Alex’s eyes met hers briefly before he looked away.

And once again Paige felt that spark of awareness and attraction.

She had to get control of herself and stop acting like a silly teenager.

On the one hand, the best thing would be to give Alex Noble a wide berth. A really wide berth. On the other hand, that wouldn’t be the best thing for HuntCom.

In fact, she should probably keep a close eye on him. Make sure he was actually doing the job he’d been hired to do.

Maybe she was just paranoid about Alex because he was so attractive. Face it, she chided herself, you’ve been exposed to too many good-looking, self-centred, arrogant men in your lifetime and now you think they’re all like that.

Maybe Alex Noble would prove to be the exception…

PATRICIA KAY,

formerly writing as Trisha Alexander, is the best-selling author of more than thirty contemporary romances. She lives in Houston, Texas. To learn more about her, visit her website at www.patriciakay.com.

Dear Reader,

The whole time I was writing this book, I kept thinking how lucky Paige was, and she didn’t even know it. After all, what young woman wouldn’t want to meet and fall in love with a billionaire? Especially one as handsome and wonderful as Alex. But, as loyal readers of romance know, the course of true love never runs smoothly. And the story of Paige and Alex is no exception.

I hope you enjoy reading their story as much as I enjoyed writing it. And I hope you’re as anxious to read Gray’s story (coming next) as I am. The Hunt brothers really wormed their way into my heart, and I can’t wait to find out what happens next.

As always, thank you for your faithful readership. You are all wonderful and very much appreciated.

Warmly,

Patricia Kay

The Billionaire and His Boss

PATRICIA KAY

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This one’s for Gail, with a huge thank you

for all the years of encouragement

and friendship.

Prologue

Mid-July, The Hunt Mansion

Harrison Hunt, founder and CEO of HuntCom, sat behind his enormous mahogany desk in the library of the behemoth he called home and looked from one to the other of his sons. “Four sons and not a marriage among you.” He shook his head in obvious dismay. “I’ve never thought much about my legacy, nor about having grandchildren to carry on the Hunt name. But my heart attack made me face some hard truths. I could have died. I could die tomorrow.”

His face was grimly intent as he continued. “I finally realized that left to your own devices, you four never will get married, which means I’ll never have grandchildren. Well, I don’t intend to leave the future of this family to chance any longer.”

His eyes bored into theirs. “You have a year. One year. By the end of that time, each of you will not only be married, you will either already have a child or your wife will be expecting one.”

Alex Hunt stared at his father. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and he could see from the expressions on the faces of his brothers that they felt the same way. Was this a joke? Had that heart attack Harry’d had affected his brain?

“And if any one of you refuses,” Harry continued flatly, ignoring the disbelief in their faces, “you’ll all lose your positions in HuntCom…and the perks you love so much.”

“You can’t be serious,” Gray, the oldest at forty-two, finally said.

“I’m deadly serious.”

J.T., two years older than Alex at thirty-eight, broke the brief, shocked silence. “How will you run the company if we refuse to do what you want?” He reminded their father of the expansions taking place in Seattle and in their Delhi facility. “Construction delays alone would cost HuntCom a fortune.”

But Harry didn’t budge. He said it didn’t matter about the current projects, because if they didn’t agree to do what he was demanding, he would sell the entire HuntCom empire, including the ranch Justin loved so much, the island that was J.T.’s passion, and the foundation that meant so much to Alex. Gray cared about everything. He’d been second-in-command to Harry ever since graduating from college and he fully expected to move into the president’s spot when Harry finally retired.

“Before I die,” Harry continued relentlessly, “I mean to see each of you settled, and with a family started. I want you married to decent women who’ll make good wives and mothers.” He paused for a moment, then added, “And the women you marry have to win Cornelia’s approval.”

“Does Aunt Cornelia know about this?” Justin, who was the youngest brother at thirty-four, asked in disbelief.

Alex also had a hard time believing their sensible honorary aunt would go along with such a nutty scheme.

“Not yet,” Harry admitted.

Alex knew his relief was shared by his brothers. When Cornelia learned about Harry’s plan, she’d put a stop to it. In fact, she was the only one capable of talking Harry out of anything. He would listen to her.

“So,” Justin said, “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. Each of us has to agree to marry and produce a kid within a year—”

“All of you have to agree,” Harry interrupted. “All four of you. If one refuses, everyone loses, and life as you’ve known it—your jobs, the HuntCom holdings you each value so much—will be gone.”

Muttered curses followed this pronouncement.

“And the brides have to be approved by Aunt Cornelia,” Justin said.

If the situation hadn’t been so surreal, Alex would have laughed. If Cornelia’d had to approve Harry’s brides, Alex’s and his brothers’ lives would have been very different.

Harry nodded. “She’s a shrewd woman. She’ll know if any of the women aren’t good wife material.”

Alex looked at Gray, whose expression was furious.

Ignoring their incredulity, Harry went on. “You can’t tell the women you’re rich, nor that you’re my sons. I don’t want another fortune hunter in the family. God knows, I married enough of them myself. I don’t want any of my sons making the same mistakes I made.”

That’s for sure, Alex thought. Every single woman Harry had ever married had been a gold digger. And Alex’s mother was probably the biggest gold digger of them all. As always, thoughts of his mother produced feelings of bitterness. Alex shook it off. Long ago he’d decided dwelling on the subject of his mother was counter-productive.

“I don’t know about my brothers,” Justin finally said, “but my answer is that you can take my job and shove it. Nobody tells me who to marry, or if I’ll marry, or when I’ll have kids.”

Harry’s expression changed. For a moment, Alex actually thought his father’s feelings had been hurt. But hell, what did the old man expect? He was treating them like chattel. As though their feelings didn’t matter at all. Did he think they’d just lie down and take it? After all, they were his sons. But no one had ever told Harry what to do.

“So be it,” Harry said, his voice hardening. He looked around. “What about the rest of you?”

Alex nodded. “I’m not my mother. You can’t buy me.”

Although the brothers all agreed, Harry didn’t back down. His last words before leaving them were, “I’ll give all of you some time to rethink your positions. You have until 8:00 p.m. Pacific time—three days from now. If I don’t hear from you to the contrary before then, I’ll tell my lawyers to start looking for a buyer for HuntCom.”

“Son-of-a-bitch,” Justin swore softly as the door closed behind Harry.

“He’s bluffing,” Gray said. “He’d never sell the company.” His cell phone rang and he glanced at the caller ID before tucking it back in his pocket. “Even if he does hold the controlling interest.” Gray was referring to the fact that their father held fifty-one percent of the stock in HuntCom, so even if all four of them plus their Aunt Cornelia voted no to a sale, Harry’s wishes would prevail.

“I don’t see it happening, either,” J.T. said. But there was doubt in his voice.

