The Boss's Surprise Son / Doctoring the Single Dad

THE BOSS’S SURPRISE SON

TERESA CARPENTER

DOCTORING THE SINGLE DAD

MARIE FERRARELLA

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THE BOSS’S SURPRISE SON

TERESA CARPENTER

About the Author

TERESA CARPENTER believes in the power of unconditional love, and that there’s no better place to find it than between the pages of a romance novel. Reading is a passion for Teresa—a passion that led to a calling. She began writing more than twenty years ago, and marks the sale of her first book as one of her happiest memories. Teresa gives back to her craft by volunteering her time to Romance Writers of America on a local and national level.

A fifth generation Californian, she lives in San Diego, within miles of her extensive family, and knows with their help she can accomplish anything. She takes particular joy and pride in her nieces and nephews, who are all bright, fit, shining stars of the future. If she’s not at a family event you’ll usually find her at home—reading, writing, or playing with her adopted Chihuahua, Jefe.

Dear Reader,

My dedication in this book is to my niece and her new husband, who got married while I was writing this book. She’s a beautiful young mother, and he’s a handsome young sailor from the Midwest. They met on a Navy base in California, and the rest is just the beginning of a long history to be lived.

A wedding is truly a magical event when it’s for the right reasons. In our stories we often bend the order of things —putting our characters in marriages and then letting them find love together. It’s fun, isn’t it? Watching them find their way to each other?

Seeing my niece and her new husband’s joy in each other was truly inspirational as I finished Rick and Savannah’s story. I hope you enjoy their journey.

Teresa Carpenter

For my beautiful niece Erika Beasley and her

handsome groom Aaron Miller

Congratulations, Mr and Mrs Miller

Welcome to the family, Aaron

CHAPTER ONE

RICK SULLIVAN left his office on the hunt for food. He’d been wrapped up in meetings with his department managers all morning going over end-of-year goals. They looked as if they would exceed projected sales. A good thing as he hoped to take Sullivans’ Jewels into the international market next year to celebrate their centennial.

Not the best timing for his personal assistant to be out for knee surgery.

He noticed with relief that his new assistant Savannah Jones wasn’t at her desk and moved over to flip the hourglass she kept on the corner. One end was white marble, the other black, and she’d asked him to place it black-side-up whenever he left the building. Apparently it was a pressing question when people saw his door was open.

When he got closer he saw he’d been both right and wrong. Ms. Jones wasn’t at her desk, she was under it.

He slowly shook his head. He had two weaknesses: chocolate and his paternal grandmother. Both had the potential to get him in trouble, but where he could muster the discipline to say no to chocolate chip cookies, he’d never mastered the art of denying Gram’s pleading blue eyes.

Which explained his current view of his new assistant’s backside as she delved under her desk.

Temporary assistant, he reminded himself. His regular assistant, the highly efficient Miss Molly Green would be back in six months, two weeks, five days and—he glanced at his watch—three hours and forty-five minutes.

Damn right he was counting. And it was all Gram’s fault. She’d convinced him to hire Ms. Jones, a bit of fluff with little practical work experience and a penchant for chatter. Gram knew the Jones family, and when Rick blew through three assistants in the first three weeks of Molly’s leave, Gram took advantage of his guilt and frustration to refer her friend and to insist he keep Ms. Jones on until Molly’s return.

Though Ms. Jones’s head burrowed out of view, he had no problem recognizing the half on display. Her bent position caused the gray fabric of her pants to pull taut, intimately framing the lush jut of her derriere.

Suddenly warm, he shrugged out of his jacket and without conscious thought walked around the side of her desk to get a better view.

His cheeks heated when he realized what he’d done. Annoyed at himself and her, he snapped, “Ms. Jones, what do you think you’re doing?”

She started and a muffled “Ouch!” followed the sound of her head hitting the underside of the desk. “I’m … trying to …” She tugged on something out of sight, the motion causing her hips to wiggle enticingly. “… plug in my new electric stapler. But … the cord is … stuck.”

More tugging, more wiggling, and he saw a bulky gray object shift on her desk.

Honestly, did he deserve this? It wasn’t as if he expected his assistant to wait on him. He took care of his own coffee, dry cleaning and personal business. Were competent, efficient and prompt too much to ask for?

And okay, to be fair, in the four weeks she’d been here Ms. Jones had shown she understood instructions and could successfully proof her own work, which was better than the misfits he’d gone through in the first three weeks. But her methods were all over the place, much like her shifting hips.

“Ms. Jones, surely you could have called maintenance to handle this for you?” he asked impatiently.

“Gracious, I’m not going to call maintenance just for a plug-in. The cord is just a little short, that’s all. I’ll be finished here in a moment. Did you need something?”

Wiggle, bend, wiggle.

Rick groaned as heat flared through him once again, and he almost strangled on his own breath.

