From city girl—to corporate wife!

Working side by side, nine to five and beyond…. No matter how hard these couples try to keep their relationships strictly professional, romance is definitely on the agenda!

But will a date in the office diary lead to an appointment at the altar?

Find out in this exciting miniseries from Harlequin Romance®.

“I wondered if you did this all the time—for fun,” Darcy said.

Fleur smiled. “I’ve been here a few times.”

“So what do you do, apart from that?” he asked, pointing toward the dance floor packed with writhing bodies, and grimacing.

“Have you ever tried that?” she asked provocatively.

He took the bait. “No, but how hard can it be? Let’s go.” He grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the dance floor.

“Now, this is fun,” he said as he gyrated in time with the music, his body pressed against hers, making her wish the barrier of their clothing would suddenly disappear, leaving them in an intimate embrace of skin on skin.

She pulled away. “End of lesson number one,” she yelled above the music.

“What does lesson two entail?” he asked.

“Maybe it’s best if we save the next lesson till tomorrow?”

“Don’t be boring,” he whispered wickedly, a split second before he slanted his lips across hers.

Contract to Marry
Nicola Marsh

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Nicola Marsh says, “As a girl, I dreamed of being a journalist and traveling the world in search of the next big story. Luckily, I have had the opportunity to travel the world, but my dream to write has never been far from my mind. When I met my own tall, dark and handsome hero, and learned that romance is everything it’s cracked up to be, I finally took the plunge and put pen to paper. I live in the southeastern suburbs of Melbourne with my husband and baby son. When I’m not writing I work as a physiotherapist for a vocational rehabilitation company, helping people with disabilities return to the workforce. I also love sharing fine food and wine with friends and family, going to the movies and—my favorite—curling up in front of the fire with a good book.”

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

FLEUR ADAMS rushed into the café, trying to juggle a portfolio, laptop, umbrella and handbag while shaking raindrops from her curly hair and cursing the fickle Melbourne weather, a lousy public-transport system and men, in that order.

‘Hey, pretty lady. The usual?’ Billy winked at her from behind the counter and gave her an appreciative once-over, typical of his meet-and-greet routine with the female customers.

She smiled in gratitude as the aroma of steaming coffee and freshly baked muffins infused her senses. ‘You’re a lifesaver. Oh, and make mine a double today. I need it.’

‘Too much caffeine will get you all hyped up. So if you need to burn off any extra energy…’

‘I’ll join a gym!’

Billy’s innuendoes had initially rankled when she’d first found the coffee shop though she’d soon realised he was harmless. Besides, he made the best lattes and choc-chip muffins in Melbourne, two major reasons to tolerate his light-hearted flirtation.

‘Oh, well, can’t blame a guy for trying.’ He shrugged and turned to the espresso machine. ‘By the way, Liv’s arrived.’

‘Thanks.’ She scanned the growing lunch crowd and spotted her friend at a corner table, nose buried in the latest romance novel as usual.

Taking care not to decapitate anyone on the way to their table, Fleur slid into a vacant seat and stacked her load against a nearby wall. ‘Let me guess. The tall, dark and handsome hero is about to rip off the heroine’s bodice and thrust his—’

‘No! Romance novels aren’t bodice-rippers. They’re contemporary fiction. How many times have I told you that?’ Liv stared at Fleur over her rimless spectacles, a faint blush staining her cheeks.

Fleur grinned. ‘All those books seem the same to me. Lots of hot action, with the main protagonist being men with broad, naked chests and big—’

‘OK, you’ve made your point.’ Liv snapped the book shut and held up her hand to silence her. ‘Enough of your literary critiquing. How did the presentation go?’

Fleur’s grin faded as the memory of yet another failure flooded back. ‘Don’t ask,’ she muttered, as a waitress placed a giant glass and a muffin in front of her.

‘That good, huh?’

‘Worse.’ Fleur sipped at the latte and savoured the caffeine rush, wishing she’d never quit her reliable, reasonably paid job to chase a dream. A dream that would shortly turn into a nightmare if she didn’t acquire some new business—and soon.

‘No takers for an accountant-cum-life coach destined to revamp businesses and take them into the twenty-first century, huh?’

Fleur shook her head. ‘Not one. Seems like the terms “emotional intelligence” and “compliant oriented teaming” are just too modern for the average CEO. Though one of the senior execs I met this morning did give me a card and encouraged me to call, though I doubt he was interested in anything to do with emotions or intelligence, the way he kept looking at my legs.’

‘Yeuk! Sexist pig.’

‘He wasn’t all that awful, actually…’

Liv’s eyes widened. ‘Now I know you’re in a bad way, letting a lech like that get away with it.’

Fleur sighed. ‘I’m just tired of doing the promotional bit and having nothing to show for it.’ She bit into her muffin, wondering if she’d literally bitten off more than she could chew with her latest proposal.

She’d approached countless companies, many through contacts she’d gained as an accountant, to pitch her idea to them. After completing a part-time degree in psychology, which she’d initially undertaken to break out of the conservative-accountant-stereotype mould, she’d come up with the brilliant concept to change the outlook of most companies, with the hope that improved job satisfaction would lead to increased profit margins. Some of her initial contacts had received the idea warmly; that was, until they actually had to commit money to the project and hire her.

