The Playboy's Office Romance

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  Ilsa accepted Bryce’s welcome with a smile and allowed him to direct her to one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice,” she said. “I know you must have a very busy schedule.”

  “Me?” He laughed and instead of going behind the desk to sit across from her, he took the chair beside her, leaning forward, his blue eyes reflecting his genuine delight at her visit. “I’m never too busy when a beautiful woman is involved.”

  And that, in a nutshell, was the problem Ilsa was having in finding a suitable introduction of possibilities for Bryce. He loved women. All women, beautiful or otherwise. In the months she’d been studying him, bringing all her own substantial powers of observation and intuition to bear on the situation, she’d encountered no one woman who seemed to excite his passion. And he was, she felt, a man of deep passions, despite his life-is-a-picnic, bring-on-the-babes persona. The right woman was out there, Ilsa knew. It was just a matter of finding her, which, of course, was the problem and the reason for this trip. “You may not be so happy to see me when I tell you why I’m here,” she said with a teasing laugh. “I’ve come to persuade you to co-chair the Cinderella Ball with me.”

  His smile teased her in return. “That’s less than two weeks away. Don’t tell me, you’re short a Prince Charming and my name came instantly to mind.”

  Truer than she cared to admit. “Actually, Nels Sanger has been working with me on the event for several months, but you may have heard, he’s having heart surgery and I’m looking for someone to fill in for him.” She paused for effect, then gave his arm a figurative twist. “Your grandfather suggested I ask you.”

  Mentioning Archer had the desired result. Bryce’s expression changed, subtly but obviously. It was difficult for the Braddock men to refuse any request by their grandfather. “Granddad, huh?” Bryce used his own affectionate name for Archer, his smile less enthusiastic than before, although still warm. “I don’t suppose he mentioned that he’s persuaded me to take Adam’s place on the Sea Change Town Council, or that he just remembered to tell me that the CEO of Braddock Industries has always sat on the Providence Community Foundation board.” He spread his hands in a charmingly helpless gesture. “My dance card is pretty full already.”

  She smiled persuasively, unswayed. “As you said, it’s only a little over a week away, most of the work is already delegated and done. Plus, it is a very good cause, one the Braddock family has always generously supported with their time and money.”

  He wavered. “I’ll need to check my calendar.”

  “Archer checked with Nell before sending me. Remarkably, you’re free that evening.”

  “Remarkable,” he said dryly. “Well, in that case, I’m your man.”

  “Perfect,” she said, winning graciously. “I’ll send over a packet of material later today. The committee meets again Wednesday evening at Dellasandro’s. It’s a small group. Tom Pettrie, Lana Benedict, George and Bonnie Singer, Hailey Ramsey and Justin Cooke.”

  “This Wednesday? Day after tomorrow?”

  “Yes, and then again a week from today. Monday. At my house. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, Bryce. You’re doing me and the Cinderella Ball a huge favor.”

  “How could I pass up the chance to play Prince Charming?” What his voice lacked in enthusiasm, he made up for with his lopsided smile. “May I ask, though, why you didn’t ask Dad to cochair? He seems to have nothing but time on his hands these days.”

  “And Monica,” Ilsa said before she could stop herself. It was none of her business what James did or with whom, but it had to be perfectly obvious to everyone that this romance was unlikely to make him anything but miserable. She wasn’t blind, even if James apparently was. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Bryce grinned. “Just proves you have good instincts, unlike my father.”

  Ilsa stood, uncomfortable at discussing James this way, disgusted that his foolishness bothered her at all. “Thank you, Bryce. I sincerely appreciate your help.”

  “My pleasure. You know what a party animal I am. Well, on second thought, you probably don’t know, and I think we ought to just leave it that way.” He had stood, too, the instant she made the move to get to her feet and walked companionably with her toward the door, making polite, if nonsensical, conversation.

