Acquiring Mr. Right. Laurie Paige

      She put the car key in the ignition. “I don’t play games,” she said coldly.

      “Sorry. Truly,” he added at the dismissive glance. “I’m serious. You’re a valuable asset to the company, but I’m not sure yet just what the new job titles will be. For now, you’re still the CFO. So, will you come aboard?”

      He found himself anxious for her reply. He was banking on her already considerable investment of time and energy in the company, and also her curiosity about him and the future, to convince her to stay. He knew the moment she decided in his favor by the slight smile that curved her lips, displaying two barely discernible dimples in her cheeks.

      “Yes. I will.” She held out a hand. “Six months…and then we’ll see,” she added.

      Electricity flowed up his arm as they shook on the agreement. Six months, he thought as he watched her drive off. A lot could happen in six months. A working team could be built. A company could be turned around. An attraction—any attraction—would have to be stamped out.

      Chapter Two

      Krista considered her wardrobe for several minutes on Monday morning before selecting black slacks, a blue cotton sweater and a matching bouclé jacket.

      She applied her makeup carefully and left her hair down, then pulled on ankle boots with one-and-a-half-inch heels. She was as ready as she’d ever be.

      Driving from her town house apartment complex to the office, she marveled that the day could look so normal. The sun was shining, no clouds marred the sky and the traffic flowed without any delays. To her mind, there should be thunder and lightning to herald the momentous event—the takeover of the company by a man who had no ties to the community, no motivation for its success except profit.

      Or maybe the change was momentous only to her, she mused sardonically.

      Memories of other changes in her life flooded into her mind. When she was nine, her mom and stepfather had divorced. On a snowy night that same winter he’d died in a car crash. Six months later her mom had gotten in the way of a stray bullet when one angry neighbor shot another and had also died. As a runaway from foster care, her tenth year had been a period of uncertainty, always looking over her shoulder, never knowing what was going to happen next and feeling that life was as tenuous as a cobweb.

      While she couldn’t exactly define the reasons, she felt somewhat like that now—unsure and anxious about the future.

      She was no longer that child, she grimly reminded herself as she pulled into the parking lot at the plant. No one could push her around. And no corporate raider was going to intimidate her.

      Nodding her head decisively, she parked in her usual place under the shade of the oak tree in the far back corner of the large lot and strode to the office.

      Upstairs, VIP Row was unusually quiet.

      When Krista entered the CFO office suite, her secretary was hanging up her jacket. “Good morning, Tiff.”

      Krista had inherited the secretary from the last CFO. After a rocky start, Tiffany Adams—late forties, divorced, one grown son—had transferred her loyalty to the new boss and now they worked together as a close-knit team.

      Tiff nodded toward the end office. “Something’s going on,” she said in a low, ominous manner.

      “I know.” Krista checked the wall clock. She had twenty minutes before the staff meeting. “I’m going to introduce the new owner to the managers this morning.”

      “New owner!” the other woman said in a shocked whisper.

      “Shh,” Krista warned, nodding toward the open door. “I’ll tell you all about it after the meeting.” She went into her office.

      Frowning, she realized she’d forgotten to lock her desk after the shock of meeting Lance Carrington yesterday. She gathered the financial reports, the cash flow estimates and projected earnings before exiting through the private door that connected the conference room to her office.

      The elegant meeting space with its carved walnut table and twelve executive chairs separated her suite from that of the chief executive’s. Coffee, she noted, was brewing in the silver urn on the credenza.

      She wondered if Thea, the CEO’s secretary, was in yet and if James had warned her of the pending changes. The woman was in her sixties and had worked there for more than forty years. Totally loyal to the big boss, she’d watched out for his interests like a pit bull.

      A light was on inside the end office and Krista could see the outline of a person moving about in there through the frosted glass of the adjoining door.

      She stopped in the act of placing copies of her reports at each manager’s seat and stared at the masculine figure who seemed to alternate between pacing and staring out the windows at the scenery.

      Was Carrington…Lance, she corrected…nervous about the meeting?

      Hmm, she couldn’t picture that. He was hard-edged and confident. Besides, he held all the winning cards in this venture, whatever it was to him.

      While she was still staring at the indistinct figure through the glass, the door swung inward. He filled the opening like the hero in a movie close-up, backlit by the windows behind him and appearing bigger than life.

      “Good morning,” he said, coming into the conference room and closing the door.

      The odd impressions—that of him being nervous or being a super screen hero—fled. He was once more just a man, handsome and dynamic, yes, but not overpowering.

      Well, not totally overpowering.

      “Good morning.” She finished her task, then hesitated, not sure where she should sit.

      “Here’s where you sit,” Lance said, as if reading her mind. He pulled out the chair at one end of the table.

      That was Mason’s place, when he deigned to be present, but she didn’t say anything. She supposed, like his father, he was now out of the company.

      Lance pulled the chair back for her as she approached. Closer to him, she became aware of him in a whole new way.

      In fact, her senses seemed keenly in tune today. First of all, he smelled really, really good. Visually, he looked cosmopolitan in a suit of medium gray with a thin navy blue stripe, a navy shirt and a silk tie of silvery gray. Looking at him almost made her dizzy. It was the oddest sensation.

      Frowning at the reaction, she quickly placed her folders on the table and went to the coffee urn. He followed right behind her.

      Ignoring the pastries on a silver server, she filled a china cup and returned to her seat.

      The new boss also rejected the rich Danish rolls and muffins. Taking his cup, he sat at the opposite end of the table. “Nice day,” he said.

      “Yes. The sunshine is…nice.” At that brilliant start, she almost groaned aloud.

      Glancing down the shining length of the conference table, she detected a gleam in his eyes. A smile swept over his face, changing him from the serious tycoon to a coconspirator in an intrigue still to be played out.

      His eyes no longer seemed wintry to her as they had yesterday. Instead they were cordial.

      Inviting.

      Intimate.

      The warmth in those depths reached inside her, making her aware of things she hadn’t considered in a long time…a sense of security, the way she’d felt as a teenager growing up in Uncle Jeff’s home. And something more…

      She shook her head to rid herself of the new sensation. While James had listened when she explained the financial situation, he had been impatient with her ideas for change. Maybe this new CEO would think her suggestions brilliant and let her try some of them.

      The absurdity of that idea hit her. A corporate raider, who’d