From Boss to Bridegroom

Still, though, she knew she should decline the offer. Despite the fact that Sadie was baby-sitting and had long since put Max to bed, Lucy knew she should go home.

But she was hungry.

And Max would be asleep and wouldn’t know the difference if she were gone another hour.

“What do you say?” Rand urged when she hadn’t answered immediately.

“Nothing fancy?” she heard herself ask right in the middle of giving herself reasons why it wasn’t a good idea to fraternize with the boss.

“It’s a diner. Definitely nothing fancy. And if you think I can protect you out on the mean streets of Washington, we can walk there, eat and then call for the car so we don’t interrupt whatever sporting event Frank’s watching while he waits for us to page him.”

Frank was Rand’s driver and was apparently on-call. Lucy thought it was yet another surprise to find Rand considerate of the other man. And as for trusting that Rand could protect her on a late-night walk anywhere, it only took one look at the size of him, at the confidence in his comportment, to judge the notion of not being safe with him a joke.

“A walk would be good,” she agreed. “I could use the fresh air.”

“Let’s do it, then.”

Within minutes they were down the elevator and out in the cold, crisp evening.

“This way,” Rand said with a nod to his right as he pulled on leather gloves the same charcoal color as the knee-length camel hair overcoat he wore.

Lucy had buttoned up her own black wool overcoat and also took gloves from her pockets as they headed off down the street that was still alive with people and traffic.

Neither Lucy nor Rand said much along the way. Lucy could only assume that he was doing the same thing she was doing—winding down.

The diner around the corner was just a hole-in-the-wall on the bottom floor of the office building abutting Rand’s. It had booths around the perimeter and counter-seating behind which was a cut-out in the wall that opened to the kitchen where orders and plates were exchanged.

The restaurant was about half-full and Rand led the way to a vacant booth.

“Workin’ late tonight are ya, counselor?” the waitress called to them from behind the cash register a split second after they sat down.

She was an older woman with her hair cut in a man’s crew cut and a large black mole below her left eye. Lucy noticed as she approached their table that she was dressed in the classic Liberty-green waitress dress, white apron and white nurse’s shoes that might have come right out of a diner from the 1950s.

Rand answered her greeting as if they were well-acquainted and ordered two Blue Plate Specials before so much as consulting Lucy.

When the waitress left he said, “The Blue Plate is pot roast, potatoes, salad and rolls. At this time of night you don’t want anything off the grill. It hasn’t been cleaned since dawn and the food that comes off it is pretty bad. I should have warned you before we got here but since I didn’t I couldn’t do it in front of Gail. She’s part-owner and would have been insulted.”

The offense Lucy had taken at not being asked what she wanted to eat abated with that explanation. She could hardly fault him for looking out for both her palate and the waitress’s feelings. So she decided to just go with the flow rather than make an issue of Rand Colton’s high-handedness.

Gail returned with water and asked if they wanted coffee.

This time Rand raised his eyebrows at Lucy, waiting for her to answer for herself.

“I’ll have herbal tea.”

“I’ll have iced tea,” Rand added.

They’d settled their coats and gloves on the booth seats beside them and so there they were, face-to-face, with nothing to distract them. And although the view was grand since Rand looked every bit as terrific as he had to start the day, it was unnerving to have those penetrating eyes of his studying her as if she were a painting on a museum wall.

“How did you get from California to Washington D.C.?” Lucy asked just to get the conversational ball rolling.

“I was here a couple of times as a kid. To visit my father. He was a Senator when I was pretty young and my mother brought us here to see him. It was so exciting it stuck with me. Then I spent the summer after my first year of law school here, interning at a think tank, which basically means I spent twelve hours a day, six days a week, researching arcane case law for one of the resident thinkers. I still found the city exciting, though, and since it seemed like a good place to make my mark, after I graduated I decided to put out my shingle here.”

“Is your family still in California?”

