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Bachelor Boss
Pamela Ingrahm
MERGER IN THE MAKING…?Powerful CEO Philip Ambercroft prized efficiency, order–and no temptation in the office. So when he needed a temporary assistant, he decided to hire a no-nonsense, matronly type. But then he met the most qualified candidate….All-too-appealing Madalyn Wier had impeccable references and years of experience–and she soon had her handsome executive boss falling for her womanly charms. But Philip was determined to deny the attraction between them, especially since Madalyn was a single mother who had a daughter to consider. And the confirmed bachelor wasn't prepared to propose a marriage merger…was he?
Madalyn wondered what she’d gotten herself into. (#uc6c64b7f-340b-50a0-a085-1e73f5e1d451)Letter to Reader (#uc238de13-8d21-5f49-be76-5199c5f69fea)Title Page (#u5a0d8a3c-0553-56b2-8acc-d712644f30b2)Dedication (#ud17307ad-7811-5ff5-9d8a-97ff6e9f4ecc)About the Author (#uaaa5165e-3073-596c-b2d1-1d6d97cf06b0)Chapter One (#uc3668269-996c-5887-903f-df0763800393)Chapter Two (#uce4f840d-9597-5469-ab60-5b137181868b)Chapter Three (#ua150580e-c552-572b-8037-3492c5ecfe5b)Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Madalyn wondered what she’d gotten herself into.
She didn’t want to admit how nervous Philip’s proximity made her. She tried to tell herself it was because he was her new boss, not because he was so devastatingly handsome.
She reminded herself of what she’d accomplished by not letting emotion guide her decisions.
Actually, she’d let her emotions guide her once, but she’d learned....
Which was why she wasn’t going to read anything into this business trip. Except when she remembered the blaze of passion she’d seen in his eyes when she thought he was going to kiss her last night...and her own traitorous response.
Well, it wasn’t a problem, because she wouldn’t be with him in any situation remotely intimate again. She’d make sure of it. Even if there was an irresponsible, rebellious piece of her wishing for just one little kiss to satisfy her curiosity....
Dear Reader,
Silhouette Romance blends classic themes and the challenges of romance in today’s world into a reassuring, fulfilling novel. And this month’s offerings undeniably deliver on that promise!
In Baby, You’re Mine, part of BUNDLES OF JOY, RITA Awardwinning author Lindsay Longford tells of a pregnant, penniless widow who finds sanctuary with a sought-after bachelor who’d never thought himself the marrying kind...until now. Duty and passion collide in Sally Carleen’s The Prince’s Heir, when the prince dispatched to claim his nephew falls for the heir’s beautiful adoptive mother. When a single mom desperate to keep her daughter weds an ornery rancher intent on saving his spread, she discovers that McKenna’s Bartered Bride is what she wants to be...forever. Don’t miss this next delightful installment of Sandra Steffen’s BACHELOR GULCH series.
Donna Clayton delivers an emotional story about the bond of sisterhood... and how a career-driven woman learns a valuable lesson about love from the man who’s Her Dream Come True. Carla Cassidy’s MUSTANG, MONTANA, Intimate Moments series crosses into Romance with a classic boss/secretary story that starts with the proposition Wife for a Week, but ends... well, you’ll have to read it to find out! And in Pamela Ingrahm’s debut Romance novel, a millionaire CEO realizes that his temporary assistant—and her adorable toddler—have him yearning to leave his Bachelor Boss days behind.
Enjoy this month’s titles—and keep coming back to Romance, a series guaranteed to touch every woman’s heart.
Mary-Theresa Hussey
Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
Bachelor Boss
Pamela Ingrahm
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my agent, Linda Kruger.
What a joy it has been working with you!
Here’s to many more years
and many more books.
PAMELA INGRAHM lives in Austin, Texas, with the man of her dreams and their two children. She’s added to the mix one dog that thinks the human race was put here to love her, and Pamela swears she’s not doing anything to foster that notion. She also tells all who will listen how wonderful it is to live your dream.
Chapter One
As far as birthdays went, Madalyn Wier had had better.
If there was one thing that would salvage being thirty, a single mother and facing unemployment, it would be landing an executive assistant position at Ambercroft, Inc.
Madalyn craned her head back to look at the massive building standing as a testament to old money and exemplary architecture. The tip of the hundred-story-plus structure pressed into the Dallas sky, as if to say heaven itself made room for the Ambercrofts.
Crossing her arms against the brisk spring wind, she waited for traffic to clear. Obviously, the hospitality Texans were known for disappeared after four o’clock during the work week. At least in downtown Dallas....
Once across the street, she paused outside the heavy, leaded glass doors and adjusted her suit jacket. With a deep breath, she went inside and moved confidently to the reception desk... or as close to confident as she could manage. At least she hoped she looked confident.
The first thing that struck her as she waited for the receptionist to acknowledge her was that the woman looked agitated. While Madalyn knew well how harrying the job could be, somehow showing it didn’t seem...Ambercroft-ish.
She gave the woman time to answer a crush of phone calls and glanced around the lobby. Marble floors polished to a diamond sheen ended in walls of dark wood. A section of marble stretching to the vaulted ceiling framed the portraits of five generations of Ambercrofts, each representative impeccably dressed in a dark suit. The styles themselves were a statement to the duration of the family legacy, and it was a bit unnerving to be stared at by the daunting figures. Madalyn assumed that was the point—to make sure all visitors knew they were entering a bastion of power.
With each successive generation, the men became more handsome, but somehow increasingly stern. Until the portrait of the youngest, Philip Ambercroft. Philip Ambercroft IV, to be exact. While being by far the most handsome, he alone wore a Mona Lisa smile that easily caught her attention. Maybe it was because she’d seen so many photographs of him in everything from news weeklies to the tabloids, or maybe it was just her imagination, but he seemed to want the viewer to wonder just what was going on behind that intelligent face.
At a break in the incessant but muted ringing. Madalyn stepped forward. “Excuse me—”
“Ms. Fox is away for a minute. I’m from Accounting and just—” The woman jabbed at the telephone and gave Madalyn a less than warm look, as if the new call was her fault. “Reception. No, please hold.” Jab. “What do you need?”
“I’m here to apply for a position with—”
Jab. “Reception. Please hold.”
“—Mr. Ambercroft?”
“Mr. Ambercroft is on the twenty-first floor.”
“I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood—”
The ersatz receptionist held the receiver away from her ear and pinned Madalyn with a glare. “I said twenty-first floor.”
Recoiling from the angry, haughty look, and in no mood to argue, Madalyn headed for the bank of elevators nestled in granite. Maybe someone on the twenty-first floor could direct her to the personnel office with a bit more tact and grace.
It was at times like these that Madalyn wished she could take the risk and open her own nursery. At least roses and ficuses didn’t glare at you and get snippy. But that old dream was out of reach. She needed a steady paycheck and benefits now that she had more than just herself to think of.
The elevator ride up was smooth and quick, but then again, she was in the Ambercroft building, and machinery didn’t dare perform less than perfectly. When the doors slid open, she stepped out onto a sea of mint-green carpet that felt as though it had a mile of padding underneath. She allowed herself an entire minute of slack-jawed awe. A vacant secretary’s desk sat in front of her, bigger than any executive’s desk she’d ever seen, and state-of-the-art everything was neatly arranged on the exquisitely grained wood. The guest couch and chairs whispered upholstered elegance and the door off to the left fairly bellowed that this was the entrance to the inner sanctum.
Madalyn stifled a giggle when she envisioned a sleekly polished Miss Moneypenny type sitting behind that desk. But no Miss Moneypenny sat there now, and Madalyn was fairly certain this wasn’t the personnel department.
She was about to turn around and head back to the first floor to try again, when the door to the inner sanctum opened. Somehow, the way this day had gone, it didn’t surprise her in the least that Philip Ambercroft came out with a harried expression on his face, engrossed in something on the page he was holding.
He was so much more striking in person than in print, or oil and canvas for that matter, that Madalyn was startled. She’d heard the expression chiseled to define someone’s features before, but he was the first person she’d met who truly fit the description. European royalty was all she could think of to conceptualize the thoughts whirring through her head, but from what she knew through her extensive reading, she doubted such fiercely proud Americans as the Ambercrofks would appreciate the analogy. In fact, they were just as fiercely Texan.
He was almost on top of her before he pulled up short. He gave her a quick glance and turned toward the desk, his jaw snapping shut when he didn’t find the person he so obviously expected to be there.
“Just have a seat. I’ll be right back.”
Without another word, he entered the elevator and punched a button, leaving Madalyn with the lingering trace of his crisp, clean cologne.
When she finally remembered to breathe, she took a seat as instructed. She didn’t have much choice. Her knees had just given out.
Not five inches from her. Philip Ambercroft had been not five inches from her. She’d been close enough to see the light-colored flecks in his blue eyes. She could have reached out and touched the lock of midnight-black hair that had fallen rakishly over his forehead and discovered if it was as velvety soft as it looked. Her fingertip could have traced the slight bow of his strong, upper lip—
“Get a grip, Madalyn!” She said the words aloud to give them more impact. The fact that her fingers trembled as she swiped them across her forehead didn’t give her much confidence. She had to get herself together before she blew it completely.
Praying Mr. Ambercroft would stay gone for a few minutes, she worked on composing herself. The open position was with Gene Ambercroft, not Philip, so that was two mistakes she could thank the pseudo-receptionist for—me wrong floor and the wrong Ambercroft, but there was no sense in getting frustrated. She could just chalk it up to a day full of frustrations.
Now that she’d seen him, in the flesh, she couldn’t get her mind off Philip Ambercroft. She could admit in the privacy of her own mind that she—along with about ten million other Americans—had an intense curiosity about the Ambercrofts. They were American royalty, and the press treated them accordingly.
Unlike the female population of America, though, she was fascinated by the business tycoon Philip, not his playboy brother. She wouldn’t mind working for Gene, but it was the oldest Ambercroft brother who had captured her imagination from the first article she’d ever read on the famous family.
There was something about him, something intriguing, that was so much more interesting than mere sex appeal. While definitely as sexy as his baby brother, Philip was the one who exuded confidence and grace, not mere raw testosterone—at least in her opinion. She decided that wasn’t really fair to Gene. It was the reporters who concentrated on his dating life. She doubted anyone really wanted their every move cataloged in a magazine, although Gene knew how to play the paparazzi and keep them among his adoring throng. They didn’t seem to bother him here at home, but loved to follow him abroad.
Reporters did their fair share of cataloging Philip’s dates, but Philip didn’t have the patience Gene seemed to have. He considered it an infringement on his privacy and often said so. While Madalyn admitted that she envied the tall beauties pictured on his arm, she had the feeling an evening with Philip would be as absorbing intellectually as it was stimulating, and would be worth a hassle with the press.
Reminding herself she needed to get out of there before Philip returned, she picked up her purse and folder and prepared to find the personnel office. This was a chance of a lifetime, and she didn’t intend to blow it. If she had the choice, she’d work for Price Manufacturing forever, but that wasn’t possible so the issue was moot. Mr. and Mrs. Price were like surrogate parents to her, and surrogate grandparents to Erin, and her concern for them was just one more reason she wanted this job. She didn’t want the Prices worrying about her when they had enough troubles these days. The Prices had a whole company of loyal employees they were about to have to let go, while she only had Erin to worry about.
Just thinking about Erin made Madalyn smile. She still wasn’t sure how just three years ago she’d been positive she never wanted children. Now, of course, she couldn’t imagine life without her precious daughter.
But now was not the time to be reflecting on the not-quite-two-year-old pixie who took up her every spare moment. Now was the time to be concentrating on getting a job that would provide the little pixie with a home and day care and clothes and food....
Just as Madalyn reached for the elevator button, the bell chimed and the doors opened. She stepped back with renewed aplomb.
“Mr. Ambercroft,” she said, acknowledging him as she prepared to slip by. “Excuse me.”
His brow furrowed in confusion. “Where are you going?”
“Going?”
“Yes. Isn’t that file for me?” he asked, nodding toward her arm.
