The Playboy's Office Romance

Her expression changed again, became defensive. “I never count on anything,” she said sharply. “Life is safer that way.”

“Also boring.”

“Well, we can’t all live the fascinating life you do, can we, Bryce? Someone has to be responsible for running the family business.”

This was getting personal and he didn’t like it. Bad enough he’d grown up in the awesome shadow that Adam cast, he didn’t need Adam’s assistant—beautiful as she was—taking over that duty now that Adam wasn’t here to do it. “Yes, Lara, someone does have to be responsible and I’m very happy it doesn’t have to be me.”

“That makes two of us.”

She turned to go, the wine swirling to the brim of her glass in her agitation and haste, but her exit was blocked by the halting approach of Archer Braddock and Ilsa Fairchild, arm in arm, smiling as if they’d been out for a lover’s stroll in the moonlight. “Lara,” Archer said, smiling. “You look lovely, my dear. I know you’re going to miss Adam as much as the rest of us.”

“Probably more.”

Archer’s laughter was gruff and held a note of weariness in it.

“I suspect that is certainly true. You’ve met Mrs. Fairchild?” He indicated Ilsa beside him, then seemed to remember he’d introduced them earlier in the day. “Oh, of course you have.”

“Yes,” Lara’s smile was real this time and reached Bryce by default. “It was a lovely wedding, wasn’t it?”

“Lovely and unusual,” Ilsa agreed, “Very much like Katie, don’t you think?”

“Possibly. I don’t know her well at all.”

Bryce realized then that part of Lara’s edginess stemmed not from her dislike of him, but from uncertainty. She’d thought all along that she knew Adam so well—better maybe than anyone—and suddenly, he’d met Katie then become someone she didn’t know at all. Now he was gone and her position at the company was precarious. Bryce couldn’t believe she would lose her job—the woman was a huge asset. He had no doubt she could run the company without a Braddock anywhere around to advise her. She loved the business. It was her passion. He’d observed her at the office enough to recognize passion when he saw it. But it was a huge operation and a family one, besides. And if James or Peter were tapped for the position, it was entirely possible Lara would be phased out in favor of someone who didn’t worship quite so loyally at Adam’s shrine. That, in Bryce’s opinion, would be a waste of a great resource, not that anyone cared what his opinion might be.

“Bryce,” Archer said to him, the note of weariness dropping away before a chairman of the board tone of sobriety. “Congratulations are in order for you today, too.”

Bryce grinned, suspecting his grandfather was going to tease him about breaking time-honored tradition and snagging the bride’s bouquet for himself. “News of my own impending marriage is greatly exaggerated, Grandfather,” he said. “Bouquet or no bouquet, it’s merely a superstition.”

Archer smiled and set a firm, if slightly shaky, hand on Bryce’s shoulder. “But news of your appointment as the new CEO of Braddock Industries isn’t. The board met yesterday and you were elected by a unanimous vote. Congratulations.”

Bryce felt his throat close as the noise of conversation in the room faded to a dull, background buzz. Chief Executive Officer? Him? He swallowed, wished he had something else to drink, something strong and caffeinated and not even slightly intoxicating, although he was far from drunk now. “CEO?” he repeated stupidly, but his grandfather was moving on, leaning more heavily on his cane than normal, his shoulders showing the slight droop of a long, exhausting, exciting week.

And suddenly, Bryce recognized the energetic zing coursing through his veins. Excitement. He was the new CEO. He’d been elected by the board. Unanimously. This was Adam’s doing. Maybe Archer, too, had done some behind the scenes politicking. Even James could have twisted an arm or two. Bryce knew he couldn’t claim to deserve this opportunity, hadn’t ever allowed himself to believe he wanted it. But now that it was his, he took it as the gift Adam had surely meant it to be. “Wow,” he said, turning with a smile and coming face-to-face with the outrage and anger in a pair of beautiful violet-blue eyes.

“Congratulations,” Lara said tightly. “My resignation will be on your desk Monday morning.” Then she was gone…not even noticing she’d managed to wipe the smile right off of his face.

Chapter Two

“Look, Mommy!”

