JOE COLTON’S JOURNAL

An enormous weight has just been lifted from my tired old shoulders. I just received an anonymous message assuring me that my missing foster daughter, Emily, is alive and well and will return home soon. I’ve shared the news with my eldest son, Rand, and also confided my concerns about my crumbling marriage. Rand seems to know more about his mother’s bizarre behavior than he’s letting on, but he’ll tell me what’s on his mind when he’s good and ready. Rand always did me proud, but I do worry about his ruthless determination to succeed. He needs a good woman to show him what’s important in life—and he may have found her in his feisty new legal assistant, Lucy Lowry. Why, this pretty spitfire lights up the office with her spunk and energy, and she is no pushover, let me tell you! She has zero tolerance for Rand’s overbearing ways, which of course doesn’t sit well with my hot-tempered son. Mark my words, all that simmering sexual tension between them is bound to set off some major fireworks….

About the Author

VICTORIA PADE

is a native of Colorado, where she continues to live and work. Her passion—besides writing—is chocolate, which she indulges in frequently and in every form. She loves romance novels and romantic movies—the more lighthearted the better—but she likes a good, juicy mystery now and then, too. She particularly enjoyed being included in the Colton series for the opportunity to write a book with a more cosmopolitan feel to it and for the chance it gave her to research Washington, D.C.

From Boss to Bridegroom
Victoria Pade

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Meet the Coltons—a California dynasty with a legacy of privilege and power.

Rand Colton: The beast. A powerful mover and shaker, this attorney is used to getting his own way—until his new assistant quickly turns his well-ordered life upside down!

Lucy Lowry: The beauty. Capable of giving as good as she gets, Rand’s new assistant tempts him like no other woman he’s ever met. And it’s not long before her boss has only one item on his “to do” list—to move their relationship from the boardroom to the bedroom….

Dr. Martha Wilkes: The baffled therapist. Her patient calls herself Patsy Portman, and yet none of her memories match that woman’s life. Is this a case of multiple personality disorder…or something more nefarious?

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

One

“W ell, of course, you know I need the money. There were all the moving expenses and the cost of the mailings and ads for the business. And there’s no way of knowing how long it will be before I get any kind of work, but—”

“But nothing. The job is only until Rand finds someone else, and it’ll give you the opportunity to become familiar with downtown, plus get your foot in the door with one attorney and make contacts with several others. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Then they’ll send their research work your way and you’ll have your start here.”

Here was Washington, D.C.—Georgetown to be specific—and Lucy Lowry had to admit that her aunt, Sadie Meeks, was right.

Lucy had just moved cross-country from California with her four-year-old son Max and the move itself had been expensive. Now that she was settled into one of the four row houses her aunt had invested in, she needed to concentrate on earning an income, hopefully doing legal research so she could work out of her home and still be with Max as much as possible. But until all her efforts to drum up that kind of business succeeded, she intended to do secretarial work and/or bookkeeping to make ends meet. Which was exactly what her aunt was proposing—the secretarial work, anyway.

“Being downtown is the problem,” she said to her aunt. “Not only would I not be working out of the house, I wouldn’t even be nearby.”

Sadie waved away her concern. “But it would only be for a little while. I told you I spoke with the director of the day care and they’ll let you leave Max there as a favor to me for reading to the kids once a week and because the director is my old sorority sister. It’s a very exclusive day care and there’s a mile-long waiting list that we’re circumventing. Max will get the chance to meet some friends of his own. And he can stay with me some of the time, too. We’ll work on my Gameboy skills.”

Sadie paused and switched gears. “Do it as a favor to me, if nothing else, darling. I’m enjoying my retirement and as fond as I am of Rand Colton, I just don’t feel like going back to work. But he’s in such a bind….”

Lucy knew she couldn’t argue with that tack. Her aunt—her favorite aunt—had only recently bought the row of four town houses and offered one to her and Max rent-free. Sadie had insisted that the rent on two of the places paid the payment on all four and if Lucy and Max moved to Georgetown to help manage the properties, particularly when Sadie traveled, it would more than make up for the lack of rent on the town house they’d occupy. Because of that arrangement Lucy could afford to freelance rather than work a nine-to-five office job and so she’d jumped at the offer. But now she couldn’t very well refuse to do Sadie a favor in return.

“Just interview with Rand,” Sadie urged. “Who knows, you may not even get the job. And even if you do, it’s really only a matter of cleaning up the messes a string of incompetent secretaries have left behind since I retired. Rand will be looking for someone else in the meantime. It might only be a few days before a wonderful whiz of a secretary walks through the door and you’d be finished just that quick. But he says he’s going crazy with the people the temp agency sends him.”

“I still don’t understand why he’s had such bad luck with secretaries.”

“I won’t lie to you, he isn’t an easy man to work for. He and I got on just fine but only because I took most of his bluster with a grain of salt. Deep down he has a good heart, but it’s not always evident behind his brusque manner. And he’s quite demanding. But then he’s a man, after all, and even the best of them need some taking care of.”

