her next words came out in a rush. "My plans for the rest of the day fell through. I can take you apartment hunting, if you still want to, that is."

"Are you sure, Fern? You were definite last night."

"Well, yes, but, as I said, my plans changed. Do you still want to go or not?"

"Fern, Fern, Fern." Was that a sigh she heard? "Of course I still want to go. How soon can you be here?"

"I can leave right now if you're ready."

"I'll be ready by the time you get here. I'll meet you in the lobby." There was a long pause, then Pen said softly, "Thanks, Fern, I appreciate this."

How could he be so unpredictable? Last night he was so high-handed and demanding. Now he was thanking her in a way that warmed her insides. Maybe she was the unpredictable one.

True to his word, Pen was waiting for her in the lobby. "It's just a block to the apartment locator's office. Leave your car parked here, and we can walk there and back. I already called them and told them what kind of apartment we're looking for. They'll have some information ready." He took her elbow and guided her toward the front door.

" _We're_ not looking for any apartment." She threw the words over her shoulder at him. "I'm just your chauffeur."

"Not just my chauffeur. I asked you for your opinion," Pen reminded her.

She hoped he didn't have any idea what his touch was doing to her. All he was doing was gently holding her elbow, but she felt a heat coursing through her entire body. Get a grip, she told herself. Her hormones must be going through a second adolescence. Why didn't they react this way to anyone else?

When they reached the office, Pen introduced himself and asked to speak to Kara, the representative he had spoken to on the phone. She was a model-beautiful blonde, and she put her hand on Pen's sleeve as she handed him the brochures.

"I've found several wonderful possibilities for you." All the time she described the advantages of each complex, she eyed Pen as if sizing up his possibilities.

Fern turned away in disgust. Did the woman have to be so obvious? And did Pen have to enjoy it so much? If he planned to flirt with every gorgeous female he saw, why didn't he leave Fern out of it?

He finally finished his conversation and turned to leave. Fern was standing near the door, and she hurried out ahead of him. She was perfectly capable of walking back to the hotel without his guidance. He could keep his arousing hands to himself. Or save them for Miss Blonde Bombshell.

Pen's long legs brought him almost even with her before she'd gone even half a block. "Hey, what's the hurry? Wait up."

"Why don't you ask the blonde bombshell to show you the apartments? I'll bet she'd be thrilled." Fern thought she had spoken softly enough so Pen couldn't hear her, but obviously he had better hearing than she thought.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"Nothing. I was just mumbling to myself. Do you know where you want to go?"

"Of course I do. Wasn't that the purpose of this little exercise? You're the one who suggested using the apartment locator."

Pen took her elbow again. When did he become such a gentleman? And why did her elbow—her whole body—feel a heat, a tingling that should never be caused by a gentlemanly touch?

They finally reached the hotel and took the garage elevator to the level where she had parked her car. At the exit, Pen handed her the money to pay the parking fee and told her to turn right.

Their first stop was a large singles complex, offering frequent social events and all the luxury one could want in an efficiency apartment. Pen wrinkled his nose at the clubroom and the calendar of events. When he saw the apartment, he thanked the manager for showing it to them and told Fern, "Let's move on."

She wondered why Pen had shown no interest in this location. "Since you're new in town, I thought you'd enjoy a place with so many events. You'd find it easy to meet people."

"Yeah, sure—easy to meet desperate single women who are looking for a husband or a lover." He opened the car door for her. After she got in, he walked around the car and seated himself in the passenger seat. "Imagine trying to get a decent night's sleep with all those parties going on. I want somewhere quiet."

When they arrived at the next complex, she said, "If you want quiet, we might as well not stop here. Look at all those kids."

"I think families with children should live in a house, but I don't have a problem being around them." He directed her to stop at the information center.

After looking around, Pen shook his head and led her back to the car. "I don't want a bachelor pad, with the hot tub and the big screen TV, but I don't want the family complex either, with pets and playgrounds instead of hot tubs. Surely we can find a happy medium."

The sat in the car in the parking lot as he continued to look through brochures. "Okay, let's try this one next." He held up a brochure. "It has both families and singles, so maybe it'll be better."

It wasn't. Neither was the next one, nor the next one, or the next one. One was too large, another too small, another too old, almost seedy.

As they drove away from the seedy complex, Fern said, "Pen, we've been at this for hours, and we're not any closer to finding something than we were when we started."

"Of course we are. We've eliminated six places that won't work. We only have one more to see today." He grinned. "Then I'll take you to dinner. It's almost six o'clock. That's why you're getting grouchy. You're probably hungry."

"I am not hungry. Okay, I am hungry—I had an early lunch. But I'm tired too." She stopped at a red light.

Pen reached over and gently lifted her chin and turned her face toward him. "Have I been pushing you too hard? We can quit now and have dinner if you like. The world won't come to an end if I don't find a place today."

Puzzled by his unexpected gentleness, Fern answered, "We only have one more complex, and we're almost there. Let's check it out before we eat."

He leaned over and lightly brushed her lips with his. "I'm tired, too. I'm tired of living in a hotel."

Fern felt the brief kiss all the way to her toes. It took her a few seconds to realize the light had changed. Pen dropped his hands from her face and looked straight ahead.

When she pulled into the driveway of the last complex on their list, Pen sat up in his seat and looked around. "This place has been here awhile. I like the trees and the landscaping. Look, each apartment actually has a patch of grass or a balcony."

Residents were visible on their patios and balconies—children playing, adults standing over barbecue grills, and others just sitting and talking. "Looks like there's a mix of singles and families," Fern commented.

"Yeah, there's even an older couple over there. This looks like a real neighborhood with all kinds of people—not an artificial community of people who are all alike." Pen's voice sounded wistful as he continued, "It's like the neighborhood where I grew up."

Fern was surprised at his enthusiasm for the interior of the apartment. It looked cozy and comfortable. It offered all the comforts—microwave oven, washer, and dryer—but it would never be described as luxurious. The furniture looked more appropriate for a family than for a handsome young bachelor.

The manager stayed in the bedroom adjusting the blinds while Pen and Fern walked back into the living room.

"This is perfect." Pen grabbed Fern's hands and twirled her around the room. "Look out that window. I can see the pool, but all those trees give privacy." He stopped spinning Fern around and kissed her on the forehead. When the apartment manager came into the living room, he dropped Fern's hands, and said, "I'll take it. When can I move in?"

"It's available immediately, but we have to verify your employment and income before we can rent it. We have to wait until Monday to do that," the manager answered. "You can fill out the application and give me a deposit now, and if everything checks out okay Monday, you can move in Monday evening."

Pen smiled his most charming smile. "I'd really like to move in tomorrow. Is there any way I can do that?"

"I'm afraid not. I need to call your employer to verify your employment and income."

"Well, that's easy. I work for Ultimate Plant Service. You'll probably recognize it by its former name, Fern's Fancies."

"Of course, I've heard of Fern's Fancies," the manager answered.

"Well, this lady right here is Fern Tate. If you waited to call the office Monday, she's the one you'd talk to." He smiled again—a smile that could probably persuade any woman to do anything. "How about if she does the verification in person rather than over the phone? Isn't that even better?"

"Well, I don't know. My instructions tell me to call the employer." She paused. "Of course, some employers won't release information by phone. They require written permission from the employee, so we have to mail them the form with the authorization from the applicant. The employers fill out the form and send it back."

"Great." Pen guided them out of the apartment. "Let's go back to your office and I'll sign that form and Fern can fill it out right now. It'll save time and postage."

CHAPTER TEN

Fern was too flabbergasted to think of anything to say. What would she say—that she wasn't Pen's employer? If she said that, he'd never get the apartment, and it was obvious he wanted it. However, she didn't have any idea of Pen's pay.

When they arrived at the leasing office, the manager handed Pen two forms. "I need to check the answering machine and return a few calls. You can sit at the table in the clubroom to fill these out. Just bring them back to me in that office," she pointed, "when you've finished."

They stepped into the clubroom. Fern said, "How am I supposed to fill out a form about your employment? I'm not exactly privy to confidential personnel information about my boss."

"I'll tell you everything you need to know." Pen sat at the table and motioned for her to sit beside him.

"Pen, I'm not your employer."

"Nobody said you were. I told her if she called the office, she'd talk to you. That's true, isn't it? You certainly shouldn't let anyone else in the office handle calls about personnel matters." Pen filled out the application as he spoke.

"Of course, I'd take the call, but I'd just refer her to the corporate office." Fern ignored the empty chair and stood over Pen and glared.

"That's a waste of time and effort. We can take care of everything right now." Again he motioned for her to sit, and this time she complied.

Shrugging her shoulders in resignation, she filled in the blanks on the employment verification form with the information Pen provided. When he told her his salary, she stood up and threw the pen on the table. "You make that much? Boy, that puts me in my place, doesn't it? I know there has to be a salary gap between a regional manager and a branch manager, but that's no gap. That's the Grand Canyon."

Pen stood, walked over to her, placed his hands on her shoulders, and squeezed. "You'll know about the change next week. I didn't mean to tell you like this. Don't you dare let anybody from corporate know I told you before you got the official announcement."

"You haven't told me anything, so I can hardly let anybody know." She moved to step away from him, but his hands on her shoulders held her where she was.

"Fern, on the first of the month you'll receive a substantial raise to put your salary in line with other branch managers. The pay scale for your entire company is too low. Every single person in your company will get a raise." He squeezed her shoulders again. "Now can we get back to this paperwork so we can go to dinner? I'll answer all your questions then."

He knew she didn't like the delay, but he hoped she would realize this wasn't an appropriate conversation to have when the apartment manager was just down the hall waiting for the paperwork. He breathed a silent sigh of relief when she sat and meekly filled out the rest of the information regarding his dates of employment and job duties. Then she signed her name and handed the form back to Pen.

He took her hand and pulled her from the chair. He continued to hold her hand while they walked to the manager's office. He was disappointed, but not surprised, that she pulled her hand away when they reached the office. Holding her hand felt so natural, just as spinning her around in excitement in his apartment had.

He didn't even want to think about that brief, almost-kiss. What had started out as just another demonstration of his excitement over the apartment could easily have turned into something much different if he had allowed it. This woman was going to drive him crazy. He couldn't figure what it was about her that made his response to her so different from his reactions to other women.

The manager read the rental application and the employment verification form. "I see you've only been here a week. Do you intend to be here for the full term of this lease, which is one year?"

"I'm in San Antonio permanently to set up the new regional office for our company. I'll definitely be here for the full year."

The manager dithered for a few minutes. "I've never approved an application as soon as it was filled out like this. I guess—"

"One of the signs of a good manager is to be able to make quick decisions. I'm glad to see you have that ability," Pen said.

With that, the manager smiled and said, "I just need a check for the deposit and first month's rent, and I'll give you a key."

There was another hesitation when he produced a check written on a Chicago bank, but finally Pen had the key. The manager escorted them to the door with the words, "You can move in anytime."

"I'll be here tomorrow."

Why did those words produce a foreboding in Fern's mind? Wonder what I'll be doing tomorrow, she thought.

"Where do you want to have dinner?" Pen asked as he guided her to the car.

