The Playboy's Office Romance

“Who would have thought an ice queen like you would fall in love with a guy like me?”

“W-what?” Now Lara was angry. “There is nothing between you and me except the barest thread of tolerance. And just so you’re clear on this, love is the last emotion I’m ever likely to feel in connection with you.”

Darn the man. Bryce’s smile only deepened, making him look appealing, frustratingly handsome, infuriatingly confident. “Well said, Ms. Richmond. But since you’re obviously not indifferent to me—the true opposite of love—I’ll just go back to my office and figure out my next move.”

Bryce walked out, leaving her shaking, furious…and scared. Because somehow—she wasn’t sure how he’d done it—he’d just breached her defenses and opened up a possibility she couldn’t, wouldn’t, allow to be true.

Dear Reader,

March roars in like a lion this month with Harlequin American Romance’s four guaranteed-to-please reads.

We start with a bang by introducing you to a new in-line continuity series, THE CARRADIGNES: AMERICAN ROYALTY. The search for a royal heir leads to some scandalous surprises for three princesses, beginning with The Improperly Pregnant Princess by Jacqueline Diamond. CeCe Carradigne is set to become queen of a wealthy European country, until she winds up pregnant by her uncommonly handsome business rival. Talk about a shotgun wedding of royal proportions! Watch for more royals next month.

Karen Toller Whittenburgh’s series, BILLION-DOLLAR BRADDOCKS, continues this month with The Playboy’s Office Romance as middle brother Bryce Braddock meets his match in his feisty new employee. Also back this month is another installment of Charlotte Maclay’s popular series, MEN OF STATION SIX. Things are heating up between a sexy firefighter and a very pregnant single lady from his past—don’t miss the igniting passion in With Courage and Commitment. And rounding out the month is A Question of Love by Elizabeth Sinclair, a warm and wonderful reunion story.

Here’s hoping you enjoy all that Harlequin American Romance has to offer you—this month, and all the months to come!

Best,

Melissa Jeglinski

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin American Romance

The Playboy’s Office Romance

Karen Toller Whittenburg

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Paula and Genell,

brave dames and true sisters of my creative spirit.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Karen Toller Whittenburg is a native Oklahoman who fell in love with books the moment she learned to read and has been addicted to the written word ever since. She wrote stories as a child, but it wasn’t until she discovered romance fiction that she felt compelled to write, fascinated by the chance to explore the positive power of love in people’s lives. She grew up in Sand Springs (an historic town on the Arkansas River), attended Oklahoma State University and now lives in Tulsa with her husband, a professional photographer.

Books by Karen Toller Whittenburg

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

197—SUMMER CHARADE

249—MATCHED SET

294—PEPPERMINT KISSES

356—HAPPY MEDIUM

375—DAY DREAMER

400—A PERFECT PAIR

424—FOR THE FUN OF IT

475—BACHELOR FATHER

528—WEDDING OF HER DREAMS

552—THE PAUPER AND THE PRINCESS

572—NANNY ANGEL

621—MILLION-DOLLAR BRIDE *

630—THE FIFTY-CENT GROOM *

648—TWO-PENNY WEDDING *

698—PLEASE SAY “I DO”

708—THE SANTA SUIT

727—A BACHELOR FALLS

745—IF WISHES WERE…WEDDINGS

772—HOW TO CATCH A COWBOY

794—BABY BY MIDNIGHT?

822—LAST-MINUTE MARRIAGE

877—HIS SHOTGUN PROPOSAL

910—THE C.E.O.’S UNPLANNED PROPOSAL †

914—THE PLAYBOY’S OFFICE ROMANCE †

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Prologue

Archer Braddock settled into a chair on the darkened terrace and folded his hands across the crooked handle of his cherrywood cane. Missing his wife of fifty-six years even more today than usual, he looked out at the gardens and the floral arbor under which his oldest grandson, Adam, had exchanged vows with Katie, his bride, only a few hours before. “Ah, Janey,” Archer murmured. “It was a lovely wedding, wasn’t it?”