“It sounds more like the description of a big baby. A big spoiled baby,” Lucy commented with a laugh.

“He’s a long way from being a baby,” her aunt answered with a hint of innuendo in her voice. “He’s all man. All very formidable man. He carries a killing caseload and works insane hours, then can party until dawn and still make an impressive appearance in court by nine. He just doesn’t seem to understand that not everyone can keep the same pace or accomplish all he can. Plus, he’s blunt and outspoken. I’ve heard him called arrogant. And he doesn’t suffer fools gladly. But I wouldn’t be throwing you into the lion’s den unless I knew you were up to it. Besides,” Sadie added as if she were sharing a confidence, “he’s one of the most handsome men you’ll ever meet. So when he’s at his worst just sit back, take in the scenery and tune him out.”

Not an easy man to work for? Brusque manner? Demanding? Formidable? Blunt, outspoken, arrogant? And that was coming from a woman who considered herself Rand Colton’s biggest fan.

Rand Colton had to be a bear of a boss.

“Please, darling. I’ve given all my work clothes to charity and I’ve grown accustomed to lounging around in my bathrobe until midmorning. I just don’t want to go back to work. But Rand really needs help right now.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes at her aunt. “You don’t have an ulterior motive, do you? That business about how handsome he is—that was just to soften the blow of his personality flaws, right?”

Sadie was as tall a woman as Lucy was, both of them stood a full five-foot-six-inches, but where Lucy was slender, Sadie was more plump, with round apple cheeks that puffed out even more with the smile she granted her niece.

“No ulterior motives,” Sadie vowed. “I know you’ve sworn off men.”

“I haven’t ’sworn off’ men,” Lucy said, taking issue. “That makes me sound bitter and extremist, and I’m neither of those things. I have merely opted to—”

“Dedicate yourself for the moment to Max. I know. You’ve told me once or twice or fifty times. Not that I blame you for a lack of interest in men after what Max’s father did. But believe me, Rand has more than enough female companionship and I’m the last person who would set up my own niece with such a playboy. This is strictly selfishness on my part. I’m trying to get him the assistance he needs without being the one to provide it myself.”

Lucy stalled for another moment just for effect and then said, “All right. I guess you can arrange an interview.”

“Done! Three o’clock this afternoon. I’ll drive you in myself and take Max for ice cream while you meet Rand.”

Lucy laughed again. “You’ve already arranged for the interview. Very sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“It’ll work out for the best. You’ll see. Now go change into a suit. You have to look professional. Rand is a stickler for that.”

“Oh good, a stickler, too,” Lucy said facetiously, adding stickler and playboy to the already long list of things that didn’t recommend Rand Colton to her.

“Just keep thinking of all the other attorneys you’ll encounter to hand out your card to,” Sadie advised airily. “Now scoot! You don’t want to be late. He can’t abide anyone being late either.”

“I think I should have two scoops on-account-a when you go someplace dressed like that we don’t eat dinner till way late in the nighttime and by then I’ll be hungry again.”

Lucy craned around to look at her son, strapped into the back seat of Sadie’s car by seat belts.

Max was small for his age but precocious. He seemed more like four going on forty most of the time, making it difficult to argue with his reasoning.

“It’s true that I dress like this to go to work. But today I’m just going to talk to a man, so it won’t take that long. We’ll have dinner at the same time we do every night now.”

Max wrinkled his pert little nose.

Lucy thought that even if she weren’t his mother she’d think he was adorable. He had chipmunk cheeks, big blue eyes that stared out at her from behind owlish eyeglasses, and whisk-broom brown hair cut close to his head.

“Two scoops, okay?” he said as if she should grant permission despite their previous exchange.

“Sorry. One scoop, buddy.”

“But what if they have the butter brickle kind and the bubble-gum kind? Then I should have a scoop of each and eat supper better tomorrow.”

“If they have both kinds you can have one scoop of one kind now and we’ll get the other kind to take home for tomorrow.”

Max grinned victoriously, as if that had been what he was angling for all along.

Seeing it made Lucy’s heart balloon. He had a silly habit of biting the tip of his tongue between his front teeth when he grinned like that and it was so cute she couldn’t believe it. He also had heartbreaker dimples in each chubby cheek that made him look irresistibly impish.

“What if there are three kinds?” he suggested as if he knew her defenses were down.

“Quit while you’re ahead,” she advised as both she and Sadie laughed.

Sadie pulled to a stop at a red light and nodded to the huge chrome and glass high-rise building on the next block. “Rand’s office is in there. I’ll just drop you off out front. The ice-cream parlor is two blocks farther down in the lobby of the redbrick building. They have underground parking there so I’ll be able to get a spot. Why don’t you walk over and meet us when you’re finished?”

“You don’t want to come up and say hello?”

“Rand and I had a nice chat on the phone. I know how busy he is. I don’t want to bother him with a drop-in.”

When the light turned green, Sadie pulled through the intersection and eased the car to the curb in front of Rand Colton’s building. “He’s on the twenty-third floor, Suite 2300. Good luck.”