"It's late, and I'm tired. I don't really feel like going to dinner now."

"Fern, Fern, Fern." He shook his head and leaned against the car. "You have to eat dinner. But we can just stop for a sandwich or a burger if you like, and I'll treat you to a real dinner tomorrow after we move."

"After we move?" She was tempted to get in the car and drive off without him, but he was blocking the driver's door. "I've lived in the same place for over two years, and I have no intention of moving anywhere."

Pen laughed—that throaty laugh that melted her insides. "You know what I mean." He stopped laughing but continued to smile his killer smile.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Forget it's Sunday and I'm supposed to be on my own time. The boss says "jump,"and Fern jumps." She tried to bite back the words, but the words were already out and all she bit was her lip—again.

Suddenly serious, Pen asked, "Do you really think that's the way it is? Have I been such an ogre?"

"Well—"

"Look, this parking lot is not the place to be having this discussion. Will you please drive us somewhere we can sit and talk?" He sounded almost pleading. "We can go to your place if you don't want to be seen in public with me. I'd invite you to my hotel room, but you'd get the wrong idea."

Sure—take him to her place. Kevin would probably see Pen and be hurt even more than he already had been. That was out. She'd probably get the wrong idea going to his hotel room but not because she expected him to seduce her. She'd be the one tempted to do the seducing, even though she'd never done such a thing in her entire life.

"I guess I am hungry. There's a quiet coffee shop down the street. It's not fancy, but we can talk."

He walked around the car to the passenger's side. "Okay, let's go."

On the drive to the coffee shop, Pen wondered why he cared what she thought of him. She was an employee—maybe the best branch manager in the company, but still an expendable employee. He could understand his physical attraction to her, although he'd never had such a strong reaction to a woman before. She was a gorgeous, appealing woman—any man would find her attractive.

But why this concern about her thoughts and feelings? As difficult as it was to admit, even to himself, he had been hurt when she made the comment about the boss saying "jump."

Fern brought the car to a stop. "We're here. I told you it wasn't fancy."

"It's fine," he said as he stepped out of the car.

There was no more conversation until they had been seated and given their orders to the bubbly waitress.

"I'm sorr—," Fern began.

"Am I—," Pen said at the same time. He smiled, and continued, "Ladies first."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be disrespectful." The words left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she knew they had to be said.

"Forget that, Fern. Be honest with me now. Do you really see me as such a selfish dictator?" He leaned forward across the table.

"You're my boss. I have no right—"

"Forget that." Several other people in the restaurant looked up at his raised voice. "Right now we're just two people having dinner. At this moment Ultimate Plant Service doesn't exist. All that exists is you and I."

"How can I forget that you're my boss?" she asked, her jaw thrust stubbornly forward.

"I find it much too easy to forget you're an employee. When I hear that sexy voice of yours, all I can think of is Fern—the woman. When I'm laughing at your silly antics over the breakfast tacos, I'm sure not thinking about plants or profits." He slapped his hand on the table. "And you say you can't forget I'm your boss."

That's what he got for letting himself be attracted to—this feeling was way past attraction, obsession maybe—an employee. Not only was he endangering his job by making himself vulnerable to a charge of sexual harassment, but the woman he was crazy about didn't think of him as anything except her boss. And, obviously, a bad boss at that!

Fern's voice was so soft it took him a few seconds to realize she was speaking.

"... risk my job by thinking of you as anything other than my boss. I've already lost most of my independence. I can't risk my job, too."

His heart went out to her. Was Fern different from the other small company owners whose businesses had been acquired by Ultimate, or had he just never before realized what a trauma it was to give up a business to become part of a conglomerate? Pen hadn't experienced problems giving up his business and going to work for Ultimate, but he didn't have years and years invested in his company. He never had the emotional attachment to his business that Fern obviously did to hers.

He reached across the table and took her hands in his. "I'm sorry, Fern. I guess I've been insensitive, but I really didn't understand how difficult this change is for you."

"I don't want you to think I regret it or anything." She tried to pull her hands away, but Pen held them firmly, if gently.

"Will you please try to forget that I'm your boss? For tonight, try to think of me as a friend. Tell me what I've done to make you think I'm such an ogre."

"I don't think you're an ogre. I guess I just didn't think far enough ahead when I sold out. Somehow, I envisioned everything would just go on as it had, except I'd have all the advantages of a huge company—more operating capital and better benefits for my employees." She lowered her head. "I just forgot that everything has disadvantages as well as advantages. I forgot I wouldn't be the boss anymore." She blinked several times to stop the tears, but they escaped from her eyes and trickled down her cheeks.

Pen felt an overwhelming urge to protect her. He wanted to dry her tears and keep her from ever crying again. He reached up and wiped away the tears with his thumbs. Then he leaned across the table and kissed the tip of her nose before he took her hands again.

"What's the worst thing I've done?" he asked.

She looked up at him. "It's not you. It's the situation. Remember, I've owned this business for ten years. I've run it entirely alone. Every decision—right or wrong—was mine. No one told me I had to send in a report to the corporate office. No one looked over my shoulder and judged everything I did. No one criticized every little mistake."

"I don't recall doing much criticizing," Pen answered. "I'm pleased with the job you're doing, and so is everyone at corporate. Yes, we have reports. Don't you expect reports from your employees?"

She nodded. "Most of the time I only get verbal reports, but you're right. I have to know what's happening. That's the worst part of this whole thing—it's my own fault. I just don't like it."

"A few minutes ago you said you didn't regret selling. Now you're saying it's your own fault. You can't be at fault for something you don't regret."

"I should have been better prepared—I usually am. Whenever I make a big decision, I try to consider all the pros and cons." She shrugged her shoulders. "I thought I did that when I decided to sell." She gave a hollow laugh as another tear dropped from her eye. "My list of pros and cons even has loss of independence as a con, but it was offset by reduced responsibility and worry as a pro."

Pen stroked his thumbs over her sensitive palms. "You analyzed the situation thoroughly and objectively. Unfortunately, your emotions aren't objective, are they?"

The arrival of the waitress with their meals saved her from having to reply. As they ate in silence, Fern wanted to change the subject to lighten the mood. She was searching her mind for something—anything—to say when her thoughts were interrupted by Pen's laughter. She looked up in surprise.

"I was just thinking about the dinner we had the first night I was here. That jalapeno was about the hottest thing I've ever run across." Except Fern. Or himself when he was around her.

Fern smiled. "I did try to warn you. I didn't know guys from Chicago thought they're as macho as South Texas men."

"Hey, you don't think the new guy in town could afford to look like a wimp, do you? As it turned out, I was more of a wimp than I thought, but I survived it." Her smile encouraged him to continue in the same vein. "You didn't give away my secret weakness, did you?"

"Sure I did. Didn't you bother to read the report I sent to corporate? In that section that says, 'report any special problems you have encountered this week,' I said, 'My problem is the wimp you sent down here as my boss. Any man who can't eat a jalapeno can't handle a job as big as regional manager.'" She smiled.

Pen laughed. "Yeah, sure you did." He put down his fork and reached for her hands. "Don't you know there's a penalty for lying to the boss?"

He pulled her toward him and leaned forward. He could no longer resist the temptation to kiss her. The big shirt she wore billowed out into her plate at the same time their joined hands knocked over his glass. He dropped her hands and they stared at each other. Fern's shirt was adorned with a large splotch of gravy, and Pen's pants were dripping with tea and ice.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The cold liquid and ice shocked him less than the realization that he had been about to kiss his subordinate. Not only kiss her, but do it in a public place. He must have unknown masochistic tendencies. Kiss Fern, and he could probably kiss his career goodbye. The career that meant so much to him. Ultimate took such a hard line on sexual harassment that company policy forbade any fraternization between co-workers.

When Fern regained the ability to think, she excused herself and hurried to the ladies' room. She managed to wipe away most of the gravy, but she couldn't eliminate the memory of what had just happened. Dragging her shirt through the gravy didn't embarrass her nearly as much as the fact that she almost let Pen kiss her—in the middle of a busy coffee shop, no less. Let him? If she were honest with herself, she'd admit she was fully prepared to kiss him back. In fact, she was tempted to do much more than kiss him.

She'd vowed to herself she'd never give her body to a man unless she'd already committed her heart and life to him. It had been easy to keep her vow because she'd never felt a strong desire to give her body to a man. Now she faced the challenge of keeping her pledge in spite of a physical attraction stronger than she could have imagined.

She remembered her relationship with Kevin. As much as she cared for him as a friend, she'd never felt the desire for him that she felt for Pen. How could she have developed such desire in such a short time? She'd always believed that she would have to love the man for whom she felt such desire.

She couldn't possibly love Pen already—she'd known him less than a week. That wasn't enough time—

"Fern, are you all right in there?" Loud knocking accompanied Pen's voice outside the ladies' room.

"I'll be right out," she called back. Smoothing her hair and blotting her blouse one last time, she walked out into the corridor where Pen stood waiting.

"Sorry if I embarrassed you. It's just, well, you were gone an awfully long time."

"I was trying to get the gravy out of my shirt." She looked at his face rather than his lap. "Did you get dried off?"

"I'm okay." He took her arm and led her back toward the table. "I wouldn't let the waitress take your plate. Do you want me to have it warmed up for you?"

"No, I was through." She stood by the table. "I'm ready to leave if you are."

Pen nodded, picked up the check from the table, and strode to the cash register, still holding Fern's arm.

As soon as they were in the car heading toward his hotel, Pen said, "Fern, you don't need to help me move. I'll call a cab. All I have is my luggage anyway." He turned to look at her. "I'm sorry I asked for your help. Thank you for going with me today. I didn't mean to be dictatorial."

Guilt stabbed her heart. She still regretted her treatment of Kevin, and now she regretted her outburst to Pen. "I really didn't mind taking you today. And I'll be glad to haul you and your luggage to your new place." She couldn't bring herself to apologize for her tantrum, but she hoped he recognized the apology implicit in what she did say.

He protested. "It's really not necessary. I've already taken enough advantage of you."

Why, she didn't know, but his protest made her determined to help him the next day. "You haven't taken advantage of me. I really want to help you tomorrow."

"I said no thanks." Pen's voice reflected a determination equal to her own.

"Still playing Mr. Important Boss, are you?"

"What? I told you I appreciate your offer, but you don't need to help me tomorrow."

"That's because you have to have the last word. If I had said I didn't want to help you, you'd insist I do it. Because I offered, you don't want my help anymore." She didn't know why she continued to argue. She didn't want to help him anyway, did she?

Their laughter rang out in unison. Pen shook his head. "I can't believe this. We're acting like a couple of preschoolers fighting over a toy—neither of them wants it, but they're not about to let the other one have it."

"Does that mean you really want my help?" Fern asked.

"Of course, I do." That killer smile lit up his face. "You probably really don't want to help me, but I'd appreciate it if you would."

When he flashed that smile and gazed at her with those incredible eyes, she really did want to help him. "Okay, I'll help you. It's not like I need a moving van for you and a couple of suitcases."

"Did you say you go to church in the morning?"

"Yeah. I'll be out about twelve-thirty or so. Then I'll go home, change clothes, and eat lunch. I can pick you up about two o'clock. Is that all right?"

