by Sierra Rose
“Hey, what took you so long?” Gina asked. “I was ready to begin a search and rescue mission.”
A grin spread across her lips as she handed her a water. “I just met the CEO, and he’s hotter than what you said. I mean, I should’ve known it was him. But you said he left for the day, and I thought it was one of the other executives.”
“You met him?”
“Yeah. And he’s hotter than hell. I didn’t expect him to be so big.”
Her eyes widened. “Please tell me you weren’t staring at his cock. He’s our boss for goodness sake!”
“What? NO! I’m talking about his bulging muscles. The way that suit stretched across his shoulders and chest.” She started to fan herself. “Damn!”
“I know. But don’t be tempted. He won’t date employees. And besides, he’s a player. No woman can tame that man. So, it’s not worth playing with fire.”
“What’s he like?”
“In his personal life, he’s a little on the wild side from what I hear. Has wicked tats. Owns a Harley. Total bad boy type. He’s a great guy as long as you don’t date him, and get your heart broken by him. But in the work world, he’s driven, passionate, dedicated, and won’t take no for an answer.”
“His publicist called him a scoundrel.”
“He should totally get that tattooed on his chest.”
“So, you love working for him?”
“You work for him too.”
“I know, but you work for him up close and personal, like at his beck and call. I mean, come on, you even saw his tats!”
“He’s a great boss. So friendly and charming. And we work well together. That’s why he keeps me around. The man simply couldn’t survive without me. I keep him in check. At least at the office.”
“How can he be so damn hot?”
“By the look in your eyes, I can see he made quite the impression.”
“Sure. But don’t tell him that. He’s cocky enough.”
They both laughed.
LUKE WENT BACK TO HIS office and attended to some preliminary paperwork on the Ralston acquisition. His thoughts kept straying to the secretary who’d migrated up a few dozen floors and started working with Gina on the Johnson spreadsheets. He hoped the irregularity was nothing more than an isolated duplication. If there was even a whiff of corruption, he’d can the deal before the eager Eric Johnson had time to blink his eyes.
He rubbed his eyes. It had been nineteen hours since the early appointment with his trainer. He’d put in a long day and a long week for that matter. He needed to get some sleep. He felt tired and restless. He strolled down the hall to Gina’s office. He saw light spilling from the doorway, heard the sound of laughter. He peeked through the open door. There was Paige Waters sitting on a chair, bare feet tucked under her, reading glasses on, chewing her lip and holding a highlighter over a sheaf of papers. Gina breezed out of the office toward the washroom without seeing him. He went to the door and leaned in.
“Still working?” he said.
“Oh, hey, hello,” she said, unfolding her legs and putting her feet on the floor.
Her heart beat wildly just seeing him again. She couldn’t help but stare. Could a simple hello lead to a million things?
She smiled. “You’re still here, too.”
“I’m a workaholic.”
“Not good. One must always take the time to smell the roses.”
“I do.” He winked. “I always make excellent use of the little time I have.”
“That’s good.”
“And I’m never too busy to meet someone new. Besides, there has to be a reason for meeting you. I’m sure it was no accident.”
“Perhaps fate?”
“Perhaps.” He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. “Listen, I’ve had time to reconsider your offer. I’m interested.”
She took a deep breath as she composed herself. He was interested? Shit! After everything Gina told her, she thought it was best not to get involved. No matter how hot he might look with his shirt off.
“You are?”
“Yes, very.”
Heart racing, she raised her gaze and couldn’t help but notice his white teeth, perfect smile, sparkling eyes, his jaw dusted with light stubble, and chiseled features like a Greek god.
That toned chest straining the buttons of his dress shirt.
Those shoulders.
Those arms.
All those muscles.
Paige imagined moving her hands inside his suit jacket and...
He’s your fucking boss! Stop it!