“I probably need it,” Lucy said wryly. Then, with a quick glance back at Max again, she added, “Be good for Aunt Sadie.”

“He’ll be fine,” Sadie answered as the car behind them honked.

Lucy took that as her cue and hurried out of the vehicle so her aunt could get going again.

As she entered the imposing building, she checked her watch. She had twenty minutes to spare and while she had no intention of being late, she also didn’t want to appear overeager.

So with time to spare, she found a rest room in the lobby and went in to check her appearance.

She’d worn what she considered her power suit—a navy blue formfitting jacket with a high split-collar that helped disguise the length of her neck, and straight-leg slacks to match. She knew that some schools of thought held that a woman should wear a skirt but she didn’t subscribe to it. Partly because she felt more comfortable—and more confident—in pants, and partly because on her eighteenth birthday she’d taken a dare from a friend and been tattooed on the inside of her right ankle. It was a tasteful rose tattoo, barely an inch from bud to stem and not readily noticeable, but depending on how conservative the interviewer was, it could be detrimental.

She freshened her lipstick. It was a pale shade of burnished red and, along with mascara and blush, was the only makeup she wore.

She was glad to see that her blue eyes—the same shade as Max’s—were clear of the slight redness an allergy had caused the day before. But she closed them for a moment to fight the burning that was a continuing result of having cleaned out the dusty attic.

Her shoulder-length mahogany hair was ordinarily a hard-to-tame mass of spiral curls, but for interviews she always wrestled it into a topknot. If she left it loose, she had a tendency toward a come-hither sort of appearance that some men read as a sexual invitation. It wasn’t an impression she wanted to give.

She checked her watch again—2:50—and decided it was time to take the elevator to the twenty-third floor.

On the way up she felt the same anticipatory tension she always experienced when facing a job interview, but she fought it by reminding herself that this was only a temporary position and even if it could be an important step in making contacts in the legal profession, she already had a foot in the door in the form of her aunt.

But still, knowing in advance that Rand Colton was a difficult man put her on edge. She took several deep breaths, hoping that would help and stepped off the elevator when the doors opened.

Suite 2300 was to her right, at the end of the hallway. Two oversize oak doors unlike any others on the floor marked the entry and a simple, elegant gold nameplate announced Rand Colton, Attorney At Law.

Lucy took a last deep breath, reached for the ornate gold knob and entered the office to the distant sound of female sobbing and male shouting. “It was a simple enough task—cancel an appointment. Instead you let the CEO of a major company come all the way down here when I was in court. You may just be a temp but surely someone somewhere told you that when your employer tells you to call a client and cancel an appointment you should actually pick up the phone and do it.”

More sobbing surrounded a pitiful, “I forgot.”

“You forgot?”

The booming male voice was loud enough to hurt Lucy’s ears and she wasn’t even in the same room.

“You rattled off so many things in such a hurry I couldn’t write them all down fast enough and then you left and I tried—”

“Trying isn’t good enough! Do you know what that man’s time is worth?”

Apparently the temp had no answer to that because rather than feebly defending herself any longer, she came rushing out of the inner office, snatched her purse from a desk drawer and ran past Lucy out of the suite.

Definitely a bear of a boss. Assuming, of course, that the man delivering the tirade was Rand Colton.

“Incompetence and idiocy. Where do they find these people?”

This last part wasn’t a shout, it was more a remark to himself that Lucy could still hear as she stood in the reception area.

If it hadn’t been so close to three o’clock by then, she would have slipped out of the office and given the man she hadn’t yet set eyes on a moment to calm down before their meeting.

Just then the man came storming out of the inner office. Without so much as a glance in Lucy’s direction he charged the large oak reception desk to pound punishingly on the computer keyboard. He didn’t show any indication that he’d even realized she was there, but with his eyes still on the computer monitor, he said in as derogatory a tone as she’d ever heard, “And who are you?”

Patience, she counseled herself.

“I’m Lucy Lowry, Sadie Meeks’s niece. We have a three o’clock interview.”

“Is it that late already?” he barked, while still assaulting the keyboard.

“I’m afraid it is.”

“Well, I don’t have time for you right this minute. I have to smooth some ruffled feathers. Sit down and wait.”

“Excuse me?”

Lucy hadn’t intended to use such an imperious tone with him. It had just come out that way in response to the increasing outrage she was feeling. But she didn’t regret it. No one spoke to her like that and got away with it.

Apparently her tone wasn’t lost on the man because he stopped what he was doing, stood up straighter and looked directly at her for the first time through cobalt-blue eyes that might have caused a lesser person to cower.

But Lucy merely stood her ground.

His very sharp jaw pulsed as if he’d just clenched his teeth, but he adopted a more businesslike attitude. “Please take a seat while I make a phone call, Ms. Lowry, and I’ll be with you as soon as possible.”

That was more like it.

“I’d be happy to,” she informed him, turning on her heels to sit on one of the six overstuffed chairs that lined the walls beneath paintings she recognized as originals of high-quality artists.

