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Working Overtime
Raye Morgan
As the devoted single mother of two rambunctious boys - and as the best darn paralegal in town - Chareen Wolf knew all about hard work. But she'd never before had a job so demanding that she and her boss actually had to live together - day after day, night after night…. Trouble was, her new boss had her heartbeat working overtime, too. Michael Greco was devastatingly handsome, irresistibly charming - and clearly determined to keep her with him long after business hours!Yet despite their combustible chemistry, the hard-driving executive hadn't exactly scheduled marriage - or kids - into his future. However, now that she'd finally found the man of her dreams, Chareen wasn't about to throw in the towel. Could they land the deal of a lifetime…together?
Suddenly Chareen was lying on the bed—fully dressed—and Michael was on top of her.
She gasped. His hard, warm body was pressed to hers in so many places. To have a man so close, so strong, was unbelievably intoxicating. It had been so long….
There was a moan starting deep in her throat. Was it a moan of surrender? Of triumph? Of overwhelming desire?
She would never know, because at that moment there was a new sound from the hallway: “Mama? Mama?”
Her eyes snapped open and she used the hands that had been kneading the muscles of his chest to throw him off her. She ran to the door and scooped into her arms the two little redheaded boys standing there.
“Where did they come from?” Michael asked.
Chareen looked at him, and her chin rose. “They’re mine,” she said proudly. “Say hello to Mr. Greco, boys. He’s my boss.”
Dear Reader,
We’ve been trying to capture what Silhouette Romance means to our readers, our authors and ourselves. In canvassing some authors, I’ve heard wonderful words about the characteristics of a Silhouette Romance novel—innate tenderness, lively, thoughtful, fun, emotional, hopeful, satisfying, warm, sparkling, genuine and affirming.
It pleases me immensely that our writers are proud of their line and their readers! And I hope you’re equally delighted with their offerings. Be sure to drop a line or visit our Web site and let us know what we’re doing right—and any particular favorite topics you want to revisit.
This month we have another fantastic lineup filled with variety and strong writing. We have a new continuity—HAVING THE BOSS’S BABY! Judy Christenberry’s When the Lights Went Out… starts off the series about a powerful executive’s discovery that one woman in his office is pregnant with his child. But who could it be? Next month Elizabeth Harbison continues the series with A Pregnant Proposal.
Other stories for this month include Stella Bagwell’s conclusion to our MAITLAND MATERNITY spin-off. Go find The Missing Maitland. Raye Morgan’s popular office novels continue with Working Overtime. And popular Intimate Moments author Beverly Bird delights us with an amusing tale about Ten Ways To Win Her Man.
Two more emotional titles round out the month. With her writing partner, Debrah Morris wrote nearly fifteen titles for Silhouette Books as Pepper Adams. Now she’s on her own with A Girl, a Guy and a Lullaby. And Martha Shields’s dramatic stories always move me. Her Born To Be a Dad opens with an unusual, powerful twist and continues to a highly satisfying ending!
Enjoy these stories, and keep in touch.
Mary-Theresa Hussey,
Senior Editor
Working Overtime
Raye Morgan
To Kim Nadelson, for all those great editor things you do.
RAYE MORGAN
has spent almost two decades, while writing over fifty novels, searching for the answer to that elusive question: Just what is that special magic that happens when a man and a woman fall in love? Every time she thinks she has the answer, a new wrinkle pops up, necessitating another book! Meanwhile, after living in Holland, Guam, Japan and Washington, D.C., she currently makes her home in Southern California with her husband and two of her four boys.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter One
The first thing Michael Greco heard was her low, velvety voice, and when he heard it, the hair stood up on the back of his neck.
He froze, his hand on a volume of contract dispute records, his heart beating just a little faster. He’d never heard a voice like that before. It seemed to curl around his senses like a slinky cat might wrap itself around your ankles, all sleek and seductive, and at the same time, a provocative mystery that promised to stay just out of reach.
He’d come into the law section of TriTerraCorp’s empty corporate library to do a little research over the lunch hour. For the last thirty minutes he’d been lost in his search, hidden by the tall bookcases, hardly noticing the group of women who’d come into the library after he’d arrived. The newcomers were gathered around the copy machine, laughing about something they seemed to be working on, obviously oblivious to the fact that he was in the room. The thick carpeting and the constant hum from the computers and other appliances helped to mask his presence. He’d ignored the women. But then that voice had arrived and greeted the others.
