Millionaire Boss

At the sound of her leaving, he glanced up. “Hey! Where do you think you’re going?”

“For a walk,” she replied, trying her best to keep the tears from her voice.

“But we’ve got that black-tie thingamajig at seven.”

“I’ll be back before then,” she promised, then quickly closed the door behind her before he saw her tears and knew how much his tactless—if accurate—description of her had hurt.

Penny walked down the street, her chin bumping dejectedly against her chest, her gaze on the blurred tips of her black pumps. She wanted to despise Erik for the cruel things he’d said about her but found she couldn’t. Not when he was right. She was frumpy. And she feared she wasn’t much fun, either.

But how could she be fun, she cried in silent frustration, or even know what it was, when she’d never been allowed to have any while growing up? After their parents’ death, Jase had assumed guardianship of her, and if Erik thought Penny didn’t know what fun was, then he should meet her brother, Jase, the epitome of the glowering wielder of the proverbial whip.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth, feeling a stab of guilt for her less-than-charitable thoughts toward a brother who had sacrificed so much for her. Life hadn’t exactly been kind to either of them, she reflected sadly. Their parents’ death had forced Jase to drop out of college and return home to take care of Penny and run the family ranch. And ranch life left little time for fun. Penny knew, because for years she’d worked right alongside her brother.

And when her friends had gone off to college to kick up their heels and spread their wings a little, Penny had remained at home, commuting from their ranch to Austin each day to take courses at the University of Texas. And with Jase, by that time, saddled with the responsibilities of his own growing family, Penny had felt obligated to help finance her education by typing term papers for other students and offering tutoring on the side. Between the long commute, a full load of classes each semester, evenings spent with her head buried in books and whatever hours left over in the day filled with typing term papers or tutoring some unmotivated jock, pitifully few hours remained in which to make new friends or pursue a social life.

No, she thought miserably as she dragged her feet to a stop before a shop’s window display. Penny Rawley wouldn’t know fun if it were to bite her square in the butt, just as Erik had suggested.

Fearing she would cry again if she allowed herself to think about the upsetting conversation any longer, she forced herself to focus on the items displayed in the window. Skimpy sundresses in varying shades of the rainbow draped headless mannequins with hourglass figures, while cropped tank tops danced from invisible strings above coordinating shorts that looked barely long enough to cover a woman’s behind.

And superimposed over it all was Penny’s reflection.

Slowly she focused on it. The sensible bun. The tailored blouse with its crisp bow tied neatly beneath her chin. The utilitarian suit jacket that hung loosely at her hips, hiding a figure that Penny wasn’t even sure existed any more. The A-line skirt, its hem brushing modestly at her knees. She couldn’t see any farther…but she didn’t need to see more of her reflection to realize that frump fit her to a T.

Sickened by the reminder that Erik was right to label her a frump, she started to turn away but stopped and slowly turned back around. But she didn’t have to be a frump, she told herself as she stared at her reflection. She could change. There was no reason she couldn’t dress differently. Granted, she’d never bothered to stay abreast of current fashion trends. Had no need, not when her wardrobe was dictated by what was serviceable for ranch and housework. But that’s what sales clerks were for, right? It was their job to stay on top of what was hot and what was not in the fashion industry. Surely she could trust one of them to help her make a few selections.

Remembering the black-tie affair that Erik expected her to attend with him at seven and the floral dress she’d brought to wear, she glanced at her watch. Two hours. She had two hours in which to recreate herself.

Oh, Lord, she prayed silently, please let it be long enough to create a miracle.

Three

Penny knew she was late and that Erik would probably be furious with her. But she didn’t care. She was too high, too pumped with excitement to care about anything, other than her new look.

Burdened with her purchases, she fumbled the card key for their hotel suite into the slot, pushed the toe of her shoe against the door, then hurried inside. “Mr. Thompson?” she called. “I’m back.”

When she didn’t hear a response, she headed straight for her bedroom, wincing when she saw a piece of paper taped to the door. After dumping her purchases on her bed, she removed the note and read: “Where the hell are you? Main ballroom. Now.”

He hadn’t even bothered signing his name.

Refusing to let his curt note rob her of her good mood, she tossed the paper over her shoulder and dived gleefully into the pile of purchases she’d dumped on the bed. Finding the clothing bag that covered her new dress, she held it up high…and her smile slowly faded.

I can’t do this, she cried silently, panicking. There’s no way in the world I can possibly wear in public a dress made from scarcely more fabric than that of a man’s oversize handkerchief.

Oh, yes, you can, a voice insisted—a voice that sounded suspiciously like her friend Suzy’s. And you’re going to make Erik Thompson’s eyes pop right out of his head.