Pen waited for her to pull into the hotel driveway and stop before he answered. "Would you be offended if I suggested I go to church with you?"

"How could anyone be offended that someone—even you," she said with a laugh, "wants to go to church? That would be a real example of Christian charity, wouldn't it?"

"My pastor in Chicago says the church is a hospital for sinners, not a hotel for saints. You probably think this sinner really needs to be in a hospital," he teased. "Can I go with you tomorrow? We can have lunch after church."

"That's fine." She hesitated before she continued. "But I did want to change into jeans before the move."

"No problem. Just carry a change of clothes in the car, and you can change at the hotel." Her face must have registered shock at this suggestion, because Pen looked at her and said, "For heaven's sake, Fern, I'm not suggesting anything improper. I know I said I'm a sinner, but I wouldn't try to seduce you right after we leave church."

Her face flamed red. She knew he didn't mean to suggest anything provocative. Her own thoughts embarrassed her. "I never thought you would."

"Well, you sure looked shocked. Enough of that. What time will you pick me up for church?"

"Ten-thirty. The service starts at eleven."

"Okay. Goodnight, Fern."

Her mind reeled with thoughts, as it always seemed to do after she had been with Pen. She didn't know why she was so determined to help him move. He could call a cab to drive him and his two bags—three bags—mustn't forget that ubiquitous computer.

Fern felt confused. If he told her—or asked her in a way she couldn't refuse—to do something, she resisted with all her might. But if he said he didn't need her help, she insisted on giving it to him. Maybe she had the problem, not him.

As Fern dressed for church Sunday morning, she wondered why she felt so jittery. Surely Pen would behave himself at church. Surely she could control her own thoughts in church.

He was waiting for her when she pulled into the hotel driveway, just as he'd been every morning before work. She'd thought he'd looked as good as a man could in his casual work clothes, but in his suit he took her breath away.

When they arrived at church, Fern realized that, for one of the few times in their acquaintance, they had carried on a comfortable conversation. Had Pen been less abrasive in his comments or had she just become accustomed to him? Perhaps they were both on their best behavior because they were on their way to church.

"Believers' Community Chapel," Pen read the sign in front of the church as Fern pulled into the parking lot. "What denomination is it?"

"It's nondenominational. We use music and rituals from several different denominations."

"I've been to a lot of different churches since I travel so much. When I'm on a trip, I usually attend whatever service is the most convenient from the hotel." He turned toward her and smiled. "It's nice to know someone in the congregation."

When Fern observed Pen during the service, she realized she might have misjudged him. Could a man be so attentive and appear so sincere in church if he were as obnoxious and self-centered as she had convinced herself he was?

She introduced him to the minister and several members of the congregation after the service.

"I'm moving to San Antonio, and I'll be looking for a church home. This certainly feels like a good possibility to me," Pen told the minister.

When they arrived at the car, Fern asked, "Do you want to go back to your hotel now?"

"Yeah," he answered, pulling at his tie. "I can't wait to get out of this." Suddenly he stopped untying his tie. "But I promised you lunch, so I guess we'd better do that while we're still dressed."

Fern laughed. "I assume you mean while we're still dressed in our Sunday go to meetin' clothes, don't you?"

"You're right." Pen joined her in laughter. "We'd better stay dressed all day. I don't want to get evicted from my new apartment for indecent exposure before I even move in."

He forced away the images that rose to his mind at the thought of their being undressed. That line of thinking was unacceptable at any time. He was still her boss, and the company still had a strict policy regarding sexual harassment.

"We don't need to go anywhere fancy. Why don't we go by the hotel to change clothes and pick up your things? By that time, we might miss the after church crowd at the restaurant." Fern climbed into the car as she spoke.

"Good idea," Pen answered as he opened the car door.

"What did you think of the sermon?" he asked in an attempt to take his mind off indecent exposure. "I thought it was excellent."

A lively discussion of the fine points of the sermon followed, and they were at the hotel sooner than he expected.

He carried Fern's bag and motioned her into the bathroom when they reached his room. He took off his coat—his tie had come off as soon as Fern had said they didn't need to stay dressed for lunch. Hanging his coat and tie allowed him to resist the temptation to follow Fern until he heard the click of the lock in the door.

Resisting her was becoming more difficult with each passing moment. He could handle the physical reaction, as strong as it was. His emotional reaction to her made him feel as if he were gasping for air.

He had never before attended church with a woman. Pen had always considered his spiritual life to be intensely personal, not to be shared with anyone. Why had it felt so right to sit beside Fern in church? Why had their spirited discussion of the sermon given him such pleasure?

He felt so in tune with her. He desired her, he respected her, and he enjoyed being with her. The combination of desire, respect, and liking had always been Pen's definition of love.

He'd known Fern less than a week. He couldn't be in love with her already. Love at first sight happened only in movies. He knew he couldn't love her, but what name could he give his feelings toward her?

The creak of the bathroom door opening broke his reverie.

"Your turn," Fern announced.

He nodded and hurried into the bathroom carrying his jeans and T-shirt. In only a few minutes, he returned. He hung his pants on a hanger, placed them in the garment bag, and zipped it.

"Do you want to wait here while I make the first trip?" he asked.

"What do you mean, the first trip? We only need to make one trip." She picked up the garment bag. "You take your computer and the other bag."

"Fern, you ... Never mind. No use in me saying you don't have to do that. It won't do any good, will it?" He placed the two bags by the door and walked around the room, opening drawers and closets.

"Nope. It'll just waste time. I don't know why you seem to keep forgetting what I do for a living. I'm not the boss. I'm just one of the peons."

"You're not—"

She took a deep breath and interrupted. "Forget I said that. It's been a lovely morning, and I didn't mean to say anything to spoil it." She stepped into the hall with the garment bag. "I don't mind carrying your bag. It's not heavy."

After Pen checked all the drawers and closets for any forgotten items, they rode the elevator to the lobby in silence. Fern carried the garment bag to the car and returned for the other bag before Pen completed checking out of the hotel.

Lunch was magic. Fern resisted the urge to pinch herself. If she was dreaming, she didn't want to know it. Either Pen had turned on the charm or she had changed her reactions to him. The happiness she felt inside was probably reflected on her face in a goofy grin.

"That must have been the most original excuse I've ever heard for missing work." Pen smiled as he concluded his anecdote about dealing with an employee attendance problem at one of the branches.

"I've heard some strange excuses, but I've never heard that one. Imagine missing work because you had to bury your dead goldfish."

Pen swallowed the last of his iced tea. "Ready?" he asked.

Fern nodded and picked up her purse. In only a few minutes, they had arrived at Pen's new apartment. Pen carried his bags into the bedroom while Fern waited in the living room.

"I'd offer you coffee or soda, but my cupboard is bare," Pen said on his return. "Do you know if there's a grocery store in walking distance?"

"Yeah, there's an HEB in the next block."

"HEB? Is that a store?" he asked.

"Yeah, the H. E. Butt family has been in the grocery business here forever." She rose from the chair and stepped toward the kitchen. "What about dishes and cookware?"

"I have everything back in Chicago. I'll pack it all when I go back the week after next and have it shipped. In the meantime, I was just going to get some sandwich stuff and paper plates. Maybe a couple of frozen dinners to pop into the microwave." He shrugged. "It'll be only a few more days till I have everything down here."

"I'll drive you to the store." Fern didn't know why she made the offer. She'd done her duty. She could go home now and relax. "You'll probably have more than you can carry in one trip."

"Thanks for the offer," Pen said, "but you've already done enough. Go on home and enjoy the rest of your weekend. I won't impose on you any more." He started toward the kitchen.

"I said I'll drive you," Fern insisted. "You can't impose when I'm the one to make the offer. Do you need to buy groceries or not?"

Pen laughed and held out his hands in a gesture of defeat. "Okay, you win. We're back to squabbling like two-year-olds. Thank you, Fern, I'd appreciate your help," he said with a smile.

When they reached the store, Pen took a cart and headed for the bakery. He selected bread, crackers, and cookies. Then he went to the deli and selected several kinds of meats and cheeses.

"Where are the chips?" he asked.

After he chose two kinds of chips, he pushed the cart to the frozen food section. He tossed a couple of frozen pot pies and a package of frozen burritos into the basket, and said, "That should do for a week. Now for some paper goods."

"Do you call all that junk you picked out food?" Fern took a firm hold on the shopping cart. "Where are the fruits and vegetables?"

"I'm not going to cook much till I bring my kitchen things."

He pushed the cart, but Fern stood directly in front of it. When he tried to go forward, she pushed back against it.

"You don't have to cook fresh fruit. If you don't want to make the effort to cook fresh vegetables, at least buy some canned veggies." She took her hands from the cart and placed them on her hips. "You can heat them in the microwave on a paper plate, so don't give me this business about not wanting to cook."

Pen pushed the cart forward, and Fern jumped out of the way. "What are you—a dietitian? My mother always made me eat my vegetables when I was kid. I'm a grownup now, so I decide what I eat."

His raised voice attracted interested glances from other shoppers. Fern didn't like to be the center of attention, but she ignored the other shoppers and grabbed Pen's arm.

"You may be a grownup, but you're sure acting like a kid. All I did was suggest you moderate your diet of junk food with a piece of fruit or a bowl of veggies, and you act like I've committed the crime of the century." She whirled around and walked away.

She was acting as childish as Pen had. He'd been right when he'd said they were like bickering children. Why did she overreact to everything he said or did? She had no business caring if he wanted to subsist on sandwiches and burritos. Why was she worried about his health?

Just because his body exerted a magnetic pull on hers—just because his mind intrigued her—just because he shared her sense of humor—just because he could charm her when he wasn't antagonizing her didn't mean she should become involved in his personal life. She walked around the store a few minutes before she found him loading paper plates and plastic utensils in the basket.

"I see you found the paper goods and soap," she said, inclining her head toward the paper towels, bath soap, and dish detergent in the cart.

Pen didn't answer right away. He picked up a package of napkins and placed them in the cart. "I think I have everything I need, unless you have any more suggestions to offer."

"No more suggestions." She took a deep breath and nibbled on her lower lip. "I'm sorry. Your eating habits are none of my concern." The thought that she wished all of his habits were her concern startled her.

Pen pushed the basket forward and spoke without looking at her. "Where would I find the fruit? I'd like some bananas and apples."

Fern knew that Pen would not apologize easily, so she decided to take his comment as an apology and a peace offering.

"This way."

She was pleased to see him buy a prepackaged salad as well as the fruit. Either his eating habits weren't as bad as she thought or he was trying to make amends.

CHAPTER TWELVE

After the shopping expedition, Fern found herself in Pen's kitchen unloading groceries from the bags. He placed the perishables in the refrigerator and the paper goods in the cabinets. When he returned from carrying some of the paper towels into the bathroom, Fern asked, "Do you have any bath towels?"

Pen frowned. "Back in Chicago. I guess I'll have to find a place to buy some to use till mine get here."

"You don't have to do that. I'll loan you some." Fern felt her face and neck burn and knew she must be a bright red. "If you have enough, it's silly to buy more for just a week. I-I have enough to loan you some for a few days."

