From Boss to Bridegroom (2 page)

Patience, she counseled herself.

“I'm Lucy Lowry, Sadie Meeks's niece. We have a three o'clock interview.”

“Is it that late already?” he barked, while still assaulting the keyboard.

“I'm afraid it is.”

“Well, I don't have time for you right this minute. I have to smooth some ruffled feathers. Sit down and wait.”

“Excuse me?”

Lucy hadn't intended to use such an imperious tone with him. It had just come out that way in response to the increasing outrage she was feeling. But she didn't regret it. No one spoke to her like that and got away with it.

Apparently her tone wasn't lost on the man because he stopped what he was doing, stood up straighter and looked directly at her for the first time through cobalt-blue eyes that might have caused a lesser person to cower.

But Lucy merely stood her ground.

His very sharp jaw pulsed as if he'd just clenched his teeth, but he adopted a more businesslike attitude. “Please take a seat while I make a phone call, Ms. Lowry, and I'll be with you as soon as possible.”

That was more like it.

“I'd be happy to,” she informed him, turning on her heels to sit on one of the six overstuffed chairs that lined the walls beneath paintings she recognized as originals of high-quality artists.

When he found what he was looking for on the computer—apparently a phone number—he sat in the desk chair and picked up the phone.

Lucy had to admit as she was forced to overhear the conciliatory call, though, that he handled it with aplomb. He put minimal blame on the temp, accepted
the responsibility for having heaped too many things on her at once, and he did it all without playing the sycophant, which someone else in a position of having needlessly inconvenienced an important client might have.

Lucy was impressed.

She also had the chance to take a good long look at him as he made dinner plans with the man on the other end of the line.

She'd realized how tall he was when he'd stormed into the waiting room—an intimidating six feet two inches of well-muscled, broad-shouldered self-possession. Along with his striking blue eyes and chiseled jawline, he had dark hair the color of espresso without cream, full eyebrows, an aquiline nose and intriguing lips—the upper one much thinner than the lower.

Her aunt had not been exaggerating when she'd said he was handsome. Handsome didn't begin to describe the whole package of incredible good looks, exquisitely honed physique and a presence that filled the room. Packaged in a gray Armani suit, a paler gray shirt as crisp as the moment it had come off the dry cleaner's press, and a silk tie that no doubt cost as much as Lucy's entire outfit, he was something to behold.

But only in a purely observational, objective way, Lucy was quick to assure herself. After all, it wasn't as if she were interested in the man himself. No matter how incredible-looking he was. Number one, she had
put romance on hold in her life to raise her son and had no intention of changing that for anyone. And number two, even if she hadn't, she knew better than to get anywhere near a personal relationship with a man like Rand Colton.

But the scenery was most assuredly fine. Her aunt hadn't been wrong about that.

Lucy just wasn't sure if it would be fine enough to compensate for his bad behavior if she were ever on the receiving end of his tirade.

His phone call finally ended, and without a word to her, he made another for dinner reservations at a restaurant Lucy had seen on the news just the night before. It had been touted as the finest D.C. had to offer, but according to the report, people were waiting up to six months to get in. It only took the mention of his name to get him a table for four at eight.

Then he hung up for the second time, lunged out of the chair and rounded the desk to perch a hip on its corner and focus his total attention on her just that quick.

“So you're Sadie's niece. I didn't know before I talked to her yesterday that she had one.”

“Lucy Lowry,” she repeated, unsure if he'd remembered her name. “And since I just heard you on the phone, I know now that you're Rand Colton.”

“Sorry for not introducing myself. Yes, I am.”

That seemed to stall the conversation as he studied her so intently she wanted to squirm. But she didn't. She wouldn't give him that advantage.

Then he said, “Sadie tells me you've been an executive secretary and done some legal research in the past, that legal research is what you want to do exclusively now but that you might be able to spare some time to straighten things up around here and keep me going until I can find someone else.”

“Sounds like my aunt did the interview for me.”

“She says you're as good as she is.”

“We've never worked together so I wouldn't know if that's the truth or not. But I am good.”

That brought a slow-as-molasses, one-sided smile from him, as if she'd said something with a double entendre he hadn't missed and wouldn't let go.

Lucy sat up straighter, anticipating an inappropriate comment.

But he surprised her and kept his wayward thoughts—if that was what had been behind his expression—to himself.

