Полная версия
Playboy Boss, Pregnancy of Passion
‘I want you, and you want me. It’s mutual. So there’s a pretty logical conclusion here.’
He traced her lower lip with his thumb, and Sara’s lips automatically parted. ‘Oh, good. I’m so glad you agree with me,’ he said softly, and bent his head to kiss her. His mouth brushed against hers, the contact light and teasing and tempting her to respond. When she tipped her head back slightly, he deepened the kiss, offering and demanding at the same time.
Sara had kissed men before. Been to bed with men before. But this… This was something else…
TO TAME A PLAYBOY Hot, sexy, and double the pleasure! Modern Heat™ introduces Kate Hardy’s new playboy duet
About BREAKFAST AT GIOVANNI’S, winner of the Romance Novelists’ Association Romance prize 2008:
‘BREAKFAST AT GIOVANNI’S is simply terrific! Sexy, funny, tender, passionate and romantic, this engrossing tale features a loveable heroine and a gorgeous Italian hero who will make you swoon! Kate Hardy is a writer readers can count on in order to deliver an entertaining page-turner which they will devour in a single sitting, and BREAKFAST AT GIOVANNI’S is certainly no exception!’
—www.cataromance.com
About ONE NIGHT, ONE BABY:
‘Hardy’s ONE NIGHT, ONE BABY is a terrific attraction-at-first-sight story. He’s hot, sexy and vulnerable, and she’s patient because in the end she knows he’ll be worth it.’
—RomanticTimesBOOKreviews.com
‘Romantic fiction does not get any better than this! Fresh, funny, heartwarming and absolutely unputdownable, ONE NIGHT, ONE BABY is vintage Kate Hardy! Featuring a lovely heroine, a gorgeous hero, sizzling sexual tension, an adorable cast of secondary characters and steamy romance, ONE NIGHT, ONE BABY is the perfect book to curl up with on a cold winter night!’
—www.cataromance.com
Kate Hardy lives on the outskirts of Norwich with her husband, two small children, a dog—and too many books to count! She wrote her first book at age six, when her parents gave her a typewriter for her birthday. She had the first of a series of sexy romances published at twenty-five, and swapped a job in marketing communications for freelance health journalism when her son was born, so she could spend more time with him. She’s wanted to write for Harlequin Mills & Boon since she was twelve—and when she was pregnant with her daughter, her husband pointed out that writing Medical™ Romances would be the perfect way to combine her interest in health issues with her love of good stories. Now Kate has also ventured into Modern Heat™ Romance too, and SURRENDER TO THE PLAYBOY SHEIKH is her ninth novel for this series.
Kate is always delighted to hear from readers—do drop in to her website at www.katehardy.com
Also by this author:
SURRENDER TO THE PLAYBOY SHEIKH*
HOTLY BEDDED, CONVENIENTLY WEDDED
SOLD TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER
ONE NIGHT, ONE BABY
BREAKFAST AT GIOVANNI’S
*To Tame a Playboy duet
Kate Hardy’s Medical™ Romance duet— The London Victoria :
THE CHILDREN’S DOCTOR’S SPECIAL PROPOSAL
THE GREEK DOCTOR’S NEW-YEAR BABY
PLAYBOY BOSS, PREGNANCY OF PASSION
BY
KATE HARDY
For Michelle Styles—
good friend and fellow history aficionado—with love
PROLOGUE
‘SO WHAT’S her name, Luke?’ Karim asked as he and Luke left the squash court.
‘Whose?’
‘The woman who’s distracting you.’ Karim gave his best friend an appraising look. ‘Why else would I beat you by this much of a margin?’
Luke smiled despite himself, recognising his own question thrown back at him. The difference was, when he’d asked, there had been a woman distracting Karim—the woman who was now his wife. It wasn’t the same for Luke, who had no intention of letting anyone that close to him. ‘Not my social life. Work,’ he said economically.
‘Sounds as if you need some TLC, Lily-style. Come back with me and have dinner with us.’
‘What, tonight? It’s hardly fair, dumping a guest on Lily at the last minute.’
‘You’re not a guest.’ Before Luke had the chance to protest further, Karim had already speed-dialled home. Two minutes later, he hung up and, in his best attempt at Luke’s East London drawl instead of his own cut-glass accent, said, ‘Sorted.’
