Beauty & Broken Daddy: A Second Chance Romance (Boss Daddies)

by Claire Angel

  Beauty & Broken Daddy

  A Second Chance Romance

  Claire Angel

  Copyright © 2021 by Claire Angel

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. While, as in all fiction, the literary perceptions and insights are based on life experiences and conclusions drawn from research, all names, characters, places and specific instances are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. No actual reference to any real person, living or dead, is intended or inferred.

  BEAUTY & BROKEN DADDY: A SECOND CHANCE ROMANCE

  Beauty & Broken Daddy

  BLURB:

  #Noah Blakely, recently divorced, single dad, a successful businessman, gorgeous specimen of a man, needs a temp whilst his PA is on a six-month hiatus.

  #Brooke Jones, university graduate with a degree in Applied Mathematics, spunky attitude, and a body that won’t quit. But her beauty isn’t just skin deep.

  BROOKE JONES

  Brooding, ruthless, hot, broken...BOSS!

  How can such an irresistible man be such a colossal jerk?

  Mom said he had a kind heart, but I can’t find it.

  He blows hot and cold, but damn it...I want him!

  Office fling, or serious contender for my heart?

  Who knows?

  Right now, I may smash his face in with an office chair.

  Only time will tell.

  Love is worth the pain and frustration.

  Or is it?

  NOAH BLAKELY

  My life is a succession of blows to the gut.

  My ex-wife shattered my heart into a thousand pieces, leaving me reeling emotionally.

  And, to add to my frustration, our young son, Cody, seems to be last on her list of priorities. Now, my PA is leaving for six months on some spiritual retreat!

  Is there no end to this madness?

  Enter, temporary PA.

  Goddess, very smart, sassy, kind, and bloody irresistible!

  I don’t want to, but I can’t stop thinking about making love to her.

  I want her…

  Will this beautiful young woman steal the heart of her bristly boss? Can he open his wounded heart to love again?

  ***

  Chapter 1

  NOAH BLAKELY

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Cassandra! What do you mean I can’t have him this weekend? I got us tickets for the ball game. This is bullshit! If you don’t cut this crap out, I’m suing you for full custody of Cody,” I yelled into the phone at my bitch ex-wife.

  “Don’t threaten me, Noah. I’m not one of your minions who shake every time you snarl at them. This weekend doesn’t suit me. I’m taking Cody to see my parents, and I’m sorry it’s last minute, but that’s just how it is. You can have him the next two weekends. Brad and I are going away together then.”

  My anger was superseded only by my disdain for Cassandra Mullins. She’d changed back to her maiden name soon after our divorce, dropping Blakely like a smelly dishrag. I should have known the ‘town bicycle’ wouldn’t change her ways for love and marriage. After our sixth wedding anniversary, when I caught her banging her tennis coach in the changing rooms of the exclusive club—that I paid a fortune for, mind you—the die was cast. The bitch broke my heart. I’d loved her deeply, back then.

  My only saving grace was that my father had insisted on a solid prenup. He told me at the time, that all men were idiots when they were in love, and he was right on the money. The only good thing that came from my naive union with my ex was our beautiful five-year-old son, Cody. He was the light of my life. From the moment I held him in my arms, I was smitten. I wondered if all fathers felt the same incredible, unconditional love for their children. Cassandra and I tried our level best to be civilized for his sake, but lately she’d pushed the boundaries.

  “This is the last time. Do you hear me? Don’t push me. I mean it.”

  “Fine,” she said in her ‘whatever’ tone—the one she knew I hated. “We’ll see you next weekend.”

  I hung up before I said something I couldn’t take back, but honestly, there wouldn’t be much that I hadn’t said before. No one could put me in a worse mood than Cassandra. It was shaping up to be an appalling start to my day!

  I looked out over the bay from the large fold-away glass doors of my living room. A few rays of sun broke through the clouds, forming a cylindrical shape of light on the ocean—the kind I remembered seeing on the cover of my children’s Bible story books. The television was on, but up until that moment, I hadn’t heard a single word of what the pretty blonde news anchor woman had reported on.

  It was still early, so I decided to go for a run before I made my way to the office. I needed to clear my head, and the only way was to take it out on the pavement and sweat it out. It was fall—the air crisp and the streets of my neighborhood fairly quiet. At first, after our divorce, I lived in an apartment. But Cody was at that age when he needed space, and plenty of it. I’d even capitulated and bought him a dog, a golden retriever, Max. The two of them were a handful, but it was worth the look of complete joy on Cody’s face every time he came to stay for the weekend or the school holidays to his buddy, Max. I came a close second to his furry accomplice.

  Janice, my housekeeper, was busy in the kitchen when I returned from my run, whipping up my favorite for breakfast—Eggs Benedict on two crispy halves of an English muffin. There were roughly four people in the world of ‘post-divorce Noah’ I wasn’t short tempered or pissy with. One of them was Janice. Also, it’s never smart to yell at the person who prepares your food. After a quick shower, I changed for work, and followed my nose to the kitchen.

  “Ah, Janice. What would I do without you?”

