The Game Show Bride

Kelli studied Sam.

Nice suit. Made to measure, she was sure. Image was everything to corporate hotshots. Still, if she was objective, she had to admit the man was attractive, even more so when he smiled. His lips were drawn into a taut line now, which was a pity since he had such a nice mouth. It was a tad on the wide side, with a small scar just below the bottom lip that only added to his sensuality.

She coughed into her hand and glanced around the room. Where had such an improper thought come from? Samuel Maxwell was her boss. He was, now that she’d made the commitment to this game, her adversary. And if she were to win, which she certainly planned to do, she had to think of him as such. She could not afford to think of him as a man who had once caused her pulse to rev with a simple smile, no matter how sexy she found that little scar.

Jackie Braun began making up stories almost as soon as she learned how to write them down. She never wavered from her goal of becoming a professional writer, but a steady diet of macaroni and cheese during college convinced her of the need for a reliable income. She earned her bachelor’s degree in journalism from Central Michigan University in 1987 and continues to work as an editorial writer for a daily newspaper. Fiction remains her first love. She lives with her husband and son in Michigan.

Working side by side, nine to five—and beyond….

No matter how hard these couples try to keep their relationships strictly professional, romance is definitely on the agenda!

Hired by Mr. Right

by Nicola Marsh

#3834, in Harlequin Romance®

Books by Jackie Braun

HARLEQUIN ROMANCE®

3804—HER STAND-IN GROOM

SILHOUETTE ROMANCE®

1479—ONE FIANCÉE TO GO, PLEASE

1599—TRUE LOVE, INC.

The Game Show Bride

Jackie Braun

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my “German girl,” Linda Boeke,

exchange student extraordinaire.

I miss hearing you singing around the house.

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

KELLI WALTERS was late for work again—half an hour late this time. She jiggled the fussy toddler on her hip as she slid her time card through the punch at Danbury Department Store’s distribution center. To make matters worse, she was showing up for her shift with two kids in tow, one of whom was irritable and running a slight fever from teething.

“Remember, Katie, you need to keep Chloe with you in the break room,” she reminded her seven-year-old. “You both need to stay out of sight until Mrs. Baker can pick you up.”

That plan went up in smoke when Kelli turned the corner and ran straight into a man’s broad chest. She stumbled back, an apologetic smile on her lips.

She didn’t know the man by name, but she’d seen him the week before walking through the distribution center with one of the assistant managers. The instantaneous tug of attraction she’d felt then had caught her off guard. She’d chided herself for it, even as she’d returned the smile he’d sent her way.

And here he was again. Only this time he wasn’t smiling.

“Sorry,” she said.

He acknowledged her apology with a curt nod.

“What are those children doing back here?”

At the man’s harsh tone, Katie slid behind her mother and Chloe sent up a wail of distress.

Kelli jiggled the baby and kissed her rosy, heated cheek. “It’s okay, pumpkin. Don’t cry.” She transferred her gaze to the man. “Who exactly are you?”

“Sam Maxwell.”

The name seemed familiar, although she couldn’t quite place it.

“Ah, the new guy,” she said at last, reasonably sure he was the distribution center’s new manager, a position for which she had applied and never received even the courtesy of an interview.

Rumor had it that this guy was some shirttail relation to the personnel director, although Kelli didn’t think he looked much like the short and bald Mr. Elliott. No, he was tall, at least six-two, with a full head of black hair and blue eyes that glared out from beneath a slash of dark brow.

He must be pretty full of himself, she decided, taking note of the nicely tailored suit he wore. Khaki pants and a button-down shirt would have been acceptable management attire in the warehouse. The suit was overkill and now it bore the unmistakable imprint of a child’s runny nose just above the impeccably folded silk handkerchief that peeked from the breast pocket.

Serves him right, she thought none too charitably.

“New guy.” He scowled. And then said dryly, “Yes, I guess I am the new guy.”

Manager or no manager, handsome or not, he didn’t need to upset her children.