Did he need something? Was she kidding? He’d be lucky to remember his own name at the moment. He should walk away, just end the torment. Yet, everything in him denied him the option of leaving her vulnerable to another man’s approach. He glanced around sharply to make sure no male neared the vicinity. They were alone—both a blessing and a curse.

“Ms. Jones, I insist you remove yourself from under there this instant,” he bit out.

“I’ve almost got it, but it’s stuck. Can you push the cord through from that side?” she asked.

Anything to bring this scene to a close. He moved behind the desk and bent forward to shove the electric stapler closer to the opening for cords. Unfortunately the hole was full and the cord buckled up instead of dropping down.

He hesitated. He’d have to step between her legs to get the leverage he needed and somehow that seemed too intimate.

“Rick?”

“Just a blasted minute. You have too many cords in here.” Manning up, he carefully placed his foot in the narrow opening between her shins and leaned over her to reach the tangle of cords. He shoved at the stubborn cord and his weight shifted, bringing his knee in contact with the soft cushion of her butt.

“Aha!” she exclaimed.

He nearly jumped out of his skin in his hurry to retreat to safety.

“That did it.” Triumph rang in her voice.

He kept his gaze carefully plastered to her screen saver, a picture of her with her brother and sister, as she backed out and dusted off her hands.

“Thanks for the help.” Her leaf-green eyes smiled as she ran a hand down the length of her mahogany ponytail to check it was smooth. “What can I do for you?”

His mind went blank. Why had he stopped at her desk?

“You can stay out from under your desk. We have maintenance on site for a reason. Next time use them,” he ordered. Turning on his heel, he returned to his office.

His stomach growled as he sat behind his desk, reminding him of his original mission. He ignored it. He’d rather go hungry than wander out that door again.

The corner of Savannah Jones’s lip curled upward in perplexed amusement as she watched her boss disappear into his office. What had that been about? He’d never even said what he wanted.

And for the first time the look in his piercing blue eyes sent a tingle zinging down her spine.

She shook it off and took her seat.

His high-handed attitude was nothing new. Nor was his gruffness—truly, the man could teach grim to the reaper—but his agitation and the fact he couldn’t hold her gaze was.

Hmm. It was almost as if she’d made him nervous.

How interesting.

At six-one with thick dark hair, broad shoulders, narrow hips and piercing blue eyes Rick Sullivan had it all over Dr. McDreamy. And, oh, Savannah had it bad for Dr. McDreamy.

Wait. Wait. Wait. What was she thinking?

Rick made her tingle? She made him nervous? Neither emotion belonged in the workplace. And neither was good when there was no future for them except as colleagues.

She loved her new job, the challenge, the diversity, the responsibility. Executive assistant to the CEO of Sullivans’ Jewels, a family-owned jewelry chain, was more than she’d ever dreamed of. More than she’d ever dared to hope for. Especially with her varied work history, from waitress to floral delivery to two years as a temp in corporate San Diego, she felt like she’d done it all.

She was determined to do a great job. She owed the Sullivans so much, especially Mrs. Sullivan, Rick’s grandmother, not only for this opportunity but also for all they’d done for her sister. The Sullivan family donated two five-thousand-dollar scholarships a year to Paradise Pines students for their college education, renewable each year if the students maintained certain grade levels and continued to give back to the Paradise Pines community.

Savannah’s sister, Claudia, had benefited from their generosity for the past four years. She’d be graduating with honors later this year.

Savannah hadn’t gone to college, and she’d been well into her twenties before she got her first job. Her high-school years had been spent caring for her mom. She’d been seventeen when the cancer eventually took her mom, and her dad had just disappeared into his work, leaving Savannah to raise her younger brother and sister.

So, yeah, she’d already done the family thing, but now Daniel was a cop in La Mesa with a beautiful wife and daughter and Claudia was about to graduate college. It was time for Savannah to think about her own career. She was done playing around, hopping from job to job. This might not be teaching, which she’d dreamed of doing long ago, but it was a career to be proud of, and she wasn’t going to screw it up.

Even if Rick didn’t have an aversion to a workplace romance—and he’d made it more than clear he did—she had an aversion to workaholics. Been there. Done that.

Never again.

Rick worked, worked and worked some more. He was an expert at ignoring personal interaction on the job, to the point where he was considered positively antisocial by most of the staff.

He wasn’t much of a talker, and, the Lord help her, she felt compelled to fill the quiet. So, while he read over reports and letters, she filled him in on all the office gossip. Nothing harmful, just birthdays, anniversaries, family events and such.

He probably didn’t even hear her, though occasionally he’d hold up a finger for silence. So maybe he took in more than she thought.

Taking her seat, she noticed he’d flipped the hourglass black-side-up, which meant he’d been headed out of the office. She didn’t know of any appointments, but he’d been tied up with his managers all day so he’d probably been heading for some lunch.