He raised the chiseled chin that had been freshly shaved during Lucy’s bathroom break to call home. “Hacienda del Alegria—that’s the old homestead in Prosperino. My folks and an assortment of siblings and almost-siblings are still there, yes.”

“Siblings and almost-siblings?”

“My family has a colorful history when it comes to kids. There were six biological kids and a slew of adopted and foster kids my parents took in over the years.”

“Really?” That was interesting, especially given Rand’s stand against his secretary having children. It had left Lucy with the impression that he might not like kids, that maybe he’d been an only child himself.

“Did you resent your parents taking in foster children?” she asked as their meals were served, thinking that maybe resentment had turned him sour on the subject.

“Did I resent it?” he repeated as he liberally salted his food. “No, why would you think that?”

Lucy tasted a small bite of the pot roast, judged it more than edible, and then said, “You’re so against single mothers as secretaries.”

“Just because it interferes with work. I like kids well enough and I certainly never resented my folks giving a home to foster kids.”

“How did your parents start that? Had they done it before having a family of their own and just kept it up afterward? Or had they already had all of you and still wanted more?” she asked then, as they both settled into eating.

“It didn’t start until after they had five of us. When I was thirteen one of my brothers, Michael, was killed by a drunk driver while he and the other twin, Drake, were out riding their bicycles. It was a rough time after that. My father in particular went into a deep depression. My mother got the idea of taking in kids without homes when my dad confided some things about his own growing-up years. The suggestion struck a chord in him. In fact, it was sort of a turning point for him. He realized that family was the most important thing to him and decided to give up politics and focus on his home life. Since then they’ve become pretty well-known for taking in stray kids. In ‘91 someone even left a baby on their doorstep.”

“Wow. They must be great parents.”

“I’d say they’re pretty normal. They had their strong points and their weak points like most parents. Not that I’m complaining. I had a terrific childhood. But I hated it when my dad was here and we were all in California. It was lousy having an absentee parent. Maybe that’s part of the single-mother-secretary thing. When you have kids, you need to be able to be there for them. The way I work makes that impossible, which is why I don’t have kids myself and why it’s important that my secretary not have them either. Something has to give and I believe when you’re a parent, that ultimately has to come first.”

“So no parents for secretaries,” Lucy summed up.

“In my office, anyway. I’m devoted to my work and I need my secretary to—”

“Be devoted to you.”

“I was going to say that I need my secretary to be as dedicated as I am.”

“To the exclusion of his or her own life.”

Rand had the good grace to laugh and flinch at once. “You’re really hard on me.”

“Not as hard as you are in your demands of a secretary. I guess you can dish it out but you can’t take it.”

He eyed her with a combination of amusement and wariness as he flipped open his cell phone and paged his driver to tell him where they could be picked up since they’d both finished their meals.

Then, without skipping a beat, he said, “I just think people need to prioritize. If you have kids, you need to accommodate them, arrange your life around them and avoid demanding jobs. If you have a demanding job—”

“Or boss.”

“Or boss. You shouldn’t have kids because they get shortchanged.”

“Is everything so black and white for you?”

“Not everything. But this is.”

“So no kids for your secretary and no kids for you.”

“Exactly.”

“Ever?” Lucy asked as Rand tossed two twenty-dollar bills onto the table without having seen the check.

“I don’t know. I’m not sure I could ever do what it takes to be a father. Maybe someday. But a far-off someday. Like when I retire.”

“Retire? You want to have kids after you retire?” Lucy said, laughing at the notion as they both put on their coats.

“I plan to retire fairly young.”

“Not young enough to wait until then to have kids, I’ll bet.”

“What makes you think so?”

“You’re crazed. You won’t be able to even slow down anytime soon, let alone retire.”

“Then I guess it’s no kids for me.”

“Seems like a shame,” Lucy observed as she got into the back seat of the Town Car when it pulled up outside the diner.

“Why is that?”

“From the way you talk I can tell family is important to you.” That made him all the more appealing, something Lucy didn’t want to acknowledge to herself.