The only answer was the sound of laughter from inside the house where a lingering assortment of family and friends had gathered after the reception. It had been an unconventional wedding—small, intimate and spontaneous. Not the long-planned and elaborately formal ceremony that might have been expected for a family as old and traditional as the Braddocks of Rhode Island. Certainly nothing like the party of one week before, which had marked both Archer’s seventy-ninth birthday and the brief engagement of Katie Canton to Adam Braddock. It had been a hectic eight days. There had barely been enough time to phone invitations and to secure the services of Pastor Dan from the First Methodist Church in Sea Change before Saturday and the wedding was upon them. But from beginning to end, Katie and Adam had made this the wedding of their dreams…the simple, sincere experience they wanted to mark the start of their life together.

It would be an unconventional marriage, too, that much was already clear. Not half an hour ago, the happy couple had left Braddock Hall heading for someplace neither of them had ever been—Omaha. From there, well, they’d said they would be in touch. Katie was a free spirit and Adam had committed to following her and his heart for a full year, making no plans beyond the immediate future, learning to live in the moment. It was a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn for him, but one Archer was very happy to see his grandson make. If not for Katie, Adam might never have given his soul a chance to breathe.

“I wondered where you’d disappeared to, Archer.” Ilsa Fairchild strolled across the terrace to the table where he sat. “James said you’d most likely slipped up to bed when no one was looking, but I had a feeling you’d be out here.”

Archer still had the desire to be a gentleman when an attractive woman approached, but the stamina to get to his feet had long since deserted him, so he simply welcomed his guest with a smile. “I’m glad you found me,” he said. “I’ve just been having a little one-sided conversation with Jane, asking her if she enjoyed the wedding today.”

“I’m sure she had the best seat Heaven could afford.” Ilsa sank onto a chair and relaxed with a soft sigh. “It was a lovely wedding.”

“Just what I was saying to Janey. I believe she was about to remind me that you deserve the credit for putting this particular match together.”

“I simply introduced the possibility. Adam and Katie took it from there.”

“Nonetheless, Ilsa, you are a matchmaker of uncommon skill and discernment and therefore, must take your share of the credit. I’ll confess that in the beginning I had my doubts, but I’m a true believer now.”

“You were always a true believer, Archer. It’s one of the reasons I agreed to help you find a match for each of your three grandsons.”

“And the other reasons would be…?”

Her smile teased him in the twilight. “Well, it helps that you can afford my fees.”

“You’ve earned that and more already.” Archer tapped his fingertip lightly against the gnarled curl of his hand. “I rather hoped my son might have had something to do with your motivation to make matches for the Braddock men.”

“James is engaged,” Ilsa reminded him in a voice that declared her feelings on the subject weren’t open for discussion.

“For the moment,” Archer agreed, stating by his own tone that he wasn’t ready to give up the idea of a better match for his fifty-four-year-old son. “So tell me who you’ve picked out for Bryce.”

“That isn’t my choice to make, Archer,” she scolded gently. “All I do is pay attention to the opportunities he may have missed and introduce—”

“—the possibility of a match.” Archer finished the sentence for her with a gruff laugh. “I should have known you’re too much of a professional to reveal your matchmaking secrets. But you’re right, Ilsa, I don’t need to know. I trust your powers of perception and hope my middle grandson rises to the occasion. I’d love nothing more than to see him fall in love with the right woman for a change, and take some responsibility for doing something other than entertaining himself and his friends. He’s too much of a Prince Charming for his own good.”

“I believe Bryce may surprise you.”

Archer inhaled the soft, summer air and gathered his energy to get to his feet and return to the house. “I hope so,” he said. “Because I’m about to drop a bombshell into his cavalier lifestyle.”

“A bombshell?”

Archer moved his cane to gain leverage and pushed up out of the chair with difficulty. When he was on his feet and steady, Ilsa slipped her hand under his elbow, offering support and making him feel gentlemanly into the bargain. She was a fine woman, a woman of substance and uncommon grace. If he hadn’t been too old for romance and still deeply in love with his late wife, he’d have gone all out to win her for himself. But he wasn’t a fool. He knew there was some spark of attraction between Ilsa and his son, and he wasn’t yet too old to hope it might still catch flame. After all, Ilsa was a matchmaker of quite ingenious talent.