“I don’t know,” Justin said slowly. “Cornelia says Harry’s been different since his heart attack.”

Alex hated to admit it, but he agreed with Justin. Even if Harry hadn’t had that heart attack, he was a stubborn man. When he made up his mind about something, it was impossible to sway him.

“Different how?” Gray asked dubiously. His cell phone rang again and he glanced at it impatiently.

“She says he’s been moody, a word I found it hard to believe the old man even knows.”

“Then maybe he is serious,” Alex said, frowning.

“We’re in the middle of a buy-out.” Gray shrugged into his jacket. “There’s no way he’d consider selling the company until it’s finished and that might be months away. He’s bluffing.”

“How can you be sure?” Alex asked. “What if you’re wrong? Do you want to take that chance? Lose everything you’ve worked for over the past eighteen years? I know I sure as hell don’t want to see the Hunt Foundation shut down…or run by someone else.” For years now, Alex had headed the foundation, the philanthropic arm of HuntCom. For Alex, it was more than a job. It was his passion, his raison d’être. As far as he was concerned, the best thing about being a Hunt was the ability and means to do some good in the world.

The brothers continued to discuss Harry’s ultimatum, but since they weren’t getting anywhere, they finally decided to call it a night.

“I’ll see you at the office tomorrow,” Gray said to

J.T. as they all moved toward the door. “We need to go over the figures for that possible plant in Singapore.”

Alex walked with his brothers down the hallway and out of the house to the parking deck, which was halfway up the hillside overlooking Lake Washington. Every time he came here, he marveled at the beauty of the place. Across the lake, the lights of the Seattle skyline shimmered.

Not that Alex wanted to live in a place like this one. Who the hell needed a mansion, anyway? Even when all four of them had lived with Harry, they’d rattled around in the place. And now that their father was alone except for the servants, it seemed ludicrous to have a place this large. But Harry seemed to need the trappings of wealth.

Alex continued to think about his father’s edict as he drove his silver Navigator back to the city where he kept an apartment downtown near the Hunt Foundation offices.

By the time he’d gotten home, fixed himself a drink and a salad and warmed up some leftover chicken piccata that he’d made two days earlier, he was completely convinced that he and his brothers had done the right thing in turning down their father’s deal. It was simply too manipulative. Too cold and calculating. Besides, he was now beginning to think, like Gray, that Harry was bluffing.

Sure, he was stubborn, but Alex had a feeling Harry was counting on the fact his sons knew how stubborn he could be to convince them that he meant what he had said. But Alex also knew his father had worked far too long and too hard to build his empire to ever give it up.

No.

He’d never sell everything. All they had to do was wait him out, and he’d back down.

So when Alex and his brothers were conferenced into a call from Justin the following evening and Justin said he thought they should take the deal, Alex was shocked, even though Justin explained why he thought so.

“I went to see Cornelia,” he said. “And she feels there’s a strong possibility Harry’s threat to sell the company is real. She said she’s been growing increasingly worried about him since his heart attack. She confided that Harry seems uncharacteristically introspective and that on several occasions he’s told her all he wants is for us to be married and to have children. Cornelia says she’s afraid Harry feels a need to right his wrongs and is getting his fiscal and emotional affairs in order in preparation for dying.”

“So you’re willing to let him choose your wife?” Alex said to Justin in disbelief.

“No,” Justin said. “I’m willing to convince him that’s what’s happening, but I’ll do the choosing. I spend half my time in Idaho, not Seattle. I’ll marry someone acceptable to him and set her up in a home in the city and then I’ll go back to Idaho.”

“You think that’ll work?” The question came from J.T.

“Oh, yeah,” Justin drawled, cynicism lacing his tone. “The second she realizes she’s married to a Hunt and has a generous allowance, she’ll gladly live in Seattle while I live wherever the hell I want. I’ll write off the cost of keeping her and the kid as a business expense.”

“Damn, Justin,” Alex said. “That’s cold.” Not to mention dishonest. ButAlex didn’t say that. He knew his brothers all thought he was too idealistic, that he simply didn’t understand the cold realities of the world.

“Not cold. Practical,” Justin said.

“You know this won’t work unless all of us are in,” Gray said.

“I know,” Justin said. “And it won’t work for any of us unless we come up with a contract that ties Harry’s hands in the future. We’d have to make sure he can never blackmail us like this again.”

“Absolutely,” J.T. put in. “If he thinks he can manipulate us with threats, he’ll do it again in a heartbeat.”

“So if we do this, we are going to need an ironclad contract that controls the situation,” Alex said, thinking out loud.

“If all Harry had threatened us with was loss of income,” Justin said, “I’d tell him to go to hell and walk. But I’m not willing to lose the ranch. What about the rest of you?”

Alex finally broke the silence that followed his question. “If it was just money, I’d tell him to go to hell, too. But it’s not, is it?”

“It’s about the things and places he knows matter most to us.” J.T. sounded grim.

“Part of Harry’s demand was that the brides not know our identities until after we’re married. How are you going to find a marriageable woman in Seattle who doesn’t know you’re rich, Justin?” Gray asked.

“I’ve been out of state for most of the last eighteen months, plus I’ve never been as high-profile as the rest of you,” Justin said.

“Yeah, right,” J.T. scoffed. “There isn’t a single one of us who hasn’t had our picture in the paper or a magazine.”

“But not as often as Harry,” Gray said. “He’s the public face of HuntCom. I’ve got to give the old man credit, he deflected as much publicity from us as he could.”

“True,” Justin agreed. “So how about it, Gray? Are you in?”

Alex knew Gray could be as stubborn as Harry. “Face it, Gray. Harry holds all the cards.”

“He always has.” Gray sighed audibly. “This totally sucks, but if we can come up with a way to tie Harry’s hands in the future, then I guess I’m in.”

By the time they finished their call, Alex was already thinking of ways he could fulfill his part of their strange bargain and begin his own hunt for Cinderella.

Chapter One

Six weeks later…

Alex looked around his new apartment with satisfaction. This place, with its nondescript decor and discount-house furniture, was a far cry from his pad in the city, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t need fancy digs. Never had. The only reason he lived where and how he did was because it was expected of him in his position as the director of the Harrison Hunt Foundation.

Thinking about the foundation, he frowned. He’d put out every fire, assigned as many tasks as he could to others and taken care of everything else he could think of before telling his staff he was taking an extended leave of absence. And he knew his assistant, Martha Oliver, affectionately called Marti by all who knew her well, could be trusted to handle ninety-nine percent of anything else that might come up.

But it was that other one percent that worried Alex. Still, he was only a ninety-minute drive from downtown Seattle, and in an emergency, Marti could reach him on his cell and know he’d come as soon as possible. In fact, she’d been texting him religiously, keeping him up to date on everything. Alex made a mental note to give her a hefty bonus when this situation was finally resolved and he was back to work. Which, he hoped, would be soon.

