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Crazy About Her Impossible Boss
Ally Blake
A man in a million… There’s only one problem: he’s her boss! Lucinda Starling has lost faith happy-ever-afters. She protects the important things: her young son and her job working for entrepreneur Angus Wolfe. Her boss must never know she’s crazy about him! Until one evening when he looks at her like she’s the only woman in the world…
A man in a million…
There’s only one problem: he’s her boss!
Single mom Lucinda Starling has lost faith in love or happy-ever-afters. She must protect the important things: her young son and her job working for entrepreneur Angus Wolfe! Her commitmentphobe boss must never know she’s crazy about him! Until one evening at a conference he looks at her like she’s the only woman in the world… Dare she risk all and be tempted by Angus?
Australian author ALLY BLAKE loves reading and strong coffee, porch swings and dappled sunshine, beautiful notebooks and soft, dark pencils. Her inquisitive, rambunctious, spectacular children are her exquisite delight. And she adores writing love stories so much she’d write them even if nobody read them. No wonder, then, having sold over four million copies of her romance novels worldwide, Ally is living her bliss. Find out more about Ally’s books at allyblake.com (http://www.allyblake.com).
Also by Ally Blake (#u956244a0-1b45-5a83-acdb-6614758dfe05)
Falling for the Rebel Heir
Hired: The Boss’s Bride
Dating the Rebel Tycoon
Millionaire Dad’s SOS
Hired by the Mysterious Millionaire
A Week with the Best Man
The Royals of Vallemont miniseries
Rescuing the Royal Runaway Bride
Amber and the Rogue Prince
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Crazy About Her Impossible Boss
Ally Blake
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-0-008-90315-2
CRAZY ABOUT HER IMPOSSIBLE BOSS
© 2019 Ally Blake
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Note to Readers (#u956244a0-1b45-5a83-acdb-6614758dfe05)
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Text to speech
To Jamie, Merle and Ryan and the gorgeous staff
at my ‘office’, aka Café Bliss.
They know me by name, point out excitedly when my
favourite booth is free, and let me rent a table any time
for the price of a latte and a piece of cake.
True patrons of the arts!
Contents
Cover (#u9d088718-07eb-509b-9cc1-480bf0e973f3)
Back Cover Text (#u00b09d30-ccae-5978-a434-4527b83aa694)
About the Author (#uf5ca4ebe-4aeb-5775-a126-e83219f2da7c)
Booklist (#u9e25bbc7-ae50-5995-9c0e-26c85f7f7c6a)
Title Page (#u809594ed-b509-51a1-a982-19d009e74366)
Copyright (#ube4cb04f-8115-56e3-8dd4-71a8a9ac951b)
Note to Readers
Dedication (#ub190f143-a032-55ed-ac6b-6c434eb49ea5)
CHAPTER ONE (#ua0388bea-27bf-5ca3-bbe6-82aec2f6f31b)
CHAPTER TWO (#u4d0cb001-751d-5146-b2b1-d0a6202fa382)
CHAPTER THREE (#u2cbdf00d-eace-5956-bcb0-83dd47e0d52c)
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)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u956244a0-1b45-5a83-acdb-6614758dfe05)
LUCINDA. PICK UP. Lucinda. Pickup. Lucinda. Pickup.
Lucinda’s fingers hovered over the keyboard keys right as the voice stopped, their ends tingling from typing ninety-plus words a minute.
She cocked an ear but couldn’t tell where the voice had come from.
From her desk—aka The Guard Tower Blocking All From Entrance Into Her Boss’s Sacred Space—she could see all the way from his corner office, down the hall past Reception to the lifts at the end, and there was no one nearby.
She went back to typing and…
Lucinda. Pick up. Lucinda. Pick up. Lucinda. Pick up.
With a huff, she lifted her fingers from the keys and zeroed in on the sound.
It was coming from her phone, which was lit up beseechingly by her elbow. Someone had added a new ringtone. The picture smiling back at her gave her a fair idea who was behind the deep, gravelly voice.
Biting her lips to suppress a scowl—or possibly a smile—Lucinda pressed the little red “end call” dot on the screen, flicking the call to voicemail. She was a busy woman. The man could wait.
