Bachelor Boss. Pamela Ingrahm

      “Still, I’ve thrust you straight into the lion’s den and didn’t even think about the time. Let me take you to dinner to make up for it.”

      “Oh, no, that’s not necessary—”

      “I insist. What do you like? Chinese? Mexican?”

      “I love Chinese, but—”

      Madalyn paused, sensing a challenge in his voice. Good heavens, hadn’t she proven already that she was a team player? A cold fear settled in her stomach, and she hoped she hadn’t misjudged Philip—she hoped he wasn’t the philandering type. But then, she’d misjudged before...

      “Philip, listen, I have to be up-front with you.” She took a deep breath, hoping she wasn’t about to put herself out of a job. “I’m not comfortable mixing business with social events. I appreciate the offer and all, but I’d rather not.”

      He looked surprised, but nodded graciously.

      “Very well, then. Why don’t you get out of here and salvage what’s left of your evening?”

      “I appreciate that. I’m close to being done, so I’d like to finish these letters so we can start fresh tomorrow. If that’s all right.”

      “That’s not necessary—”

      “Really, I’d rather. It shouldn’t take me but an hour or so. I’m on a roll. Unless I’m keeping you?”

      “Not at all. I appreciate the offer.”

      He retreated again into his office, and his phone line lit up almost immediately. It only served to heighten her image of Philip at his desk seven days a week. She didn’t need her insider info to know that he was a driven man; that was the first thing any article said about him. Now that she’d met him in person, his drive emanated from him in a palpable wave. She wondered for a moment just what she’d gotten herself into, and decided just as quickly that she’d work weekends without complaint, if he asked, for the experience this was going to provide her, and the security it would give her and Erin.

      She wasn’t sure what could have surprised her more, a mere forty-five minutes later, when the elevator door opened and a man came in bearing white plastic bags. The smells emanating from the bags made her stomach grumble, and she didn’t have to be able to read the red symbols on the outside of the bags to know a feast had just been delivered from Woo Duck Fong’s Chinese Emporium. Fong’s was her favorite restaurant in the whole world.

      Philip must have heard the commotion, for his door opened and he took care of the delivery guy with a minimum of fuss. She watched, amusement warring with concern.

      “Philip—”

      “Nope, no arguments. I’ve worked you like a slave driver on your birthday. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with my invitation, so I did the next best thing.”

      While he was speaking, he’d been pulling out little boxes and covered bowls. He moved files from her desk to the floor to make room.

      “You really shouldn’t have.”

      A smile transformed his face, making her heart turn over.

      Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe she should keep looking until she found a kind, toadfaced man who was at least five inches shorter than her to work for. Anyone but a tall, dark man with a smile that could light up entire rooms at a time.

      Madalyn didn’t want to admit how nervous his proximity made her, and she tried to tell herself it was because he was her new boss, not because he was so devastatingly handsome. It was nearly eight o’clock at night and the man’s suit looked as fresh and crisp as if he’d just put it on. She, on the other hand, felt rumpled and wrinkled, which was not unexpected after the day she’d had. Her suit jacket was hanging on the back of her chair and now she wished she hadn’t taken it off.

      Giving herself a stern mental rap on the knuckles, she told herself to be gracious, eat the food that was making her mouth water and then get home.

      “Thank you for the dinner. It smells great. But how did you know Fong’s is my favorite?”

      “Isn’t it everybody’s?” he asked, his expression teasing. “The truth is, I had no idea, but you said you loved Chinese, and this is the best food this side of Hong Kong, so it made sense to me....”

      Somehow she knew he wasn’t speaking metaphorically. He’d probably been to Hong Kong a dozen times and knew exactly who served the best Chinese food this side of the Pacific.

      Philip pulled one of the guest chairs closer to the desk and settled back with a carton of beef and broccoli.

      “So tell me about yourself, your family.” He grimaced and waved his chopsticks in the air. “Wait! Forget I asked that. My attorney said he’d have my head if I asked any personal questions of my employees.”

      She had to smile at his obvious disgust. “I take it you’ve been thoroughly warned about avoiding discrimination lawsuits.”

      Stabbing a bright green broccoli flower, he chomped it with a satisfied sigh before nodding. “Sometimes I think we’ve just about gone over the edge with political correctness. I hate having to guard every word I say.”

      Madalyn tilted her head to the side. “I’m surprised With your business reputation, I’d think you’d be well-tuned to this stuff.”

      “This stuff, as you put it, is taking all the fun out of business.”

      “Well, don’t worry. You didn’t offend me, and I promise not to sue.”

      He returned her smile and leaned forward, reaching for a packet of soy sauce. “Good. So tell me about yourself, Madalyn Wier.”

      “What would you like to know?”

      “Everything. Start with the usual, like where you’re from, and we’ll go from there.”

      Other than perfunctory information, she hardly expected true interest from him. After a few unimportant details, undoubtedly he’d carry the conversation. Which was fine with her, since he’d been a source of fascination for her for a long time. She wanted to know everything about him, and to have the ball in her court was slightly disconcerting.

      “I was raised in a little town called Asulta, Louisiana.”

      “I’ve never heard of it.”

      She laughed. “Of course you haven’t! It’s a tiny little town, meriting a mere pinprick on a Rand-McNally map. We’re far off the beaten path and miles from the nearest highway, so the only industry in our town is a couple of garment factories. Everyone worked for one or the other, except for the few folks like my father who worked for the school system.”

      “What did he do?”

      “He was a janitor until he died when I was eight”

      “I’m sorry.”

      “Sorry that he was a janitor or sorry he died?”

      His lips curved in an answer to her cheeky question. When he smiled, his face was transformed from godlike perfection to a boyish charm that captivated her. It took yet another stern mental warning to remind her that she didn’t need to be captivated by her new boss—even if he was just a temporary boss.

      “I’m sorry that you lost your father,” he clarified with definite sincerity in his voice, despite his teasing smile. “I lost my father when I was in college, and that was hard enough. I can’t imagine being as young as eight.”

      “It was rough,” she admitted without rancor. “I was a late-life surprise for my parents, so I have to confess I was fairly doted on.”

      His expression turned slightly ironic. “I can see we had vastly different childhoods.”

      “I’ll say,” she said with a laugh. “I’d never even seen a tennis court, except on television, until I