One Night with the Boss (16 page)

Read One Night with the Boss Online

Authors: Teresa Southwick

BOOK: One Night with the Boss
11.54Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“Really?” His tone dripped with the infamous O’Keefe confidence. “This is me.”

So he’d used his computer skills to track her down. Did that mean he cared just a little?

She expected a cocky grin and was surprised when there wasn’t one. “Are you taking a break from winter? Or, since technically I still had one more week to work, did you come to fire me in person?”

“Neither.”

“Then I don’t understand.”

“Do you mind if I sit?”

“I don’t own the beach. Suit yourself.” Where did that attitude come from? She might look relaxed on the outside, but inside she was a quivering bundle of nerves and pounding heart.

Without comment he arranged his towel next to hers. She faced the ocean and he stretched out beside her with his back to the waves. She sat up and their thighs brushed, creating a man-made heat that had nothing to do with the sun. He was close enough to kiss her. If he wanted.

“Well?” she said. “I didn’t expect you to go to so much trouble.”

“Funny thing about expectations.” He rested a forearm on his raised knee. “I never expected you to disappear without a word.”

“There was nothing left to say.” The humiliation of that night was still fresh. After she’d declared her years-long love for him, he hadn’t responded. If there was a God in heaven, she would never go through an experience like that ever again.

“You’re wrong about that. I never had my say. You dumped all your feelings on me, then took off before I had a chance to process anything.”

“My bad. It never occurred to me that my words were encrypted.” Funny thing about embarrassment. It tended to make her resentful and defensive—and just a tad sarcastic. “I forgot the legendary Brady brain needed to organize and filter data through microchips and circuit boards. That’s your personal default operating system.”

“I don’t do knee-jerk reactions.”

“That’s just an excuse. We’ve known each other for years. It seems a sufficient amount of time to know how you feel. At least for me.”

“Your life experience lets you be more open to that sort of thing. Mine was different.” He looked down for a moment. “You like to joke that when I found computers, I found a friend, the subtext being that I don’t have a heart. Because I do. Computers are safer than people. They’re less messy and there’s always a way to fix a broken one. I tend to compartmentalize everything. Even more after losing my father and best friend. It hurt a lot, so I put the people in my life into manageable subsets. I love my family and there’s nothing I can do to change that. Even if I could I wouldn’t.”

Olivia couldn’t see his eyes, but the rest of his body spoke loud and clear about his inner conflict. The way his mouth pulled tight. The muscle jerking in his jaw. His fingers clenching into a fist. All of it told her he was voluntarily opening up, revealing the depth of his pain. She was afraid to say anything and stop him. Break the spell. So she watched and waited and held her breath.

“I consciously made the choice not to let anyone else get close.”

“Including me.” It had to be said and wasn’t a question.

“Especially you.” He drew in a shuddering breath. “I put you in the business category. Work only. That made you off-limits personally.”

“I see.”

“No, you don’t.” He must have heard the hurt in her voice, because there was frustration in his. “When I interviewed you for my executive assistant, you were all grown up and pretty as a picture. You’re smart and funny and weren’t afraid to tell me when I was full of it. You kept me grounded and instinctively I knew you could be more if I wasn’t careful.”

“So you were careful and kept me in my subset.”

“I had to. Otherwise there’d have been more to lose and I’d already lost enough. But day after day you were there—sweet, sassy, telling it like it is. I just couldn’t keep you out no matter how hard I tried.”

“Why?” She really wanted to know.

“You brought me out of the shadows. And keeping it real, I have to say the light wasn’t comfortable at first—”

“You’re a vampire?”

That got a small smile. “In a way. Hard knocks sucked the will to try right out of me. My goal was to keep everything status quo. You came to work every day and I could see you. As long as it stayed business, nothing could change. I couldn’t lose.”

“So what happened?”

“In a word?” He slid his sunglasses to the top of his head and met her gaze. “Leonard.”

“But he wasn’t real,” she protested.

