Jackie Braun - The Game Show Bride

Nice suit. Made to measure, she was sure. Image was everything to corporate hotshots. Still, if she was objective, she had to admit the man was attractive, even more so when he smiled. His lips were drawn into a taut line now, which was a pity since he had such a nice mouth. It was a tad on the wide side, with a small scar just below the bottom lip that only added to his sensuality.

She coughed into her hand and glanced around the room. Where had such an improper thought come from? Samuel Maxwell was her boss. He was, now that she’d made the commitment to this game, her adversary. And if she were to win, which she certainly planned to do, she had to think of him as such. She could not afford to think of him as a man who had once caused her pulse to rev with a simple smile, no matter how sexy she found that little scar.

Jackie Braun began making up stories almost as soon as she learned how to write them down. She never wavered from her goal of becoming a professional writer, but a steady diet of macaroni and cheese during college convinced her of the need for a reliable income. She earned her bachelor’s degree in journalism from Central Michigan University in 1987 and continues to work as an editorial writer for a daily newspaper. Fiction remains her first love. She lives with her husband and son in Michigan.

Working side by side, nine to five—and beyond….

No matter how hard these couples try to keep their relationships strictly professional, romance is definitely on the agenda!

Hired by Mr. Right

by Nicola Marsh

#3834, in Harlequin Romance®

HARLEQUIN ROMANCE®

3804—HER STAND-IN GROOM

SILHOUETTE ROMANCE®

1479—ONE FIANCÉE TO GO, PLEASE

1599—TRUE LOVE, INC.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my “German girl,” Linda Boeke,

exchange student extraordinaire.

I miss hearing you singing around the house.

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

KELLI WALTERS was late for work again—half an hour late this time. She jiggled the fussy toddler on her hip as she slid her time card through the punch at Danbury Department Store’s distribution center. To make matters worse, she was showing up for her shift with two kids in tow, one of whom was irritable and running a slight fever from teething.

“Remember, Katie, you need to keep Chloe with you in the break room,” she reminded her seven-year-old. “You both need to stay out of sight until Mrs. Baker can pick you up.”

That plan went up in smoke when Kelli turned the corner and ran straight into a man’s broad chest. She stumbled back, an apologetic smile on her lips.

She didn’t know the man by name, but she’d seen him the week before walking through the distribution center with one of the assistant managers. The instantaneous tug of attraction she’d felt then had caught her off guard. She’d chided herself for it, even as she’d returned the smile he’d sent her way.

And here he was again. Only this time he wasn’t smiling.

“Sorry,” she said.

He acknowledged her apology with a curt nod.

“What are those children doing back here?”

At the man’s harsh tone, Katie slid behind her mother and Chloe sent up a wail of distress.

Kelli jiggled the baby and kissed her rosy, heated cheek. “It’s okay, pumpkin. Don’t cry.” She transferred her gaze to the man. “Who exactly are you?”

“Sam Maxwell.”

The name seemed familiar, although she couldn’t quite place it.

“Ah, the new guy,” she said at last, reasonably sure he was the distribution center’s new manager, a position for which she had applied and never received even the courtesy of an interview.

Rumor had it that this guy was some shirttail relation to the personnel director, although Kelli didn’t think he looked much like the short and bald Mr. Elliott. No, he was tall, at least six-two, with a full head of black hair and blue eyes that glared out from beneath a slash of dark brow.

He must be pretty full of himself, she decided, taking note of the nicely tailored suit he wore. Khaki pants and a button-down shirt would have been acceptable management attire in the warehouse. The suit was overkill and now it bore the unmistakable imprint of a child’s runny nose just above the impeccably folded silk handkerchief that peeked from the breast pocket.

Serves him right, she thought none too charitably.

“New guy.” He scowled. And then said dryly, “Yes, I guess I am the new guy.”

Manager or no manager, handsome or not, he didn’t need to upset her children.

“Well, Mr. Maxwell, did you really need to shout?” She tilted her head toward Chloe, who was still whimpering.

Dark eyebrows shot up over icy blue eyes. Clearly, he wasn’t used to being reprimanded, especially from someone who obviously ranked low in the company’s pecking order. Still, he lowered his voice when he said, “I asked a question. What are those children doing here?”

So, he was going to be one of those managers—the overbearing, inflexible kind who believed in following rules to the exclusion of all else. Employees weren’t people with families and problems to this type of boss. No. They were automatons that needed to get the job done without asking questions or voicing complaints.

Unbidden and utterly inappropriate came the thought that it was a pity his good looks didn’t extend to his personality. She brushed it aside, denying the attraction she had felt from that first glance across the room a week earlier. Her girls came first. They always came first.

“They’re my kids. My sitter had a doctor’s appointment this morning. She’ll be here soon to pick them up.”

“Soon? This is a business, not a day care.”

She sighed in exasperation. As if that had escaped her notice. Kelli didn’t know why she had expected him to understand or to care that even on good days being a single mother could be a trial. On days like this one, it was all she could do not to sit down and cry alongside her cranky toddler.

Chloe had kept her up most of the night. She was getting molars and wanted to ensure her misery had company. Of course, it hadn’t helped that Chicago was in the grip of a major heat wave, making Kelli’s fourth-floor apartment stiflingly hot. Two electric fans merely moved hot air around the small rooms, doing nothing to cool them. The coup de grâce had come that morning when the sitter had called. Kelli was ready to sell her soul for one hour of peaceful slumber in an air-conditioned room. Instead, she had eight hours of drudgery to look forward to and then an hour at home before heading to her night class. She’d be lucky to fall into bed before midnight and only then if she ignored the sink full of dirty dishes and mountain of laundry growing out of her closet.

“I’m aware that this isn’t a day care,” she replied, trying to keep her tone civil. “But I couldn’t get anyone else. My backup sitter is out of town for a few days.”

“Your personal problems are just that, personal. But they could become Danbury’s problems if one of your children were to get hurt.” He motioned with one hand toward the stacked pallets of inventory. “This is no place for children to be roaming around free.”