“Well, Mr. Maxwell, did you really need to shout?” She tilted her head toward Chloe, who was still whimpering.

Dark eyebrows shot up over icy blue eyes. Clearly, he wasn’t used to being reprimanded, especially from someone who obviously ranked low in the company’s pecking order. Still, he lowered his voice when he said, “I asked a question. What are those children doing here?”

So, he was going to be one of those managers—the overbearing, inflexible kind who believed in following rules to the exclusion of all else. Employees weren’t people with families and problems to this type of boss. No. They were automatons that needed to get the job done without asking questions or voicing complaints.

Unbidden and utterly inappropriate came the thought that it was a pity his good looks didn’t extend to his personality. She brushed it aside, denying the attraction she had felt from that first glance across the room a week earlier. Her girls came first. They always came first.

“They’re my kids. My sitter had a doctor’s appointment this morning. She’ll be here soon to pick them up.”

“Soon? This is a business, not a day care.”

She sighed in exasperation. As if that had escaped her notice. Kelli didn’t know why she had expected him to understand or to care that even on good days being a single mother could be a trial. On days like this one, it was all she could do not to sit down and cry alongside her cranky toddler.

Chloe had kept her up most of the night. She was getting molars and wanted to ensure her misery had company. Of course, it hadn’t helped that Chicago was in the grip of a major heat wave, making Kelli’s fourth-floor apartment stiflingly hot. Two electric fans merely moved hot air around the small rooms, doing nothing to cool them. The coup de grâce had come that morning when the sitter had called. Kelli was ready to sell her soul for one hour of peaceful slumber in an air-conditioned room. Instead, she had eight hours of drudgery to look forward to and then an hour at home before heading to her night class. She’d be lucky to fall into bed before midnight and only then if she ignored the sink full of dirty dishes and mountain of laundry growing out of her closet.

“I’m aware that this isn’t a day care,” she replied, trying to keep her tone civil. “But I couldn’t get anyone else. My backup sitter is out of town for a few days.”

“Your personal problems are just that, personal. But they could become Danbury’s problems if one of your children were to get hurt.” He motioned with one hand toward the stacked pallets of inventory. “This is no place for children to be roaming around free.”

“Roaming?” She sucked in a deep breath, swallowing an oath in the process. And to think she’d smiled at him on that first day. It only went to show how sorely lacking her judgment remained when it came to men.

Voice tight, she replied, “I promise to keep them on their leashes.”

“And how can you do that and perform your job?” He didn’t wait for her to reply. “You can’t. Punch out and go home.”

“Punch out and…Am I being fired?”

“No, but this will go in your personnel file. Now it’s my turn to ask, who are you?”

So, the hotshot was determined to hone his reputation at her expense. Between gritted teeth she said, “Kelli Walters. That’s Kelli with an i. Walters is the standard spelling. My middle initial is A.”

“Well, Kelli Walters, you can consider this a warning. Bring your kids to work with you again and you will be punching out for good.”

She was still gaping after him when someone said, “I see you made friends with Mr. Maxwell.”

Kelli turned to find her co-worker, Arlene Hughes, standing behind her. Arlene was two decades older than Kelli’s twenty-eight, with Lucille Ball red hair and the dramatically bowed lips to match. Despite the difference in their ages, the two women had been fast friends since Kelli hired in just after Chloe’s birth.

“Mr. Understanding? Oh, yeah, he’s going to be a load of fun to work for. He makes the last manager seem warm and fuzzy by comparison.”

“He’s not the new warehouse manager.”

For the second time, Kelli found herself asking, “Who is he?”

“Samuel Maxwell. I believe there’s a Third after his name. You know, the new vice president of Danbury Department Stores.”

Kelli felt her mouth drop open, even as her eyes slid shut. Way to make friends and influence people. If she ever hoped to climb the corporate ladder at Danbury’s once she earned her master’s in business administration—assuming that happened at some point before she needed support hose and a walker—this was not the way to start out.

“Is he important, Mom?” Katie asked.

“Oh, yeah, Katie-did. He’s really important.”