Luke, knowing that Karim was laughing with him rather than at him, gave in gracefully. It wasn’t as if he was going to find a replacement for Di tonight. The temp agency was sending someone first thing in the morning, and hopefully the temp would stay long enough for him to find proper maternity cover for his personal assistant.
Even though that was going to take time he’d prefer to use more profitably, he was just going to have to be patient.
Ha. Patient. A word that barely existed in his vocabulary. When Luke wanted something, he went for it. He didn’t waste time. And having to wait around on other people’s schedules was the quickest way to drive him crazy.
To his relief, Karim didn’t press him to talk on the way back to his home. Karim simply let them in, headed straight for the kitchen and kissed his wife lingeringly.
‘Put the girl down. For pity’s sake, you’ve been married for three months. You should be over this stage by now,’ Luke said from the doorway.
Lily just laughed. ‘You really are out of sorts, Luke. Here. These will keep you going until dinner.’ She gestured to a plate of canapés on the island unit.
Luke suddenly realised that he’d forgotten to eat lunch—he’d been too busy fixing things to think about food, and now he was ravenous. He needed no second invitation to grab a bar stool and work his way through the canapés. ‘Thanks, Lily.’
As always, her food was wonderful. Restorative. ‘Fabulous,’ he said after the first mouthful.
She inclined her head in thanks. ‘So are you going to tell us what’s bugging you?’ she asked.
He sighed. ‘I just wish I understood why on earth women want babies in the first place. Di hasn’t stopped throwing up since the day she did the pregnancy test, and—’ He stopped abruptly as he caught the glance that Karim and Lily were sharing. The kind of glance that could mean only one thing.
He grimaced. ‘Sorry. I don’t have a shred of manners. I apologise—and of course what I just said doesn’t apply to you. I’m really pleased for you both.’
‘You’d better be,’ Karim said, ‘as you’re going to be an honorary uncle.’
For all Luke knew, he might already be an uncle.
He blocked the thought. The decision he’d made was harsh, but it was also the only one he could have made. If he’d stayed, he would’ve gone under and ended up like the rest of the men in his family.
Doing time.
‘Thank you,’ he said politely. ‘I’m very honoured. When’s the baby due?’
‘Six months.’ Lily laughed. ‘You’re really trying hard to say the right thing, aren’t you, honey?’ She ruffled his hair on her way to the fridge.
She was treating Luke as if he were her big brother and it made him feel odd. As if there were an empty space deep inside him. A space where he really wanted to be part of a big family.
Which was ridiculous. He was perfectly fine on his own. Much, much better than he had been as part of a family. Been there, done that, no intention of taking a backward step. ‘I’m only being nice because you’re cooking and I want to be fed,’ he retorted.
She laughed even more. ‘Don’t give me that. I know you’re just a pussycat.’
Karim was laughing, too; he’d scooped his wife onto his lap and he had both hands resting protectively round her abdomen.
Luke joined in the fun. ‘For you, Lily, I could be.’ Then he grinned. ‘But unfortunately you have a husband who might not be too happy about that, so I’ll settle for being fed.’
‘Your wish is my command,’ Lily teased back. ‘So what’s wrong? Your secretary’s got morning sickness?’
‘And lunchtime sickness. And afternoon sickness. My office is a mess, she hasn’t been there to do a proper handover to the temps—when they turn up, that is—and neither have I, and…’ He broke off and shook his head in exasperation. ‘I’ve had enough of the chaos. I’ve sent Di home for the rest of her pregnancy.’
Lily looked worried. ‘Luke, I don’t mean to interfere, but…is that legal?’
Luke knew exactly what she wasn’t asking. ‘Don’t worry, Lily,’ he said dryly. ‘She’s on full pay and her job’s open until she decides what she wants to do. But right now she’s not capable of doing her job properly and it’s unfair to expect her to keep up with me when she’s feeling so rough. And I need someone who can sort this mess out before I lose any more opportunities.’
‘Someone who’s a good organiser.’ Lily looked thoughtful. ‘I might just be able to help you out there. My favourite supplier, Louisa—her sister’s a freelance office troubleshooter.’