“A bombshell of atomic proportions,” he confirmed as they walked toward the doors leading into the house. “And I suppose this is as good a time as any to deliver it.”

Chapter One

Bryce Braddock didn’t like weddings, which was strange considering that he enjoyed almost everything about them. The atmosphere was nearly always festive, the flowers fresh, the candlelight romantic. There was usually soft music, close dancing, good food, expensive champagne and an abundance of attractive women caught up in the romance of the occasion, eager for an evening’s worth of flirtation. In short, all the elements of a good party were present and accounted for at weddings—and there was nothing Bryce loved more than a good party.

But there was something in the wedding ceremony, itself—something about the solemnity of the vows, the “I do’s” and the “to love, honor and cherish” parts—that zapped the pleasure right out of the occasion for him. He’d never given it much thought before today, never pondered if maybe it was his father’s inability to keep his wedding vows, despite half a dozen tries, that had soured his attitude toward the institution of marriage. But a few hours ago, as he’d stood beside his older brother, listening to the recital of vows that Adam declared with such confidence, Bryce decided his own aversion to weddings stemmed more from an innate fear that he wouldn’t be able to honor such a commitment. After spending his life in the shelter of his grandparents’ devoted and loving example, he didn’t want to take the chance he might fail at something so important.

He wasn’t like Adam, wasn’t the deliberate, my-way-or-the-highway decision maker his brother was, didn’t have the same self-confidence or the same internal compass that always pointed true north. But then, he had yet to meet a woman like Katie. Two months ago, Adam hadn’t had a clue he’d be exchanging happily ever after promises today on the south lawn of Braddock Hall. Who knew? Maybe a few months down the road, Bryce might just find himself under a flower arbor, saying an unexpected and sweet, “I do.”

Uh-huh. Sure thing. That was about as likely as the Board of Directors asking him to step into Adam’s shoes as CEO of Braddock Industries.

“Believe it or not, it made me very happy to see you display your usual, blatant disregard for tradition today.”

Bryce recognized the voice. He sometimes heard it in his nightmares. “I live to make you happy, Lara,” he said, watching the last little bit of wine swirl in his glass and resisting the urge to turn his head and look at her. It was one of life’s wicked little ironies that she, who never had a good thing to say to or about him, was probably the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen…and he’d seen plenty. “But if you came over here with the idea of buttering me up so I’ll surrender Katie’s bouquet, you’re out of luck. I caught it and I’m keeping it.”

“Buttering, in all its various contexts, will continue to be one of the many things you and I never share, Bryce.”

That was more like the Lara he knew and didn’t love. “Ah, ah, ah. Never say never.”

“Never,” she repeated with irrefutable confidence. “Since it is traditional for single women to try to catch the bouquet and for single men to vie for the garter, normally I would think you a moron to have grabbed the bouquet as you did.”

Definitely the Lara he knew, always quick to zing him with an insult loosely wrapped in a slightly lesser insult. “But today,” he said, beating her to the punch. “…you’re just glad that at least one Braddock is behaving completely in character.”

“Right,” she agreed. “I was beginning to think the whole family has gone completely crazy, but then you shoved poor Thea Berenson out of your way and snagged the bouquet, thus restoring some degree of normalcy to the day.”

Bryce hadn’t shoved anyone. He’d simply reached over their heads. But Lara was always eager to believe the worst of him and he, admittedly, was ever eager to support her cause. “That was Thea?” he asked, tossing back the last swallow of wine. “I thought that was you.” He turned then, and got sucker-punched by the sheer perfection of her Nordic beauty. Lara was tall, her forehead was even with his chin, making her five-eight or five-nine, before she added the height of heels. Her hair was silver-blond and probably long, although he’d never seen it any way but up. Her skin was as fair as a Southern belle’s, not a flaw or freckle to be found. Her eyes were the violet-blue of evening, when the sun is gone, but the night has not quite fallen. And at the moment, those beautiful eyes were staring at him with an expression much closer to disgust than interest.

