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The Bridal Suite
Sandra Marton
DO NOT Disturb Anything can happen behind closed doors!The newspapers called her new boss a financial genius; the gossip columns branded him gorgeous. But Dana knew Griffin McKenna took whatever he wanted, be it a company or a woman. She could think of other words to describe him: arrogant, egotistical, self-important … .When Dana and Griffin arrived at an important conference to find they had to share a room, Dana was ready to run - a whole weekend spent with Griffin in the Bridal Suite? But then she experienced for herself the McKenna take-over technique… to genius and gorgeous, add great lover!
Excerpt (#u5aa8622a-1c1b-57d0-b36d-c761bc0c58a7)Title Page (#u6f1cee84-2b8f-5d84-a975-7d4483bd6277)CHAPTER ONE (#uea8353b1-8463-5621-91a1-56f25b062680)CHAPTER TWO (#ub5a44a79-aa01-515f-beda-af2b2417db5f)CHAPTER THREE (#ube3da318-ee9e-555d-b526-da0f43348390)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)CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
“And now you’re telling me you haven’t got one room available in this entire hotel?”
“I’m afraid that is correct, sir. Well, we do have an accommodation, but—”
“We’ll take it.”
Dana touched Griffin’s arm. “McKenna,” she whispered.
Griffin swung towards her. “What?”
She looked at the clerk, then at him. “We cannot share a room.”
“Did you hear what the man said? This room he’s offering us is all there is.”
“I don’t care. There is no way I am going to share a room with—”
“Oh, it isn’t a room, madam.”
Griffin and Dana both looked at the clerk, who swallowed nervously.
“It’s a suite.”
A slow smile edged across Griffin’s face. “A suite? Don’t tell me. What is it? The Presidential Suite?”
The clerk looked from Griffin to Dana. She could almost feel his distress. “Not exactly, sir,” he said, and cleared his throat. “It’s—it’s the Bridal Suite.”
The Bridal Suite
Sandra Marton
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CHAPTER ONE
GRIFFIN MCKENNA was a pirate.
The newspapers, and the Wall Street pundits, said he was a financial genius, but Dana Anderson knew better. McKenna was a pirate, plain and simple. He took whatever he wanted, whether it was a corporation or a woman.
What else could you call a man like that?
Gorgeous, that was what, according to the gossip columns. Dana supposed there were some women who’d find him attractive. The sapphire-blue eyes, the thick, silky black hair, the cleft chin and the nose that was almost perfectly straight except for a faint bend in the middle...all of it seemed exactly right for McKenna’s broad-shouldered, long-legged body.
So what? Nobody’d ever said pirates had to be homely.
McKenna bought companies that were in trouble, scooping them up like a kid taking candy from a dish, and turned them into moneymakers. And, they said, he managed such feats because he had skill, courage and determination. They left out the fact that he’d also started life with an inheritance big enough to float a small kingdom, or that he got obvious pleasure from controlling the destinies of others.
And from having people fawn over him—especially women.
But not all women, thought Dana as she marched down the hall to McKenna’s office. No, definitely not all. She, for instance, was not the least bit impressed by the man. She’d seen him, early on, for what he was. Not just a pirate but a charter member of the Good Old Boys club. An arrogant, egotistical, self-important Male Chauvinist, capital M, capital C.
What he needed, instead of gushing columnists and swooning females, was the truth.
Well, she was about to deliver it.
She paused outside his office.
Not the truth about his overrated, overpublicized self. Dana wasn’t a fool. She had more than a job here, at Data Bytes; she had a career, one she’d worked damn hard for, and she intended to keep it. The truth she’d tell him. the truth he needed to learn, was about the company’s all-new, highly touted computer program, the one that was going to be on display at the big software convention in Miami this coming weekend—the program that was supposed to save Data Bytes from going belly-up.
But it wouldn’t. It couldn’t, because the code that underlay it was a disaster.
She’d already tried telling that to McKenna a week ago.
“Mr. McKenna is a very busy man,” his secretary, the formidable Miss Macy, had said. Dana had replied that The Very Busy Man himself had made it clear, during the organizational meeting he’d held, that he was also A Very Approachable Man.
She hadn’t mentioned that he’d also made it clear he was a man who believed in gender equality the way a skunk believed in deodorants.
Not that it came as a surprise. What kind of man got his name into the gossip columns all the time? What kind of man was photographed with a different woman each week?
What kind of man made the sort of joke McKenna had made at that organizational meeting?
“Remember,” he’d intoned solemnly, “we’re all in this together, people. If Data Bytes is going to fulfill the vision I have for it—and I assure you, it will—it’ll be because every man here works his tail off to make it happen.”
“Every man, and woman,” Jeannie Aarons had called out, and McKenna had grinned along with all the others.
“An interesting observation,” he’d said with wide-eyed innocence, and, after the laughter had died down, he’d added that he never doubted the value of the “female of the species.”
“I’ll just bet you don’t,” Dana had muttered under her breath.
If she had any lingering doubts, McKenna had swept them aside when she’d met with him last week, after Macy had finally agreed to grant her an audience. She had come armed with printouts to support her contention that the new code was not going to be ready on time—but McKenna hadn’t been the least bit interested in listening.
“How do you do?” he’d said, rising from behind his desk like an emperor greeting his subject. “Would you care for some coffee? Some tea?”
“Nothing, thank you,” Dana had said politely, and then she’d launched into her speech only to have McKenna cut her off in the middle with an imperious wave of the hand.
“Yes, yes,” he’d said. “Dave told me that he thought you might come by to protect.”
“I’m not protesting, sir,” Dana started to say, but then his words hit home. “Dave told you? You mean, you already know there’s a problem?” It was such a relief, knowing Dave had finally faced reality, that she smiled. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. I never dreamed—”
“—That you’d be passed over for promotion.” McKenna nodded. “Dave explained that to me. He understands why that’s made you unhappy.”