  The tap and Lara’s entrance came almost simultaneously. “Nell just told me you’ve bumped up the meeting with Nations Insurance to tomorrow morning,” she said, obviously agitated, but shifting gears when she caught sight of Ilsa. “Oh,” she said. “Hello, Mrs. Fairchild.”

  “Hello, Lara. How nice to see you.”

  Lara smiled as her gaze shifted to Bryce, but her tone was accusing. “I didn’t realize you had anyone in here with you.”

  “Which would be the reason most people would knock before coming in,” he replied congenially.

  Ilsa blinked. The air had snapped to attention the moment Lara entered and was practically crackling with tension still. Well, well, Ilsa thought. Obviously, the matchmaker should have been looking more closely at the possibilities that had been right in front of her all along. “Bryce has just agreed, to help me chair the Cinderella Ball,” she said, thinking fast. “My cochair had to drop out unexpectedly and Bryce, quite graciously, offered to step in.”

  “He’s a real standup guy.”

  “Not to mention, a guy who knows how to delegate authority.” His smile belied the tightness of his voice as he turned to Ilsa. “It may be difficult for me to make the committee meeting this week, Mrs. Fairchild, and if it’s all right with you, I’ll just send Lara in my place.”

  “But…” Lara started to protest.

  “Perfect.” Ilsa felt a little guilty for ramrodding a fellow female, but this opportunity was too good to pass up. “I’ll get two cochairs instead of just one. That will work out nicely all around.” She smiled persuasively at Lara. “The ball is a week from this coming Saturday, but you probably were already planning to attend. I know you accompanied Adam to many charity events in the past and while I realize this is more business than pleasure for you, I really appreciate the can-do attitude of all the people at Braddock Industries. Providence is a better place to live in because of people like the two of you.” She turned to Bryce, offered a ready smile, determined to leave before it occurred to either one of them to call her bluff. “Thank you and I’ll look forward to seeing you both Wednesday night at Dellasandro’s.”

  She walked out, believing that after weeks of searching, she’d finally stumbled onto the perfect woman for Bryce. The challenge, of course, would be to introduce him to the possibility that what was now a strictly business relationship—and an antagonistic one, at that—had potential as a happily ever after, fairy-tale romance.

  But she was, all modesty aside, a very good matchmaker, and she had almost two weeks to form a plan of action before Prince Charming met his match at the Cinderella Ball.

  Chapter Four

  Lara turned the lever to open the blinds another half inch and the conference room brightened with the golden hues of the morning sun. There was no good reason to have the clients squinting at the proposal and, in her opinion, the recessed lighting in the room produced more effect than substantive illumination. She scanned the long mahogany table—making sure the leather chairs lined up evenly all around—then checked the matching cabinet. Its surface, like the table’s, had been polished to a high luster and glistened in the sunlight. The glossy wood flooring picked up the morning rays, too, and bounced them onto the deeply grained paneling, which in turn sent them streaking back across the tabletop.

  Dark wood, old money.

  Braddock Industries had plenty of both and it showed, even in a conference room that hardly qualified as old in anyone’s book. The grand mansions in Newport might be as richly ornate as new money could make them in the late 1800s, but a hundred years before that opulent era, the Braddocks had designed their surroundings with
old-world grace and the art of comfortable elegance. It was a style so deeply ingrained in their lives, so much a part of their everyday world, that only someone outside of the family could truly appreciate its simple magnificence.

  Lara appreciated it. She’d read up on the Braddocks even before she took her courage by the throat and approached Adam for a job. She probably knew as much about the recorded family history as anyone, certainly more than the current occupant of Braddock Industries’ executive office. Bryce Braddock took his heritage and his family for granted, in her admittedly biased opinion.

  Just the thought of Bryce and the lackadaisical way he behaved twisted another knot of tension in her stomach. Everything he did irritated her. His simple act of showing up at the office, on time, as if he intended to be the man in charge, as if he had the sense and the ability to handle the job, added more fuel to her fire. He basically ignored her memos, refused to set appropriate agendas for staff meetings, showed up late or not at all for those meetings, seldom, if ever, checked his e-mail, much less answered it, and on top of his casual attitude, dressed as if he were only stopping off at the office on his way to the beach.