  “Probably live a lot longer.” She smiled as she placed the buttery meal on the table in front of me. “This greasy breakfast is unlikely to keep those arteries of yours clear. I take no responsibility for your impending heart attack, if the coroner ever asks,” she said.

  “Nor would they ever accuse you, Janice.” I laughed.

  “Is our whirlwind angel, Cody, going to keep us on our toes this weekend?” she asked with a sparkle in her eyes.

  “I’m afraid not. The dragon pisses on my picnic once more.”

  “That woman is so selfish. What’s the excuse this time?”

  “A trip to her parents. Honestly, I have absolutely no idea how two such decent people managed to spawn a demon such as their daughter.”

  “That’s a mystery, my dear,” Janice said, as she poured me a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.

  “I’m going grocery shopping this morning. Is there anything special you’d like for dinner, Noah? Perhaps I can cheer you up with a good portion of Beef Wellington and a nice glass of Merlot.”

  “Janice, your husband must be the luckiest man alive,” I said.

  She smiled at me, then said, “I’ll tell him you said so.”

  “You do that. I’m not sure yet what my day will bring, but I will let you know a bit later about dinner.”

  “Have a good day,” she said in her endearing motherly tone. Then, the fifty-something year old pillar of strength left me to my own devices.

  After breakfast, I grabbed my leather satchel. Driving to work in my Jag was one
of the pleasures of success I afforded myself. The construction company I’d started from scratch took off like a rocket after the first two years, and was now fifteen staff members strong and soaring to great heights. My typical day consists of visits to building sites where I meet with our team of project managers, accountants and bankers, and finally, attend soirees with wealthy clients. My golf swing improved vastly after I dumped Cassandra’s lying ass. I had more time on my hands, and my suspicions were finally at rest.

  I’d never suffered fools easily, and unfortunately, most people bored the hell out of me. There were so few interesting minds out there, and I was always on the hunt for stimulating conversation. That aside, I said what I meant, and I meant what I said. Take it or leave it. What was the point of letting people in, anyway? Love was a fairy tale. Except when it came to my Cody. He was worth every kind and beautiful thing I’d ever said and done.

  The Jag cornered like she was on rails. I was an eighties rock child, even though I was only in my late twenties, so the stereo in my car was usually cranked up as I listened to Led Zeppelin peel the paint off the inside of my cabin. My offices were in town, about half an hour’s journey from my house. That gave me plenty of time to collect my thoughts for the day, and give lead singer, Robert Plant, a run for his money.

  As I rounded the corner, my office building came into view. It was rather impressive, I had to say. It was one of the first projects I’d completed, and I bought it as soon as I could afford to. She was a beauty, alright. I parked underground, then took my private elevator up to the floor of my office. I preferred a private entrance. The thought of fighting my way through a busy reception area, past desks filled with staff and visitors, gave me the screaming shits. Had it been acceptable, I would have pinned a large sign to my door that read:

  STAY THE FUCK OUT!

  Unless I say otherwise

  But, alas, it wouldn’t be ‘PC’.

  “Good morning, Noah,” a friendly voice greeted me as I stepped off the elevator.

  “Morning, Martha.”

  “I’ve got your schedule running like clockwork, young man. We need to get you out of here zippy quick today. Can’t have Cody waiting for his daddy this afternoon.”

  “You might want to throw in a few more meetings, Martha. Her highness is taking him to see her parents this weekend.”

  “But it’s Friday! It’s a bit short notice, isn’t it?”

  “It’s always short notice with that bitch,” I said, irritated as all hell.

  “I’m sorry, Noah.”

  “It is what it is, Martha. Perhaps you and your husband would like to take our tickets to the ball game. I’m not going to use them.”

  “That’s very sweet of you, thank you. Ben will be over the moon.”

  “My pleasure. Enjoy.”

  Martha Jones was my substitute mother at the office. I doubted whether she’d made an enemy in her entire life. Sweetness and efficiency personified, she was one of the four people I regarded as worthy of respect and courtesy, my parents aside, of course. I loved her to bits.

  I went to my office and closed the door behind me, and marvelled at the fantastic view of the surrounding buildings from my bay windows. The weather had improved substantially since my morning run, and the streets below were bathed in sunlight. Martha had set up my desk for me, and I popped my satchel down on the beautiful, dark, indigenous, wooden surface of the bespoke piece of furniture. The room smelled of leather and pine scented polish.

  Before I started my work routine, I called Charlie. He and I grew up together. Charles Robert Dixon, the Third, was one of the few people in my life who had the ability to pull me out of a funk. Mad as a box of frogs, Charlie said it like it was. He took no prisoners. I loved that about him.

  I needed a night out, and Charlie was my chosen sidekick. I hoped he was free.

  Chapter 2

  BROOKE JONES

  “Please, my darling. I’ve been wanting to go on this retreat for so long, and now there’s an opening for me. Not just anyone can rock up and stroll in, you know. You have to be invited.”

  I watched as Mom was gesticulating like a child in a candy store, while packing away the dishes from last night’s dinner with Dad. How could I say no to a woman who’d dedicated all her free time to making my life the best any daughter could ever ask for?