“I didn’t know that at first. The idea of you leaving me was unacceptable and despite what you think, it wasn’t about replacing you. On some level that I tried very hard not to acknowledge, I knew you were irreplaceable. Since I’m groveling here, I might as well go for broke.” He blew out a breath. “I was jealous.”

“Really?”

“Insane with it.”

Happiness filled her to overflowing. This had seemed like the wrong time and place for a bare-your-soul talk. It was so very public. They were on a beach where children dug in the sand and played tag with the surf. But there were breezes and an endless blue sky overhead. It was the absolutely perfect place to talk about the past, present, future.

She was pretty sure she knew where he was headed with this, but it was as important for him to get the words out as it was for her to hear them. Computers and technology were all well and good in their place but would never be a substitute for human interaction, which he was pretty rusty at. That wasn’t going to fly now. No more hiding in the shadows for him.

“Go on. I’m listening,” she said.

He reached over and loosely took her fingers in his. “I need you, Liv. I didn’t know how much until I thought I’d lost you to another guy. And I realized something else.”

“Oh?”

“Standing on the sidelines isn’t living. I’d rather have one day with you than a lifetime alone.”

“Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?”

“Something like that. People leave us for reasons we can’t do anything about. I realized when you left me that I’m being stupid not to try.”

“We both know you’re not stupid,” she said.

“I hope you still feel that way, because I’m putting it all on the line here.” He took her hand more securely and met her gaze. “You can leave me, but I’ll just track you down. And we both know I can do it.”

“Should I be afraid?” she teased.

“When I say track, I don’t mean in a creepy, stalker kind of way.”

“Then what kind of way are you talking?” No getting off the hook. She’d waited too long to hear him say this.

“I’m talking love. As in I love you. I want to marry you and have a family with you.” He brushed his thumb over her knuckles. “But make no mistake. I will not be a pretend boyfriend. I’m talking husband. And I am the boss.”

“At work,” she agreed. “At home, that’s a different story. How about a fifty-fifty partnership?”

“Okay, I’m not very good at this kind of stuff so I need it spelled out. Did you just say what I think you did?”

With her index finger she smoothed out the sand and drew a heart. Inside it she wrote
I love you.

“In case that’s not spelled out clearly enough for you, I’ll say it. I love you, Brady O’Keefe. I fell for you long before you were my boss and this feels like a dream come true.”

“So you’ll marry me?”

“Nothing would make me happier.” She smiled. “Now I’d appreciate it if you’d kiss me.”

“Pretty bossy, aren’t you?” He moved closer and his mouth was a whisper from hers when he said, “That works for me.”

And then, right there on a public beach in front of everyone, Brady O’Keefe kissed her for a very, very long time.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from CELEBRATION'S BABY by Nancy Robards Thompson.

We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Special Edition story.

You know that romance is for life.
Harlequin Special Edition
stories show that every chapter in a relationship has its challenges and delights and that love can be renewed with each turn of the page.

Enjoy six new stories from Harlequin Special Edition every month!
Visit
Harlequin.com
to find your next great read.

Connect with us on
Harlequin.com
for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!

Other ways to keep in touch:

Harlequin.com/newsletters
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
HarlequinBlog.com

Chapter One

B
eing in charge had its perks. Today, Bia Anderson fully intended to cash in. After all, there was chocolate involved.

She lifted her chin a little higher as she walked up the petunia-lined path to the old bungalow located at the end of Main Street in downtown Celebration—the new home of Maya’s Chocolates.

Nicole Harrison, a staff writer for the
Dallas Journal of Business and Development,
where Bia was the editor in chief, hadn’t hidden her disappointment that morning. Bia had assigned her to the catch-a-greased-pig contest at the grand opening of the Piggly Wiggly over in Kenansville rather than the interview for the Maya’s Chocolates business profile.