She knew from her contact at the employment agency that Philip would be making the final decision on the applicants, which seemed a bit odd to her, but maybe it was because Gene was out of the country. In the end, it wasn’t something to worry about. Yet she hadn’t expected Philip to be quite so involved at this stage.
“Well, I...suppose it is, in a way....”
He reached for the file, his fingers brushing her arm as he took it from her grasp. The sensation flustered her, making her forget what she was going to say.
She watched, speechless, as he opened the folder and read for a moment. Another frown crossed his forehead.
“What’s this?” he asked, glancing up. “Where’s the Ashton Hills report?”
“Ashton Hills?”
“Aren’t you from Denham’s office?”
“Um...no, I’m—”
“If you’re not from Denham’s office, what are you doing here?”
“I’m here about the executive assistant position open for Mr. Ambercroft.”
His whole demeanor changed instantly. His back straightened, the hint of a smile that had been playing at the edge of his mouth disappeared and he gave her a once-over that bordered on offensive. He seemed to catalog every inch of her bust, the narrowness of her waist and the exact flare of her hips—as if he could see through the boxy cut of her fashionable but reserved suit His eyes made a slow sweep of her legs before coming back to her face.
“I’m sorry, Miss—” he glanced at her résumé again “—Price.”
“I currently work for Price Manufacturing. My name is Madalyn Wier.”
The man stopped short again, but Madalyn couldn’t begin to guess what he was thinking. She had the distinct impression he’d just done another mercurial shift, but she was clueless as to why a bit of the warmth returned to his face. Now he was reading her résumé as if he hadn’t seen it before.
This time, when he looked up, the smile was back, but she would have bet her last nickel that something significant had changed. It wasn’t in the curve of his lips; it was in his eyes, eyes that said he missed little.
“Ms. Wier, I apologize for the mix-up. Would you come into my office? I’d like to get this straightened out.”
He didn’t give her a chance to waver. He came closer and took her elbow, ushering her politely toward his door.
Madalyn’s breath caught again at his touch, and she had to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other without tripping. She could only hope she appeared calm and professional on the outside, because her insides were a wreck. She had no choice, really, but to go along with Philip, and she offered a quick prayer that this impromptu interview would be just the break she needed.
Philip’s mind was already whirling as he walked around his desk and took a seat while he studied her file with more care. When he was finished, he stalled for a bit more time by shuffling a pile of papers. He hadn’t gotten where he was by being slow on his feet, and if he played this right, he might just salvage a week from hell and get some information on a company he had his eye on, to boot.
Philip didn’t question the marvelous opportunities that had come to him over the years, events he could never have planned or predicted. He was, however, smart enough to act on them...immediately.
He’d been about to dismiss Ms. Wier out of hand—after all, she was much too attractive to even consider interviewing for Gene’s position—when a plan started coming together. There were those who didn’t think he had a heart, much less a libido, but Ms. Wier had already proven she could raise both his pulse and his... imagination. Feeling that instantaneous reaction, that unexpected response, hadn’t happened in so very long, he couldn’t help but be amazed. And it had certainly never happened with an employee.
But Ms. Wier’s attributes weren’t the point. The fact that she met so many needs at one time made her beauty serendipitous.
Number one, his secretary was on an extended leave, and he hadn’t kept a temp for more than a day for the last week. One had walked out at lunch and never returned. One had been pregnant and gone into premature labor. One had taken ill with the stomach flu. He wasn’t sure why his luck was running so sour in this area, but it was becoming a bit annoying.
Number two, Ms. Wier had an impressive résumé, including a tenure with a company he had his sights on. Price Manufacturing would make a nice addition to the Ambercroft portfolio of companies.
Number three, he wanted more information before he made a move on Price Manufacturing, and who knew more about a company than an executive assistant?
Hell would freeze over, however, before he let his little brother hire a secretary like Ms. Wier. Gene had used Ambercroft, Inc., as his personal procuring service for the last time. When he came back from Europe with his latest secretary-turned-lover, he was going to find an efficient, talented and decidedly matronly secretary waiting for him. Philip had already thought of a few words to describe Ms. Wier, but matronly wasn’t even in the same dictionary.
So, his most urgent needs were met in the attractive little package sitting patiently across from him with her hands folded in her lap. He’d have to do all the sensitive letters himself since his secretary wouldn’t be back for at least a month, but he could get a mountain of correspondence on other matters dictated and off his desk. Surely, in the weeks remaining until Mrs. Montague returned, he could get caught up and possibly discover some interesting information about Price Manufacturing. Then, with Gene’s secretary firmly replaced by a Mrs. Montague clone, he’d find a slot for Ms. Wier in one of Ambercroft’s many departments, and his life would return to normal.
What more could he ask for?
A glance at the stockinged calf revealed beneath Ms. Wier’s proper navy skirt gave a hint at exactly what more he could ask for—in the privacy of his own mind, of course. He’d never fraternized with an employee in his life, and he wasn’t about to start now. That was Gene’s department....
Yet, Philip doubted it would be a hardship to dictate to Ms. Wier’s delicate, oval face. Mrs. Montague was a handsome woman, no doubt, but she was almost as old as his mother and not exactly his type. He respected Mrs. Montague a great deal, and valued her as an employee, but the sight of her ankle had never even come close to making his pants seem tighter.
Reining in his wandering thoughts, Philip pulled out another smile. “Your résumé says you take shorthand.”
“Yes, I do,” she affirmed, straightening slightly in her chair.
“Good, good. It’s hard to find a secretary who knows shorthand these days. I confess I’m a holdout who hates those little tapes and prefers to dictate the old-fashioned way.”
Her answer was a polite smile.
He folded his hands on his desktop and put on his “Let’s get comfortable, shall we?” expression. “There seems to be a little misunderstanding here, but I think we can work this out. You see, my brother is in Europe right now and won’t be back to interview for his position for several weeks, I’m sure.”
He paused as a thought suddenly occurred to him. Why had the headhunters sent someone who looked like this to interview in the first place? He’d spoken personally with the head of the agency, making it clear exactly what he wanted in prospective candidates for the position. He’d offered a salary that was sure to bring in applicants with impeccable references and long years of experience. That usually meant someone older than thirty, and Philip had more like forty-five or fifty in mind.
So what was a woman like Ms. Wier doing here? The agency valued his business too much to ever make a mistake like that.
“Ms. Wier, how did you hear about our opening?”
Philip had watched too many people across a negotiating table to miss the tiny flicker in her eyes. Possible coup or not, if she lied to him—and he’d know—she was out on her cute little rear.
“To be honest, I heard through a friend-of-a-friend kind of thing. This is a job I’m highly qualified for, and I made the decision to take advantage of the valuable information.”
He liked a person with initiative—to a certain point. He admired gumption in a competitor and in an employee, as long as they didn’t push too far. He appreciated that she’d taken an opportunity, especially in this instance where it worked to his advantage, but he also made a note to watch her and make sure her proactive approach didn’t end up biting him on the behind.
Although she had an excellent poker face, he could feel her tension. He waited just long enough to make his unspoken point before nodding.
“As a businessman, I can respect that.” He reread her file and let his ambiguous response hang. “So tell me why you’re leaving Price Manufacturing.”
Before the words even came out of her mouth, he knew she was about to give him the prepared story. He hadn’t turned over his family’s measly ten million this many times without honing a certain amount of psychic skill.
“Mrs. Price wants to come back to work. She says she’s bored, and after all, she ran the company with Mr. Price for years. They’re a good team. Anyway, they told me to take as much time as I needed to find a good job, but once I was settled, Mrs. Price would take the office back over. They pride themselves on being a family-run operation, you know.”
Yes, he knew. He knew Eva and Martin Price socially, and he knew their excellent reputation.
“Then I’m sure they will give you a good reference.”
He let her sit a moment longer, waiting until she uncrossed her legs and recrossed them before continuing. “As I said, my brother won’t be back for quite some time, but as it happens, my own secretary is out, and I need a temporary to stand in for her. Could I interest you in working for me for a few weeks? We’ll call it a dry run, if you will. When Mrs. Montague returns, you may still wish to apply for the opening, but if that doesn’t work out, I feel sure we can find a place for someone of your talent at Ambercroft, Inc.”
Philip named a salary even higher than he’d offered the headhunters, making the money alone worth her while to take the temporary position. Sweetening the deal with a promise of permanent employment was mere icing. This way, everybody won. Even Gene, although Philip had no intention of his brother ever knowing about this little venture.
His watch gave a small beep and he glanced at his wrist. Only five o’clock? Good, he could still get some work done.
Ms. Wier shifted in her seat, recapturing his attention. He’d never hired an employee based on their physical appearance, but in her case, he just might be tempted to make an exception. He had always been fond of brunettes, and her green eyes were bright and inviting. She had the presence and grace that said she was completely unaware of the power of her classic features. She had a timeless beauty that reminded him of some of the stunning women who’d starred in the old movies he favored. Elizabeth Taylor in her prime, Katherine Hepburn, Ingrid Bergman.
To be practical, however, by hiring Madalyn he’d have much more than someone pleasing to look at. He’d have a qualified, motivated assistant.
“Well, Ms. Wier? What do you think?”
“I’m very interested, of course. I’d need to know if medical benefits are available during this... dry run...as you call it, and if vacation will begin to accrue.”
He hid a smile. No overeager cream puff here. He was beginning to like her more and more. He despised ingratiating fools and pushovers.
“Medical, yes, we’ll get you on the corporate policy right away. Vacation and sick time will begin once you’re a permanent employee.”
She nodded, as if expecting his response. “Then I’ll say yes, Mr. Ambercroft.”
Philip wasn’t smug, but Gene wasn’t the only Ambercroft who could be charming. “Please, if we’re going to work together you must call me Philip. If I can call you Madalyn...?”
“Of—of course.”
“Great.” He shifted the folders on his desk and tossed a notepad and pen across to her. “Let’s get started.”
Chapter Two
Madalyn shook a cramp out of her wrist. Now she knew why they called Philip Ambercroft a tyrant!
Thank God her mother was visiting from Louisiana. She was lucky enough to have a private sitter who never worried about an exact pick-up time, and she had a cousin in town who was always delighted to get Erin in an emergency, but she hated to ask unless it was absolutely necessary. At least her guilt was somewhat mitigated by knowing Erin was with her grandmother—someone who worshiped the ground Erin toddled on.
She reminded herself not to complain. Even if it was a bit surprising to be put to work the same day as an interview—and at five o’clock in the evening at that—at least Philip was interested in her. And if she made a good impression, her future employment might just be sealed. He was by no means bound by what he’d said earlier, so she wanted to be dam sure to earn that permanent position.
She knew some called him ruthless, castigating him as a takeover tycoon, but she had read enough about him to know that while he wasn’t totally altruistic, he did rebuild the floundering companies he bought and turned them into cash cows. She admired Philip’s nononsense approach to business and his refusal to accept less than the best from his employees. She had scraped and pulled herself inch by inch out of the suffocating poverty of her hometown, and had gotten where she was by giving one hundred and ten percent at every job she’d ever had. Philip seemed like a boss who could appreciate that kind of work ethic.
As long as he didn’t take advantage too often. She admitted she was a bit sensitive in this area, but she was working on not letting a past mistake color her whole future. Not every handsome boss was a lying snake in the grass.
Of course, now that she’d taken dictation steadily for over an hour, which still had to be typed up, a part of Madalyn wanted to tell him to take his job and...well, do something anatomically impossible with it. The thought was fleeting, and she nearly gave her desk a superstitious rap. She didn’t want to jinx anything, even with an errant though.
She didn’t mind giving one hundred and ten percent, but today was her birthday. Her mother was waiting to go out for Chinese food, and then they were going to take turns arguing over who got to hold Erin while they watched the movie Madalyn had rented the night before. It probably wasn’t most people’s idea of a big birthday bash, but it suited her just fine.
Madalyn glanced at the clock. It was almost seven and she wasn’t even close to being finished. Picking up the telephone, she sighed and dialed her home number. She brushed a wayward strand of not-quite brown, not-quite-red hair out of the way as she pressed the receiver to her ear.