Unfortunately she was also aware of an unwarranted little flutter of something wholly unprofessional that that devilish quirk of a smile set off in her. And maintaining a stiff posture didn't help that one iota.

“Did Sadie warn you about what I require in the way of a secretary?”

“She said you were brusque and demanding.”

He laughed, a deep, barrel-chested sound that seemed to warm the air all around them. “Honesty. I like that. Did she warn you about the amount of
work I need from a secretary-slash-assistant-slash-researcher and the kind of hours I keep?”

“Basically. But you should know that I absolutely will not work past five o'clock.”

That sobered him and pulled his brows nearly together over those stunning eyes of his. “Okay, I'm going to go out on a limb here because you're Sadie's niece and this is somewhat of an informal interview. I'm in a mess and the last thing I need is another single mother running through this office. I've had my fill of them in the last two months. Every time I turn around they're on the phone with one of their kids or worrying about them or leaving to do something with them. So I'm not asking if you have children. But if you do, do us both a favor and just say thanks but no thanks here and now.”

Max was not something Lucy hid from anyone and it was on the tip of her tongue to admit that yes, she was a single mother. But at the same time it also occurred to her that it was none of Rand Colton's business one way or another. Being a parent—even a single parent—would not interfere with the job he wanted her to do for him. On the other hand, as vehement as he was on the subject of single mothers, Lucy thought that it could very well influence his opinion of her and that could reflect down the road in referrals or derogatory comments he might make to other attorneys she could be courting for research work.

She didn't deny having a child—that was something
she would never do. But since he was leaving it up to her to give him the sign that she did have a child by turning the job down, she just didn't do it. Instead she said, “I assure you I will not let personal calls interrupt my work and you'll get very full days out of me. They'll just end at five.”

“I work later than that.”

“I don't.”

Lucy met him eye to eye in the stare-down that followed, not so much as blinking before he did. Yes, she'd come to realize working with this man would give her just the opening and contacts she needed to garner future research work and so the job was more valuable to her than she'd originally thought, but it wasn't so vital that she would neglect Max because of it.

Rand Colton was the first to break the standoff.

“You know I'm under the gun here. The library back there—” he threw a nod over his shoulder in the direction of the corridor behind him “—is full of files that need to be updated, sorted and put away. I don't know how people can tout themselves as competent when they don't even seem to know the alphabet. I'm working on several big cases and, as I'm sure you've gathered just since arriving, my scheduling is a mess.”

“I can take care of all that.”

“But not after five.”

“I'll give you one late night to get things under
control. But after that I leave at five. No matter what.”

“Are you rushing off to a husband or a boyfriend who can't fix his own dinner?”

“Is exposure of my private life a factor in doing your filing?”

He sized her up again but his expression was still more amused than not.

“So I can take your services or leave them, but anything outside of the office is off-limits. Is that it?”

“I'm only temporary help,” she reminded him. “I don't see why too many details need to be explored for me to come in on that basis.”

He went on piercing her with those deep cobalt-blue eyes that seemed more remarkable the longer Lucy looked into them. But in the end he conceded.

“I'm trusting Sadie not to steer me wrong about your skills, so I guess I'll have to be satisfied with days that end at five. But you'd better be as good as your aunt says you are.”

“So I'm hired?”

“You're hired. Can you start tomorrow?”

“On a Friday?”

He nodded. “And stay tomorrow night the way you said you would.”

Rand Colton, playboy, wanted to work on a Friday night?

“All right,” Lucy agreed because it wasn't as if
she had anything planned. “Then I'll be here at eight tomorrow morning.”

“Sadie didn't tell you about that?”

About what? Her aunt hadn't told her much about him at all over the years, just as Sadie had apparently not told him about her.

“I don't know what you're referring to. I know you're a prominent attorney who was originally from California, and that's about all Sadie has told me.”

“She also told you I'm brusque and demanding,” he reminded, that quirky smile making a reappearance to let her know he found that amusing.

“And that you're brusque and demanding,” she confirmed. “But nothing about what's wrong with my being here at eight tomorrow morning.”

“I live in Georgetown, too. I'll pick you up at seven-thirty. I like to start work on the way in. It saves us going over what needs to be accomplished for the day when we both get here. So, seven-thirty,” he repeated. “Sharp. Don't keep me waiting.”

Since that sounded like a dismissal, Lucy stood.

“Seven-thirty. I'll be ready.”