It wasn’t the first time she and Nicole had butted heads, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. But that came with the territory. In the two months since Bia had taken the reins as editor of the paper, making tough calls that sometimes disappointed the staff hadn’t gotten easier, but she just had to suck it up and do what she thought was best.

So what if they all thought she was hard as nails, lacking empathy and compassion?

What would they think when they found out she was going to be a mother? The wall immediately went up, and she told herself she didn’t care what they’d say or do or how they’d smirk when they learned she was pregnant by
People
’s reigning “Sexiest Man Alive,” Hugh Newman. The thought knocked the air out of her. And not in a good way; it was more like a sucker punch to the gut. Reflexively, her hand went to her belly.

She’d done the pregnancy test last night, finally pulling her head out of the sand after being two months late. She still hadn’t quite wrapped her mind around the reality of it—although the unexpected pregnancy did explain why she’d been craving chocolate to the point of insanity.

At first, she’d blamed the cravings on the stress of the Hugh Newman debacle: a five-day lapse of judgment that had ended abruptly when the paparazzi started inquiring into the identity of the woman with the auburn hair in the blue sundress, with whom Newman had been seen
canoodling
in Celebration, Texas.

Canoodling?
Did anyone even use that word anymore?

He’d been in town doing location research—soaking up local color for his next movie. Also, he had accepted an invitation to emcee the annual Doctor’s Charity Ball, which benefited the new pediatric surgical wing at Celebration Memorial Hospital. Bia had gotten an up-close-and-personal tutorial of why Hugh had been named Mr. Sexy when she’d had lunch with him to interview him for the paper (and you can bet Nicole Harrison hadn’t been happy that Bia had claimed that assignment). Five minutes into the interview, Hugh Newman had charmed the pants off her. Okay, so maybe it had been more like an hour. God, she wasn’t
that
easy.

Bia stepped onto the porch and tried the door. It was locked. So she knocked and waited for Maya to let her in.

Truth be told, Bia wasn’t easy at all.

At twenty-eight years old, she’d only had two lovers. Her first had been Duane, as part of a six-year relationship that had ended in a broken engagement; the other was Hugh, an impetuous mistake she’d known wouldn’t last. And, of course, it hadn’t.

She just hadn’t expected to walk away with such a personal memento of their time together.

Dammit, she’d simply wanted one taste of sexy.
One taste
—and she had been prepared to walk away. But one night became five and then the media had gotten wind of the affair and suddenly the entire world was dying to know the identity of the woman with the auburn hair in the blue sundress. Overnight, Bia had gone from relative obscurity to the top of
XYZ Celebrity News
’s most-stalked list.

She did a hasty scan of the area looking for skulking media-types. It was a beautiful day. Shoppers were wandering in and out of places like On a Roll Bakery, Three Sisters dress shop, Dolce Vita Gourmet Grocery and Barbara’s Beauty Salon. But the area was all clear of lurking
XYZ
minions. Oh, they were gone now, thank God. The paparazzi had lost interest when Hugh’s camp had explained that the redhead in the blue sundress was simply his tour guide.

Nothing to see here, folks. Just a tour guide.

Liar
,
liar
,
sexy pants on fire.

At least they hadn’t called her an escort.

What had really burned was when Hugh’s people had offered to pay her to keep her mouth shut. She didn’t want his money. But she did want her privacy back. That’s the only reason she’d agreed to play along with the tour guide charade. Still, she told them to pass along the message that Hugh could keep his money and the insult it implied.

Within hours of explaining Bia away, Hugh and his longtime on-again, off-again starlet girlfriend, Kristin Capistrano, announced that they were, indeed, on again.
How lovely for them.
Then the tabloids developed instant amnesia about the “tour guide” and were all ablaze with the news that they had a “liftoff” and that “Hugh-stin” certainly did not have a problem. The pair proclaimed they were deeply in love and—surprise surprise—that Kristin would be costarring with Hugh in the movie that was filming in Celebration, Texas. The one for which he’d been soaking up the local color when he’d met Bia.

