Excerpt of Strictly Lonergan's Business by Maureen Child

"It's really easy," Kara Sloan told herself, giving her own reflection a narrow eyed glare in the rear view mirror. "He opens the door, you say 'I quit."

Right.

If it was that easy, she'd have said those two little words six months ago. Heck. A year ago.

The minute she'd realized she'd made the huge mistake of falling in love with her employer.

The trouble was, every time she was anywhere near her boss, Cooper Lonergan, her brain shut down and her emotions took over. One look from the man's dark brown eyes and she turned into a puddle of goo.

She still wasn't sure how this had happened.

Heaven knew she hadn't planned it. She'd been the man's assistant for five years, and for four of those five, everything had been great. They'd had a comfortable friendship and easy working relationship. Until it suddenly dawned on her nearly a year ago, that she was in love with him.

And ever since that day, she'd been miserable. She couldn't even get mad at Cooper for not noticing that her feelings had changed. Why would he? To him, she was as familiar a sight in his life as the dark red leather sofa in his living room at home. And just as comfortable.

This situation was her own fault. She'd changed the rules and he didn't even know it. She was in love and he was in like.

Not a good thing. "Which is why," she said sternly, still meeting her own wide green eyes in the rental car mirror, "you have to quit. Just suck it up, face him down and say it."

She inhaled sharply, blew out a breath and nodded grimly. She could do this. She would do this.

Muttering darkly, she swung her legs out of the car, slammed the door and then stared up at the big yellow Victorian farmhouse Cooper had rented for the summer. It looked...welcoming, somehow. As if the house had been waiting for her.

Silly, but she was sorry she wouldn't be staying. Sorry she'd have to leave and go back to New York in just two weeks. There was something about this place that 'spoke' to her.

It sat far back on a wide, manicured green lawn and several old shade trees surrounded the structure. Window panes glinted in the morning sunlight, fresh flowers in terra cotta pots lined the porch, their bright summer colors dazzling in the morning light.

She inhaled sharply, deeply, enjoying the scents of freshly mowed grass and the hint of the ocean, just a few miles away. Kara had always considered herself a city girl. Happy in Manhattan, she loved the rush and crush of the crowds, the blaring symphony of horns and shouted insults from the cabbies who drove as if every mile made was a personal victory.

But, she thought, there was something to be said for this, too. The quiet. The color. The lazier pace.

No point in getting used to it, though.

Her three inch heels wobbled slightly on the crushed gravel driveway, and she thought that was only appropriate. Hadn't she been off balance around Cooper all year? Besides, if she'd had any sense, she'd have traveled in jeans and sneakers. But no...she'd had to look good when she saw him. Not that he ever noticed what she was wearing.

Gritting her teeth, Kara silently admitted that Cooper wouldn't notice if she had shown up naked.

Which, she reminded herself sternly, was exactly why she had to quit her job. It was just too hard. Too miserable to be in love with a man who only saw you as the world's most efficient assistant.

"My own fault," she muttered, turning her back on the house to walk to the rear of the car. She pushed a button on the rental car key ring and the trunk slowly opened like a coffin lid in an old Dracula movie.

They worked well together, had a lot of laughs, and Kara had had the satisfaction of knowing that she did her job so well, he couldn't get along without her. Then she'd messed it all up by changing the rules.

She wasn't even sure when it had happened. When she'd stopped looking at Cooper like an employer and started having X-rated dreams about him. He'd slipped up on her. Sneaked under her defenses. Damn it, he'd made her fall in love with him without even trying and didn't even have the decency to notice.

That's why she had to quit. Had to get out while she still could. It was, as her best friend Gina had put it just the night before, a freaking emergency.

Gina had taken her out for drinks and given Kara the pep talk that apparently was considered the best friend's duty.

"You know darn well that man is never going to change."

"Why should he?" Kara challenged, stabbing the olive in her martini as if it were an alien out to take over the world. "As far as he's concerned everything is great. Fabulous."

"Exactly my point." Gina blinked at her, lifted one hand to signal the bartender for another round, then turned back to look at her friend again. "He's been in California what? Three days?"

"Yesss..."

"And he's called you like a hundred times already." True. Her cell phone, always on so that Cooper could get in touch with her whenever he needed to, had been ringing with alarming regularity. Kara checked her watch. Twenty minutes since his last call. He was due. "I work for him."

"Oh, it's way beyond that, Kara," Gina said, leaning across the glossy bar table until her long blond hair brushed the polished surface. "Last time he called, the man asked you how to make coffee. He's thirty something and can't make a cup of coffee without your help?"

Kara laughed. "He's thirty one and he can too make coffee. It's just terrible."

Gina was not amused. Shaking her head, she sat back. "You did this to yourself, girlfriend. You made yourself indispensable."

"That's a bad thing?" Kara reached for her fresh drink and turned her attention to the new olive.

"It is when Cooper Lonergan sees you like a well- programmed robot." Gina took a gulp of her apple-tini and then waved the glass in the air. "He doesn't see you. He never will."

"That's harsh."

"But true."

"Probably."

"So," Gina demanded, "What are you going to do about it? Stick around until you're old and alone and wondering what the hell happened to your life? Or get out now while you still can?"

And that, Kara thought now, reaching into the trunk, is the million dollar question. She knew Gina was right. Heck, she'd known the truth for the last year. She had no future with Cooper. At least, nothing beyond what she had now. And that just wasn't enough.

Not anymore.

A crisp, cool wind with the scent of the sea on it, swept across the yard, set the leaves on the trees dancing, and tossed her dark brown hair across her eyes. She plucked it back, blew out a breath and grabbed up both her suitcase, the small carry-on bag she'd filled with fresh bagels from Cooper's favorite deli, the gourmet coffee he couldn't write without, and five bags of marshmallow cookies.

The man had the palate of a ten-year-old. She smiled to herself, thinking, as she always did, that it was kind of cute how Cooper had to have his favorite cookies on hand at all times.

But she caught herself an instant later. Not cute. Annoying. Right.

Nodding to herself, she pledged that the minute she saw Cooper, she'd give him notice. Two weeks.

He could hire someone temporarily for this summer in California, then when he went home to Manhattan, he could find a more permanent replacement.

As for Kara, the sooner she got back to New York and what was left of her life...the better.

Grim determination fed her steps as she started toward the big house at the end of drive. With every wobble of her heels, she told herself over and over, It's just a job. You can find another, better one. You don't need Cooper.

She'd almost convinced herself when the front door flew open, the ancient screen door slapped against the wall of the house and Cooper Lonergan stepped out onto the wide front porch.

Tall and lean, he was wearing his New York uniform of black pants and black shirt. His features were sharp, angular and his black hair, just long enough to touch his shoulders, flew about his face like a dirty halo. His dark eyes glinted in the sun and when he smiled, Kara felt it deliver a solid punch to her belly. Probably had more impact because he didn't really smile all that often. But brother, when he did...

The man was mouthwatering.

Damn it. "Kara!" He took the five steps down to the yard in two long strides and crossed to where she was still standing, dumbstruck by the force of her own emotions. He swept her up into a brief, hard hug that lit up her insides like Times Square on NewYear's Eve, then let her go so abruptly, she staggered back a step.

"Thank God you're here."

A brief flash of something that might have been hope darted through her. "You missed me?"

"Boy, did I," he said. "You have no idea. I made coffee this morning and it pretty much tasted like I think motor oil with a dash of cinnamon would taste."