Her mother’s Cajun accent jarred her out of her wandering thoughts.
“Et?”
“Hi, Mom, it’s me again. Looks like we have to cancel my birthday plans. I’m not even close to getting out of here.”
“You’re still working? My goodness!”
“I’ll tell you all about it when I get there, but that may not be for a while. Don’t let me forget to call Mr. Price at home and let him know what happened.”
“I’ll write you a note. I’m sorry about tonight, shay. But my angel and I are having a good time.”
“Oh, yeah? And how many cookies has she conned you out of?”
“Don’ you talk about my angel that way!”
“Mother...”
“Just three, but they were just a bit and a piece—”
“Mother, don’t you dare give her another one. Has she eaten any dinner at all?”
“Yes, and had a bath, and she’s rubbin’ her little eyes. I swear she looks like your papa lookin’ back at me.”
Madalyn smiled. “I know, Mama. Listen, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you soon. Kiss my sweetie for me.”
“Sho’ thing. You drive home careful, he’ya?”
“Yes, I hear. Love you.”
Madalyn hung up, her good humor restored. With her usual determination, she faced the computer screen and typed the pages of dictation she’d taken. Once she was in the groove, she lost track of time again, and it was only when she realized she was in danger of a permanent crick in her neck that she stopped and stretched.
“Madalyn?”
Philip’s voice startled her, making her heart race. She hadn’t even heard him open his door.
“I’m sorry I’ve taken such advantage of you on your birthday. I was looking over your résumé again and the date finally struck me.”
She tried to make her smile sincere. “That happens sometimes. It’s not the end of the world.”
“Still, I’ve thrust you straight into the lion’s den and didn’t even think about the time. Let me take you to dinner to make up for it.”
“Oh, no, that’s not necessary—”
“I insist. What do you like? Chinese? Mexican?”
“I love Chinese, but—”
Madalyn paused, sensing a challenge in his voice. Good heavens, hadn’t she proven already that she was a team player? A cold fear settled in her stomach, and she hoped she hadn’t misjudged Philip—she hoped he wasn’t the philandering type. But then, she’d misjudged before...
“Philip, listen, I have to be up-front with you.” She took a deep breath, hoping she wasn’t about to put herself out of a job. “I’m not comfortable mixing business with social events. I appreciate the offer and all, but I’d rather not.”
He looked surprised, but nodded graciously.
“Very well, then. Why don’t you get out of here and salvage what’s left of your evening?”
“I appreciate that. I’m close to being done, so I’d like to finish these letters so we can start fresh tomorrow. If that’s all right.”
“That’s not necessary—”
“Really, I’d rather. It shouldn’t take me but an hour or so. I’m on a roll. Unless I’m keeping you?”
“Not at all. I appreciate the offer.”
He retreated again into his office, and his phone line lit up almost immediately. It only served to heighten her image of Philip at his desk seven days a week. She didn’t need her insider info to know that he was a driven man; that was the first thing any article said about him. Now that she’d met him in person, his drive emanated from him in a palpable wave. She wondered for a moment just what she’d gotten herself into, and decided just as quickly that she’d work weekends without complaint, if he asked, for the experience this was going to provide her, and the security it would give her and Erin.
She wasn’t sure what could have surprised her more, a mere forty-five minutes later, when the elevator door opened and a man came in bearing white plastic bags. The smells emanating from the bags made her stomach grumble, and she didn’t have to be able to read the red symbols on the outside of the bags to know a feast had just been delivered from Woo Duck Fong’s Chinese Emporium. Fong’s was her favorite restaurant in the whole world.
Philip must have heard the commotion, for his door opened and he took care of the delivery guy with a minimum of fuss. She watched, amusement warring with concern.
“Philip—”
“Nope, no arguments. I’ve worked you like a slave driver on your birthday. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with my invitation, so I did the next best thing.”
While he was speaking, he’d been pulling out little boxes and covered bowls. He moved files from her desk to the floor to make room.
“You really shouldn’t have.”
A smile transformed his face, making her heart turn over.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe she should keep looking until she found a kind, toadfaced man who was at least five inches shorter than her to work for. Anyone but a tall, dark man with a smile that could light up entire rooms at a time.
Madalyn didn’t want to admit how nervous his proximity made her, and she tried to tell herself it was because he was her new boss, not because he was so devastatingly handsome. It was nearly eight o’clock at night and the man’s suit looked as fresh and crisp as if he’d just put it on. She, on the other hand, felt rumpled and wrinkled, which was not unexpected after the day she’d had. Her suit jacket was hanging on the back of her chair and now she wished she hadn’t taken it off.
Giving herself a stern mental rap on the knuckles, she told herself to be gracious, eat the food that was making her mouth water and then get home.
“Thank you for the dinner. It smells great. But how did you know Fong’s is my favorite?”
“Isn’t it everybody’s?” he asked, his expression teasing. “The truth is, I had no idea, but you said you loved Chinese, and this is the best food this side of Hong Kong, so it made sense to me....”
Somehow she knew he wasn’t speaking metaphorically. He’d probably been to Hong Kong a dozen times and knew exactly who served the best Chinese food this side of the Pacific.
Philip pulled one of the guest chairs closer to the desk and settled back with a carton of beef and broccoli.
“So tell me about yourself, your family.” He grimaced and waved his chopsticks in the air. “Wait! Forget I asked that. My attorney said he’d have my head if I asked any personal questions of my employees.”
She had to smile at his obvious disgust. “I take it you’ve been thoroughly warned about avoiding discrimination lawsuits.”
Stabbing a bright green broccoli flower, he chomped it with a satisfied sigh before nodding. “Sometimes I think we’ve just about gone over the edge with political correctness. I hate having to guard every word I say.”
Madalyn tilted her head to the side. “I’m surprised With your business reputation, I’d think you’d be well-tuned to this stuff.”
“This stuff, as you put it, is taking all the fun out of business.”
“Well, don’t worry. You didn’t offend me, and I promise not to sue.”
He returned her smile and leaned forward, reaching for a packet of soy sauce. “Good. So tell me about yourself, Madalyn Wier.”
“What would you like to know?”
“Everything. Start with the usual, like where you’re from, and we’ll go from there.”
Other than perfunctory information, she hardly expected true interest from him. After a few unimportant details, undoubtedly he’d carry the conversation. Which was fine with her, since he’d been a source of fascination for her for a long time. She wanted to know everything about him, and to have the ball in her court was slightly disconcerting.
“I was raised in a little town called Asulta, Louisiana.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
She laughed. “Of course you haven’t! It’s a tiny little town, meriting a mere pinprick on a Rand-McNally map. We’re far off the beaten path and miles from the nearest highway, so the only industry in our town is a couple of garment factories. Everyone worked for one or the other, except for the few folks like my father who worked for the school system.”
“What did he do?”
“He was a janitor until he died when I was eight”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry that he was a janitor or sorry he died?”
His lips curved in an answer to her cheeky question. When he smiled, his face was transformed from godlike perfection to a boyish charm that captivated her. It took yet another stern mental warning to remind her that she didn’t need to be captivated by her new boss—even if he was just a temporary boss.
“I’m sorry that you lost your father,” he clarified with definite sincerity in his voice, despite his teasing smile. “I lost my father when I was in college, and that was hard enough. I can’t imagine being as young as eight.”
“It was rough,” she admitted without rancor. “I was a late-life surprise for my parents, so I have to confess I was fairly doted on.”
His expression turned slightly ironic. “I can see we had vastly different childhoods.”
“I’ll say,” she said with a laugh. “I’d never even seen a tennis court, except on television, until I was a teenager.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he replied. “I’m just trying to picture my father as doting, and the image just won’t gel.”
“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say,” she admitted hesitantly. He’d startled her as she never expected something so personal to enter the conversation. Weren’t negative family comments a no-no in the rich person’s rule book?
Philip shook his head as if suddenly realazing what he’d said.
“Sorry about that,” he said with a sheepishness that reached out and caught her imagination. “Didn’t mean to get maudlin on you.”
Maudlin wasn’t the word she would have chosen. Introspective, maybe, but that’s what nabbed her attention so fully. The image she was getting of him conflicted with the picture she’d already drawn in her mind. She expected someone cold and calculating, someone who never looked at the past, yet she was facing someone quite charming with an undercurrent of power and magnetism that she would do well to not underestimate.
He put his entrée on the desk before shifting to casually rest his arm on the back of his chair. The move stretched his dress shirt across his chest, his jacket now discarded, and her mouth went a little dry. Good heavens, the man was dreamy! Maybe it was her imagination, but he bore an uncanny resemblance to her favorite actor, although Mr. Brosnan might argue the presumption. Still, with the five-o’clock shadow shading his face and his dark hair just everso-slightly mussed, she’d have to say that yes, indeed, Philip Ambercroft looked rather Bond-ish at the moment
“So tell me about your favorite birthday memory,” he said, startling her out of her wayward thoughts.
Wrinkling her brow, Madalyn tried to think. Favorite birthday?
“I guess it would be my eighth, just before my father died. A carnival was in a town close to ours and where my dad got the money, I have no idea, but we all went and rode every ride, ate every kind of junk food, and I got to ride the little Shetland ponies—you know, where they walk around slowly in a circle? Real excitement for a girl who’d never even seen a horse up close and personal. What about you?”
“Easy. I was sixteen and at boarding school in Switzerland. My parents couldn’t make it over and I spent the entire weekend by myself on the slopes. No pressure, no one watching, no yardsticks.”
“Your sixteenth birthday by yourself? That sounds sad.”
“Not at all. It was the first time I felt like my birthday wasn’t some kind of litmus test about my reaching my manhood.”
He said manhood with such derision, she couldn’t begin to imagine growing up under such pressure. The image was heart-wrenching, one he’d managed to convey in a sentence, and she was once again stunned by this very personal glimpse into a very private man’s life.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Holidays are special to me. Especially Christmas and birthdays. Sounds like you could take ‘em or leave ’em.”
“Oh, not so. And forgive me for being so talkative. I don’t know what’s gotten into me tonight.”
“Must be my talent at scintillating dialogue,” she said drolly.
“Must be,” he agreed, his tongue in his cheek.
“You’ll have to remember where to come when you’re depressed from now on. Just call me Dr. Madalyn.”
“Well, Doctor, I think your dinner is getting cold so we’ll have to finish the session another day.”
“Oh, dam,” she said with mock regret, digging in to her orange chicken again and taking a bite. She sighed with sheer pleasure and wiped her mouth with her napkin.
As they finished the soup and egg rolls, the conversation became light and mundane. They talked about the building, about some of Ambercroft’s diverse holdings—nothing she didn’t already know from her research. But it was fun to listen to him talk, to watch his face brighten with pride. He really did love his company, and the many philanthropic endeavors they were involved in.
He even mentioned the gala Eva Price was chairing for the Pediatric AIDS League.
“Are you going?” She couldn’t stop enthusiasm from coloring her voice. How wonderful for Eva, to grab a contributor the likes of the Ambercroft family.
“I haven’t committed yet. Are you attending?”
“Um, yes,” she said, now hesitant and unsure why. “I’m sort of on the committee. I’ve done several with Eva, and it’s wonderful to be a part of such good work.”
“Then I’ll just have to find that invitation and RSVP, won’t I?”
Not sure how she was supposed to respond, she concentrated on the last of her fried rice. The food had been great, and she’d enjoyed talking to Philip, but Madalyn was ready for the evening to be over. It had been a long day, she was tired and she wanted to snuggle her baby for a few minutes before dropping into bed. She thought about telling Philip about Erin, but she didn’t want to start another long conversation.
Philip surprised her when he began clearing the desk.
“I can do that,” she said, preparing to help.
“No. You shut down the computer and get your things. It’s time for the birthday girl to open her fortune cookie and then go home.”
Dutifully cracking the treat, she opened the little slip of paper and immediately laughed.
“Come on, don’t keep me in suspense.”
“It says, ‘A new job awaits you.”’
“You’re joshing me.”
She handed over the fortune, and he laughed with her. “Well, I’m wondering about mine, then. It says, ‘You are next in line for a promotion.”’