He knew there was no reason to worry. Things would be fine while he was gone. He reminded himself that all he had to do was quickly find a suitable woman to marry, and he might not have to be away from the foundation for long at all.

Alex was not arrogant or vain. But he wasn’t unaware of his appeal. All his life he’d been told he was good-looking and wherever he went women made eye contact and flirted. So if he found someone who interested him and that he felt his father and his Aunt Cornelia would approve of, he suspected all he’d have to do was go through the motions women expected from a suitor.

After he and his brothers had decided to go along with Harry’s edict, Alex had given considerable thought to his strategy in the campaign to find the kind of wife he wanted. What he’d decided was he would never be able to do so while continuing to work at the foundation. He needed to go somewhere he wasn’t known and he needed to be working at an ordinary job with ordinary people.

Then he thoroughly researched Harry’s various holdings and narrowed them down to the one where he thought he might not stick out like a sore thumb. He told his father he wanted a position at their distribution center in Jansen, an hour and a half drive from Seattle—just south of Olympia. He already knew most folks in Jansen watched Portland television stations and read the Portland newspaper, so they’d be unlikely to recognize him from any of the publicity photos tied to the Hunt Foundation. And if anyone did recognize him, he’d simply say he was always being mistaken for one of the Hunt brothers.

Alex didn’t think he had to worry. He had always tried to keep a low profile. He hated society bashes and disliked the club scene. If not for the foundation and its work, he doubted anyone would ever recognize him as belonging to the Hunt family.

Today would be the true test, though, because in less than forty-five minutes, he would begin his new job at HuntCom’s main distribution center.

New job.

New apartment.

And new name.

He’d also decided that for the duration of his “hunt” he would be known as Alex Noble. It would be different if he were going to go to work somewhere that wasn’t associated with HuntCom, but at the distribution center there was no way he could be Alex Hunt without someone questioning the coincidence of the shared name.

So he’d decided on Noble, which was the surname of a previous stepfather. Alex’s mother, Lucinda Parker Hunt Noble Fitzpatrick, was on her third marriage and Alex had once cynically figured it wouldn’t be her last, although he’d finally conceded that maybe Terrence Fitzpatrick was the real deal. He and Alex’s mother had recently celebrated their twenty-fourth wedding anniversary.

There were things about Terrence Alex didn’t like, namely his penchant for thinking money could solve any problem, but he’d done one thing right. He’d given Alex a much-loved younger sister, Julie, although Terrence was doing his level best to spoil her with the enormous amounts of money and gifts he lavished upon her.

Thinking about Julie and her recent escapades, Alex frowned. He wished he could get through to her, but she laughed off his concern, telling him he was “stodgy” and “old-fashioned” and had forgotten what it was like to be young.

Her scorn, even though delivered with affection, had hurt. Alex didn’t think he was stodgy. He was just sensible and practical. So he didn’t worship at the altar of money and power. Did that mean there was something wrong with him? He guessed in his little sister’s crowd, it probably did.

He was still thinking about Julie when he pulled into the employee parking lot at the HuntCom Distribution Center. But when he emptied his pockets and passed through security, he deliberately put her out of his mind. Today he couldn’t afford to be distracted by Julie or anything else. He would need all his wits about him to pull off a successful masquerade.

It took an hour to fill out necessary paperwork and watch an orientation film in the human resources department, but by nine o’clock—he was on the first shift which began at eight in the morning—the HR manager’s assistant, who made a point of telling him her name was Kim, walked him down to the gigantic storage center, which was a beehive of activity.

Alex couldn’t help grinning when a young girl with purple spiked hair whizzed by them on roller blades. At his quizzical look, Kim said, “That’s Ruby. She’s also a picker.”

Alex frowned. “Picker?”

“Sorry. Merchandise rep. Same job you’re going to do. You know, pick the merchandise from the shelves so it can be shipped to the company or person who placed the order.”

“Ah.” It amused Alex to think what his colleagues at the foundation would say if they could see him now. Most, he knew, were in awe of him. After all, he was one of the mighty Hunts. They respected him, because he worked as hard or harder than they did, and they knew he cared about the work they were doing, but they still couldn’t manage to treat him the way they treated the others on staff. To them, he was out of their league.

“I’m sure you’ll be great at the job,” Kim said, giving him an admiring glance.

Alex wasn’t interested; he’d seen her wedding band. So all he said was, “Hope so.”

She led Alex toward a cluster of several people who seemed to be arguing about something. When they spied him, the conversation abruptly stopped and a young woman—a very attractive young woman, Alex noticed—with wildly curly red hair tied back with a navy-blue ribbon and dressed in snug jeans and a white blouse open at the throat, broke away from the group and strode toward them. Very blue eyes filled with intelligence gave him a quick assessment before turning their intensity on Kim.

“Um, P.J.,” she said, “this is Alex Noble, the new member of your crew. Alex, this is P.J. Kincaid, the floor supervisor.”

Alex wondered if P.J. had adopted initials in lieu of her first name for the same reason J.T. had adopted his, because she hated her given name. J.T. had said Jared was a sissy name and he would kill anyone who insisted upon using it.

“Hello,” P.J. said, thrusting out her right hand. “Welcome to HuntCom.”

Alex took her hand and gave it a firm shake. Hers was just as firm. “Hello,” he said.

“Good luck,” Kim said. She smiled at him, then turned and walked off.

When Alex’s attention returned to P.J., her eyes met his squarely. Something about their steady scrutiny disturbed Alex. Did she suspect something? He forced himself not to drop his gaze.

“I’m told you have experience,” she said.

Yes, that was definitely a hint of doubt in her voice. Deciding brevity was his best bet, Alex nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“And you worked…where…before?”

Sticking to what it said on his fake résumé, Alex answered, “At a warehouse in Sacramento.”

She looked at him thoughtfully. “What kind of products?”

“Household appliances.”

Her eyes remained speculative. “Why’d you leave?”

He made his voice light. “Couldn’t very well commute from here.”

She nodded, but instinct told him she wasn’t completely buying his story. “You’ve completed all your paperwork?”

“Yes.”

“Had your physical and drug testing?”

“Yes.” That wasn’t true, but on paper, it said Alex had done so and passed.

“So…you ready to go to work?”

“Yes, I am.”

Turning, she gestured to one of the men in the group still gathered nearby. “Rick.”

A dark-haired, dark-eyed man Alex judged to be in his late twenties or early thirties walked toward them. Like P.J. and Alex and almost everyone Alex had seen so far, except for the employees of the HR department, he wore jeans. His black T-shirt hawked a Red Hot Chili Peppers concert.