  Then out of the blue, he’d rescheduled this morning’s meeting without asking her, hadn’t even had the courtesy to inform her of the change. She’d found out, like all the other team members, when Nell sent out a memo. Bryce was definitely at the top of her black list this morning. Nations Insurance Group was her project, her presentation. She’d been working on it with Adam and though he had been skeptical of the insurance company’s interest, she’d pushed for the opportunity and been given free rein to pursue it. Bryce had no business even attending this meeting, much less interfering in the timetable she’d set. The unnecessary change had forced her to finish her proposal in a matter of hours, instead of days.

  But she’d show him. She’d convince Sam Engersoll and Brian Talbot that whatever the Nations Insurance Group required in the way of office space, Braddock Industries could deliver, either in a lease agreement on an existing building or in a built-to-suit, new construction. She’d stayed up very late last night working on the presentation, but she was focused and ready to go this morning.

  She yawned as she touched the polished curve of the cabinet, rechecking the things she’d personally set out for the meeting—a silver coffee service, china cups, saucers, small plates, forks, spoons and a precisely sliced coffee cake on a Baccarat crystal platter. Perfect. Moving back to the table, to her designated place at the CEO’s right hand, she tapped the thin stack of papers that made up her proposal to Nations Insurance Group into a final, immaculate order, preparing herself mentally and emotionally for the upcoming meeting.

  As another yawn overtook her, she noticed the brownish bump on the top sheet and brushed it off with her thumb. It stuck, smearing into a sticky streak across the white paper. She sniffed her thumb, knowing even before identifying the scent what it was. Peanut butter and banana. A leftover from Calvin’s breakfast.

  Lara sighed. She wasn’t cut out for motherhood, not even temporarily. She’d been in charge of her siblings after her mother died and her father fell apart, and had been miserable and mostly unsuccessful in the role of substitute mom. She hadn’t been able to control her two sisters and one brother then, and she didn’t seem to be having much luck in controlling Calvin now. Her plan had been to get up early, be dressed and ready when Bridget arrived and be long gone before Cal was even awake. But her nephew had his own agenda and was shaking her awake even before the alarm went off, as bright-eyed at six o’clock in the morning as he would be at nine o’clock tonight. She’d had to read him a story, fix his breakfast and answer a long string of questions about what made water wet and why elephants liked peanut butter, but not bananas. The care and upkeep of a four-year-old was more of a challenge than she’d ever imagined it could be. And even though she’d made it out the door at seven-thirty—thanks to Bridget’s timely arrival—she felt as if she’d already run a marathon.

  But despite the setback, everything was ready, with thirty minutes to spare.

  But the stain sat there on the paper, mocking her professionalism, her attention to detail, just plain bothering her. She rubbed at it, made it worse, told herself no one else would worry about a smudge on a piece of paper. A spot was nothing, not even worth thinking about, but she couldn’t help wondering if an eraser would take it off, or if correction fluid would only turn a brown spot into an unsightly white glob, which was just plain silly. It was a spot. No one, except her, would even notice it. Of course, Bryce wouldn’t notice a three-foot crater in the middle of the table. So why couldn’t she just retrieve the copy of the proposal she’d left on his desk earlier and leave him this stained one? He’d never know the difference, wouldn’t even have time to glance at the proposal before the meeting started. She supposed she could print out another copy and throw this one away, except why waste paper when there was at least a seventy-thirty chance he wouldn’t remember he’d rescheduled the meeting for this morning anyway?

  Decision made, she carried the stained proposal down the hall to his office and was surprised to discover Nell wasn’t at her desk. The computer was up and running though, so the secretary was around somewhere, probably gossiping about Bryce in the coffee-room. There was a lot of that going around lately, although Lara resolutely avoided joining in. She would have liked to add her two cents worth, but knew such an action would be both unprofessional and beneath her dignity. So she kept her doubts about the new CEO private and overlooked the fact that others weren’t so diplomatic.

