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In Love With Her Boss
Christie Ridgway
Nice guys don’t always finish last…Lori Hanson came to Whitehorn to start over, not to fall head over heels in love with her boss! She knows better than to risk her heart—her life—on another man. Besides, Josh Anderson is too attractive, too nice and…too dangerous. Nice because he cares about her. Dangerous because he makes her want to care about him.Josh’s alluring receptionist has secrets and fears she can’t let go of, and all Josh wants is to hold her in his arms and make everything better. Okay, so that isn’t all he wants. Lori’s presence makes it all but impossible to work—except to count the ways to capture her heart!
Don’t miss this reader-favorite tale from USA TODAY bestselling author Christie Ridgway that proves nice guys don’t always finish last…
Lori Hanson has come to Whitehorn to start over—not to fall head over heels in love with her boss. For she knew better than to risk her heart—her life—on another man. Besides, Josh Anderson is too attractive, too kind…and too dangerous. Kind, because he cares about her. Dangerous, because he makes her want to care about him.
Josh’s alluring new receptionist has secrets and fears she can’t let go of, and all Josh wants is to hold her in his arms and make everything better. Okay, so that isn’t all he wants. Lori’s presence makes it all but impossible to work—except to count the ways to capture her heart…
Stories of family and romance beneath the Big Sky!
“Can’t believe a little thing like you could overturn me like that.”
Lori half smiled. “I’m stronger than I look.” That was her hope, anyway. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?” Her face heated again as their tangle replayed in her mind. The man probably thought she was certifiable for going into maul-the-mugger mode at the slightest contact.
Josh shook his head. “I’m fine. You might consider registering with the sheriff as a lethal weapon, though.”
Her eyebrows rose. “My hands, you mean?”
His eyebrows lifted, too, and another one of those slow smiles warmed his rugged face. “The whole package, sweetheart.”
In Love with Her Boss
Christie Ridgway
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CHRISTIE RIDGWAY
Native Californian Christie Ridgway started reading and writing romances in middle school. It wasn’t until she was the wife of her college sweetheart and the mother of two small sons that she submitted her work for publication. Many contemporary romances later, she is happiest when telling her stories despite the splash of kids in the pool, the mass of cups and plates in the kitchen and the many commitments she makes in the world beyond her desk.
Besides loving the men in her life and her dream-come-true job, she continues her longtime love affair with reading and is never without a stack of books. You can find out more about Christie at her website, www.christieridgway.com (http://www.christieridgway.com).
For Barbara Freethy, a great listener.
Thanks.
CONTENTS
Cover (#u1fbd4063-ff9b-58a6-8e08-aca27f85bd56)
Back Cover Text (#uef8fbdb2-6ba5-5960-96c5-4192522303e0)
Title Page (#u4c067c80-bdc2-5776-8265-eebebe7ee8c9)
About the Author (#u7580119c-239f-5cfc-bf61-4ec7a0da542b)
Dedication (#uf51fdff5-c3b8-5719-a24b-83be2c1119a8)
CHAPTER ONE (#ubfb9b62a-148f-5e74-911f-13ae9ae3b6ba)
CHAPTER TWO (#udc784d31-676d-53c6-adb3-cd21f11e54e0)
CHAPTER THREE (#u725383fb-4e5b-5e45-b20f-5e85059215e9)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ucef4dba6-0af5-5c41-a347-57792e25d0a6)
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)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_ef327c02-e281-5036-ae11-01e625abd42c)
The calendar read December twenty-fourth, but Lori Hanson wanted to forget all about Christmas. She wanted to forget a lot of things, truth to tell, which was why she was impatient to begin her workout at the state-of-the-art facility located at Whitehorn High School in Whitehorn, Montana. Standing in the small entry area, she clutched her gym bag in one hand and used the other to dig in her coat pocket for her membership card.