When he found what he was looking for on the computer—apparently a phone number—he sat in the desk chair and picked up the phone.

Lucy had to admit as she was forced to overhear the conciliatory call, though, that he handled it with aplomb. He put minimal blame on the temp, accepted the responsibility for having heaped too many things on her at once, and he did it all without playing the sycophant, which someone else in a position of having needlessly inconvenienced an important client might have.

Lucy was impressed.

She also had the chance to take a good long look at him as he made dinner plans with the man on the other end of the line.

She’d realized how tall he was when he’d stormed into the waiting room—an intimidating six feet two inches of well-muscled, broad-shouldered self-possession. Along with his striking blue eyes and chiseled jawline, he had dark hair the color of espresso without cream, full eyebrows, an aquiline nose and intriguing lips—the upper one much thinner than the lower.

Her aunt had not been exaggerating when she’d said he was handsome. Handsome didn’t begin to describe the whole package of incredible good looks, exquisitely honed physique and a presence that filled the room. Packaged in a gray Armani suit, a paler gray shirt as crisp as the moment it had come off the dry cleaner’s press, and a silk tie that no doubt cost as much as Lucy’s entire outfit, he was something to behold.

But only in a purely observational, objective way, Lucy was quick to assure herself. After all, it wasn’t as if she were interested in the man himself. No matter how incredible-looking he was. Number one, she had put romance on hold in her life to raise her son and had no intention of changing that for anyone. And number two, even if she hadn’t, she knew better than to get anywhere near a personal relationship with a man like Rand Colton.

But the scenery was most assuredly fine. Her aunt hadn’t been wrong about that.

Lucy just wasn’t sure if it would be fine enough to compensate for his bad behavior if she were ever on the receiving end of his tirade.

His phone call finally ended, and without a word to her, he made another for dinner reservations at a restaurant Lucy had seen on the news just the night before. It had been touted as the finest D.C. had to offer, but according to the report, people were waiting up to six months to get in. It only took the mention of his name to get him a table for four at eight.

Then he hung up for the second time, lunged out of the chair and rounded the desk to perch a hip on its corner and focus his total attention on her just that quick.

“So you’re Sadie’s niece. I didn’t know before I talked to her yesterday that she had one.”

“Lucy Lowry,” she repeated, unsure if he’d remembered her name. “And since I just heard you on the phone, I know now that you’re Rand Colton.”

“Sorry for not introducing myself. Yes, I am.”

That seemed to stall the conversation as he studied her so intently she wanted to squirm. But she didn’t. She wouldn’t give him that advantage.

Then he said, “Sadie tells me you’ve been an executive secretary and done some legal research in the past, that legal research is what you want to do exclusively now but that you might be able to spare some time to straighten things up around here and keep me going until I can find someone else.”

“Sounds like my aunt did the interview for me.”

“She says you’re as good as she is.”

“We’ve never worked together so I wouldn’t know if that’s the truth or not. But I am good.”

That brought a slow-as-molasses, one-sided smile from him, as if she’d said something with a double entendre he hadn’t missed and wouldn’t let go.

Lucy sat up straighter, anticipating an inappropriate comment.

But he surprised her and kept his wayward thoughts—if that was what had been behind his expression—to himself.

Unfortunately she was also aware of an unwarranted little flutter of something wholly unprofessional that that devilish quirk of a smile set off in her. And maintaining a stiff posture didn’t help that one iota.

“Did Sadie warn you about what I require in the way of a secretary?”

“She said you were brusque and demanding.”

He laughed, a deep, barrel-chested sound that seemed to warm the air all around them. “Honesty. I like that. Did she warn you about the amount of work I need from a secretary-slash-assistant-slash-researcher and the kind of hours I keep?”

“Basically. But you should know that I absolutely will not work past five o’clock.”

That sobered him and pulled his brows nearly together over those stunning eyes of his. “Okay, I’m going to go out on a limb here because you’re Sadie’s niece and this is somewhat of an informal interview. I’m in a mess and the last thing I need is another single mother running through this office. I’ve had my fill of them in the last two months. Every time I turn around they’re on the phone with one of their kids or worrying about them or leaving to do something with them. So I’m not asking if you have children. But if you do, do us both a favor and just say thanks but no thanks here and now.”

Max was not something Lucy hid from anyone and it was on the tip of her tongue to admit that yes, she was a single mother. But at the same time it also occurred to her that it was none of Rand Colton’s business one way or another. Being a parent—even a single parent—would not interfere with the job he wanted her to do for him. On the other hand, as vehement as he was on the subject of single mothers, Lucy thought that it could very well influence his opinion of her and that could reflect down the road in referrals or derogatory comments he might make to other attorneys she could be courting for research work.

She didn’t deny having a child—that was something she would never do. But since he was leaving it up to her to give him the sign that she did have a child by turning the job down, she just didn’t do it. Instead she said, “I assure you I will not let personal calls interrupt my work and you’ll get very full days out of me. They’ll just end at five.”