“If I had been one of the bevy of women vying for the bouquet, and if I’d wanted to catch it, you wouldn’t have it now.”

“Your overwrought self-confidence is one of the things I like best about you, Lara.” He set the wineglass aside and sidled closer to her, lowering his voice. “But you can be truthful with me. I understand that at a certain age the biological clock starts ticking like a time bomb and women get pretty desperate to be married. And even though it’s only a superstition, if there’s any truth to the idea that the one who goes home with the bouquet is the next to be a bride…” Her eyes were turning stormy, but he continued in the spirit of generosity, and because he knew it would annoy her. “So for you, I’m willing to entertain any offer of sexual favors you care to put on the table. The bouquet could be yours if the price is right.”

Her caustic smile was both a reward and a punishment. “Always such a gentleman,” she said sarcastically.

Someday he’d like to be the recipient of a genuine smile from Lara Richmond. Apparently, though, today wasn’t going to be that day. “Wrong brother,” he corrected. “I believe the one you wanted just got married.”

She stiffened up like a starched shirt. “I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, relax, Queenie. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“If I had a secret, which I don’t, you’d be the last person I’d trust to keep it. You can be sure of that.”

“Okay, if you say so, but there’s no shame in admitting you’re in love with Adam. Half the women at the wedding today weren’t crying because they were happy.”

“Love?” She said it as if the word tasted nasty in her mouth. “For your information, your brother and I are friends. I’m sure that concept is not in your realm of experience, but you really should try it sometime.”

“Being friends with a woman? Now why would I want to ruin a promising romance with something as platonic as friendship?”

Her face flushed with rancor—he always had this effect on her, even when he wasn’t trying. “You’re right, Bryce. It’s impossible for you to understand how I might admire Adam for his intelligence and business acumen without putting your own decadent spin on our friendship. You certainly shouldn’t try to emulate anything you’re incapable of understanding.”

“A lot of big words in that statement,” Bryce pointed out cheerfully. “Are you trying to impress me with your command of the language?”

“I wouldn’t waste my time. In fact, I don’t know why I thought we might be able to exchange a few pleasantries on this festive occasion. My mistake.”

He was sorry he’d razed her now and as she started to turn, he snagged two glasses of wine from a passing waiter. “You’re right,” he conceded. “You and I should bury the hatchet on this singular occasion.” He offered her one of the glasses and raised the other, making it difficult for her to simply walk away. “Let’s toast to my brother and his bride. May they be as happy together as you and I will be apart.”

She could hardly refuse to drink to that, he thought.

She took the glass. “Hear, hear” she said and took a swallow of the wine.

She had great lips, full but not too wide, shiny now with the soft color of lipstick and the glaze of cabernet. There were moments when Bryce wished she didn’t hate him so forcefully. “Where’s the kid?” he asked, because he didn’t want her to leave him just yet and because he was curious to know how Ice Queen Lara was managing with her newly acquired nephew.

“Calvin?” Her tone was cautious, as if she suspected a verbal trap.

“Is that his name?”

“Yes.” Still hesitant, her gaze stayed on his, watching for the first sign of a joke at her expense. “How do you know about Cal?”

Bryce shrugged. “Adam told me.”

She sighed, but he couldn’t decide if it was because Adam had talked to him or because she didn’t know how much of the situation he actually knew. “He’s with a sitter,” she said. “Neither one of us would have enjoyed the wedding if I’d brought him along.”

“I didn’t think you enjoyed it very much without him.”

The truth of that was in the glance she flickered to his face and then quickly away. “I’m a little…unsettled…by the sudden turn of events, of course. Adam didn’t give much notice and things at the office have been chaotic this week, to say the least.”

“You should have been here. Monica nearly drove us all insane with her ideas for the wedding. Even Peter got rattled and usually, he’s as calm as the eye of a hurricane.”

Lara turned the glass between her long, delicate fingers. “Who’s Monica?”