‘A what?’ Luke asked.
‘Organised, efficient, and good at sorting things out. You know those reality TV programmes about people who come to your house and make you sort out your clutter? Well, that’s apparently what Sara does in real life. Except in an office. And she does the sorting out for you.’
If the woman was no good, Lily wouldn’t have mentioned her. Luke knew that Lily realised the importance of business networking—that your recommendations reflected on you. And this sounded like the solution he needed. ‘Do you have her number?’
‘No, but I’ve got her sister’s, which is the next best thing.’ Lily disappeared for a couple of minutes, then returned with a card. ‘Here.’
Luke read the card. ‘Fleet Organics.’
‘They do apple juice, apple balsamic vinegar and—well, everything else you’d expect from an organic orchard,’ Lily explained. ‘Ask for Louisa, tell her I gave you the number and say that you need to talk to Sara.’
‘Thanks.’ He slid the card into his wallet. ‘And if this troubleshooting woman’s that good…’
‘She might be busy,’ Lily warned.
‘Hmm, that’s what someone told Karim about you. But he still charmed you into cooking for him,’ Luke reminded her with a grin. ‘I’ll call her. See what she can do for me. Thanks for the tip.’
Lily checked something in the oven. ‘OK, it’s done. Go through to the dining room, you two.’
Karim and Luke did her bidding.
Luke took a first mouthful of the food. ‘Lily, this is wonderful. If you ever decide you’re bored with being a princess, you can come and be my housekeeper.’
‘She won’t be bored,’ Karim informed him. ‘Find your own princess.’
‘I’m not a prince,’ Luke countered. ‘And I don’t need a princess.’ What he wanted was a good assistant at work, a part-time housekeeper who would sort things while he was out and wouldn’t nag him about being a slob, and a string of girlfriends who wanted to have fun and accepted the fact that he wasn’t looking for anything permanent.
Apart from the assistant problem—which, hopefully, this office troubleshooter would help him fix—that was exactly how his life was, at that moment.
And it suited him just fine.
CHAPTER ONE
SARA checked the address in her diary. Yes, this was the place. A former warehouse converted to a mixed-use residential, office and retail block, all sparkling clean brick and lots of glass. The ground floor was full of bijou shops and coffee bars—she made a mental note to check them out later, and drop in some of the family business cards—and she guessed that the top two floors were offices. It looked as if the architect had taken advantage of a partially collapsed roof at one end and had put up a tower with one wall of sheer glass—though it had been sympathetically done and looked in keeping with the building. That, she guessed, was the residential part of the building; the rooms on the side with the glass wall would have stunning views of the Thames.
You’d need a small fortune to be able to afford that sort of flat. But, hey, she was fine with the room she’d begged in her oldest brother’s flat. Just because she didn’t have a place of her own, it didn’t mean she was a failure. She had a family who loved her as much as she loved them, a great social life and a job she enjoyed. She didn’t need anything else.
She took the stairs to the first floor, where a receptionist sat behind a light wood desk.
‘Can I help you?’
‘I have an appointment to see Luke Holloway. Sara Fleet,’ she said.
‘Through the corridor, last door on the right,’ the receptionist said with a smile.
Luke Holloway. He’d sounded crisp on the phone, the kind of man who knew what he wanted and didn’t waste time. Which made it all the more surprising that he needed an office troubleshooter. She usually dealt with people who stuffed things into drawers and scribbled things on sticky notes which they promptly lost and didn’t have a clue what a filing system or diary was—and Luke hadn’t given her that impression when he’d asked her to meet him at his office. So what kind of man was he?
Well, she was about to find out for herself.
The last door on the right was closed. She knocked and waited.
‘Come in.’ The voice sounded slightly harassed.
She’d been expecting someone in a sharp suit and handmade shoes; the man leaning back in a chair, talking on the phone with his feet on the desk, looked more like a rock star. He was wearing a black round-necked sweater that she guessed was cashmere, teamed with black trousers, and his short dark hair was expensively tousled—the kind of haircut that made him look as if he’d just got out of bed. Teamed with eyes the colour of cornflowers and the most sensual mouth she’d ever seen, it was enough to make Sara’s libido sit up and beg.