Clutching the dress to her breasts, Penny headed for the bathroom, repeating under her breath a phrase from the story “The Little Engine that Could,” which her niece Rachel loved Penny to read.

“I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.”

Erik tipped back his head and drained the champagne from the glass, then plunked it down on the tray of a passing waiter. He glanced toward the ballroom’s entrance for about the zillionth time since entering the room and swore under his breath when he still didn’t see a sign of his missing secretary. Scowling, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo slacks and headed for the buffet table.

“Hey, Erik!”

Balancing a plate on his palm, Erik glanced over his shoulder and saw his old friend Buzz Kenney bearing down on him. Relieved to find a familiar face among a sea of strangers, he plucked another skewer of grilled shrimp from the tray. He used his teeth to drag one off its end, before dropping the skewer to his plate and turning to greet his friend. “How’s it going, Buzz?”

“Can’t complain.” Buzz slapped a bear-like hand against Erik’s back. “How ’bout you?”

Erik’s eyes bugged as the force of Buzz’s greeting made the shrimp he’d just swallowed hang in his throat. He gulped, swallowed hard, forcing it down, then slipped a finger behind his shirt’s starched collar and craned his neck. “Fine,” he croaked, “until you came along.”

Buzz tossed his head back and boomed a laugh. “You always were a bit on the puny side.”

Erik shot his friend a frown. “And you were always an overgrown bully.”

“Now, Erik,” Buzz chided. “Surely by now you’ve forgiven me for shoving you buck naked into the girl’s locker room when we were in junior high?”

“Oh, I’ve forgiven you all right,” Erik replied dryly. “I just haven’t forgotten the incident. Nor will I.”

Chuckling, Buzz draped a companionable arm along Erik’s shoulders and turned to survey the room. “Mmm-mmm. Have you ever seen so many gorgeous babes gathered under one roof?”

Erik chose a bacon-wrapped mushroom from his plate and popped it into his mouth, not bothering to look up. “Yeah. One too many times.”

Buzz clasped a hand over his heart. “Oh, man. Don’t tell me the great Erik Thompson has lost his appetite for beautiful women?”

Erik lifted an indifferent shoulder. “If you’ve tasted one, you’ve tasted ’em all.”

“Then you haven’t been samplin’ from the same buffets I’ve been feedin’ from.” He dug an elbow into Erik’s ribs, then boomed another laugh when the dig sent Erik staggering sideways a step.

Frowning, Erik rubbed a hand over a rib he was sure would be sore the next day. “Why don’t you go beat up on somebody else for a while?”

“And leave you all alone?” Grinning, Buzz folded his arms across his chest and rocked back on his heels, trolling the room with his gaze again. “Caught that pesky hacker yet that’s been givin’ you grief?”

Irritated by the reminder, Erik plucked a filled champagne glass from the tray of a passing waiter. “No.” He tossed back half the bubbly liquid.

“Boy Wonder, isn’t it?” Buzz asked, angling his head to look at Erik for confirmation.

“Boy Worrywart, would be more like it. The guy’s becoming a royal pain in the ass, ducking in and out of systems, nosing around where he hasn’t any business.”

Buzz arched a thick brow, leveling a pointed look at Erik. “Sounds like a kid I used to know.”

In spite of the years that separated him from his crimes, Erik felt the heat crawl up his neck. “Yeah, but I was just a kid. Didn’t know any better.”

“Maybe Boy Wonder’s just a kid, too. His name suggests he might be.”

Erik’s frown deepened. “No kid is that good.”

“You ought to know,” Buzz replied, and turned his gaze back to the room. “You were the best.” He puckered his lips in a silent whistle. “Whooee. Would you look at that?” He gave the points of his bow tie a gleeful tug. “Ultimate babe at three o’clock.”

Erik rolled his eyes, amazed that a man Buzz’s age still reverted to locker-room lingo when confronted with a good-looking woman. “Are your hormones always on red alert?”

Buzz grinned as he headed toward the redhead who had caught his eye. “Wouldn’t want ’em any other way.”

In spite of himself, Erik found himself chuckling as he watched Buzz move in for the kill. He pitied the poor woman his buddy had zeroed in on. The woman didn’t know it yet, but she didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of resisting Buzz’s killer charm. The man had more moves than a Ryder truck and more come-on lines than a drunk in a bar at closing time. Erik knew because he’d seen the man in action more times than he cared to remember.

Shaking his head, he started to turn for a second helping from the generous spread of hors d’oeuvres, but spun back, every muscle in his body tensed in denial.

No, he told himself as he stared at the woman smiling shyly up at Buzz. It couldn’t be. He took a step toward the couple, but stopped, sure that he was wrong.