“I work later than that.”

“I don’t.”

Lucy met him eye to eye in the stare-down that followed, not so much as blinking before he did. Yes, she’d come to realize working with this man would give her just the opening and contacts she needed to garner future research work and so the job was more valuable to her than she’d originally thought, but it wasn’t so vital that she would neglect Max because of it.

Rand Colton was the first to break the standoff.

“You know I’m under the gun here. The library back there—” he threw a nod over his shoulder in the direction of the corridor behind him “—is full of files that need to be updated, sorted and put away. I don’t know how people can tout themselves as competent when they don’t even seem to know the alphabet. I’m working on several big cases and, as I’m sure you’ve gathered just since arriving, my scheduling is a mess.”

“I can take care of all that.”

“But not after five.”

“I’ll give you one late night to get things under control. But after that I leave at five. No matter what.”

“Are you rushing off to a husband or a boyfriend who can’t fix his own dinner?”

“Is exposure of my private life a factor in doing your filing?”

He sized her up again but his expression was still more amused than not.

“So I can take your services or leave them, but anything outside of the office is off-limits. Is that it?”

“I’m only temporary help,” she reminded him. “I don’t see why too many details need to be explored for me to come in on that basis.”

He went on piercing her with those deep cobalt-blue eyes that seemed more remarkable the longer Lucy looked into them. But in the end he conceded.

“I’m trusting Sadie not to steer me wrong about your skills, so I guess I’ll have to be satisfied with days that end at five. But you’d better be as good as your aunt says you are.”

“So I’m hired?”

“You’re hired. Can you start tomorrow?”

“On a Friday?”

He nodded. “And stay tomorrow night the way you said you would.”

Rand Colton, playboy, wanted to work on a Friday night?

“All right,” Lucy agreed because it wasn’t as if she had anything planned. “Then I’ll be here at eight tomorrow morning.”

“Sadie didn’t tell you about that?”

About what? Her aunt hadn’t told her much about him at all over the years, just as Sadie had apparently not told him about her.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to. I know you’re a prominent attorney who was originally from California, and that’s about all Sadie has told me.”

“She also told you I’m brusque and demanding,” he reminded, that quirky smile making a reappearance to let her know he found that amusing.

“And that you’re brusque and demanding,” she confirmed. “But nothing about what’s wrong with my being here at eight tomorrow morning.”

“I live in Georgetown, too. I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty. I like to start work on the way in. It saves us going over what needs to be accomplished for the day when we both get here. So, seven-thirty,” he repeated. “Sharp. Don’t keep me waiting.”

Since that sounded like a dismissal, Lucy stood.

“Seven-thirty. I’ll be ready.”

“And I have you until late tomorrow night.”

Why did that sound like something that involved more than work?

She was probably just imagining it.

Or was he trying to charm her?

It didn’t make any difference because she was absolutely going to ignore those flutters that were dancing around in her insides again in response.

“I’ll even bring after-hours shoes,” she said as if to convince him.

“Okay. Then we’re squared away.”

“But you will be looking for someone permanent to take my place? I really want to get into my freelance work at home before too long,” she said to make sure they were clear.

“I have an employment agency on it as we speak.”

“Good.”

“Say hello to Sadie for me,” Rand Colton said then.

“I will.”

“If you’re half the secretary she is, I’ll be satisfied.”

“I’m sure you’ll be satisfied,” Lucy said, mortified the moment the word was out of her mouth that she’d unconsciously put a lascivious spin on it. “With my work,” she added in a hurry, compounding her error.

Rand Colton grinned at her this time. A full, delighted grin of glistening, perfect white teeth that let her know right then and there why he had so many women willing to spend time with him.

But he let her off the hook by crossing to the office door to hold it open for her and saying a simple, “Seven-thirty.”

Lucy fought the blush that was heating her cheeks and took her exit, unhappy that she also noticed the fresh, clean scent of his aftershave as she passed in front of him to leave.

“I’ll tell Sadie you said hello,” Lucy muttered just for something to say as she left the office.

But her encounter with Rand Colton didn’t end then because he stayed in his doorway, watching her as she retraced her steps to the elevator. And when she hazarded a glance just before stepping into it, she found him still there, studying her.

But at least once the elevator doors closed she was alone and could breathe out the air she’d been unwittingly holding in her lungs.

It was going to be harder than she thought to work for Rand Colton, she realized on the way down from the twenty-third floor.

She could handle a difficult, demanding boss. But a difficult, demanding boss with gorgeous blue eyes, a body straight out of Esquire, charm, wit and even an unexpected sense of humor, who set off flutters in her stomach?

That was something else again.

Two

R and had never needed much sleep. The next morning, as usual, he was awake before the November sun had made an appearance. It was his morning routine right after waking to pour himself a cup of coffee, grab the just-delivered Washington Post and climb back into bed to read it before he showered.

But this morning, current events weren’t holding his interest. His gaze kept straying to the clock on his nightstand as if that would make time go faster.