Bia’s mouth went dry as she thought of the scandal it would cause if anyone found out the sexiest man alive was her baby daddy.

She clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms. As far as she was concerned, Hugh Newman was dead to her. But the blue line on the pregnancy test had resurrected him.

Now she wasn’t sure what to do... Except that, ready or not, she was going to have a baby—and she was going to keep it.

There was no question about that. Bia was adopted, and she’d often wondered why her birth mother had chosen to give her up rather than trying to make it work. Her mother and father—the ones who had adopted her—had been good people. At least her father had been. She hadn’t really known her adoptive mother. She’d passed away when Bia was five, leaving her adoptive father to raise her.

The strong, silent type, he’d never been much of a talker. He’d bristled the handful of times she’d asked about her birth mother. So she hadn’t pressed it.

Her dad had passed away last year, and now more than ever she wished she knew more about her roots. Maybe it was time to start digging. She’d need to know...for her child’s sake. Health history and all that.

Bia rapped on the door again, shifting her weight from one foot to another. Across the street, a friend of her father’s called to her and waved. She waved back.

Thank God her father wasn’t alive to see what a mess she’d made of things. She sighed.

It had just
happened.
When she’d sat down to interview Hugh, she’d been the picture of professionalism. At first she’d been immune to his notorious charms. Then he’d started putting the moves on her. Heavy-duty flirting. With her.

Hugh Newman had been flirting with
her.

That was all it had taken for her resolve to melt like pure cane sugar in hot-brewed tea.

They’d used protection. Every single time.

That’s the part she couldn’t quite comprehend. How this could have happened when she’d been so careful?

Thinking about it made her feel nauseated.

She gave herself a mental shake.

She’d made her choices. Now she’d have to live with the consequences. Still, if she could just have one do-over in life, she’d turn back the clock two months and stay the heck away from Mr. Sexy. She’d let Nicole be Hugh Newman’s
tour guide.

She knocked on the door yet again, this time a little harder. Where the heck was Maya?

Above Bia’s head hung a weathered, hand-painted wooden sign that boasted, Maya’s Chocolates—Happily Ever After Starts Here. It swayed and squeaked on the lazy breeze of the warm May afternoon. The words, written in gray-blue calligraphy on a whitewashed background, were underlined by a fancy, scrolling arrow that pointed toward the door.

Happily Ever After. Right here, huh?

Nice thought.

She tried the door again, this time giving it a firmer tug and then a push, but it was locked tight as a tick. She shaded her eyes and peered in the glass front door. No one was in the showroom. All the fixtures seemed to be in place, but they looked empty.

Hmm, that was curious.

The store’s grand opening was scheduled for next week. Bia thought that a good bit of the merchandise would be in place by now.

Had Maya forgotten their appointment? If they didn’t let her in to start the interview soon, Bia couldn’t promise that anyone was going to have a happily ever after. Bia glanced at her cell phone to check the time. Okay, so she was a couple of minutes early, but it was warm outside. She was feeling a little dizzy and beads of perspiration were forming underneath her silk blouse and starting to run down the crevice of her back.

Certain foods and smells—like coffee and the noxious traffic fumes wafting up from Main Street—made her feel ill. That, along with the chocolate cravings and, of course, the missed periods, were what had finally sent her to Dallas to purchase the in-home test. She couldn’t purchase it in the local drugstore. Word would get around faster than if it had been aired on
XYZ.

She blinked away the thought and refocused on the mental list of interview questions she would ask Maya...if she ever answered the door.

Bia was just about to dial Maya’s phone number when, through the panes of glass on the front door, she saw the woman hurrying toward her in a flurry of long red spiral curls and flouncing green scarf and skirt. She was wiping her hands on a dish towel, which she flung over her shoulder as she opened the door with a breathless greeting.


Bonjour!
You’re here!” Maya’s lyrical accented voice rang out and mingled with the sounds of chirping birds and traffic. “I hope you have not been waiting long. I was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on a surprise just for you. Come in! Come in,
cher!
Please, come in.”