The high, reedy voice broke through Lara’s fierce attempt at concentration for the umpteenth time. She sighed, laid her thin, platinum pen sideways across the resignation which she couldn’t seem to stop editing and walked around the big mahogany desk. Grasping the arms of the black leather chair, she stopped it in midspin and leaned in until she was eye level with her nephew. “Calvin?” she said as patiently as a weekend’s worth of worry and fretting and not enough sleep would allow. “I’m Aunt Lara. Remember? We talked about this yesterday.” And the day before that and the day before that. Several times a day, in fact, every single day of the twelve and a half days since she’d rescued the four-year-old from his father, her no-account brother, Derrick. “I’m not your mommy.”

Calvin squinched his big brown eyes into a tight frown, which instantly resolved into a heart-squeezing, gap-toothed grin. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “I ‘member.”

Lara smiled back because it was impossible not to and because she wanted the little guy to feel good about himself. Lord knew, his situation wasn’t anything to smile about and the child-development books she’d been reading by the pound all spent endless pages on the importance of self-esteem. “Did you need something, Cal?” she asked, prodding him to recall why he’d interrupted her this time.

“Yeah. This is a cool chair.” He pried her hands easily from the leather and used them to push off, spinning in a continuous circle of big black chair and small, strawberry-blond boy.

Adam’s chair, Adam’s desk, Adam’s whole office was cool. And Lara mourned with a pitiful and pious regret that after today, she’d have no reason to be in it. She really didn’t have much of an excuse to be in here now, other than to put her letter of resignation on the desk. But her nephew had discovered the miracle of a chair that spins, and she had discovered a mistake on a last read-through. No way could she end this letter wishing Bryce Braddock success. It was dishonest, untrue and smacked of insincerity. She could do better, so she’d lingered to mull over a more perfect wording that would convey, both, her genuine regret at leaving and her complete lack of confidence in the new CEO…without coming right out and saying so. The letter needed to be succinct, professional and elegant in what it said, and even more so in what it didn’t.

Not that her archenemy would recognize nuance if it slapped him square in the middle of his too-handsome face. How the Board of Directors could put such an irresponsible, egotistical slacker in charge was beyond her comprehension. She’d expected James to step in when Adam stepped out, or possibly Peter, whose inexperience in the overall operations at Braddock Industries was somewhat mitigated by his fierce pride in the company his forefathers had built. But she’d never once thought Bryce, who spent every day like the proverbial grasshopper, could make the final cut. He was a thousand times worse than her worst case scenario—and since Adam’s stunning desertion, she’d come up with several atom-bomb possibilities. None of them even close to the disaster that had actually happened.

In a just universe, Bryce Braddock wouldn’t even be allowed in this office after-hours as a janitor. He might be twice as charming as either of his brothers and he was, without a doubt, the most classically handsome of the three, but he had less than half their substance and smarts. He had no business—none!—sitting in Adam’s chair and trying his inept hand at running a company as fine and successful as Braddock Industries. It was ludicrous, awful and, unfortunately, true.

And she should quit messing with the wording of her resignation, drop it on the desk, gather the personal items still in her office and get out of the building before anyone else arrived. But even as she came to that reluctant conclusion, she heard the rattle of keys in the office beyond and a moment after that, Nell Russell, Adam’s personal secretary, peeked in from the doorway. “Well, good morning. You’re here even earlier than usual.”

“Hi!” Calvin, his cowlick aiming for the sky, gamboled upright in the still-spinning chair. “Who are you?”

“I’m Mrs. Russell. Who are you?”

“Calvin.” Just that quickly, the boy lost interest in the new arrival, dropped back in the chair and used the rubber sole of his tennis shoe against the desk as leverage to push off again. Lara hoped it left a smudge.

Nell’s eyebrows went up as her glance turned to Lara. “I take it the nanny didn’t last through the weekend.”

“I gave her the day off. I’m taking Calvin in to the education center for testing this morning, although he seems to be a perfectly normal four-year-old. According to the books.”

Nell eyed the whirling chair. “According to the books, he ought to be as dizzy as a bug in a bottle.”

Lara watched the spinning dervish for a moment, hoping her nephew wasn’t doing irreparable damage to his nervous system. “I’m not sure he’s that normal. He never seems to get dizzy. Or tired. Or sleepy.”

“Cranky?”

“Oh, yes. That he’s got down pat.”

“I meant you.” Nell moved closer to the desk, hands on her hips as she joined Lara in staring, almost mesmerized, at the whirling chair. “Guess you’ve heard the news,” she said after a minute. “About our new chief exec.”