No, he told himself again. The hair color was right, but the style was all wrong. Mouse wore her hair twisted up in a tight, spinsterish bun, not swinging at shoulder length and mussed as if she’d gone a fast round in bed with an overly zealous lover. And there was no way in hell that woman’s body could possibly belong to his secretary. Not that he had a clue what his secretary’s figure looked like. Not when he’d seen her in nothing but those stupid, sexless suits favored by so many executive-type women.

In spite of his doubts, he found himself taking another step toward the couple. Then another. And another until he’d reached Buzz’s side. He slapped a hand against his friend’s back. “Hey, Buzz,” he said, turning on a killer smile that he knew from experience most women found hard to resist. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

“And chance losing her to a smooth talker like you? Man, I’m not that—”

Whatever else Buzz had to say on the subject was lost to Erik as the woman turned to fully face him. “Damn,” he gasped weakly, bracing a hand against Buzz’s arm for support as he found himself staring into all-too-familiar green eyes. He dragged his gaze from her face and down her front, nearly choking when he encountered the mounds of creamy flesh that the bustier-style bodice pushed above the dress’s heart-shaped neckline. “Penny?” he asked, forcing his gaze back to her face. “Is that you?”

Though her smile remained in place, he saw the uncertainty in her eyes, recognized the level of nerves in the tremble of the fingers she smoothed down her thighs—thighs that the dress’s brief hemline barely covered.

“Yes,” she said, then caught her lower lip between her teeth and dropped her gaze, nearly making him groan at the provocativeness in the demure gesture. “I’m sorry I’m late,” she murmured. “I was…detained.” She peeked up at him through a web of lashes. “You aren’t upset with me, are you?”

“Upset?” he repeated, when upset was much too mild a word to use to describe his earlier dark mood. “No,” he lied. “I was just worried that you’d gotten lost or that something might have happened to you.”

She laid a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry to have worried you,” she said with a contriteness that he would expect from the Penny he’d gotten to know over the last twenty-four hours. But he wasn’t sure he knew who this new Penny was…or if he even liked the change.

He frowned, eyeing her suspiciously. “What’d you do to your hair?”

She caught a lock between her fingers and twisted self-consciously. “I had it cut this afternoon. Do you like it?”

He deepened his frown. “It’s all right…I guess.”

Her disappointment was instantaneous and blatantly obvious, even to a man as self-possessed as people claimed Erik to be.

Buzz stepped between the two. “I like your new hairstyle just fine,” he assured Penny, then gallantly offered her his arm. “Now how ’bout that dance you promised me?”

Penny looked up at Buzz, her hesitancy to accept his invitation evident in her wide, green eyes. She glanced at Erik, then quickly away, and forced a smile as she slipped her arm through Buzz’s. “I’d love to.”

Erik stood where they had left him, watching the man he’d once considered his oldest and closest friend steer his secretary toward the dance floor. When they reached the area and Penny stepped into Buzz’s arms, Erik whirled for the bar, muttering curses under his breath about playboys and innocent lambs being led to the slaughter.

It was well after midnight when Erik unlocked the door to their hotel suite and gestured impatiently for Penny to enter before him.

Her cheeks flushed with excitement, she swept past him on ridiculously high heels, trailing a provocative scent that had Erik lifting his nose and sniffing the air, in spite of his current disgust with his secretary.

She tossed a glittery purse the size of a small envelope onto the sofa, then spun, her hand clasped beneath her chin. “Wasn’t that the most wonderful party!”

Disgusted by her exuberance—as well as by her behavior for the last couple of hours—Erik shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket and threw it toward the sofa. It landed on the floor about two feet shy of his mark. “It was all right,” he muttered.

“All right?” she repeated, then laughed gaily and flung her arms wide. “I can’t remember when I’ve had such a marvelous time. The orchestra was absolutely divine, and your friend, Buzz, such a skillful dancer. I’ve never swing danced before, but he was so patient with me, so kind to offer instruction.”

Erik cut a glance at her, then frowned as he emptied the contents of his pockets onto the bar, resenting her good mood, but unsure why. “We’re here to work,” he reminded her. “Best you remember that.”

Her eyes widened in alarm. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten.” She quickly stooped to scoop his jacket from the floor, then straightened, holding it against her chest as she smoothed the wrinkles from it.

But not before Erik had gotten another good look at the luscious mounds threatening to spill over the top of her dress.

He tore his gaze from the tempting sight and ducked behind the bar, suddenly finding himself in dire need of a drink. Selecting a miniature bottle of bourbon, he dumped its contents into a glass, started to add water, then decided against it and tossed the drink back, neat. He inhaled sharply as the bourbon hit the back of his throat, gulped it down, then hissed a breath as the liquor burned a path all the way to his stomach.

He glanced over to find Penny staring at him in horror.

“What?” he snapped impatiently.

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