Emeralds, Rubies, and Camouflage
Military Moguls
Book Four
by
Olivia Jaymes
www.OliviaJaymes.com
‡
EMERALDS, RUBIES, AND CAMOUFLAGE
EPUB Edition
Copyright © 2015 by Olivia Jaymes
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
Dedication
To all the servicemen and women who leave behind loved ones to serve their country.
Emeralds, Rubies, and Camouflage
Myra Burke has lost her faith in men and love. When her ex-fiancé cleans out their bank account she needs a decent job to provide for her four year old daughter and she needs it yesterday.
Holt Winthrop has money, intelligence, and charm. He also has love to give but that isn’t an option anymore. Caught in a suicide bombing, he’s scarred inside and out. No one would want what he’s become.
Against his better judgment, his matchmaking friends convince Holt to hire Myra as his personal assistant. When he finds out she’s down on her luck he simply can’t say no despite his instant attraction to the curvaceous redhead.
Myra thinks her new boss is not only wonderful but sexy as hell. If she isn’t careful she could find herself head over heels for a man like him. Good thing she’s knows better. Billionaires don’t fall in love with their assistants.
Or do they? As each day passes their mutual attraction turns into a fiery passion that neither can ignore or deny. They’ll need all the courage they can find to take a chance on love…just one more time.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
About the Book
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
About the Author
Other Books by the Author
Chapter One
‡
Myra Burke drove her ancient economy hatchback up the long lane, lined on both sides with cypress trees. Her friend Lily Braxton hadn’t been lying when she said that Holt Winslow lived in a remote area of Pasco County. The nearest neighbor that she had seen was at least five miles away and the nearest store was farther than that. Pizza delivery was out of the question this far away from civilization. Her cell phone was only picking up two bars.
Nervous and filled with trepidation, Myra wiped her sweaty palms on the black pencil skirt she’d paired with a conservative white blouse and two inch heels. Her hope was that she looked cool and professional and not like the formerly stay-at-home mom who wore mostly shorts and t-shirts.
Now she was going to be a career woman. Never mind that the closest she’d ever had to a career was a stint in sales at an upscale clothing store that catered to people who had money. People like her friend Lily who had married a man with a major bankroll. Not that it had changed her in the least. Lily was the sweetest friend anyone could ever ask for.
She’d really come through when Myra’s boyfriend and the father of her daughter left and sent the text equivalent of a Dear John letter. Three months ago while he’d been on a long haul to Nevada Bobby had told Myra that he wasn’t coming back. Despite the red flags Myra could see clearly now she had made a mistake and trusted Bobby.
Now here she was. Broke. Jobless. Forced to stay with friends. And desperate for a break.
This job wasn’t just Myra’s best chance. It was her only chance.
A shape appeared on the horizon and grew larger and more imposing the closer she came to it. By the time her car pulled up in the circular drive it was clear this was more than just a house.
It was a home. The kind regular people such as herself dreamed about.
Reminiscent of the homes she’d seen in magazines with large rambling floor plans and wraparound porches, Holt Winslow’s three-story mansion was charm personified. Every inch of the house invited a visitor to come in and sit a spell, maybe have a sweet tea.
Myra was no exception. Delighted by the large and beautiful residence nestled in a grove of trees, she ignored her nerves and marched up the front porch steps. It was time to start her new – hopefully better – life.
For a moment she had an urge to run back to the car but she gathered her courage and pressed the doorbell. Her back damp with nervous perspiration, she stood on shaking legs waiting for someone to answer the door. Everything was riding on the next hour of her life.
The door swung open and an older woman with short blonde hair and light blue eyes smiled in greeting. Dressed casually in jeans, t-shirt, and a chef’s apron the woman looked possibly in her forties, but then Myra had always been a bad judge of age.
“You must be Myra Burke. Please come in.” The woman stepped back. “I’m Fiona Dunlap, the housekeeper. Mrs. Braxton told me all about you.”
Mrs. Dunlap stepped back so Myra could enter a foyer area that was easily larger than the kitchen in her last apartment.
“Thank you, I am Myra.” She shook hands with the friendly Mrs. Dunlap. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
The centerpiece of the room was a dark oak table in the middle of the entryway with a large crystal vase of flowers that somehow seemed to match the pale green paint on the walls and didn’t clash with the slightly lighter oak floors that gleamed in the light of the chandelier overhead.
“Holt is just finishing up a phone call and then he’ll be able to talk to you. You can have a seat in the living room while you wait.”
“Thank you,” Myra said again and followed Mrs. Dunlap into an even more impressive room. Less formal than the foyer, the living room was decorated in blues and greens, the palette restful but not boring.