So why had he retreated to his office instead?

Hmm. Perhaps because she’d made him nervous?

With a grin she reached for the phone to order him a sandwich from a local deli that delivered.

The two of them might not have a future together, but it still felt good to send a man as hot and strong-willed as Rick Sullivan into an agitated retreat. Her self-esteem appreciated the boost.

After placing the order, she reached for her mirror and refreshed her lipstick, suddenly feeling very female and proud of it.

Being executive assistant to the president and CEO of Sullivans’ Jewels demanded a professional appearance. Unfortunately, she’d spent too many years at home not worrying about her makeup or the need to tame her thick mass of hair.

Now a check in the morning and pop-up reminders in her email program kept her from becoming too frayed around the edges throughout the day.

Happily, she noted that there was nothing caught in her straight white teeth, which she considered one of her best features, thanks to Dr. Stevens and three years in braces, though she’d hated them when she was twelve, both Dr. Stevens and the braces.

Now she thanked the beauty gods for her straight teeth and plump lips, which she felt made up for her average features.

When the sandwich arrived, she knocked on Rick’s door and got a finger wave to enter. He eyed her suspiciously as she crossed the room. Tickled by his reaction, she gave him a huge smile as she set the bag on his desk, causing his eyes to narrow even more.

“I thought you might be hungry.”

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“No problem,” she said cheerfully.

She didn’t linger but turned to leave and, because a girl had to find her fun where she could, added a little wiggle to her walk.

A strange sound, kind of a muffled groan, followed her exit. With a wicked grin she settled behind her desk suddenly energized to tackle the afternoon.

The next morning Savannah entered the conference room for her first monthly sales meeting juggling two boxes, a cup of coffee, her notebook and a pile of copies.

Of course Rick already sat at the head of the table. He glanced up at her with a pained look as she dropped her load on the table.

“You’re late, Ms. Jones. What is all that?”

“Copies of the reports you requested plus doughnuts and a few bran muffins for the healthy-minded.” She set her work and coffee aside and opened one of the boxes. “I hope that’s okay. You forgot to tell me if you wanted bagels or doughnuts for the meeting, and I have a Donut Stop near my place so I just ran through there.”

“I didn’t forget anything,” he corrected her. “This is a meeting, not a social event.”

“Oh.” Savannah blinked at him. No food at a morning meeting? The man was Scrooge. Seemed she couldn’t do anything to please him. “I always thought it was a show of appreciation for valued employees.” She set the box in the middle of the table toward the far end. “It’ll be my treat today.”

He scowled at that.

Undeterred—she’d learned while nursing her mother not to let someone else’s mood bring her down—she opened the second box and pulled out napkins and plates, spacing them out over the table. And then she took the box to him, because he might be stiff, but she really did want to impress him and earn a permanent position in his company. “Would you like one?”

She expected him to refuse, but he surprised her by taking a chocolate cake doughnut and placing it on the plate she offered.

“Thank you.”

“Doughnuts! Now you’re talking.” Rett Sullivan, Rick’s twin and a co-owner of Sullivans’ Jewels, along with their four brothers, walked through the door, snagging a cinnamon roll on the way to his seat next to Rick. “You should have done this years ago.”

“You can thank Ms. Jones,” Rick advised.

“Ms. Jones.” Rett toasted her with his coffee mug. “Not only beautiful but sharp and generous, too. When I see you later, I’ll have to thank you properly.”

“I’m sure she got the message,” Rick stated pointedly in a clear signal for his twin to desist.

In response, Rett winked at Savannah.

As identical twins, the two men obviously shared the same height, same build, same coloring. But Rett carried his weight leaner, meaner, his hair longer. Vice President of Design and Purchasing, Rett spurned what he described as the boring, restrictive suits Rick wore, stating they stifled his creativity. Instead, he chose matching dress pants and shirts in solid colors and rich fabrics. Today he wore a dark chocolate brown. The chain of his St. Christopher medal gleamed gold against his neck.

He was a charming flirt, easy to be with and easy to resist. They’d become friends when she asked him to teach her how to work with precious gems to design a gift for her sister’s college graduation.

Rick’s scowl landed on her again, and she quickly reached for the stack of copies and began putting one set at each seat around the table.

The doughnuts were a big hit as sales managers and associates began to fill the room. There was friendly chatter as everyone helped themselves. When she regained her seat, she slid a sideways glance at Rick. He was watching those in the room as if seeing them for the first time.

She wondered if that was a good thing. He began the meeting promptly at eight-thirty and kept to the agenda, moving smoothly from topic to topic while encouraging input from everyone at the table. He had her taking notes, but she noticed he also jotted down items when someone made a good point.

At the end of the meeting the room quickly emptied out, except for Rick. Savannah began clearing the debris.

“Ms. Jones?” He waited until she glanced up to meet his gaze. “What do you have going on with Rett?”

