The Playboy Assignment

The Playboy Assignment
Leigh Michaels

Finding Mr RightKit, Susannah, Alison–Single, successful and not searching for husbands–but love finds them anyway!Persuading a millionaire to part with a fortune seemed like mission impossible. Even if it was in the public interest, it was going to be tough–especially as the man in question turned out to be Marcus Herrington…Susannah's first love.Eight years ago, Marc had stormed out of her life, believing she was having another man's baby. Convincing him otherwise, while sweet-talking him into helping a worthy cause, would be tricky. Even more so when Marc insisted negotiations take place in the bedroom! Suddenly Susannah was struggling to remember that the playboy assignment was business, not pleasure!

Finding Mr Right (#u184bbcb0-4202-5adc-9cbd-e4de7e7796de)Letter to Reader (#uc2eb737e-6e84-577a-82fb-260cb9bd3fbc)Title Page (#u49dc10da-5035-58b8-879a-4ff75e1dc1bb)CHAPTER ONE (#u38381d1f-ba70-5839-b404-e06acb186a2a)CHAPTER TWO (#ue7441397-cceb-5d79-9cac-283816f27f46)CHAPTER THREE (#u6f4dd0f0-8288-569d-be2f-6e17f8c7673c)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)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Finding Mr Right

Welcome to the second book in Leigh Michaels’s wonderful new trilogy—all about dating games and the single woman!

Meet Kit, Susannah and Alison. Three very special women who are friends, business partners—and happily single! Ambitious and successful, they live life to the fullest and have no room on their agenda for husband hunting!

But it seems they don’t have to go looking for Mr Right... because each finds themselves unexpectedly pursued by their very own dream date....

Last month we saw Kit, sensitive and practical, organizing a bachelor auction and winning The Billionaire Date (March #3496).

Now meet Susannah—bubbly and impulsive, she thought she’d never see Marcus again after their affair ended. Until a work project brings them together and Susannah faces The Playboy Assignment (April #3500).

Next month, warmhearted Alison can no longer deny her craving for a baby when she meets a doctor who could help her, and finds herself taking on The Husband Project (May #3504).

You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, but you won’t be able to put these books down as you share in a very special friendship between three wonderful women, and fall in love with the gorgeous men who—eventually—win them over!

Dear Reader,

Over the years, I’ve greatly enjoyed writing books which are connected—sequels, prequels and spin-offs. They usually come about because a secondary character in one book is so interesting that he or she demands a story of their own. But until now, I’ve never tackled an interconnected set of books, knowing from the very beginning that the stories would be so closely tied together that—while each book can stand alone—the three form a very special package. So the FINDING MR RIGHT trilogy has been both a challenge and a joy.

My editor and I had been talking about a trilogy for some time, and I’d been looking for the perfect setting in which my heroines could be business partners as well as friends. Then one of my friends mentioned that her sister was a partner in an all-woman public relations firm in Kansas City, Missouri. Now that was a story possibility made just for me, since I have a journalism background and public relations experience. And though, to this day, I know nothing more about that real-life PR firm than that it employs only women, I want to thank the members of that company for the inspiration they provided for the FINDING MR RIGHT trilogy.

And I thank you, my wonderful readers, for following along through the fifteen years since my first book was published, all the way to this new challenge. I think you’ll enjoy meeting Kit, Susannah and Alison every bit as much as I enjoyed writing about them. I must warn you, though—I cried when I had to give up these three special new friends....

With love,

P.S. I love to hear from readers! You can write to me at:

P.O. Box 935, Ottumwa, Iowa, 52501-0935.

The Playboy Assignment

Leigh Michaels

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CHAPTER ONE

THE scent of freshly made coffee filled the small café. and Susannah paused in the doorway for a second to breathe her fill of the rich aroma. But one of her partners was already waiting in the back booth they reserved for their staff meeting every Monday morning, so Susannah strolled down the length of the long, narrow room and sat across from Alison.

She winced at the hardness of the green vinyl bench. “I’m either going to have to start carrying along a cushion or convince the management to redecorate.”

