Page 6 of Her Irish Boss

Two men turned around as she entered, both smiling ingreeting before focusing back to their jobs. Tools and an air compressor sat in the middle of the room as part of the air conditioning unit was dismantled.

Great. Now she had to waste another ten minutes making it to the bathroom across the freaking restaurant and back. And in front of everyone. She wrinkled her nose and glanced at the men in the corner. No. She couldn't change in here.

She stepped into the hallway. Mr. O'Keeley's office sat directly across from the break room, door open, and his desk empty. It would take two seconds to change shirts. Not second-guessing herself, she darted into the empty office and pushed the door closed.

In a world record, she snapped off her pink tank top and slipped into her white work shirt. She unzipped her skinny jeans, tugging them low enough down her hips to get her shirt tucked into them. She turned to leave and froze as her eyes swept the room.

The office wasn't empty.

Three very attractive, very Irish, men watched from a small sitting area off to the side. A large leather sofa and two chairs were angled around a coffee table. Good time to realize the office was more prominent than just a square box and all the owners had decidedthatmorning to hold a meeting.

“Sorry?” She winced when her eyes locked with her boss's agitated glare. Of the three men, he was the only one not smiling, which was a good thing. The two times she'd seen him smile had resulted in her physically drooling onto her shirt. She didn't have a spare shirt to change into this time.

“I'd like to introduce Selena Chapman,” he said, his flat, even voice laced with disapproval. He could join the club ofmen who disapproved of her for one reason or another. First, it was her father and then her long-time, now ex-boyfriend. She never truly understood why her father left. Her mother's explanations were always hard to comprehend with half a bottle of vodka in her system. And her ex-boyfriend—well, he left for a very apparent reason. She wasn't good enough.

“Selena, I'm not sure you've met my brothers.” They all stood. Mr. O'Keeley, her boss, pointed to one that was barely an inch taller than him but thinner. Like a runner. He wore a black shirt that fit his toned frame with a pair of blue jeans. “This is Rian O'Keeley.”

Oh, God. He was a famous chef.

Mr. O'Keeley half-way waved in the direction of the other one, almost dismissively. “Cathal.”

Cathal had a devilish smile. Damn. With his looks and presumed Irish accent, women probably threw themselves at him. His blue collared shirt tucked neatly into chinos, hugged his shoulders and highlighted his eyes even from a distance. Did it hurt to be that pretty?

And why, as the other two brothers watched with amusement, did she have to be attracted to the one with the grouchy disposition?

“Unless either one of you would like to take over the employee side of management, do you mind if I have a word with Selena in private?”

Rian held his hands up. “Have at it. I'm going to check the kitchen. Nice to, um, meet you, Selena.”

Her face flamed. “You, too.” Nothing like showing all three of your bosses your unsexy white bra before lunch. And underwear. She closed her eyes for a brief second. She'd pulled down her jeans, too.

Cathal didn't budge. He wasn't looking at her; he watched his brother with humor.

“Since that sounds like actual work,” he said after the long pause, his accent thicker than the other two, “I think I'll leave you to it.”

“Good idea,” Mr. O'Keeley answered, crossing his arms the way he always tended to do. His suit jacket was laid over the back of the chair, and white shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. How could just his tan forearms cut with muscle attract her?

She waited for Cathal to leave and then took one, two steps forward. “I really am sorry.” She hitched a thumb over her shoulder. “There were two men in the break room fixing the air conditioner, and I thought I could slip in here and change so I can put my tank top back in the locker room and not have to make two trips, one to the bathroom and one back to put my shirt up. I wanted to start work as soon as possible without calling a bunch of attention to myself.” She bit her bottom lip as he watched her another moment in silence. She'd caused herself too much attention already.

“About that. We need to talk about your timeliness.”

The air in her body rushed out. Now was the point where he fired her. She'd held this job for six months, longer than the others. And she liked it. She was good at it. Not having a college degree limited her choice of employment. And men. Jacob had made that clear enough. Sophisticated men like her boss, who reminded her of an angry bull at the moment, didn't date girls from the other side of the tracks which might embarrass them. She'd embarrassed her ex enough times to learn that lesson the hard way.

But her boss didn't want to date her. He wanted to fire her. She would not let that happen without a fight.

“Please, don't fire me. I really need this job.”

“I want you to try and be here by nine thirty in the morning from now on.”

“Nine thirty?” He didn't want to fire her? She thought about the extra forty dollars for the cost of the nurse. Could she pull that off with her budget?

“Yes. That way, you might get here by eleven.” He smirked. And damn if that wasn't just as sexy. “I'll pay you for the time that you're here. If you show up before your shift starts, then you'll help where needed to prep for the day. Full wage, not as a waitress.”

“How much?”

His chin raised slightly. Now that she was openly staring at her sexy boss, she realized his nose was a little crooked like it'd been broken once or twice. Probably some uptown accident. There was no way Mr. O'Keeley would lower himself to an actual fight. He was too high-class for that. Might get his perfectly pressed suit wrinkled. Or mess up his neatly combed dark brown hair.

“Twenty-five.”

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