Liv leaned forward. ‘Show me the promotional material you’ve been using. Maybe I can help.’

‘The way things are running at the moment, I need all the help I can get.’ Fleur unzipped her portfolio and grabbed a wad of paperwork. However, as she straightened, her head bumped an elbow and the person it belonged to stumbled against her, sending papers flying in all directions.

‘Dammit!’ a deep voice muttered somewhere in the vicinity of her ear as she bent to pick up the scattered material. ‘Here, let me do that.’

Fleur rubbed her head and straightened up, wishing the stranger had bumped her harder. That way, she could have lost consciousness and woken up hours later, when this all-round dreadful day would be over.

‘Leave it!’ she snapped, looking up at the clumsy oaf who had managed to worsen her mood, if that was possible.

‘Mmm…interesting.’ Surprisingly, the oaf wasn’t staring at her as she’d half expected. After all, she knew that many men found her attractive, though for the life of her she still hadn’t figured out why. Shoulder-length brown curly hair, brown eyes, passable figure, average height—all in all, it didn’t seem like much of a package to her but she worked it to her advantage most of the time.

Instead he stared at her brochures, flicking through each and every one with barely concealed amusement on his face.

‘If you’ve finished?’ She held out her hand, knowing she sounded petulant but not particularly caring. That was all she needed, some guy to patronise her about an idea that meant everything to her.

He looked up suddenly and fixed her with a probing stare. ‘Are you the Fleur Adams mentioned in these brochures?’

And suddenly, just like that, Fleur experienced that strange, fluttery feeling that Liv’s romance novels raved about, that once-in-a-lifetime gut-churning, toe-curling reaction that signalled the one. She gazed at the stranger, wondering at her bizarre reaction, for she wouldn’t call him drop-dead gorgeous or anything remotely as flattering. He had dark hair, blue eyes and a strong, clean-shaven jaw, with lips that were compressed in a thin, seemingly impatient line.

As she’d originally thought, nothing out of the ordinary, except for a strange aura that spelled ‘power’ and captured her attention in a way no man had in a long, long time.

‘Well?’ He quirked an eyebrow as if challenging an imbecile to answer.

Resisting the urge to shake her head and dispel the fog that seemed to have penetrated her brain, she nodded. ‘I’m Fleur Adams. And you are?’

‘Someone who is interested in what you have to offer.’

His glance flicked to the brochures briefly before returning to study her face. ‘Are you sure you’re experienced enough to be offering this kind of service?’

Oh, when it comes to you, handsome, I’ve got plenty to offer.

For a horrifying moment, Fleur thought she’d spoken aloud as his blue eyes blazed with something more than a passing interest in her business. However, it flickered and died before she could analyse it further and she quickly refocused her concentration before she blew this chance encounter completely.

Squaring her shoulders, she looked him straight in the eye. ‘I’m fully qualified, as the information you’ve just perused suggests. If you’re interested, I’d be more than happy to present my ideas to you on a more formal basis, Mr…?’

‘Darcy Howard.’ He thrust out his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you.’

Fleur had perfected a handshake for doing business, though she still felt a tad awkward when most men seemed to want to squeeze every last drop of strength out of her in order to prove some antiquated point that males were the dominant sex, in and out of the boardroom.

However, the minute she placed her hand in Darcy’s, her nerve endings did some weird short-circuiting thing that sent electrical impulses shooting up her arm. And to make matters worse, he seemed to sense it too, by the slight widening of his baby-blues.

Resisting the urge to pull back as quickly as possible, she managed a shaky smile and slid her hand out of his grasp. ‘If you give me your contact details, Mr Howard, I’ll call you to arrange a mutually convenient time to discuss your company’s needs.’

‘Call me Darcy.’ He smiled and for one, insane moment Fleur felt like jumping into the air and doing a Charlie Chaplin-like sidekick.

‘Here. You can reach me on any of those numbers.’ He handed her a business card and she resisted her first impulse to scan it and memorise every single detail about the man.

Instead, she casually placed it into her handbag as if she had enough business lined up for months. ‘Thanks, I’ll be in touch.’

He nodded before heading towards the door, leaving her gaping after the tall figure clad in a black trench coat.

‘Way to go, girl.’ Liv’s applause penetrated Fleur’s brain and she quickly sat down, trying to act as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, when, in fact, the encounter with Darcy Howard had shaken her more than she cared to admit.

‘About time I had a change in luck. Let’s hope he’s interested in what I have to offer.’

Liv picked up her novel and fanned her face. ‘Phew! Baby, is he interested!’

‘What are you talking about?’ Fleur feigned ignorance and hoped she didn’t blush.

‘In case you hadn’t noticed, that guy is gorgeous. And he seemed very interested in you.’

Fleur’s heart gave a little flip-flop of hope—maybe she hadn’t imagined the gleam in his eye? However, she inwardly groaned and resisted the urge to slap herself—what was she thinking? She should be concentrating on presenting a professional image to the man she’d just met, not entertaining ludicrous hopes about mixing business with pleasure.