“Well, what do we have here?” she said, her voice husky in a way that stopped him in his tracks. “Is this a secret meeting of the Third Floor Conspiracy, or can anyone join in?”
“Hi, Char” came the slightly nervous answer, along with a rustling of paper. “We’re just…uh…we’re just…”
“Oh, let her see it,” a higher voice said impatiently. “Char’s okay. She won’t turn us in. Look, Char, it’s a calendar that we’ve been working on. Just something for laughs, to pass around the office.”
“A calendar?” Her rich tone seemed to vibrate his senses. “How controversial can that be? Let’s see it.”
There was more rustling of paper.
“Oh, you naughty girls. What have you done?”
Her laugh was just as provocative as he’d thought it would be, and he narrowed his eyes, enjoying it.
“The Most Eligible Bachelors of TriTerraCorp. What a good idea. These pictures are priceless.”
“Aren’t they great? The office hunks. Sherry did the graphics on her computer. She’s an artist at this stuff.”
Michael softly slid the book back into place on the shelf, cursing himself for his involuntary reaction. He still had goose bumps, and it was just a voice, after all. The woman probably looked like a tree gnome.
And, anyway, it didn’t matter if she did or she didn’t. He’d promised himself a woman-free trip this time. He’d spent too much time dating interchangeable lovelies ever since his marriage had crumbled into the dust and left him grasping for a new focus to his life. Wine, women and song were never the answer to that problem—though it sometimes took a while to get that through thick heads like his.
“Ignore the voice,” he muttered softly to himself, frowning as he tried to remember what he was looking for on the bookshelf.
But there it was again.
“You’ve even got Greg Holstein,” she was recounting. “He looks so cute in that lion suit! And Andy Martinez from Security as a trapeze artist. Sherry, this is a hoot.”
He swallowed hard. This was really strange. Her voice did something to him. It was almost the way a tuning fork resonated as it caught a note. He felt something respond inside every time she spoke. There was no use trying to pretend it wasn’t happening. But nothing like this had ever happened to him before.
Maybe it was lack of sleep, he told himself grimly. After all, the night before he’d had a rough time. After a long, tiring flight from Florida, the company had put him up at the best hotel in Rio de Oro, but there was a rodeo in town filling most of the rooms and the partying had gone on fast and furious all night long. If he’d had a full hour’s sleep, he hadn’t noticed it, and now his eyes felt grainy and his head was throbbing. That had to be it. Fatigue had thrown off his internal balance or something.
Still, this had gone so far, he knew he had to see what this Char woman looked like. He tried to get a glimpse through the shelves, but the copy machine was at an angle and he only got a quick look at a flash of skirt. He was going to have to come out from the stacks and reveal himself if he wanted to see any more.
He sauntered casually out from behind the bookcase, and he could see the group of women clearly now. There were four of them, but the only one that held his gaze was the blonde who had her back to him. Her moonlight-silver hair was straight and silky as it fell halfway down to the small of her back. She wore a light blue suit that was cut snuggly enough to reveal a trim, firm body with a neat waist and hips that were appealingly round and inviting. There was a slit in the skirt that showed off legs as long as any he’d ever seen. If this was a tree gnome, they were making them less gnomelike these days.
“And…oh wait,” she was saying, pulling out a new page that hadn’t been attached to the others yet just as he settled his attention on her. “Is this Michael Greco person the new acquisitions specialist who’s supposed to arrive today? How did you get a picture of him so quickly? I thought he’d just been loaned out by the Miami office. Is he even here yet?”
At that moment, one of the women turned her head and noticed him and her mouth dropped open in horror.
“He’s here,” the tall blonde named Sherry was saying. “I saw him when he checked in this morning and I didn’t have to think twice. Listen, one look at the boy and you know he’s calendar material. I snuck that photo from Human Resources. That’s what we were working on when you came in, making copies. I’ve got to get the original back before lunch hour is over.”
Another of the women noticed Michael and began tugging on the arm of the third. But so far, Char didn’t know he was there, and Sherry didn’t, either.
“The funny thing is, I’ve just been assigned to do some research for him,” Char said musingly, holding the calendar out as though to get a better perspective. “Hmm….” Her voice trailed off.
“Isn’t he a cutie?” Sherry asked, beaming.