He didn’t understand why he was so eager to get to work. He hadn’t felt that way in a long while now.

In fact, he hadn’t felt particularly eager about anything in a while now.

There were family problems back home in Prosperino, California, and he’d tried to tell himself that was the cause. But the truth was that there was something about his own life that seemed to have taken a turn when he wasn’t looking.

He didn’t understand it, and he couldn’t explain it. But in the last several months he’d lost some of the joy he’d found in things before. In his work. In his everyday life. In everything.

He still had the same intense drive to succeed, the same burning need to win his cases. That was just his nature—maybe because he was a firstborn. But he didn’t feel that old desire to charge into his day anymore. Nor his after-hours activities either, whether it was dinner with a supermodel in town for a shoot, a party at the White House, a fund-raiser for one of his pet causes or a weekend in the country with a gorgeous woman. It was as if everything had become mundane to him. Even excelling at what he did or being on the A-list around town.

Yet here he was this morning, excited to get his day under way.

Why was that?

The day ahead of him was like any other one. He had calls to make, clients to see, briefs and motions to write, a court appearance after lunch and then more of the same when he got back. Then he had the evening working with Lucy Lowry to straighten up the messes left by the previous secretaries.

Lucy Lowry.

Thinking about her intensified his sense of eagerness.

His latest temporary secretary was causing it?

That couldn’t be.

But there it was, irrefutably. What he was looking forward to today was seeing her again.

If that wasn’t the oddest thing, he didn’t know what was. He’d come away from their meeting yesterday thinking that he was who had really been interviewed. That he’d ended up being told how things were going to be run more than being the one to tell her. That she’d made the rules and left him to take it or leave it rather than the other way around. She was bossy and bold and outspoken.

So why was he so anxious to put himself in line for more of it?

She was great-looking, that was likely part of it. He was a sucker for a slender but curvy body with breasts that were just full enough. And that flawless ivory skin didn’t hurt anything. Or that curly mahogany hair—she’d no doubt thought she’d camouflaged its natural seductiveness by trussing it up.

She had a pert little nose, too. Upturned at the end. That wasn’t something he usually noticed, but for some reason he could picture it in his mind’s eye as if he’d fashioned it himself.

Then there were her eyes. Wide eyes that offset her simmering sexuality with a more innocent, doelike quality. Sparkling, crystal-blue eyes the color of a clear mountain lake in springtime. They were alight with life, with vigor, energy and spunk. Plenty of spunk.

In fact, he realized as he watched the sunrise through the sliding doors that led from his bedroom onto the balcony, she had so much spunk she reminded him of the characters Katharine Hepburn had played in so many of her movies with Spencer Tracy. Beautiful, feisty, sharp, smart and able to hold her own with Tracy whether as a lawyer or a reporter or a business whiz.

That was Lucy Lowry—beautiful, feisty, sharp and smart.

And he couldn’t seem to get the image of her out of his mind—any more than he could slow the increased beat of his heart every time she slipped into his head.

So what did that mean? That after fifteen minutes with her he was infatuated?

That was ridiculous.

He hadn’t been infatuated-at-first-sight with anyone since his first year in college. He hadn’t been particularly infatuated even after-first-sight with anyone for longer than he could remember. He enjoyed the company of the various women in his life. He looked forward to spending time with them, to everything they did together. But infatuated?

That was something else entirely.

That was like having a schoolboy crush and that wasn’t something Rand Colton did.

But how else could he explain being so excited about going to work?

Maybe he was just glad to finally have someone competent onboard. Maybe the idea of getting his office in order again had just gone to his head.

Of course it would help if she hadn’t put that five-o’clock stipulation on things, he thought, actually searching for something contrary to find in the situation.

What was that all about anyway? She’d been so adamant.

There had to be a man behind it, he decided. Some guy she was rushing home to, whether she admitted it or not.

But that possibility rankled Rand and again he looked for a reason.

He had so much work he needed taken care of—that was all. And there she was decreeing that her day would end at five o’clock on the dot no matter what.

Decreeing—that rubbed him wrong, too. And there’d been plenty of it. Plenty of decreeing and dictating. And big baby-blue eyes or no big baby-blue eyes, he didn’t like it.

Any better than he liked the thought that she might be running to some other man….

Oh, brother, there was that again.

Some other man? As if he were involved with her and a boyfriend would be another man in her life?

“Maybe I’ve been working too hard,” Rand muttered to himself, disgusted with his own train of thought.

Lucy Lowry was just one more in a string of women who had passed through his office since Sadie’s retirement, he told himself reasonably. There had been a dozen before her, there would be more after her, and that was all there was to it. What she did outside the office and who she fraternized with were her own business and no concern of his.

And being eager to see her again this morning?

It was just…

Well, he didn’t know what it was. But it wasn’t infatuation.

He tossed aside his unread newspaper, set his coffee cup on the nightstand and got out of bed, feeling more agitated than eager now. Because the very idea that he might be interested in Lucy Lowry was too much to bear.