Card located, she stepped up to the desk, ignoring the Christmas carols piping cheerfully through the speakers, the red-and-green tinsel draped along the counter, the fuzzy Santa hat perched on the head of the high-school boy who was there to check her in. His winning smile was impossible to avoid, though. “Merry Christmas,” he said.
“You, too,” Lori murmured, hoping her Scrooge mood didn’t show. But Christmas was for families, something she didn’t have in Whitehorn…not yet.
The boy took her card and wrote her name down in a ledger book. “New member?” he asked.
“Yes, I sure am.” She’d only been in Whitehorn a week, but she’d joined the gym the day after finding her small apartment and hours after she’d gone shopping for a winter-in-Montana wardrobe and groceries. To Lori, working out had become a necessity on a par with shelter, clothing and food.
“Texas?” the high-schooler asked as he handed back her card.
Lori frowned. “Texas?”
“Your accent.” The boy grinned. “My mom loves to watch those Dallas reruns.”
“Oh. No. I’m from South Carolina.” But she was never going back there. She couldn’t.
“South Carolina.” His forehead scrunched in thought, he leaned back in his chair. “Capital city, Columbia, population approximately 4 million, major economic features are textile manufacturing, tourism and agriculture.”
At Lori’s clear surprise, he grinned again. “County geography champ last year.”
This time Lori had to grin back, because his big, open smile was that cute. When she was in high school she would certainly have fallen in love with a boy like this one. Then her smile faded. Those years were long gone, though, and when she had fallen in love it was with a man who had kept his true nature hidden. She shoved her card back in her pocket and turned toward the women’s locker room.
The boy wasn’t through with her, though. “Winter in Montana’s going to be a shock,” he advised.
She sent him a half-smile over her shoulder, but kept on walking. She’d been shocked before. She had come to Montana in winter to get away from all that. To make a new start.
The locker room was deserted. Probably most women were completing their last-minute Christmas shopping or putting the finishing touches on a big family meal. Lori stifled a sharp pang of loneliness and focused instead on shedding her heavy outer clothing and exchanging her winter boots for her running shoes. The sooner she started running, the sooner she could forget her troubles.
The weight room was nearly empty too, but on its other side there was a basketball game in progress on one of the courts surrounding the indoor running track. She paused, out of long habit cautiously surveying the men at play.
Though they were the right age, somewhere in their thirties, none of them had the lean, almost slight build of the man she was constantly on watch for. Thank God.
Relaxing, she continued watching for a minute. Goodness, the males grew big in Montana. The players on the court were all over six feet tall—one of them probably six and a half feet!—with heavy shoulders and broad chests to match.
In various examples of ragged workout wear, they sweated and grunted and thundered up and down the court, trading good-natured insults. Lori finally moved her gaze from them and walked onto the gray-surfaced track. Eager to begin, she had to force herself to stretch before running. Shoulders, hamstrings, calves: she methodically warmed them up.
A harsh shout from the basketball court caused her to flinch—raised voices still did that to her—but she made herself complete her final stretches. Then, only then, did she allow herself to start running.
Aaaah. It was almost a physical sigh that rippled through her mind as she began. A year ago, when she’d taken up running, it had merely been a part of an overall conditioning routine that she’d used to get control over her life. Self-defense classes, some weight training, the running, they were ways to gain confidence.
But the running had gained her something else, too. A runner’s high. The zone, as she described it to herself. It was a place where the past couldn’t find her and where she could calmly escape her present worries as well.
Even now, the murals painted on the walls of the gym began to blur. They were beautiful scenes of Montana, wildflowers, snow on the Crazy Mountains, elk on rugged plains, but as her pace increased their colors blurred. The mingled sounds of “Jingle Bells” and the thud of the basketball against wood receded too, and Lori’s mood lifted.
She was safe here. Safe in the zone. Safe in Montana. It was right to come back to her mother’s hometown. The day after Christmas she’d start her temporary job. And some days after that, she’d begin on the real task that had brought her here to Whitehorn.
