Not Strictly Business!: Prodigal Son / The Boss and Miss Baxter / The Baby Deal

Not Strictly

Business!

SUSAN MALLERY

WENDY WARREN

VICTORIA PADE

www.millsandboon.co.uk

PRODIGAL SON

SUSAN MALLERY

SUSAN MALLERY is the bestselling and award-winning author of over fifty books.

Chapter One

Samantha Edwards had never minded the interview process, even when she was the one looking for a job. But having seen her prospective boss naked made things just a little tricky.

The good news was Jack Hanson was unlikely to bring up that single night they’d shared. Not only wasn’t it relevant to her employment application, it had been nearly ten years ago. She doubted he remembered anything about the event.

Well, not just the one event. Her recollection was completely clear. There had been three “events” that night, each of them more spectacular than the one before.

“Ms. Edwards? Mr. Hanson will see you now.”

Samantha looked up at the sixty-something secretary behind the modern metal-and-glass desk in the foyer in front of Jack’s office.

“Thank you,” Samantha said as she rose and moved toward the closed door.

She paused to tug on her cropped jacket. Her clothing choices had been deliberately conservative—for her, at least. Flowing black slacks, a cream-and-black checked jacket over a cream silk shirt. It killed her to avoid color, but ten years ago Jack Hanson had been the poster boy for straitlaced conservative types. She was willing to guess that hadn’t changed.

Except he hadn’t been the least bit conservative in bed.

The wayward thought popped into her head just as she pushed open the door to his office. She did her best to ignore it as she drew in a deep breath, reminded herself how much she wanted this job and walked confidently toward the man standing behind his desk.

“Hello, Jack,” she said, shaking hands with him. “It’s been a long time.”

“Samantha. Good to see you.”

He studied her with a thoroughness that made her breath catch. How much of his steady perusal was about sizing up the candidate and how much was about their past?

She decided two could play at that game and did a little looking of her own.

He was taller than she’d remembered and he still seemed to exude power and confidence. She wanted to say that was a natural attribute for someone born to money, but she had a feeling Jack would have been a winner regardless of his upbringing. He was simply that kind of man.

Time had been kind, but then time had always preferred men to women, she thought humorously. Jack’s face showed character in addition to chiseled features. She wondered if life ever got boring for the physically perfect. While he had to deal with things like broad shoulders and a smile that would have most of the female population lining up to be seduced, she had unruly red hair that defied taming, a stick-straight body, small breasts and a butt that could only be described as bony. Was that fair?

“Please,” he said, motioning to one of the chairs. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks.”

He did the same, claiming his side of the desk. He looked good there—in charge and powerful. But she happened to know he was new to the job.

“I read about your father’s death a couple of months ago,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” He motioned to the office. “That’s why I’m working here. The board asked me to step in and take care of the company for a while.”

“I’d wondered,” she admitted. “Last I’d heard, you were practicing law.”

“It would be my preference,” he told her.

“But you did so well at business school.” She would know—they’d been competing for the top spot, often by working together. He’d been the detail-intensive, organized half and she’d been the creative member of the team.

“Hated every minute of it,” he said. “I realized I preferred the law.”

Jack thought about the day he’d told his father he wasn’t entering the family business. George Hanson hadn’t been able to comprehend that his oldest son wasn’t interested in learning how to run a multimillion-dollar company. The older man had been disappointed and furious. It had been the only time Jack hadn’t done what was expected of him.

Ironically, today he was exactly where his father had wanted him to be.

But not for long, he reminded himself.

“I guess your father’s death changed your plans,” Samantha said.

He nodded. “I’m on a three-month leave of absence from my law firm. Until then Hanson Media Group gets my full attention.”

“Are you sure you want the Donald Trump act to be temporary?”

“I’m not the tycoon type.”

She smiled. “I would say you have potential. Word on the street is you’re bringing in a lot of new people.”

“That’s true. My father hated to hand over control of anything. He was still the head of at least three departments. With a company this big, no one has the time or energy to run them and the rest of the business. I’m looking for the best people possible to join the team.”

“I’m flattered.”

“It’s the truth. You’re only here because you’re good. I need creative types. It’s not my strong suit.”

She smiled. “A man who can admit his weaknesses. How unusual.”

“Samantha, the only reason I passed marketing was because I was on your team. You carried me through the whole class.”

“You tutored me through cost accounting. We’re even.”

She shifted slightly as she spoke, causing her slacks to briefly hug her slender thighs. The other candidates had been highly skilled with incredible résumés, but unlike Samantha, they’d come in dressed in business suits, looking equally comfortable in a board room or law office.

Not Samantha. Despite the conservative colors, she was anything but ordinary. Maybe it was the bright green parrot pin on her lapel or the dangling earrings that hung nearly to her shoulders. Or maybe it was that her long, fiery red hair seemed to have a will and a life of its own.