She had to admit, though, it was tempting as hell. He was her boss. A billionaire. A CEO. He was sexy. And she would love to see those tats underneath that dress shirt he was wearing! He drove a Harley. And he had muscles that never seemed to end. She imagined being tangled up in his sheets, with him kissing the hell out of her.
It wasn’t wise to hop into a playboy’s bed, even if it was for pretend. Because there would be no way she could resist him. And then she could join all the others who had their hearts broken by him. Sure the money was beyond fantastic, but it would create too many problems for the next year. He wouldn’t be serious about her. She would be the joke of the office. Labeled a golddigger. She couldn’t handle a year of gossip behind her back. It just wasn’t worth it in the long run. She would just be polite and tell him that she couldn’t do it. She should’ve just kept her mouth shut in the first place and not said anything. But she couldn’t take it all back. Just be sweet and polite and straight to the point.
“I’m so sorry. But the offer is off the table now. I decided there’s enough drama in my life without begging you to let me help you. You’re a wonderful, handsome man. And I’m sure there will be lots of offers. Thanks anyway, though.”
He stared at her, dumbfounded for a moment.
Luke could not remember being turned down by a single female in the last two decades. Every woman he’d even looked at twice had fallen at his feet. Not to mention the women he never even bothered with—the ones who pursued him because of his looks or his money or his influence. There had been no shortage of admirers. Now, a secretary turned him down flat. She obviously didn’t realize who she was dealing with.
“You don’t seem to understand what I’m offering you. A million dollars for twelve months’ work.”
“I’m not Julia Roberts looking for a John.”
“By work, I mean a platonic arrangement in which you make public appearances as my fiancée, and then wife, engender the image of a happily married and settled couple, and then quietly divorce. The return on investment of time is excellent.”
“I understand that. But it wouldn’t look good for your image. You need a Victoria’s Secret model. Not a lowly secretary. Thanks anyway.”
She returned to her work as he stood there in shock. There was no way he was going to be dismissed and give up. Just as he wasn’t a man who ever heard the word no, he likewise wasn’t a man who gave up easily.
Chapter 5
OKAY, SO HE WAS DREAMY. Paige used the word ‘dreamy’ to describe him. If she were fifteen, she’d want his photo printed on her pillowcase. She was completely silly over his handsomeness, his whole alpha-male, commanding vibe. He had the charisma to lead armies into a lost cause, even when he was being kind of douchey.
That didn’t mean marrying him was a good idea, though. In fact, that made marrying him the absolute worst idea. Anyone who’s ever seen one of those TV movies where someone has to pretend to be engaged to get a promotion knows that the story is supposed to end with a kiss under the mistletoe.
Luke Conners might be many things—rich, powerful, formidable. He was not, however, the kiss under the mistletoe type. She could tell that in about the first four seconds. So, any kind of marriage-of-convenience scenario is usually contrived as a set-up for romance in movies. In real life, it’s probably more awkward and uncomfortable. Like, his big persuasive argument was that she’d get an excellent return on her time investmen
t. If that doesn’t scream carry-her-over-the-threshold, she wasn’t sure what did.
He didn’t exactly make it seem like twelve months of rose petals and bliss, that was for certain. She had enough drama of the real variety, the sister who couldn’t afford medical treatment sort. She didn’t need to manufacture a soap opera for her own amusement. Paxtyn needed all her attention right now, so she couldn’t afford to split her focus and go chasing after a too-hot, too-aloof CEO.
Paige didn’t even mention Luke’s proposal. She wasn’t about to tell Gina that she’d offered to marry their boss, THE boss of the entire company. Gina would tell her she was crazy. Or else she’d tell her she was crazy for taking the deal off the table.
She didn’t tell Paxtyn either. She had her own troubles to think of, namely the fact that her rent was due and neither of them could cover it. So Paige moved her sister in with her. Brady, Paxtyn’s friend, and his boyfriend Tyler helped with the packing and carrying. Tyler had a two bedroom, (he’s a big shot in advertising) so he let them store some of her stuff there. They probably would have asked her to move in with them, but she’s allergic to their dogs. Tyler has four tiny Yorkies who were spoiled beyond the telling of it and had more expensive haircuts than Paige did.