"I was so excited about finally moving out of the hotel I didn't think about everything. No need to loan me towels. I have to go shopping because I need sheets, too." He sat at the kitchen table and pulled out the chair next to him.

Fern sat and folded her hands in front of her. She looked at her hands instead of at Pen as she said, "I have extra sheets, too."

Pen knew he'd never sleep on Fern's sheets. They'd probably carry her subtle scent, and he'd spend the night dreaming about her. However, he didn't know how to refuse her offer. He certainly couldn't tell her he already dreamed about her every night.

"That's too much trouble for you. I don't mind buying extra." He hoped that would let him off the hook, but he wasn't surprised when it didn't.

"Don't be silly. I'll go home to get them while you finish unpacking." She rose from the chair and started walking across the room. "I'll be back in half an hour."

It was closer to an hour later when Fern returned. "I figured you needed pillows, too." She dropped linens and two pillows onto the sofa and sat beside the stack of sheets and towels.

"You didn't have to outfit my apartment." When Fern opened her mouth to respond, he continued, "But I appreciate it. I'm going to cook the pot pies for dinner. If I add a salad and offer fruit for dessert, will you stay for dinner?"

"I have some things I need to do at home. You don't owe me dinner for helping you move." She rose and started toward the door.

Pen touched her arm to stop her. He felt her stiffen. Did she find his touch so repulsive, or could it be that she was trying to hide a more exciting reaction?

"All I offered was a frozen pot pie, not a gourmet meal. You have to eat sometime, and I don't want to be alone for my first meal in my new home," Pen cajoled. "It has nothing to do with owing you anything." He didn't voice the thought that it had everything to do with wanting to spend more time with her.

"Are you're sure you're not just offering because you think it's expected?" She turned back to face Pen.

He grinned. "Do you think I'd do something just because it was expected?"

Fern answered his grin with a smile of her own. "I guess not. In the short time I've known you, you've never yet done what's expected." She sat on the sofa. "Okay, I'll celebrate your new home with you."

He was shocked to find himself thinking it would be more of a celebration if it were their new home. Why had he had that thought? He had always valued his independence and his privacy. He'd never before felt the desire to share his living space or his life with anyone; he'd never seen marriage in his future.

Pen wished he'd thought to plan a more elegant meal than frozen pot pies on paper plates. What had possessed him to ask Fern to join him? If he wanted to impress her, he should have taken her out for a meal. He didn't want to impress her—she was his subordinate. No fraternization, no opportunity for a complaint of sexual harassment, remember?

In spite of his qualms, Pen enjoyed the simple meal under camp-out conditions. He knew he'd never found that much pleasure eating a gourmet meal in a fancy restaurant with another woman. What was happening to him?

Fern laughed at one of Pen's jokes and said a silent thank you for the impulse that induced her to stay for dinner. She couldn't believe this was the same man who was taking away her independence at work. Not only was he the most gorgeous man alive, he had a fantastic sense of humor.

Sharing laughter with Pen over a casual meal at the kitchen table felt natural. She couldn't remember laughing so much or feeling such a tingle of excitement sharing an evening with any other man. She didn't want to feel this way about Pen. He was her boss, the man who was turning Fern's Fancies into Ultimate Plant Service, Inc.

Why wasn't she feeling the anger and resentment she had felt when she read that e-mail? He was still the same arrogant manager who had antagonized her from the beginning. She couldn't let her guard down now just because he was gorgeous and fun.

He demonstrated his fun with a joke. "Four plant maintenance technicians and a regional manager were all killed in a car wreck. When they got to heaven, St. Peter took the technicians aside and told them there would be a slight delay because heaven wasn't ready for them yet. He had them all stay in one motel room until their heavenly accommodations were ready.

"The motel wasn't up to the standard you'd expect of heaven. There weren't any little bottles of shampoo, and only one channel of the TV worked. One of the techs had to dry on a face towel because there were only three bath towels.

"The techs put up with the inconveniences cheerfully until they heard a brass band outside their window. They looked out, and lo and behold, the regional manager was riding in a convertible in a huge parade.

"St. Peter was standing just outside their door watching their parade. They went outside, and one of the techs said, 'We agreed to these paltry temporary quarters because we thought everyone was getting the same treatment. Now we see the regional manager treated like royalty. That's not fair. Why was the red carpet rolled out for him while we get shabby treatment?'

"'Well,' said St. Peter, 'we get technicians up here in heaven all the time. But this is the first regional manager we've ever seen!'"

Fern laughed heartily at the joke and forgot her doubts and worries. Everything would be different tomorrow at the office, but she was going to enjoy herself just for tonight. She would pretend that Pen didn't hold the future of her career in his hands. Nothing that happened tonight would change their relationship, but there was no reason to dwell on it when she could be having a good time.

"I'll wash the dishes while you clean the table," Fern said. In response to Pen's quizzical look, she tossed the paper plates and plastic utensils into an empty plastic grocery bag.

"Just hang the bag over the doorknob until I buy a trash can," Pen told her as he wiped the table with a damp paper cloth. "Well, we're done with the cleanup. Come on into the living room."

"I really should be going." She followed him through the kitchen door.

"Just keep me company for a few minutes." He sat on the sofa and patted the space beside him. Fern left plenty of space between them when she sat. "You know, I've moved around so much the last few years that I really haven't had a home. I've kept my apartment in Chicago, but I've spent more time in hotels than I ever spent there."

"Won't you still be traveling?" Fern asked.

"Not as much. Since this region is going to be so large, I'm going to have an assistant manager. He'll be appointed as soon as we complete the next two acquisitions. He'll do most of the traveling, and I'll be able to stay here most of the time."

"Oh." That meant he would be in the office more than she had expected. She was so aware of him after only a few days. What would happen if she worked with him day after day?

He slid closer to her and placed his arm around her shoulder. She let herself lean against him, and against her best intentions, her head gravitated to his shoulder.

"Fern, what am I going to do about you?" The words were spoken so softly that she barely heard them.

Suddenly he turned to face her. His hands reached up and cupped her face, and he pulled her toward him. The brush of his lips was gentle and tentative at first, but soon passion flared. Her arms went around his neck of their own volition, and she opened her lips to deepen the kiss.

Omigosh, what was she doing? She couldn't let her boss kiss her. Let him kiss her? She was kissing him back with more passion than she had believed possible. She pulled away and smoothed her clothing.

Jumping up from the couch, she grabbed her purse and started toward the door before Pen had caught his breath. "What time do you want me to pick you up in the morning?"

"Fern, look . . . I didn't mean for that to happen. I'm—"

"Thanks for dinner. I'll see you in the morning. Seven o'clock okay?" She reached for the doorknob as she spoke, deliberately looking away from Pen.

Please, don't let him say anything about her wanton response to his kiss. He was probably just going to give her a friendly peck to thank her for helping him move. Her response had probably embarrassed him. She couldn't bear to think about it, much less talk about it.

"Seven o'clock is fine." From the sound of Pen's voice, no one would believe they had been engaged in a passionate kiss only a few seconds before. "Thanks for helping me move."

After her hasty departure, Fern berated herself all the way home. In her dreams, Pen was the one to pull away. She was glad she had come to her senses in time. She had pulled away before Pen could reject her.

She had saved herself from total humiliation tonight, but what would happen tomorrow?

The next morning, Pen's normal behavior helped Fern overcome her feeling of awkwardness. He seemed to have forgotten that kiss. He probably hadn't felt the tingling excitement that had flooded her body when their lips touched. His excitement over his new home must have overshadowed any thought he had of Fern's overreaction to what he no doubt considered a friendly peck of thanks.

Fern spent the morning scheduling appointments and planning her week. Engrossed in her calendar on the computer screen, she jumped when she felt Pen's hands on her shoulders.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I thought you heard me come in," he said.

Fern swiveled around in her chair to face him. "Oh, hi."

"I just got an e-mail from corporate. Mr. Walker, the plant service division president, had a mild heart attack over the weekend." At Fern's questioning look, he continued, "He'll be fine. In fact, he's expected to be out of the hospital in a few days, but he won't be able to return to work for two or three weeks."

"That's too bad, but I'm glad he's going to be okay. I've never met him, but I talked to him on the phone once during the negotiations to sell my company. He seemed very nice."

"He is, but he's also a hands-on manager." Pen stepped around Fern's desk and sat in her guest chair. "There's too much going on in Ultimate right now to leave the position empty while he's out sick. I've been called back to corporate to fill in for him for the next few weeks."

Although she tried to hide her surprise, Fern knew her mouth must have dropped open at Pen's announcement. "You mean you're going to be running the entire operation?"

"Don't sound so shocked. I told you I'm the most experienced regional manager—I'm the logical choice." He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "You'll be glad to know I'll be out of your hair for the next few weeks."

Of course, she was glad. Now everything in her office could go back to normal, even if only temporarily. She dismissed the heaviness she felt in her chest at the thought of Pen leaving. The breakfast tacos must have given her indigestion. "When do you leave?"

"On the first available flight. Maria's on the phone now making my reservation. I need you to drive me to the airport."

"Don't you need to go home first?"

Just then, Maria stood in the door to the office. "The next flight to Chicago is 10:20 A.M., and there's not another one until 2:10 P.M. I have the airline on hold—I wasn't sure you could make the first one."

Pen raised his left arm and looked at his watch. "That's just about an hour from now. Yeah, make a reservation for the early flight." He turned back to Fern. "Let's go. Obviously we have to go straight to the airport."

She rose and reached in her desk drawer for her purse. "Okay."

Maria finished her conversation with the airline as Pen picked up his laptop computer he'd left on her desk. She handed him a sheet of paper with his flight information. "Have a good trip, Pen."

Halfway out the door, he called over his shoulder, "Thanks, Maria. Tell everybody 'bye for me. I'll be back as soon as soon as I can."

On the trip to the airport, Fern watched her rearview mirror for police as she exceeded the speed limit and rolled through stop signs.

"That light was red."

Fern shook her head. "No, it just turned pink as I went under it."

"This isn't a race track. I'd like to arrive at the airport in one piece," Pen said through gritted teeth.

"You're the one who decided you could get to the airport and make it through the terminal to check in at the gate with less an hour before flight time." She couldn't take her eyes off the road to look at Pen. "But I'm sure it will be my fault if you miss the flight."

"It will be your fault if I miss the flight because your crazy driving causes an accident."

Even without looking at him, she felt his glare. "I suppose you're going to call me a crazy woman driver next."

She heard Pen take a deep breath. He said, "No, I'm not going to call you a crazy woman driver. I know you're a good driver. Haven't I trusted you to chauffeur me around all week?"

She nodded in response.

"You are driving awfully fast now, and you've already run a red light and a stop sign. We aren't in that much of a hurry. If I miss the first flight, I'll just have to take the one this afternoon." His voice was gentler than it had been all day.

"Maybe I overreacted a little, but I thought it was important for you to be on that flight." She nibbled on her lower lip.

"It is important but not important enough to risk an accident." Pen leaned over and tenderly traced the outline of her bottom lip. "And not important enough to destroy that gorgeous mouth."

Fern didn't know how to respond to his comment about her mouth, so she changed the subject. "What airline?" she asked. The terminal loomed in sight.