She cocked her head. “Can the boss get a promotion?”
“Beats me. But I’ll be sure to bring this to my next board of directors meeting.”
With another round of laughter, they were ready to call it a night. In no time, they were in the elevator and headed for the parking garage. Philip had been so polite the entire evening, it didn’t surprise her when he took the keys from her and opened her car door. Still, she stood there, trying to display the proper amount of righteous, feminist indignation. The problem was, he’d moved so confidently, with such arrogant smoothness, she forgot what she was supposed to do. All she could concentrate on was how close he was, how alone they were, how soft his lips looked. The awkwardness seemed to have vanished, and for the merest second, it seemed he was bending closer to her and she gasped. Yes, she wanted to kiss him, wanted to see if he was everything her imagination promised—
Reality snapped back into place and they both jerked away at the same time. Humiliation burned her face and she fussed with her purse strap so she didn’t have to look him in the eye. Maybe she could find a way to blame this on fatigue....
Wishing she could melt into the pavement, she managed to get in the car and strap her seat belt on.
“Good night, Madalyn,” he said, shutting her door for her. “Sleep in tomorrow. You deserve it.”
She wished she knew what he was thinking. Even more, she wished she could hide her feelings and thoughts as well as he could. She could only imagine the shade of red on her cheeks.
“Good night. And thank you again for dinner.”
He nodded and stepped back so she could pull away, waiting until she’d disappeared from sight before going back to the elevator.
What the hell was wrong with him? When he’d called in dinner, he’d admitted it was a little unusual, but in his wildest dreams he’d never imagined that his secretary would turn him into a jabberjaw. He never talked about his childhood, and he never, ever talked about it with a stranger. But she’d tossed his questions back to him, and he’d responded, the words coming out of his mouth of their own volition.
Which was a huge sign that he needed to stay away from this woman in anything resembling a personal conversation. If she could turn what he had formerly considered his iron-clad control to mush this effortlessly, heaven forbid if she ever asked any really private questions. He’d probably rattle off his Swiss bank-account numbers.
Then his behavior by her car. He was sure he was certifiable after that move. But she’d been so close, and the faint trace of her perfume had made him forget who he was, who she was. All that he’d been thinking at that moment was that he wanted to kiss her, taste her, see if she was as perfect as she appeared.
Thankfully something had snapped him back. Now he had to make sure that this incident was never reprised.
He just hadn’t expected to like her so much. He wasn’t sure why, except maybe that while he had an extreme respect for Mrs. Montague, he’d never taken her or any other secretary out for a private dinner... although, technically, this dinner had been “in” not “out.” Anniversaries and other special occasions were noted with bonuses and gift certificates for Mrs. Montague to enjoy with her family. It was a pattern that made them both comfortable.
But Madalyn had him thinking about sex—hot, hard, driving sex, and then slow, long and languorous sex—and all within hours of meeting her. It wasn’t anything she’d done. Not one movement, not one look, not one word had been suggestive or inappropriate.
It was something primal that called to him past her proper demeanor. Then she’d unknowingly pricked his conscience when they’d spoken about the Price gala, and he’d felt himself withdrawing.
What had Sir Walter Scott said? “Oh, what a tangled web we weave...”
Suddenly he wasn’t so sure working with her was such a good idea after all. Even if it meant not capturing Price Manufacturing, he decided having her so near was too risky. She messed with his equilibrium and he couldn’t afford that; he wouldn’t take that risk.
He had too much to do to be dealing with distractions by his own staff. Especially this kind of distraction. The best thing to do would be to cut his losses and get another temp. What was one more anyway, the way things had been going?
Feeling a pang of regret, he decided he’d have to break the news to her tomorrow.
Chapter Three
Madalyn was surprised to find Philip wasn’t there when she arrived the next morning. A veteran early riser, especially now that she was a single mother, she hadn’t taken him up on his offer to sleep in. She couldn’t have, even if she’d wanted to. Erin’s idea of sleeping in was letting the sun actually peek over the horizon.
She wasn’t surprised, though, to see a stack of work neatly aligned on the corner of the desk. From the looks of it, he hadn’t taken his own counsel to go home. He had to have been there past midnight to have gotten so much done.
She was grateful, though. On the drive in, she’d berated herself for being so determined to finish up last night. She feared having to sit there and twiddle her thumbs, which would have made her miserable. She supposed she should have known better. Philip was never idle, so why should his staff be? Besides, being busy made the day go faster, and it felt like she got home to Erin sooner.
By the time the elevator doors opened and he emerged, she was engrossed in a prospectus from Philip to the members of a joint venture interested in buying one of his companies. It should have been dry, dull work—inputting numbers into a spreadsheet, typing a long document from one of the tapes Philip had claimed to hate. Instead, she was intrigued.
“I thought I told you to sleep in.”
Madalyn wished there had been a more teasing quality to his voice. “You did, but I’m not very good at that. It was hard enough waiting until nine to get here.”
“Oh, well, yes, I appreciate your dedication. Listen, Madalyn...”
“Yes?”
“You see, about last night, I—”
The phone rang and she hesitated, picking it up when he gave an exasperated nod toward the phone.
“Mr. Ambercroft’s office,” she answered in a crisp, professional tone.
There was no response.
“Hello? May I help you?”
“Who is this?”
Madalyn told herself not to be put out by the imperious tone in the woman’s voice. “I’m Madalyn Wier, Mr. Ambercroft’s assistant.”
“Of course,” the woman said slowly. “Is my son in his office?”
“One moment please.”
He raised an eyebrow as she put the call on hold.
“It’s your mother,” she said, answering his silent question.
Philip rubbed his forehead for a moment and when he dropped his hand, she thought she saw weariness in his incredibly blue eyes.
“I’ll take it in here.”
He disappeared into his office, shutting the door behind him. She understood his reaction. She loved her own mother dearly, and worried about her increasingly poor health, but no one on the face of the earth could exasperate her faster. She was grateful that her mother’s visit had only produced one argument so far on Madalyn’s single status. It was the only real source of contention between them. Their usual argument consisted of Madalyn trying to get her mother to move to Dallas so they could see each other more.
Philip came back out sometime later, and asked her about a file she had waiting for him. She stopped him when he turned to go back into his office.
“Was there something you wanted to say to me before we were interrupted?”
He looked at her for the longest time, the intensity of his gaze making her decidedly uncomfortable. It was almost as though he were battling himself, and she wondered if her own anxiety was what someone felt when facing a firing squad.
“No,” was all he said before he shut his door behind him.
She didn’t have to be hit on the head to understand that whatever subject he had been about to bring up was now closed and off-limits.
Philip leaned against his door, unaware until he looked down that he was crushing the file Madalyn had given him. After tossing the papers on his desk, he sat with controlled movements and leaned back.
First, he’d surprised himself by telling his mother more about Madalyn than that she was a temporary secretary. It had somehow slipped out that she had worked for Price Manufacturing, and even more startling, he’d said something about her amazing skills.
His mother’s pause had spoken volumes. She was obviously as taken aback as he was to be discussing such mundane details with her. They weren’t usually chatty.
Then he’d felt doubly foolish to hear his mother admonish him to not let his emotions interfere with his business sense. Since when had he needed his mother’s advice? Not that she was ever hesitant to give it, but Philip had drawn the line years ago to remind his mother that not only was he nearly forty years old, but he was more than capable of making decisions without his mama’s help.
He took responsibility for his actions, mistakes and all. Some lessons had been hard learned, such as losing his heart to Hannah Hollingsworth in college. That vivid lesson had made clear the fantasy of love conquering all. He hadn’t thought it mattered that the Ambercrofts couldn’t trace their roots to the Mayflawer. They’d been proud, self-made Americans... even if they glossed over the fact that Grandfather Ambercroft was the one who had really boosted the family fortune by bootlegging whiskey during Prohibition. As for himself, Philip thought his grandfather had been a hell of a guy, and he remembered listening intently to the stories the man had told about his youth. Philip suspected his grandfather had told the stories to irritate his mother as much as anything else.
But Hannah’s family had a decided lack of humor, and put exorbitant pride in their mostly blue-blood ancestry, but he’d foolishly believed that wasn’t enough to keep them apart. He’d begged her to run away with him, to marry him, and then they’d force her parents to accept him. But Hannah had been unable to defy her parents for a man they had considered well beneath them on the social register.
Philip was sure the day she’d refused him was the day his heart had frozen solid, as so many people believed to be true, and he’d vowed never again to let his emotions override his common sense.
Since then, he’d never let anything interfere with his goals. Now, all of a sudden, he’s about to give up a lucrative business deal just because his new secretary—his temporary secretary—gave him a hard-on? Not bloody likely. He was going to get his brain and his libido under control and remember what he’d planned. He had no intention of doing anything illegal, or even immoral. When the time was right, he was going to flat-out ask her about Price Manufacturing. That was hardly diabolical.
He smoothed out the papers he’d wrinkled and sat down to put his mind to work with a ruthlessness that had made him the success he was. His eyes lost focus as his mind began to whirl. Price Manufacturing wasn’t his pressing issue at the moment, so he set it aside. His present goal was McConnally Machinery.
He picked up the phone and punched out a number with quick, hard jabs.
When he’d finished his conversation, he felt a stiffness in his neck, but he ignored it as he hit the intercom. “Madalyn, would you come in here, please?”
“Yes, sir?” she asked a moment later from his doorway.
“Sit down.”
She did as ordered and he was impressed at how well she hid her curiosity. Her demeanor was relaxed, her hands folded in apparent calmness, her expression open with a proper amount of question in her eyes.
He was going to go with his gut on this, for more than one reason, but he was depending on her experience as a high-level assistant in assuming she could maintain the poker face she’d displayed. If he was wrong, he might just kill two plans with one foul-up.
“Once again I’m springing something on you suddenly, but the negotiations on the file you just gave me have been moved up to tomorrow. On long sessions, such as this one will be, I usually take Mrs. Montague with me, as her note-taking skills are superb. Would you be willing, on this short notice, to fill in? I’d like to leave this afternoon, as things will start early in the morning. We’ll be back late tomorrow.”
She hesitated. Normally she couldn’t have even considered his request as she wouldn’t leave Erin with anyone overnight, but her mother was going to be there for at least another week.
“Is there a problem?” he prompted in the ensuing silence.
“I need to tell you something that I failed to mention yesterday. I have a child, and I’m a single parent.”
“Oh,” he said, not quite hiding a moment of surprise. “Of course, I understand then—”
“But it so happens that my mother is in town visiting, and if we’ll only be gone one night, I don’t see that it will be a problem. Where will we be going?”
Her matter-of-factness must have short-circuited his objections, for his tone became completely businesslike again.
“Mobile, Alabama. McConnally Machinery is the company. They machine ship propellers and shafts. I’ve been playing cat-and-mouse with the owner for a year now.”
He opened the folder and handed her a black-and-white photograph of a man in his fifties, his silver hair combed back off his forehead. He had an open, engaging face, his skin slightly battered by years spent in the salty air and elements.
“His name is Connar McConnally. When you meet him, don’t let his Southern, good-ol’-boy manners fool you. He likes to play the dumb hick, but this guy’s sharp. His company is relatively small, but he’s managed to keep a big chunk of the business on Mobile Bay all to himself. People whose very livelihoods depend on their boats being in the water will wait until this man—” Philip nodded toward the picture “—can get to their repairs. He started making noises about selling a year ago, but he won’t play ball yet.”
Madalyn studied the photograph and then handed it back across the desk. “What will I be doing for you there?”
“Be my eyes and ears. Do more than take notes. Watch people. Give me your impressions of their body language as well as their words.”
“Do you think he’s hiding something?”
Philip smiled. “Businessmen always have something to hide, but my interest lies in how big that something is. I think he’s just smart enough not to appear too eager, but I want to make sure before we toss the first pitch. My goal is to talk him into letting Ambercroft take over, but get him to stay on and run things. I’m going to try and sell him on the idea that all he really wants is some of the burden taken off his shoulders, but this way he keeps the benefits of a company he’s so proud of without the day-to-day worries.”