“I was passed over. But that isn’t why—”
“He also told me that you’ve complained that you haven’t been given enough credit for your work.”
“Complained?”
“Politely, of course.” McKenna flashed a patronizing smile. “He assured me you were every inch the lady when you brought it to his attention.”
“Did he,” Dana said coolly.
“He was very open,” McKenna said. He smiled again, this time with unctuous sympathy. “You see, we go back a long way together, Dave and I. We belonged to the same fraternity.”
“Do tell.” Dana said, even more coldly.
“I assure you, Miss Anderson, your efforts will not go unrewarded. I’m going to institute a bonus plan, and—”
“Mr. McKenna,” Dana took a steadying breath. “This isn’t about getting credit for my work, or about that promotion. I came to tell you that the new code isn’t going to work! If you introduce it at the Miami conference—”
“Not ‘if,’ Miss Anderson. When. And it won’t be me introducing it, it will be Dave. I suppose you’d hoped for that chance yourself, but—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Dana shot to her feet and glared at him. “I’m not looking for a shoulder to weep on, dammit! I came to warn you that the code’s a mess, but if you don’t want to hear it, there’s nothing I can do.”
“And why is it a mess, Miss Anderson?”
“Because...” Dana hesitated. Because Dave’s a drunk, she’d almost said, but McKenna would never believe her. “Because it’s got bugs. Little bits of code that are written wrong.”
“So Dave tells me. He also tells me you wrote those little bits of code, Miss Anderson. Not that he or I hold you responsible, of course, considering your lack of experience.”
“My what?”
“But he assured me that you’ll learn. He says you’re bright, and quick.”
Dana stared at him in astonishment. “I don’t believe this. I absolutely don’t—”
“And now, if you’ll forgive me...” McKenna had smiled politely as he rose to his feet, came around his desk and lightly grasped her elbow. “Thank you for stopping by,” he’d said in a way that made it clear she was dismissed. “My door is always open to my employees, Miss Anderson—or may I call you Dana?”
Dana, who’d been so angry by then that she could hardly see straight, had pulled free of his grasp.
“You may call me Ms. Anderson,” she’d snapped.
And what a stupid thing that had been to say. Even now, the memory made her shudder. Nobody, nobody, at Data Bytes was so ridiculously formal. People went around in jeans and T-shirts with funny sayings on them. Why, she was the only one who dressed in suits and tailored shirts, but when you sat down to pee instead of standing up, you had to work harder at winning a place on the team. Despite all the gender equality laws, the playing field was far from equal. Just look at how McKenna had thought he was complimenting her last week, telling her she was a lady....
“Miss Anderson. Sorry. I meant, Ms. Anderson, of course.”
The familiar voice, a sort of honeyed growl, came from just behind her. Dana swung around and found herself facing Griffin McKenna.
“Mr. McKenna. I didn’t—I thought—”
“Tongue-tied, Ms. Anderson? How very unusual.”
Dana blushed. How could he manage that? He had a way of making her feel—what was the word? Incompetent? No. Not that She knew her stuff; you didn’t get as far as she’d gotten on the corporate ladder without being damn good at what you did. Uncertain. Yes, that was it. He made her feel uncertain. It had to do with that little smile on his mouth when he looked at her, as if he knew something she didn’t
“Were you looking for me? Or were you simply planning on skulking in the hallway?”
“I have never skulked in my life, Mr. McKenna. Yes, as a matter of fact, I was looking for you. We need to talk.”
McKenna’s brows lifted. “Again?”
“Again,” she said, holding her ground.
“Well...” He shot back his cuff, frowned at his watch, then nodded. “I suppose I can give you a few minutes.”
Such generosity! Dana forced a smile to her lips.
“Thank you,” she said, and strode through the door ahead of him, past a surprised-looking Miss Macy, who was guarding McKenna’s lair with her usual dragon-like efficiency, and into his office.
“She doesn’t have an appointment, sir,” the Dragon hissed.
“That’s all right, Miss Macy,” McKenna said soothingly. He paused, just long enough to give the Anderson babe time to stalk halfway across the carpet toward his desk. It was the polite thing to do, but hell, who was he kidding? What he wanted was the view.
And there it was.
Ms. Anderson had the walk of a lioness, all power and pride, and the golden hair to match. And her eyes, when she turned to face him...they were the color of emeralds. Her mouth was lush and soft-looking, made all the more tempting because she never seemed to bother with lipstick. And oh, that body, curved and feminine despite the dowdy suits she wore....
Griffin closed the door and leaned back against it, arms folded over his chest.
It certainly was a pity that a woman who looked like this should be such a cold piece of work. But then, Dave had warned him.
“The Anderson babe’s a hard case, Griff,” he’d said. “You know the type. She wishes to God she’d been born a guy but since she wasn’t, she holds every man since Adam responsible for the world’s woes.”
Griffin sighed, walked to his desk and sat down behind it. Why did some women want to be what Nature had not meant them to be? He’d never been able to understand it.
“Well, Ms. Anderson,” he said, “what can I do for you today?”
Dana cleared her throat. “Mr. McKenna—”
What was he doing? Dana frowned. He was looking through the stack of papers on his desk, that’s what he was doing.
“Mr. McKenna?”
He looked up. “Hmm?”
“Sir, I was trying to tell you about—”
He was doing it again! Bending that dark head of his, thumbing through what appeared to be a bunch of telephone memos, instead of paying attention to her.
“Mr. McKenna. I’d appreciate it if you’d listen.”
“Sorry.”
He looked up, and she could tell from the expression on his face that he wasn’t the least bit sorry. As far as he was concerned, she was wasting his time.
Dana took a deep breath.