He opened the folded note from Maria. "American," he answered.

Fern pulled the car into a loading zone in front of the terminal. "Go on and buy your ticket. I'll park and meet you at the gate to make sure you get on the flight."

"I may already be on the plane when you get there." He leaned over and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Goodbye, Fern. I'll call you."

His face drew closer to hers. His kiss was brief but heated. He patted her cheek and disappeared before she could respond.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

As Pen had predicted, by the time Fern had parked and found the gate, his flight had departed. She barely caught a glimpse of the plane as it lifted off from the runway.

She couldn't understand the melancholy feeling she felt when she saw the plane disappear into the sky. Now she was free to manage the branch her way, at least for awhile. She wouldn't be bothered by that irritating, overbearing man for at least two weeks.

She should celebrate. Why didn't she have a huge smile plastered on her face? Why did she suddenly feel lonely?

She was probably just suffering a normal letdown after the hectic confusion of the last hour. She wasn't really lonely—she'd be fine as soon as she got back to the office.

Telling herself she didn't miss Pen was easy. Making herself believe it was impossible. She'd known the man for less than a week, for heaven's sake. He couldn't have become such an integral part of her life already, could he?

She accomplished little the next couple of hours. Lunch at a nearby restaurant seemed boring and bland alone, although she had been accustomed to eating alone before Pen arrived. After lunch, she met with the maintenance supervisor to discuss some changes Susan wanted to make in the maintenance schedule.

Finally, she could leave the office that seemed so empty without Pen in spite of the rest of the staff. She delivered a proposal to the attorney she and Pen had met last week. She would have felt more excitement returning to the office with the signed contract if Pen had been there to share the success.

She remembered how he had complimented her on her presentation on the first visit to the client. Then she remembered their next client visit—to the building with the severe insect infestation. The property manager had practically drooled over Pen, and he had given every appearance of loving her attention.

By the time she reached her office, she convinced herself there was no reason for her to miss Pen. He'd probably forgotten she even existed.

As she entered the office, Maria was speaking on the phone. "She's coming in right now, Pen. Just hold on a couple of minutes for her to get to her office." Maria pushed the hold button, and said, "This is the second time he's called."

"This is Fern," she said into the phone when she reached her office.

"It's about time. Where have you been?"

"I've been on a sales call. Did you think I decided to go off and play hooky just because the big, bad boss is gone?"

Her outburst was greeted with silence. Omigosh, she'd done it now. Pen was the acting president of the division. He'd overlooked her smart mouth before, but surely he would take action now. She tried to force her lips to form an apology, but her voice seemed to have quit working.

She heard Pen's sigh through the phone line. "Of course, I didn't think you'd gone out to play. I didn't mean to jump on you. It's just ... I needed to hear ... oh, forget it."

"Forget what? Why did you call?" Fern's heart expanded in her chest as she hoped the call was a signal that he missed her as much as she missed him. "Is something wrong?"

"Yeah, something's wrong. You're in San Antonio, and I'm in Chicago. Look, forget I said that. I just called to see if everything is okay." Pen sounded different, less confident, than his normal self.

"Everything's fine here. I just came in from meeting with Sid Epstein, and he signed the contract."

"That's great. Didn't he take any other proposals?" Pen sounded more normal now.

"He already had a couple, but he liked my idea of creating a wall of plants to divide the work areas. Apparently, the other proposals included only a couple of corn plants, and I recommended a combination of palms, peace lilies, and Chinese evergreens."

"You must have done a great sales job. Obviously, your price was higher than the competition." Even though two thousand miles away, Fern could picture the cocky grin that would accompany his comment.

"He said an original creative design was more important to him than price, so he signed the contract immediately." Fern couldn't keep the pride out of her voice. "But what's happening in Chicago?"

"I've been at the office less than an hour. All I've done so far is meet with the corporate vice-president of development. He's the one who assigned me to this temporary position." He paused, and Fern could visualize him shaking his head. "I'll probably be here half the night just trying to figure out Mr. Walker's appointment schedule and filing system."

"I know you'll do a great job," Fern said.

"Do you really think so? I felt a lot more confident before I found out about all the projects going on right now."

Fern couldn't believe Pen had doubts about his ability to handle any situation, and she was even more surprised he shared those doubts with her. "Yes, I really think you'll do a great job. I wish I could help you."

"Maybe you can. Do you really want to help?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it. But I don't know what a lowly branch manager can do to help the acting president of Ultimate Plant Service, Inc."

"Will you stop talking like that? I've never said or done anything to belittle your position or build up my own. Have I?"

Fern felt a pang of guilt. "No, but I honestly don't know what I could do to help you."

"Just be a sounding board, and be honest with me." He laughed. "I don't need to worry you'll be a yes-man, or rather a yes-woman."

"I guess I've pretty well demonstrated I'll speak my mind. Sometimes I wish my brain would start working before my mouth. I know I tend to overreact." She leaned back in her chair and wrapped the phone cord around her wrist.

"Yeah, you do at that. But maybe I need somebody to keep my head on straight. I've just got here, and already I see it could be very easy to think I'm pretty important." He sighed. "Look, I have to go now. I'll call you at home tonight."

It was soon time for the workday to end, but Fern didn't relish the idea of driving home alone to an empty house. Even though she looked forward to Pen's call, she stayed in the office an extra hour, catching up on paperwork.

She thought of Pen when she stopped at a fast food drive through for a hamburger. Was she acquiring his taste for fast food, or was she just too apathetic to think of anything else?

The phone was ringing and the light was flashing on her answering machine when she arrived home. She sat the bag containing her hamburger on the coffee table, kicked off her shoes, and dropped her purse beside the shoes.

She picked up the phone as she sank into the sofa.

"Hello."

"You're home." The voice belonged to Pen.

"I just walked in the door. I stayed at the office awhile to catch up on paperwork." She stretched to loosen her tight muscles. "Are you still at the office?"

"Yeah, and it looks like I'll be here several more hours." He cleared his throat before he said, "You can just erase my messages from your answering machine without listening to them. I guess I was a little impatient."

Fern looked at the machine. "I have five messages on my machine, so I'll have to check them to see who left the others."

"Uh, they're all from me. Just erase them, okay?"

"Now you've aroused my curiosity." She opened the bag and took out the hamburger.

"I don't want you to get mad. And you will if you listen," Pen said.

"I'm more interested in eating right now. Excuse my munching. I'm eating a burger and fries." She took a bite while she gave him a chance to respond.

"I just finished a tuna sandwich a secretary brought me from the deli." She imagined his grimace. "It sure doesn't taste like the food we've been eating in San Antonio."

Was it just the food that was better in San Antonio or could he be speaking about the company too? She'd better change the subject. "What's keeping you at the office so late?"

He explained the projects that were now his responsibility. "The weekly corporate meeting is tomorrow. Every division president reports on his division, and I have to give the report for the plant service division. So I have to take a crash course tonight."

"Mr. Walker must have a system to keep track of all the projects. Did you check his DayTimer? That's where I keep mine."

"His DayTimer, huh? I never thought of that. I just looked in his files. Hold on a minute—let me check."

She heard paper shuffling, drawers opening and closing, and objects being moved around for several minutes before Pen returned to the line.

"Here's his DayTimer. Eureka! You're right. Here's a project planner with a page for every project. You're a genius!"

"Hardly a genius, but I'm glad I could help."

Pen began reviewing the various projects. Fern smiled at the excitement in his voice. "It's all here. No telling how many hours you've saved me. I knew you'd be a help."

He explained the projects to Fern, and she responded with questions and comments. The business dealings fascinated her, but Pen intrigued her far more than anything he said.

She stretched out on the couch and tucked a throw pillow under her head. She felt totally comfortable discussing corporate business with Pen, but the undercurrent of excitement never went away.

"Omigosh." She sat up on the couch as she looked at her watch. "Pen, it's after nine o'clock, and you're still at the office. We've wasted all those hours you thought you saved. We've been talking for over two hours."

When he answered, Pen's voice was unexpectedly tender. "I don't consider one minute of this time wasted. Do you?"

What could she say? She'd loved every second. "It wasn't a waste to me, but you're the one who left home this morning to go to Fern's-to the San Antonio branch and ended up in Chicago. You're the one with the big meeting tomorrow."

"But now I'm ready for the big meeting. I needed to organize my thoughts. I've been practicing on you."

She took a deep breath, ready to take offense again. Then he continued, "But it's more fun practicing on you than it will be facing the corporate bigwigs tomorrow. I'm going to imagine you sitting at the table, and I'm going to pretend I'm speaking directly to you."

"I'll be there in my imagination, but you won't need me. You'll do great on your own."

"Good night, Fern. Sleep tight. I'll call you as soon as the meeting is over."

"Good night. Good luck." She closed her eyes and blew a silent kiss into the phone before hanging up the receiver.

Fern told herself she could sleep an hour later since she didn't have to pick up Pen or stop for breakfast. The next morning, however, she found herself awake at the usual time. It had been her usual time for only a few days. Why couldn't she turn over and go back to sleep?

After several minutes of lying in bed wide awake, she got up and dressed. She arrived at the office early to use the computer to work on her speech for the Chamber of Commerce.

Since she was to speak about starting a service business, she remembered her early years in business. She'd made a lot of mistakes, but she'd taken pride in doing everything herself. She had prospected for clients through civic organizations, then she'd made the initial sales calls on likely prospects. She had prepared the proposals herself, and when a proposal was accepted, she was the one to pick up the plants from the wholesaler, put them in decorative containers, and deliver them to the job site. The following week, she returned to water and care for the plants.

She shook her head as she thought about how much had changed. Now she had a staff to do many of the tasks she used to do. Since she had sold to Ultimate, she knew her role would be even less significant. She hadn't realized how much she missed the early stages of her business development. Even though she had struggled with an erratic cash flow, as well as the strain of wearing several hats at the same time, her success depended totally on herself. Failure would have been her responsibility also, but she had never considered the possibility of failure.

She had never considered the consequences of growth, either. Fern's Fancies had grown from Fern to a staff of Fern and fourteen employees without conscious planning. Her speech seemed to write itself as she thought of what she knew now that she didn't know when she started business.

She was editing the first draft of her presentation when Maria called her to the phone.

"The meeting's over, and I did okay." Pen's voice carried the sound of relief that escalated to elation. "In fact, I did better than okay. I was superb, if I do say so myself."

Fern smiled in answer to the smile she envisioned on his face. "Of course, you're a very objective observer. And definitely modest and self-effacing."

"Yeah." He chuckled. "I'm also glad it's over. I was a little nervous, I guess."

Fern's pulse quickened. She couldn't believe he was sharing his vulnerability with her. "Hey, what's a presentation to a bunch of high muck-a-mucks to a guy who can eat a jalapeno pepper?"

Pen chuckled. "Nothing, that's what. What have you been doing this morning?"

"Working on my speech. You probably don't remember I'm the keynote speaker at a Chamber of Commerce workshop on starting a business."

"I remember. When is it?"

"Thursday morning." Smoothing the pages on her desk, she continued, "I hope it goes as well as your presentation did this morning."