Savannah groaned internally. Just great. Because of Rett’s playful comments Rick now had the wrong impression about them. She could tell him about the lessons; they weren’t a secret. But she wasn’t entirely sure he’d approve or believe she didn’t have a thing for his brother. So she decided to prevaricate.

Avoiding his gaze, she dumped a load of trash and then picked up the wastebasket and brought it back to the table to finish the cleanup.

“I don’t have anything with him today, but you wanted me to sit in on the meeting for the security upgrade and that’s tomorrow.”

He blinked, and then crossed his arms over his chest. “I meant are you seeing him?”

“I see him every day.” She smiled and blinked, playing confused.

Should she just tell him? After all, it wasn’t the office romance he feared. No, best not open a can of worms. The lessons were important to her and she didn’t want to mess things up.

What if he wanted to see her work as proof? With two weeks of lessons under her belt she was thrilled at how well she was doing, but she was still new at the craft and by no means ready to go public with her efforts. Especially not to a professional jeweler.

“It sounded like he expected to see you later. As if you had a date,” he stated baldly.

“Gracious no. That’s just Rett.” She waved a careless hand, her comment true, yet not an outright denial, a fact that didn’t slip past Rick if his narrowed gaze was any indication. “He’s a bit of a flirt, you know,” she confided as if sharing a secret.

And then she just continued to smile and waited for him to move on.

And waited. He stood, hands in his pockets, staring at her.

“Or maybe I misunderstood,” she said guilelessly. “Did you want me to find him and ask him something?”

“No. I—” He glanced at his watch, clearly still suspicious, but mindful of his schedule. “Never mind. Can you stop by the legal department on your way back to your desk? I want to know if we’ve received the signed contracts from Emerson for the international deal. We should have received them by now.”

“Of course.” Savannah dumped the last of the trash, glad to have avoided the confrontation. For now. He’d find out eventually. But she hoped to be indispensable by then.

Her lessons were important to her. But private. For years the classes she took at night and online had been her only freedom, her bid for independence from too much responsibility at home.

She still took courses that interested her or furthered her career. She just didn’t talk about them much. Somehow, they’d always been too important to share. The knowledge, yes, but the classes, she kept to herself.

Nobody could steal the joy from her if they didn’t know about it.

Rick turned to leave, and then paused. “The doughnuts were a nice touch. Be sure to put in an expense voucher.”

Savannah watched him go. Not so stiff after all.

Deciding he needed a break later that afternoon, Rick dropped by Rett’s workshop to see if he wanted to go kayaking.

“Man that sounds so good.” Rett didn’t lift his head from the piece he was faceting. “But I have a client consult in twenty minutes. Can you wait an hour?”

“No. I only have about an hour. I’m going to go ahead and go. I really need to work off some tension,” Rick said.

“Okay, we’ll connect later in the week. Call me when you get back, so I don’t send the Coast Guard out looking for you,” Rett replied.

As he hopped into his kayak and began paddling against the waves, Rick realized he’d really needed the fresh air and exercise. Pitting himself against the ocean, using his mind and muscles to beat the elements gave him a sense of freedom he got nowhere else.

Unfortunately, the rhythmic lift, dip and pull of paddling, first one side and then the other, left room for thoughts of Savannah to invade his mind. Darn it. Too often thoughts of her occupied him when he should be concentrating on business.

The idea of her spending private time with Rett nagged at him. And not just because of Rick’s policy against interoffice relationships—Rett followed his own rules in that regard and was much less strict in his personal interaction with colleagues.

But Savannah was Rick’s. Oh, not romantically, but still, he realized he didn’t want to share her with anybody.

He dug in deeper, pulled back harder, causing water to roll over the sides of the shallow boat.

Okay, he’d noticed her soft curves and her great legs. Of course he’d noticed; he was a man after all. But he had no business noticing. She was his administrative assistant, not his girlfriend.

His inappropriate thoughts served as a reminder of why he never mixed business with pleasure. It was a bad practice. It definitely led to trouble and, for him, it had no future.

His muscles burned and the chill, salt-laden air felt good against his sweaty brow.

Marriage wasn’t for him. In his experience love was always followed by pain. Better to keep his relationships light and put his energies into the business.

As for Savannah, he wished her gone, not hanging out with Rett.

Turning the kayak, Rick firmly put thoughts of Savannah’s body, dating and marriage aside and headed back to shore. He had a business to tend to.

CHAPTER TWO

RICK HAD STEPPED OUT FOR LUNCH the next afternoon when a pretty redhead toting a baby carrier stopped by Savannah’s desk.

“Hi, I’m Rick’s sister-in-law, Jesse,” the woman introduced herself. “His brother Brock’s wife. Is he in?”

“I’m sorry, no. I’m his new assistant, Savannah. Can I help you with something?” she offered.