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Marrying the Boss
Megan Kelly
All his life Mark Collins has been fighting for a place to belong.Now just when he thinks the hard-earned family business is within reach, his adoptive grandfather's will has named a challenger. Leanne Fairbanks belongs in Collins Company as much as Mark does–and she's just as determined to become its next CEO. Until her handsome rival starts arousing feelings that have nothing to do with business.With a lot more than who's going to be boss at issue, Leanne has to decide whether winning the battle will lose her the war–especially when it's her heart at stake….
“If you’d just let me know where you’ll be, I could try to avoid you.”
“I thought you’d been doing that already.”
Leanne stopped and faced Mark. Had his voice held a tinge of disappointment? “No, I haven’t. I’ve just been trying to learn everything fast.”
She mentally slapped herself. Don’t admit your vulnerabilities. It gave him an edge, and being so far behind, she couldn’t afford to give him any further advantage.
“I’d be happy to help you.”
She spun to face him, astounded.
After a moment Mark chuckled. “Well, maybe not happy.”
“And maybe not really helpful.” She glanced at him. “You don’t consider me much of a threat, do you?”
Dear Reader,
Families are funny, you know? What passed for normal in my family of five kids seemed strange to my friend who had only one sibling—and a brother at that. Not to mention what my friend who’s an only child thought of our troop! As the youngest, I’ve always been intrigued by family dynamics, which is why I’m so pleased to have my first book published by Harlequin American Romance, the specialists in stories of home and family. I’ve dreamed of writing for Harlequin for many years, so this novel is very special to me. My hero and heroine didn’t make it easy, however!
The main characters of Marrying the Boss, Mark and Leanne, have very interesting family backgrounds. I couldn’t wait until they showed me how they’d work through their issues and still fall in love. It was a fun ride that I hope you’ll enjoy.
I’d love to hear what you think. Please contact me through my Web site, MeganKellyBooks.com.
Sincerely,
Megan Kelly
Marrying the Boss
Megan Kelly
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Fate led Megan Kelly to write romances—fate and her grandmother, that is. While riding a crosstown bus, teenage Megan and her grandma happened on a Harlequin Romance book. The older woman scanned the first page to determine the book’s contents and declared it to be about lions, then she gave it to Megan to pass the time on the next day’s journey home, five hours away. (The first page did mention lions, but they were statues at the gates of the hero’s family estate.) Megan became an avid reader and discovered her dream job—writing those exciting and moving stories she loved. She lives in the Midwest with her husband and two children and is well-known at her local bookstore and library.
For Tom, my real-life Hero—
Thanks for your support on this journey;
and, of course,
For Mom, who taught me by example
about strong women.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Chapter One
Of course the son of a bitch had to be buried in the rain. Leanne Fairbanks glowered at the mausoleum, then yanked her heel out of the mud and advanced toward it.
“Are they all gone, do you think?”
At her mother’s question, Leanne surveyed Fields Grove Cemetery—the premiere spot for the dead elite of Chicago. Lionel Collins lay in the family crypt, a large domed building of gray granite, sporting Greek columns and two stone lions for guards. Leanne grimaced at the lions. The egomaniac.
No birds sang. Wet black trees supported branches thinly covered with April buds. Sprinkles of rain made hardly a patter. Dead silence, she thought, then quelled her ill-timed humor. The emptiness of the surroundings unnerved her. “I don’t see anyone.”
They hadn’t attended the private ceremony held in the funeral chapel. Her mom had decided against seeing Gloria, Lionel’s daughter-in-law, and her son, Mark, much to Leanne’s relief. She’d have gone for support if her mom had felt the need, but personally, Leanne had no use for either of the Collinses. Much as they had no use for her.
They arrived at the mausoleum door, which Leanne was thankful hadn’t been locked yet. Two workers turned at their entrance, then ducked out into the drizzle. Their portable floor lamps lit most of the fifteen by fifteen-foot-interior like high noon, illuminating the gaping hole in the wall. Shadows lingered in the corners. Leanne snugged her raincoat tighter.
Her mom closed the umbrella and smoothed her dark-blond hair back into its chignon. At fifty-four, she had only a few lines, although her green eyes had lost their sparkle during the past week.
Giving her mom a moment of privacy, Leanne inspected the crypt. Lionel would be interred above Helen, his wife of forty-seven years. Warren, their son—my half-brother—lay at rest across from them. She probed the thought like a sore tooth but experienced no pain. He’d been a stranger, no more than a name to her. Below him was a marker with Gloria’s name and birth year chiseled on it.
Leanne frowned. There wasn’t a place for Mark.
She started to mention this to her mom, but stopped at the sight of the grief on her face. Her mother’s fingertips hovered just above the mahogany casket, tears slipping down her cheeks.
Leanne placed her arm around her mother’s shoulders, offering support but no words. She had nothing to say about this man. Other than generous monthly checks, he’d ignored her existence. Conscience money, she thought, then corrected herself. It couldn’t have been. Lionel Collins hadn’t had a conscience.
Her mother sniffed and dabbed at her tears with a tissue. Leanne hugged her tighter.
“He was a good man. He was,” her mom emphasized, as though Leanne had argued the point. She wouldn’t, not today. If she hadn’t changed her mother’s mind in the past, debating “the Lion’s” questionable merits wouldn’t help anything now.