She shrugged. ‘Gorgeous? You’ve been reading too many of those books again. He seemed ancient to me.’

Liv grinned, a self-satisfied smirk that told Fleur her friend knew exactly how she’d reacted to the man. ‘I thought you were into older men.’

Fleur took a long sip from her glass and tried to hide her answering smile. ‘Yeah, but I’m not into collecting antiques!’

‘Wow, he must’ve really grabbed your attention. So, when are you going to call him?’

Suddenly the implications of her predicament came flooding back and Fleur knew that, as much as her reaction to Darcy Howard disturbed her, she needed his business. Like yesterday.

‘I’ll do it first thing tomorrow.’

Liv nodded in approval. ‘Sounds like a plan. Though I wouldn’t leave it too long. Opportunities like Darcy Howard don’t come along too often.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Trust me, I should know.’

And just like that, an image of intense blue eyes boring into her flashed across Fleur’s mind, leaving her with a sudden hankering to grab hold of this opportunity and hang on for dear life.

Darcy stormed into the office and slammed the door shut behind him. Just his luck that the one day he’d managed to grab a bite to eat away from his desk in over a month, he returned to a mountain of problems.

So what’s new?

Since when had his life been anything but a never-ending list of problems—starting with his parents’ death when he’d been nineteen, assuming responsibility for raising his eleven-year-old brother, taking on a pile of debts run up by a father hell-bent on making his harebrained schemes work and, lately, trying to raise his floundering business out of a financial quagmire?

Just another day at the office, he thought, before sinking into his leather chair and scrutinising the latest batch of reports on his desk.

Despite the business acumen of his staff, the profit margins he’d predicted for the company had continued to fall at an alarming rate, leaving him in a quandary. He’d tried team-building exercises, personal pep talks and a bonus incentive scheme but nothing had worked and the strange lethargy that plagued most of his employees was starting to have disastrous consequences on the company’s bottom line.

Rubbing his forehead, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. The image of Fleur Adams popped into his head and he wondered if he was doing the right thing in considering hiring her to save his company. He’d been impressed—hell, he’d been downright flabbergasted—at the services she’d advertised in her brochures, as if she’d read his mind and known exactly what he needed to make this work.

OK, the brochures hadn’t been the only things that had impressed him. Once he’d taken the time to look at the woman whose head collided with his elbow, he’d been pleasantly surprised. A pair of worldly brown eyes had stared at him, almost startling in their clarity for one so young. He’d guessed her age to be early twenties, which was why he’d questioned her ability to deliver everything her brochures said. How could anyone so young be that experienced?

You were.

He grimaced, hoping that the lovely young woman he’d been lucky enough to bump into today hadn’t learned life’s lessons the hard way, as he had. His view of the world was far too jaded for a man of thirty-eight and there wasn’t one damn thing he could do about it. Growing up too quickly did that to a person.

Shaking his head, he resumed reading the reports on his desk and hoped that Fleur would call. If not, he’d have to come up with some other brilliant idea to make his company a viable proposition again. And hope to bump into another lady who piqued his interest as much as she had.

Fleur’s heels clicked against the polished parquetry floor as she strode towards the front desk of Innovative Imports, keeping pace with her pounding heart. She’d done at least thirty of these presentations by now and should be feeling more confident. However, she knew that her nervousness had more to do with whom she was pitching to today rather than her own material.

Strangely, the receptionist barely looked up as Fleur approached the desk. ‘Excuse me, I’m Fleur Adams and I’m here to see Darcy Howard.’

The girl glanced up, appearing harassed yet bored at the same time, if that was possible. ‘Take a seat and I’ll let him know you’ve arrived.’

Fleur smiled her thanks and received a polite nod in return before the receptionist turned away and punched numbers into a console. So much for first impressions. If this girl was any indication of the calibre of staff that the company employed, she’d have her work cut out for her. If Darcy Howard hired her, that was.

She’d barely sat down before the man in question opened a nearby door and beckoned to her. ‘Come in, Ms Adams. I’ve been expecting you.’

Fleur stood up, grabbed her portfolio and followed him into his office, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl being summoned to the principal’s office. If she thought Darcy Howard had looked intimidating the first time they’d met, it was nothing to the vibes he exuded now. Little wonder the receptionist didn’t have any spark in her; the poor thing was probably too scared to show any signs of life.

‘Please, have a seat.’ He waved towards an over-stuffed leather chair that didn’t look comfortable. ‘Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?’

‘No, thanks. And please, call me Fleur.’ She perched on the edge of the chair; as predicted, it threatened to eject a person from its shiny, over-filled surface rather than encourage sitting back and relaxing. Heck, she’d barely been here five minutes and already knew that this man needed her services to revamp every aspect of his business, from furniture to personnel.

He sat behind a monstrous mahogany desk and rested steepled fingers on his chest, reminding her once again of her old high-school principal. Next she’d be hearing, ‘Miss Adams, have you been smoking behind the shed?’ Or better still, ‘Miss Adams, your dress is far too short. Let that hem down at once!’

‘Is something funny?’

