Bachelor Boss

Reining in his wandering thoughts, Philip pulled out another smile. “Your résumé says you take shorthand.”

“Yes, I do,” she affirmed, straightening slightly in her chair.

“Good, good. It’s hard to find a secretary who knows shorthand these days. I confess I’m a holdout who hates those little tapes and prefers to dictate the old-fashioned way.”

Her answer was a polite smile.

He folded his hands on his desktop and put on his “Let’s get comfortable, shall we?” expression. “There seems to be a little misunderstanding here, but I think we can work this out. You see, my brother is in Europe right now and won’t be back to interview for his position for several weeks, I’m sure.”

He paused as a thought suddenly occurred to him. Why had the headhunters sent someone who looked like this to interview in the first place? He’d spoken personally with the head of the agency, making it clear exactly what he wanted in prospective candidates for the position. He’d offered a salary that was sure to bring in applicants with impeccable references and long years of experience. That usually meant someone older than thirty, and Philip had more like forty-five or fifty in mind.

So what was a woman like Ms. Wier doing here? The agency valued his business too much to ever make a mistake like that.

“Ms. Wier, how did you hear about our opening?”

Philip had watched too many people across a negotiating table to miss the tiny flicker in her eyes. Possible coup or not, if she lied to him—and he’d know—she was out on her cute little rear.

“To be honest, I heard through a friend-of-a-friend kind of thing. This is a job I’m highly qualified for, and I made the decision to take advantage of the valuable information.”

He liked a person with initiative—to a certain point. He admired gumption in a competitor and in an employee, as long as they didn’t push too far. He appreciated that she’d taken an opportunity, especially in this instance where it worked to his advantage, but he also made a note to watch her and make sure her proactive approach didn’t end up biting him on the behind.

Although she had an excellent poker face, he could feel her tension. He waited just long enough to make his unspoken point before nodding.

“As a businessman, I can respect that.” He reread her file and let his ambiguous response hang. “So tell me why you’re leaving Price Manufacturing.”

Before the words even came out of her mouth, he knew she was about to give him the prepared story. He hadn’t turned over his family’s measly ten million this many times without honing a certain amount of psychic skill.

“Mrs. Price wants to come back to work. She says she’s bored, and after all, she ran the company with Mr. Price for years. They’re a good team. Anyway, they told me to take as much time as I needed to find a good job, but once I was settled, Mrs. Price would take the office back over. They pride themselves on being a family-run operation, you know.”

Yes, he knew. He knew Eva and Martin Price socially, and he knew their excellent reputation.

“Then I’m sure they will give you a good reference.”

He let her sit a moment longer, waiting until she uncrossed her legs and recrossed them before continuing. “As I said, my brother won’t be back for quite some time, but as it happens, my own secretary is out, and I need a temporary to stand in for her. Could I interest you in working for me for a few weeks? We’ll call it a dry run, if you will. When Mrs. Montague returns, you may still wish to apply for the opening, but if that doesn’t work out, I feel sure we can find a place for someone of your talent at Ambercroft, Inc.”

Philip named a salary even higher than he’d offered the headhunters, making the money alone worth her while to take the temporary position. Sweetening the deal with a promise of permanent employment was mere icing. This way, everybody won. Even Gene, although Philip had no intention of his brother ever knowing about this little venture.

His watch gave a small beep and he glanced at his wrist. Only five o’clock? Good, he could still get some work done.

Ms. Wier shifted in her seat, recapturing his attention. He’d never hired an employee based on their physical appearance, but in her case, he just might be tempted to make an exception. He had always been fond of brunettes, and her green eyes were bright and inviting. She had the presence and grace that said she was completely unaware of the power of her classic features. She had a timeless beauty that reminded him of some of the stunning women who’d starred in the old movies he favored. Elizabeth Taylor in her prime, Katherine Hepburn, Ingrid Bergman.

