Robyn Donald - Unbuttoned by the Boss - Unbuttoned by Her Maverick Boss / The Far Side of Paradise / Rub It In

Unbuttoned by the Boss

Unbuttoned by Her Maverick Boss

Natalie Anderson

The Far Side of Paradise

Robyn Donald

Rub It In

Kira Sinclair

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Cover

Title Page Unbuttoned by the Boss Unbuttoned by Her Maverick Boss Natalie Anderson The Far Side of Paradise Robyn Donald Rub It In Kira Sinclair www.millsandboon.co.uk

Unbuttoned by Her Maverick Boss Unbuttoned by Her Maverick Boss Natalie Anderson

About the Author Possibly the only librarian who got told off herself for talking too much, NATALIE ANDERSON decided writing books might be more fun than shelving them—and, boy, is it that! Especially writing romance—it’s the realisation of a lifetime dream kick-started by many an afternoon spent devouring Grandma’s Mills & Boon ® novels … She lives in New Zealand, with her husband and four gorgeous-but-exhausting children. Swing by her website any time—she’d love to hear from you: www.natalie-anderson.com .

Dedication Kathleen Anderson, Kath Hadfield, Grandma. Twenty years have passed since you left us, but you know I still have your library of M&B—and I’m adding my own to it now. Wish you were here so I could show you. But I know you know, and you know you live on in our hearts. Always will. Thank you for giving me the belief in everlasting love.

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

The Far Side of Paradise

About the Author

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

Rub It In

About the Author

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Copyright

Unbuttoned by Her Maverick Boss

Natalie Anderson

Possibly the only librarian who got told off herself for talking too much, NATALIE ANDERSONdecided writing books might be more fun than shelving them—and, boy, is it that! Especially writing romance—it’s the realisation of a lifetime dream kick-started by many an afternoon spent devouring Grandma’s Mills & Boon ®novels …

She lives in New Zealand, with her husband and four gorgeous-but-exhausting children. Swing by her website any time—she’d love to hear from you: www.natalie-anderson.com.

Kathleen Anderson, Kath Hadfield, Grandma. Twenty years have passed since you left us, but you know I still have your library of M&B—and I’m adding my own to it now. Wish you were here so I could show you. But I know you know, and you know you live on in our hearts. Always will. Thank you for giving me the belief in everlasting love.

TIME stood still for no man. And Sophy Braithwaite didn’t stand still either.

She tapped her toes on the concrete floor. Slowly at first, just releasing a smidge of the energy pushing under her skin, but after a while the small rapping sound sped up.

The receptionist had directed her straight up the stairs to the office—the sign on the door ensured she’d found the one the woman meant. So she was in the right place at the right time.

Waiting.

She turned and studied the pictures on the wall beside her. Picturesque scenes of Italian countryside—she figured they were Cara’s choice. Her assessment and appreciation took less than a minute. Then she looked again at the monstrosity masquerading as the desk. Good thing she wasn’t into corporate espionage or fraud. She’d had ample time to rifle through files for sensitive info. Mind you, given the mess it was in, she wouldn’t even find anything as useful as a pen in there. The papers were piled high in dangerously unstable towers. The unopened mail had long since filled the in-tray and now cascaded across the computer keyboard. Cara hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said she’d left it in a mess. If anything she’d been understating the case.

‘I’ve just not had my head there and it all got away from me. I feel so terrible now with this happening,’ she’d said.

‘This’ was the early arrival of her baby. Six weeks premature, the tiny sweetie was still in hospital and Cara was hollow-eyed and anxious. The last thing she needed was to be worrying about the part-time admin job she did for a local charity.

Sophy’s irritation with the situation spiked. Where was he, then? This Lorenzo Hall—supposed hotshot of the wine industry and darling of the fundraising divas—the CEO of this chaos?

‘Lorenzo’s so busy at the moment. With Alex and Dani away he’s dealing with everything on his own.’ Cara had sounded so concerned for him when Sophy’s sister, Victoria, had handed the phone to her. ‘It would be just brilliant if you could go in there and stop him worrying about the Whistle Fund at least.’

Well, Sophy wasn’t here to stop Lorenzo Hall from worrying, she was here to stop Cara worrying.

She realised she’d been subconsciously tapping in time to a rhythmic thunking sound coming from a distance. As if someone were using a hammer or something but speeding up, then stopping, then starting again. She shook her head free of the annoyance and looked around at the chaos again. It would take a bit of time to sort through. She wished she could say no. But then, she never said no. Not when someone asked for help like this. And didn’t they all know it. She’d arrived back in New Zealand less than a month ago, yet her family had managed to fill her schedule to bursting already. But she’d let them, passively agreeing to it all. So much for becoming more assertive and ring fencing even just some time for her own work.

She knew they saw no change, and wasn’t she acting as if there weren’t—with her ‘yes, of course’ here and ‘sure’ there? Tacitly acknowledging she had nothing better to do. Or, at least, nothing as important as what they were asking.

But she did.

While she loved to help them out, there was something else she loved to do. Her heart beat faster as she thought of it as ‘work’. She badly wanted to prove it could be just that. But to make a go of it, she needed time.

So she really didn’t want to be standing here waiting for anybody—certainly not some guy who couldn’t even seem to organise his own temp. The same boss who had Cara calling her from her hospital bed asking if she could help out. If her help really was needed, then okay, but she wasn’t going to wait here for another twenty minutes. She glanced at her watch again. Ordinarily looking at it brought a tingle of pleasure—fine little vintage piece that it was. She’d found it in a flea market in South London one day. With a new old strap she’d found at another market and a trip to the watch doctor, it worked beautifully. It was definitely not running fast.

The thudding impinged into her brain again, stirring a dormant memory from school days.

No. Surely not?

She stood, walked across the office and right round behind the desk to the window. Looked straight down to the asphalt yard at the back of the warehouse. She inhaled some much-needed cool air into her lungs.

But yes . Basketball.

Lorenzo Hall—she just knew it was him—out there having himself some fun. If he’d been playing with even one other person she might have understood it—that he’d wanted to finish the game before seeing her. But there was no opponent to beat. He was playing alone—while she was waiting for a scheduled meeting with him. Long minutes up in his office—and it was for his benefit.