“Rick,” she said, “this is Alex Noble. You’ll be training him.” Meeting Alex’s eyes again, she said, “Alex, this is Rick Alvarado. He’s been with the company seven years and can answer any questions you might have.”

The two men shook hands. Rick’s eyes were friendly. Alex liked him immediately and sensed he could turn out to be a friend.

“Follow me,” Rick said. “I’ll give you a tour of the place so you can get a general idea of where everything is stored.” He kept up a running commentary as they headed down the nearest aisle. “You know much about the company, Alex?”

Alex nodded. “Quite a bit. I researched it when I knew I was going to be working here.”

“So you know old man Hunt started out by coming up with a new software and things escalated from there?”

Alex nodded.

“Now we manufacture just about everything in the computer field,” Rick continued. “We have over three thousand products that we ship from this location.”

“That many?” Alex said, although he’d already known this.

“Keeps us hopping 24/7. We run three shifts. Eight to four, four to twelve, twelve to eight. Lots of the guys like the afternoon and night shifts, but me, I like days.’ Course, I work the other shifts anytime they need extra hands,’ cause it’s overtime, and with three little girls and a wife who likes to give those old charge cards a workout…” He laughed. “I can always use the money.”

“Three little girls, huh?”

Rick grinned. “Yeah, we had ’em pretty close together. My oldest is eight, the youngest is four.” Pulling a wallet from his hip pocket, he took out several photos. “I’ll only do this once,” he promised, handing Alex the pictures.

Alex smiled at the likenesses. All three girls had curly dark hair and dark eyes. “They sure are cute.”

“Yeah,” Rick said proudly. “They’re good kids, too. Maria, she’s been a stay-at-home mom, but in September Jenny, she’s the youngest, starts school, so Maria’s going to go back to work.”

“What does she do?” Alex asked politely.

“She’s a preschool teacher. She’ll be teaching at Jenny’s school.”

By now, they’d stopped in a densely stocked aisle.

“You don’t have to remember everything I’m gonna show you,” Rick said. “I’m just giving you an overview. You’ll get a diagram of the place and a product list showing where each of the different products can be found. It’ll take you a while, but after a couple of weeks, you’ll be an old pro at this.”

Alex hoped so. The last thing he wanted to do was fuel that doubt he’d seen in his new boss’s eyes. He was going to have a hard enough time of it remembering to keep in character without worrying about keeping her happy, too. “This place is huge. Do we fill orders from all over or just in certain areas?”

“The center’s divided into four quadrants,” Rick said. “Our unit fills orders for Quad B. I’ll show you. We’ll walk the whole quad. Actually, you’ll probably want to become familiar with all the quads eventually.”

“Why is that?”

“Sometimes certain products sell heavily, like when we’re running a special promotion or something, and you might be asked to fill in at one of the other quads.”

Alex nodded. That made sense. “Does P.J. supervise all the quads?”

Rick nodded. “Yep. She’s the boss. Only one higher than her here is Steve Mallery, the GM.”

Just then, the girl with the purple hair skated by.

“Ruby,” Alex said.

Rick laughed. “You know about her, huh?”

“The clerk who brought me down from HR told me her name.”

“Ruby looks like a punk rocker with those tattoos and all the body piercings, but she’s okay. She’s one of our best pickers.”

“I admit I was surprised to see the roller blades.”

“A couple of the kids use them. Wish I could skate. I’d wear ’em, too. You can sure get around faster. But I’d probably kill myself. Or if not that, break a leg or something.”

“I know what you mean,” Alex said, although he prided himself on being physically fit. Still, he wasn’t a skater. Never had been.

Rick smiled and turned his attention back to the merchandise. “Okay, Alex, lesson number one. Here’s how we stock the products….”

Frat boy.

It was the first thing P.J. thought when she was introduced toAlex. What was he doing there? All P.J.’d had to do was look at him to know he didn’t belong. He was too good-looking and way too polished. His hands alone told the story. No calluses. No rough skin. Clean, manicured nails. Long, elegant fingers.

And then there were his teeth. P.J. always noticed people’s teeth, for they indicated class and financial status more than anything else. And Alex’s teeth were gorgeous—straight and white. Obviously, they’d been well cared for.

She wondered if he’d once held a top-level job, maybe lost it due to drugs or alcohol. Or maybe he’s a corporate spy, sent here to find out if we’re doing a good job. If I’m doing a good job.

The thought was sobering. It also pissed her off. Because P.J. worked hard, harder even than her crew. She had to. She was a woman supervising mostly men. She constantly had to prove herself.

Geez, if corporate wanted to know what was going on here, all they had to do was talk to Steve, or better yet, be above board and come and observe the center openly. They’d soon see what a tight ship she ran.

Well, she’d keep a close eye on Alex Noble. And if he was a spy, she’d soon find out. In the meantime, she wouldn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. And yet, even as she was telling herself all of this, she couldn’t deny the frisson of attraction she’d felt when they shook hands. Acknowledging this, she was infuriated with her body’s betrayal.

What’s wrong with you? Alex Noble was so not the kind of man she wanted in her life. Ever since she was old enough to know better, she’d envisioned herself with a man who held the same beliefs she did: say, a union boss or champion of migrant workers. Someone she could respect and admire for his ideas and not how well he filled out a pair of jeans.

Certainly not for his sexy dimples or his thick, wavy hair or his dark-chocolate eyes.

Dark chocolate!

Had she really thought that?

But even as she chastised herself for the gushy term, she knew it applied. His eyes really had reminded her of dark chocolate. Sweet, melt-in-your-mouth dark chocolate. The kind of eyes a woman could lose herself in. Just remembering the way he’d looked at her gave her a funny feeling in her stomach.

Oh, man, Kincaid, you’ve been celibate way too long. You really need to get laid.

“P.J.”

P.J. jumped.

“You looked like you were miles away. I called your name twice.”

The speaker was P.J.’s best friend at work—Anna Garcia. Actually, for the past six years, Anna had been P.J.’s best friend, period. P.J. smiled at the pretty brunette. “What’s up?”

“We having lunch together today?”

“Sure.”

“Great. Want to eat in the cafeteria or outside?”

“It’s a nice day. Let’s eat outside.” When the distribution center had been built, HuntCom had made sure the area surrounding was beautifully landscaped and that there were pockets of trees and flower beds interspersed with walkways and areas with picnic tables. Employees were urged to use the grounds on their breaks, although the smokers grumbled that there were too few places for them to indulge in their habit. Although P.J. didn’t admire many corporate titans—she’d grown up around too many of them—Harrison Hunt actually seemed to care about his employees.

Be fair. So does Dad.

Well, yes, her own father also treated his employees fairly and sometimes even generously. But he and Harrison Hunt seemed to be the exceptions.