Trying to control the twitching of her lips, which threatened to break into a full-blown grin at any second, she schooled her face into a mask of professionalism. ‘Not at all. Now, where would you like me to start?’

He smiled, a small movement involving an upturning of his lips rather than a genuine happy gesture. ‘I’d like to hear what you can do for my company.’

‘That depends on you.’

‘Oh?’

How he managed to instil so much disapproval into one tiny syllable, she’d never know. However, far from being daunted, she launched into her spiel and hoped he’d buy it.

‘Mr Howard, I need to know your company’s strengths, weaknesses, opportunities and threats before I can give you an in-depth analysis of what I can offer you. Let’s begin with the stakeholders and key result areas—’

‘Let’s not,’ he interrupted, sitting forward and fixing her with a probing stare.

‘Pardon?’

He stood up and started pacing the office, drawing her attention to the designer suit encasing his toned body. For a businessman, he obviously found time to work out. Pity he couldn’t improve his personality to go with the body.

‘I don’t need some generic spiel about what you can offer the company. I’ve already read all that in your brochure and it’s exactly what I’m after.’ He stopped for a moment and sat on the corner of the desk, looking down at her. ‘Tell me about you.’

Surprised at his change of subject, Fleur tried to focus her attention on giving him a brief yet professional outline of her qualifications. However, the harder she tried to focus, the more her attention shifted to the man sitting in front of her with his crotch at eye level.

Wrenching her gaze away, she looked up at him, only to find him looking at her with those all-seeing, all-knowing blue eyes. And if she didn’t know any better, she could’ve sworn she glimpsed amusement in their depths.

Clearing her throat, she gave him the abbreviated version of what she assumed he wanted to know. ‘I’m an accountant by profession but found the job too restrictive. I completed a degree in psychology for kicks, anything to break out of the staid accountancy mould. And here I am, trying to combine the two.’

He fixed her with yet another piercing stare. ‘So what was so restrictive?’

‘Everything,’ she answered too quickly, before composing herself. ‘I mean, some people just aren’t cut out for that type of work and I’m one of them.’

He quirked an eyebrow. ‘Why?’

‘I like to live outside the box. I’ll try anything once and being an accountant, surrounded by conservative types who try their utmost to stay inside that box, just didn’t do it for me.’ The interview had taken a decidedly personal turn and, rather than being insulted, Fleur was strangely flattered that he wanted to know what made her tick.

‘Anything, huh?’ He leaned towards her and for one, insane moment she thought he might kiss her.

She nodded, wondering if she’d lost her mind and mentally cursing Liv for filling her head with romantic notions from those damn novels she read.

He stood up and extended his hand. ‘Good. In that case, you’re hired.’

Fleur managed a smile as she placed her hand in his, more prepared this time for the little jolt of electricity that shot up her arm. ‘Thanks for the opportunity. I won’t let you down.’

She wasn’t sure if he held her hand a fraction too long before dropping it. ‘How soon can you start?’

‘Whenever you want me.’

‘Tonight?’ And just like that, the air around them seemed to crackle with some indefinable force, leaving Fleur with the distinct urge to test the boundaries with her new boss.

So what if he acted as if he’d just stepped off the ark? Maybe she could help him lighten up a little and have some fun in the process.

But he’s your boss.

The thought dampened her impish side in a second. What was she thinking? She’d just landed a prime job with a large company that could set her own business on its way and what was she planning? To seduce the boss! She needed to get a life. Fast.

‘Tonight is fine. What did you have in mind?’

He turned away from her and returned to the sanctuary of his desk. ‘Why don’t we have dinner and I can fill you in on the company?’ Several papers were picked up and reshuffled, as if he didn’t care about her answer.

Fleur’s heart lurched at the thought of spending an evening with this man, who had the power to unnerve her without trying. ‘Sure. Name the place and time.’

He looked up, an expression of relief softening his hard features. ‘The Potter Lounge. At eight?’

Fleur hoped the surprise didn’t show on her face. He’d just named one of Melbourne’s stuffiest, pretentious restaurants, usually reserved for regular guests or those hell-bent on making an impression.

‘Formal or cocktail wear?’

‘Whatever takes your fancy.’ His gaze wandered down the length of her body, leaving a trail of goose pimples in its wake. ‘Though I’m sure you’d look great in anything.’

Heat flooded her cheeks, though before she could come up with an appropriate retort he stalked across the room and held the door open for her in an obvious sign of dismissal. ‘See you tonight?’

Clutching her portfolio under one arm and swinging her handbag over the other, Fleur strode past him. ‘See you then. And thanks once again for the opportunity, Mr Howard.’

‘It’s Darcy, remember?’

She managed a polite smile and nod before he shut the door.

It’s Darcy, remember?

His deep voice echoed through her mind along with every word he’d uttered in her bizarre interview. After the impression he’d just made on her, how could she forget?

CHAPTER TWO

IT HAD been a long time since Darcy had taken a woman out for dinner. His ever-increasing schedule put paid to any social life he’d once had, not that any woman had held his interest long enough for him to consider pursuing her.

Until now.