  The door into Adam’s office was closed, but Lara didn’t bother to knock before she walked in. It was empty, as she’d expected, and as she stepped over the practice putting green, she scanned the desk for the other copy of the proposal. It was right where she’d left it and she exchanged the two, feeling more confident about her presentation just for taking that one simple act.

  She heard the phone ring at Nell’s desk—the ringer on Adam’s phone was never turned on in order to minimize distractions—and noting on the display that the call was being transferred from her own secretary’s extension, Lara tapped the console and turned on the speaker phone. “Lara Richmond,” she said briskly.

  “How’s my grandson?”

  The familiar voice was scratchy and uneven, a smoker’s raspy tones. Lara closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Hello, Dad.”

  “Hello, yourself. I just called your place and some midget answered, said I couldn’t talk to my own grandson.”

  Lara restrained a sigh. “Her name is Bridget, she’s Calvin’s nanny, and Cal is at preschool this morning, which is why you couldn’t talk to him.”

  “Hmph,” said Charles Richmond. “Must be nice to have so much money you can afford a nanny and a fancy-schmancy school for your nephew.”

  It was an old tug-of-war her father played with her. He was proud of her success, loved to brag about her college degrees, her salary and status to anyone who would listen, but he was jealous, too. And no amount of argument on her part would ever convince him that affording a nanny and the moderately priced preschool she’d selected for her nephew required a considerable financial sacrifice on her part. More, because of the money she continued to send to other members of her family than any other reason.

  “I’m about to go into a meeting, Dad.” She hated the fact that she could never seem to hear her father’s voice without feeling as if a giant claw had her stomach in a bruising grip. “Is there something in particular you needed?”

  “I need to talk to my grandson.” Her father seldom said anything in a normal voice. It always came out as a growl, in one grating form or another. “Make sure he’s doing okay. But you’ve got him locked up as tight as a federal prison. Derrick says you won’t let him talk to Cal, either, and Derrick is his father, you know.”

  “A father who left his four-year-old son alone in a hotel room while he went off to hook up with his drinking buddies.” She wasn’t playing that ga
me today. Or ever again. Her brother was the apple of her father’s eye by virtue of being the only male child, but she wasn’t so forgiving anymore. The whole family had mishandled Cal’s situation from the start. “He’s never getting unsupervised visits with Calvin again, Dad, so don’t even start with me.”

  “Don’t you take that tone of voice with me, missy. Just because you managed to get yourself one of them high-powered, stressful jobs doesn’t mean you can talk uppity to your old man. Now I told Derrick I’d call you, get you to let him talk to his little boy on the phone. That’s all. Just a few minutes on the phone. You can do that much for your only brother, can’t you?”

  She knew this drill by heart. Her only brother saw an opportunity and took the roundabout way to seize it. As long as she had Calvin, Derrick would believe he had a hold on her, and a divine right to mooch anything he could from it. And her father saw it as her chance to help out her less fortunate sibling and make amends for her own success. No matter how much she did for her always-needy family, it never seemed to be enough. “No,” she said firmly. “I can’t. I’m too angry with Derrick to talk to him and I’m certainly not going to force Calvin to listen to his excuses. You shouldn’t listen to them, either.”

  “I don’t think I need my daughter to lecture me on what I should and shouldn’t do, no matter how smart she thinks she is.”

  “Well, she’s smart enough to know when to say goodbye. I’ll talk to you later.” She clicked off the phone before he could upset her further and it was only then she became aware of Bryce watching her. He’d stepped out of the private bathroom, toweling his neck and face, shirtless, disheveled and quite stunningly handsome. She didn’t see many half-naked men these days, hadn’t been this close to one in a very long time, as a matter of fact, and he was even better built than she’d imagined. Oops! Correction, she hadn’t imagined anything. She’d never given his body a single thought…unless the fantasies of doing him great bodily harm counted.