Myra sat down on the comfortable sofa, sinking into the deep cushions and trying to keep her nerves under control. Lily had told her the job was basically a done deal and the interview with Mr. Winslow would be a mere formality. But Myra wasn’t sure she could believe that anything was that easy. Certainly nothing lately had been.
After murmuring her apologies Mrs. Dunlap disappeared into another part of the house, leaving Myra alone. She crossed and uncrossed her legs not able to find a comfortable position, even on the overstuffed couch. It had been a long time since she’d been on a job interview and never one that had so much riding on it. There was no room for error.
Footsteps on the stairs captured Myra’s attention. A tall man with broad shoulders was descending the staircase, his long legs taking them two at a time. It was only as he grew closer that she could see the mottled skin on the left side of his neck and on his hand and arm. Instead of tan like the rest of him the flesh was pale and smooth as if he’d been burned there.
His left cheek looked as if it had been cut in several places but it did nothing to detract from his devastatingly good looks. In fact, with his short-cropped dark hair and eyes the scars gave him a rogue-like air that probably attracted women in droves. The broad shoulders and flat abdomen didn’t hurt either.
Holt Winslow was a good-looking man and she felt an unwelcome quiver of awar
eness run through her as their gazes met and held. His eyes narrowed and he looked up her up and down as he rolled down his shirt sleeves and fastened the cuffs. The intensity of his gaze made her want to run and hide for some reason as if he could see right through her, which was of course impossible.
Holt Winslow held out his hand. “Myra Burke, I presume?”
She stood on shaking legs and placed her hand in his. A jolt of electricity zipped up her arm and then down her spine, almost knocking her off her feet in surprise. She’d never had a reaction this intense to a man before and it was not good that he might end up being her boss.
“Yes,” she replied huskily, pulling her hand away in self-preservation. “Please call me Myra.”
“Myra it is, then,” he answered with a brusque tone. “Why don’t we go into my office where we can talk?”
It was a question, but not really. Clearly this was a man who was used to giving orders and expecting them to be obeyed. Smoothing down her skirt, she slung her handbag over her shoulder.
“Of course, Mr. Winslow,” she said, trying to appear all business. It wasn’t easy when her stomach was doing acrobatic moves in her abdomen.
“You can call me Holt. If you’ll just follow me.” He turned on his heel and strode toward the back of the home, expecting her to do the same. She ended up almost jogging behind him, her legs much shorter than his.
Myra couldn’t tell if things were off to a good or bad start with Holt Winslow but she prayed it was the former. She couldn’t continue living with Lily and her husband Dane, sponging off of them and she sure couldn’t move back in with her parents.
Straightening her shoulders, Myra took a deep, calming breath. It was time to dazzle her future boss with how amazing she was.
Easy as pie.
*
This clearly wasn’t going to work at all.
Holt’s friend and now law partner Dane Braxton hadn’t been completely truthful when he’d described Myra Burke. In fact, Holt was seriously wondering if anything his friend had said had been true.
Dane sure as shit hadn’t mentioned how incredibly young she was. Her creamy complexion had a sprinkling of freckles on her nose and cheekbones and her skin was completely unlined. If she was a day over twenty-two Holt would eat his nine-iron.
Dane also hadn’t mentioned Myra’s rich auburn hair, her soft whiskey-colored eyes, full pink lips, or the generous curves that were only highlighted in the sensible skirt and white blouse. When he’d walked downstairs to greet her the first thing he’d glimpsed had been Myra’s shapely legs, and he’d almost missed a stair step when he couldn’t tear his eyes away.
No, this woman wouldn’t do. He kept to himself and he liked it that way. After he’d been caught in that suicide bombing in Kandahar he’d quickly realized life wasn’t ever going to be the same. Money bought him the best medical care on the planet but it couldn’t stop others from flinching when they saw his scars.
One look at her and he’d been rolling down his shirt sleeves and pulling up his collar to cover the worst of them. It was only around strangers that he felt self-conscious.
Strangers and beautiful women. The kind of women who would have pursued Holt before because of his looks and reputation as a lover. Now when women chased him their eyes were firmly on his bank account and not his body.
“I have a copy of my resume.” Myra was holding out a piece of paper and he took it from her, careful not to let their fingers touch. When he’d shaken her hand earlier he’d felt a bolt of awareness even as her alluring perfume had teased his nostrils. He’d never get anything done all day if he had to smell that in the office. If he gave her the job he’d tell her that he was allergic to perfume. Not really the truth, but close enough.
Holt pretended to study the paper but the words were as jumbled as his brain. It was kind of pathetic that one little female could affect him like this. It didn’t have anything to do with her specifically, of course. It was simply that he’d been without a woman too long.
That was it. It was just a sex drive thing. Nothing to do with Myra herself.
Another reason she couldn’t stay.
“So why don’t you tell me a little bit about your last job?”