“Family is important to me. That’s the point. If you have a family, they have to be the most important thing in your life.”

“And instead your job fills the bill?”

“Completely.”

“Your job can’t curl up on your lap to read Dr. Seuss or melt your heart with a smile or tie your shoes when you’re too old to do it yourself.”

“I like my job,” he defended.

“Enough to exclude everything else?”

He smiled the most wicked smile she’d ever seen. “It excludes kids. No one said it excluded everything else,” he said with a tone full of innuendo.

Lucy rolled her eyes. “I give up.” Although in truth it wasn’t their arguing she was so willing to throw in the towel on. It was that the innuendo was too scintillating to be safe for her any longer. Especially when that wicked grin had an incredibly heady effect on her.

“And here you were holding your own so well,” he said as if he were disappointed that she wasn’t continuing to challenge him.

Somehow when Lucy had gotten into the car she hadn’t slid completely to the opposite end of the seat. And somehow when Rand had followed her in, he’d slid a little more toward the center than he’d needed to. Lucy hadn’t noticed it before, but now she realized that they were only separated by about six inches. Plus Rand was turned at a slight angle and had his arm stretched across the seat back so near to her she became aware of his coat sleeve brushing her nape.

It all worked together to allow him to look directly at her. To study her with a warmth in his eyes that made her want to take off her coat.

Then he said, “Tell your aunt thanks for me.”

“For what? Providing an adequate sparring partner?”

He laughed lightly. “Well, for that—I always enjoy a good debate. But also for sending me the best secretary I’ve had since she left.”

It flashed through Lucy’s mind to say he hadn’t had her, but she caught herself before she uttered the words.

What was she doing? she asked herself. Was she really on the verge of flirting with him? Was one long workday and a Blue Plate Special all it took to drop her guard?

But it wasn’t easy keeping her guard up when the man only inches from her was so astonishingly handsome, so charming, so stimulating, so sexy.

And it didn’t help matters that there he was, searching her face as if he’d just made some discovery in her that he could hardly believe himself, his expression full of admiration, of appreciation for more than a job well-done. For something that appeared far more personal. Far more flattering.

Then his eyes honed in on hers, delving into them, making her feel even hotter still and suddenly causing her to think about kissing. About him kissing her. About her kissing him back…

It would be a mistake, she told herself sternly. A huge mistake.

Yet her mouth went dry with the very notion. Her mind raced with curiosity about how those wonderful male lips would feel pressed to hers. Would they be parted? Would his tongue tease her lips into parting, too? What would he taste like? Would his mouth, his tongue, be as agile as his mind? As forceful as his personality? As powerful as his sex appeal?

Where would he put his hands? Those big, adept, blunt-fingered hands she’d been mesmerized by all day and evening. Would they be warm? Tender or strong?

Would she forget everything in one perfect moment of bliss that would make everything right with the world? One brief, perfect moment she could lose herself in the way she hadn’t in so, so long?

Or would it be more than one moment? Would it go on and on until her lips were numb and every ounce of her was alive with wanting…?

Lucy realized suddenly that she’d actually leaned forward. Just a hair. But maybe enough to be sending a signal that relayed what was going through her mind. A signal she knew better than to give.

She sat up straighter. She leaned back ever so slightly but enough to overcompensate if she actually had leaned forward in anticipation of being kissed.

“So, what time on Monday?” she blurted out, her effort to sound businesslike sounding abrasive to her own ears.

But all Rand Colton did was smile. A small, secret smile that made her think he knew exactly what had gone through her mind. Knew exactly what she was fighting. Knew exactly what his impact on her entailed.

“I think we’ve earned a later start. I’ll pick you up at eight instead of seven-thirty.”

The car came to a stop at the curb in front of her house just then and Lucy silently thanked the fates for that bit of mercy.

She opened the door before the driver could put the car in park and do it for her. “Monday at eight,” she repeated much too brightly.

“Lucy?” Rand said to stall her escape.