He shook his head, mentally chastising himself for allowing his thoughts to head down that track. Fleur Adams was business, not pleasure, a fact he shouldn’t forget if he wanted his company to survive.

So what if he’d already decided to hire her before the interview? He’d needed to know more about the woman who held the future of his business in her hands, besides the basics. In a way, that was what tonight would be also, another ‘get to know you’ session.

So was that why he’d picked the fanciest place to dine in town? They had to eat and he’d sooner indulge his passion for fine food and wine at a recognised establishment than some poor imitation. God, he sounded like a pompous ass at times! He would frighten the poor woman off if he spoke like that.

Funnily enough, he already had the impression that Fleur thought he was an old fuddy-duddy; that was why he’d paid her a compliment, in the hope she would realise that he wasn’t above admiring a beautiful woman when he saw one, though her reaction had intrigued him. Young women these days rarely blushed and he wondered if her feisty words about ‘trying anything once’ were merely a front of false bravado too.

Maybe he could test her out? And maybe you need your head read!

Pulling up in front of the restaurant, he handed the car keys to the valet and almost bounced up the marble steps. Whoever had invented that stupid rule about not mixing business with pleasure? Tonight, he had every intention of pushing the boundaries.

Fleur took a steadying breath, tilted her chin up and walked into the elaborate dining room of the Potter Lounge, trying not to gawk. Muted chandeliers cast a soft glow on the antique furnishings and reflected off the polished silverware, creating a warm and inviting ambiance, while the crystal wineglasses shone in the flickering candlelight.

So much for keeping her imagination grounded. This place was built for romance, not business, and she had no idea why Darcy had suggested it.

Feeling self-conscious and hoping it didn’t show, she allowed the maître d’ to guide her to their table. Not just any table, it happened to be the cosiest one set in the furthest corner of the room and shielded from prying eyes by an exquisite hand-painted Japanese screen.

‘Great,’ she muttered under her breath, knowing that spending an evening dining with her handsome new boss had just taken on a whole new meaning—in her own head.

To make matters worse, Darcy stood up as she neared the table and her heart did that weird, somersault thing it had when they first met at the café. It had nothing to do with his clothes; he’d gone for the conservative look once again with a dark designer suit, white shirt and striped tie. However, the man inside the clothes exuded some powerful brand of pheromones that called to her; she hadn’t experienced such a strong attraction in ages—if she was completely honest, probably never.

He pulled her seat out for her, a quaint, old-fashioned gesture that made her feel ultra-feminine. ‘You look beautiful,’ he murmured close to her ear as she sat down, raising her pulse another notch.

‘Thanks.’ To her annoyance, she felt heat creeping up her neck towards her cheeks. What was wrong with her? She never blushed, especially not when men paid her compliments.

‘So you decided to go with cocktail attire, huh?’

‘When in doubt, stick with the LBD.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘LBD?’

Was he kidding? Surely he couldn’t be that old?

Fleur grinned, a knowing smile that put her back on the front foot again and restored her confidence no end. ‘Little black dress. The essential of every female’s wardrobe.’

‘Ah,’ he said and nodded, as if he knew exactly what she was referring to, though by the confused look on his face, he had no idea.

‘I thought a man like you would be used to dining with a host of women in LBDs,’ she teased, hoping to lighten the mood.

‘No time.’ He gestured to a waiter hovering nearby and placed an order for champagne—of the French kind.

Something about his assumption that she drank expensive champagne or should be impressed by it grated on her nerves before she reminded herself of the purpose of the night. ‘Tell me about your company. I don’t even know what you import,’ she said.

‘Gift ware, mostly.’

‘There’s a huge market for that type of product. Why isn’t the company turning a profit?’

He shook his head. ‘If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t need to hire you.’

Her eyebrows shot heavenward at his bitter tone.

‘What I meant to say was my staff aren’t as productive as they once were. Everyone seems to be infected with this strange kind of lethargy and, despite our trying a few things, nothing has shaken them out of it.’

Fleur remembered the receptionist and her cavalier attitude and knew exactly what he referred to.

‘They used to have fun when they came to work but not any more.’

Suddenly, an image of Darcy’s stodgy office popped into her mind. ‘Do you have fun at work?’

He stared at her as if she’d spoken in some foreign language. ‘What do you mean?’

She sipped at her recently filled flute and savoured the tingle of bubbles sliding down her throat. ‘You know, the F word that people are scared to acknowledge at work. Is your work fun?’

‘Work is work. If I wanted to have fun, I’d employ a bunch of clowns.’

‘Well, maybe that’s what you need to do.’

He rubbed the bridge of his nose while she sipped at her champagne, as if what she’d said pained him. ‘Are you out of your mind?’

She sat up, suddenly businesslike. ‘No, but I’d like to plant some ideas in yours.’

She took a deep breath and hoped her new boss was ready to hear the truth. ‘OK, listen up. First impressions of your company are, quite frankly, that it’s tame, bland and boring. From the reception area to the furniture, I think you need a major overhaul. Urgently.’

Rather than appearing angry, he leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. ‘So, you think I’m boring?’

