Contract To Marry. Nicola Marsh

sipped at her recently filled flute and savoured the tingle of bubbles sliding down her throat. ‘You know, the F word that people are scared to acknowledge at work. Is your work fun?’

      ‘Work is work. If I wanted to have fun, I’d employ a bunch of clowns.’

      ‘Well, maybe that’s what you need to do.’

      He rubbed the bridge of his nose while she sipped at her champagne, as if what she’d said pained him. ‘Are you out of your mind?’

      She sat up, suddenly businesslike. ‘No, but I’d like to plant some ideas in yours.’

      She took a deep breath and hoped her new boss was ready to hear the truth. ‘OK, listen up. First impressions of your company are, quite frankly, that it’s tame, bland and boring. From the reception area to the furniture, I think you need a major overhaul. Urgently.’

      Rather than appearing angry, he leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. ‘So, you think I’m boring?’

      ‘I was referring to your company.’ For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out which demon prompted her to add, ‘I don’t know enough about you yet to make that sort of judgement call.’

      He ignored her jibe. ‘Tell me more.’

      ‘Most employees need to feel valued but, more importantly, they need to care enough about their job to want to excel at it.’ She paused to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, wondering if she had the courage to say exactly what she thought the problem was. ‘From first impressions, I don’t think your staff feel that way.’

      ‘Why?’ A frown creased his brow, adding five years onto his age and reinforcing what she was about to say.

      She took several unladylike gulps of champagne, needing every ounce of fortitude she could muster. ‘Bottom line? They’re taking their cue from you.’

      His frown deepened and she resisted the impulse to sink into her chair—or, better yet, slide under the table and slink out of the fancy restaurant. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

      She exhaled, unaware she’d been holding her breath. ‘Well, you seem to be a bit stuck yourself.’

      ‘Stuck?’ His eyebrows shot upward and, if she wasn’t treading on such delicate ground, she would’ve laughed at his comical expression.

      Crossing her fingers beneath the tablecloth, she continued and hoped to God she still had a job by the end of this. ‘You intimidate people. The way you look, the way you dress, how you carry yourself, all screams “unapproachable”. And if you don’t enjoy your work, how do you expect your staff to?’

      She waited for the explosion. Heck, she would’ve given him a verbal spray if he’d had the audacity to tell her all that to her face after only one meeting. Instead, he leaned back, folded his arms and fixed her with a glare.

      ‘I can see where that psychology degree comes in handy. Now that you’ve analysed me and the company, how do you propose to sort the problem out?’

      She quelled the nervous flutter within her gut. Whenever he looked at her like that, she couldn’t think straight. Something about the deep blue of his eyes had her focusing on all the wrong cues, starting with how she could lose herself in their depths.

      ‘That’s easy.’ She managed a smile, hoping it didn’t look more like a grimace. ‘We start at the top and work our way down.’

      ‘Now, that sounds like an interesting proposition.’ His eyes brightened with an almost imperceptible gleam which she recognised as interest and her heart thudded in response. For someone who appeared stuffy at first glance, he sure knew how to turn innocent words into innuendo.

      ‘I’d prefer to think of it as challenging. After all, you don’t strike me as the type of man who takes to change very well.’

      ‘I’m that easy to read, huh?’ He leaned forward, the simple act lending an immediate intimacy to the moment.

      ‘Call it intuition.’ She picked up the menu, needing to do something with her fiddling hands and distract her attention from his probing gaze.

      To her amazement, he reached across the table and plucked the menu from her hands. ‘Let’s finish this discussion before we order. What needs to be done to turn this situation around?’

      I need to run a thousand miles away from you and those damn eyes.

      Maybe taking this job hadn’t been such a good idea! Sure, she was desperate for business, not to mention that wonderful commodity that made the world go round, but was it worth feeling this flustered, this unsure of herself? She’d never lacked confidence, therefore this guy’s ability to undermine her with a single glance was more than disconcerting. It was downright frightening.

      ‘How about I present a business plan to you over the next few days and we take it from there?’

      ‘But you mentioned starting at the top. I assume you meant with me.’

      She nodded. ‘I have a few ideas but I’d like to interview some of your staff to get a general feel for the place before I present my plan. That’s how I usually work.’ A small white lie but she had no intention of letting him know this was her first real assignment. Besides, she’d honed her own business plan to the nth degree and knew she could handle anything her new boss had to dish out. Within reason.

      ‘Fine.’ He handed her the menu. ‘I look forward to hearing this master plan of yours.’

      She sighed in relief, though it was short-lived.

      ‘Just remember, Fleur. I’m expecting big things from you. And I don’t like to be let down.’

      ‘You don’t need to worry,’ she said, knowing that she’d be doing enough of that for the both of them.

      Darcy turned the key in the lock, surprised to find the front door to his house open. He could’ve sworn he’d locked it when he left earlier that evening. Maybe the thought of having dinner with Fleur had rattled him more than he’d anticipated?

      However, as he entered the house and heard the pounding bass reverberating through the hallway, he knew why the door was unlocked.

      He took the stairs two at a time, torn between wanting to hug his wayward brother and throttle him for being away so long. Sean’s bedroom door stood open, explaining the ear-splitting noise from some heavy-metal band Darcy had probably never heard of.

      ‘Hey, bro; long time, no see.’ Sean jumped up from the bed, piece of pizza in one hand and a beer in the other, a wide grin plastered across his face.

      Darcy turned down the volume before answering. ‘Is that what you call three years? A long time?’

      Sean’s smile slipped a notch. ‘Come on, man. Don’t be so…parental. Aren’t you glad to see me?’

      The familiar anger surged through Darcy’s body, rooting him to the spot. He’d raised Sean from the age of eleven yet the passing years hadn’t instilled maturity into his brother. Sean had never recognised the sacrifices Darcy had made in raising him, preferring to see him as some sort of ogre rather than a caring brother who’d been thrust into the role of parent at too young an age.

      If anything, Sean still lived the life of a carefree boy and it irked Darcy more than it should. Why should he be the one to always shoulder all the responsibility? Now that his brother was thirty years old, surely it was time he started acting like it?

      ‘Two phone calls in three years. Don’t you think I’ve earned the right to be concerned?’

      Sean shook his head and took a swig from his beer. ‘I can see you haven’t changed much.’

      ‘Neither have you.’ Darcy clenched his fists, surprised that the years away hadn’t matured his brother. He still spoke and behaved like a wayward teenager, from his smart mouth to his taste in music. ‘So, how long are you staying around this