After Anna had headed back to the mailing center, which she supervised, P.J. printed out the newest batch of orders that had come through in the past hour. After sorting them, she handed the orders for Quads A, C, and D to Chick Fogarty, her assistant, to distribute, then walked toward aisle 24, where they stocked some of the peripherals in their inventory. She knew this was where Rick would have started Alex’s training.

Sure enough, the two men were standing in front of the section where the eighteen different mouses they sold were stored, and although P.J. stood well back as she watched, she could hear Rick naming them as he pointed out how they were arranged by model number.

“I can’t believe there are so many different kinds,” Alex was saying. “Do we really sell all of them?”

“Yeah, we do,” Rick answered. “Hey, I personally have three at home. A wireless, a basic USB plug-in, and a mini for when I travel. You got a computer?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah. I bought myself a laptop last year.”

“One of ours?”

“Uh, no. I guess I shouldn’t say that too loud.”

“Not if you don’t want the boss lady to hear.” Rick glanced over at P.J. and grinned. “’Course, it’s too late. She already did.”

Alex whipped around.

P.J. almost laughed at the guilty expression on his face. Walking over to them, she said, “It’s okay, Alex. Buying a Hunt computer is not a prerequisite for working here. However, we do give a hefty discount to our employees, so if you decide to upgrade or buy something else in our product line, you’ll save quite a bit of money.”

Deciding Rick had everything under control, P.J. handed him half the stack of new orders. “You can get started on these whenever you feel Alex is ready.”

Rick gave her a salute. “Okay, boss.”

Alex’s eyes met hers briefly before he looked away. And once again, P.J. felt that unwelcome spark of awareness and attraction.

She frowned. Damn. She had to get control of herself and quit acting like a silly teenager.

Quickly striding away, she decided the best thing for her would be to give Alex Noble a wide berth. A really wide berth. On the other hand, that wouldn’t be the best thing for HuntCom.

In fact, she should probably keep a close eye on him these first few weeks. Make sure he was actually doing the job he’d been hired to do.

But for the rest of the morning, she kept her distance. She would quiz Rick later, see what he thought. Maybe she was just paranoid about Alex because he was so attractive. Face it, she chided herself, you’ve been exposed to too many good-looking, self-centered, arrogant men in your lifetime and now you think they’re all like that.

Maybe Alex Noble would prove to be the exception.

Yeah, right.

But P.J. wasn’t going to hold her breath.

Chapter Two

“I thought there was a hiring freeze.”

P.J. made a face. “Yeah. That’s what I thought, too.” She and Anna were just finishing up lunch.

Anna popped the last bite of her tuna-fish sandwich into her mouth, then wiped her mouth with her napkin. “But Jimmy said you’ve got a new picker.”

P.J. nodded.

“So what’s the deal?”

“You tell me.”

“Me?” Anna laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Well, you usually hear all the gossip, so I thought if anyone would know what’s going on, you would,” P.J. pointed out. That was the other thing about Alex Noble—maybe even the most important thing—the fact he’d been foisted on her without any warning.

“I haven’t heard a word,” Anna said. “Not a peep.” She reached for a plastic bag filled with cut-up apple.

P.J. polished off her turkey sandwich, accompanied by a handful of potato chips—she was a junk-food addict, much to her mother’s chagrin. “Not even from Ben?” Ben Garza was the HR Director and he’d had a thing for Anna for a while.

Anna made a face. “I’ve been avoiding Ben.”

P.J. refrained from saying something trite like you could do worse. She knew how sick she was of people trying to pair her off with guys who didn’t interest her in the slightest. Still, she almost felt sorry for Ben. He wasn’t the best-looking guy in the world, but he had a good job and he seemed really decent. But Anna simply wasn’t interested. She’d gone out with him twice and told P.J. that the thought of going to bed with him actually turned her stomach.

“So what’s he like?”

“The new guy?”

Anna laughed. “Yes, P.J., the new guy.”

P.J. frowned and finished chewing and swallowing before answering. “I don’t know. He doesn’t seem to belong here.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s too good-looking. Too…sophisticated or something.”

Anna chewed thoughtfully on a piece of apple. “Tina said he’s a hunk.”

“Tina? When did she see him?”

“She snuck down to your area earlier this morning. Said she wanted to check him out.” Anna grinned. “We don’t get that many eligible guys here. Handsome eligible guys. Every woman in the place is going to be checking him out. Maybe they already have.” Anna’s grin turned sly. “So if you want him, P.J., you’d better stake your claim early.”

“Want him? I have absolutely no interest in Alex Noble. Believe me, he’s not my type.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I told you. He’s too good-looking.” The truth was, Alex looked like he belonged in her sisters’ crowd. The country club, golf and tennis crowd. The Armani crowd. The kind of men P.J. had wanted to get away from.

“Tina says he looks like Colin Firth.”

“Who the hell is Colin Firth?” Irritation made P.J.’s voice increase in volume.

Anna looked at her as if she’d suddenly grown two heads. “You mean there’s a female alive on this earth who doesn’t know Colin Firth?” Her voice was laced with astonishment.

“What is he? A movie star? You know I don’t pay attention to those people.” In P.J.’s opinion, movie stars were only a cut above rock stars, and P.J. considered them the armpit of the universe, with no redeeming social value whatsoever.

Anna sighed. “Honey, Colin Firth is way more than a movie star. He’s the most gorgeous guy to come along in years. He’s British and has one of those upper-crust accents that is sooo sexy. He also has dreamy dark eyes, he’s tall, and he lives in a villa in Tuscany.” She sighed again. “Unfortunately, he’s married.”

P.J. rolled her eyes. Honestly, even sensible Anna could be an airhead at times. “Alex Noble isn’t that good-looking.”

“No? Well, with your ideas about men, I don’t think I can trust your judgment, P.J. I think I’ll have to have a look myself.”

P.J. abruptly stood and began clearing up her trash. “Oh, for God’s sake. Come and drool all over him. I certainly don’t care. Just make sure you don’t distract him from his work.”

“Somebody certainly is testy all of a sudden,” Anna said, giving P.J. a knowing look.

P.J. knew she’d overreacted, and for the life of her, she didn’t know why. All she knew was, she was heartily sick of the subject of Alex Noble.

Alex was beat.

He’d thought he was in great physical shape. Hell, he worked out three times a week at the gym and played tennis at least three times a week. But he had a soft job at the foundation, mainly sitting on his butt. And today, for the first time since he’d spent a summer building houses with Habitat for Humanity, he’d done physical labor, with lots of stretching, kneeling and lifting. He’d used muscles he hadn’t even known he had. So by the time four o’clock rolled around, he was more than ready to leave.