That reminder broke the spell. Lara picked up her letter of resignation and offered it for Nell’s perusal.

Nell read it in silence, then placidly ripped it in two. “Oh, no, you don’t,” she said. “You are not giving up without a fight. Not while I’m here to talk some sense into you.”

“Oh, come on, Nell, this is a sinking ship. You know that as well as I do.”

“I don’t know that and even if it were true, you don’t want to be the first rat to jump ship.”

“No, that honor belongs to Adam.” Lara rubbed her temple, tired already, even before eight o’clock. “I’m not working for Bryce. I can’t…even if he could resist the delicious pleasure of firing me, which we both know he won’t.”

“He’s not as dumb as you like to believe he is,” Nell insisted. “And he’s certainly smart enough to know he can’t fire you.”

“He’s even dumber than I believe he is, and he will fire me at the first opportunity. Except that I’m not going to let him. Period. End of story.”

“Well, you’re not quitting, so get that idea out of your head right now.” Nell tore the paper in half again for emphasis. “This place would fall apart without you and Bryce is certainly smart enough to know that. Besides, Adam will be back. I give him a week of honeymooning, two at most, before he’ll be breaking his neck to get back here.”

Lara recalled all too easily the expression of wonder on Adam’s face when he’d looked at his bride on Saturday, and she didn’t think he was coming back. Not anytime soon. Certainly not in time to save her job. “You were at the wedding, Nell. You saw him. He’s not coming back.”

The truth of that was in Nell’s crisply assessing hazel eyes, but she wouldn’t admit it. “All the more reason for you to stay, then,” she said, quickly shifting tactics. “Bryce has never bothered with the business much. He’s going to need your knowledge of the company and your business savvy. He’ll want your help.”

“He’ll lock the doors and send everyone home before he’ll ask for my help. The man can barely stand to breathe the same air I do, and that goes double for me. So if he’s coming to work here, I have to either stop breathing or resign. Pretty clear choice from where I’m standing.”

“You could at least give him a chance to—”

Ka-thunk-a-thunk-a-thunk!

Lara turned her head in unison with Nell as the leather chair bumped recklessly against the desk, rocking as it slowed to a listing wobble. Ka-thunk. Ka-thunk. Ka…thunk. “Calvin?” The chair was empty, its well-worn leather showing less than a wrinkle where a small boy had been. “Calvin?” Lara’s voice rose, as did a knot of tension in her throat. Amazing, how quickly a woman’s maternal instincts kicked in…even when the woman wasn’t particularly maternal. An empty chair meant a child somewhere else and, if that somewhere else wasn’t within view, a completely out of proportion panic set in. She’d learned a lot about that smothering sense of alarm during the past several days. Calvin was turning out to be a regular Houdini. “Calvin,” she called louder now, her gaze sweeping the ins and outs of the room, any space a forty-pound boy might squeeze in, under or behind.

“The door’s open.” Nell was already heading that way, but Lara beat her to the doorway and into the next office, listening hard for the sounds of a small boy on the loose. A swift visual check under Nell’s neat-as-a-pin desk revealed no Calvin. There was no Calvin hiding behind the file cabinet, no Calvin in the coat closet either, and Lara’s strides lengthened as she started for the hall. “Calvin? Come back here, right now.”

A husky, little-boy giggle wafted back from the reception area at the end of the hall, followed by the slapping sound of small rubber soles on ceramic tile. Then the ding of the elevator bell, a faint, “Oomph!” and a surprised, “Whoa there, Peter Pan. You’re flying a little low, aren’t you?”

“Who are you?” Calvin’s voice demanded.

“I’m Captain Hook,” Bryce’s voice growled back playfully. “…and I eat little lost boys for breakfast!”

“Mommy!” Calvin shrieked. He was, understandably, not overly trusting of men these days. “Mommy!!!”

Lara came around the corner into the large reception area and Calvin practically buckled her knees in his clinging haste to get behind her. She wished there were someone she could put between her and Bryce, but unfortunately, all the available knees were taken. “You didn’t have to scare him to death,” she said defensively, because she was a little shaken and Bryce was a handy target. “He’s only four.”

Bryce looked from Calvin to Lara and, beyond her, to Nell. Then he stooped to the child’s level, even though he remained a respectful distance back. “Sorry, Cal,” he said with a smile, both beguiling and tender. “I’m not really Captain Hook and I never eat anything larger than a bagel for breakfast. I was only playing.”

