Jo Leigh - Ms. Taken

Jane touched his arm with delicate fingers. He swallowed, trying desperately to keep his cool. To not let her see that her touch had sent a jolt through him.

“You’re all I’ve thought about for months. In every dream. In every shower. It’s been you. Just…you.”

It was time to leave. She was his secretary—she had temporary amnesia. She thought they were a couple. Time to run as fast as he could in any direction. But her fingers held him captive.

Her mouth, her moist scarlet lips, curved once more into the smile of a temptress. Those eyes…

Dammit. He grabbed her arms with his hands, pulling her close to his now stirring body. His mouth covered hers and he stole her very breath.

Crazy. He was insane. This situation was insane.

But a loaded pistol couldn’t have stopped him. Hell, a whole army couldn’t have stopped him from making love to his “fiancée.”

Dear Reader,

The idea for Ms. Taken kind of bonked me over the head, much like the little incident that happens to Jane in the story. I was minding my own business and I was “struck” with the notion that sometimes we hide our real, vibrant, charming inner selves because we think we should. That people wouldn’t understand.

And then I thought—so what? Who cares what other people think? Being true to ourselves…ah, that’s something worth fighting for. Worth living for.

Thus Jane was born, filled with doubts, hiding behind a wall of propriety, living the life she was supposed to. Her inner world, however, was filled with lust and love and romance and a particularly yummy boss named Charles.

That is until the fateful day when she was minding her own business and—Oops. I don’t want to spoil the rest. Just let me say that working on THE PERSONAL TOUCH! miniseries was a joy from beginning to end. I hope you see a little of yourself in Jane, and that it won’t take a conk on the head to show you how wonderful you are.

I love to hear from readers. You can contact me at www.joleigh.com.

Best wishes,

Jo Leigh

HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

699—SINGLE SHERIFF SEEKS

727—TANGLED SHEETS

756—HOT AND BOTHERED

Ms. Taken

Jo Leigh

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To Debbi and Peter,

for making me (and the kitties)

part of the family.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue

ONE ORANGE. Five Triscuits. Three baby carrots. One ounce Jarlsberg cheese, cubed. Two Oreo cookies.

Jane Dobson smiled at the perfection that was her lunch. The napkin, a new color for her, blue, had unfolded on her desk in a nice, neat square to reveal each item of food just as she’d packed it this morning. No crumbs. Not a one. That Hello Kitty lunch pail was really doing the job.

Peeling the orange came next, which wasn’t easy because her nails were so short. She tried not to bite them, honestly. But it was hard to catch herself in the act. Mostly, she’d just notice her fingers as she typed, and the nails would be bitten to the quick.

Oh, well. It’s not as if she was a hand model or anything. Besides, short nails made her really fast on the computer. She’d clocked herself at nearly one hundred words-per only last week. Four words more than a month ago.

She ended up biting the orange peel, getting a squirt of that really sour stuff in her mouth. Grimacing, she turned her gaze to her special project, and the bad taste disappeared. Christmas cards were strewn across the right side of her desk. Some were very religious, with angels and wise men and stables. Some were whimsical, with animated reindeer, Santa in all sorts of situations, and several grinning mice. Then there were the more difficult kind. The ones with just words. Oh, sure, the calligraphy was always great, but how many Merry Christmases and Seasons Greetings could she put in her collage?

She popped a cube of cheese into her mouth and chewed it very slowly. She always ate slowly, and it drove her family nuts, but too bad. She wasn’t ashamed of her eccentricities. They made her special.

“Girl, you better not let him see you messing with those cards.”

Jane looked up to see Kadisha King, a friend from the secretarial pool, standing right next to her desk. Kadisha held a manila folder against her chest as if it were top secret. Jane hadn’t even heard her approach. “It’s Christmas.”

“He doesn’t care. Mr. Warren says no personal decorations at the desk, and that’s what he means.”

“Surely Christmas is an exception.”

Kadisha shook her head in that knowing way of hers. “Fine. Do your paper dolls. But do you know how many personal assistants Mr. Warren has had in the last five years?”

Jane shook her head. She’d only been at Warren Industries for a year, and she wasn’t very good at gossip.

“Eleven. You do the math.” Kadisha tapped the manila folder with one perfectly manicured nail. Then she went to Delia’s desk and put the folder in the in box.

Delia Robinson was Mr. Warren’s executive assistant and she was on vacation until January 5, which meant that all the other secretaries had to work overtime. And that Jane got to see Mr. Charles Warren a whole lot more.

At the thought, the myriad cards on her right faded away. She continued to eat her food, but she didn’t taste it. She might as well have had a sign around her neck: Preoccupied. Check Back in Ten Minutes. All she could see was Charles. Her poor, sweet, misunderstood Charles.

He smiled at her in that adorable, gruff way. A stranger would have thought nothing of it, but Jane…she knew the smile was an extraordinary event. It was filled with love, with mischief, with gratitude. Charles said it himself—what would he do without her?

He turned to their Christmas tree, a massive Douglas fir fit for the White House, and put an ornament on a limb. She shook her head, teasing him gently, then moved the ornament up half an inch.

“Of course,” Charles said, his voice filled with adoration and admiration. “That’s the perfect spot. I never would have seen it. Is there nothing you can’t do?”

She blushed demurely, which always drove Charles wild. He pulled her into his arms and—

The buzz, so loud it probably woke up half of New Jersey, slashed through her daydream. She looked down to find nothing but orange peel on her napkin. Hmm. She didn’t remember anything past peeling. But there was no time to wonder about all that.

Grabbing her notebook, she dashed past Delia’s fortress of a desk to Mr. Warren’s office. Before she entered the great man’s domain, she straightened her skirt—tartan, on sale at Barneys for twenty-two dollars, and you couldn’t even see the stain. She adjusted her mohair sweater, five dollars at Goodwill, thank you very much. And of course, she made sure her tartan beret was at the perfect jaunty angle. When she was certain everything was tip-top, she knocked quietly on the thick wooden door, then stepped through the portal.