‘I was referring to your company.’ For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out which demon prompted her to add, ‘I don’t know enough about you yet to make that sort of judgement call.’

He ignored her jibe. ‘Tell me more.’

‘Most employees need to feel valued but, more importantly, they need to care enough about their job to want to excel at it.’ She paused to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, wondering if she had the courage to say exactly what she thought the problem was. ‘From first impressions, I don’t think your staff feel that way.’

‘Why?’ A frown creased his brow, adding five years onto his age and reinforcing what she was about to say.

She took several unladylike gulps of champagne, needing every ounce of fortitude she could muster. ‘Bottom line? They’re taking their cue from you.’

His frown deepened and she resisted the impulse to sink into her chair—or, better yet, slide under the table and slink out of the fancy restaurant. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

She exhaled, unaware she’d been holding her breath. ‘Well, you seem to be a bit stuck yourself.’

‘Stuck?’ His eyebrows shot upward and, if she wasn’t treading on such delicate ground, she would’ve laughed at his comical expression.

Crossing her fingers beneath the tablecloth, she continued and hoped to God she still had a job by the end of this. ‘You intimidate people. The way you look, the way you dress, how you carry yourself, all screams “unapproachable”. And if you don’t enjoy your work, how do you expect your staff to?’

She waited for the explosion. Heck, she would’ve given him a verbal spray if he’d had the audacity to tell her all that to her face after only one meeting. Instead, he leaned back, folded his arms and fixed her with a glare.

‘I can see where that psychology degree comes in handy. Now that you’ve analysed me and the company, how do you propose to sort the problem out?’

She quelled the nervous flutter within her gut. Whenever he looked at her like that, she couldn’t think straight. Something about the deep blue of his eyes had her focusing on all the wrong cues, starting with how she could lose herself in their depths.

‘That’s easy.’ She managed a smile, hoping it didn’t look more like a grimace. ‘We start at the top and work our way down.’

‘Now, that sounds like an interesting proposition.’ His eyes brightened with an almost imperceptible gleam which she recognised as interest and her heart thudded in response. For someone who appeared stuffy at first glance, he sure knew how to turn innocent words into innuendo.

‘I’d prefer to think of it as challenging. After all, you don’t strike me as the type of man who takes to change very well.’

‘I’m that easy to read, huh?’ He leaned forward, the simple act lending an immediate intimacy to the moment.

‘Call it intuition.’ She picked up the menu, needing to do something with her fiddling hands and distract her attention from his probing gaze.

To her amazement, he reached across the table and plucked the menu from her hands. ‘Let’s finish this discussion before we order. What needs to be done to turn this situation around?’

I need to run a thousand miles away from you and those damn eyes.

Maybe taking this job hadn’t been such a good idea! Sure, she was desperate for business, not to mention that wonderful commodity that made the world go round, but was it worth feeling this flustered, this unsure of herself? She’d never lacked confidence, therefore this guy’s ability to undermine her with a single glance was more than disconcerting. It was downright frightening.

‘How about I present a business plan to you over the next few days and we take it from there?’

‘But you mentioned starting at the top. I assume you meant with me.’

She nodded. ‘I have a few ideas but I’d like to interview some of your staff to get a general feel for the place before I present my plan. That’s how I usually work.’ A small white lie but she had no intention of letting him know this was her first real assignment. Besides, she’d honed her own business plan to the nth degree and knew she could handle anything her new boss had to dish out. Within reason.

‘Fine.’ He handed her the menu. ‘I look forward to hearing this master plan of yours.’

She sighed in relief, though it was short-lived.

‘Just remember, Fleur. I’m expecting big things from you. And I don’t like to be let down.’

‘You don’t need to worry,’ she said, knowing that she’d be doing enough of that for the both of them.

Darcy turned the key in the lock, surprised to find the front door to his house open. He could’ve sworn he’d locked it when he left earlier that evening. Maybe the thought of having dinner with Fleur had rattled him more than he’d anticipated?

However, as he entered the house and heard the pounding bass reverberating through the hallway, he knew why the door was unlocked.

He took the stairs two at a time, torn between wanting to hug his wayward brother and throttle him for being away so long. Sean’s bedroom door stood open, explaining the ear-splitting noise from some heavy-metal band Darcy had probably never heard of.

‘Hey, bro; long time, no see.’ Sean jumped up from the bed, piece of pizza in one hand and a beer in the other, a wide grin plastered across his face.

Darcy turned down the volume before answering. ‘Is that what you call three years? A long time?’

Sean’s smile slipped a notch. ‘Come on, man. Don’t be so…parental. Aren’t you glad to see me?’

The familiar anger surged through Darcy’s body, rooting him to the spot. He’d raised Sean from the age of eleven yet the passing years hadn’t instilled maturity into his brother. Sean had never recognised the sacrifices Darcy had made in raising him, preferring to see him as some sort of ogre rather than a caring brother who’d been thrust into the role of parent at too young an age.

If anything, Sean still lived the life of a carefree boy and it irked Darcy more than it should. Why should he be the one to always shoulder all the responsibility? Now that his brother was thirty years old, surely it was time he started acting like it?

