The Boss's Special Delivery. Raye Morgan

      “Do you do this often?”

      “Meet men by swooning into their arms?” Annie asked, struggling for normalcy. “No, as a matter of fact, you’re my first.”

      He gave her an assessing look. “You’re pregnant.”

      He said it calmly, but to her it sounded like an accusation, and she bristled. As an unwed mother-to-be, she bristled a lot lately.

      “Really?”

      The stranger looked up at her for the first time, really seemed to look into her eyes and see who she was. Annie didn’t think she’d ever seen bluer eyes.

      But there was more. He had the look of a man who did and said whatever occurred to him. Everything in her wanted to like him. He looked…well, nice. And that was even more dangerous than his undeniable sex appeal. The way he took charge so naturally. The way he was poised, down on one knee before her, like a knight asking a lady for her scarf to wear into battle.

      The Boss’s Special Delivery

      Raye Morgan

      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

      Epilogue

      Chapter One

      Annie Torres was going to faint. The signs were all there. Staring hard at her order pad, she tried to fight the feeling.

      Just give me one more minute, she begged silently. Just let me get into the break room.

      “Oh, wait,” her customer was saying. “I think I want a side of fries with that. And can I get a serving of blue cheese dressing to go with the fries?”

      The room was starting to turn, very slowly, but it was turning. She felt clammy. It was only a matter of seconds. Flipping her book closed, she started to step away, desperate to get to the break room.

      “Miss? Wait a minute. I forgot about dessert. Do you have any of that great fresh peach pie today?”

      It sounded like the woman was talking to her from the end of a tunnel. The words were echoing in her head and something was pounding in her ears. She had to get out of there. She tried to turn back, but it was too late. She was wilting like a rose in the hot summer sun. It was all over.

      “Hey.”

      She opened her eyes. There were faces all around, staring down at her. Something in her wanted to laugh. They looked so funny. Then she realized she was lying on the floor of Millie’s Café and it didn’t seem so funny any longer.

      Each face had a mouth and each mouth was moving but she couldn’t tell what they were saying. She closed her eyes, wishing they would all go away and leave her alone. Her head was throbbing.

      “I’ll handle this.”

      Finally a deep, masculine voice stood out from the babble and she felt cool, strong hands probing for injuries and testing her reactions.

      “Does anything hurt?” he asked her.

      She shook her head and regretted it, because her head hurt like crazy. But it wasn’t from hitting the floor, it was just a headache.

      “Sorry,” she muttered, trying to get up. “I’d better get back to work.”

      “Not likely.” Suddenly she was being swung up into the arms of what had to be a fairly strong man.

      “Hey,” she said weakly, pushing back and trying to look up into his face.

      “Just relax, honey,” he said in a soothing voice. “I’ve got you.”

      “But I don’t need getting,” she protested, pushing ineffectively against his shoulder with her hands.

      “Don’t try to talk,” he told her as he carried her through the crowded café. “You’re obviously delirious.”

      He said it with a touch of humor, so she didn’t take it seriously. He was probably trying to put her at ease about the situation. That wasn’t necessary, because she didn’t need his help. Much.

      Though she had to admit, it felt so good to have such strong arms holding her. They were protective. Safe. And from what she could feel of him, pretty darn sexy. Which was exactly why she had to resist. If he would just put her down and let her get oriented…

      But at least he knew where to take her. In just seconds she was in the break room and he was lowering her to the couch.

      “Thank you, ladies,” he said as someone handed him a damp cloth and a cup of water. “Just give us some room, please. Let me give her a quick examination. She’ll be good as new in no time.”

      Bossy guy. As far as she was concerned, he could take that take-charge attitude and—

      “Okay, Doctor,” someone was saying.

      Actually, it might have been Millie. Annie’s eyes were closed and it was just too hard right now to open them and take a look. But if Millie was giving him permission to handle this, maybe she could relax a little. Millie was her boss, the owner of the café, and a thoroughly decent woman. Annie had come to realize lately that thoroughly decent people were hard to find and worth their weight in gold once discovered.

      And he was a doctor, anyway. She relaxed a little more. She was more disposed to trust a doctor than she was to trust most men. After all, there was that Hippocratic oath thing.

      “Just give a holler if you need anything,” Millie added.

      “Will do.”

      Annie finally got her eyes back open in time to see Millie leaving, and the very large man staying. As he continued to hover over her, he murmured something that made the others melt away. She appreciated that he’d dismissed the audience, because she’d had about enough of being the center of attention for a while.

      Still, that meant she was alone with this man. Needing to reassert a little control of the situation, she pulled up to sit rather than staying down where he’d put her.

      He didn’t object. Instead, he put the cool cloth to her forehead, gave her a sip of water and then began taking her pulse. And finally her head cleared enough so that she could see straight again.

      She looked him over, still groggy, head aching. Not bad, actually. He was handsome in a rugged, outdoorsy way—his thick hair dark and windblown looking, as though he’d just come in from chopping wood or chasing bears or something, and his eyes incredibly blue against his tanned skin. He looked familiar. She’d seen him in here at Millie’s before. And she was pretty sure she’d seen him in years past. But it had only been a month since she’d come back to the Texas town of Chivaree and her ten or so years away had dimmed a lot of memories.

      “How are you feeling?” he asked, studying her in a detached, clinical sort of way.

      “Woozy.”