Hired: The Boss's Bride. Элли Блейк

stand a chance.

      It was barely a moment later that the guy glanced her way, laughed and tore up the sheet in his hand. Veronica took the torn-up pieces of paper, tucked them down her top, gave him a pat on the arm, jumped into her ridiculous car, revved the engine with enough va-va-voom every other retailer within spitting distance no doubt had their noses to the front windows of their shops and, with a flick of her riotous dark curls, off she zoomed.

      CHAPTER TWO

      ‘YOU coming, Mitch?’ Kristin asked.

      Mitch watched distractedly as Kristin felt around with her feet until she found her heels beneath the guest chair in his office and slipped them back on.

      He’d known a woman once who had made a habit of the exact same move; her eyes devouring the Sunday papers, her mouth focussed on downing the last of her tea, while her feet worked unconsciously beneath her chair preparing to whisk her off to the library for hours of research for the doctorate she’d never finished.

      ‘Mitch?’ Kristin said, and he slid back to the present.

      He rubbed a quick rough hand over his face as he asked, ‘Am I coming where exactly?’

      Kristin stood, hoisted her handbag over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. ‘To the welcome Veronica drinks. I’ve only mentioned it a thousand times over the past few days.’

      So she had. Enough that he hadn’t been able to go a day without thinking about his new employee. Wondering if she’d found a place to live. If she’d bought herself an outfit more appropriate for her new position or if she’d turned up to work at Hanover House in an array of tight trousers and suggestive T-shirts. If he’d done exactly the wrong thing in hiring her because she might be just radical enough to finally run the place into the ground all on her lonesome.

      ‘Come,’ Kristin begged when he didn’t instantly say his usual no. ‘Do. Everyone from the gallery will be there, as will a whole bunch from the office who overheard the words “Friday-night happy hour” and invited themselves. I’m sure it would do them all a load of good to see the Big Boss knows how to let his hair down too.’

      Mitch ran a quick hand over his short back and sides haircut, which had never been more than a centimetre longer than it was now, even while at university. ‘You go. I still have too much to do here,’ he said, even though Kristin held his life in her BlackBerry and knew exactly how up to date and organised he always was.

      ‘You could always ask Manda to come,’ she said, cocking a hip and not looking as if she was heading out his door anytime soon.

      ‘Could I, now?’

      ‘Mmm-hmm.’

      As if that weren’t enough reason for him to stay away. He and the accounts junior from Jefferson Corp two floors down had had three dates. One more and she’d start asking more of him than he was prepared to give. And he’d learnt three years and more blondes ago that three dates was exactly the precise cut-off point where they wouldn’t get hurt and he couldn’t get caught.

      ‘Unless this would make it date four, then you’d better stay away,’ Kristin said, tapping a finger against her lips as she counted back. ‘I’m thinking pale pink tulips to break it off with this one.’

      He slanted his eyes her way. ‘You’re a regular laugh riot, you are.’

      She grinned, and stood waiting in the doorway of his office. ‘So does that mean you’re coming?’

      He threw his fountain pen onto his desk and wondered exactly what Veronica Bing might choose to wear for Friday-night drinks if her interview outfit ran to knee-high boots and tight jeans. Somehow, compared with the lack of nutrition in his fridge at home and given the unusual empty space in his after-hours appointments diary, it seemed too interesting a prospect to miss.

      ‘You convinced me.’ He stood and grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair. ‘Though if anybody gets too drunk, I’m not going to be the one dropping them home. And don’t invite Manda.’

      ‘Deal,’ Kristin said, practically skipping as she led him out of the office.

      Veronica sipped a Bloody Mary as she watched Mitch Hanover smile and nod at a young, cute, skinny blonde draped all over him at the bar.

      He’d been true to his word. She hadn’t seen or heard from him once in the days since the interview. Which was a good thing, really, especially when she’d been reminded on a daily basis since why getting too friendly with the boss was a bad, bad thing.

      While finding an apartment that would accept a six-month lease, getting to know the Hanover House staff and frequenting the local hardware store to find some bargains for the changes she wanted to make to the gallery, she’d also had to deal with phone call after phone call from a bewildered Geoffrey, who as it turned out had taken her leaving far worse than she’d imagined he would.

      As it turned out he’d been about to offer her a key to his apartment. A key! Which wasn’t as petrifying as a ring, but still ridiculous considering they’d had two and a half dates in as many months. Ridiculous, but unfortunately not all that shocking.

      The great curse of her life was that the time she had spent looking after her sick mum had left a lasting impression upon her. A kind of Florence Nightingale tinge that she couldn’t seem to wash away. No matter how hard she tried to stifle it so that she could get on with becoming a successful, sought-after, self-confident businesswoman with space of her own, with a job that both broadened her limited horizons and absorbed her, her ambitions had again and again been smothered by men who missed all that and only saw a soft, mushy, empathetic shoulder to lean on.

      Explaining all that to Geoffrey had been pointless. There’d been tears, there’d been tantrums, there’d been the sound of ceramics smashing on the floor, and none of that had been from her end.

      A high-pitched giggle tugged her from her reverie and back to the long mahogany bar, glossy and shimmering with the reflected light of a half-dozen funky cone-shaped lamps above. Blondie was still there doing her all to show Mitch Hanover she could be soft, mushy and empathetic for him and much, much more.

      Blondie giggled loudly again and it screeched down Veronica’s nerves like fingernails down a blackboard. Mitch didn’t seem to mind in the least.

      Men…

      Today this man wore another dark suit, a different pale pinstriped shirt and an ever-so-slightly more frivolous tie—it was embroided. The tailored clothing made him look far too intense for her comfort, yet at the same time she still found him remarkably yummy.

      Especially when comparing him with the men of her recent acquaintance. Gold Coast men wore relaxed linen, bright ties, and none of them could remember the original colour of their teeth. Whereas Mitch Hanover was straight, intense, dark and self-contained. It was like comparing used-car salesmen with a Master of the Universe and she couldn’t deny she instinctively preferred the latter sort a heck of a lot more.

      Perhaps it was the fact that he didn’t look like the kind of guy who needed a shoulder to lean on. His shoulders seemed plenty broad enough to handle a whole world of troubles and then some.

      ‘He never comes,’ Kristin whispered into her ear.

      ‘Who never what?’ Veronica asked, dragging her eyes away quick smart for fear she’d been caught staring.

      ‘Our venerable boss,’ Kristin said. ‘He never comes to these social things.’

      ‘Never?’ Veronica asked, turning straight back to gaze his way now she had a good excuse to do so.

      ‘Not once,’ Kristin said while sipping at her mixed drink through a skinny pink straw. ‘This is a total first.’

      ‘Maybe he didn’t have plans tonight.’

      ‘Maybe. Though it looks to me as if he’s busy making them.’

      Veronica experienced a rapid tightness in her chest at the thought. It felt