Women didn’t come into his life and tell him what to do. And he sure as hell didn’t like them if they did. He was only tolerating it in Lucy Lowry because he was in dire need of office help and Sadie had assured him he would get it from her niece.

Yet despite all his sternness with himself, all his reasoning and rationalizing, as he headed for the shower Lucy Lowry popped into his mind’s eye again and he found himself wondering what that burnished hair of hers looked like down, falling in loose curls around her face.

And if she might wear it that way today…

Lucy’s doorbell rang at precisely seven-twenty-nine.

She opened the door, expecting to find Rand Colton on the stoop and instead faced a stout, balding older man in a chauffeur’s uniform.

She glanced beyond him at the long black Town Car parked at the curb and assumed her boss was waiting there.

“I’ll be right out,” she informed the driver.

Then she closed the door again and went into the living room where Max sat on Sadie’s lap, his teddy bear snuggled into the crook of one pajama-clad arm.

“Okay, buddy, I have to go. Remember what I told you last night—Aunt Sadie will bring you to day care later this morning when she goes to read to the kids. Until then you’ll stay at her place. She’s making you a special breakfast and I put your dinosaur videotape in your backpack so you can watch that if you want or you can watch cartoons. Then you’ll come home with Aunt Sadie this afternoon and stay with her again. I probably won’t be home before you go to bed but it’s only this once and I’ll call you today and again tonight. Got all that?”

Max nodded solemnly, more asleep than awake and seemingly unfazed by his mother’s imminent departure.

“I’ll miss you,” Lucy told him.

“Miss you, too.”

“Be a good boy.”

Again the nod.

Lucy knew he’d be fine. She didn’t have a doubt that Sadie would take good care of him or that he’d enjoy playing with kids his own age at the day care. She knew he did well with other children, that he made friends easily. But she still felt awful leaving him for such an extended amount of time.

It’s only for today, she reminded herself.

And fast on that thought came one that had been popping into her head all through the last evening and again this morning like some kind of consolation prize—that she was spending the time away from her son with Rand Colton.

She didn’t want that to be something that could brighten her spirits. But for some reason it was. Some reason she didn’t even want to think about, let alone analyze.

“Kiss,” she demanded of her son.

An instant, impish grin tugged at the corner of Max’s mouth just before he planted a wet one on her cheek. Then he turned his face for her to do the same to him.

“I’m taking the Triceratops to day care with me,” he informed her in the meantime.

“Okay, but you know the deal. You have to share.”

“Then maybe I better take the Tyrannosaurus, too.”

Max said that as if it were serious business, which, to him, dinosaurs were.

“Have a nice day.” She ruffled his hair as she said goodbye to her aunt, then forced herself to walk out the door.

“You have a good day, too,” Sadie called after her.

The big black Lincoln Town Car outside had windows too darkly tinted to see through, yet knowing Rand was in that back seat made Lucy’s pulse pick up more speed with each step that drew her nearer.

She wanted to believe it was nothing but first-day jitters. But she knew better. This had more to do with the man himself. And as much as she wished she could deny that fact, she couldn’t.

There had been something about their brief meeting the day before that had caused him to stick in her mind vividly. Images of his tall, lean-but-muscular body, of his handsome face, even of his big hands, had kept her company all through the night.

Something about their brief meeting had caused her to wake up earlier than necessary this morning with a desire to dress just so for their coming day and evening together, inspiring her to wear her best suit, a pale blue cashmere that buttoned in a diagonal from her right shoulder to her left hip. It had been an extremely expensive birthday gift from her aunt that she saved for only the most important workdays.

And worst of all, there had been something about her brief meeting with Rand Colton that had caused her to look forward to today as if it were some kind of special occasion she’d been waiting for her whole life.

He’s your boss, she reminded herself firmly. Not to mention that he was arrogant and irascible. And that she wasn’t interested.

But still, as his driver got out and hurried around the car, a twitter of excitement danced across the surface of her skin at the imminence of seeing Rand Colton again. And no amount of telling herself that sense of excitement was completely uncalled-for made any difference.

When the driver opened the door for her, she got her first view of Rand. Or at least of his profile.

His dark, dark hair was impeccably combed, his face clean-shaven, and the scent of his aftershave wafted enticingly out to her.

He wasn’t wearing a suit coat to cover his pristine white dress shirt, complete with French cuffs and cuff links of brushed gold. Against the stark whiteness of the shirt he wore a mauve silk tie Windsor-knotted at his throat. His suit pants were a rich wool that were not quite black and not quite gray but somewhere between the two. He looked better than any man had a right to that early in the morning.

But Lucy tried not to notice.

“Thank you,” she muttered to the driver as she slipped into the back seat.

Rand was writing something on a sheet of paper braced by a leather-bound notebook. The notebook was propped against a massive thigh that was raised with the aid of his ankle perched atop the opposite knee.

He didn’t look up as Lucy got in and the driver closed the door behind her. He didn’t even say good morning.

Neither did she. Instead she said, “You’re from California and you don’t know how to drive?”