‘Two phone calls in three years. Don’t you think I’ve earned the right to be concerned?’

Sean shook his head and took a swig from his beer. ‘I can see you haven’t changed much.’

‘Neither have you.’ Darcy clenched his fists, surprised that the years away hadn’t matured his brother. He still spoke and behaved like a wayward teenager, from his smart mouth to his taste in music. ‘So, how long are you staying around this time?’

Sean shrugged, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. ‘Who knows? I might hang out here for a while, see what Melbourne has to offer these days.’

‘How’s the cash situation?’ Darcy resisted the urge to cringe; as much as he tried, he couldn’t shake the role of a worried father, probing his son for scraps of information about his life. He knew Sean didn’t like it and he sure as hell wished he could stop it. However, it had been a habit for almost twenty years and he’d be damned if he stopped caring now.

‘Stop worrying, bro. Is it any wonder you’ve got grey hairs?’

‘I have not!’

‘Sure you have. You’ve got one, right about there.’ Sean threw the pizza crust back in the cardboard box and walked towards him, pointing to Darcy’s temple. ‘Yep, I see it. Actually, it’s more white than grey.’

‘Brat!’ Darcy swatted Sean’s hand away and finally smiled, allowing a glimmer of affection to show in his eyes.

‘Yeah, I’ve missed you too, bro.’ Sean enveloped him in a bear hug and Darcy returned it, slapping his brother on the back.

Once they’d broken apart and looked away, unsure how to break that awkward pause that inevitably accompanied men embracing each other, Darcy headed towards the door. He stopped on the threshold and looked back, happier than he’d been in a long time. ‘It’s good to have you home, Sean.’

Sean grinned, the same cheeky grin he’d had as an eleven-year-old. ‘Good to be back, even if I have to look at your ugly mug!’

Darcy pulled a face and turned away, wondering what Fleur would think if she could see him now. He’d managed to forget about their interesting evening once he’d entered the house, though the memory of her now resurfaced.

She’d looked incredible in that black dress with the neckline cut high enough to be classy yet low enough to entice. He’d been impressed, from her sleek hair—it must’ve taken her at least an hour to straighten those gorgeous curls he’d admired when they first met—to her sequined sandals and everything in between. In fact, he’d had a hard time keeping his mind on the conversation when his attention kept wandering to the ‘everything in between’.

Though he had gained one pertinent fact. The lady thought he couldn’t lighten up.

Well, he would show her.

CHAPTER THREE

THANKS to her psychology background, Fleur always analysed any date with a male, from the way he’d looked at her to what he’d said, and unfortunately her date with Darcy sent her analytical brain into overtime.

Date? Where had that come from? He’d taken her on a business dinner, not a date, and the sooner she remembered that the better.

So what if he’d plied her with fine food and wine, asking personal questions to appear as if he was genuinely interested in her? She knew what he’d been playing at—any boss worth his weight would interrogate a new employee like that, especially one who was investing so much time and money into saving his ailing company.

It wasn’t his fault that her overactive imagination had taken flight and read more into it. Despite her best intentions to appear professional, her guard had slipped several times and she’d actually found herself responding to him like a woman, not an employee. Not that he hadn’t encouraged her a tad; she could’ve sworn she glimpsed desire in his eyes several times, and each time her body had betrayed her with a hot rush of anticipation that still left her slightly breathless.

Thankfully, she hadn’t seen much of him since dinner two nights ago. Whenever she’d been interviewing his employees, he’d been holed up in his dreary office or off on some buying expedition, giving her free rein within the office and some control over her peace of mind.

However, she’d known it wouldn’t last and today she had to present her completed business plan to him, a situation which should’ve thrilled her yet didn’t. She’d done a thorough job and should be proud of herself—however, how did she tell him the truth without denting the man’s ego in the process? Or worse yet, stirring his wrath to the point where he might fire her?

She’d dressed to impress, knowing that presenting a front would be the first step in calming her nerves. However, the minute she walked into Darcy’s office and he looked up at her with that all-seeing stare, she wished she’d chosen something more conservative than the bottle-green skirt that skimmed her knees and the matching jacket which gave a glimpse of black camisole underneath.

‘Coffee?’ he offered.

She shook her head—she was wired up enough already!

‘How’s the plan looking?’ He gestured towards the uncomfortable seat and she knew that would be the first piece of furniture to go.

‘All done.’ She resisted the urge to tug her skirt down as she sat, knowing he watched her every move.

He sat back, a smirk playing around the corners of his mouth. ‘Let me have it.’

She stared at his lips, wondering how she could’ve judged them as being thin that first day they’d met in the café. He had great lips and the longer she stared at them, the more curious she became to know exactly how they might feel plastered against hers.

He leaned forward and reached out for the cup of coffee on the desk in front of him, allowing her valuable time to recompose herself whilst he took a sip. So much for playing it cool. Focusing on his lips had set her body on fire and she hoped her raised temperature didn’t reflect in her fiery cheeks.

She cleared her throat. ‘Before I present this, I need to know if you’re ready.’

‘Ready and raring.’ He smiled, sending her heart hammering as she glimpsed a spark of desire in his eyes.