“A cutie? I don’t know.” Char put her head to the side as though she couldn’t quite get a fix on the picture. “He’s got that playboy look in his eyes, if you ask me.”
Sherry’s head swung around and she blanched. By now all three women knew Michael was standing just a few feet away. Only Char was oblivious.
“Uh…Char?” Sherry whispered urgently.
But Char was lost in contemplating the picture in the calendar.
“I’ll go even further,” she said. “I’d say he’s got a shifty look. His eyes are too close together. And there’s a ruthless set to his mouth I don’t really go for.” She shook her head. “Nope. I don’t like him.”
“Char!” Sherry wailed, reaching out as though to grab her friend and run.
But Michael didn’t give her time to do that. Stepping forward, he put a hand on the blonde’s shoulder.
“A real shady character, huh?” he drawled. “Here, let me have a look.”
Char slapped the calendar to her chest, spun on her heels and stared up into his hazel eyes. Her own eyes widened, then she blinked.
“Oops,” she said, making a face.
He looked down into her sparkling gaze and forgot to breathe for a moment. Yes, the face was just as good as the rest of her. That hair the color of moonbeams framed skin as pale as fine china with eyes as blue as a summer sky. Her lips were full and lush and perfect for kissing, and when he finally did draw in a breath, her wildflower-fresh scent filled his head. He felt a surge of desire so strong, a part of him wanted to grab her and carry her off to some private place, caveman-style. If there had ever been such a thing as a woman made especially for him, this would have been her.
He swallowed hard and forced himself to ignore that fact. “May I see the picture?” he asked coolly, holding out his hand.
She shook her head, holding the calendar tightly to her chest. “Oh, no, Mr. Greco, I don’t think you want to do that,” she warned, her eyes full of apprehension.
The other women were murmuring a warning as well, but he didn’t pay any attention. “Come on,” he said, his gaze holding Chareen’s. “How bad can it be?”
A flash of resentment flared in her gaze and he wondered if he’d come off a bit too arrogant. That was just as well, of course. He’d vowed to keep his distance from all attractive women on this trip, so why not lay a firm foundation? Still, he smiled as he held out his hand again.
She hesitated, then slowly pulled the calendar away from her body and handed it to him.
He looked down and frowned. “What the hell…?” he said, looking up at her and then down at the calendar again.
The picture had his head right, but the rest was pure fantasy. Somehow Sherry had attached the head from his file picture to the body of an extremely muscular pirate, ruffled shirt open to his waist, pants that fit like leotards and revealed more than was prudent. A jaunty black eye patch and a curved sword completed the picture. All in all, the result looked closer to a male stripper than it did to anything resembling reality. He looked into Chareen’s eyes again. Was that laughter he saw playing hide-and-seek among the silvery shimmers?
“It’s just a joke,” she said quickly. “They don’t mean anything by it.”
“It’s all in fun, Mr. Greco,” Sherry chimed in, snatching the calendar from him with a nervous smile and beginning to back from the room. “I’m sorry if you’re offended. I’ll take your picture out. I’ll tear it up.” She demonstrated, ripping it out of the calendar and tearing it right before his eyes. “I’ll burn it. No one will ever see it again. I swear.” With a wide-eyed look at Chareen, she turned and disappeared through the doorway, along with her two co-conspirators. Giggling could be heard in the halls, then silence.
Chareen cleared her throat and tried to look innocent. Holding out her hand, she looked up at him and smiled brightly. “Well, Mr. Greco. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Chareen Wolf. I guess we’ll be working together for a few weeks.”
Or…maybe not. He hesitated before taking her hand. There was no hint of amusement in his gaze, and she wondered for just a moment if he was going to hold what he’d heard her say against her. Should she apologize? Or pretend to have forgotten all about it?
But he finally did accept her handshake, though his side of it was rather perfunctory. “You are the expert in old Spanish land grants, aren’t you?” he said crisply, his eyes cool as they assessed her. “I was told I was going to need you if I wanted to get the acquisitions accomplished in a timely manner.”
“Guilty as charged,” she admitted, refusing to let him see any nervousness on her part. “I’m a paralegal. I know something about early-nineteenth-century Spanish legal language. And I specialize in researching old deeds.”
He nodded. “Just what I’m going to need.” He gestured toward the doorway. “Why don’t we stop in at the coffee shop and work up our strategy for this project over a cup of coffee?”
