The Playboy's Office Romance

“You’ve always underestimated me, Sweetcheeks.”

“Don’t ever call me that again!”

“Aunt Lara?”

She whirled to see Calvin standing hesitantly in the hallway, shifting his slight weight uneasily from foot to foot. “Calvin,” she said, apology in her voice, regret that he’d heard her speaking so sharply to Bryce, to anyone.

“Are you mad?” he asked.

Lara was conscious of the tremor in his voice, the insecurity in the way his arms were tucked across his chest. He’d heard too many mad voices in his short life already. “No, Sweetie,” she said soothing him with a smile. “We were just talking about, uh, hurt feelings.”

Calvin considered the matter, then his smile beamed out, including them both. “If a feeling’s hurt, you should kiss it and make it all better.”

“Now there’s a good idea,” Bryce agreed, his smile returning as if the tension of a moment ago had never been. “In my experience, kissing makes everything better.”

Calvin nodded. “Kiss him, Aunt Lara, and then you and him come and watch me spin.”

Bryce’s eyes were alight with mischief when her gaze nailed him.

“Don’t even think about it,” she warned beneath a falsely bright smile.

His answering smile was almost irresistible. “I was only thinking,” he said as if it were true, “that kids say the darndest things.”

Chapter Three

“And why do I need this?” Bryce leaned against his desk, arms crossed, watching as Peter finished setting up the indoor practice putting green.

“Think of it as a tool,” Peter said, eyeing the slope with a narrowed gaze. “To aid you in making important decisions.”

“Sort of like flipping a coin? Sink the ball, yes. Miss the putt, no?”

“More like you focus on improving your golf game and allow your subconscious to deal with the decisions.”

“Sounds a little risky considering I don’t play golf.”

“You’ll have to start now that you’re a big mucky-muck.” Peter made a slight adjustment, then pushed to his feet and reached for the putter. “All chief execs play golf and they all have a nifty indoor green like this one in their office.”

“Adam didn’t.”

“Adam’s a workaholic.”

Bryce smiled easily. “Are you saying I’m not?”

Peter lined up the first putt. “You work harder at enjoying life than anyone I know, which is why I’ve brought you this little gift. It’s my way of saying congratulations and don’t let that big desk and leather chair go to your head.” He tapped the golf ball and sent it rolling unerringly down the strip of artificial turf. Peter was a natural athlete although he seldom bothered to compete. Bryce suspected his younger sibling had always tamped down his competitive nature in order to avoid any possibility of a confrontation with either of his big brothers. It couldn’t have been easy coming to the Hall as an overgrown weed of a boy and finding a whole new family with an intimidating set of expectations. Nine was hardly the best age for a transition from one life to another; from virtual obscurity to public notoriety; from a series of ramshackle homes to an ancestral mansion. But like both Adam and Bryce, Peter hadn’t been given a choice. He was a Braddock, even if the family hadn’t known he existed before the day James brought him home. The Braddock brothers were all orphans in one way or another; motherless boys all three. Bryce considered it a tribute to their grandparents—especially their Grandmother Jane—that they’d all grown up to be self-confident, caring and responsible men. Different as noon from midnight, but still solid and secure in who they were as individuals, and in their role as members of an old and prestigious family.

“It’s a great gift, Pete,” he said, indicating the indoor green with a nod. “When I’ve been CEO long enough to actually get to make a decision, I’m sure it will come in handy.”

Peter handed over the putter for Bryce to try. “Decision-making comes sometime after the second week, I believe, which leaves you at least the rest of this afternoon and all next week to goof off.”

“I’m trying to impress people with my brilliant business style. Goofing off doesn’t seem the best way to go about it.”

“Trust me, you’ve already impressed them by showing up every day for five days in a row. Even I’m impressed. To be honest, I didn’t think you’d last through the first eight hours.”

Bryce was getting just a bit tired of people being surprised he had any work ethic at all. There had been little digs all week from friends and family alike. Sly remarks about stock prices taking a nosedive—which they hadn’t. Tongue-in-cheek remarks about long lunch hours and even longer afternoon naps. Remarks which were meant to be teasing—but weren’t. Little comments from the staff that told him the odds were running long against him. Drawing the ball onto the rubber mat with the putter, he debated tackling Peter on the subject. “You know,” he said, lining up the putt. “Just because I’ve never taken an active interest in running this company doesn’t mean I’ve never taken any interest in it at all. Until now, there was just no reason or opportunity to show what I do know.” Bryce tapped the ball toward the hole…and missed.