  “How are you going to convince Noah Blakely to let you out on parole for six months, Mom?” I asked, as I watched her sparkly eyes dart about.

  “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. First, I need to know that someone with an exceptional brain steps into my place, i.e. you, my clever girl. Besides, you can’t sit around picking your nose for half a year after you’ve graduated cum laude. You need to get out there and strut your clever stuff,” Mom cooed.

  “Don’t think for one moment that I don’t know what you’re doing, Mom. Your shameless praise is duly noted, you sneak.”

  Mom smiled and hugged me. I knew right then and there that I was done for.

  “Okay, fine. I’ll do it. But I won’t take his crap lying down, Martha Jones. He better behave.”

  “I’ll be sure to convey your sentiments to him.” Mom chuckled.

  “Yeah, sure you will. He’s got you wrapped around your little finger, and you know it, you big softy.”

  “I know he has a prickly exterior, Brooke, but Noah has a heart of gold.”

  “And like gold, it’s buried deep down underground, in an impenetrable vault, from what I’ve heard.”

  “Do the job right, and you’ll be fine.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Can I go home now, or are you planning on dropping any other bombshells?”

  “Nope, that’s it,” she said as if she’d merely asked me to pick up a pizza on my way over to the house that used to be my place of refuge.

  Word on the street was that Noah Blakely had a reputation as an insufferable, rude, self-opinionated, arrogant ass. My mother was a saint for putting up with him. However, she insisted that he treated her very well. I could think of nothing worse than spending six months kowtowing to him. I wasn’t exactly what they’d call a pushover. That was not to say that I didn’t execute my given tasks with anything but excellence, but I couldn’t tolerate rudeness.

  Mom and Dad’s relationship was the benchmark to which I compared all others. I had never heard Ben Jones utter one unkind word to his wife, and as far as I was concerned, nothing but that sort of civility would suffice. Not that I was interviewing for a husband, but still.

  I wasn’t in the habit of tooting my own horn but graduating top in my class at university in Applied Mathematics was something I worked exceptionally hard for. I was no dunce, and I expected to be treated like a woman with a brain. There was a nasty rumor that women were either beautiful or smart. I wouldn’t stand for such stereotyping. Good luck to the man who made that mistake with me.

  I kissed Mom on the cheek and left for home. My trusty Mini Cooper S purred to life as I pushed the starter button. I adored my cream-colored bomb with black racing stripes across the hood. She stuck to the road like stink on a skunk, and whenever I needed to let off some steam, I’d open her up and put serious distance between me and my problems.

  All the way home I thought of nothing but Noah Blakely. Surely, he couldn’t be as nasty as he was reported to be. Mom certainly had faith in his inherent goodness, but it remained to be seen what he was like, face to face.

  At age twenty-six, I’d had little experience with the intricacies of the opposite sex. My studies kept me crazy busy for eight years, and the last thing I had time for was distraction. I saw the havoc romance caused in the lives of my girlfriends, the ups and downs, the drama, and the tears. I figured I had plenty of time to dip my toe in the relationship pool once my studies were behind me. So, there I was, a happy bachelorette, very content with my single status.

  My apartment was in a beautiful part of town. It had belonged to my aunt, and when she passed away, she left it to me in her will. She had no chi
ldren of her own, so I was her substitute daughter. She was a wonderful woman, and I thought of her often when I milled about the apartment. The decor suited her taste, but I needed a fresh look, so I redecorated and filled the space with pot plants and art. It was wonderful owning my own home, coming and going as I pleased, and having a quiet space where I could enjoy my freedom.

  I stopped at the farmer’s market around the corner from home and stocked up on a few of my food staples. My three go-to food groups included fresh fruit and vegetables, fish, and chocolate, as dark as I could get my hands on. I was considered a food pariah amongst my friends, none of them understanding my passion for fresh food and cooking. I found cooking cathartic—they preferred having fast food delivery apps on speed dial. I grew up pottering about the kitchen with Mom, peeling, chopping, and when I was old enough, cooking with her, and then for her and Dad. The occasional culinary disasters were dealt with rather delicately, bless them.

  “Hi, Brooke,” Joanne Anley greeted me happily when I grabbed a basket at the checkout. She and her son owned the very popular store at the market. I was a loyal supporter, and over the years, we’d established a friendly rapport.

  “Hi, Joanne. You look well.”

  “Thank you. What’s on the dinner menu for tonight? I got in some giant beets this morning, and I’m sure you’ll know exactly what to do with them. Also, the tomatoes are sweet as honey, and the potatoes are organic.”

  “Sounds delicious. I’ll have a bag of each, thanks. Do you know if Mark next door has any fresh cod?”

  “I believe he does,” she said. “You better hurry. It sells like hotcakes, as you know.”

  “Thanks for the heads up. I’ll pop over asap.”

  We chatted a little about her family visiting from Ohio. Her nephews and nieces kept her on her toes, and she whispered to me that leaving for work in the mornings was the only thing that kept her safe. I absolutely adored children—dirt, tantrums, innocence, chocolaty hugs and kisses, and all. I made my fair share of pocket money as a teen, babysitting the kids in my neighborhood. I’d never encountered a child I couldn’t entertain.