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Pamela Ingrahm
MERGER IN THE MAKING…?Powerful CEO Philip Ambercroft prized efficiency, order–and no temptation in the office. So when he needed a temporary assistant, he decided to hire a no-nonsense, matronly type. But then he met the most qualified candidate….All-too-appealing Madalyn Wier had impeccable references and years of experience–and she soon had her handsome executive boss falling for her womanly charms. But Philip was determined to deny the attraction between them, especially since Madalyn was a single mother who had a daughter to consider. And the confirmed bachelor wasn't prepared to propose a marriage merger…was he?
Madalyn wondered what she’d gotten herself into. (#uc6c64b7f-340b-50a0-a085-1e73f5e1d451)Letter to Reader (#uc238de13-8d21-5f49-be76-5199c5f69fea)Title Page (#u5a0d8a3c-0553-56b2-8acc-d712644f30b2)Dedication (#ud17307ad-7811-5ff5-9d8a-97ff6e9f4ecc)About the Author (#uaaa5165e-3073-596c-b2d1-1d6d97cf06b0)Chapter One (#uc3668269-996c-5887-903f-df0763800393)Chapter Two (#uce4f840d-9597-5469-ab60-5b137181868b)Chapter Three (#ua150580e-c552-572b-8037-3492c5ecfe5b)Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Madalyn wondered what she’d gotten herself into.
She didn’t want to admit how nervous Philip’s proximity made her. She tried to tell herself it was because he was her new boss, not because he was so devastatingly handsome.
She reminded herself of what she’d accomplished by not letting emotion guide her decisions.
Actually, she’d let her emotions guide her once, but she’d learned....
Which was why she wasn’t going to read anything into this business trip. Except when she remembered the blaze of passion she’d seen in his eyes when she thought he was going to kiss her last night...and her own traitorous response.
Well, it wasn’t a problem, because she wouldn’t be with him in any situation remotely intimate again. She’d make sure of it. Even if there was an irresponsible, rebellious piece of her wishing for just one little kiss to satisfy her curiosity....
Dear Reader,
Silhouette Romance blends classic themes and the challenges of romance in today’s world into a reassuring, fulfilling novel. And this month’s offerings undeniably deliver on that promise!
In Baby, You’re Mine, part of BUNDLES OF JOY, RITA Awardwinning author Lindsay Longford tells of a pregnant, penniless widow who finds sanctuary with a sought-after bachelor who’d never thought himself the marrying kind...until now. Duty and passion collide in Sally Carleen’s The Prince’s Heir, when the prince dispatched to claim his nephew falls for the heir’s beautiful adoptive mother. When a single mom desperate to keep her daughter weds an ornery rancher intent on saving his spread, she discovers that McKenna’s Bartered Bride is what she wants to be...forever. Don’t miss this next delightful installment of Sandra Steffen’s BACHELOR GULCH series.
Donna Clayton delivers an emotional story about the bond of sisterhood... and how a career-driven woman learns a valuable lesson about love from the man who’s Her Dream Come True. Carla Cassidy’s MUSTANG, MONTANA, Intimate Moments series crosses into Romance with a classic boss/secretary story that starts with the proposition Wife for a Week, but ends... well, you’ll have to read it to find out! And in Pamela Ingrahm’s debut Romance novel, a millionaire CEO realizes that his temporary assistant—and her adorable toddler—have him yearning to leave his Bachelor Boss days behind.
Enjoy this month’s titles—and keep coming back to Romance, a series guaranteed to touch every woman’s heart.
Mary-Theresa Hussey
Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
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Bachelor Boss
Pamela Ingrahm
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my agent, Linda Kruger.
What a joy it has been working with you!
Here’s to many more years
and many more books.
PAMELA INGRAHM lives in Austin, Texas, with the man of her dreams and their two children. She’s added to the mix one dog that thinks the human race was put here to love her, and Pamela swears she’s not doing anything to foster that notion. She also tells all who will listen how wonderful it is to live your dream.
Chapter One
As far as birthdays went, Madalyn Wier had had better.
If there was one thing that would salvage being thirty, a single mother and facing unemployment, it would be landing an executive assistant position at Ambercroft, Inc.
Madalyn craned her head back to look at the massive building standing as a testament to old money and exemplary architecture. The tip of the hundred-story-plus structure pressed into the Dallas sky, as if to say heaven itself made room for the Ambercrofts.
Crossing her arms against the brisk spring wind, she waited for traffic to clear. Obviously, the hospitality Texans were known for disappeared after four o’clock during the work week. At least in downtown Dallas....
Once across the street, she paused outside the heavy, leaded glass doors and adjusted her suit jacket. With a deep breath, she went inside and moved confidently to the reception desk... or as close to confident as she could manage. At least she hoped she looked confident.
The first thing that struck her as she waited for the receptionist to acknowledge her was that the woman looked agitated. While Madalyn knew well how harrying the job could be, somehow showing it didn’t seem...Ambercroft-ish.
She gave the woman time to answer a crush of phone calls and glanced around the lobby. Marble floors polished to a diamond sheen ended in walls of dark wood. A section of marble stretching to the vaulted ceiling framed the portraits of five generations of Ambercrofts, each representative impeccably dressed in a dark suit. The styles themselves were a statement to the duration of the family legacy, and it was a bit unnerving to be stared at by the daunting figures. Madalyn assumed that was the point—to make sure all visitors knew they were entering a bastion of power.
With each successive generation, the men became more handsome, but somehow increasingly stern. Until the portrait of the youngest, Philip Ambercroft. Philip Ambercroft IV, to be exact. While being by far the most handsome, he alone wore a Mona Lisa smile that easily caught her attention. Maybe it was because she’d seen so many photographs of him in everything from news weeklies to the tabloids, or maybe it was just her imagination, but he seemed to want the viewer to wonder just what was going on behind that intelligent face.
At a break in the incessant but muted ringing. Madalyn stepped forward. “Excuse me—”
“Ms. Fox is away for a minute. I’m from Accounting and just—” The woman jabbed at the telephone and gave Madalyn a less than warm look, as if the new call was her fault. “Reception. No, please hold.” Jab. “What do you need?”
“I’m here to apply for a position with—”
Jab. “Reception. Please hold.”
“—Mr. Ambercroft?”
“Mr. Ambercroft is on the twenty-first floor.”
“I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood—”
The ersatz receptionist held the receiver away from her ear and pinned Madalyn with a glare. “I said twenty-first floor.”
Recoiling from the angry, haughty look, and in no mood to argue, Madalyn headed for the bank of elevators nestled in granite. Maybe someone on the twenty-first floor could direct her to the personnel office with a bit more tact and grace.
It was at times like these that Madalyn wished she could take the risk and open her own nursery. At least roses and ficuses didn’t glare at you and get snippy. But that old dream was out of reach. She needed a steady paycheck and benefits now that she had more than just herself to think of.
The elevator ride up was smooth and quick, but then again, she was in the Ambercroft building, and machinery didn’t dare perform less than perfectly. When the doors slid open, she stepped out onto a sea of mint-green carpet that felt as though it had a mile of padding underneath. She allowed herself an entire minute of slack-jawed awe. A vacant secretary’s desk sat in front of her, bigger than any executive’s desk she’d ever seen, and state-of-the-art everything was neatly arranged on the exquisitely grained wood. The guest couch and chairs whispered upholstered elegance and the door off to the left fairly bellowed that this was the entrance to the inner sanctum.
Madalyn stifled a giggle when she envisioned a sleekly polished Miss Moneypenny type sitting behind that desk. But no Miss Moneypenny sat there now, and Madalyn was fairly certain this wasn’t the personnel department.
She was about to turn around and head back to the first floor to try again, when the door to the inner sanctum opened. Somehow, the way this day had gone, it didn’t surprise her in the least that Philip Ambercroft came out with a harried expression on his face, engrossed in something on the page he was holding.
He was so much more striking in person than in print, or oil and canvas for that matter, that Madalyn was startled. She’d heard the expression chiseled to define someone’s features before, but he was the first person she’d met who truly fit the description. European royalty was all she could think of to conceptualize the thoughts whirring through her head, but from what she knew through her extensive reading, she doubted such fiercely proud Americans as the Ambercrofks would appreciate the analogy. In fact, they were just as fiercely Texan.
He was almost on top of her before he pulled up short. He gave her a quick glance and turned toward the desk, his jaw snapping shut when he didn’t find the person he so obviously expected to be there.
“Just have a seat. I’ll be right back.”
Without another word, he entered the elevator and punched a button, leaving Madalyn with the lingering trace of his crisp, clean cologne.
When she finally remembered to breathe, she took a seat as instructed. She didn’t have much choice. Her knees had just given out.
Not five inches from her. Philip Ambercroft had been not five inches from her. She’d been close enough to see the light-colored flecks in his blue eyes. She could have reached out and touched the lock of midnight-black hair that had fallen rakishly over his forehead and discovered if it was as velvety soft as it looked. Her fingertip could have traced the slight bow of his strong, upper lip—
“Get a grip, Madalyn!” She said the words aloud to give them more impact. The fact that her fingers trembled as she swiped them across her forehead didn’t give her much confidence. She had to get herself together before she blew it completely.
Praying Mr. Ambercroft would stay gone for a few minutes, she worked on composing herself. The open position was with Gene Ambercroft, not Philip, so that was two mistakes she could thank the pseudo-receptionist for—me wrong floor and the wrong Ambercroft, but there was no sense in getting frustrated. She could just chalk it up to a day full of frustrations.
Now that she’d seen him, in the flesh, she couldn’t get her mind off Philip Ambercroft. She could admit in the privacy of her own mind that she—along with about ten million other Americans—had an intense curiosity about the Ambercrofts. They were American royalty, and the press treated them accordingly.
Unlike the female population of America, though, she was fascinated by the business tycoon Philip, not his playboy brother. She wouldn’t mind working for Gene, but it was the oldest Ambercroft brother who had captured her imagination from the first article she’d ever read on the famous family.
There was something about him, something intriguing, that was so much more interesting than mere sex appeal. While definitely as sexy as his baby brother, Philip was the one who exuded confidence and grace, not mere raw testosterone—at least in her opinion. She decided that wasn’t really fair to Gene. It was the reporters who concentrated on his dating life. She doubted anyone really wanted their every move cataloged in a magazine, although Gene knew how to play the paparazzi and keep them among his adoring throng. They didn’t seem to bother him here at home, but loved to follow him abroad.
Reporters did their fair share of cataloging Philip’s dates, but Philip didn’t have the patience Gene seemed to have. He considered it an infringement on his privacy and often said so. While Madalyn admitted that she envied the tall beauties pictured on his arm, she had the feeling an evening with Philip would be as absorbing intellectually as it was stimulating, and would be worth a hassle with the press.
Reminding herself she needed to get out of there before Philip returned, she picked up her purse and folder and prepared to find the personnel office. This was a chance of a lifetime, and she didn’t intend to blow it. If she had the choice, she’d work for Price Manufacturing forever, but that wasn’t possible so the issue was moot. Mr. and Mrs. Price were like surrogate parents to her, and surrogate grandparents to Erin, and her concern for them was just one more reason she wanted this job. She didn’t want the Prices worrying about her when they had enough troubles these days. The Prices had a whole company of loyal employees they were about to have to let go, while she only had Erin to worry about.
Just thinking about Erin made Madalyn smile. She still wasn’t sure how just three years ago she’d been positive she never wanted children. Now, of course, she couldn’t imagine life without her precious daughter.
But now was not the time to be reflecting on the not-quite-two-year-old pixie who took up her every spare moment. Now was the time to be concentrating on getting a job that would provide the little pixie with a home and day care and clothes and food....
Just as Madalyn reached for the elevator button, the bell chimed and the doors opened. She stepped back with renewed aplomb.
“Mr. Ambercroft,” she said, acknowledging him as she prepared to slip by. “Excuse me.”
His brow furrowed in confusion. “Where are you going?”
“Going?”
“Yes. Isn’t that file for me?” he asked, nodding toward her arm.