“Adam’s a tough act for anybody to follow and I certainly don’t envy you the task,” Peter said. “What I want is for you to do this your way and not his.”

Before he could follow through and assure his brother that he had every intention of playing this corporate game by his own rules, there was a tap at the door and Lara walked in. She’d been doing that all week, hadn’t hesitated, hadn’t waited for an invitation, had simply tapped on the door and entered. As if he couldn’t possibly be busy. As if it were inconceivable he might be on the phone or in a meeting. As if she couldn’t imagine any reason she should wait. He knew she did it partly to annoy him and partly as a subtle reminder that she believed she had more right to this office than he did. She would never have just walked in on Adam.

But while she hadn’t exactly treated Bryce with all due respect this first week, she hadn’t been overtly hostile, either and he planned to choose his battles with her very carefully. He’d make his point when he was ready and not a moment before, because contrary to her long-held prejudice, he wasn’t as dumb as she believed him to be. He knew her knowledge of the company and her passion for it couldn’t be easily replaced and he didn’t want to lose her. Not yet, anyway. But that hadn’t stopped him from wishing many times over the course of the past four and a half days that he’d just let her resign on Monday and saved himself a good deal of grief.

“Hello, Peter,” she said pleasantly, flashing a smile so incredibly warm it all but upped the temperature of the room by several degrees. But then her glance swung to Bryce, encompassing both him and the golf game in a coolly passive-aggressive disapproval. “I have some PBRs for you to approve and the contract amendment for the Boston Fidelity project.” She handed him a stack of papers the size of a small bomb, then her smile warmed again and swung back to Peter. “Great job on the Atlanta project,” she said. “I spoke with Ed Barnes yesterday and he couldn’t stop talking about how much he liked your work. A real rave review, Peter. You should be very proud.”

“Thanks.” Peter smiled in response. “I am rather proud of that whole project…if only because Adam really liked it.”

“And we’re all aware what a compliment that is,” she said with the teasing tone of an insider.

And Bryce felt suddenly very much like an outsider. “I should probably take a look at that file,” he said.

“Why?” Lara’s incredulous tone indicated her surprise that he even expressed an interest. “The deal’s done and the plans are already with the construction manager.”

“I’d like to be brought up to speed on all our recent projects. I’m sure you can arrange that for me.” Bryce tried for an authoritative tone, the CEO simply making a request, telling Lara in so many words he didn’t want to be shut out of the loop. The Atlanta project was in the final stages of approval, with actual construction scheduled to begin next month. As the architect, Peter had worked very hard on the concept. As the CEO, Adam had worked very hard on guiding the project to a green-light status. As senior vice president, Lara would be the liaison between Braddock Construction and the customer. As the newly appointed chief executive, Bryce had nothing to do with any of it. Unless, of course, something went wrong, in which case, he figured the blame would somehow come to rest at his door. Which was reason enough to know the history on any project. He handed the putter over to his brother. “Take another turn while I go over these reports.”

“I’ve checked the figures,” Lara told him. “All you need to do is initial beside Adam’s name.”

Peter grinned. “It may take a couple of years to get your name on the stationery.”

“It takes longer than a week.” Lara glanced at Bryce, her luscious lips curved upward in a smile, her eyes letting him know she doubted he’d be around long enough to have his name on the letterhead.

“I’ll just read these reports anyway,” Bryce said.

Lara was too professional to shrug, so she turned to Peter with another warm smile. “Any word from Adam and Katie?”

Peter shook his head. “Not even a postcard.”

“They are on their honeymoon, you know.” Bryce carried the stack of reports to his desk and put them on top of yet another stack. He was beginning to think the only thing Braddock Industries built, was a mountain of paperwork.

“Honeymoon or not, it isn’t like Adam not to check in.” Lara took the putter from Peter.

“I think we’re all seeing a new, wholly unexpected side of Adam.” Peter winked at Bryce in an exchange of fraternal understanding. “Our grandmother always told us, the love of a good woman would make us better men, but I thought she was being overly optimistic.”

“I always thought she was teasing,” Bryce said. “It’s hard to believe she thought we could get any better.”

“There’s always room for improvement, and some people have more room than others.” Lara bent to position the golf ball on the mat, her body curving like a slender willow, smooth and graceful.

Bryce admired the view, deciding there was at least one thing in this office which needed no improvement whatsoever. “Are you a golfer, Lara?”

“No,” she replied absently, lining up the putt and sinking it like a pro. “Never had the time to learn.” With a smile, she handed the putter back to Peter and dusted her hands, adding yet another accomplishment to her long list of efficiencies. No muss. No fuss. No bother.