Bachelor Boss. Christie Ridgway

      

      Lucy was like a little sister to him…except she wasn’t.

      Lucy was just a kid…except she wasn’t any more. Lucy didn’t want him to kiss her… except she was swaying towards him, and her gaze was fixed on his mouth as if she were willing it to come closer to hers.

      Carlo found himself moving nearer.

      Was he really this weak? Apparently he was. Or the attraction was just that strong.

      Now was the last chance to dredge up his common sense, to gather his brain cells together, to do something rather than give in.

      Lucy swallowed again. “What would it take for me to get a bite of that pie?”

      His laugh was low. “I’m sure we can think of something.”

      She didn’t move as he took the fork out of her unresisting hand and set it on the table. She didn’t blink as he drew her against him. And she didn’t make a sound as he finally succumbed to temptation and lowered his mouth to taste hers.

       CHRISTIE RIDGWAY

      is a native Californian and a born romantic. Her babysitting money was all spent on red licorice and romance novels, which makes it all the sweeter to now be writing love stories herself!

      A USA TODAY bestselling author, she lives in Southern California with her three heroes – her husband and two sons. Visit her website at www.christieridgway.com.

      Bachelor Boss

      Christie Ridgway

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      To all the little sisters out there who were never

       taken as seriously as they should have been – not that I know anything about that!

       Chapter One

      Lucy Sutton disliked first days.

      Standing before the half-open door leading to her new boss’s office, Lucy admitted to herself that in truth she hated first days. As family legend had it, she’d hidden at the back of her closet on the first day of kindergarten. While that wasn’t clear in her memory, she could recall in vivid detail the first day of high school, the way the tag on her new shirt scratched the back of her neck, how she’d scratched at her nerve-induced hives. The worst, however, was the first day of a new job. Without a mother’s hand to hold or a gaggle of girlfriends with whom to get through the hours, that initial eight-to-five at a new place of employment could be excruciating.

      Which didn’t help explain why Lucy had put herself through quite a few of those new days since graduating from college with an accounting degree three years before.

      Swallowing to ease her dry mouth, she reminded herself that despite how her employers had liked her and her work, each of those three number-crunching jobs had not been quite right for her. Still, she knew that more than one of her relatives thought it was Lucy who wasn’t right for successful employment. That was family legend, too, that Lucy, nicknamed “Lucy Goosey” thanks to one of her ultraperfect elder siblings, was just too flighty and too fluffy to take anything seriously—or to be taken seriously by anyone.

      Worst of all, though, was how legends like those had an uncomfortable way of becoming fact.

      “Not that legend,” Lucy murmured to herself, steeling her spine and scratching at a rising bump on her left wrist. “This time I’m going to show every other Sutton that I’m as capable as they are.” This job would be different.

      Even though it was only temporary secretarial work, she’d stick with it and succeed. Then she’d move on to finding the very best place for herself and her accounting skills. The right position was out there and this was her stepping stone to it.

      Her gaze slid over to the nameplate on the wall beside her new boss’s office door. Carlo Milano. She had something to prove regarding him, too.

      Specifically, that she was over him.

      Taking a deep breath, she rapped gently on the grained wood.

      “Come in,” a man’s voice called out.

      Lucy found herself hesitating, and instead of moving forward she thought back to the last time she’d seen Carlo. It had been at a big do a couple of years before at her sister, Elise’s, home. He’d been making one of his rare appearances, leaning his rangy, six-foot-two body against a wall in a corner of the kitchen, dressed casually in jeans and a button-down shirt. Yet he’d looked anything but casual, his incredible face serious and leaner than ever, as if any soft and approachable thing about him had been pared away.

      Pared away by heartaches she knew he wouldn’t speak of.

      Oh, she’d attempted to lighten his mood that night. Nobody ever said Lucy wasn’t one to bring fun to a party. But after trying to get a laugh—she would have settled for a smile!—out of him with an amusing story about an old roommate, Carlo had merely shaken his head.

      “Goose,” he’d said gently—yes, he’d actually called her Goose—“Use your pretty smiles and your charming wiles on someone who’ll appreciate them.”

      Then Carlo had drawn his knuckle down the side of her suddenly heating cheek. In response, and on impulse—another of her weaknesses according to family lore—Lucy had risen to tiptoe and tried one last thing to give Carlo a little jolt of life by brushing her mouth against his.

      Seven hundred and thirty-four nights had passed since then, and her lips still burned at the memory.

      Her pride still smoldered around the edges, too—because within seconds Carlo had pushed her away and left his corner…never to be seen by her again.

      Until now.

      “I said ‘come in.’” Carlo’s almost impatient-sounding voice interrupted her reverie.

      Showtime, she thought, and with one last stroke of right-hand fingernails against her itchy left wrist, Lucy walked into the office.

      Her breath caught.

      Carlo’s massive desk stood in front of her, the leather chair behind it empty, but the wall behind that—ah, that was really something, a whole expanse of glass that revealed a spectacular view of San Diego Bay. It looked like a huge, ten-by-twenty-foot postcard, in which Crayola sky-blue met grayer-blue waters dotted with sailboats and motorboats and yachts. The watercrafts’ movement created frothy, egg-white trails across the Pacific’s surface and was the only proof they were actually moving and not just part of a lifelike painting titled Stupendous Southern California.

      It was a multimillion-dollar view that made clear to Lucy that Carlo Milano, longtime family friend and former cop, had struck gold in his high-priced and highly regarded events security business. Obviously he was busy enough to need her to fill in for his secretary for the next three weeks. The man who was her new—albeit temporary—boss had done well for himself.

      But where was the man who was now her boss?

      From the corner of her eye she caught movement at the far end of the room, beyond a spacious seating area that included a love seat, coffee table, two chairs and a built-in bar. A man in a dark jacket was standing there, his back half-turned to Lucy, his attention on a woman in an exquisite, powder-blue suit with matching sling backs. Shiny, pin-straight hair fell in a bright chestnut waterfall toward her waist.

      The nape of Lucy’s neck burned and new hives popped out on her arms. Her hand reached up to finger the ends of her own wheat-colored, wavy hair. In her beige heels, khaki skirt and plain white blouse, she’d never felt so, well…washed-out.