He couldn’t cut the interview short. That would hurt her feelings and this whole thing wasn’t her fault. The least he could do was go through the motions.
Myra smiled and leaned forward in her chair. The position pulled her blouse tight over her generous breasts and outlined her nipples against the thin fabric.
Son of a bitch. Concentrate.
“And I handled the schedules and basically ran all aspects of the office.” Myra sat back, an expectant look on her face. Clearly Holt had missed the lion’s share of her answer.
He picked up her resume again and held it in front of his face, not wanting her to see the heat that had invaded his cheeks. “Uh, fine. So tell me what you’re looking for in a job. What’s important to you?”
“I’m looking for a job where I can make a difference. I like to be challenged.”
Although she’d said the words convincingly something in Holt’s gut wasn’t buying it. Most people wanted their work to make a difference and enjoying a challenge was fairly common as well, but somehow he doubted this was a deciding factor in her job hunt.
Being his personal assistant wasn’t going to be the most exciting job on the planet. In fact, it promised to be rather dull and tedious at times.
Holt placed her resume on the desk between them. “Are you sure? I’ll ask the question one more time. What’s important to you?”
Her fingers were twisted together so tightly the knuckles were white. “I’m a single parent and I need to find a job that pays enough for me to support my child while having some flexibility.”
So Dane had told him at least one thing that was true. Myra was a single parent looking for a job that wouldn’t keep her at the office sixty hours a week.
“That sounds fair. Where do you see yourself in five years? What kind of work do you hope to be doing?”
“I–I’d like to have my own business.” Her pointed chin lifted in the air as if she was expecting him to laugh at her statement.
“What kind of business?”
“I have something in mind,” she replied, obviously not wanting to answer his question. “Something creative. I like making things with my hands.”
This was the strangest interview he’d ever been involved in, but then he wasn’t planning to hire her at the end of it so it really didn’t matter. He asked her about the software she was familiar with and a few other minor questions about her resume before standing up to indicate the interview was complete.
“Thank you for coming in today, Miss Burke. I’ll be in touch by the end of the week. Let me see you out.”
The sooner Myra Burke left the sooner his blood pressure could go back to normal. The minute she drove away he was going to call Dane and ask his friend what the hell he’d been thinking sending her here.
He kept his distance as they returned to the foyer and other than thanking him for his time, she was silent. When they reached the front door she stiffly offered her hand and a too-bright smile.
“Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Winslow. I know you’re a busy man.”
He took her hand in his, so tiny compared to his own, but her grip was firm. “We’ll be in touch.”
She nodded and tucked her handbag under her arm and turned to walk to her car. He watched as she walked the entire way, his gaze taking in her curves and the shapely calves that peeked out from the bottom of the long skirt.
It was all for the best. Myra Burke would find another job and he’d hire the ugliest, most unpleasant personal assistant on the planet.
For his own self-preservation. He didn’t want a woman around day after day that made him think or worry about how he looked. He’d accepted that he had scars now. But that didn’t mean that everyone else had. He’d seen the looks of pity that would cross someone’s face when
they looked at him and he never wanted to see that expression on the face of Myra Burke.
Chapter Two
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“I blew it,” Myra confessed to Lily as they sat by the pool of Lily and Dane’s impressive home. Myra and her almost four year old daughter Amelia had been living in their guest room for almost two weeks. The money to rent their small condo in Clearwater had run out and Myra had been grateful for Lily’s offer to move in and help with her two kids. “He was polite at the end but I could tell that I’m about to get the brush off. A very polite ‘thanks but no thanks’.”
Lily frowned and picked up another cookie from the plate on the table between them. “That doesn’t sound right. From what Dane told me Holt is really desperate for someone to take the job. He wants them to start right away. Apparently his last PA ran off to the Keys to become the lead singer in a conch band.”
“That makes it worse,” Myra groaned. “Hiring me is worse than having no one at all. Ouch.”
“I’m sure that isn’t the case,” Lily argued. “I bet it went better than you think. Holt can be a little remote but he’s a nice man.”
“He wasn’t not nice. He just wasn’t…” Myra didn’t know how to put her feelings into words. “He just didn’t seem all that happy that I was there. He frowned during the entire interview. Maybe he didn’t like my outfit. I should have worn a business suit or something. I was too casual.”
Lily shook her head and pushed the plate of cookies toward Myra. “Dane specifically said the job was casual most of the time, although there would be occasions you might have to dress up a little bit.”
“Then maybe he didn’t like my hair, or my shoes, or my qualifications.” Myra eyed the platter of cookies and then pushed the plate back toward Lily. She had enough extra padding on her hips and thighs; she didn’t need to add to it by emotionally eating. “Maybe he hates redheads. Whatever it was I can assure you I’m not getting that job.”
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