“Of course I know how to drive,” he answered, still not looking up from what he was doing. “But I like living in Georgetown and I don’t like taking the Metro into the city.”

Oh no, no public transportation for His Nibs…

“Besides,” he went on, “we can get a surprising lot of work done on the way into the office if someone else is behind the wheel and fighting traffic. So yes, I own a car, but I also invest in a service that provides this car and driver.”

He continued to write at a breakneck pace and apparently didn’t intend to waste any more time on small talk because he said, “You’ll find paper and pen in the pocket behind the seat. Take this down.”

And so Lucy’s day began.

From that moment on she barely had time to even notice Rand the man. He was like working with an excessively efficient machine. It took everything she had to keep up with him whether he was rattling off the perfect letter or having her jot down notes on his train of thought in preparation for writing a brief, or ordering her to fix his coffee, or to get a client on the phone or bring him a file.

He had the most rapid-fire mind—and mouth to go with it—that she’d ever encountered. No wonder he’d run through a succession of secretaries, Lucy thought more than once during the day. He was almost superhuman and what he really needed was two or three secretaries to meet all his needs.

Not that Lucy missed a step, because she didn’t. In fact, matching him movement for movement became a challenge to her, and once she’d met that challenge, she one-upped him by anticipating several requests before he actually made them. Even though the job and the pace were not what she would have opted to do every day for the rest of her life, she found it all exhilarating. She found him exhilarating, if she were honest with herself or had had the time to ponder it.

She did manage to sneak in a phone call to Max while Rand was in court, but beyond that the day flew by. Before she knew it, it was nearly 6:00 p.m. and they switched gears to tackle what Rand called the mess in the library—stacks of papers and files that previous secretaries had obviously set aside to deal with after the maelstrom of Rand’s workday and then never gotten back to.

But the evening’s work was actually a nice change. After hours her sometimes-hard-to-take boss grew much less intense. Off came the exquisitely tailored suit coat he’d worn from the moment he’d gotten out of the car that morning, joined over a chair-back by his tie. Then he opened the collar button of his hardly wrinkled shirt and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, exposing a thick neck and forearms so sinewy any construction worker would have been proud of them.

“Get out those comfortable shoes you said you were bringing,” he advised Lucy as he led the way to the room he less formally referred to as the research room.

Rand was still all business as they passed the evening going through the stacks of papers. He checked each sheet to make sure what it contained and where it belonged, then handed it to Lucy, telling her which file to put it in.

It was a monotonous task that didn’t allow for conversation as Rand concentrated on what he was doing. But Lucy found herself waiting almost breathlessly for each of those silences to be broken by the deep tones of a voice so rich it could have come from a jazz singer in a smoky New Orleans bar.

When all the papers were tucked neatly into the files, Lucy excused herself for a bathroom break and used her cell phone to call Max and bid him good-night. By the time she returned to the office Rand had transferred all the files to the file room where they spent the remainder of the evening sifting through the deep drawers of the cabinets to put the files away.

She was surprised to find Rand joining her in that portion of the job. Making sure the papers got into the correct files had required his participation, but finding the right slot for them was certainly not something he needed to attend to. Yet there he was, doing just that, right alongside her.

It was nice, Lucy admitted reluctantly. Nice to see that no job was too small for his attention. Rand Colton might be a bear to work for but he didn’t demand any less of himself than he did of anyone else, and somehow that seemed to cushion the weight of his heavy expectations.

By ten o’clock Lucy was beat and glad when they finally finished.

Even Rand seemed worn out as he raised long arms above his head, flexed his broad shoulders and stretched toward the ceiling.

“Okay, enough is enough,” he said to the accompaniment of his back cracking. “That was quite a day’s work.”

“No argument here,” Lucy agreed, rubbing at a crick in her neck.

“I didn’t even let you stop for dinner.”

“I didn’t let you stop for dinner either,” she countered with a small laugh.

“I think I owe you that much. What if we hit the diner around the corner before we go back to Georgetown? My treat for a job well done.”

That was all the invitation sounded like, too. It wasn’t as if he were asking her out on a date or even angling for that. Which, for no good reason, felt slightly demoralizing to Lucy.

But it was the way things should be, she told herself. He was just her boss, she was just his secretary. They’d put in over fourteen hours of work and he was trying to reward her for it. That was all there was to it.

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.

Did he imagine himself to be some kind of playboy potentate? Dishing out orders without so much as a please or thank-you. Forcing her to write his love missives to other women at the same time she was supposed to play wife with his cleaning and banking?

What nerve. What gall. What—

What was she doing getting mad?

Lucy put the brakes on the things going through her mind, on the anger that was gaining momentum.

You’re just his secretary, she reminded herself yet again.

Granted, she hadn’t assumed the job would entail his personal errands. That wasn’t what she had agreed to and it also wasn’t something she would have agreed to. But that wasn’t all that was making her mad. Every time she read that third item on the list and saw those other women’s names, she could feel her blood boil.

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