Alison folded her newspaper and laid it aside. “The cushion would be easier. This place has looked the same as long as I can remember. So unless you’re looking for a challenge—”

“Any reason I shouldn’t be?” Susannah poured herself a cup of coffee from the carafe on the table.

“Only that redecorating isn’t really a matter of public relations.”

Susannah squirmed on the bench. “I don’t know about that. My particular segment of the public would have a lot better relations with the management if—”

“And we’ve already got plenty of regular business to tend to. Which forces me to point out that you’re late.” Alison’s tone was matter-of-fact, without a hint of reproach or irritation.

Susannah reached automatically for the pendant watch which dangled from a heavy gold chain around-her neck. “Five minutes,” she said. “And I’d have been smack on time if there hadn’t been a bake sale going on outside the high school as I walked past.”

Alison showed faint interest. “At this hour on a Monday morning?”

“Incredible, isn’t it? I thought any teenager who was enterprising enough to be selling brownies this early deserved my support.” She pulled a paper bag from her briefcase and waved it under Alison’s nose. “So I bought both fudge and chocolate-chip cookies—but you can’t have any till after breakfast.”

The waitress set an omelette in front of Alison and grinned at Susannah. “What’ll it be this morning, Sue?”

“Just a raspberry Danish. No hurry.”

Alison picked up her fork. “Better make it bacon and eggs instead of more sugar, or you’ll be bouncing off the walls by noon. Not that you don’t most of the time, anyway.”

“I didn’t buy that much fudge.” There was no defensiveness in Susannah’s tone; Alison’s comment was too near truth to allow room for resentment. Of the three partners in Tryad Public Relations, Alison was the practical manager, Kit was the steady get-it-done-whatever-it-takes sort, and Susannah was the visionary, never short of an idea.

The fact that nine out of ten of those ideas went nowhere had ceased to bother her—because the tenth was always a winner.

Of course, that had been true all her life. For every good plan she’d ever come up with, Susannah Miller had managed to find nine bad ones. Or sometimes, she thought dryly, an idea so far beyond bad that it was worth nine all by itself. That whole thing with Marc—

And that, Susannah told herself, was enough of that; Marc and the last of her disasters were eight long years in the past, and there was no point in rehashing the circumstances. The important thing was with two down-toearth partners to keep her anchored to reality, her wilder ideas were squashed before they could get her into trouble.

Thinking of the partnership reminded her of the empty place where the third member of the triangle usually sat. “Tell me again when Kit’s going to be back?”

“She said she was only taking two weeks off.”

Susannah raised her eyebrows. “You sound a little doubtful. Have you ever known Kit not to keep her word?”

“She’s never been on a honeymoon before.”

“That’s true.” Susannah admired the smooth glazed surface of her raspberry Danish. She was just about to take her first bite when a photograph in the newspaper Alison had tossed aside caught her eye and made her forget everything else. “What’s jolly old Cyrus doing in the press?” She put the Danish down and reached for the paper. “Pierce will be furious if he called in the media himself instead of letting the museum squeeze all the mileage we can out of the announcement...” Her voice trailed off as she saw the headline.

Cyrus Albrecht, industrialist, dies suddenly. The announcement was cool and dispassionate. Even the headline was in discreet black type, not the sort which blared from the page. If it hadn’t been for the photograph—outdated by at least twenty years but still unmistakably Cyrus, with the beaklike nose and enormous ears which hadn’t changed an iota with age—she’d have missed the story altogether.

“He can’t die,” Susannah said flatly.

Alison glanced at the page. “Well, I doubt the Tribune published his obituary as a practical joke. Why can’t he die, anyway? At seventy-eight, I’d say the man has a right.”

“Because he hasn’t rewritten his damned will yet, that’s why. At least, he hadn’t the last time I talked to Pierce.”

Alison nodded wisely. “I’d already gathered this is the millionaire art collector you’ve been dangling after for months.”

“I wouldn’t call it dangling, exactly,” Susannah objected.