Having the Boss's Babies. Barbara Hannay

      From: Alice Madigan

      Sent: 1 February 09:00

      To: Liam Conway

      Subject: Strictly business?

      Liam:

      I can’t believe that you are my new boss—I’m so embarrassed! Of course I promise to keep things strictly business from now on.

      Alice

      From: Liam Conway

      Sent: 1 February 09:02

      To: Alice Madigan

      Subject: The boss’s proposal…

      Hi Alice,

      Boardroom meeting in ten—just to formally introduce myself.

      How about dinner at eight?

      Liam

      BARBARA HANNAY

      was born in Sydney, educated in Brisbane and has spent most of her adult life living in tropical north Queensland, where she and her husband have raised four children. While she has enjoyed many happy times camping and canoeing in the bush, she also delights in an urban lifestyle—chamber music, contemporary dance, movies and dining out. An English teacher, she has always loved writing, and now, by having her stories published, she is living her most cherished fantasy. Visit www.barbarahannay.com.

      Having the Boss’s Babies

      Barbara Hannay

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      From city girl—to corporate wife!

      They’re working side by side, nine to five…. But no matter how hard these couples try to

       keep their relationships strictly professional, romance is undeniably on the agenda!

      But will a date in the office diary lead to an appointment at the altar?

      Find out in this exciting miniseries.

      Contents

       CHAPTER ONE

       CHAPTER TWO

       CHAPTER THREE

       CHAPTER FOUR

       CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

      CHAPTER ONE

      SHE was sitting alone at the bar with her back to him, so he wasn’t sure why she caught his attention. Perhaps it was because she seemed so different from the rest of the under-thirty-fives who packed the Hippo Bar for Friday-night cocktails. No laughter or mad flirting for her.

      She was staring at her empty cocktail glass, stirring what was left of the ice cubes with a tiny black straw, oblivious to the happy commotion going on all around her.

      Her clothes were different, too. No tight hipster jeans or bare midriff, no outrageous jewellery or spangly glitter.

      Her shiny dark hair was caught up in a simple knot and her dress, something dark and feminine with one shoulder bare, offered a clear view of the graceful line of her neck and shoulders. Her skirt wasn’t especially short but it managed to reveal rather shapely legs.

      He wanted to see her face; if it matched the rest of her it was, at the very least, elegant.

      And then, miraculously, she turned and his lungs compressed as if he’d free-dived to the bottom of the Coral Sea. She was quite, quite lovely.

      Her eyes were clear grey, her nose classic and her mouth lush. She’d dusted her eyelids with smoky hues and had drawn a fine black line to skim her lower lashes. The make-up gave her a dramatic, dusky allure.

      A disturbing fantasy flashed into living Technicolor in his head. He saw her in a different setting, somewhere remote, far away from this city, and she was leaning towards him, her dark eyelashes spiky and wet…her cheeks flushed, her pink lips softly parted…and her eyes were begging him to make love to her.

      He cursed softly at his foolishness and spun on his heel, eager to move on, to find a quieter, less crowded bar. But he made the fatal mistake of glancing back over his shoulder.

      And this time, he was touched more by her air of solitude than her beauty. Her gaze was fixed on a spot in the distance, and yet she was staring at it without interest, as if she was seeing something else, some inner turmoil.

      He recognised that look. He knew the loneliness hovering like a shadowing hawk behind her lovely eyes. There were many times he’d felt that.

      Tonight was one of them.

      Each year, this anniversary became more and more difficult and he’d chosen to fly north to Cairns a few days earlier than his business commitments required, simply to avoid spending this particular night in Sydney.

      He’d planned to spend the night alone—content to be a sightseer, wandering this sultry, tropical city at whim, hoping to blank out bad memories by renewing his acquaintance with the sights and sounds and smells of the far north. A solitary stranger in town.

      But now he’d seen the girl at the bar.

      And his plans had to change.

      Alice was trying to be brave.

      It wasn’t easy to sit alone in a bar on her thirtieth birthday. Alone, for heaven’s sake! She had a right to feel down. Seriously down.

      The annoying thing was that she had no one but herself to blame; she’d run away from her birthday party. Not the party her workmates had wanted to throw, but the family gathering her mother had insisted on arranging.

      Very early in the night, Aunt Bettina had voiced the family’s collective thoughts.

      ‘Poor Alice,’ she’d said, her voice choking, while her eyes became moons of sympathy. ‘Married before twenty and divorced before thirty. It’s a crying shame.’

      No one—repeat, no one—not a single member of the Madigan family had ever been divorced. Louisa, the family’s genealogy expert, had researched on the Internet, so she was certain of this.

      No one had been infertile either. And if the men in Alice’s family had ever indulged in extramarital affairs, their women kept very quiet about it. It was an unspoken family law that Madigan women hung on to their husbands.

      Alice