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Three Blind-Date Brides: Nine-to-Five Bride
Melissa McClone
Fiona Harper
Jennie Adams
Nine-to-Five BrideMarissa was not concerned about turning thirty – joining an online dating website was just a bit of fun! She was happy being single. Though her sexy new boss did make her go wobbly at the knees. But Rick was so not Mr Right! More Mr Tall, Dark and Dangerous!If he asked her out, Marissa would definitely say no… Blind-Date Baby Signed up to online dating by her daughter who’d finally flown the nest, Grace felt she could still be thirty-ten and flirty! She couldn’t believe her luck when her blind date, Noah, was tall, dark and handsome.Now Grace is in for a big surprise…she’s forty, flirty and pregnant! Dream Date with the Millionaire Dani wasn’t looking for a man, but her new job required her to sign up to online dating.The last thing she expected was to be paired with a devastatingly attractive millionaire! She expected Bryce to take one look and judge her – like all other men. But Bryce isn’t just any man…
Is your perfect man just a click away? Really?
From First Date to Wedding Date!
Three Blind- Date Brides
Three fabulous linked romances from
favourite authors Jennie Adams, Fiona Harper
and Melissa McClone
Three Blind-
Date Brides
Nine-to-Five Bride
Jennie Adams
Blind-Date Baby
Fiona Harper
Dream Date with the Millionaire
Melissa McClone
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Nine-to-Five Bride
Jennie Adams
Welcome to the www.blinddatebrides.com member profile of: Kangagirl (aka Marissa Warren)
My ideal partner …
I’m a very ordinary girl looking for Mr Nice and Ordinary to date, with the possibility of forever and a family one day, if it’s what we both want. You should be willing to respect my rights in a partnership of honesty, openness, affection and friendship that will create the strong foundation we need to be together and stay together. You should be gainfully employed, in a job that puts food on the table and pays the bills rather than one that is the core of your existence. Therefore Mr Tall, Dark and Driven need not apply!
My details …
• Age: 29 years young
• I live: in Sydney
• Marital status: single
• Occupation: secretary
You’ll match if you …
• Are between 29 and 35 years old
• Either live in Sydney or want to live here
• Are also single, but with a child would be okay
• No corporate highfliers
About the Author
Australian author JENNIE ADAMS grew up in a rambling farmhouse surrounded by books and by people who loved reading them. She decided at a young age to be a writer, but it took many years and a lot of scenic detours before she sat down to pen her first romance novel. Jennie is married to her own real-life hero, and together they share a hers-and-theirs family of three adult children. Jennie has worked in a number of careers and voluntary positions, including as a transcription typist and a pre-school assistant. Jennie makes her home in a small inland city in New South Wales. In her leisure time she loves taking long walks, starting knitting projects that she rarely finishes, chatting with friends, going to the movies and new dining experiences. Jennie loves to hear from her readers and can be contacted via her website at www.jennieadams.net.
For Fiona Harper and Melissa McClone.
How much fun was this?
For Joanne Carr and Kimberley Young,
with thanks for making the www.blinddatebrides.com trilogy a reality.
And to the special man in my life—I won’t tell we agreed
on marriage on our first date if you don’t!
CHAPTER ONE
‘YOU want us to turn this smaller bridge into a clone of the historic Pyrmont Bridge. I’m sorry, but we can’t do that for you. The sites simply don’t compare.’ The boss of the Sydney-based Morgan Construction, Building and Architecture braced his feet on the uninspiring bridge in question, drew a deep breath and blew it out as he addressed the middle-aged man at his side.
Rick Morgan’s rich voice held an edge of command and control that shivered over Marissa Warren’s senses. The three of them stood atop the small Sydney bridge while the Morgan’s boss explained the company’s stance on the refurbishment plans. Rick could bring about virtually any architectural feat, be it in refurbishment or new construction. What he wasn’t prepared to do was break his own code of working standards.