A surprise? For me?

“I hope it’s chocolate,” Bia said.

“But of course it is.” Maya smiled as she held open the door for Bia and motioned her inside. A cool gust of air that smelled like rich dark chocolate greeted her and took the edge off her queasiness. Bia breathed in deeply.

“Well, then, in that case, you’re forgiven.” Bia grinned. “I have been dreaming of your chocolate since the Doctor’s Ball. It was the first time I’d tasted it. In fact, for the past several weeks, I’ve been craving chocolate like crazy, but the over-the-counter stuff just isn’t doing it for me. I think you’ve spoiled me for all other sweets. I just learned that Baldoon’s Pub offers your Irish cream truffles on their dessert menu.”

“Indeed they do,” Maya said over her shoulder as Bia followed her into the house. “I like to hear that I’ve spoiled you for other chocolate. You might say that’s the theme of my business plan.”

The front room was set up as a shop with a refrigerated glass case in the center of the space. Like the shelving fixtures, the case was empty, Bia noted with chagrin. But it was surrounded by lovely silver-veined marble counters that housed a cash register and supplies to wrap purchases. Even if there was a decided dearth of chocolate, the place looked fresh and clean and light with its white paint, whitewashed wooden floors and yards of silver tulle draped elegantly across the ceiling. The look created an ethereal cloudlike effect.

Again, Bia breathed in the delicious aroma of chocolate, and her stomach growled. Since the cases and shelves were empty, she had to wonder if she was imagining the scent. Or had Maya piped it in for effect?

“Where’s the chocolate?” Bia finally asked. “Don’t you make all your goods on the premises? If so, how are you going to fill the cases and shelves before the grand opening?”

Maya glanced around the room. “I suppose it does look rather empty in here, doesn’t it?” She sighed and went behind the wrap stand. “Alas, the increased demand for chocolate has forced me to be less hands-on with the manufacturing process. I still make some special made-to-order candy—like this batch I made especially for you this morning.”

She presented a three-tiered glass-and-silver dessert plate brimming with confections in various shapes and colors. Bia’s mouth watered at the sight.

“I thought I smelled chocolate in the air. But then I worried that I’d simply imagined it.”

Maya laughed. “It is a lovely fragrance, isn’t it? Some say the mere smell of chocolate causes a woman’s body to release hormones that simulate the feeling of falling in love.”

“Ha! All of the feelings and none of the heartache,” Bia said. “Sounds like the perfect relationship. I just wish chocolate didn’t love me back so much. It tends to stay with me. You know, right here.” She patted her left hip.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, you are reed-thin. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Gosh, makes chocolates, gives compliments...I think you and I could be good friends.”

Maya’s eyes shone. “I certainly hope so.”

“You will have chocolate for the grand opening, won’t you?” Bia asked.

Maya nodded. “Of course. I was fortunate enough to find a stateside manufacturer who was able to duplicate my family recipe in bulk, the one my grandmother used to start the business three generations ago. The candy for the shelves and case will be delivered the day before we open. That way it will be as fresh as can be. We’ll have to work extra hard to get everything in place, but it will be worth it.”

Maya gestured toward the plate. “But please, don’t let me detain you. Help yourself.”

Reverently, Bia approached the manna. She paused to give the illusion of self-control, so that it didn’t look as if she was about to bury her face in all that deliciousness. But then she found herself genuinely appreciating the sheer artistry of Maya’s offering.

Yes, this definitely could be the start of a beautiful friendship.

Other books

Finding Jaime by Dawn, P.
Mallawindy by Joy Dettman
Angels Watching Over Me by Lurlene McDaniel
Candice Hern by In the Thrill of the Night
The Restoration Artist by Lewis Desoto
The Captain's Pearl by Jo Ann Ferguson
Last Writes by Lowe, Sheila
Bones in the Barrow by Josephine Bell