It wasn’t difficult to locate the petite brunette, clinging to her trophy fiancé like poison ivy, and Bryce indicated her with a glance. “My future stepmother,” he said, taking another sip of wine. “Number six. Or seven. It’s hard to keep track.”

Lara’s gaze followed his. “For some reason, I thought your father was engaged to that lovely woman I saw sitting beside your grandfather during the wedding.”

“Ilsa Fairchild?” Bryce shook his head, feeling gloomier the further this topic went. Just yesterday, there had been an article in The Inquirer, citing inside sources that love was in the air at Braddock Hall and Cupid’s arrow had struck even the eldest Mr. Braddock. Archer had laughed heartily and proclaimed it nonsense, as all the tabloid stories on the tawdry loves and scandals of the rich and famous basically were, but he hadn’t denied it. And something was going on between Mrs. Fairchild and his grandfather. Even Peter thought so. But Bryce wasn’t going to discuss that with Lara or anyone else. “She’s a family friend,” he said, feeding her the line Archer had fed him. “I only wish my dad was smart enough to fall for someone that classy. It would make for quite a change.”

Lara sipped her wine, watching Monica across the span of the room. “She doesn’t look very happy.”

Bryce observed the pout on the brunette’s pretty face. “She always looks that way.” But it did seem that at the moment at least, James was standing firm and not giving in as easily as he usually did. There could be trouble in paradise. And about time, too, in Bryce’s humble opinion. Not that he wanted his dad to be unhappy. But anyone, probably everyone, could tell that James and Monica were not an ideal match. On the other hand, who was? Other than his grandparents and now, Adam and Katie.

“She’s very pretty.” Lara observed. “And young.”

“All my stepmothers are. It’s a requirement.” Hearing the bitter note in his voice, Bryce decided a change of subject matter was overdue. He didn’t want Lara to start thinking he liked having a civil conversation with her. Something like that could ruin her ideas about him. “So,” he said, bringing his voice back to a droll indifference, “are you polishing up your nameplate? Thinking about how you’ll redecorate Adam’s office?”

“What?” She was clearly startled by the question, or at least by the fact that he’d said aloud what had to be hovering in the back of her mind.

“Adam’s resignation as CEO is already a week old. Don’t tell me you haven’t already been in touch with Natalie Ossman. Or has some other trendy new interior designer taken Providence by storm?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on, Lara, we both know you’re primed, ready and eager to fill Adam’s shoes at Braddock Industries.”

Chips of ice couldn’t have been cooler than the gaze she narrowed on him. “The board will not ask me to take on the position of CEO, although they should. No one is better qualified or loves this company more than I.”

Certainly not you, was the crisp subtext. Lara might not like him, but she never disappointed him with false flattery. “I agree with you,” he said, switching tone and trying sincerity for a change. “And for what it’s worth, I think you’ve earned the job.”

She blinked. “You do?”

“You betcha.” Bryce actually thought there was a possibility the board might name her Chief Operating Officer, which would be a coup for both her and the company in his opinion. Not that anyone was likely to ask his opinion. “Much better you than me.”

“I hope you don’t expect me to argue that point.”

Oddly, he had. For no reason other than she never agreed with him on anything, whether he was right or wrong. It rankled, somehow, that for the five or more years she’d worked as Adam’s assistant at Braddock Industries, Bryce had yet to convince her he was not a moron simply because his life philosophy didn’t involve a three-piece suit and a leather briefcase. She persisted in believing he had about as much depth as a wading pool. Not that he’d ever expended much effort to disabuse her of the idea. “Believe it or not, Lara, arguing isn’t the only way to carry on a conversation with me.”

“You can’t believe the board would seriously consider you,” she said with unflattering conviction. “You’ve never worked a day in your life. You wouldn’t take the job even if they were—” She stopped herself, but he easily filled in the blank with a silent “stupid enough to give it to you,” although she finished with a less offensive, “—inclined to give it to you, anyway.”

“You probably shouldn’t count on the board offering the position to you, either.”