Other than that, he was satisfied with how the day had gone. He found it interesting seeing how many orders came through during his shift and how much work was involved in filling them and getting the merchandise shipped out. Although before he started this job, he’d studied the numbers associated with HuntCom and its myriad arms, actually seeing all the products they manufactured and sold was a real eye-opener.

Whether you worshiped at the altar of money and power or not, you had to admire what Harry had accomplished. It wasn’t as if he’d come from money. Just the opposite, in fact. Alex’s Hunt grandparents had been squarely middle-class. His grandfather Hunt owned a small hardware store; his grandmother had been a stay-at-home mom.

And Harry had been a too-tall, just-this-side-of-weird, geek.

Yet look what he’d accomplished. He’d developed ground-breaking software that had changed the personal computer industry practically overnight and followed that by designing cutting edge hardware that was as good as or better than anything else on the market.

Now he was worth billions.

And he employed thousands of people.

Alex had met a couple of dozen of those people today. Among them several attractive women. Two of those women seemed promising as far as his bride hunt went—one worked in the mail room, one was a picker from a different quad—although he’d have to know more about both of them before he could make any kind of decision. After all, he was talking about the future mother of his children.

Too bad P.J. Kincaid didn’t have a more agreeable personality, because she was definitely the most intriguing of the women he’d met. But she hadn’t even made his short list. He didn’t have time to win over someone who obviously didn’t like him.

She’d certainly made no secret of her feelings. In fact, as the day wore on, she’d seemed to be more suspicious of him rather than less, even though he’d worked hard and given her no cause to look at him the way she had.

What was her problem, anyway?

Why did she seem to always be watching him?

Alex knew she’d asked Rick about him, because he’d seen the two of them talking and Rick kept glancing Alex’s way the whole time. In some ways, this amused Alex, because Rick was obviously not the cloak-and-dagger type. In other ways, it didn’t amuse Alex at all.

Alex didn’t think P.J. could possibly know who he was or why he was there, so why was she acting so weird? Was it because she hadn’t hired him? Did she resent the fact he’d been presented to her as a fait accompli? Alex grimaced. He’d bet that was it. She felt he’d been pushed on her. Well, in that case, maybe he could change her mind about him.

Question was, did he want to?

The minute P.J. closed her apartment door behind her, she began stripping off her clothes. Today more than any other, she felt the need to get outside and work the kinks out. She could hardly wait to put on her running clothes and shoes and hit the park.

A scant ten minutes later, she was in her bright-blue Miata convertible—top down, breeze ruffling her hair—and heading for the Jansen River and the park that had been built along its banks. Washington State looked beautiful in late summer, she thought, with its riot of colorful flowers and lush green lawns. People complained about all the rain they got, but without the rain, the landscape would be as brown as California’s. As she drove along, idly enjoying the scenery, her mind once again drifted to her new employee.

Just as Anna had predicted, throughout the afternoon, at least half a dozen women from different departments at the distribution center had come, on the flimsiest of excuses, to check out Alex Noble.

One of them, Carrie Wancheck, a twenty-one-year-old who worked in payroll, hadn’t even bothered with an excuse. She’d grinned at P.J., saying in a stage whisper, “I just wanted to see the hunk everyone’s talking about.”

“He’s too old for you,” P.J. had snapped.

Carrie’s smile was knowing. “I like older men. They’re usually the best lovers.”

P.J. had had to force herself not to say anything else, because she realized it might sound as if she were jealous or something. Jealous! Nothing could be farther from the truth. She had absolutely no interest in Alex Noble. None. Zero. Nada. But she knew how the women at the center could be. If you said you weren’t interested in someone, they immediately thought you were lying. Especially when the man in question was as attractive as Alex Noble.

So she’d kept quiet and silently fumed instead. Dammit. She needed this kind of distraction in her department like she needed a hole in the head. If they were going to palm off a new employee, the least they could have done was make him homely.

And the women in her own department were the worst of all! Even Ruby, who was only nineteen and a year out of high school, had hung around Alex to the point where P.J. had to say something to her. P.J. had wanted to add that she didn’t think a man like Alex would be interested in a kid with purple spiked hair, five earrings on each ear, and a rose tattoo down her right arm, but despite her appearance, Ruby was a nice kid, and P.J. liked her, so she just sighed and told Ruby to get back to work, then watched the girl skate away.

She was so engrossed in thinking about Alex Noble and the disruption he’d caused today that she almost passed up the entrance to the park.

Hitting the brakes, she managed to slow down in time to turn onto the driveway. Five minutes later, settled into a nice easy jogging rhythm, she finally managed to put Alex Noble and the rest of the irritations of the day out of her mind.

Just as he had taken off his clothes and was heading into the shower, Alex’s cell phone rang. He thought about ignoring it, then sighed, reached for it and looked at the caller ID. It was his sister Julie.

“Hey,” he said. “I hope this doesn’t mean you’re in trouble again.”

“Hey, yourself,” Julie said, her voice filled with amusement. “Why would you assume I’m in trouble? Can’t I just call to say hello?”

“Yes, but you rarely do.”

“Now Alex…is that nice?”

Alex chuckled. Deciding this call might take awhile, he grabbed a towel from the towel rack and, tucking the phone under his chin, wrapped the towel around himself, then sat on the rim of the tub to continue the conversation. “So if you’re not in trouble, what’s up, Jules?”

“I called to invite you to my birthday bash.”

“That’s right. You have got a birthday coming up soon.”

“Don’t pretend you forgot.”

Alex smiled. They both knew he never forgot her birthday. In fact, he’d already bought her gift— earrings and a matching bracelet designed by a local artist who worked in silver and semi-precious stones. The moment Alex had spied the pair set with deep-blue tourmalines, he’d known they were perfect for his sister, whose eyes were an exact match. “So where’s the party going to be?”

“Well, believe it or not, it’s going to be at the house.”

“That’s certainly different.” Usually Julie’s parties took place at one of the many clubs she and her friends frequented.

“Mom insisted.”

“And bribed you how?”

Julie laughed. “I want a new car.”

“A new car?” Alex said in disbelief. “Your Mini Cooper is only two years old.”

“I know, but I’m tired of it.”

Alex mentally shook his head. He remembered how Julie had wheedled when she’d wanted that car. “So what do you want now?”

“I saw this really gorgeous black Lotus—”

“Lotus! Geez, Jules, you’re talking, what, sixty thousand or more?”

“Daddy can afford it.”

“That’s not the point. You don’t need a car like that.”

“Need has nothing to do with it.”

Alex sighed. She was so damn spoiled. There was no doubt in his mind that his stepfather would buy her the Lotus.

“Anyway, will you come to my party?”

“When is it?”

“On my birthday. It’s a Friday, so that works out great. Seven o’clock. You can bring a date, too, if you want.”

“No date.”

“But you’ll be there, right?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Mom’ll be happy.”