“And I have you until late tomorrow night.”

Why did that sound like something that involved more than work?

She was probably just imagining it.

Or was he trying to charm her?

It didn't make any difference because she was absolutely going to ignore those flutters that were dancing around in her insides again in response.

“I'll even bring after-hours shoes,” she said as if to convince him.

“Okay. Then we're squared away.”

“But you will be looking for someone permanent to take my place? I really want to get into my freelance work at home before too long,” she said to make sure they were clear.

“I have an employment agency on it as we speak.”

“Good.”

“Say hello to Sadie for me,” Rand Colton said then.

“I will.”

“If you're half the secretary she is, I'll be satisfied.”

“I'm sure you'll be satisfied,” Lucy said, mortified the moment the word was out of her mouth that she'd unconsciously put a lascivious spin on it. “With my work,” she added in a hurry, compounding her error.

Rand Colton grinned at her this time. A full, delighted grin of glistening, perfect white teeth that let her know right then and there why he had so many women willing to spend time with him.

But he let her off the hook by crossing to the office door to hold it open for her and saying a simple, “Seven-thirty.”

Lucy fought the blush that was heating her cheeks and took her exit, unhappy that she also noticed the
fresh, clean scent of his aftershave as she passed in front of him to leave.

“I'll tell Sadie you said hello,” Lucy muttered just for something to say as she left the office.

But her encounter with Rand Colton didn't end then because he stayed in his doorway, watching her as she retraced her steps to the elevator. And when she hazarded a glance just before stepping into it, she found him still there, studying her.

But at least once the elevator doors closed she was alone and could breathe out the air she'd been unwittingly holding in her lungs.

It was going to be harder than she thought to work for Rand Colton, she realized on the way down from the twenty-third floor.

She could handle a difficult, demanding boss. But a difficult, demanding boss with gorgeous blue eyes, a body straight out of
Esquire
, charm, wit and even an unexpected sense of humor, who set off flutters in her stomach?

That was something else again.

R
and had never needed much sleep. The next morning, as usual, he was awake before the November sun had made an appearance. It was his morning routine right after waking to pour himself a cup of coffee, grab the just-delivered
Washington Post
and climb back into bed to read it before he showered.

But this morning, current events weren't holding his interest. His gaze kept straying to the clock on his nightstand as if that would make time go faster.

He didn't understand why he was so eager to get to work. He hadn't felt that way in a long while now.

In fact, he hadn't felt particularly eager about anything in a while now.

There were family problems back home in
Prosperino, California, and he'd tried to tell himself that was the cause. But the truth was that there was something about his own life that seemed to have taken a turn when he wasn't looking.

He didn't understand it, and he couldn't explain it. But in the last several months he'd lost some of the joy he'd found in things before. In his work. In his everyday life. In everything.

He still had the same intense drive to succeed, the same burning need to win his cases. That was just his nature—maybe because he was a firstborn. But he didn't feel that old desire to charge into his day anymore. Nor his after-hours activities either, whether it was dinner with a supermodel in town for a shoot, a party at the White House, a fund-raiser for one of his pet causes or a weekend in the country with a gorgeous woman. It was as if everything had become mundane to him. Even excelling at what he did or being on the A-list around town.

Yet here he was this morning, excited to get his day under way.

Why was that?

The day ahead of him was like any other one. He had calls to make, clients to see, briefs and motions to write, a court appearance after lunch and then more of the same when he got back. Then he had the evening working with Lucy Lowry to straighten up the messes left by the previous secretaries.

Lucy Lowry.

Thinking about her intensified his sense of eagerness.

His latest temporary secretary was causing it?

That couldn't be.

But there it was, irrefutably. What he was looking forward to today was seeing her again.

If that wasn't the oddest thing, he didn't know what was. He'd come away from their meeting yesterday thinking that
he
was who had really been interviewed. That
he'd
ended up being told how things were going to be run more than being the one to tell
her.
That
she'd
made the rules and left
him
to take it or leave it rather than the other way around. She was bossy and bold and outspoken.

So why was he so anxious to put himself in line for more of it?

She was great-looking, that was likely part of it. He was a sucker for a slender but curvy body with breasts that were just full enough. And that flawless ivory skin didn't hurt anything. Or that curly mahogany hair—she'd no doubt thought she'd camouflaged its natural seductiveness by trussing it up.

