The Playboy's Office Romance

Chapter One (#ub3a9d5cd-b521-57c8-9f4c-a27f3f579c6e)

Chapter Two (#uc0114ebe-1a35-550e-bc22-b02386303d9c)

Chapter Three (#u7cbe2cc8-55a3-56b6-822b-cd8f1bdd0875)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Prologue

Archer Braddock settled into a chair on the darkened terrace and folded his hands across the crooked handle of his cherrywood cane. Missing his wife of fifty-six years even more today than usual, he looked out at the gardens and the floral arbor under which his oldest grandson, Adam, had exchanged vows with Katie, his bride, only a few hours before. “Ah, Janey,” Archer murmured. “It was a lovely wedding, wasn’t it?”

The only answer was the sound of laughter from inside the house where a lingering assortment of family and friends had gathered after the reception. It had been an unconventional wedding—small, intimate and spontaneous. Not the long-planned and elaborately formal ceremony that might have been expected for a family as old and traditional as the Braddocks of Rhode Island. Certainly nothing like the party of one week before, which had marked both Archer’s seventy-ninth birthday and the brief engagement of Katie Canton to Adam Braddock. It had been a hectic eight days. There had barely been enough time to phone invitations and to secure the services of Pastor Dan from the First Methodist Church in Sea Change before Saturday and the wedding was upon them. But from beginning to end, Katie and Adam had made this the wedding of their dreams…the simple, sincere experience they wanted to mark the start of their life together.

It would be an unconventional marriage, too, that much was already clear. Not half an hour ago, the happy couple had left Braddock Hall heading for someplace neither of them had ever been—Omaha. From there, well, they’d said they would be in touch. Katie was a free spirit and Adam had committed to following her and his heart for a full year, making no plans beyond the immediate future, learning to live in the moment. It was a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn for him, but one Archer was very happy to see his grandson make. If not for Katie, Adam might never have given his soul a chance to breathe.

“I wondered where you’d disappeared to, Archer.” Ilsa Fairchild strolled across the terrace to the table where he sat. “James said you’d most likely slipped up to bed when no one was looking, but I had a feeling you’d be out here.”

Archer still had the desire to be a gentleman when an attractive woman approached, but the stamina to get to his feet had long since deserted him, so he simply welcomed his guest with a smile. “I’m glad you found me,” he said. “I’ve just been having a little one-sided conversation with Jane, asking her if she enjoyed the wedding today.”

“I’m sure she had the best seat Heaven could afford.” Ilsa sank onto a chair and relaxed with a soft sigh. “It was a lovely wedding.”

“Just what I was saying to Janey. I believe she was about to remind me that you deserve the credit for putting this particular match together.”

“I simply introduced the possibility. Adam and Katie took it from there.”

“Nonetheless, Ilsa, you are a matchmaker of uncommon skill and discernment and therefore, must take your share of the credit. I’ll confess that in the beginning I had my doubts, but I’m a true believer now.”

“You were always a true believer, Archer. It’s one of the reasons I agreed to help you find a match for each of your three grandsons.”

“And the other reasons would be…?”

Her smile teased him in the twilight. “Well, it helps that you can afford my fees.”

“You’ve earned that and more already.” Archer tapped his fingertip lightly against the gnarled curl of his hand. “I rather hoped my son might have had something to do with your motivation to make matches for the Braddock men.”

“James is engaged,” Ilsa reminded him in a voice that declared her feelings on the subject weren’t open for discussion.

“For the moment,” Archer agreed, stating by his own tone that he wasn’t ready to give up the idea of a better match for his fifty-four-year-old son. “So tell me who you’ve picked out for Bryce.”

“That isn’t my choice to make, Archer,” she scolded gently. “All I do is pay attention to the opportunities he may have missed and introduce—”

“—the possibility of a match.” Archer finished the sentence for her with a gruff laugh. “I should have known you’re too much of a professional to reveal your matchmaking secrets. But you’re right, Ilsa, I don’t need to know. I trust your powers of perception and hope my middle grandson rises to the occasion. I’d love nothing more than to see him fall in love with the right woman for a change, and take some responsibility for doing something other than entertaining himself and his friends. He’s too much of a Prince Charming for his own good.”

“I believe Bryce may surprise you.”

Archer inhaled the soft, summer air and gathered his energy to get to his feet and return to the house. “I hope so,” he said. “Because I’m about to drop a bombshell into his cavalier lifestyle.”

“A bombshell?”

Archer moved his cane to gain leverage and pushed up out of the chair with difficulty. When he was on his feet and steady, Ilsa slipped her hand under his elbow, offering support and making him feel gentlemanly into the bargain. She was a fine woman, a woman of substance and uncommon grace. If he hadn’t been too old for romance and still deeply in love with his late wife, he’d have gone all out to win her for himself. But he wasn’t a fool. He knew there was some spark of attraction between Ilsa and his son, and he wasn’t yet too old to hope it might still catch flame. After all, Ilsa was a matchmaker of quite ingenious talent.