Alex grunted. His mother had been attempting for a long time to get back into his good graces, but no matter how she tried to make it up to him, Alex found it almost impossible to forget that when he was only two years old, she’d given custody of him to Harry.

Hell, every single one of Harry’s wives had sold out for money. Although he and his half-brothers rarely talked about it, Alex couldn’t help but think Justin, J.T. and Gray had been just as affected by their mothers’ abandonment as Alex had. Because what else could you call it when your mother took money in exchange for giving sole custody of you to your father?

At least Alex, as the next to youngest, had only had to get used to one stepmother—Justin’s mother—and she hadn’t lasted all that long. Gray, on the other hand, had gone through three stepmothers, all of whom had a short shelf life with Harry. No wonder Gray was so mistrustful of women.

It was pretty sad, but the only stable female influence in their lives was their Aunt Cornelia. And she wasn’t technically their aunt at all, even though they’d referred to her that way all their lives. She was actually the widow of Harry’s best friend, and it was Alex’s private belief that Harry had been in love with Cornelia for years.

As Julie continued to chatter excitedly about the car she coveted, Alex wondered if it would do any good for him to talk to his stepfather about her. Alex didn’t want his sister to turn out like their mother, and indulging her the way her father did wouldn’t encourage her to be any different.

But as much as he wanted to do something, he knew he’d better not. Terrence would get his hackles up if Alex said anything to him. No sense causing any more tension in the family.

When Julie wound down, they said their goodbyes—Julie exacting one more promise from Alex that he’d be at her party—and Alex tossed the towel he’d been wearing onto the towel rack. He started to step into the tub when he suddenly changed his mind. Even though he was tired, he knew he’d feel better if he got some real exercise today. Something to unkink his muscles and blow the stink off. After that he could come home and shower and crash with a beer and dinner.

Twenty minutes later, dressed in shorts, a Coldplay T-shirt Julie had given him along with their newest CD, and his cross-trainers, he pulled into Jansen Park. Although running wasn’t his favorite activity, in the absence of a tennis partner, it would do. He still hadn’t found a gym to join, but he hoped to remedy that soon, too.

He was about halfway through his run when one of the runners coming toward him from the opposite direction looked familiar to him. As she got closer, he realized it was his boss, the prickly P.J. Kincaid.

Well, well.

His gaze took in the riot of red hair inadequately held back by a sweatband, her perspiration-soaked white T-shirt that had molded to her rounded breasts, the navy-blue running shorts that showed off her nice firm butt, and her long, shapely legs with their well-defined calf muscles. Prickly or not, she sure was easy on the eyes.

He knew the exact moment when she realized who he was. Her eyes widened, her nice, even rhythm faltered, and she nearly stumbled.

Recovering quickly, she stopped, and when her breathing had slowed enough to speak, she said, “Hello, Alex.”

“Hi.” Alex mopped his brow with the towel he’d thrown around his neck.

“So you’re a runner, are you?”

Damn, those blue eyes of hers were unnerving. “Not much of one, I’m afraid.”

She shrugged. “You’re here.”

“I need the exercise. You run here a lot?”

“Every day.”

No wonder she looked as good as she did. “How far does this trail go?” he asked to distract himself from just how good she looked.

“If you go all the way around, it’s exactly five miles.” Now her gaze held a challenge. “You plan to do the whole trail?”

“I thought I would,” he said, although he hadn’t planned anything of the kind.

“Good.” She looked at her black sports watch. “Well, I’d better get going. I’m meeting my sister for dinner at seven and if I don’t hurry, I’ll be late.” She gave him a wave as she set off. “See you tomorrow.”

Alex couldn’t help it.

Instead of continuing on his way immediately, he watched her. Yes, she certainly did have a nice butt. In fact, it was one of the nicest butts he’d seen in a long time. It would fit very nicely in a man’s hands.

And those legs!

Alex couldn’t stop himself from imagining those legs twined around a man when making love.

It was at that moment Alex decided maybe he’d forget about playing tennis and joining a gym. Maybe running here in the evenings was a much more sensible choice.

Chapter Three

P.J. wanted to turn around and look back in the worst way. Yet the last thing, the very last thing she wanted was for Alex Noble to think she was interested in him like the rest of those silly women at work.

Because she wasn’t.

Not at all.

But, she thought grudgingly, she had to admit he was good to look at. Idly, she wondered how tall he was. At least six-two or six-three, she imagined. P.J. had always had a thing for tall men. Maybe that was because at five-seven she was on the tall side herself. And the rare times she got dressed up, she liked wearing three-inch heels. She also liked looking up when she was with a man. No Katie Holmes–Tom Cruise thing for her!

Will you stop it? Alex Noble is not in the running as an escort or anything else. Remember that. He’s an employee. Your employee. So even if you were interested—and you’re not!—you don’t date employees.

Ever.

Yet no matter how many times she told herself to stop thinking about Alex, she couldn’t seem to wipe the image of him in those shorts and that T-shirt that defined his well-developed pecs out of her mind.

She thought about him all the way back to her condo. She thought about him as she took a quick shower. She thought about him as she dressed to meet Courtney. And she was still thinking about him as she walked into Mackey’s Bar and Grill in beautiful downtown Webber—which was halfway between Seattle proper and Jansen—at exactly one minute to seven.

Courtney was already there and had secured a booth. She grinned at P.J. and stood to give her a hug. Courtney had inherited their mother’s blond hair and green eyes, whereas P.J.’s coloring came from her Grandmother Kincaid. As always, Courtney looked bandbox perfect in creamy linen cropped pants, a short-sleeved black silk summer sweater, and black espadrilles. P.J. couldn’t help but notice the beautifully manicured toenails and fingernails sporting a summery shade of coral. In contrast, P.J.’s own nails were unpolished and desperately needed work. And her jeans and T-shirt weren’t exactly the latest fashion, either.

That’s what happens when there’s no man in your life, an insidious little voice said. You forget to pay attention to yourself. She couldn’t even use the excuse of her job, because most of the women at the center paid a lot more attention to their appearance than P.J. did.

She and Courtney had barely said their hellos and how-are-yous when their waiter approached. “What can I get you to drink?” he asked, looking at P.J.

“What have you got on draft?” she asked.

He named the brands.

“No Black Sheep?” P.J. had a weakness for good English ale.

“No, sorry.”

“Okay. I’ll have a Guinness.” She smiled at her sister after he’d left to fill her order. “What’re you drinking?”

Courtney made a face. “Ginger ale.”

Thinking her sister wasn’t having a beer because she had a fairly long drive back to Mercer Island where she and her husband had bought a new home the year before, P.J. said, “One beer should be okay. I mean, you’re going to eat before you get behind the wheel again.”