She had a pert little nose, too. Upturned at the end. That wasn't something he usually noticed, but for some reason he could picture it in his mind's eye as if he'd fashioned it himself.

Then there were her eyes. Wide eyes that offset her simmering sexuality with a more innocent, doelike quality. Sparkling, crystal-blue eyes the color of a clear mountain lake in springtime. They were alight
with life, with vigor, energy and spunk. Plenty of spunk.

In fact, he realized as he watched the sunrise through the sliding doors that led from his bedroom onto the balcony, she had so much spunk she reminded him of the characters Katharine Hepburn had played in so many of her movies with Spencer Tracy. Beautiful, feisty, sharp, smart and able to hold her own with Tracy whether as a lawyer or a reporter or a business whiz.

That was Lucy Lowry—beautiful, feisty, sharp and smart.

And he couldn't seem to get the image of her out of his mind—any more than he could slow the increased beat of his heart every time she slipped into his head.

So what did that mean? That after fifteen minutes with her he was infatuated?

That was ridiculous.

He hadn't been infatuated-at-first-sight with anyone since his first year in college. He hadn't been particularly infatuated even after-first-sight with anyone for longer than he could remember. He enjoyed the company of the various women in his life. He looked forward to spending time with them, to everything they did together. But infatuated?

That was something else entirely.

That was like having a schoolboy crush and that wasn't something Rand Colton did.

But how else could he explain being so excited about going to work?

Maybe he was just glad to finally have someone competent onboard. Maybe the idea of getting his office in order again had just gone to his head.

Of course it would help if she hadn't put that five-o'clock stipulation on things, he thought, actually searching for something contrary to find in the situation.

What was that all about anyway? She'd been so adamant.

There had to be a man behind it, he decided. Some guy she was rushing home to, whether she admitted it or not.

But that possibility rankled Rand and again he looked for a reason.

He had so much work he needed taken care of—that was all. And there she was decreeing that her day would end at five o'clock on the dot no matter what.

Decreeing—that rubbed him wrong, too. And there'd been plenty of it. Plenty of decreeing and dictating. And big baby-blue eyes or no big baby-blue eyes, he didn't like it.

Any better than he liked the thought that she might be running to some other man….

Oh, brother, there was
that
again.

Some
other
man? As if he were involved with her and a boyfriend would be
another
man in her life?

“Maybe I've been working too hard,” Rand
muttered to himself, disgusted with his own train of thought.

Lucy Lowry was just one more in a string of women who had passed through his office since Sadie's retirement, he told himself reasonably. There had been a dozen before her, there would be more after her, and that was all there was to it. What she did outside the office and who she fraternized with were her own business and no concern of his.

And being eager to see her again this morning?

It was just…

Well, he didn't know what it was. But it wasn't infatuation.

He tossed aside his unread newspaper, set his coffee cup on the nightstand and got out of bed, feeling more agitated than eager now. Because the very idea that he might be interested in Lucy Lowry was too much to bear.

Women didn't come into his life and tell him what to do. And he sure as hell didn't like them if they did. He was only tolerating it in Lucy Lowry because he was in dire need of office help and Sadie had assured him he would get it from her niece.

Yet despite all his sternness with himself, all his reasoning and rationalizing, as he headed for the shower Lucy Lowry popped into his mind's eye again and he found himself wondering what that burnished hair of hers looked like down, falling in loose curls around her face.

And if she might wear it that way today…

 

Lucy's doorbell rang at precisely seven-twenty-nine.

She opened the door, expecting to find Rand Colton on the stoop and instead faced a stout, balding older man in a chauffeur's uniform.

She glanced beyond him at the long black Town Car parked at the curb and assumed her boss was waiting there.

“I'll be right out,” she informed the driver.

Then she closed the door again and went into the living room where Max sat on Sadie's lap, his teddy bear snuggled into the crook of one pajama-clad arm.

“Okay, buddy, I have to go. Remember what I told you last night—Aunt Sadie will bring you to day care later this morning when she goes to read to the kids. Until then you'll stay at her place. She's making you a special breakfast and I put your dinosaur videotape in your backpack so you can watch that if you want or you can watch cartoons. Then you'll come home with Aunt Sadie this afternoon and stay with her again. I probably won't be home before you go to bed but it's only this once and I'll call you today and again tonight. Got all that?”

Max nodded solemnly, more asleep than awake and seemingly unfazed by his mother's imminent departure.