“Hmm?” she responded over her shoulder, one foot already on the sidewalk outside.

“Thanks for today and tonight. If you’d consider taking the job on a permanent basis, it’d be yours.”

The job.

So he hadn’t lost sight for even a moment of the fact that they were boss and secretary. Only she had.

“No thanks,” she said curtly. “In fact I’ll see if I can’t light a fire under that employment agency Monday to arrange some interviews right away.” Before the fire he seemed to have unwittingly and without effort lit inside her singed her for real.

“Good night,” she said then, getting completely out of the car. “Thanks for dinner.”

He acknowledged her gratitude with another lift of his chin before he said, “See you Monday.”

Lucy fled the car, leaving the door to be closed by Frank and fighting the impression that there had been some sort of promise in Rand’s parting “See you Monday.”

It was only her imagination, she told herself. Just as all those thoughts of him kissing her had only been in her imagination.

And as she let herself into her town house she couldn’t be sure which presented more danger to her—her own wayward thoughts or the potent appeal of Rand Colton.

Three

R and Colton was on Lucy’s mind. He’d been there when she’d gone to bed Friday night, he’d been there the moment she woke up Saturday morning, he’d been there all weekend and he was still there Monday morning even before her alarm went off, as she lay in bed.

It was very troubling.

Not only couldn’t she stop thinking about him, but her thoughts…

Very troubling, indeed.

She’d had no business thinking about him kissing her. Vividly thinking about him kissing her. No business at all. She had to be out of her mind.

He was her boss. He was a workaholic over-achiever who didn’t even want a single mother working for him, let alone in any more personal role. And she had better not lose sight of it just because he was a fascinating man.

And he was that, she had to admit.

A fascinating man who also happened to be great-looking, more man than she’d ever met and a brilliant attorney—the kind she’d wanted to be herself before fate had stepped in and made that impossible.

Rand Colton was a fascinating man who also happened to be charming and suave and sophisticated, with a good sense of humor and an admirable strength in his convictions.

What are you, his biggest fan? she asked herself.

Maybe he should have hired her to do his public relations work instead of his secretarial work.

Oh, yeah, her thoughts were troubling, all right.

She’d just met him and here she was ticking off enough attributes to make him sound like Superman.

It just wouldn’t do.

But then none of the places her thoughts were leading her would do.

She had enough on her plate taking care of Max and trying to support them both, she reminded herself. She didn’t have time for daydreams like she’d fallen into all weekend. Let alone time for a relationship or a romance—even if a relationship or a romance was what Rand Colton was offering.

And it wasn’t.

So why was she having such a hard time getting him off her mind when she knew better?

Maybe it was a result of deprivation. There was no denying that she was a young, vital woman who hadn’t had a date in almost five years. And not only that, she also spent most of her time in the company of a four-year-old. It wasn’t even unusual for her to go days without so much as speaking to another adult, especially since quitting her job at the Bar Association library a month ago to make this move to Washington.

So she could make an argument for having been deprived of contact with people her own age, along with being deprived of contact with a man.

Given that, it only made sense that a few hours out in the adult world with someone like Rand Colton would go to her head.

But that was all there was to it, she tried to convince herself. A rebound effect of social and interpersonal deprivation.

And when the man she was out in the adult world with was a man like Rand Colton—a man impossible for any woman not to find attractive—of course she was attracted. Of course her mind was doing some natural wandering. Some natural wondering. Some fantasizing.

But fantasizing was harmless enough, she reasoned. As long as she didn’t act on any of it.

And as long as he didn’t know what was going on.

Or did he?

She hoped not. But she had escaped her own kissing ruminations to find him smiling that smile at her, as if he’d been able to read her every thought like closed-captioning at the bottom of a television screen.

No, that was just silly. He could have had any number of things on his mind to cause that smile.

Still, he’d been looking at her, studying her, which meant the smile might have been an indication that he liked what he saw.

Now that was a dangerous possibility, Lucy realized, annoyed with her once-again-wandering thoughts.