A pity Marissa couldn’t push away her equally unfeasible reactions to the man. She hadn’t expected an attack of awareness of the company’s big boss. The girls in the office swooned about Rick, but Marissa was no longer interested in hot corporate types. Been there, so over that.
It must be the sway factor of the bridge getting to her. Or the sea wind pressing hard against her back trying to disrupt her balance. Those must be responsible for the odd feelings coursing through her.
Anything other than genuine attraction to this corporate high-flyer who owned the large company that employed her. Since she’d started at Morgan’s six months ago she hadn’t said more than ‘good morning’ to the boss in passing and, frankly, close proximity to a man with power on his mind made her want to run in the other direction, as fast as her pink glow-in-the-dark joggers could take her.
It hadn’t exactly worked out well for her the last time, had it? Tricked, taken advantage of and publicly dumped, all in the name of career advancement. Michael Unsworth’s, to be precise.
Marissa tugged her gold blouse into place over the chocolate skirt and noted Rick’s words on her steno pad. Not noticing him. Not the charisma, nor the stunning grey eyes fringed with thick black lashes. Certainly not the leashed sensuality that seemed an integral part of him. So totally not noticing any of that.
Anyway, she’d just recently finished telling her Blinddatebrides.com friends Grace and Dani, aka Englishcrumpet and Sanfrandani, about her utter commitment to finding her Mr Ordinary. Though she’d only known Dani and Grace over the Internet a matter of weeks, they were wonderful women and understood and encouraged Marissa’s dating goals. She meant to find that Mr Ordinary, to prove to the world … Well, simply to prove she could control her own destiny, thanks very much.
‘This bridge isn’t a key thoroughfare, Cartwright. It doesn’t impact on port access for large seafaring craft.’ Rick’s strong tanned hand gestured to emphasise his words. ‘It isn’t a Heritage listed structure and its refurbishment won’t make it look like one. The work needs to be about strength, durability and safety in keeping with the established design. The company’s initial assessment explained this.’
The bridge spanned two small juts of Sydney’s coastline. It rested within the city’s sprawling confines but was far from core harbour material. Here there were no stunning views. No Sydney Harbour Bridge. No shell-shaped Opera House rising as though directly from the water.
Unlike Pyrmont, with its massive central swing span, this bridge was just a smallish, nondescript one tucked away on a commercial section of shore.
‘You’re not listening to what I want.’ Cartwright’s mouth tightened.
‘I’ve listened. As did the Project Manager who liaised with you initially. The advice in his report was sound.’ Overhead, a seagull offered a cry to the pale blue sky as it searched the ocean below for food.
Rick had a strong face to match his strong tone. Wide cheekbones and a firm square jaw that, even at nine-thirty in the morning, revealed a dark beard shadow beneath the skin. A tall vital man with thick shoulders and defined musculature beneath the perfectly cut charcoal suit and pale green shirt.
Marissa didn’t want to be aware of him, but she couldn’t seem to help it.
‘We can make something truly stupendous of this area.’ Cartwright repeated his mantra.
Again.
For about the tenth time, paying apparently no attention at all to Rick’s explanation.
The company boss growled softly beneath his breath.
It was not a sexy growl!
Marissa inhaled the tang of sea air and Rick’s citrusy aftershave cologne and stopped herself from closing her eyes in what would have been a completely inappropriate appreciative sigh.
Instead, she forced her attention to Cartwright’s rounded face. Maybe she could help … ‘Since you’re limited with what you can do in terms of refurbishing this bridge, perhaps you could implement some onshore improvements to emphasise the dock area and make the most of that aspect of things?’
‘My thoughts exactly, Marissa. Something more commercially viable.’ Rick cast a quick glance her way, offering a small nod of approval. The quirk of his lips that went with that approval made her tummy flutter.
Okay, so the company boss could show appreciation as well as look good. He still fell under the Tall, Dark and Aggressive about Success category.
She reminded herself rather desperately that that definition was one hundred per cent not right for her. Despite what her headed-for-thirty-years-of-age and back in the dating pool hormones might suggest otherwise. What did they know, anyway?