She knew from her contact at the employment agency that Philip would be making the final decision on the applicants, which seemed a bit odd to her, but maybe it was because Gene was out of the country. In the end, it wasn’t something to worry about. Yet she hadn’t expected Philip to be quite so involved at this stage.
“Well, I...suppose it is, in a way....”
He reached for the file, his fingers brushing her arm as he took it from her grasp. The sensation flustered her, making her forget what she was going to say.
She watched, speechless, as he opened the folder and read for a moment. Another frown crossed his forehead.
“What’s this?” he asked, glancing up. “Where’s the Ashton Hills report?”
“Ashton Hills?”
“Aren’t you from Denham’s office?”
“Um...no, I’m—”
“If you’re not from Denham’s office, what are you doing here?”
“I’m here about the executive assistant position open for Mr. Ambercroft.”
His whole demeanor changed instantly. His back straightened, the hint of a smile that had been playing at the edge of his mouth disappeared and he gave her a once-over that bordered on offensive. He seemed to catalog every inch of her bust, the narrowness of her waist and the exact flare of her hips—as if he could see through the boxy cut of her fashionable but reserved suit His eyes made a slow sweep of her legs before coming back to her face.
“I’m sorry, Miss—” he glanced at her résumé again “—Price.”
“I currently work for Price Manufacturing. My name is Madalyn Wier.”
The man stopped short again, but Madalyn couldn’t begin to guess what he was thinking. She had the distinct impression he’d just done another mercurial shift, but she was clueless as to why a bit of the warmth returned to his face. Now he was reading her résumé as if he hadn’t seen it before.
This time, when he looked up, the smile was back, but she would have bet her last nickel that something significant had changed. It wasn’t in the curve of his lips; it was in his eyes, eyes that said he missed little.
“Ms. Wier, I apologize for the mix-up. Would you come into my office? I’d like to get this straightened out.”
He didn’t give her a chance to waver. He came closer and took her elbow, ushering her politely toward his door.
Madalyn’s breath caught again at his touch, and she had to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other without tripping. She could only hope she appeared calm and professional on the outside, because her insides were a wreck. She had no choice, really, but to go along with Philip, and she offered a quick prayer that this impromptu interview would be just the break she needed.
Philip’s mind was already whirling as he walked around his desk and took a seat while he studied her file with more care. When he was finished, he stalled for a bit more time by shuffling a pile of papers. He hadn’t gotten where he was by being slow on his feet, and if he played this right, he might just salvage a week from hell and get some information on a company he had his eye on, to boot.
Philip didn’t question the marvelous opportunities that had come to him over the years, events he could never have planned or predicted. He was, however, smart enough to act on them...immediately.
He’d been about to dismiss Ms. Wier out of hand—after all, she was much too attractive to even consider interviewing for Gene’s position—when a plan started coming together. There were those who didn’t think he had a heart, much less a libido, but Ms. Wier had already proven she could raise both his pulse and his... imagination. Feeling that instantaneous reaction, that unexpected response, hadn’t happened in so very long, he couldn’t help but be amazed. And it had certainly never happened with an employee.
But Ms. Wier’s attributes weren’t the point. The fact that she met so many needs at one time made her beauty serendipitous.
Number one, his secretary was on an extended leave, and he hadn’t kept a temp for more than a day for the last week. One had walked out at lunch and never returned. One had been pregnant and gone into premature labor. One had taken ill with the stomach flu. He wasn’t sure why his luck was running so sour in this area, but it was becoming a bit annoying.
Number two, Ms. Wier had an impressive résumé, including a tenure with a company he had his sights on. Price Manufacturing would make a nice addition to the Ambercroft portfolio of companies.
Number three, he wanted more information before he made a move on Price Manufacturing, and who knew more about a company than an executive assistant?
Hell would freeze over, however, before he let his little brother hire a secretary like Ms. Wier. Gene had used Ambercroft, Inc., as his personal procuring service for the last time. When he came back from Europe with his latest secretary-turned-lover, he was going to find an efficient, talented and decidedly matronly secretary waiting for him. Philip had already thought of a few words to describe Ms. Wier, but matronly wasn’t even in the same dictionary.
So, his most urgent needs were met in the attractive little package sitting patiently across from him with her hands folded in her lap. He’d have to do all the sensitive letters himself since his secretary wouldn’t be back for at least a month, but he could get a mountain of correspondence on other matters dictated and off his desk. Surely, in the weeks remaining until Mrs. Montague returned, he could get caught up and possibly discover some interesting information about Price Manufacturing. Then, with Gene’s secretary firmly replaced by a Mrs. Montague clone, he’d find a slot for Ms. Wier in one of Ambercroft’s many departments, and his life would return to normal.
What more could he ask for?
A glance at the stockinged calf revealed beneath Ms. Wier’s proper navy skirt gave a hint at exactly what more he could ask for—in the privacy of his own mind, of course. He’d never fraternized with an employee in his life, and he wasn’t about to start now. That was Gene’s department....
Yet, Philip doubted it would be a hardship to dictate to Ms. Wier’s delicate, oval face. Mrs. Montague was a handsome woman, no doubt, but she was almost as old as his mother and not exactly his type. He respected Mrs. Montague a great deal, and valued her as an employee, but the sight of her ankle had never even come close to making his pants seem tighter.
Reining in his wandering thoughts, Philip pulled out another smile. “Your résumé says you take shorthand.”
“Yes, I do,” she affirmed, straightening slightly in her chair.
“Good, good. It’s hard to find a secretary who knows shorthand these days. I confess I’m a holdout who hates those little tapes and prefers to dictate the old-fashioned way.”
Her answer was a polite smile.
He folded his hands on his desktop and put on his “Let’s get comfortable, shall we?” expression. “There seems to be a little misunderstanding here, but I think we can work this out. You see, my brother is in Europe right now and won’t be back to interview for his position for several weeks, I’m sure.”
He paused as a thought suddenly occurred to him. Why had the headhunters sent someone who looked like this to interview in the first place? He’d spoken personally with the head of the agency, making it clear exactly what he wanted in prospective candidates for the position. He’d offered a salary that was sure to bring in applicants with impeccable references and long years of experience. That usually meant someone older than thirty, and Philip had more like forty-five or fifty in mind.
So what was a woman like Ms. Wier doing here? The agency valued his business too much to ever make a mistake like that.
“Ms. Wier, how did you hear about our opening?”
Philip had watched too many people across a negotiating table to miss the tiny flicker in her eyes. Possible coup or not, if she lied to him—and he’d know—she was out on her cute little rear.
“To be honest, I heard through a friend-of-a-friend kind of thing. This is a job I’m highly qualified for, and I made the decision to take advantage of the valuable information.”
He liked a person with initiative—to a certain point. He admired gumption in a competitor and in an employee, as long as they didn’t push too far. He appreciated that she’d taken an opportunity, especially in this instance where it worked to his advantage, but he also made a note to watch her and make sure her proactive approach didn’t end up biting him on the behind.
Although she had an excellent poker face, he could feel her tension. He waited just long enough to make his unspoken point before nodding.
“As a businessman, I can respect that.” He reread her file and let his ambiguous response hang. “So tell me why you’re leaving Price Manufacturing.”
Before the words even came out of her mouth, he knew she was about to give him the prepared story. He hadn’t turned over his family’s measly ten million this many times without honing a certain amount of psychic skill.
“Mrs. Price wants to come back to work. She says she’s bored, and after all, she ran the company with Mr. Price for years. They’re a good team. Anyway, they told me to take as much time as I needed to find a good job, but once I was settled, Mrs. Price would take the office back over. They pride themselves on being a family-run operation, you know.”
Yes, he knew. He knew Eva and Martin Price socially, and he knew their excellent reputation.
“Then I’m sure they will give you a good reference.”
He let her sit a moment longer, waiting until she uncrossed her legs and recrossed them before continuing. “As I said, my brother won’t be back for quite some time, but as it happens, my own secretary is out, and I need a temporary to stand in for her. Could I interest you in working for me for a few weeks? We’ll call it a dry run, if you will. When Mrs. Montague returns, you may still wish to apply for the opening, but if that doesn’t work out, I feel sure we can find a place for someone of your talent at Ambercroft, Inc.”
Philip named a salary even higher than he’d offered the headhunters, making the money alone worth her while to take the temporary position. Sweetening the deal with a promise of permanent employment was mere icing. This way, everybody won. Even Gene, although Philip had no intention of his brother ever knowing about this little venture.
His watch gave a small beep and he glanced at his wrist. Only five o’clock? Good, he could still get some work done.
Ms. Wier shifted in her seat, recapturing his attention. He’d never hired an employee based on their physical appearance, but in her case, he just might be tempted to make an exception. He had always been fond of brunettes, and her green eyes were bright and inviting. She had the presence and grace that said she was completely unaware of the power of her classic features. She had a timeless beauty that reminded him of some of the stunning women who’d starred in the old movies he favored. Elizabeth Taylor in her prime, Katherine Hepburn, Ingrid Bergman.
To be practical, however, by hiring Madalyn he’d have much more than someone pleasing to look at. He’d have a qualified, motivated assistant.
“Well, Ms. Wier? What do you think?”
“I’m very interested, of course. I’d need to know if medical benefits are available during this... dry run...as you call it, and if vacation will begin to accrue.”
He hid a smile. No overeager cream puff here. He was beginning to like her more and more. He despised ingratiating fools and pushovers.
“Medical, yes, we’ll get you on the corporate policy right away. Vacation and sick time will begin once you’re a permanent employee.”
She nodded, as if expecting his response. “Then I’ll say yes, Mr. Ambercroft.”
Philip wasn’t smug, but Gene wasn’t the only Ambercroft who could be charming. “Please, if we’re going to work together you must call me Philip. If I can call you Madalyn...?”
“Of—of course.”
“Great.” He shifted the folders on his desk and tossed a notepad and pen across to her. “Let’s get started.”
Chapter Two
Madalyn shook a cramp out of her wrist. Now she knew why they called Philip Ambercroft a tyrant!
Thank God her mother was visiting from Louisiana. She was lucky enough to have a private sitter who never worried about an exact pick-up time, and she had a cousin in town who was always delighted to get Erin in an emergency, but she hated to ask unless it was absolutely necessary. At least her guilt was somewhat mitigated by knowing Erin was with her grandmother—someone who worshiped the ground Erin toddled on.
She reminded herself not to complain. Even if it was a bit surprising to be put to work the same day as an interview—and at five o’clock in the evening at that—at least Philip was interested in her. And if she made a good impression, her future employment might just be sealed. He was by no means bound by what he’d said earlier, so she wanted to be dam sure to earn that permanent position.
She knew some called him ruthless, castigating him as a takeover tycoon, but she had read enough about him to know that while he wasn’t totally altruistic, he did rebuild the floundering companies he bought and turned them into cash cows. She admired Philip’s nononsense approach to business and his refusal to accept less than the best from his employees. She had scraped and pulled herself inch by inch out of the suffocating poverty of her hometown, and had gotten where she was by giving one hundred and ten percent at every job she’d ever had. Philip seemed like a boss who could appreciate that kind of work ethic.
As long as he didn’t take advantage too often. She admitted she was a bit sensitive in this area, but she was working on not letting a past mistake color her whole future. Not every handsome boss was a lying snake in the grass.
Of course, now that she’d taken dictation steadily for over an hour, which still had to be typed up, a part of Madalyn wanted to tell him to take his job and...well, do something anatomically impossible with it. The thought was fleeting, and she nearly gave her desk a superstitious rap. She didn’t want to jinx anything, even with an errant though.
She didn’t mind giving one hundred and ten percent, but today was her birthday. Her mother was waiting to go out for Chinese food, and then they were going to take turns arguing over who got to hold Erin while they watched the movie Madalyn had rented the night before. It probably wasn’t most people’s idea of a big birthday bash, but it suited her just fine.
Madalyn glanced at the clock. It was almost seven and she wasn’t even close to being finished. Picking up the telephone, she sighed and dialed her home number. She brushed a wayward strand of not-quite brown, not-quite-red hair out of the way as she pressed the receiver to her ear.