“I'll miss you,” Lucy told him.

“Miss you, too.”

“Be a good boy.”

Again the nod.

Lucy knew he'd be fine. She didn't have a doubt that Sadie would take good care of him or that he'd enjoy playing with kids his own age at the day care. She knew he did well with other children, that he made friends easily. But she still felt awful leaving him for such an extended amount of time.

It's only for today,
she reminded herself.

And fast on that thought came one that had been popping into her head all through the last evening and again this morning like some kind of consolation prize—that she was spending the time away from her son with Rand Colton.

She didn't want that to be something that could brighten her spirits. But for some reason it was. Some reason she didn't even want to think about, let alone analyze.

“Kiss,” she demanded of her son.

An instant, impish grin tugged at the corner of Max's mouth just before he planted a wet one on her cheek. Then he turned his face for her to do the same to him.

“I'm taking the Triceratops to day care with me,” he informed her in the meantime.

“Okay, but you know the deal. You have to share.”

“Then maybe I better take the Tyrannosaurus, too.”

Max said that as if it were serious business, which, to him, dinosaurs were.

“Have a nice day.” She ruffled his hair as she said goodbye to her aunt, then forced herself to walk out the door.

“You have a good day, too,” Sadie called after her.

The big black Lincoln Town Car outside had windows too darkly tinted to see through, yet knowing Rand was in that back seat made Lucy's pulse pick up more speed with each step that drew her nearer.

She wanted to believe it was nothing but first-day jitters. But she knew better. This had more to do with the man himself. And as much as she wished she could deny that fact, she couldn't.

There had been something about their brief meeting the day before that had caused him to stick in her mind vividly. Images of his tall, lean-but-muscular body, of his handsome face, even of his big hands, had kept her company all through the night.

Something about their brief meeting had caused her to wake up earlier than necessary this morning with a desire to dress just so for their coming day and evening together, inspiring her to wear her best suit, a pale blue cashmere that buttoned in a diagonal from her right shoulder to her left hip. It had been an extremely expensive birthday gift from her aunt that she saved for only the most important workdays.

And worst of all, there had been something about her brief meeting with Rand Colton that had caused her to look forward to today as if it were some
kind of special occasion she'd been waiting for her whole life.

He's your boss,
she reminded herself firmly. Not to mention that he was arrogant and irascible. And that she wasn't interested.

But still, as his driver got out and hurried around the car, a twitter of excitement danced across the surface of her skin at the imminence of seeing Rand Colton again. And no amount of telling herself that sense of excitement was completely uncalled-for made any difference.

When the driver opened the door for her, she got her first view of Rand. Or at least of his profile.

His dark, dark hair was impeccably combed, his face clean-shaven, and the scent of his aftershave wafted enticingly out to her.

He wasn't wearing a suit coat to cover his pristine white dress shirt, complete with French cuffs and cuff links of brushed gold. Against the stark whiteness of the shirt he wore a mauve silk tie Windsor-knotted at his throat. His suit pants were a rich wool that were not quite black and not quite gray but somewhere between the two. He looked better than any man had a right to that early in the morning.

But Lucy tried not to notice.

“Thank you,” she muttered to the driver as she slipped into the back seat.

Rand was writing something on a sheet of paper braced by a leather-bound notebook. The notebook was propped against a massive thigh that was raised
with the aid of his ankle perched atop the opposite knee.

He didn't look up as Lucy got in and the driver closed the door behind her. He didn't even say good morning.

Neither did she. Instead she said, “You're from California and you don't know how to drive?”

“Of course I know
how
to drive,” he answered, still not looking up from what he was doing. “But I like living in Georgetown and I
don't
like taking the Metro into the city.”

Oh no, no public transportation for His Nibs…

“Besides,” he went on, “we can get a surprising lot of work done on the way into the office if someone else is behind the wheel and fighting traffic. So yes, I own a car, but I also invest in a service that provides this car and driver.”

He continued to write at a breakneck pace and apparently didn't intend to waste any more time on small talk because he said, “You'll find paper and pen in the pocket behind the seat. Take this down.”

And so Lucy's day began.

From that moment on she barely had time to even notice Rand the man. He was like working with an excessively efficient machine. It took everything she had to keep up with him whether he was rattling off the perfect letter or having her jot down notes on his train of thought in preparation for writing a brief, or ordering her to fix his coffee, or to get a client on the phone or bring him a file.