Though she knew better than to mix business and pleasure. This man was her client. Well, potential client. They’d agreed to meet today and discuss the situation; she’d learned in the past that someone might sound reasonable enough on the phone, but in person they were a nightmare to work with, so it was easier to discuss things face to face. Particularly as she prided herself on her ability to judge people quickly yet fairly: in business, she’d never once been wrong.
Personally… Well, now wasn’t the time to start brooding over that.
He put his hand over the receiver. ‘Are you Sara?’ he asked quietly.
She nodded.
‘Good. I’m Luke. Sorry about this. I’ll be with you in two minutes—take a seat or a look round the office, whichever you prefer.’
And he was as good as his word; he’d wrapped up the call before she’d had time to absorb more than the fact there were two desks in the room, both with state-of-the-art computers and completely clear work surfaces, and a bank of filing cabinets. The view from the office window over the river was stunning; she could see ships sailing down the Thames, and on a sunny day like this the water sparkled.
‘Right—I’m all yours,’ he said.
The thoughts that put in her head… Very, very unprofessional thoughts. Thoughts of him lying naked on crisp cotton sheets that were just about to get seriously rumpled.
Sara pushed the idea away and really hoped that her face hadn’t turned as red and hot as it felt. What the hell was wrong with her? She never, but never, started fantasising about her clients. Even the good-looking ones.
Though Luke Holloway was a little more than good-looking. He was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. The sort whose smile would make any woman’s heart feel as if it had just done a somersault.
‘Can I get you a coffee?’ he asked.
‘Thanks. That’d be nice.’ Though what she really needed was a cold shower.
‘Bathroom’s over there, if you need it.’ Luke indicated the door in the far corner.
Oh, no. Please don’t let her have said that thing about cold showers out loud. Then her common sense kicked in. Obviously he meant if she needed the loo. ‘Thanks, I’m fine.’
He opened another door to a small galley kitchen. ‘Milk, sugar?’
‘Just milk, please.’
He added milk to one cup and sugar to another, then took a tin from the cupboard and removed the lid. ‘Help yourself.’
Extremely posh chocolate biscuits.
Clearly her amusement must have shown on her face because he laughed. ‘My only vice. Well, almost.’
She caught the gleam in his eyes and could guess the other one. It dovetailed with the thoughts she’d had when he’d told her he was all hers. And it made her mouth go suddenly dry. She had to make a real effort to force her mind back to business. He wanted a troubleshooter, not a lover.
She wasn’t in the market for a lover in any case. She liked her life as it was. Happy and single. Uncomplicated.
‘So what makes you think I can help you?’ she asked.
‘You come highly recommended,’ he said simply.
‘So,’ she countered, ‘do you.’
He inclined his head, acknowledging the compliment. ‘Lily warned me that you might be busy.’
‘Usually, I am.’ She shrugged. ‘I’d planned to take the summer off to do a bit of travelling. Spend a month in Italy or Greece.’
‘Good food, decent weather and plenty of sandy beaches?’
‘Plenty of ruins,’ she corrected. A beach holiday, sitting still and doing nothing, was her idea of boredom. She liked exploring. ‘It’s one of the perks of being self-employed—I can choose when I want to take a holiday.’
He handed her a mug of coffee, then picked up his own mug and the tin of biscuits and ushered her back into the office. ‘Most self-employed people have to be forced to take time off.’
Was he talking about himself? She looked straight at him. ‘It’s important to take time off. If you don’t refill the well, you end up with burnout and you’re no good to anyone. Good time management helps a lot.’
He didn’t look convinced, but at least he didn’t try to argue with her. Which was good. After Hugh, Sara had had enough of workaholic men. Ha. After Hugh, Sara had had enough of men, full stop. She kept her relationships light, flirty—and absolutely not committed.
‘My office isn’t usually this disorganised,’ he said, shepherding her back into the main room and indicating a chair.
‘Disorganised?’ The place was spotless. Unless she was missing something huge.
‘As I said on the phone, my personal assistant’s pregnant and she’s been off sick a lot. I’ve had temps in, but Di—that’s my assistant—hasn’t been able to brief them properly, and I haven’t been here enough to do it myself.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Today’s temp didn’t even bother turning up. I was talking to the agency when you came in, asking them what had happened.’