Her mother’s Cajun accent jarred her out of her wandering thoughts.
“Et?”
“Hi, Mom, it’s me again. Looks like we have to cancel my birthday plans. I’m not even close to getting out of here.”
“You’re still working? My goodness!”
“I’ll tell you all about it when I get there, but that may not be for a while. Don’t let me forget to call Mr. Price at home and let him know what happened.”
“I’ll write you a note. I’m sorry about tonight, shay. But my angel and I are having a good time.”
“Oh, yeah? And how many cookies has she conned you out of?”
“Don’ you talk about my angel that way!”
“Mother...”
“Just three, but they were just a bit and a piece—”
“Mother, don’t you dare give her another one. Has she eaten any dinner at all?”
“Yes, and had a bath, and she’s rubbin’ her little eyes. I swear she looks like your papa lookin’ back at me.”
Madalyn smiled. “I know, Mama. Listen, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you soon. Kiss my sweetie for me.”
“Sho’ thing. You drive home careful, he’ya?”
“Yes, I hear. Love you.”
Madalyn hung up, her good humor restored. With her usual determination, she faced the computer screen and typed the pages of dictation she’d taken. Once she was in the groove, she lost track of time again, and it was only when she realized she was in danger of a permanent crick in her neck that she stopped and stretched.
“Madalyn?”
Philip’s voice startled her, making her heart race. She hadn’t even heard him open his door.
“I’m sorry I’ve taken such advantage of you on your birthday. I was looking over your résumé again and the date finally struck me.”
She tried to make her smile sincere. “That happens sometimes. It’s not the end of the world.”
“Still, I’ve thrust you straight into the lion’s den and didn’t even think about the time. Let me take you to dinner to make up for it.”
“Oh, no, that’s not necessary—”
“I insist. What do you like? Chinese? Mexican?”
“I love Chinese, but—”
Madalyn paused, sensing a challenge in his voice. Good heavens, hadn’t she proven already that she was a team player? A cold fear settled in her stomach, and she hoped she hadn’t misjudged Philip—she hoped he wasn’t the philandering type. But then, she’d misjudged before...
“Philip, listen, I have to be up-front with you.” She took a deep breath, hoping she wasn’t about to put herself out of a job. “I’m not comfortable mixing business with social events. I appreciate the offer and all, but I’d rather not.”
He looked surprised, but nodded graciously.
“Very well, then. Why don’t you get out of here and salvage what’s left of your evening?”
“I appreciate that. I’m close to being done, so I’d like to finish these letters so we can start fresh tomorrow. If that’s all right.”
“That’s not necessary—”
“Really, I’d rather. It shouldn’t take me but an hour or so. I’m on a roll. Unless I’m keeping you?”
“Not at all. I appreciate the offer.”
He retreated again into his office, and his phone line lit up almost immediately. It only served to heighten her image of Philip at his desk seven days a week. She didn’t need her insider info to know that he was a driven man; that was the first thing any article said about him. Now that she’d met him in person, his drive emanated from him in a palpable wave. She wondered for a moment just what she’d gotten herself into, and decided just as quickly that she’d work weekends without complaint, if he asked, for the experience this was going to provide her, and the security it would give her and Erin.
She wasn’t sure what could have surprised her more, a mere forty-five minutes later, when the elevator door opened and a man came in bearing white plastic bags. The smells emanating from the bags made her stomach grumble, and she didn’t have to be able to read the red symbols on the outside of the bags to know a feast had just been delivered from Woo Duck Fong’s Chinese Emporium. Fong’s was her favorite restaurant in the whole world.
Philip must have heard the commotion, for his door opened and he took care of the delivery guy with a minimum of fuss. She watched, amusement warring with concern.
“Philip—”
“Nope, no arguments. I’ve worked you like a slave driver on your birthday. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with my invitation, so I did the next best thing.”
While he was speaking, he’d been pulling out little boxes and covered bowls. He moved files from her desk to the floor to make room.
“You really shouldn’t have.”
A smile transformed his face, making her heart turn over.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe she should keep looking until she found a kind, toadfaced man who was at least five inches shorter than her to work for. Anyone but a tall, dark man with a smile that could light up entire rooms at a time.
Madalyn didn’t want to admit how nervous his proximity made her, and she tried to tell herself it was because he was her new boss, not because he was so devastatingly handsome. It was nearly eight o’clock at night and the man’s suit looked as fresh and crisp as if he’d just put it on. She, on the other hand, felt rumpled and wrinkled, which was not unexpected after the day she’d had. Her suit jacket was hanging on the back of her chair and now she wished she hadn’t taken it off.
Giving herself a stern mental rap on the knuckles, she told herself to be gracious, eat the food that was making her mouth water and then get home.
“Thank you for the dinner. It smells great. But how did you know Fong’s is my favorite?”
“Isn’t it everybody’s?” he asked, his expression teasing. “The truth is, I had no idea, but you said you loved Chinese, and this is the best food this side of Hong Kong, so it made sense to me....”
Somehow she knew he wasn’t speaking metaphorically. He’d probably been to Hong Kong a dozen times and knew exactly who served the best Chinese food this side of the Pacific.
Philip pulled one of the guest chairs closer to the desk and settled back with a carton of beef and broccoli.
“So tell me about yourself, your family.” He grimaced and waved his chopsticks in the air. “Wait! Forget I asked that. My attorney said he’d have my head if I asked any personal questions of my employees.”
She had to smile at his obvious disgust. “I take it you’ve been thoroughly warned about avoiding discrimination lawsuits.”
Stabbing a bright green broccoli flower, he chomped it with a satisfied sigh before nodding. “Sometimes I think we’ve just about gone over the edge with political correctness. I hate having to guard every word I say.”
Madalyn tilted her head to the side. “I’m surprised With your business reputation, I’d think you’d be well-tuned to this stuff.”
“This stuff, as you put it, is taking all the fun out of business.”
“Well, don’t worry. You didn’t offend me, and I promise not to sue.”
He returned her smile and leaned forward, reaching for a packet of soy sauce. “Good. So tell me about yourself, Madalyn Wier.”
“What would you like to know?”
“Everything. Start with the usual, like where you’re from, and we’ll go from there.”
Other than perfunctory information, she hardly expected true interest from him. After a few unimportant details, undoubtedly he’d carry the conversation. Which was fine with her, since he’d been a source of fascination for her for a long time. She wanted to know everything about him, and to have the ball in her court was slightly disconcerting.
“I was raised in a little town called Asulta, Louisiana.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
She laughed. “Of course you haven’t! It’s a tiny little town, meriting a mere pinprick on a Rand-McNally map. We’re far off the beaten path and miles from the nearest highway, so the only industry in our town is a couple of garment factories. Everyone worked for one or the other, except for the few folks like my father who worked for the school system.”
“What did he do?”
“He was a janitor until he died when I was eight”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry that he was a janitor or sorry he died?”
His lips curved in an answer to her cheeky question. When he smiled, his face was transformed from godlike perfection to a boyish charm that captivated her. It took yet another stern mental warning to remind her that she didn’t need to be captivated by her new boss—even if he was just a temporary boss.
“I’m sorry that you lost your father,” he clarified with definite sincerity in his voice, despite his teasing smile. “I lost my father when I was in college, and that was hard enough. I can’t imagine being as young as eight.”
“It was rough,” she admitted without rancor. “I was a late-life surprise for my parents, so I have to confess I was fairly doted on.”
His expression turned slightly ironic. “I can see we had vastly different childhoods.”
“I’ll say,” she said with a laugh. “I’d never even seen a tennis court, except on television, until I was a teenager.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he replied. “I’m just trying to picture my father as doting, and the image just won’t gel.”
“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say,” she admitted hesitantly. He’d startled her as she never expected something so personal to enter the conversation. Weren’t negative family comments a no-no in the rich person’s rule book?
Philip shook his head as if suddenly realazing what he’d said.
“Sorry about that,” he said with a sheepishness that reached out and caught her imagination. “Didn’t mean to get maudlin on you.”
Maudlin wasn’t the word she would have chosen. Introspective, maybe, but that’s what nabbed her attention so fully. The image she was getting of him conflicted with the picture she’d already drawn in her mind. She expected someone cold and calculating, someone who never looked at the past, yet she was facing someone quite charming with an undercurrent of power and magnetism that she would do well to not underestimate.
He put his entrée on the desk before shifting to casually rest his arm on the back of his chair. The move stretched his dress shirt across his chest, his jacket now discarded, and her mouth went a little dry. Good heavens, the man was dreamy! Maybe it was her imagination, but he bore an uncanny resemblance to her favorite actor, although Mr. Brosnan might argue the presumption. Still, with the five-o’clock shadow shading his face and his dark hair just everso-slightly mussed, she’d have to say that yes, indeed, Philip Ambercroft looked rather Bond-ish at the moment
“So tell me about your favorite birthday memory,” he said, startling her out of her wayward thoughts.
Wrinkling her brow, Madalyn tried to think. Favorite birthday?
“I guess it would be my eighth, just before my father died. A carnival was in a town close to ours and where my dad got the money, I have no idea, but we all went and rode every ride, ate every kind of junk food, and I got to ride the little Shetland ponies—you know, where they walk around slowly in a circle? Real excitement for a girl who’d never even seen a horse up close and personal. What about you?”
“Easy. I was sixteen and at boarding school in Switzerland. My parents couldn’t make it over and I spent the entire weekend by myself on the slopes. No pressure, no one watching, no yardsticks.”
“Your sixteenth birthday by yourself? That sounds sad.”
“Not at all. It was the first time I felt like my birthday wasn’t some kind of litmus test about my reaching my manhood.”
He said manhood with such derision, she couldn’t begin to imagine growing up under such pressure. The image was heart-wrenching, one he’d managed to convey in a sentence, and she was once again stunned by this very personal glimpse into a very private man’s life.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Holidays are special to me. Especially Christmas and birthdays. Sounds like you could take ‘em or leave ’em.”
“Oh, not so. And forgive me for being so talkative. I don’t know what’s gotten into me tonight.”
“Must be my talent at scintillating dialogue,” she said drolly.
“Must be,” he agreed, his tongue in his cheek.
“You’ll have to remember where to come when you’re depressed from now on. Just call me Dr. Madalyn.”
“Well, Doctor, I think your dinner is getting cold so we’ll have to finish the session another day.”
“Oh, dam,” she said with mock regret, digging in to her orange chicken again and taking a bite. She sighed with sheer pleasure and wiped her mouth with her napkin.
As they finished the soup and egg rolls, the conversation became light and mundane. They talked about the building, about some of Ambercroft’s diverse holdings—nothing she didn’t already know from her research. But it was fun to listen to him talk, to watch his face brighten with pride. He really did love his company, and the many philanthropic endeavors they were involved in.
He even mentioned the gala Eva Price was chairing for the Pediatric AIDS League.
“Are you going?” She couldn’t stop enthusiasm from coloring her voice. How wonderful for Eva, to grab a contributor the likes of the Ambercroft family.
“I haven’t committed yet. Are you attending?”
“Um, yes,” she said, now hesitant and unsure why. “I’m sort of on the committee. I’ve done several with Eva, and it’s wonderful to be a part of such good work.”
“Then I’ll just have to find that invitation and RSVP, won’t I?”
Not sure how she was supposed to respond, she concentrated on the last of her fried rice. The food had been great, and she’d enjoyed talking to Philip, but Madalyn was ready for the evening to be over. It had been a long day, she was tired and she wanted to snuggle her baby for a few minutes before dropping into bed. She thought about telling Philip about Erin, but she didn’t want to start another long conversation.
Philip surprised her when he began clearing the desk.
“I can do that,” she said, preparing to help.
“No. You shut down the computer and get your things. It’s time for the birthday girl to open her fortune cookie and then go home.”
Dutifully cracking the treat, she opened the little slip of paper and immediately laughed.
“Come on, don’t keep me in suspense.”
“It says, ‘A new job awaits you.”’
“You’re joshing me.”
She handed over the fortune, and he laughed with her. “Well, I’m wondering about mine, then. It says, ‘You are next in line for a promotion.”’