Courtney hesitated, her gaze sliding away briefly before returning to meet P.J.’s. “That’s not why I’m not drinking,” she finally said.

“Well, what then—?” P.J. stopped abruptly. She fought against feelings she’d thought she’d conquered long ago. Yet here they were again, still hurtful, still unworthy of her, especially considering how much she loved Courtney. “You’re pregnant again?” she asked softly.

Courtney nodded. “Three months.”

“Three months! And you’ve kept it a secret this long?” P.J. was proud of herself. She sounded just the way she wanted to sound—happy for Courtney and nothing else.

“I wanted to wait till I’d passed the first trimester.” Courtney’s eyes searched P.J.’s. P.J. knew Courtney was worried about how her news would affect P.J.

Reaching across the table, she took Courtney’s hand. “Are you happy about this?” Courtney and her husband already had three kids—a boy, ten, and two little girls, seven and four.

Courtney nodded. “I am. Brad…well, he wants another boy in the worst way.”

P.J. refrained from rolling her eyes or saying what she thought about Brad and his wants. In her opinion, her sister’s husband was a neanderthal. P.J. wouldn’t have put up with him for a minute, let alone the twelve years Courtney’d been married to him. For one thing, he didn’t believe in women holding jobs outside the home.

For another, he was constantly saying things like, “Honey, you wouldn’t understand that even if I did explain it,” when Courtney asked him about anything to do with his job. You’d think he was a rocket scientist, for God’s sake, when he was a lawyer.

Courtney was every bit as smart as he was, probably smarter, P.J. thought. Yet she seemed contented with Brad. His put-downs didn’t seem to bother her at all. In fact, she didn’t even seem to notice them.

To each his own, P.J. thought. Better her than me.

“Well, if you’re happy, then I’m happy for you,” she said now. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Courtney sipped at her ginger ale and eyed her sister over the rim of her glass.

P.J. knew she wanted to say something. To prevent yet another conversation about P.J.’s situation, she hurriedly asked, “Do Mom and Dad know?”

“Not yet.”

“You mean, you’re telling me before you told them?”

“You’re my favorite sister, you know that.”

They smiled at each other, and P.J. forced herself to remember how lucky she was. She might not ever be able to have any children of her own, and she might have repudiated her family’s money and her status as an heiress, but that didn’t mean she didn’t love her parents and siblings. And she absolutely adored her nieces and nephews—Courtney’s three and soon to be four, Jillian’s two, and Peter’s two.

P.J. told herself it didn’t matter if she couldn’t have kids, because she had no intention of getting married, anyway. She’d known long ago she wasn’t cut out for marriage. In fact, she couldn’t imagine subjugating herself to a man…any man. Just the idea of a man telling her what she could and couldn’t do set her teeth on edge.

And she certainly wasn’t cut out for homemaking. Hell, she couldn’t even boil water, let alone cook. And as far as cleaning went, forget that, too. One of her indulgences was a once-a-week maid service, and even if she had to give up food, she intended to keep that.

Well, maybe that was an exaggeration. She liked food too much, especially carbs. In fact, she’d never met a carb she didn’t like. That was the biggest reason she forced herself to run five miles every day. So she could keep eating all those fries and pasta and pizza and still keep her figure.

Yet, even as she told herself all of this, she knew she might have been willing to give the marriage thing a try if not for her probable inability to have children. Providing, of course, the right man should come along.

You can always adopt.

Maybe, she thought. But there again, it would take the right kind of man. And lately, she’d begun to think he didn’t exist.

Plenty of single women adopt.

P.J. had actually considered adoption. In fact, she’d given some serious consideration to adopting an older child—one of the ones considered hard to place since everyone seemed to want babies. And maybe one of these days she’d finally get around to doing something about it.

By now the waiter had brought P.J.’s beer and the sisters had placed their orders—P.J. a steak sandwich and fries, Courtney the house specialty of coconut-crusted shrimp salad.

“P.J., you eat entirely too much junk food,” Courtney said mildly as their waiter walked off.

“I know. That’s why I run.”

“Do you ever eat a salad?”

“Sure.”

“How often, once a month?”

P.J. grinned. “You know me too well.” After taking a swallow of her beer, she said, “So you’re due in…mid-February?”

Courtney nodded. “February fourteenth, to be exact.”

“At least it’s not Christmas day.” P.J.’s birthday was two days before Christmas and she’d always hated that. “Just don’t name him Valentino or something like that.”

Courtney snorted. “Like Brad would let me.”

To keep from saying something snide about Brad, P.J. said, “So what else is new?”

“Let’s see. Um, Melissa McKee is getting a divorce.”

“You’re not serious!”

“Melissa’s the one who told me.”

“That’s a shame. I thought she and Rod had a good marriage.”

“Hey, he’ll be eligible now…” Courtney’s eyes were speculative.

P.J. knew what she was thinking. “Forget that,” she said quickly. “He’s not my type. But he’ll have no shortage of women lining up to be the next Mrs. McKee, I’m sure of that.”

Rod was a very wealthy man as well as a good-looking one. P.J. wasn’t sure what he did. Something in commodities trading, she thought. He probably had no social conscience to speak of. Definitely not her type.

Thinking that, she couldn’t help remembering she’d said the same thing about Alex Noble just today, that he was not her type, either. Something in her expression must have alerted Courtney to the direction of her thoughts because her sister said, “Wait a minute. Are you dating someone?”

“What makes you ask that?”

“You had a strange look on your face.”

“Oh, I was just thinking about a new guy who started working for me today. Anna—you’ve heard me talk about her—said something about him and I told her he wasn’t my type, either.”

“Why’d she say something about him?”

P.J. shrugged. “He’s kind of a hunk. If you like that type.”

“And what type is that?”

“Oh, you know, tall, dark, handsome.” P.J. smiled in spite of herself.

“And you don’t like that type.” Courtney shook her head, laughing. “You’re one of a kind, you know that?”

Just then the waiter came with their food, and the sisters fell silent until he was gone again.

Courtney began to cut up her salad. She speared a piece of shrimp and some lettuce leaves, but before putting them into her mouth, she said, “Maybe you should give this new guy at work a chance. Who knows? You might actually like him.”

“Who said he’s interested in me?” P.J. poured a mound of ketchup next to her fries and dipped one in.

Courtney gave her a look. “You’re a very pretty, very sexy woman. Of course he’ll be interested in you.” She forked another bite of salad into her mouth. Then she grinned. “That’s if you can keep your mouth shut.”

P.J. glared at her sister. But she couldn’t hold the expression and was soon laughing. “Yeah, that can be a problem,” she admitted. She’d run more than one guy off by expressing her opinions, which were almost always diametrically opposed to theirs.

“So tell me more about this guy,” Courtney said when their laughter subsided.

“No point. I’m not interested in him. And even if I were

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