Sara couldn’t resist the impulse to tease him. ‘Are you telling me you’re so scary that the temps have got your name on a blacklist and refuse to come and work for you?’
‘I’m not scary in the slightest. I just expect a fair day’s work for a fair day’s pay. And if you can’t do basic things like answering the phone politely and taking a proper message, then you shouldn’t take a job as a PA.’ He raked a hand through his hair. ‘Actually, one of the temps was excellent, but when I asked if I could have her back for a long-term assignment, the agency said she’d already been given a placing somewhere else and wasn’t available.’ He propped his elbows on the desk and rested his chin on his hands. ‘Which leaves me in a mess. I need someone to go through all the filing and put my office back into the order I’m used to, and to keep this office ticking over until Di decides whether she wants to come back after she’s had the baby.’
‘I can do the first bit,’ Sara said, ‘but I do short-term assignments only. Maternity cover—that’s way too long a time for me.’
‘Understood.’
‘So how much filing are we talking about? Because, unless I’m going mad, I can’t see any filing at all.’
Luke walked over to the other desk and removed a large cardboard box from underneath it. It was full of papers, stuffed in haphazardly. ‘This,’ he said. ‘I know, I know. Do the filing daily and it’s a small job. Leave it, and the next thing you know it’s overwhelming. But Di felt too rough to do it. She knows I hate clutter, so she put it all into this box out of the way, meaning to do it later.’
‘Except now she’s not here, and your temps have consistently ignored it.’
‘Exactly. And Di usually weeds the files. My guess is she hasn’t done that for a while, either.’
‘So would I get carte blanche to reorganise your filing system?’
‘If it’s a genuine time-saver, yes; if you’re trying to justify your bill, no.’
She liked the fact that Luke Holloway was this blunt. It meant she’d know exactly where she stood with him. No pussyfooting around, no hiding behind a façade of being a polite, bumbling upper-class Englishman, the way that Hugh had.
Not that Luke could pretend to be upper-class. Not with that accent.
‘So what exactly is it you do?’ she asked.
‘Are you telling me you didn’t look me up on the Internet?’
She flushed. Of course she had. ‘It didn’t tell me very much. You’re twenty-eight and a self-made millionaire.’ And his girlfriends were all the model type—tall, long legs, exotic looks and impossibly shiny dark hair. He dated a lot, was on the guest list at the best parties and changed his girlfriend frequently. Extremely frequently. ‘But newspaper stories and online gossip columns aren’t always accurate.’
‘It didn’t tell me much about you, either. Apart from the fact that you don’t have your own website.’
So he’d looked her up, too?
Well, of course he had. Even if she’d come recommended. Luke was the kind of man who’d pay attention to detail. ‘I don’t need a website. My clients come from word of mouth.’
‘Which is the best form of advertising. It’s accurate and it can’t be bought.’
How come they were discussing her business? She was meant to be finding out about his. ‘You still haven’t answered my question,’ she pointed out.
‘I buy and sell businesses.’
She blinked. ‘You’re an asset stripper?’ No way was she going to work for someone like that. Even if he did come highly recommended, and had the sexiest mouth she’d ever seen. She had standards. Standards that, post-Hugh, she wasn’t going to compromise.
‘No. I get bored easily and I like a challenge.’ He shrugged. ‘So I buy failing businesses and turn them into going concerns. And, once they’re back on their feet, I normally manage to arrange a management buyout.’
So the people who put the work in with him to sort out the company reaped the rewards. A man with a conscience, then.
The complete opposite of Hugh.
Not that she was going to think about Hugh the Betrayer.
‘I’m good at solving problems.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Usually. This is the exception that proves the rule.’
‘What sort of businesses?’
‘Sport and leisure. Gyms, health clubs, spas…and I’m thinking about expanding a bit.’
‘And you do all this on your own?’
‘With a good PA. And decent managers in each business who are savvy enough to talk to me well before something becomes a major problem—and who come to me with solutions rather than expecting me to sort it all out.’
Luke liked the way Sara Fleet questioned him. The way she cut right to the nub of the problem. He could work with her.