She cocked her head. “Can the boss get a promotion?”
“Beats me. But I’ll be sure to bring this to my next board of directors meeting.”
With another round of laughter, they were ready to call it a night. In no time, they were in the elevator and headed for the parking garage. Philip had been so polite the entire evening, it didn’t surprise her when he took the keys from her and opened her car door. Still, she stood there, trying to display the proper amount of righteous, feminist indignation. The problem was, he’d moved so confidently, with such arrogant smoothness, she forgot what she was supposed to do. All she could concentrate on was how close he was, how alone they were, how soft his lips looked. The awkwardness seemed to have vanished, and for the merest second, it seemed he was bending closer to her and she gasped. Yes, she wanted to kiss him, wanted to see if he was everything her imagination promised—
Reality snapped back into place and they both jerked away at the same time. Humiliation burned her face and she fussed with her purse strap so she didn’t have to look him in the eye. Maybe she could find a way to blame this on fatigue....
Wishing she could melt into the pavement, she managed to get in the car and strap her seat belt on.
“Good night, Madalyn,” he said, shutting her door for her. “Sleep in tomorrow. You deserve it.”
She wished she knew what he was thinking. Even more, she wished she could hide her feelings and thoughts as well as he could. She could only imagine the shade of red on her cheeks.
“Good night. And thank you again for dinner.”
He nodded and stepped back so she could pull away, waiting until she’d disappeared from sight before going back to the elevator.
What the hell was wrong with him? When he’d called in dinner, he’d admitted it was a little unusual, but in his wildest dreams he’d never imagined that his secretary would turn him into a jabberjaw. He never talked about his childhood, and he never, ever talked about it with a stranger. But she’d tossed his questions back to him, and he’d responded, the words coming out of his mouth of their own volition.
Which was a huge sign that he needed to stay away from this woman in anything resembling a personal conversation. If she could turn what he had formerly considered his iron-clad control to mush this effortlessly, heaven forbid if she ever asked any really private questions. He’d probably rattle off his Swiss bank-account numbers.
Then his behavior by her car. He was sure he was certifiable after that move. But she’d been so close, and the faint trace of her perfume had made him forget who he was, who she was. All that he’d been thinking at that moment was that he wanted to kiss her, taste her, see if she was as perfect as she appeared.
Thankfully something had snapped him back. Now he had to make sure that this incident was never reprised.
He just hadn’t expected to like her so much. He wasn’t sure why, except maybe that while he had an extreme respect for Mrs. Montague, he’d never taken her or any other secretary out for a private dinner... although, technically, this dinner had been “in” not “out.” Anniversaries and other special occasions were noted with bonuses and gift certificates for Mrs. Montague to enjoy with her family. It was a pattern that made them both comfortable.
But Madalyn had him thinking about sex—hot, hard, driving sex, and then slow, long and languorous sex—and all within hours of meeting her. It wasn’t anything she’d done. Not one movement, not one look, not one word had been suggestive or inappropriate.
It was something primal that called to him past her proper demeanor. Then she’d unknowingly pricked his conscience when they’d spoken about the Price gala, and he’d felt himself withdrawing.
What had Sir Walter Scott said? “Oh, what a tangled web we weave...”
Suddenly he wasn’t so sure working with her was such a good idea after all. Even if it meant not capturing Price Manufacturing, he decided having her so near was too risky. She messed with his equilibrium and he couldn’t afford that; he wouldn’t take that risk.
He had too much to do to be dealing with distractions by his own staff. Especially this kind of distraction. The best thing to do would be to cut his losses and get another temp. What was one more anyway, the way things had been going?
Feeling a pang of regret, he decided he’d have to break the news to her tomorrow.
Chapter Three
Madalyn was surprised to find Philip wasn’t there when she arrived the next morning. A veteran early riser, especially now that she was a single mother, she hadn’t taken him up on his offer to sleep in. She couldn’t have, even if she’d wanted to. Erin’s idea of sleeping in was letting the sun actually peek over the horizon.
She wasn’t surprised, though, to see a stack of work neatly aligned on the corner of the desk. From the looks of it, he hadn’t taken his own counsel to go home. He had to have been there past midnight to have gotten so much done.
She was grateful, though. On the drive in, she’d berated herself for being so determined to finish up last night. She feared having to sit there and twiddle her thumbs, which would have made her miserable. She supposed she should have known better. Philip was never idle, so why should his staff be? Besides, being busy made the day go faster, and it felt like she got home to Erin sooner.
By the time the elevator doors opened and he emerged, she was engrossed in a prospectus from Philip to the members of a joint venture interested in buying one of his companies. It should have been dry, dull work—inputting numbers into a spreadsheet, typing a long document from one of the tapes Philip had claimed to hate. Instead, she was intrigued.
“I thought I told you to sleep in.”
Madalyn wished there had been a more teasing quality to his voice. “You did, but I’m not very good at that. It was hard enough waiting until nine to get here.”
“Oh, well, yes, I appreciate your dedication. Listen, Madalyn...”
“Yes?”
“You see, about last night, I—”
The phone rang and she hesitated, picking it up when he gave an exasperated nod toward the phone.
“Mr. Ambercroft’s office,” she answered in a crisp, professional tone.
There was no response.
“Hello? May I help you?”
“Who is this?”
Madalyn told herself not to be put out by the imperious tone in the woman’s voice. “I’m Madalyn Wier, Mr. Ambercroft’s assistant.”
“Of course,” the woman said slowly. “Is my son in his office?”
“One moment please.”
He raised an eyebrow as she put the call on hold.
“It’s your mother,” she said, answering his silent question.
Philip rubbed his forehead for a moment and when he dropped his hand, she thought she saw weariness in his incredibly blue eyes.
“I’ll take it in here.”
He disappeared into his office, shutting the door behind him. She understood his reaction. She loved her own mother dearly, and worried about her increasingly poor health, but no one on the face of the earth could exasperate her faster. She was grateful that her mother’s visit had only produced one argument so far on Madalyn’s single status. It was the only real source of contention between them. Their usual argument consisted of Madalyn trying to get her mother to move to Dallas so they could see each other more.
Philip came back out sometime later, and asked her about a file she had waiting for him. She stopped him when he turned to go back into his office.
“Was there something you wanted to say to me before we were interrupted?”
He looked at her for the longest time, the intensity of his gaze making her decidedly uncomfortable. It was almost as though he were battling himself, and she wondered if her own anxiety was what someone felt when facing a firing squad.
“No,” was all he said before he shut his door behind him.
She didn’t have to be hit on the head to understand that whatever subject he had been about to bring up was now closed and off-limits.
Philip leaned against his door, unaware until he looked down that he was crushing the file Madalyn had given him. After tossing the papers on his desk, he sat with controlled movements and leaned back.
First, he’d surprised himself by telling his mother more about Madalyn than that she was a temporary secretary. It had somehow slipped out that she had worked for Price Manufacturing, and even more startling, he’d said something about her amazing skills.
His mother’s pause had spoken volumes. She was obviously as taken aback as he was to be discussing such mundane details with her. They weren’t usually chatty.
Then he’d felt doubly foolish to hear his mother admonish him to not let his emotions interfere with his business sense. Since when had he needed his mother’s advice? Not that she was ever hesitant to give it, but Philip had drawn the line years ago to remind his mother that not only was he nearly forty years old, but he was more than capable of making decisions without his mama’s help.
He took responsibility for his actions, mistakes and all. Some lessons had been hard learned, such as losing his heart to Hannah Hollingsworth in college. That vivid lesson had made clear the fantasy of love conquering all. He hadn’t thought it mattered that the Ambercrofts couldn’t trace their roots to the Mayflawer. They’d been proud, self-made Americans... even if they glossed over the fact that Grandfather Ambercroft was the one who had really boosted the family fortune by bootlegging whiskey during Prohibition. As for himself, Philip thought his grandfather had been a hell of a guy, and he remembered listening intently to the stories the man had told about his youth. Philip suspected his grandfather had told the stories to irritate his mother as much as anything else.
But Hannah’s family had a decided lack of humor, and put exorbitant pride in their mostly blue-blood ancestry, but he’d foolishly believed that wasn’t enough to keep them apart. He’d begged her to run away with him, to marry him, and then they’d force her parents to accept him. But Hannah had been unable to defy her parents for a man they had considered well beneath them on the social register.
Philip was sure the day she’d refused him was the day his heart had frozen solid, as so many people believed to be true, and he’d vowed never again to let his emotions override his common sense.
Since then, he’d never let anything interfere with his goals. Now, all of a sudden, he’s about to give up a lucrative business deal just because his new secretary—his temporary secretary—gave him a hard-on? Not bloody likely. He was going to get his brain and his libido under control and remember what he’d planned. He had no intention of doing anything illegal, or even immoral. When the time was right, he was going to flat-out ask her about Price Manufacturing. That was hardly diabolical.
He smoothed out the papers he’d wrinkled and sat down to put his mind to work with a ruthlessness that had made him the success he was. His eyes lost focus as his mind began to whirl. Price Manufacturing wasn’t his pressing issue at the moment, so he set it aside. His present goal was McConnally Machinery.
He picked up the phone and punched out a number with quick, hard jabs.
When he’d finished his conversation, he felt a stiffness in his neck, but he ignored it as he hit the intercom. “Madalyn, would you come in here, please?”
“Yes, sir?” she asked a moment later from his doorway.
“Sit down.”
She did as ordered and he was impressed at how well she hid her curiosity. Her demeanor was relaxed, her hands folded in apparent calmness, her expression open with a proper amount of question in her eyes.
He was going to go with his gut on this, for more than one reason, but he was depending on her experience as a high-level assistant in assuming she could maintain the poker face she’d displayed. If he was wrong, he might just kill two plans with one foul-up.
“Once again I’m springing something on you suddenly, but the negotiations on the file you just gave me have been moved up to tomorrow. On long sessions, such as this one will be, I usually take Mrs. Montague with me, as her note-taking skills are superb. Would you be willing, on this short notice, to fill in? I’d like to leave this afternoon, as things will start early in the morning. We’ll be back late tomorrow.”
She hesitated. Normally she couldn’t have even considered his request as she wouldn’t leave Erin with anyone overnight, but her mother was going to be there for at least another week.
“Is there a problem?” he prompted in the ensuing silence.
“I need to tell you something that I failed to mention yesterday. I have a child, and I’m a single parent.”
“Oh,” he said, not quite hiding a moment of surprise. “Of course, I understand then—”
“But it so happens that my mother is in town visiting, and if we’ll only be gone one night, I don’t see that it will be a problem. Where will we be going?”
Her matter-of-factness must have short-circuited his objections, for his tone became completely businesslike again.
“Mobile, Alabama. McConnally Machinery is the company. They machine ship propellers and shafts. I’ve been playing cat-and-mouse with the owner for a year now.”
He opened the folder and handed her a black-and-white photograph of a man in his fifties, his silver hair combed back off his forehead. He had an open, engaging face, his skin slightly battered by years spent in the salty air and elements.
“His name is Connar McConnally. When you meet him, don’t let his Southern, good-ol’-boy manners fool you. He likes to play the dumb hick, but this guy’s sharp. His company is relatively small, but he’s managed to keep a big chunk of the business on Mobile Bay all to himself. People whose very livelihoods depend on their boats being in the water will wait until this man—” Philip nodded toward the picture “—can get to their repairs. He started making noises about selling a year ago, but he won’t play ball yet.”
Madalyn studied the photograph and then handed it back across the desk. “What will I be doing for you there?”
“Be my eyes and ears. Do more than take notes. Watch people. Give me your impressions of their body language as well as their words.”
“Do you think he’s hiding something?”
Philip smiled. “Businessmen always have something to hide, but my interest lies in how big that something is. I think he’s just smart enough not to appear too eager, but I want to make sure before we toss the first pitch. My goal is to talk him into letting Ambercroft take over, but get him to stay on and run things. I’m going to try and sell him on the idea that all he really wants is some of the burden taken off his shoulders, but this way he keeps the benefits of a company he’s so proud of without the day-to-day worries.”
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