She was not a conservative businessperson. She was avant-garde and wildly creative. There was an independence about her he admired.

“You left New York,” he said. “Why?”

“I wanted to make a change. I’d been working there since graduation.”

He studied her as she spoke, looking for nuances. There were plenty, but none of them worried him. Per his research, she was coming off a divorce. Her previous employer had done his best to keep her from leaving.

“You have to know this is a dream job,” she said. “You’re offering complete creative control of Internet development, with more than a million-dollar budget. How could anyone resist that? It’s my idea of heaven.”

“Good. It’s my idea of hell.”

She smiled. Her full mouth curved and he felt himself responding. Subtle tension filled his body.

“You always did hate a blank page,” she said, her smile widening to a grin.

“You always did hate rules,” he told her.

“Me?” She raised her eyebrows. “You were happy enough to break them when it suited your purpose.”

He shrugged. “Whatever it takes to get what I want. What I want now is a great staff and the company running smoothly. Let’s get down to specifics.”

He passed her information on several current Internet campaigns. After she’d flipped through the material, they discussed possible directions for growth.

Samantha became more animated as the conversation progressed. “Children,” she told him. “There’s so much we could do for kids. After-school programs on the Web. Not just the usual help with homework, but interactive programs linking kids all over the country.”

As she spoke, she leaned toward him, gesturing with her hands to make her point. “We can also cosponsor events with popular movies or TV shows.”

“Cross-advertising,” he said.

“Yes. The potential is huge. And that’s just younger kids. I have even more ideas for teens.”

“They’re the ones with the disposable income and the time to spend it,” he said. When she raised her eyebrows in surprise, he added, “I’ve been doing my research.”

“Apparently. It’s true. With more single-parent families and more families with both parents working, teens are often a real source of information on what items to purchase. They actually influence adults’ decisions on everything from breakfast cereal to cars. Plus they’re computer savvy, which means they’re comfortable downloading information. To them, the Internet is as much a part of their lives as phones were for us.”

“So you’re interested in the job,” he said.

“I distinctly recall the word heaven coming up in the conversation. I wasn’t kidding. I’d love the chance to grow this part of the company.”

Her excitement was tangible energy in the office. He liked that. She’d always thrown herself into whatever it was she was doing and he doubted that had changed.

He’d been surprised to see her name on the short list of candidates, but pleasantly so. He and Samantha had worked well together at grad school. They’d been a good team. Just as important, she was someone he could trust.

“The job is yours, if you want it,” he told her. “The formal offer would come from my human-resources person in the morning.”

Her green eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Why are you shocked? You’re talented, qualified and someone I’m comfortable working with.”

“You make me sound like a rescue dog.”

He grinned. “If I could find one that could work a computer …”

She laughed. “Okay, yes. I’m interested. But I have to warn you, I’m very much the creative type. I’ll want control of my staff.”

“Agreed.”

“We’re not going to be wearing three-piece suits.”

“I don’t care if you wear frog costumes, as long as you do the job.”

She didn’t look convinced. “This isn’t like the law, Jack. You can’t always find an answer in a book.”

“Can I get disapproving and difficult before you give me the lecture?” he asked, mildly amused by her concern. “I get it—creative people are different. Not a problem.”

“Okay. Point taken.”

She rose. He stood as well. In heels she was only a couple of inches shorter than him. He walked around the table and held out his hand.

“Leave your number with Mrs. Wycliff. You’ll be hearing from my HR office first thing in the morning.”

She placed her palm against his. As he had when they’d touched a few minutes ago, he felt a slight sizzle, followed by a definite sensation of warmth somewhere south of his belt.

Ten years after the fact and Samantha Edwards still had the ability to drop him to his knees. Sexually speaking. Not that he would act on the information or let her know how she got to him. They were going to work together, nothing more.

He released her hand and walked her to the door. “How soon can you start?” he asked.

“The first part of next week,” she said.

“Good. I hold a staff meeting every Tuesday morning. I look forward to seeing you there.”

She hesitated before opening the door. “I’m excited about this opportunity, Jack. I want to make a difference.”

“I’m sure you will.”

She looked into his eyes. “I wasn’t sure you’d consider me. Because of our past.”

He pretended not to know what she was talking about. He wanted to make her say it. “Why would knowing you in business school make a difference?”

“Not that.”

He waited.

Color flared on her cheeks, but she continued to hold his gaze. “Because of what happened that night. When we …” She cleared her throat. “You know. Were intimate.”

“Water under the bridge,” he said easily, mostly because it was true. He’d never been one to dwell on the past. Not even on a night that had made him believe in miracles. Probably because in the bright light of day, he’d learned that dreams were for fools and miracles didn’t really happen.