"Hey, I owe you one. You were a big help to me last night. I'll listen to your speech on the phone tonight if you want to practice."

"Thanks, Pen, but I'm supposed to speak for forty-five minutes to an hour. I haven't timed it yet, but it's definitely too long for a phone call." Some rebellious part of her brain, or perhaps her heart, wanted him to say an hour wasn't too long.

"Well, I'll call you tonight anyway. I've got to run now—Mr. Walker's secretary is buzzing me."

He reluctantly hung up the phone to answer the secretary's summons. "Yes, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth handed him a stack of letters, saying, "You need to sign these so I can get them in this morning's mail."

He read the correspondence, asking pertinent questions to ensure he understood the purpose of each letter before signing it. Elizabeth stood in front of the desk, shifting her weight from side to side in an apparent attempt to hurry him.

She turned and rushed out of the office with the signed letters as soon as he handed them to her. If she hadn't been so impatient, he might have found himself thinking about Fern instead of signing the letters. When had she become so important to him?

Two months earlier, even two weeks earlier, he would have been thrilled at the chance to run the entire division. He was on the fast track to corporate success. This temporary assignment filling in for an ailing superior was a sign of his favor from the corporate powers.

Now he wondered if he really aspired to the corporate office. He was both financially successful and happy as a regional manager. He had an apartment, and San Antonio already felt like home. Was it the apartment and the job, or was it Fern Tate that drew him to San Antonio?

The phone rang. Duty called. He would forget Fern until tonight. Or if he couldn't forget her, he'd force himself to concentrate on his corporate responsibilities. He was in the corporate office in Chicago, not the branch office in San Antonio.

Fern, however, was in the branch office in San Antonio. She'd never before given any consideration to what happened in the corporate office. Now her thoughts kept drifting to Chicago, the corporate office, and Pen.

She was glad for the distraction when Maria told her the beneficial insects, the "good guy bugs," as Pen called them, had arrived. Although she'd read articles and seen pictures of the insects, she'd never seen a real live cryptolaemus before. The bugs were shipped in a small round cardboard container.

"It looks like a pint of barbecue sauce," Susan commented, as she came into the front office to investigate. "Have you seen the bugs yet?"

"Not yet. I don't know if we should open them before we go to the job site," Fern answered.

"How about just a quick peek? Just lift the lid a little, so we'll know what they look like."

Fern's curiosity overcame her caution, and she raised one corner of the lid. Small black bugs swarmed out of the tiny opening and flew toward the ceilings.

Although she immediately slammed the lid shut, hundreds of the insects had escaped. "They're heading for the lights. We've got to catch them!"

Maria punched the intercom button and screamed, "Everybody in the building—come quick. The bugs are loose! The bugs are loose!"

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"Turn off the lights!" Susan shouted, but no one did.

"Hurry, we've got to catch them!" Fern ordered.

The door burst open as Hannah and Jean from the office staff and Toby and Lee from the warehouse came running to help.

"Close the door! Close the door!" several people called at once.

"Don't let them out in the hall," a female voice shouted.

"What are we going to do?" The question came from another employee.

Fern stood on a chair and shouted. "Listen to me." Slowly the din quieted. "The instructions told us to release them at dusk because they fly toward the light. See, they're congregated on the light fixtures."

The employees looked upward. The fluorescent light fixtures were crawling with hundreds of bugs.

"How many of those things are there anyway?" someone asked.

"I have no idea how many escaped—I only opened a corner of the lid a fraction of an inch." A collective groan greeted her next statement. "There were supposed to be three thousand in the box."

Fern raised her hands for silence as the noisy conversations began again. "Lee, bring me some Spanish moss in plastic zipper bags. Toby, bring me the biggest flashlight we have. Be careful— "

The two men opened the door a crack and slipped through before Fern had finished her sentence.

When they returned, Fern explained her plan. Following her instructions, Maria turned out the overhead lights. Hannah pointed the strong beam of the flashlight into a corner of the room to attract the cryptolaemus. Susan held moss-filled plastic bags open. Toby, Lee, and Jean grabbed the insects with their bare hands and dropped them into the plastic bags.

"These critters can move!"

"Here, try this," Lee suggested and demonstrated catching a bug directly in the plastic bag.

"We'll never get them all," Jean complained.

"We have to," Hannah said. "I wrote a check for several hundred dollars for these little critters. They were close to fifty cents each."

Omigosh. Fern had forgotten how expensive biological insect controls were. How could she admit to Pen that her curiosity cost the company a significant amount of money?

"We're going to catch every one of them, even if it takes all night," she announced in a determined voice.

"It might take all year," Lee grumbled.

"How will we ever know if we've got them all?" asked Susan. "We can't open the lid again to see if all three thousand are there."

"Just keep catching. We're still a long way from finishing. I can still see lots of them. We'll get them all." Fern hoped she sounded more confident than she was.

Although it felt like the year Lee suggested it would take, it actually took only a few hours to gather the insects into a series of plastic zipper bags. The flashlight worked fine for many of the bugs, but the ones that had discovered the window were more difficult to catch. They weren't attracted to the flashlight because the window was brighter. They were almost impossible to pick up from the corners. Finally, however, there were only a few insects still loose.

"That has to be all of them," Hannah said. "I've shined the light all over the office, and I don't see a single bug."

Fern held her breath until they turned on the office lights and checked closely. "Okay, gang, that's it. Thanks. I'm sorry I caused such a fiasco."

"It wasn't your fault," Susan said. "I talked you into opening the box."

"Thanks, Susan, but it's my responsibility. After all, I'm supposed to the branch manager. I was as curious as you were. Well, our curiosity has certainly been satisfied now." She smiled at her employees. "None of us will ever again wonder what a cryptolaemus looks like."

Even during all the chaos, Fern's mind had continued to be filled with thoughts of Pen. He would see the humor in the situation, and she couldn't wait to tell him about it. Tell Pen? She couldn't do that. He was her boss. She couldn't admit to him what a stupid mistake she'd made.

Pen called her at home again that evening. She debated whether or not to tell him about the insects' great escape. Although she didn't want to admit how thoughtless she had been, she decided it would be better if he heard the story from her now rather than from someone else when he returned. Her staff had talked about the incident for the rest of the day, and they'd probably continue to talk about it for weeks. Nothing else so exciting had happened in a long time.

After Pen told her all about his day, even asking her advice on several decisions he had to make, he said, "So, tell me about your excitement today."

Had someone already reported to him? Surely her employees were too loyal to go behind her back. "What makes you think there's any excitement?"

She felt his husky laugh over the phone line from her head to her toes. "Fern, there's always excitement around you. I didn't have a dull minute when I was in San Antonio. It's a lot more fun to be around you than to be here in the corporate office."

Could he be saying what she so desperately wanted to hear? Did he mean he missed her as much as she missed him? Had he really enjoyed all those crazy stunts she'd pulled?

She took so long to answer Pen spoke again. "Fern, are you still there?"

"I'm here. I'm just trying to figure out how to tell you about the great escape of the good guys."

"What great escape? What good guys?" She could almost hear the confusion mixed with laughter in his voice.

"We got the cryptolaemus today. Remember, you called them "the good guys" when you were explaining how beneficial insects work." She had been sitting on the sofa, but she started walking around the room as she described the employees' frantic attempts to capture the elusive bugs. She laughed as she told him about digging the insects out of the window ledges.

Pen's deep laughter sounded through the phone line. In no time, their conversation consisted of laughter and giggles. "I can just imagine you standing on a chair and leading the charge. Those bugs didn't know what hit them."

Pen's laughter stopped as he realized he didn't know what hit him either. Fern had become entirely too important to him. He should be devoting all his energy and concentration to his corporate responsibilities. This temporary assignment was his big chance—his career was at a critical stage.

Yet all he could think about was a feisty, curvy, raven-haired bundle of energy. Their phone conversations had been the high points of the last two days. Fortunately, no one else seemed aware of his distraction. He was obviously still in favor with the corporate power structure. Somehow that didn't seem as important anymore.

He realized Fern was still talking. "Toby and Lee went to release the insects this evening. They called me a while ago to tell me everything went fine. The cryptolaemus went directly into the trees, so I guess their escape attempt didn't do any harm."

Pen assured her the bugs would be fine, then he ended the conversation. He had to figure out what was happening to him and, more importantly, what he was going to do about it.

He couldn't pursue any kind of relationship with Fern as long as they both worked for Ultimate. Corporate policy was strict about that—not even casual dating was allowed between managers and their subordinates. What he felt for Fern was far beyond casual, but he didn't know what her feelings were. He couldn't even explore her feelings now. He'd never force his attentions on her, but the company's sexual harassment policy wouldn't allow them to have a relationship even if they both wanted one.

Darn corporate bureaucracy and regulations anyway. He recognized employees needed to be protected from sexual harassment, but why did the policy assume any relationship between Fern and him would be harassment? Why couldn't they have a chance to explore their feelings for each other?

Surely Fern felt something for him. He'd felt her eyes on him often enough, and she'd insisted on helping him move. She'd seemed jealous when other women had given him signals they were available. That must mean she was interested in him, but how deep were her feelings?

One of them would have to leave the company for them to become romantically involved. He'd been working his way up the corporate ladder for ten years. Changing jobs would mean starting all over again at the bottom as well as learning new skills. Fern also had ten years invested in her business, and she obviously had a deep attachment to it. Was her attachment to the business stronger than her attachment to him?

He lay awake in the bedroom of his Chicago apartment for hours before he finally drifted into a restless sleep, only to be haunted by dreams of Fern—always enticing him and always just out of reach.

With no Pen and no escaping bugs, Wednesday seemed to last forever. Fern waited all day for a phone call from Pen. She tried to hide her disappointment, but she almost burst into tears when Maria expressed her puzzlement that Pen hadn't called. She stayed late at the office polishing her speech for the Chamber of Commerce workshop the next morning.

The phone rang about seven o'clock that night. Fern thought about ignoring it and letting the call go to the voice mail. After several rings, she shrugged and picked up the phone. It was probably her mother, and she'd keep calling if Fern didn't answer.

"When I couldn't get you at home, I figured you might still be at the office." At the sound of Pen's voice, a smile appeared on Fern's face, and she sat straighter in the chair.

"I'm working on my speech for tomorrow."

"That's what I figured. Have you had dinner?"

"Not yet. I'll probably pick up a burger on the way home."

"Hey, you're picking up my bad eating habits, but you've been a good influence on me. You'll be glad to know I ate healthy tonight. We went to a buffet, and I thought about your nagging when I piled the veggies on my plate."

She could tell from his voice that he was smiling, but she felt such a pang of jealousy at hearing we that she almost missed his comment about thinking of her.

"My nagging? I never nag. I just suggested you include something green along with all the processed foods." She grimaced as she thought about the salad and fruit he had bought. "Of course, I didn't know you were going to Chicago. I guess you'll have some spoiled food in your refrigerator when you get back, and it'll be all my fault."

Pen grinned to himself. There she went, overreacting again. "It wouldn't be your fault if it happened. You didn't force me to buy anything. But there's nothing to spoil. We ate the salad for dinner Saturday, and I finished off the bananas Sunday." He paused briefly. "Don't you want to hear about my dinner tonight?"