To be practical, however, by hiring Madalyn he’d have much more than someone pleasing to look at. He’d have a qualified, motivated assistant.

“Well, Ms. Wier? What do you think?”

“I’m very interested, of course. I’d need to know if medical benefits are available during this... dry run...as you call it, and if vacation will begin to accrue.”

He hid a smile. No overeager cream puff here. He was beginning to like her more and more. He despised ingratiating fools and pushovers.

“Medical, yes, we’ll get you on the corporate policy right away. Vacation and sick time will begin once you’re a permanent employee.”

She nodded, as if expecting his response. “Then I’ll say yes, Mr. Ambercroft.”

Philip wasn’t smug, but Gene wasn’t the only Ambercroft who could be charming. “Please, if we’re going to work together you must call me Philip. If I can call you Madalyn...?”

“Of—of course.”

“Great.” He shifted the folders on his desk and tossed a notepad and pen across to her. “Let’s get started.”

Chapter Two

Madalyn shook a cramp out of her wrist. Now she knew why they called Philip Ambercroft a tyrant!

Thank God her mother was visiting from Louisiana. She was lucky enough to have a private sitter who never worried about an exact pick-up time, and she had a cousin in town who was always delighted to get Erin in an emergency, but she hated to ask unless it was absolutely necessary. At least her guilt was somewhat mitigated by knowing Erin was with her grandmother—someone who worshiped the ground Erin toddled on.

She reminded herself not to complain. Even if it was a bit surprising to be put to work the same day as an interview—and at five o’clock in the evening at that—at least Philip was interested in her. And if she made a good impression, her future employment might just be sealed. He was by no means bound by what he’d said earlier, so she wanted to be dam sure to earn that permanent position.

She knew some called him ruthless, castigating him as a takeover tycoon, but she had read enough about him to know that while he wasn’t totally altruistic, he did rebuild the floundering companies he bought and turned them into cash cows. She admired Philip’s nononsense approach to business and his refusal to accept less than the best from his employees. She had scraped and pulled herself inch by inch out of the suffocating poverty of her hometown, and had gotten where she was by giving one hundred and ten percent at every job she’d ever had. Philip seemed like a boss who could appreciate that kind of work ethic.

As long as he didn’t take advantage too often. She admitted she was a bit sensitive in this area, but she was working on not letting a past mistake color her whole future. Not every handsome boss was a lying snake in the grass.

Of course, now that she’d taken dictation steadily for over an hour, which still had to be typed up, a part of Madalyn wanted to tell him to take his job and...well, do something anatomically impossible with it. The thought was fleeting, and she nearly gave her desk a superstitious rap. She didn’t want to jinx anything, even with an errant though.

She didn’t mind giving one hundred and ten percent, but today was her birthday. Her mother was waiting to go out for Chinese food, and then they were going to take turns arguing over who got to hold Erin while they watched the movie Madalyn had rented the night before. It probably wasn’t most people’s idea of a big birthday bash, but it suited her just fine.

Madalyn glanced at the clock. It was almost seven and she wasn’t even close to being finished. Picking up the telephone, she sighed and dialed her home number. She brushed a wayward strand of not-quite brown, not-quite-red hair out of the way as she pressed the receiver to her ear.

Her mother’s Cajun accent jarred her out of her wandering thoughts.

“Et?”

“Hi, Mom, it’s me again. Looks like we have to cancel my birthday plans. I’m not even close to getting out of here.”

“You’re still working? My goodness!”

“I’ll tell you all about it when I get there, but that may not be for a while. Don’t let me forget to call Mr. Price at home and let him know what happened.”

“I’ll write you a note. I’m sorry about tonight, shay. But my angel and I are having a good time.”

“Oh, yeah? And how many cookies has she conned you out of?”

“Don’ you talk about my angel that way!”

“Mother...”

“Just three, but they were just a bit and a piece—”

“Mother, don’t you dare give her another one. Has she eaten any dinner at all?”