Calvin’s death grip on her knees loosened. “Who’s Pe’er Pan?” he asked.

“A boy who can fly.”

Cal thought that over carefully. “Who’s Cap’n Hook?”

The corner of Bryce’s mouth lifted in tune with the arching of his eyebrows. “A pirate,” he said.

Stepping out from behind Lara, Cal kept his hand clenched in the linen of her slacks. “Who are you?”

Bryce stayed at the four-year-old’s level as his gaze momentarily lifted to Lara’s. “I’m your mommy’s new boss.”

“She’s not my mommy,” Cal corrected sternly and without prompting. “She’s Aunt Lara.”

“In that case, I’m your Aunt Lara’s new boss.”

Intent on clearing up any possible misunderstanding, Cal raised a determined little chin. “I’m the boss of myself.”

“That’s an interesting philosophy. What does your Aunt Lara think about it?”

“She likes it,” Cal stated confidently.

“I’ll just bet she does.”

“Uh-huh.” Calvin, sensing a kindred spirit, but not quite sure enough to risk getting too close to Bryce, stepped away from Lara into the no-man’s land in between. “Who’s the boss of you?”

“Until today, I was the boss of myself, too, but now I think the shareholders may have the upper hand.”

“I hold Aunt Lara’s hand when we cross the street,” Calvin informed him. “So she won’t get runned over.”

“I’m glad to know that, Cal—is it all right if I call you Cal?”

The child nodded solemnly, his little chest expanding with self-importance, obviously falling victim to Bryce’s charm despite Lara’s devout wish otherwise.

Bryce sealed the deal with an answering nod. “I’m glad you keep your Aunt Lara safe, Cal, because that is a very important job. I would be very sad if anything happened to her.”

Oh, right, Lara thought. As if he wouldn’t shove her in front of the nearest Mack truck if he thought he could get away with it. But he was being nice to her nephew, and for that she could give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Me, too.” Calvin smiled up at her with the gaptoothed grin that had already found a soft spot in her heart. “He likes you same as me, Aunt Lara.”

“Mm-hmm,” she said without conviction. “You know what? It’s time for us to leave, partner. Are you ready to go?”

The child’s eyes widened and his eyebrows dipped in a calculating vee, an expression with which Lara had become very familiar over the past week and a half. It meant Calvin had an agenda. “I got to spin first,” he said and dashed off, a streak of pure energy in a red striped shirt and denim overalls, racing down the hall, heading for Adam’s office and the whirling chair.

Bryce pushed to his feet. “Does he go everywhere at that speed?”

“No,” Lara said with a sigh. “Usually he goes faster.”

“I guess there’s a good reason he couldn’t spin right here?”

“Two seconds after we walked into Adam’s office, Calvin discovered the chair will turn in a complete circle and he’s been whirling like the Tasmanian Devil all morning.”

One corner of Bryce’s mouth tipped with a half smile. “All morning, huh? Sounds like you’ve been here since dawn. Is that your normal schedule or are you trying to impress your new boss?”

“You are not now and never will be my boss.” Lara hadn’t meant to snap, but the edginess was just there in her voice, in the thick knot of injustice in her throat, in the sudden realization that he was wearing jeans and deck shoes and a shirt better suited to weeding the garden than working in an office. “The only reason I came in at all today was to leave my resignation on your desk. But—”

“You decided not to ruin my first day on the job.”

“Nell tore it up.”

Bryce nodded. “Good work, Nell. Give yourself a raise.”

“You can’t do that,” Lara informed him, thinking he’d have the company in shambles within six months. “Not that Nell doesn’t deserve a raise, but you can’t just give her one without going through Human Resources.”

The smile reached a wry completion. “Are you telling me I have to get permission before giving my secretary a raise?”

“Of course not,” Nell said firmly…no fool, she. “You’re the boss.”

“There’s something called protocol,” Lara said, the snap continuing undaunted in her voice. “Your first day might be a good time to figure out what that means.”

“You’re my assistant. You figure it out and tell me what it means.”

“I’m not—”

“Hey! Aunt Lara’s boss!” Calvin yelled down the hall for attention. “Come in here and watch me spin!”