Enough to make her join a dating site, and to recognise an appealing man when she saw one?
The first had been a sensible, well-considered decision, nothing more, and, as for the second …
‘Not going there,’ Marissa muttered towards the foaming sea and tossed her head of curly hair before she remembered the hard hat squashed over the top of it.
Fine, so the impact was lost a little. And she hadn’t actually been thinking about emotions. She’d made her choices clinically. That was all she needed to remember. Marissa grimaced and shoved the hat out of her eyes.
‘Are you all right?’ Rick leaned his head close to hers. The grey of his eyes deepened with a combination of amusement and interest as his gaze roved over the hard hat, her face, the hair sticking out about her cheeks and neck.
‘I’m fine, thank you.’ He probably wondered why she’d tossed her head like that. ‘It was nothing, really. I had a twitch.’
In the brain. It started when I looked into your eyes this morning as you said, ‘Good, you’re here,’ in that deep, toe-curling voice and it hiccups back every time I look at you or listen to you.
‘Er … a twitch that made my head nod and the hat fall forward.’
Toe-curling, authoritative voice, Marissa. Get it right if you’re going to think it at all.
‘I see.’ Though his lips didn’t move, Rick’s eyes smiled.
Marissa stared at that charming expression and thought, deadly. The man was deadly to her senses.
‘A central steel swing span—’ Cartwright began again.
‘Would require a whole new bridge, one far larger than this one and located in deeper water.’ Rick raised a hand as though to push it through his hair—also covered by a hard hat, except in his case he looked good in it—and dropped it to his side again. ‘As Hedley told you in his assessment.’
‘Hedley isn’t management level,’ the man spluttered. ‘He doesn’t understand some of the committee members’ vision for the project. We could have the bridge swing open and closed at certain times of the day—a ceremonial thing even if only smaller craft passed through. It could create a major tourist attraction.’
‘But you don’t have the funds or planning permission to make that kind of change,’ Rick pointed out gently, ‘nor the conditions or traffic to demand it.’
‘I have influence where the approval is concerned.’ Cartwright suddenly turned to glare in Marissa’s direction. ‘Are you getting all this, girly? I don’t see that pen moving.’
‘It’s a stenographer’s pencil,’ Marissa corrected kindly while Rick’s big body stiffened at her side. ‘I’ve written down every new piece of information you’ve provided and, actually, I’m almost thirty. Not quite a “girly” any more.’
‘Miss Warren is part of the Morgan’s team. She is not—’
‘Not at all perturbed,’ Marissa inserted while a flow of gratified warmth filled her.
Rick drew a breath. His gaze locked with hers and the starch left him. His voice dipped about an octave as he murmured, ‘Well, you really don’t look …’
‘That old?’ She meant her response to sound cheerful, unconcerned. Instead, it came out with a breathless edge, the result of that considering gaze on her. Of the way he had championed her, despite never having worked directly with her until today.
And perhaps a little because of her need not to feel quite as ancient as she did in the face of her looming birthday. ‘Thank you for thinking so.’
Thank you very, very much and you look appealing yourself. Very appealing.
Did hormones have voices? Whispery ones that piped up right when they were least welcome?
First chance we get, Marissa thought, those hormones and I are having a Come To Mama meeting and I’m telling them who’s in charge of this show. Namely, me.
Stupid birthdays, anyway. They should be cancelled after twenty-five and never referred to again.
You’ll have found Mr Right by your birthday and won’t have time to notice that over a third of your estimated life span has passed you by while you wasted some of it on Michael Unsworth, the cheating, lying, using—
‘Well. What was it we were saying?’ Marissa forced a smile. She mustn’t think of Michael, or of Rick Morgan’s charismatic presence.
‘We were discussing this bridge …’ Prosaic words but Rick’s gaze moved over her with a delicious consciousness before it was quickly masked.
He was attracted to her!
Her hormones cheered.
Marissa frowned.