No, she didn't want to hear about dinner. She didn't want to know who was with him. He probably had a little black book filled with women's names. He'd have no problem getting a date even after being back in town only a couple of days.

"Hey, you're making me hungry. I haven't eaten yet, remember. I don't want to talk about food."

"I wasn't going to tell you about the food. I was going to tell you about the occasion."

"Oh. Sure, I want to hear about it." She forced interest into her voice. She'd never admit she was jealous. He could take out every woman in Chicago if he wanted to—he just didn't have to tell her about it.

"The CEO of Ultimate Corporation and two members of the board of directors took me to dinner." There was a dramatic pause before he said, "Mr. Walker is going to retire for health reasons. They offered me the job as President of Ultimate Plant Service."

Omigosh. She'd never imagined he would have such a powerful position. She should be glad—she'd be free of him. Instead of making her happy, though, the thought depressed her. Of course, that was because she'd still have a regional manager, and the next one might be worse. Pen really wasn't so bad. In fact, if she were honest, she'd have to admit he did an excellent job. He—

"Fern, Fern, Fern. Where are you? Don't you have any reaction?"

"I'm just flabbergasted. Congratulations, Pen. That's wonderful. I'm happy for you. I know you'll do a great job."

"Fern, I didn't accept the position." His voice was quiet and deliberate.

"What do you mean? Isn't this your dream?" She didn't even attempt to hide her shock.

"I used to think so. Ever since I joined the company, I've been working my way up the ladder. I spent the entire day with the management and board of directors of Ultimate Corporation. They showed me the entire operation of all the divisions. It was awe-inspiring. Then they explained the position and interviewed me. I told them 'no' then, but they didn't take my refusal seriously."

She shook her head, even though he couldn't see her. "I can see why. I don't understand myself."

"Fern, my entire adult life has revolved around my career. I've never even had a real home." His voice softened. "San Antonio feels like home to me. I'm happy as a regional manager. The powers-that-be finally accepted the fact that I want to remain the regional manager of the Southwest Region. That's where I belong."

"I-I don't know what to say."

Pen's laughter rang out. "That's a first. You always have something to say."

"If that's what you want, I'm happy for you." She was happy that he was staying in San Antonio. Maybe they'd have a chance to explore their feelings for each other. If Pen had any feelings for her—she certainly had feelings for him.

His voice became brisker, more authoritative. "Okay, now, it's time for you to get back to work. I want to hear your speech. Are you ready?"

"I've got the speech written, but I'm ready to go home. I'm starved, and I'm dying to get out of these clothes." She gasped when she realized what she'd said. "I mean, change out of my dress into something more comfortable."

"Okay, you go home, get something to eat, and," his voice deepened, "slip into something more comfortable. I'll call you in an hour, and you can practice your speech on me."

"You don't have to listen to the whole thing."

Pen interrupted. "I don't have to listen to anything, but I want to hear the whole thing. Okay? It's almost seven-thirty now. I'll call you at home at eight-thirty."

Fern mumbled "goodbye" and gathered her notes together. She went through the motions of turning off lights and setting the alarm, but she thought about Pen's incredible announcement. She continued to wonder about it as she drove home and ate dinner. Imagine him turning down the presidency of the plant service division. He'd said he felt at home in San Antonio. Could she possibly have anything to do with his decision?

Even if he was interested in her, the sexual harassment policy still prevented any kind of relationship between them. As long as she worked for Ultimate, as long as she continued to watch her baby be absorbed into the giant corporate blob—

What if she no longer worked for Ultimate? There would be no company policy keeping them apart if she wasn't an employee of Ultimate. But what choice did she have? She'd never had another job. She'd started her business in college. What else could she do?

The phone rang at exactly eight-thirty. When she answered, Pen said, "I hope you slipped into something more comfortable."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Fern glanced down at her shorty pajamas and blushed. "Do you really want to hear this speech? I timed it earlier. It's about fifty minutes."

"Ah, you're ignoring my question. I just want to be sure you're comfortable. And, yes, I really do want to hear every word of your fifty minute speech. Do you have a speaker phone?"

Fern assured him she did and positioned the phone on the coffee table. She sat on the sofa and began speaking. After a few awkward minutes, she almost forgot Pen was listening on the other end of the phone line. She stood and spoke with gestures as if she were really in front of an audience. When she came to the end of her talk, she heard the sound of applause coming over the phone.

"That was great," Pen said in a voice that convinced her of his sincerity. "I expected you to be good, but I didn't realize you were a born public speaker."

Pen's praise sent warmth and tingles of excitement through her whole body. "Thanks. I hope the new business owners who'll be in the audience tomorrow are as enthusiastic as you."

The next morning, the audience greeted her speech with loud applause. After the program ended, attendees surrounded her and bombarded her with questions. Finally, after a whispered request from the program moderator, she interrupted the constant stream of questions.

"I'm sorry I can't answer any more questions. The hotel needs to set up this room for another event."

"Would you answer more questions if I called you on the phone?" The question came from a man who had raised his hand repeatedly during the question and answer period.

"Unfortunately, I don't have the time to answer extensive questions on the phone," Fern answered. "Besides, I—"

She stopped herself before she blurted out that she was just an employee of Ultimate now and her employer probably wouldn't appreciate her spending their time answering questions for new business owners.

Suddenly she had an idea. She almost giggled as she pictured herself with a light bulb coming on over her head. She took a deep breath and forged ahead.

"Actually, I'm planning to start a consulting business. Why don't we make an appointment to discuss your business? Maybe I can help you."

They agreed on a meeting the following week. Fern almost giggled in excitement. Could this possibly lead to something?

"Ms. Tate. I might be interested in your consulting services. Can I meet with you also?" Fern didn't even remember seeing this woman in the audience, but she must have been there.

Three other people also asked for appointments. Fern shook her head in amazement as she left the hotel with five appointments scheduled with prospective clients for a business that didn't exist yet. Fortunately, with a little juggling, she'd managed to schedule all the appointments next Tuesday, so she'd have to take only one day away from her job with Ultimate Plant Service.

As she drove back to the office, she considered what she'd done. A career change would give her the opportunity to relate to Pen as a man instead of as her boss. She wouldn't have to experience all the changes her business was undergoing if she didn't work there anymore. She could present workshops similar to what she had done today, with the money going to her instead of to the Chamber, as well as offer individual consulting to small businesses. Could this be the answer to her dilemma?

Pen called moments after she returned to the office. She shared the success of her speech, but she didn't mention the consulting appointments. Not only had she made the appointments on company time, she didn't know if anything would develop or not. She'd rather he not know if her idea didn't work out.

After Pen's phone call, she made arrangements to take a day of personal leave the following Tuesday to keep her appointments. She planned to explore this opportunity on her own time.

Finding her own time proved more difficult than she anticipated. She spent an hour at the library that evening researching the consulting business. Pen called every night, and she couldn't come up with an excuse to be gone all evening.

She had lunch on Friday with a fellow Chamber of Commerce member who had a consulting practice specializing in financially troubled businesses. Since she planned to target her practice toward new businesses, they wouldn't be in competition. He shared his experiences and offered her advice.

She fought the urge to share her excitement with Pen. He'd enjoy hearing about her getting free advice from a consultant on how to start a consulting practice. No one else she knew would enjoy the irony of that the way Pen would.

They spoke twice on Friday—once during the day at the office and again in the evening at home. Pen shared his frustrations and impatience to return home.

"I have to wear a suit and tie every day. What I wouldn't give to be back in San Antonio in jeans and T-shirt."

Fern shared her mundane daily activities, but she carefully avoided mentioning her possible career change. If it didn't work out, Pen would never know she'd even considered it. If it did work out—well, she'd tell him then.

The weekend finally arrived. Fern took her mother shopping on Saturday, and then spent several hours at the library. She spent almost as much time talking to Pen Saturday night.

"Omigosh." Fern had the TV playing softly in the background. She jumped when she heard the ten o'clock news come one. "We've been talking for two and a half hours. Your phone bill is going to be atrocious. I'd better go."

"Don't worry about the phone bill. I'm lonesome, darn it. I need to talk to you." Pen hadn't meant to say that. "Never mind. We have talked a long time. I'll call you tomorrow after church."

Fern said goodbye, and Pen leaned back in bed. Although he hadn't meant to tell her that he was lonely, he missed her more than he'd ever thought possible. He couldn't even remember what they talked about for so long, but he sensed Fern was hiding something.

She'd start to say something, then stop and say something different. She'd taken too long to get home from work each evening. She didn't have to explain herself to him, but, darn it, he'd changed his career plans for her. Had he made a mistake?

No, he'd made the right decision. These few days in the corporate office had proved to him he belonged in the field. He wanted to be a regional manager in San Antonio, with or without Fern.

If the fates were kind, he would be with Fern. He was going to do his best to develop a relationship. She had become the most important thing in his life.

She couldn't know that. He'd been hiding his feelings for her. Hiding his feelings. Fern was hiding something from him. Could she be hiding the same kind of feelings? Feelings was too mild a word for what he felt.

Every time he heard that sexy voice or looked into those gorgeous eyes, he felt weak and powerful at the same time. The respect and admiration he felt for her strength and her intelligence was as strong as the desire that flooded his body at the thought of her. She was such fun to be with—he knew he laughed more when he was with Fern than he ever had before. He could think of only one word to describe his emotions—love.

Meanwhile, Fern was struggling with her own feelings. She slumped on the sofa, exhausted from the effort of keeping her consulting plans secret. She'd mutilated her bottom lip as she started to share her excitement with Pen, then caught herself in time. She had no desire to tell her mother or anyone else—the only person she longed to share her news with was Pen.

She had never responded to any other man the way she had to him. Her physical reaction was so powerful she realized she'd never felt real desire before. Even over the phone line, his voice did strange things to her insides. He was smart and, best of all, he shared her sense of humor. She wouldn't be bored in a lifetime spent with Pen. A lifetime—that's how long she wanted to be with him. No doubt about it—she was in love.

Sitting in church Sunday morning, Fern lost track of the sermon. She imagined herself walking down the aisle in a long white dress to meet Pen. She could see his tender look and feel his kiss after the minister said, "I now pronounce you husband and wife."

The sound of the choir singing the anthem interrupted her fantasy. She shook her head and forced herself to concentrate on the service.

Pen called after lunch. She told him, "The minister and several other people asked about you. I told them you'd be back but I didn't know when."

"I'm hoping I'll be back early next week. When I turned down the president's job, I asked the powers-that-be to send me back to San Antonio as soon as possible. They can replace me with somebody who's a candidate for the permanent job."

As eager as she was to see him, Fern hoped he wouldn't return until she had made a decision about becoming a consultant. "Don't they want you to stay until they hire somebody else?"

"They might want that, but they agreed to send me home." Fern heard the impatience in his voice.

After the phone call, Fern worked on a business plan for a consulting practice. Since she would meet with clients at their businesses, she could work from home. Her spare bedroom would make an ideal office. She would need a computer, fax machine, and copier, but she could afford to use some of the money she'd received from the sale of her business to purchase this equipment.

She became more excited as she realized her plan could work. She jumped up from the table and danced around the room singing off-key.