She settled Pax into the only bedroom, and Paige took the couch. It wasn’t a bad couch, and like Paige told her, she fell asleep there a lot anyway when she was watching TV at night. She could tell her sister felt bad about it and didn’t want to take the bed, but Paige couldn’t handle making her sleep on the couch.
“It’s payback for when we were kids, and you let me have the top bunk,” Paige told her.
“Right,” she said dubiously.
“You’d do the same for me, and we both know it,” Paige said.
“When I’m back on my feet, we’re swapping, and I’ll take the couch,” Paxtyn said.
“You bet,” Paige told her, wishing so hard that it would happen. That her sister would be well again, finish treatments, get to have a real life again. No more living from doctor’s appointment to doctor’s appointment and afraid to check the mail because of the bills.
At work, at least she didn’t have to worry about running into the CEO. It wasn’t like she’d ever met the guy in all the months she’d worked for Conners. Hell, she didn’t even recognize him as the CEO. He seldom strayed below the executive floors.
Still, when a sheaf of red roses arrived at her desk on Monday, she knew who they were from. His name wasn’t on the card. All it said was, I want that deal back on the table.
She grinned as she thought about the way that designer suit fit his broad chest and powerful shoulders to perfection, to make the most of his muscular physique. The man carried himself proudly, smiled like a movie star, and had the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen. She couldn’t stop thinking about his chiseled, handsome face, the stubble on his jaw, or his soft lips. Matter of fact, she couldn’t get those butterflies in her stomach to stop turning flirting somersaults.
This man was consuming her thoughts. No, it was her damn boss. And she knew getting involved with her playboy boss was bad news. No way it could end well.
All morning she couldn’t stop smiling. When Gina popped down during lunch, she demanded to know the identity of her mystery date. She wasn’t falling for the cover story that it was a company client like everyone else did. Paige said it was just someone she met last weekend, some conceited hot guy who didn’t like it when she turned him down.
“And he sent you flowers? You turn down a hot guy and get flowers. I turn down a fat guy and end up sitting at home watching Outlander alone. Unfair!” Gina said.
“He’s a total show off,” Paige said, which was true. She wanted to tell Gina the truth, but she felt like she shouldn’t reveal his plans for a fake fiancée. That was his business, and his business only. She didn’t want to spread office gossip.
Paige touched the flower petals almost lovingly. She’d never been sent flowers before, much less huge, stunning long-stem roses in perfect, fairytale red. She snapped a photo of them with her phone. Maybe she’d show it to Paxtyn later. Or maybe she’d just look at it herself and think how surprising and beautiful they were. It wouldn’t change her mind, of course. Technically, she should refuse the flowers, send back anything he tried to give her. But she liked them. Hell, she liked him.
The next day, her roses were still in full bloom. She loved coming back from the copier and seeing them in her office like a blaze of cheerful color. Like it or not, she had to admit that the flowers made her feel wanted and special. Paige caught herself wearing a skirt to the office instead of her usual pants. She argued with herself about going up to Gina’s office to bring her a coffee. There was a first-class coffee machine on the executive floor, so Gina hardly needed a Starbuck’s fix, but it was an excuse to run into Luke Conners. Paige tried to talk herself out of it, but soon she was on the elevator for the top floor.
As she swept toward Gina’s office in her pencil skirt and heels with a macchiato in tow, Paige wished she had more pride. She shouldn’t be running around the building trying to ‘accidentally’ encounter Luke Conners, a man she’d turned down. It was juvenile and silly. Why did this man affect her on such a deep level? She also sort of wished she’d taken her hair down so it would be loose on her shoulders. It was embarrassing, trying to be a dignified professional and still worrying if her hair looked pretty.