Promptly at four in the afternoon, Mrs. Wycliff knocked on Jack’s office door.

“Come in,” he said as he saved the work on his computer, then looked up at his father’s former assistant.

“Here are the daily reports,” she said, placing several folders on his desk.

“Thank you.”

He frowned as he looked at the thick stack that would make up his evening reading. In theory, he knew plenty about running a company. He had the MBA to prove it. But theory and reality often had little in common and this was one of those times. If one of the employees was accused of homicide—that he could handle. Right now, a charge of first-degree murder seemed simple when compared with the day-to-day ups and downs of a publicly traded corporation.

“How is the staff holding up?” he asked the older woman. Although he was confident Mrs. Wycliff hadn’t been born into her position, he couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t worked for his father.

She clutched the back of the chair and shook her head in refusal when he invited her to take a seat.

“They miss him, of course. Your father was well liked in the company. Of course he would be. He was a good man.”

Jack was careful to keep his expression neutral. George Hanson had been a man of business. He had lived and breathed his company, while his children had grown up on the fringes of his life. That wasn’t Jack’s definition of good.

“Several people have stopped by to tell me how much they miss him,” Jack told her. It happened at least once a day and he never knew what to say in return.

She smiled. “We all appreciate you stepping in to run things. Hanson Media Group has been home to a lot of us for a long time. We’d hate to see anything happen to the company.”

“Happen?” He’d only been on board a couple of weeks. From what he’d been able to find out, the only problems seemed to be his father’s need to micromanage departments. Once Jack got the right people in place, he figured the firm would run smoothly.

Mrs. Wycliff smoothed her already perfect gray hair and absently fingered the bun at the back of her neck. “Your father was very proud of you. Did you know that?”

Jack wasn’t fooled by the obvious change in subject, but he figured he would do a little digging on his own before he grilled his assistant for information.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said.

She smiled. “He often talked about how well you were doing at your law firm. Of course he’d wanted you to come to work for the family business, but if the law made you happy, he was happy, too.”

Jack tried to reconcile that description with the angry conversations he’d frequently shared with his father. George Hanson had tried everything from bribes to threatening to cut Jack out of the will if he didn’t come work for the company.

He’d long suspected his father had shown one side of his personality to the world and kept the other side more private.

“We had a deal,” he said. “After law school, I got my MBA. Then I decided which I liked better.” He shrugged. “It wasn’t much of a choice.”

“You followed your heart and your talents,” Mrs. Wycliff told him. “That’s what your father always said.” She smiled. “He brought in champagne the day you made partner.”

“Junior partner,” Jack corrected absently. Champagne? When he couldn’t get hold of his father, he’d left a message with Helen, his stepmother, telling her about the promotion. She’d sent a card and a stylish new briefcase as a gift. Ever polite, Helen had signed both their names, but Jack had known it was all really from her. His father had never bothered to call him back.

“He was a good man,” Mrs. Wycliff said. “Whatever happens, you have to remember that.”

“That’s the second time you’ve been cryptic,” he told her. “Want to tell me why?”

She had dark blue eyes and the kind of bone structure that spoke of great beauty in her youth. If she had been a different kind of woman, he would have suspected something between her and his father. But while George might have been interested, Jack was confident Mrs. Wycliff herself would not have approved.

“I can’t,” she said, her voice low.

“Can’t or won’t?”

She clutched the back of the chair more firmly and met his direct gaze. “I don’t know anything. If I did, I would tell you. You have my complete loyalty.”

“But there’s something?”

She hesitated. “A feeling. I’m sorry. I can’t be more specific. There’s nothing more to say.”

He’d known the woman all of two weeks, yet he would have bet she wasn’t lying. She didn’t know. Or she was a damn fine actress.

Feelings. As a rule, he didn’t trust emotion, but gut responses were different. He’d changed his line of questioning during a trial more than once based on a feeling and each time he’d been right.

“If you learn anything,” he began.

“I’ll tell you. I’ve been talking to people. Listening.” She swallowed. “I lost my husband a few years ago. We never had children and a lot of our friends have retired and moved south. This company is all I have. I’ll do anything to protect it.”

“Thank you.”

She nodded and left.

Mysteries he didn’t want or need. As for Mrs. Wycliff, while he appreciated her concern and her willingness to provide him with information, who was to say if they had similar goals? She wanted Hanson Media Group to go on forever, he wanted out. If those two objectives came into conflict, he had a feeling his once-loyal secretary would become a bitter enemy.

With employment came paperwork, Samantha thought two days later as she sat in an empty office and filled out her formal job application, along with pages for insurance, a security pass, a parking space and emergency contact information.

She worked quickly, still unable to believe she’d landed her dream job with little or no effort on her part. She’d been so excited to get going, she’d come in before her start date to do the paperwork.