“I’ll go after him.” Nell turned on her heel, directing a stern glance over her shoulder at Bryce. “You convince Lara to stay.”

“Consider it done,” Bryce said as Nell walked away and around the corner at a sensible, unhurried pace.

“Not you!” Calvin’s voice was loud and commanding as he caught sight of Nell. “Aunt Lara’s boss!”

“He’s busy,” Nell said in a voice that was softer, but just as commanding. “For now, you’ve got me and I’m going to get to that chair first.” There was a momentary lull after the threat, then the muffled shuffle of Nell pretending to run and of Calvin racing to stay ahead of her and then a faint, but audible shout of childish glee. “I beat you!”

Lara frowned, feeling she had to offer some sort of explanation for Cal’s exuberance. “He likes to get everywhere first,” she said.

“Things like that are important when you’re four. Plus, it is a really cool chair. I’ve taken a few turns in it myself.” His smile turned persuasive and charming. “Stay, Lara.”

“No,” she said in succinct answer and turned away because…well, because he was persuasive and charming. “I can’t, even if I wanted to.”

“But you do want to, don’t you, Lara?”

His soft challenge stopped her, the truth of it sifting through her like a fine powder, coating all her denial. She did want to stay, if only to see him fail. “There has never been any love lost between us, Bryce. We both know that and you’re not going to trick me into saying I love my job just so you can take even greater pleasure in firing me.”

“You believe I’d fire you?”

“In a heartbeat and with great pleasure.”

His expression changed and when he spoke again, the teasing note she always heard in his voice was missing. “You know, for years now I’ve harbored the idea that you knew me perhaps better than anyone. Didn’t like me, but understood essentially, who I am. It’s a disappointment to discover you know nothing about me, at all.”

She felt ashamed, for some unimaginable reason. “I can’t think how you ever got such a ridiculous idea.”

“Maybe because of the inordinate amount of energy you expend to convince me of how smart you are.” His smile scolded her gently. “But quitting because you’re afraid to work with me isn’t smart, Lara. You’re not a coward and this isn’t what you want, so cut to the chase, vent your real feelings and let’s get past this.”

He was so wrong, so very, very wrong, she hardly knew where to begin. “You won’t convince me to stay by appealing to my fighting spirit, Bryce. Believe it or not, I don’t particularly enjoy sparring with you and working with you every day would be just too exhausting.”

“Maybe, but it won’t be boring.”

How had he known that with Adam in charge, she had experienced occasional bouts of boredom? Adam was such a solid, deliberate thinker, never hesitant to make a decision, but not rushing into one, either. Risks were analyzed, considered from every angle, incorporated into the long-range plans. Lara admired that, but she also loved the adrenaline rush of danger, the moments when the only choice was to pick one risk over another. “I’m resigning, Bryce,” she said, hating the decision but knowing it had to be this way. “Effective immediately.”

He touched her arm, kept her from walking away from him and sent an unexpected tangle of sensations coursing beneath her skin. “I won’t beg, Lara, but I will ask you for two months notice. Considering your position and the difficulty in finding someone to replace you, I think that’s only fair.”

“Fair?” she repeated. “It’s not fair that Calvin has two parents who can’t take care of him. Compared with that, I think an employee leaving without notice is merely an inconvenience.”

“What happened to his parents?”

“Nothing happened to them. They’re just…” Lara sighed, not wanting to reveal her dysfunctional family, but unable to honestly sidestep the question, either. The truth was, she was furious with the whole lot of them and didn’t much care who knew it. “Marie—I can’t bring myself to refer to her as his mother, although she did give birth to him—found motherhood and marriage unfulfilling and left before Cal was a year old. Cal wouldn’t recognize her if he saw her on the street. I’m not sure I would, either. As for my brother? Derrick won’t take responsibility for himself, much less for a child. However, from time to time he catches the this-is-my-son-damn-it syndrome and pops in to assert his paternal rights. Marie, at least, is consistent and seems to have successfully forgotten she even has a child.”

“So where has Calvin been for four years?”

If possible, Lara hated this part even more. “With one or the other of my sisters. Apparently, they’ve been bouncing him back and forth between their apartments and a twenty-four hour day-care center. Then about three weeks ago, Derrick showed up and convinced Shelly to let him take Cal for the afternoon. When he wasn’t back two days later, my sisters called me.”

“They should have called the police.”