Straightening her shoulders, Lucinda found her spot on the screen once more, pressed a quick finger to her earbud and picked up the trail of the conversation in her ear as Dahlia—Executive Assistant to the Head of Advertising at the Melbourne Ballet Company—continued her story about the man who’d stood her up for drinks the night before.
As Lucinda listened, mmm-ing in all the right places, she continued to type a bullet-point list of the day’s top business-related headlines—trending brands, celebrity gaffes and wins, as well as a few choice titbits she thought might be relevant to her boss—a ritual she’d begun when she’d first landed a job at the Big Picture Group six-and-a-half years earlier.
Then her mobile started ringing again, the tone deep, resonant and insistent. Male. Lucinda. Pick up. Lucinda. Pick up. Lucinda. Pick up.
Lucinda did not pick up. She opened a drawer, tossed the phone inside, covered it in a pile of miscellaneous paper and shut the drawer once more.
Then into her mouthpiece she said, “Dahlia, you are a rare gem. Find a man who sees your worth. One who looks you in the eye. Who listens when you speak. Who shows up when he says he will. Find a grown-up. Do not waste another moment settling for anything less. You’ll thank me.”
Dahlia thanked her profusely and rang off. But not before promising to send Lucinda a dozen A-circle tickets to opening night of the Melbourne Ballet’s next show. Lucinda didn’t bite back that smile. She already had a couple of clients lined up who’d love her for ever for those tickets.
Though she did wonder—if only briefly—whether she was, in fact, the best possible person Dahlia, or anyone, could turn to for dating advice. At least she hadn’t given Dahlia any advice she wouldn’t follow herself.
“Probably why you’ve been single for so long,” she muttered, before getting back to work.
Until her phone started up again. Lucinda. Pick up. Lucinda. Pick up. Lucinda. Pick up. Only muffled. By paper. And a closed drawer.
Lucinda slowly typed the last bullet point, saved the file and sent it flying through the ether to her boss’s computer, before turning on her chair to face the man himself.
Angus Wolfe, one of the top branding specialists in town, if not the country, sat on the other side of a wall of diffused, smoky glass that separated him from the rest of the world.
He leant back in his big leather chair, feet up on the decadently deep windowsill, face in profile as he looked out over the stunning view of the Melbourne skyline. The dying sun sparkled and glinted off the staggering shards of chrome and glass beyond but Lucinda only had eyes for the mobile phone pressed to his ear.
When the drawer began to vibrate a moment before her phone rang, she whipped it open, grabbed her phone and again pressed the little red “end call” dot. She then shoved back her chair, stalked to the discreet glass door that was hers and hers alone, opened it with a satisfying swish and strode across the acre of soft grey carpet to her boss’s desk.
There was no way he wasn’t fully aware she stood behind him. The man’s ability to read a room was legendary. He noticed changes in temperature, pulse, breathing and tone of voice the way other people noticed being kicked in the shin.
Yet still she took a selfish moment to drink him in before officially making herself known.
For Angus Wolfe’s profile was a study in staggering male beauty.
The man was all chiselled angles. Sharp jaw, close-shaven. Hair darkly curling and a mite over-long. The reading glasses he refused to admit he needed to wear did nothing to soften the impact of the most formidable pair of dark-hazel eyes that had ever been seen.
Even the tendons in his neck were a sight to behold.
Then he shifted. Slowly. Like a big cat stretching in the sun. The lines of his charcoal suit moved with him, cut as they were to make the most of his…everything. Each one cost more than she’d spent on her car. She knew. She paid his bills.
Then she spotted his socks. Peeking out from the top of his custom-made dress shoes was the merest hint of a wolf motif. She’d given him those socks for Christmas.
Her heart gave a little flutter, releasing a gossamer thread of lust that wafted from throat to belly to places less mentionable.
She squished the thing. Fast.
Angus Wolfe might be able to read a room, but if anyone dared claim that Lucinda Starling—his long-time executive assistant, his right-hand woman, his not-so-secret weapon—was a teeny, tiny little bit in love with him, he’d have laughed till he split a kidney.
Either she kept her cards closer to her chest than she realised or he had a blind spot when it came to her. The fact that he had no clue was a gift. And she planned to keep it that way.
