Teresa Southwick - One Night with the Boss

“How many men have you kissed, Liv?”

“Enough. Ask anyone.” The pulse in her throat fluttered frantically. “Unlike you, I don’t have a reputation for not being much in the kissing department.”

That was a semi-desperate attempt to create a diversion, but Brady was intrigued, in the mood to push the advantage. And he couldn’t stop looking at her mouth.

“I’ve never had any complaints about my technique. You shouldn’t believe rumors.”

“That’s hard to do without any contradicting data …” She shrugged, but it was uneasy, not the nonchalant gesture she was going for.

“Well, then, with my reputation on the line, I feel obligated to provide you with the necessary information to prove myself.”

Her mouth dropped open, and Brady forgot about his reputation and everything else except the need to taste her lips. He closed the distance between them and pulled her close.

“Here goes.”

* * *

The Bachelors of Blackwater Lake:

They won’t be single for long!

One Night

with the Boss

Teresa Southwick

www.millsandboon.co.uk

TERESA SOUTHWICKlives with her husband in Las Vegas, the city that reinvents itself every day. An avid fan of romance novels, she is delighted to be living out her dream of writing for Mills & Boon.

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To Claudia Haugh Stepan with thanks for being my friend.

Contents

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

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Extract

Chapter One

Olivia Lawson would rather walk naked in a hailstorm than say what she had to say to her boss.

Again.

She hesitated outside his office—which also happened to be in his house, because it was a really big house. Brady O’Keefe owned and headed an internet conglomerate and, except for her, all of his one hundred plus employees worked remotely from leased office spaces in L.A., Chicago, New York and Austin. He managed everything effortlessly from his six-thousand-square-foot command center in a very exclusive, very upscale housing development in Blackwater Lake, Montana.

Her parents still lived in the house where she’d grown up, several doors down from the O’Keefes. She’d known Brady since they were kids and had worked as his administrative assistant for the last five years. Delivering the news that the professional relationship was about to end wouldn’t be easy. She knew that because she’d tried to do it twice before.

As much as she loved her job, and dare she say it, cared for her boss, she had to make a break. She saw Brady not as her boss, but as a man. A handsome, charming, intelligent man. The problem was, he hadn’t noticed her as a woman. As far as Brady was concerned she could be a piece of office furniture. She was as necessary as a computer, desk or stapler. The reality had finally hit her that this wasn’t going to change and unless she wanted to end up a spinster with too many cats, she had to leave.

His door was open, so she knocked on the frame of the doorway separating their offices and heard the usual grunt that meant she should come in. He was at the familiar spot behind his L-shaped desk, staring at the computer screen. His back was to her and, as always, he didn’t look up.

“Brady, I need to talk to you.” His focus was extraordinary and normally she was awed by it. Not today. “There’s a fire in the kitchen and I called nine-one-one.”

“Uh-huh.”

In the spirit of today, this was the first day of the rest of her life; today was the day she was going to tell him that everything was going to change. But she couldn’t do that until he was listening. Time to get creative.

She walked over to his desk and picked up the orange foam rubber ball that he squeezed when deep in thought. After crushing it in her palm, she threw it at his head. Hard.

He glanced over his shoulder. “The kitchen’s not really on fire, is it?”

“So you heard me.”

“I always do.”

If only that were true. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

“I guess it’s important enough to hurl spheres at me.” He slid his chair away from the computer, swiveled and faced her. Then he picked up the orange ball that had landed on his desk. Squeezing it he said, “Okay. You have my undivided attention.”

Since turning fifteen years old, she’d wondered how it would feel to have all his concentration focused on her. This token of his interest wasn’t what she’d had in mind, but sadly, it was all she would ever know. And that wasn’t enough for her. But this was a poor substitute. She had to get away before her spirit shriveled and disappeared.

“I’m giving my notice.”

“Of what?”

For a smart guy, he could be irritatingly dense. Or he was deliberately deflecting, hoping to get her off message. Not this time. This time was going to be different.

“I’m tendering my resignation.”

“You’re leaving me? There’s nothing tender about that.”

“Not you.” That was a lie of self-protection. No way could she tell him how right he actually was. “I’m leaving your company.”

“You’re abandoning me?”

“You’re so melodramatic. Not everything is about you.”

He squeezed the orange ball until his knuckles turned white. “Didn’t we just go through this?”

“Not just.”

“Same time last year.”

“Pretty close,” she allowed.

It was exactly the same time. There was something about being a few weeks into a new year that made a person want to change their life. And she should have known better than anyone that this man would remember, because he had a mind like a steel trap.

Not to mention a face and body that could make him a model or movie star instead of the megasuccessful businessman he was. Dark brown hair, short and carelessly mussed, complemented the scruff on his cheeks and jaw. He probably hadn’t shaved because he didn’t have to. There were no outside meetings today. No hot date later. Since she kept his calendar, she knew about things like that.

He certainly wasn’t trying to impress her. She thought he looked amazing no matter what. Not that he cared.

Olivia secretly sighed over the scruff—and everything else about her boss. Piercing was the only way to describe his green eyes, which snapped with intelligence and wicked humor. The casual white cotton shirt and worn jeans perfectly showcased his broad shoulders, muscular chest and flat abdomen that were the result of disciplined workouts on the state-of-the-art equipment in his upstairs gym. He could be People magazine’s sexiest CEO and most eligible bachelor.

She would miss the view when she was gone, but sacrifices had to be made for the greater good.

“Okay.” He nodded as if he’d made up his mind. “Based on past data from this time last year, giving notice is your way of asking for a raise.”

“Not really.” When she tried to quit last year, he’d offered her more money, but that wasn’t why she’d stayed.