"Hello," she answered the phone, still out of breath from singing and dancing.

"Did I interrupt something? You sound out of breath," Pen said.

"I was—" She couldn't tell Pen what she was really doing. "I was exercising."

"Ready for a rest?" he asked.

"Sure." She settled on the sofa and bit her lip to keep from sharing her excitement.

When Pen asked her what she'd been doing all afternoon, she told him she'd been reading. After a brief struggle with her memory, she recalled a book she'd read a few weeks ago. That started a discussion of books that led into a conversation about movies that led into a dialogue about other forms of entertainment.

After they said "good night," Fern was awake far into the night. Would her alternate career plan work? If it did, would she have a chance for a future with Pen?

When Pen called the office Monday, he said he had to keep the call brief. He was on his way to a meeting, but he'd have all evening to talk. Fern felt her stomach knot in anxiety. How would she explain her absence on Tuesday? She had to warn him. She didn't want anyone else to have to tell him she wasn't at work, but she couldn't tell him the reason for her absence.

She looked at her appointment schedule for Tuesday and verified she had a long break in the middle of the day. Slowly she reached for the phone on her desk and dialed.

When her mother answered, Fern said, "Guess what? I have some free time tomorrow. I'll take you to that new store in the mall, and we'll have lunch."

"You never take me anywhere during the week. What's going on?"

"I just realized that I have both morning and afternoon appointments close to your apartment and the mall. Since I have a couple of hours free in the middle of the day, I thought we could take advantage of it. You said you'd like to see the new store."

Fern gnawed on her lower lip while her mother expounded on Fern's failures as a daughter. Finally, she agreed to lunch and a trip to the mall with Fern.

When Pen called that evening, Fern told him, "I'm taking the day off tomorrow. I have a lot of leave, and I need to do some things with my mother."

"Will it take the whole day?" Pen sounded petulant.

"Yes, it will take all day." She felt a pang of conscience—she didn't want to lie to Pen, but she couldn't tell him what she was doing.

Pen curled his hand into a fist and hit the bed. He didn't know what she was hiding, but he didn't like it one bit. He had to get back to San Antonio and find out what she was doing.

"Okay. I'm coming home Wednesday morning. I need you to pick me up at the airport at eleven-ten. Can you do that?"

He remembered the last time she'd picked him up at the airport. His first sight of her had knocked him for a loop, and he didn't think he'd ever recover. He could hardly wait to see her again.

"You mean you're asking. I recall not too long you didn't give me any choice. You just sent me an e-mail message telling me to be there." He could hear the smile in her voice. "I wasn't happy about it, either."

"No kidding. Are you any happier about it this time since I asked instead of ordered?" He kept his voice casual, but he held his breath for her answer.

"Of course. It's always nicer to be asked than told." The voice that haunted his dreams dropped even lower. "In fact, I'm happier about it because I'm looking forward to seeing you again."

He felt his heart expand with emotion. He might be reading too much into that simple sentence, but he hoped she was as eager to see him as he was to see her. He had to change the subject or he might say something that could jeopardize his job.

"Did I tell you about the corporate reaction to my jeans?"

"No." She felt a warm tingle throughout her body as she recalled her own reaction to Pen's jeans, or rather her reaction to Pen in his jeans.

"The driver who picked me up at the airport was horrified to see me arrive in jeans and without luggage. He offered to take me home to put on a suit. Since a trip to my apartment would take nearly two hours, I told him just to take me to the corporate office." He laughed.

Fern smiled to herself in response. "So, what happened?"

"When we got to the office, Mr. Walker's secretary strongly suggested I change into one of the suits hanging in the closet in his private bathroom. It was so tight I could hardly breathe and I couldn't even button the coat. I'm sure I looked like a stuffed sausage."

"Wouldn't it make more sense to stay in your jeans? At least they fit," Fern said. And how they fit!

"To you and me, maybe. Apparently not to the powers-that-be. One of the vice-presidents told me, 'How fortunate Walker left suitable clothing in his closet. If the CEO had seen you in those awful denims, he would have shipped you back to the wilds of Texas immediately.'"

Fern laughed as heartily as he hoped. No woman he'd ever dated would have found that much humor in the situation. Their shared sense of humor showed how perfectly matched they were.

Fern's laughter subsided when she realized she was fantasizing about sharing Pen's anecdotes for the rest of her life. She couldn't afford to think about him now. Tomorrow had to be a success.

"I have an early appointment tomorrow. Uh, I mean I need to get to my mother's early. Goodnight, Pen."

"I'll call you tomorrow night. Goodbye." Darn. What was she hiding?

Fern stood holding the receiver for several seconds after Pen had hung up. She blew a kiss and pretended there was still some kind of connection between them.

The next morning, she took a deep breath as she walked through the doors of the insurance agency to meet her first prospective client. She hoped she looked more confident and professional than she felt.

After the third appointment, she felt her confidence increasing. Although the three companies were different, they all faced similar problems and decisions. She was convinced she could use her experience with her own company to help them grow their businesses.

Grow their businesses. She was going from growing plants to growing businesses. Pen would love that.

One of the prospects agreed to contract with her right away. Although the other two didn't make a commitment, they asked her to contact them in a few weeks.

Even a trip to the mall and lunch with her mother didn't dim her enthusiasm.

"You sure seem to be in a good mood," her mother said. "Is your job going any better?"

"Yes, Mom, it's going fine." She wouldn't tell her mother anything about changing careers until it became a reality.

After she drove her mother home, she went to her afternoon appointments. They were as successful as the morning appointments had been. She would have to struggle to start a consulting practice, but she believed she could be successful.

She'd never become a huge national company, but she knew she would be happier working independently. The risks, the successes, and the failures would be hers and hers alone. She wouldn't have to deal with a corporate bureaucracy, and there wouldn't be any reason she couldn't have a relationship with Pen. That is, if he wanted a relationship.

He wouldn't call her every day and talk for hours if he didn't care for her, would he? He wouldn't share his fears and worries and career plans with just any branch manager, would he?

That evening on the phone, he told her how glad he was to be leaving the corporate office and coming home. She managed to steer the conversation away from her day by asking him every question she could imagine.

At the office the next morning, Maria asked her, "Are you okay? You seem awfully nervous today."

"I'm fine." She made a face. "I spent yesterday with my mother. She's not exactly the easiest person in the world."

Maria just nodded, but her expression was curious.

A feeling of déjà vu came over Fern as she stood in the terminal waiting for Pen. Only two short weeks before, she hadn't even known him. She smiled to herself when she remembered her first impression of him. The real Pen was so different from the image she had created in her mind.

She felt his gaze before she saw him. His eyes seemed to burn into her skin. She couldn't quite describe the look in his eyes—longing, anxiety, love—or a combination of them all. She knew her own eyes reflected the same emotions. Their gazes locked for an eternity.

She started moving slowly toward him. Suddenly they were both running. He set the briefcase with his laptop computer on the floor.

Before she realized what she was doing, Fern ran into Pen's open arms. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. When he saw her smile, he said, "I've missed you so much. Does this welcome mean that you missed me as much?"

Fern couldn't seem to talk. She only nodded, her head resting on his chest.

"We have to talk." He slowly released her, but he kept one arm around her waist. He picked up his briefcase and started walking through the terminal. "Let's get my bags, then go somewhere quiet."

They didn't speak again except to point out luggage or give directions to the car.

As she drove out of the parking lot, Fern said, "I have a casserole in the oven. How about going to my place for lunch? I told Maria we wouldn't be back at the office until mid-afternoon."

She looked straight ahead at the road. She gripped the steering wheel as a drowning woman would grip a life raft. What if she'd misread his feelings? She might be on her way to making a fool out of herself. What did he want to talk about?

Pen looked at her from across the car. He had to touch her again. He slid across the seat and laid his hand on her thigh. Her breathing became irregular, just like his. "Your place sounds fine."

He wouldn't start a serious discussion in the car. Talking would have to wait a few minutes, but he had to be close to her. Gradually he felt her relax and her breathing return to normal.

She turned into a driveway of her small duplex. They got out of the car and walked silently hand in hand into the house. Pen felt surrounded by warmth. This felt like home. He didn't bother to look around. He led Fern to the sofa and gently pushed her into the cushions, then he sat beside her.

"I don't know how to say this, Fern, but we have a problem." His heart missed a beat at the look of surprise on her face. "Maybe I'm out of line here. You don't agree we have a problem?"

Even speaking with hesitation, Fern's voice had the power to reduce him to a quivering mass of sensation. "What kind of a problem?"

She sat on the edge of the sofa, not looking at him and avoiding his touch.

"That darn sexual harassment policy. I can't even ask you out on a date without risking my job. I'd never use my position to try to force a relationship between us, but as long as I'm your boss, I can't even find out if you're interested in a relationship."

He jerked into a standing position when she said, "You won't be my boss for long." Before he could overcome his shock enough to ask her to explain, she continued, "My letter of resignation is on your desk. Of course, I'm giving the standard two weeks' notice."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Fern stood beside him and took his hands. "If you'll sit down and shut up, I'll tell you all about it."

Pen threw back his head and laughed. "Ah, Fern, you're good for me. Nobody else would tell me to sit down and shut up." He caressed her palms with his thumbs. "And I wouldn't do it for anybody else either."

"I couldn't stand being with you all day as an employee." She told him about her experience at the Chamber of Commerce workshop and her research into the field of consulting.

"So that's what you've been hiding from me," Pen mused.

"You knew?"

"I knew you were hiding something. I imagined all sorts of things it could be, but nothing even remotely close. Go on—tell me all about it."

She explained she had made a commitment to begin work with her first client in three weeks. "That'll give me one week to organize my office after I leave Ultimate. And I'll only be working with one client for a while, so I'll have time to develop the business."

"It sounds like you have everything planned. You know when you're quitting your job, when you're setting up your office, and when you're starting with your first client. I only have one question." He took a deep breath and breathed a silent prayer before he asked, "When are you going to marry me?"

The voice he'd fallen in love with on the phone asked, "When are going to ask me?"

"I'm asking you now." He slid off the couch and onto one knee on the floor in front of her. "I'll even go down on one knee and do it right."

Fern's laughter tickled the nerve endings throughout his body. "Get up from there and take me in your arms. You know you've never even given me a real kiss. I'll marry you as soon as you prove you can really kiss me."

Pen's laughter mingled with hers, and he imagined the mingled sound of their laughter ringing through the years for the rest of their lives.

He stood and took her in his arms. "Oh, I can really kiss you all right. I've had plenty of practice. I've done it at least a million times in my dreams."

The kiss went on and on. Finally, Fern raised her head and said, "You've proved you can kiss me, but I think we need about fifty more years of practice."

Pen laughed and hugged her tight. "Fine with me. Let's get started," he said, and that's exactly what they did.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Lillie Ammann always dreamed of writing "someday." A devastating stroke made her realize she didn't know how many "somedays" she had. As soon as she was physically able, she started writing. In 1996, she sold her interior landscape company to a large national corporation and started her new career as a freelance writer and editor. Lillie lives in San Antonio, Texas with Jack, her husband of more than four decades. Learn more at www.lillieammann.com.