“Well, I didn’t like him,” her daughter announced. “He yells. And he made Chloe cry.”

“I think I might cry,” Kelli mumbled.

She blew out a breath that caused her overly long bangs to stir. She needed a haircut and maybe some highlights to pep up the color of her mousy blond hair, but she had neither the time nor the money for such frivolous things. And that seemed to be the story of her life lately. No matter how hard she worked, she never seemed to get ahead. She felt like a hamster on a treadmill, only a hamster got to sleep all day. Kelli just had more running to do.

Anger and frustration bubbled to the surface. People like Samuel Maxwell the Third, who’d probably been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, would never understand what it was like to sacrifice and scrimp and do without and still wind up dodging creditors.

“I bet that man drinks bottled water, buys designer underwear and has his nails professionally buffed once a week. His kind wouldn’t last an hour doing what we do day in and day out. He might get his hands dirty. Or his clothes.”

She chuckled then, perversely pleased. “Oh my God! Just wait till he realizes he has baby snot on his pricey suit.”

Arlene laughed, too, a great booming sound that had the Danbury’s logo on her T-shirt bouncing on her impressive chest.

“He’s awfully good-looking, though,” the older woman mused. “Kinda reminds me of Pierce Brosnan with all that dark hair and those blue eyes. If I were ten years younger I wouldn’t mind taking him for a tumble.”

“If you were ten years younger and built like a Playboy centerfold he still wouldn’t notice you. His kind dates humorless women named Muffy and Babs. He’s too busy looking down his nose to really take notice of working stiffs like us. If I didn’t need this job, I’d take him down a peg or two.”

“Hey, you know what you should do?” Arlene didn’t wait for her to reply. “You should go on that new reality show, Swapping Places.”

Kelli rarely watched television. She simply didn’t have time. “Never heard of it.”

“It airs every Tuesday night. It’s kind of Survivor meets Big Brother with a corporate twist.”

“Sorry, I’ve never seen those shows, either.”

Arlene shook her head in dismay.

“I know you take classes three nights a week, but what do you do for relaxation?”

“I sleep,” Kelli said dryly.

“That’s depressing, kiddo. You’re young. You’re in the prime of your life. You’ve got a nice shape, a pretty face. You should get out more. Date. Live it up a little.”

“I have too many responsibilities to ‘live it up.’ As for dating, I’m not interested.” She recalled the smile she’d sent Sam Maxwell the first time she’d seen him and her resolve hardened. “I don’t need a man in my life.”

Arlene sighed, knowing her protest was useless. This was an old argument. “Okay, at least hook up to cable or get an antenna so you can escape through television.”

“I can’t afford cable, and besides, the television works just fine with our old VCR. This way, the only things the girls can watch are the educational videos we check out at the library.”

“If you go on Swapping Places you could win half a million bucks. That would buy a lot of educational videos.”

“Yeah, well, I could win ten times more than that playing the lottery and the odds are probably better.” She shook her head. “No thanks. I’ll make my money the old-fashioned way. I’ll work hard and earn it.”

“Oh, you’d earn it on Swapping Places,” Arlene replied. “If Samuel Maxwell agreed to do the show, too, you’d be the vice president of Danbury Department Stores for an entire month.”

Kelli stopped in her tracks. “Get out.”

“I’m serious. Why do you think they call it Swapping Places?”

“And he’d be here in the distribution center, doing my job for the month?”

When Arlene nodded, Kelli snorted out a laugh. Glancing down at her callused hands, she said, “I’d almost pay to see that.”

“More than just trading jobs, you’d trade lives. He’d be living in your apartment, taking night classes, making do on your budget.”

“He’d be in my un-air-conditioned apartment, eating mac and cheese, dealing with backed-up sinks and leaky faucets while I’d go live in the lap of luxury for an entire month? Sounds like a dream.”

Chloe began crying and the dream ended.

“So, what do you say? You want to do it?” Arlene asked.

“Oh, yeah. Sure,” she replied with a roll of her eyes. “Sign me up.”