She found Gina’s office empty, so she left the coffee on the desk with a note. That left her with no excuse to hang out on the top floor. It wasn’t as if she could scurry around searching for Gina to give her the emergency news that she had coffee waiting on her desk. She was probably in a meeting. A meeting with Luke Conners perhaps. Paige bit her lip, regretting her upper floor gambit all the way down in the elevator.
Her plan didn’t work. She missed him. Maybe she should’ve come earlier.
When she returned to her desk, there was a box waiting there. A classy looking box—the matte white sort trimmed in a narrow border of uptown sliver. A designer’s name was embossed on the lid.
Her eyes widened. “What?” she whispered to herself.
She lifted the lid to find a pair of sumptuous, pale pink designer shoes in her size with a note that read: You were barefoot when we met. Those electric pink toes deserve something nice to wear. She felt a blush color her cheeks. She lifted the beautiful shoes from their fragile white tissue paper, held them up and looked at them from every angle, every tiny, perfect stitch in the supple leather, the smooth sole and low, flat heel.
He remembered the heels were killing her. The man took notice of detail. She kicked off her high heels and stepped into the new shoes. They seemed to mold to her feet, light and soft. She stood up, marveling at the perfect fit. How had he known her shoe size? Surely that wasn’t in her HR file. Her Social Security number, yes. Her work history, yes. Size eight narrow? No way. That’s not something you can guess by looking at a person. He remembered her toenail polish, her bare feet. He’d really seen her. She wanted to twirl around in the lavish shoes, but she tucked them safely back in the box and put her own heels back on. She slid the box under her desk and got back to work. She peeked at the box several times like a secret. Her heart pumped harder, and her lips curved into a smile when she saw the shoebox, such a thoughtful and beautiful present.
On her way to the water cooler to get a drink, she saw him. Luke Conners. A sighting in the wild. It was so unprecedented she wanted to whip out her phone and take a picture just to prove she’d seen the man below the thirtieth floor. She hurried toward him.
“What are you doing down here?” she said with a smile.
He grinned. “Paige, you might not realize this, but I’m the chief executive of this company. I have security clearance to ride the elevators,” he deadpanned.
She laughed. “It’s just...well, I have never seen you on this floor.”
“Maybe you weren’t looking hard enough,” he said, “I toured the entire buildin
g when I was hired. I promise I’ve been to all the floors.”
“You’re teasing me,” she said flatly.
“Yes, I am. It’s entertaining. You enjoy working down here?”
“Yeah, I like it. Conners has a really positive corporate culture and—”
“Spare me the cheerleading. Do you like working in this office?”
“It’s a hell of a lot better than being lobby gatekeeper at the Winston Building. I have an office here, so I can work without a hundred distractions. Not to mention, I don’t have to face all the irate walk-ins who insist they don’t need an appointment to see anyone they want. If there’s one thing secretarial work taught me, it’s that a lot of people are arrogant, and the rest are basically stupid.”
“Well, I suppose I did ask what you thought of working here...” he said, hands in his pockets.
“The people here are great. The walk-ins at the Winston lobby were mostly idiots though. It’s refreshingly idiot-free here.”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say idiot-free. Perhaps there are a reduced number of idiots per floor compared to your previous job, but there are several VP’s I’d describe as complete dumbasses.”
“Did you say dumbass? I thought if you went to Exeter they taught you to say something much fancier than dumbass. Maybe you can say it in French?”
“L’idiot isn’t as satisfying to say. I’ve spent hours with these people, trying to explain the most basic principles of running a publicly traded conglomerate, but their concerns are entirely insular.”
“You mean they’re focused on their own departments?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t that why they were hired? To show stewardship over their narrow purview?”
“They seem incapable of seeing the larger picture, the direction this company must go. My grandfather didn’t leave a son to take up the reins. There’s only myself, and my views are so different from his that it’s been a rough transition. The board and the stockholders are used to Grandfather’s steady patience, his conservative investments, the annual anniversary gala for him and Grandmother.”