“Thank you, Helen,” she murmured, knowing her friend had somehow managed to get her name on the short list of candidates. She’d wanted to mention that to Jack during their interview, but on Helen’s advice had kept quiet. For reasons that made no sense to Samantha, Jack, along with his siblings, thought Helen was little more than a trophy wife.

Hope I’m around when they all discover that there’s a very functioning brain behind those big eyes, Samantha thought.

She signed the application and moved on to the next piece of paper.

“Morning.”

She looked up and saw Jack in the doorway to the small office. He looked tall, sexy and just-out-of-the-shower tempting. What was it about a freshly shaved man that got her body to pay attention?

“Hi,” she said.

“I heard you were here taking care of details.” He leaned against the door frame. “Thanks for accepting the job.”

“I’m the grateful one,” she said with a laugh. “I can’t wait to get started. But first there’s all this to work through.” She patted the papers. “I’ve been promised that if I do everything correctly, I get my own ID badge at the end of the day. And the key to my office.”

“I heard that rumor, too. My intrepid assistant informed me we already have a meeting scheduled.”

“Monday afternoon,” she said. “I’ll be working all weekend, bringing myself up to speed. I’ll want to discuss parameters with you before I set my team on the task.”

“You’re not expected to work 24-7,” he said.

“I know, but I’m excited and it’s not as if I have a lot of things planned. I’ve just moved to Chicago. I’m still finding my way around.”

“All the more reason to get out and explore.”

She tilted her head. “Hmm, is my new boss discouraging me from working? That’s a new one.”

“I don’t want you to burn out your first week. I need you around longer than that.”

She knew they were just joking around, and she enjoyed that she and Jack seemed to have kept some remnant of their friendship intact. But why did she have to be so aware of him?

Even now, with him standing several feet away, she would swear she could hear him breathing. Heat seemed to radiate from his body, in a way designed to make her melt.

It had been like this before, she thought glumly. Back in grad school, she’d spent two years in a constant state of sexual arousal. She’d needed the friendship more than she’d wanted a lover, so she’d ignored the physical attraction between them. She’d been careful to always seem disinterested.

Until that one night when she’d been unable to stand it a second longer.

“I promise to explore often and well,” she said. “But later. Right now I want to get to work.”

He held up both hands. “Okay. I give up. Be a slave to your job. I’ll stop complaining.” He dropped his hands to his sides. “Are you already settled in your new place?”

“I have exactly two suitcases in my hotel room. It didn’t take long to settle.”

“Aren’t you going to get an apartment?”

“Eventually. I’m too busy to look around right now.” A partial truth. Apartment hunting would give her too much time to think. She wanted to avoid bursts of introspection whenever possible.

“My building has executive rentals,” he said. “They come fully furnished and are rented by the month. That’s how I found the place. I took a two-month lease, found I liked the building and bought something larger.”

“Sounds interesting,” she said cautiously.

He grinned. “Don’t worry. It’s a huge high-rise. We’d never run into each other.”

Did he think she thought that was a problem? Okay, yeah, maybe it was. She had a feeling that running into Jack outside of work could be a complication, if not outright dangerous for her mental health. But hadn’t she promised herself to face life head on? Wasn’t she done with hiding from the truth?

“I appreciate the information,” she said. “Do you have a phone number or person to contact?”

“I have a business card in my office. Let me go get it.”

He walked down the hallway. Samantha turned her attention back to the paperwork in front of her, but instead of seeing it, she saw the empty apartment she’d left in New York only three weeks before.

She’d thought she would always live in New York. She’d thought she knew what to expect from her life. Funny how a lifetime of dreams could be packed up into a half-dozen boxes and the man she’d once trusted to love her forever had turned out to be nothing more than a lying thief.

Chapter Two

“We’re working on the, ah, upgrades right now,” Arnie said as he shifted in his seat. “The, ah, first set should be, ah, ready by the end of the month.”

Jack had to consciously keep himself from squirming in sympathy. In his law practice his clients were usually so distracted by the charges brought against them that they didn’t have the energy to be nervous and in court he didn’t care if his cross-examination upset a hostile witness.

But Arnie wasn’t a client or a hostile witness. He was a techno-geek from the information technology department, or IT, and he was obviously uncomfortable meeting with his new boss.

Jack glanced down at the report in front of him, then back at Arnie. “Sounds like you’re totally on schedule,” he said, then smiled at the other man. “Good for you.”

Arnie swallowed. “Thanks. We’ve been trying. Roger, my, ah, boss, sort of said we had to. Oh, but not in a bad way.”

“I appreciate your effort,” Jack said, wishing Roger, Arnie’s boss, had been available for the meeting. Jack couldn’t take much more of the poor man’s suffering.