Worse than being attracted to him was the idea that he might have been attracted to her.

She didn’t need that.

Oh sure, it would be a nice boost to her ego. But look what the last boost to her ego had gotten her— Max and raising him alone.

Only this time she wouldn’t be able to say she hadn’t been warned about what the man was all about. Rand Colton had made himself perfectly clear. No kids. Period.

“So stop thinking about him,” she whispered to herself in the pre-dawn darkness of her bedroom as if the spoken word would have more impact.

She really had to stop thinking about how much she’d enjoyed working with him—despite how demanding he was and how high were his expectations.

She had to stop thinking about how much she’d enjoyed bantering with him, debating the child issue, having dinner with him.

She had to stop thinking about cobalt-blue eyes and mile-wide shoulders, and thighs that tested the limits of his impeccably tailored trousers and hands that could cup the entire back of her head against the pressure of a kiss….

“Stop it, stop it, stop it!” she said more forcefully.

She honestly did not want to be thinking the things she was thinking. She honestly didn’t want to be attracted to any man. And she honestly didn’t want any boosts to her ego that could make her vulnerable again.

Yes, Max had come out of that vulnerability and she adored her son. No, she wouldn’t change anything that would mean he wasn’t in her life.

But she couldn’t afford to risk anything that might make history repeat itself, either. She couldn’t afford it financially or emotionally.

Max’s father had hurt her terribly. He hurt her all over again every time Max asked why he didn’t have a dad like other kids did.

Lucy would never willingly open up herself or Max to more of the grief that had already been caused by a man whose life was clearly set on one course. A man who had no interest, no inclination, no intention whatsoever of altering that course to accommodate a woman with a child.

“So get your head out of the clouds, Lucy,” she told herself as her alarm went off.

Because getting involved with a man like Rand Colton once was enough. In fact it was absolutely, unequivocally more than enough.

Once again Sadie was taking Max to day care later in the morning and had come to sit with the little boy when it was time for Lucy to leave. But today Lucy made sure to say her goodbyes ahead of time so that the moment Rand’s driver rang her doorbell she was ready. In fact she nearly rushed him in her hurry to get out.

But this morning when Frank opened the rear car door for her it was to an empty back seat.

One glance there and another to the tall, stoic driver prompted an explanation.

“Mr. Colton had an early breakfast meeting. I’ve already taken him into the city. We aren’t to go directly to the office either. You’ll find a list of things he wants you to do today in the pocket behind the passenger’s seat.”

“He didn’t say—” Lucy cut herself off, hating the confused, disappointed tone her voice had taken, as if she and Rand had had some sort of private plans he’d changed without telling her, leaving his driver to do the dirty work. In truth, he owed her no explanation and she should have been grateful he’d still sent his driver for her.

“Fine,” she amended in her best businesslike demeanor before the driver saw what she was really feeling. Then she got into the car as if she’d been born to it and didn’t wait for Frank to close the door before searching for the note Rand had left her.

Not that it was actually a note. There was nothing written on the sheet of paper she unfolded but a to-do list. No warm greeting. No “It slipped my mind Friday night that I had these things for you to do.” No “I’m sorry for not warning you that you’re on your own today.” Nothing but one task after another that she was to take care of.

He doesn’t owe you any more than that. You’re just his secretary, she lectured herself, trying not to let it bother her as she read the list.

1. Pick up dry cleaning

2. Make enclosed bank deposit

3. Go to florist to hand-pick three arrangements and sign cards: Happy Birthday Deidre. Rand/Congratulations on your promotion, Bunny. I had a great time celebrating. Rand / Thanks for a wonderful evening, Veronica. Rand

There were other items on the list but she was too struck to read them in any detail. Instead she reread the first three things, the third several times, feeling her pique rise higher with each reading.

What did he think she was, his handmaiden? His servant? His social secretary? Laundry and bank deposits and flowers to girlfriends. Girlfriends! Plural. Deidre and Bunny and Veronica.