Arlene cleared her throat. “I’m glad you feel that way, because I already did.”

“You did what?!”

“I signed you up for Swapping Places,” Arlene replied as Kelli bounced Chloe on her hip. “I went on the show’s Web site and typed in your name and information.”

“When? Why?”

“A few weeks back. Right after you applied for the manager’s job and didn’t get asked for an interview.”

“So, what, I’m supposed to go on national television and show Danbury’s head honchos what I can do?”

“That was the general idea.” Arlene shrugged. “But if you aren’t interested, when the show’s people call—if they call—you can simply say no.”

“You’d better believe I’ll tell them no.”

CHAPTER ONE

Four weeks later

“YES, I’ll do it. I’ll go on Swapping Places.”

Kelli couldn’t believe she’d said it, but she nonetheless enjoyed the way her announcement caused Danbury’s new vice president to blink in surprise. It didn’t matter that at the moment the last thing she wanted to do was go on some reality television program. She’d think about that later and probably regret it. But right now she wanted to savor her victory, miniscule as it was.

She assured herself that her sudden willingness to participate in the show was only a matter of pride and had nothing at all to do with the fact that, arrogant and annoying as Sam Maxwell was, her pulse seemed to take off like a rocket whenever he glanced her way. Just nerves, she told herself.

And she was nervous.

They were seated in the company’s conference room in the Danbury Building in downtown Chicago. Another time, Kelli might have enjoyed the swank surroundings and the killer view of Lake Michigan. But right now, she was still too tense. Her stomach had been knotted since receiving the call—summons really—from Samuel Maxwell the night before telling her to report to the main office the following morning. He hadn’t given her a reason, but his tone had been no-nonsense to the point of sounding grave. She’d spent a nearly sleepless night worrying that she was about to be fired. She’d been late twice in the past week, after all. Now, she wasn’t sure if being unemployed would have been so bad given what she had just agreed to do.

The legal counsel and assorted other representatives for Swapping Places sat on one side of the long conference table. Danbury’s lawyers, Sam and his secretary sat at the other. One look at her frowning boss and Kelli had opted for the chair closest to the door when she arrived. For the past twenty minutes, the show’s producer had done most of the talking and all of the pacing. Sylvia Haywood stood five-foot-three thanks to a pair of spike heels, but she stalked around the conference room with all the confidence and stature of a five-star general.

“You’ll do it. Great!” She barely paused for a breath before she began ticking off the particulars of the show in a raspy voice that Kelli would bet was the result of smoking at least a couple packs of cigarettes a day. Then she paused and pinned Kelli with a flinty stare.

“You have kids, right?”

“Two girls.”

“Hmm, that won’t do.”

Kelli gasped, startled by the woman’s bluntness. “Well, I’m not going to get rid of them just to do a television show.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Sylvia paced again, running a hand through her spiky red hair. “You’d have to live in each other’s homes, essentially take over all aspects of each other’s lives. This works best with single people.”

“I’m not married,” Kelli said.

“Yes, but you have kids. How are you going to feel about leaving them in his care for a month?”

Kelli shook her head and without sparing a glance at her boss said, “Oh, no. Absolutely not. My kids come with me.”

“That pretty much blows the whole point of the show. He needs to step into your shoes. You’re a single parent. That has to cause a lot of stress and create a lot of challenges for you, especially since you work full time and take night classes.”

“You have no idea,” Kelli muttered.

“No, Ms. Walters, he has no idea.” Sylvia pointed at Sam.

“Well, I’m not leaving my kids in a stranger’s care.”

“Ms. Walters, a camera crew would be there most of the time,” Sylvia said. “And, if it would make you feel more comfortable, you could get your sitter to move in for the duration as long as she stayed in the background and didn’t perform any actual child-care duties. Your girls would be safe and well cared for.”

“No. My daughters are my responsibility.”

Sylvia sighed. “Could they go stay with their father for a month?”

It embarrassed Kelli to admit, “I don’t know where he is.”

“You don’t know where he is? What about child support?” Sam asked.