Her speed picked up another notch, and she felt her long hair fluttering against the back of her neck. In South Carolina, she’d run outdoors, and even in the zone she’d run with one eye looking over her shoulder at all times. In Montana it was going to be different.
The hair at her temples dampened, though the breeze her own movement created dried the sweat on her face. She reveled in the pumping motion of her arms and legs, in her escalating mood, in—
A body bumped into Lori from behind. Impressions flashed through her mind.
Huge. Heavy breath. Grasping hands.
Panic speared her. Her feet skittered forward. Strong fingers bit into her arms. She was jerked upright, back.
Then survival instincts woke. A burst of adrenaline surged through her muscles. With desperate strength, she tried pulling free of her assailant. Both off-balance, their feet tangled. They pitched forward. Lori landed belly-down on the running surface, the man half on top of her.
Even with the breath knocked out of her, two years of self-defense classes exploded into action. No! Not this time! Lori’s mind screamed.
With a frantic twist, she heaved off his weight. Leverage on her side now, she threw herself over him, her forearm across his throat. Gulping one desperate breath, she tossed her hair out of her face and looked down into his eyes. Into the eyes of…
A stranger. A dark-eyed, dark-haired stranger.
Aghast, yet still half-afraid, Lori jumped up, then backed away from the massive form lying on the ground like a felled tree. Male laughter rang out, and she glanced around, bewildered. The basketball game had halted and the players were looking at her.
No, at him.
He was looking at her.
His face, all angles made up of strong cheekbones and a chiseled jaw, appeared rough-hewn, handsome, even when slightly dazed. His eyes were bittersweet-chocolate brown with long black lashes she’d have had to use two coats of mascara to achieve. He blinked, as if trying to clear his head.
Lori swallowed, a new kind of alarm zinging through her. “I’m so sorry. Are you…are you all right?”
He didn’t move. “Depends on if you’re asking me or my ego.”
She swallowed again. “What?”
He seemed to consider a moment. “Okay. The answer is, I’m fine, but the ego might need a good soak in the whirlpool.” His mouth lifted in the slowest, sweetest smile Lori had ever seen in her life. “Join me?” he asked.
She took a giant step back. “No.”
“But it’s Christmas.” His crestfallen expression made her feel as if she’d stolen the ribbon from around a teddy bear’s neck.
Then he rose to his feet, and she just felt afraid. The basketball player she’d attacked was the huge one she’d noticed earlier. He towered over her five feet eight inches and, as he came toward her, Lori found herself retreating farther.
Her heart slammed against her chest as he just kept coming. She scuttled back some more.
“Watch—” he started, reaching out.
Too late. Her feet tripped over a basketball. With resigned dismay, she realized she was falling again. His huge hand came nearer, as if to catch her, and by some miracle—fear over physics—she managed to regain her balance before he could touch her. She felt her face flush.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Lori couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so clumsy. “It depends on if you’re asking me or my ego.”
At her little joke, he smiled again, slow and big. “I’m Josh,” he said, bending to retrieve the ball.
“Lori,” she answered, moving back another step.
Catcalls from the court had him glancing over her head and he tossed the basketball toward his teammates. “I’m sorry, Lori. The first apology should have been mine. I was chasing after the ball and didn’t look where I was going.”
Her breathing could finally settle down, but, funny, it didn’t. “I’m sorry too. I…overreacted.”
He shrugged, his massive shoulders moving up and down. “Can’t believe a little thing like you could overturn me like that.”
She half smiled. “I’m stronger than I look.” That was her hope, anyway.
The other men were shouting at him from the court. Lori glanced over her shoulder. “I think they want you to rejoin the game. You’re sure you’re not hurt?” Her face heated again as their tangle replayed in her mind. The man probably thought she was certifiable for going into maul-the-mugger-mode at the slightest contact.
He shook his head. “I’m fine. You might considering registering with the sheriff as a lethal weapon, though.”
Her eyebrows rose. “My hands, you mean?”