She hesitated. She’d had other plans for the rest of her lunch hour. But she supposed they could wait. For the time being, he was the boss. “Fine,” she said, turning toward the doorway.
They didn’t speak again as they strode side by side down the hallway. Chareen stared straight ahead, but her mind was racing. She wasn’t sure she could do this. Michael Greco was nothing like what she’d expected.
The last acquisitions specialist she’d worked with had been a huge, balding man with a laugh that shook the rafters of the building. They had worked really well together, and when she’d told Leonard Trask, the Legal Services manager who was almost like a second father to her, that she would be willing to take that sort of assignment again, she had expected to be paired with another older, nonthreatening sort of man. But Sherry had been right about one thing. Michael Greco belonged in a hunk calendar.
That in itself wasn’t going to be easy to deal with. It had been a long, long time since she’d had a man in her life, and she was determined it would be a much longer time before anything like that happened again. She had two little boys at home who were the result of her last experiment in romance. Her life was set. She was a single mom, and she had no intention of being anything else for the time being. Working closely with a man who had this sort of masculine appeal was not going to be a piece of cake.
But there was more. There was something about him that bothered her to the core of her soul and made her wish she could think of a way to get out of this assignment. She’d noticed it from the first, when she’d seen the picture Sherry had made from the photo she’d borrowed from Human Resources. He reminded her of someone—Danny McGuire, the father of those two little boys. It was just a fluke, of course, just a chance resemblance. But it was enough to make her wish she was anywhere but here. She only hoped they could get on with the business at hand and get it over with. The sooner the better.
She chose a latte, while Michael Greco poured himself a large cup of some very black blend, and they made their way to a table near the window, overlooking the rolling green lawn that led down to a small, reed-fringed duck pond. He made a move as though thinking of pulling her chair out for her, but she hurriedly pulled it out for herself, then felt a bit foolish for having done so.
But what the heck? She’d been doing things that made her look foolish from the very beginning with this man. She wasn’t sure why that bothered her so much, but it did. And that was unusual, because she was known around here for being a little sassy, a little brash, and a whole lot sure of herself. It wasn’t true, of course. But she had managed to develop the reputation. It was a good shield against her real feelings.
She glanced at him sideways as he began to talk, going over the fundamentals of the White Stones project. Did he really look a lot like Danny, or was she imagining things? He did have the same sort of thick brown hair, cut very much like Danny used to wear it. And his hazel eyes were just as knowing. But his nose was straighter. His had more of a Roman look, whereas Danny’s had looked as though it had been molded by a street fight or two. And his mouth was different. Danny’s had always been twisted in a mocking grin. Michael Greco had only smiled once that she knew of, when they had first come face-to-face. Ever since, she’d been getting the feeling that he didn’t want to be with her any more than she wanted to be with him. She moved restlessly in her seat, wondering why this meeting was so uncomfortable for them both. Maybe, for some people, it was dislike at first sight.
She wished, suddenly, that she was with her children. Three-year-old twins, they were at a stage where they were alternately adorable and infuriating, and she hated missing even a minute of their development. This had been a particularly topsy-turvy week, because she’d had to move her little family out of their home, as the landlord was doing some long-overdue repairs and painting. For the time being, they were living in quarters made available to TriTerraCorp employees, and the boys were having a little trouble getting used to it. Half of her mind was going over ideas of things she could do to make it up to her children, while the other half was listening to her new temporary boss.
“Don’t you agree?” he asked her suddenly.
Startled, she looked up and met his steely gaze. She had no idea what he’d asked her to agree to. He’d made her feel foolish again, and he’d done it on purpose. Her chin rose. “I never contradict the boss,” she said crisply, giving him a look of pure challenge.
His nod seemed to acknowledge that she’d gotten out of that one pretty well. Just as she settled back, pleased with herself, someone opened a door to the terrace and a sudden breeze swept through the room, scattering cups and papers. A napkin rose from the center of their table and Chareen reached to catch it. Michael reached for it at the same time, and somehow their hands met, fingers tangling. Electricity sizzled through her system and her gaze met his. The heat was sizzling through him, too. She could see the evidence in his eyes.
They both drew back as though they’d been burned and he quickly began talking again, going over the land that had been earmarked for the White Stones purchase, the various long-range uses of the property, the potential for the master-planned resort that was in the works. But her pulse was racing. She stared down at her latte and wondered if she was going crazy.