“A bombshell of atomic proportions,” he confirmed as they walked toward the doors leading into the house. “And I suppose this is as good a time as any to deliver it.”

Chapter One

Bryce Braddock didn’t like weddings, which was strange considering that he enjoyed almost everything about them. The atmosphere was nearly always festive, the flowers fresh, the candlelight romantic. There was usually soft music, close dancing, good food, expensive champagne and an abundance of attractive women caught up in the romance of the occasion, eager for an evening’s worth of flirtation. In short, all the elements of a good party were present and accounted for at weddings—and there was nothing Bryce loved more than a good party.

But there was something in the wedding ceremony, itself—something about the solemnity of the vows, the “I do’s” and the “to love, honor and cherish” parts—that zapped the pleasure right out of the occasion for him. He’d never given it much thought before today, never pondered if maybe it was his father’s inability to keep his wedding vows, despite half a dozen tries, that had soured his attitude toward the institution of marriage. But a few hours ago, as he’d stood beside his older brother, listening to the recital of vows that Adam declared with such confidence, Bryce decided his own aversion to weddings stemmed more from an innate fear that he wouldn’t be able to honor such a commitment. After spending his life in the shelter of his grandparents’ devoted and loving example, he didn’t want to take the chance he might fail at something so important.

He wasn’t like Adam, wasn’t the deliberate, my-way-or-the-highway decision maker his brother was, didn’t have the same self-confidence or the same internal compass that always pointed true north. But then, he had yet to meet a woman like Katie. Two months ago, Adam hadn’t had a clue he’d be exchanging happily ever after promises today on the south lawn of Braddock Hall. Who knew? Maybe a few months down the road, Bryce might just find himself under a flower arbor, saying an unexpected and sweet, “I do.”

Uh-huh. Sure thing. That was about as likely as the Board of Directors asking him to step into Adam’s shoes as CEO of Braddock Industries.

“Believe it or not, it made me very happy to see you display your usual, blatant disregard for tradition today.”

Bryce recognized the voice. He sometimes heard it in his nightmares. “I live to make you happy, Lara,” he said, watching the last little bit of wine swirl in his glass and resisting the urge to turn his head and look at her. It was one of life’s wicked little ironies that she, who never had a good thing to say to or about him, was probably the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen…and he’d seen plenty. “But if you came over here with the idea of buttering me up so I’ll surrender Katie’s bouquet, you’re out of luck. I caught it and I’m keeping it.”

“Buttering, in all its various contexts, will continue to be one of the many things you and I never share, Bryce.”

That was more like the Lara he knew and didn’t love. “Ah, ah, ah. Never say never.”

“Never,” she repeated with irrefutable confidence. “Since it is traditional for single women to try to catch the bouquet and for single men to vie for the garter, normally I would think you a moron to have grabbed the bouquet as you did.”

Definitely the Lara he knew, always quick to zing him with an insult loosely wrapped in a slightly lesser insult. “But today,” he said, beating her to the punch. “…you’re just glad that at least one Braddock is behaving completely in character.”

“Right,” she agreed. “I was beginning to think the whole family has gone completely crazy, but then you shoved poor Thea Berenson out of your way and snagged the bouquet, thus restoring some degree of normalcy to the day.”

Bryce hadn’t shoved anyone. He’d simply reached over their heads. But Lara was always eager to believe the worst of him and he, admittedly, was ever eager to support her cause. “That was Thea?” he asked, tossing back the last swallow of wine. “I thought that was you.” He turned then, and got sucker-punched by the sheer perfection of her Nordic beauty. Lara was tall, her forehead was even with his chin, making her five-eight or five-nine, before she added the height of heels. Her hair was silver-blond and probably long, although he’d never seen it any way but up. Her skin was as fair as a Southern belle’s, not a flaw or freckle to be found. Her eyes were the violet-blue of evening, when the sun is gone, but the night has not quite fallen. And at the moment, those beautiful eyes were staring at him with an expression much closer to disgust than interest.

“If I had been one of the bevy of women vying for the bouquet, and if I’d wanted to catch it, you wouldn’t have it now.”

“Your overwrought self-confidence is one of the things I like best about you, Lara.” He set the wineglass aside and sidled closer to her, lowering his voice. “But you can be truthful with me. I understand that at a certain age the biological clock starts ticking like a time bomb and women get pretty desperate to be married. And even though it’s only a superstition, if there’s any truth to the idea that the one who goes home with the bouquet is the next to be a bride…” Her eyes were turning stormy, but he continued in the spirit of generosity, and because he knew it would annoy her. “So for you, I’m willing to entertain any offer of sexual favors you care to put on the table. The bouquet could be yours if the price is right.”