They were the first words he’d spoken since she’d walked into the room. His tone wasn’t critical. In fact, his expression seemed to be one of concern. Still, Kelli bristled. It reminded her just a little too much of how disposable she and the girls had been to her ex-husband.

Kyle had left without a backward glance while she was still pregnant. He’d never even seen Chloe. The last time Kelli had come face-to-face with him was in a courtroom when they had divvied up their limited assets and dissolved their marriage. He hadn’t sought joint custody or even visitation. He’d simply said goodbye.

“I heard that he moved out of state not long after Chloe was born.” She didn’t add that he’d done so with the college-age girlfriend for whom he’d tossed aside nine years of marriage.

For the millionth time, Kelli told herself it was Kyle’s loss. She didn’t need him. The girls didn’t need him.

“You should have someone track him down,” Sam persisted. “I can put you in touch with a good attorney.”

Pride had her lifting her chin. “I’m perfectly capable of providing for my children, thank you very much.”

“I wasn’t implying that you weren’t. But as their father, he has a responsibility to—”

“Responsibility?” Kelli issued a humorless laugh. “Believe me, that’s not a word in Kyle’s vocabulary.”

“I’ve got it! I know how we can make this show work,” Sylvia interrupted. And Kelli found herself thankful for the woman’s one-track mind. “We’ll have to bend the rules a bit, but I think it would add an interesting twist that our viewers will enjoy.”

“Bend the rules how exactly?” Kelli asked.

“You could spend the weekends with your kids, unless there’s a work function that requires your attention. We probably won’t use much of the tape from then anyway, but Mr. Maxwell would have to be included. And he’d have to handle household tasks as well as any crises that came up. As for during the week, you could slip back into the apartment around midnight, as long as you’re gone by eight the next morning.”

Sam straightened in his seat. “Um, and where will I be?”

“I’m assuming she has a couch,” Sylvia replied, one eyebrow arched. “You’ll have to stay.”

Kelli swallowed hard, but at least had the satisfaction of seeing Sam do the same.

“He c-can’t stay in my apartment,” she stammered. “What would my girls think?”

“She’s right. It wouldn’t look…appropriate.”

“That part wouldn’t be broadcast to America,” Sylvia said. She laid her palms flat on the table and split an exasperated gaze between the pair of them. “Look, we’re all adults here, so this shouldn’t be a problem. You’re not lovers, for crying out loud, and this show is not Temptation Island. So, take it or leave it. This is the last concession I’m willing to make.”

Of course they weren’t lovers. They hardly even knew one another and what Kelli did know about Samuel Maxwell the Third, she didn’t like. Still, a man in her apartment overnight?

“I don’t know,” she said.

“The payout is half a million dollars, Ms. Walters. You need to look at the big picture here.”

Kelli glanced at Sam. Sylvia had already explained that if he won, the television show would make a sizable donation to the charity of Danbury’s choosing. But he didn’t really have anything to lose. Either way, Danbury’s would still receive all that wonderful free publicity. What would she get if she lost? Sylvia seemed to read her mind.

“You’re taking night classes, right?”

“That’s right. I’m working toward my master’s degree in business.”

“This could be the best chance you’ll ever get to prove your potential in management. Consider it an internship. Better yet, consider it a way to broadcast your résumé to every company coast-to-coast. You could wind up a very hot property afterward, Ms. Walters. The last winner was interviewed on Good Morning, America and the Today show, not to mention making the cover of Time. Even the loser wound up doing Oprah.”

Kelli had to admit, her career path at Danbury’s was not looking particularly promising, and not just because the personnel director was hiring family and ignoring her applications. She glanced over at her glowering boss and took a deep breath.

“Okay.”

Sylvia nodded briskly. “We’ll assign a camera crew to each of you for the duration. You’ll have some privacy—bathroom, some financial stuff, it’s all spelled out in the folder I’ve provided—but everything else will be on the record. Not all of what we tape will air. It will be edited down to the salient points. You’ll have to sign a legal waiver, of course.