A Bride For The Brooding Boss. Bella Bucannon

personal aspect here had shaken her composure, giving the impression she doubted her abilities. She’d show him. Tomorrow she’d be the perfect detached computer specialist.

      She selected stationery from the cupboard, skim-read the printed files, then spent ten minutes perusing the computer data prior to closing down. The few pertinent notes she’d written would save time in the morning.

      Carrying the audit reports, she tried the door leading to the corridor. Finding it locked, she went into Matt Dalton’s office. He was standing, sorting papers on his desk. His gaze was less than friendly to someone he’d hired to solve his problems.

      ‘I’ll copy these then I’ll be leaving. What time is the office open in the morning?’ Polite and stilted, following his lead. The fizz in her stomach could and would be controlled.

      ‘I’m here from seven. Do you need transport?’

      ‘I’ll sort that out.’

      ‘Good.’ He returned to his papers.

      She swung away, heat flooding her from head to feet at his dismissive action. All her fantasies came crashing down. Spoilt, rich, I-can-take-what-I-want teenager had become arrogant, treat-hired-staff-with-disdain boss. Was that why people had left without notice? She’d never wished bad karma on anyone, but she was coming close today!

      Long deep breaths as she went out helped to settle her stomach and stop the trembling of her hands.

      Before re-entering Mr Dalton’s office, printouts in hand, she reinforced her prime rule of contract work. Never, never, ever get involved. Someone always ended up heartbroken.

      Swearing the oath was easy. Sticking to it when confronted with those hypnotic blue eyes that invited her to confess her innermost secrets was tougher than she’d expected. Especially when his lips curled into a half-smile as he said goodbye.

      She stabbed at the ground-floor button, angry that she’d smiled back, dismayed that even his small polite gesture had weakened her resolve. The thrill of the chase ought to be in his computer files, not in dreaming of—She wouldn’t dream of anything. Especially not midnight-blue eyes, firm jaws or light touches that sent emotions into a frenzy.

       CHAPTER TWO

      MATT STARED AT the open doorway, perplexed by his reactions to a woman so unlike the outgoing, assured females he usually favoured. He raked his fingers through his hair. They were strangers, so why the censure in her alluring eyes when they’d met? It irked. It shouldn’t have affected his attitude but he knew he’d been less than welcoming.

      His finding her delicate perfume enchanting was also disconcerting. And she’d stiffened when he’d touched her. Had she felt the zing too? Please not. He had enough complications to deal with already.

      Would it make her job easier if she knew the whole story? Loath to reveal family secrets to outsiders, he’d tell her only if it became relevant to her succeeding. Despite his friend’s glowing report, he’d been less than impressed.

      Dalton Corporation was in trouble. His only choice was to trust her on the corporate level. He had little reason to trust her, or any other woman, personally. Especially as her manner said she’d judged him for some transgression made by someone else.

      Had she suffered the same indignity as he had? The soul-crushing realisation that you’d been used and played for a fool. The embarrassment of how close you’d come to committing to someone unworthy, incapable of fidelity or honesty.

      The dark-haired image that flared took him by surprise. Any affection he’d felt for Christine had died when she’d proved faithless. He hadn’t seen her since he’d walked out of her apartment for the last time after telling her the relationship was over, and why. He’d rarely thought of her either.

      They’d both spent nights in each other’s homes but he’d held back from inviting her to live with him. Looking back that should have been a red flag that he had misgivings. Thankfully he’d told no one of his plans to propose to her.

      Admitting he’d been stupid for assuming mutual friends and lifestyle expectations would be a good basis for a modern marriage hadn’t been easy. He wasn’t sure he’d ever consider that life-changing step again.

      God, he hated being here handling this mess. He’d hated even more being in London where people gave him sympathetic looks and wondered what had happened.

      Letting out a heartfelt oath, he banished both women from his mind. There were emails to read and respond to, and he’d promised his mother he’d be there for dinner. He grabbed his coffee mug, feeling the urgent necessity for another caffeine boost.

      * * *

      Nearly two hours later he pulled into the kerb outside his parents’ house, switching off the engine to give himself time to prepare for the evening ahead. He regretted the loss of unwavering respect for his parents, wished he’d never found out his father had been having affairs. He’d lost a small part of himself when he’d come home that evening nine years ago, and had never been able to obliterate what he overheard from his mind.

      ‘I suppose this one’s as gullible as the rest and believes she has a future with you. How many more, Marcus?’

      ‘Man wasn’t meant to be monogamous. If you want a divorce, be prepared to lower your standard of living.’

      ‘Why should I suffer for your indiscretions? I’m giving up nothing.’

      Somehow his mother’s acceptance of his father’s infidelities made her complicit. In disbelief he’d fled to his room, changed into a tracksuit and taken off, pounding the footpath trying to drive what he’d heard from his mind. His hero had fallen. He’d returned to a silent, dark house where, for him, nothing would ever be the same.

      He scowled, thumping the wheel with an open hand. He’d always been confident, sure of himself and his judgement of cheating and affairs. Now he felt remorse as his father had turned into a stranger who’d made drastic mistakes in the last eighteen months, sending Dalton Corporation on a downhill path.

      Pride dictated he fix those glitches and return the company to profit status, along with preserving its good name. Only then could he consider his own future, and for that he’d need a clear head. The only people he’d give consideration to would be family and his partners in London.

      He started the engine, and drove through the elaborate gates, grimacing as he entered the luxurious house. This was his father’s dream, a symbol of wealth and prestige, bought during Matt’s absence abroad. He hadn’t told his mother their financial status was in jeopardy. If Lauren Taylor was as good as her reputation, and he’d inherited any of his father’s entrepreneurial skills, he might never have to.

      * * *

      Adelaide had a different vibe from the city Lauren remembered. Not that she’d seen much of the metropolitan area when she’d lived here, or much of anywhere besides ovals and training grounds. Beaches in summer, of course—swimming and running on the sand were part of the family’s fitness regimen.

      As she’d strolled past modern or renovated buildings a window display advertising Barossa Valley wine triggered a light-bulb moment. The Valley, the Fleurieu Peninsula and the Adelaide Hills, plus many other tourist areas, were all within easy driving distance, and she’d been promised a two-week vacation as soon as the assignment ended. All she’d need were a map, a plan and a hire car.

      She picked up Chinese takeaway, and spent the evening poring over brochures and making notes. In full view from her window a group of young athletes were training in the parklands over the road. On the side-lines some adults watched and encouraged. Others sat on the grass with younger children, playing games or reading with them.

      Her eyes were drawn to a man sitting with a boy on his lap, their heads bent as small fingers traced words or pictures in a book. Her chest tightened and she crossed her arms in a self-hug.