Looking at the documents in her hands, which shook slightly as she rearranged the papers for the hundredth time since they’d come off the printer that morning, she wrenched her attention back to the task at hand. ‘I’ve prepared this plan with one aim in mind and that’s to get your business back on track, as you requested. In doing this, I’ve spent time with most of your staff, who are more than loyal, yet I managed to read between the lines.’

‘Oh?’ The smile faded, only to be replaced by the frown that intimidated her.

Quelling her nerves with effort, she continued. ‘Your team have a genuine love of their jobs, they have a shared purpose and trust in the company’s mission statement and are keen to see progression within the organisation.’

‘But?’

Trying to stall for time, she placed the documents on the desk and clasped her hands in her lap, wishing he wasn’t so darn intuitive. She’d given him all the positives first, yet, being an astute businessman, he’d known she’d left the most important information out.

‘It’s not enough.’ She looked away and focused her attention on the dull picture behind him, of a sailing ship battling murky waters. Yet another indication that this dreary office needed an overhaul.

‘Tell me, Fleur. I want to hear it all.’

She braced herself for a possible eruption and stared him straight in the eye. ‘You’ve lost your spark. I get the feeling that your employees are having a hard time appearing interested in their work when the boss walks in here every day and looks like he’s shouldering the weight of the world.’

He ran a finger around the inside of his collar, as if her statement along with his tie were choking him. ‘Continue.’

‘Though they didn’t say it in as many words, I knew what they were implying. It’s difficult to appear perky when you trudge in here as if it’s the last place you want to be.’ She spoke in a rush, trying to get the words out in a hurry and thus prevent him from interrupting and shredding the last of her resolve to tell him the truth. ‘And it isn’t just your attitude. Take this office, for instance.’ She gestured around her. ‘It’s dull and lifeless. Anyone who sets foot in here would want to escape ASAP.’ She wriggled back in her seat as if to prove a point. ‘Me included. I hate this chair!’

‘Are you quite finished?’

She flushed, his icy tone scaring her more than she cared to admit. ‘Here. It’s all documented.’

He took the report from her and threw it on his desk, adding it to the growing pile of paperwork already stashed in his in-tray. ‘I’ll read it later. So, now that you’ve discovered the problem, what’s the solution?’

He planted his hands on the desk and towered over her, the thunderous look on his face intimidating her more than the quietly controlled fury in his voice.

‘I teach you how to have fun.’

Darcy sat down in his chair again, stunned by Fleur’s solution to his business problems. She stared at him with those wide chocolate-brown eyes without blinking and, with a jolt, he realised she was serious.

He laughed, a bitter sound that echoed through the room. ‘You’re kidding, right? You want to teach me how to have fun?’

‘That’s right.’ She nodded, almost dislodging the weird bun arrangement perched precariously on top of her head. He preferred her hair loose and swinging across her shoulders the way she’d worn it at dinner or, better yet, curling seductively around her face like the first memorable time he’d seen her.

‘Let me get this straight. I need to learn how to have fun?’

She blushed again and he had a strong urge to reach across the desk and cup her cheek in his hand. ‘More like you need to loosen up and remember what it was like, perhaps?’

He stifled a grin. Though she hadn’t told him anything he didn’t already know, he’d been surprised that his employees felt that way about him. He knew he’d lost his spark, feeling as if he was just going through the motions most days. He wished he could be more like Sean, able to shun his responsibilities and travel the world in search of the next best thing. But he couldn’t. He’d seen his father do that and look how that had ended, with both his parents dead in the process.

So he trudged along, throwing himself into his work yet knowing that he’d become more and more introverted along the way. He rarely socialised, dated or went out any more, unless it pertained to business, and it obviously showed. All work and no play had definitely made him a dull boy—with a woman like Fleur around, maybe it was time to change all that?

‘OK, let’s say for argument’s sake that you’re right. How are you going to get me to loosen up?’ Darcy couldn’t wait to hear this.

She fiddled with the top button on her jacket, drawing his attention to the hint of black camisole underneath. And just like that, Darcy knew exactly how his delicious new employee could help him loosen up while simultaneously chastising himself for fantasising about the unattainable.

For that was what Fleur was—he couldn’t dare let himself get close to her, for she was the epitome of every characteristic he’d schooled himself to avoid: brash, daring to be different, needing to break out of a mould. She was just like Sean and his father and he’d be damned if he ended up like them. Living for the moment ended in pain and he’d learned to block out anything—or anyone—that could instigate that emotion.

‘You need to have fun. I’m going to show you the ropes.’ She stood and gathered her bag and laptop. ‘Meet me out the front of this building at eight tomorrow morning. And wear something casual.’

He watched her stride towards the door, admiring her slim legs and the way her skirt hugged her butt, wondering how both would feel beneath his hands.

‘But tomorrow’s Saturday,’ he said, wondering if she thought he was such a sad case that they needed to get started on her plan immediately.

She stopped, hand poised on the doorknob. ‘So? Or would you prefer to start tonight?’

He glimpsed the challenge in her eyes, curious to know more and ready to face what she had in mind. ‘The sooner the better.’