“Yes, he was,” a male voice said behind them.
They spun. A tall man filled the doorway, his silky dark hair absorbing the illumination from the workmen’s lights. As he stepped forward, she noticed his deep brown eyes and had to repress a shiver. Chilly air, she told herself, wanting to believe it. She recognized him from the financial section of the newspaper.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought everyone had headed to the hotel already. My mother lost an earring and is afraid it dropped—” he eyed the casket “—somewhere in here.” He leaned forward, hand extended. “I’m Mark Collins.”
Leanne gaped when her mother reached to take his hand between both of hers and held on.
“Jenny Fairbanks,” she said in her quiet, dignified way. “This is my daughter, Leanne. We’re so sorry for your loss.”
He placed his other hand over her mother’s. He hadn’t reacted at all to the introduction. Smooth, Leanne thought.
Mark gestured to the man behind him. “This is Todd Benton. He’s come to help me—” again he glanced at the casket “—in my search.”
“Leanne Fairbanks?” Todd asked. He stepped forward, his thin eyebrows creeping up on his forehead toward where his hairline should have been. “As well as being a family friend, I’m also the late Mr. Collins’s lawyer. I have information of interest to you.”
Leanne frowned. “What might that be, Mr. Benton?”
“Your inheritance, of course. I’d like to speak to you in private. Perhaps we could set up a time for you to come to my office.”
“What inheritance?” Leanne and Mark said at the same time.
She looked at him, and he glared back. She tried to digest the news while he pierced her with his gaze. His dark eyes narrowed before he turned to the lawyer.
“I seem to be a step behind, Benton. Why is Miss Fairbanks named in my grandfather’s will?”
Leanne’s mouth dropped open. The nerve of the man. She hadn’t expected to inherit anything—nor did she want anything from a man who’d abandoned her mother when she became pregnant. But for Mark to question Lionel’s mentioning her was appalling.
“Because she’s Lionel’s daughter, of course.”
“She’s what?”
He hadn’t known? Leanne would have accused him of deception if he hadn’t gone pale beneath his tan. Emotions crossed his face, but on such short acquaintance, she couldn’t interpret them. He frowned in what could have been confusion. His eyes widened, possibly with disbelief, and was that pain in the tightness around his mouth?
What had the Collins family been told? All these years she thought they’d known about her. If they hadn’t, she could forgive their silence. She’d have only Lionel to blame. Perhaps they’d want to embrace her as a member of the family now that they knew.
“His daughter,” Benton repeated. “You didn’t…? Come on, Mark, you must have known.”
Mark shook his head. Had he lost his power of speech? Leanne felt that way herself.
“Gloria and Warren never told you?” Benton asked.
“Mother knows?” Mark whispered, never breaking eye contact with Leanne.
“Of course she knows. Your entire family knew of Lionel’s scandal.”
A chill washed over Leanne. So much for being embraced.
Benton drew himself upright. “This is obviously not the place for this discussion. Miss Fairbanks, if I may have your current address, I’ll contact you with the details of your inheritance.”
Leanne broke away from the hold Mark’s gaze had on her. She hesitated to leave her mother with Mark, especially after his receiving such news.
After a few hesitant steps, she withdrew a notepad and pen from her purse and jotted down the information. She tore off the paper and handed it to the lawyer. “I wrote my home and work numbers, as well.”
“Thank you, Miss Fairbanks. I know this is a hard time for you—”
“Yes,” Leanne cut in, then returned to her mother’s side. The man had no idea.
“Ms. Fairbanks,” Mark said to her, “my mother is waiting at the hotel where we’re having the luncheon.” He rubbed the back of his neck, then shook his head. “I’m rambling, sorry. I’m still processing this. I want you to come back with me so we can straighten all this out.”
Leanne raised an eyebrow. “There’s nothing to straighten out. Talking to your mother won’t change my paternity. Lionel Collins is—was—my father.”
“No one is arguing that point,” said Benton. He glanced at Mark. “It would benefit everyone to understand what’s at stake here. We could stop at my office.”
He turned to her mother and hesitated.
“I don’t believe I’ll come,” her mother said with a slight smile. “I understand Gloria’s feelings, and I’m not up to the stares and gossip myself.”
“What do you mean ‘what’s at stake?’” Mark asked.
Benton peered toward the door. The workers stood smoking under the meager shelter of a tree a few feet away.
“I don’t give a damn about someone overhearing—”
Benton sighed. “Mark, you don’t want it in the news that the Collins heirs were heard fighting at the interment.”
“‘Heirs?’” Mark voiced Leanne’s thought. He looked at her, then her mother.
Leanne put an arm around her mom.
Her mother studied the lawyer. “You said you need to speak with my daughter, Mr. Benton?”
He nodded.
After a moment, she inclined her head, and Benton’s shoulders relaxed. What private communication did they just have? Leanne wondered.
Her mother turned to her. “Why don’t you go with them, honey? I’ve got my car. I’m sure they can bring you home after you finish.”
“Of course,” Mark said. “I’ll see to it myself.”
Leanne heard his formal tone and took it as reticence. “That won’t be necessary. I can afford a cab.”
Benton studied his shoes while Mark frowned.
