The Illegitimate Heirs: Caleb, Nick & Hunter. Kathie DeNosky

      “Would you care to explain what you mean when you use the term family room?” she asked, rubbing at the sudden pounding in her temples.

      “I’m thinking couches, coffee tables and a bigscreen TV,” he said, looking thoughtful. “When our employees take their breaks, they should be able to relax and enjoy the few minutes they have away from the job.”

      “If you make it too comfortable, they’ll go to sleep,” A.J. said before she could stop herself.

      She hadn’t meant to be so blunt. But facts were facts and he might as well be aware of them right up front.

      He grinned. “Nothing wrong with a little power nap now and then. Studies have shown that it gives most people a second wind.”

      She’d seen the research and couldn’t argue with the findings, but that didn’t mean she agreed with them. “Are you wanting to know what I think of the idea?” she asked cautiously.

      “Not really.” He gave her a smile that warmed her all the way to her toes. “But I would like your help putting the project into action.”

      Her first inclination was to refuse his request. But to her amazement, she found herself asking, “What do you want me to do?”

      “I’d really appreciate your input on what colors and style of furniture to use.” His expression turned sheepish. “I’m not real up on this decorating stuff.”

      Oh, he was good. He knew just when to turn up the wattage on that smile and use his boyish charm to get exactly what he wanted. Fortunately, she was immune to such tactics.

      “What makes you think I’m any better?”

      “I don’t.” He shrugged. “But I need a woman’s perspective. The room needs to be comfortable for both men and women. If I try to do it entirely on my own, it’ll end up looking like a sports bar.”

      “Why don’t you get Mrs. Wallace to help you?” A.J. hedged. “I’ve heard her say she never misses that television show where friends redecorate each other’s rooms.”

      “I have Geneva busy heading up another project,” he said, grinning.

      “You do?” Good Lord, what on earth had he charmed their stodgy sixty-year-old secretary into doing?

      “I’ve given her a five-thousand-dollar budget for uniforms and equipment and put her in charge of organizing our sports teams.”

      A.J. couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You’ve got to be joking.”

      “Nope.” His smile intensified. “Depending on the amount of interest among the employees, we’re going to have bowling and volleyball teams this winter and a softball team next summer.”

      “You do realize this consulting firm is comprised of accountants and financial analysts, don’t you?” She shook her head in disbelief. “That’s not exactly the material jocks are made of.”

      He shook his head. “I don’t care if we have winning teams. I’m more interested in creating an overall sense of unity among the employees.” Rising to his feet, he stretched and started walking toward the door to his office. “You’ve got the weekend to give some thought to what we can do to the break room, then we’ll go over your ideas next week.”

      As she watched him close the door behind himself, A.J. groaned. From the time she’d been old enough to understand, her father had preached the military mantra of structure and order. He’d said they were essential for a successful life. Captain John T. Merrick had believed it, had lived by it and had insisted that his daughter adhere to it. He’d even chosen the boarding school she’d attended after the death of her mother because of its strict code of conduct and rigid set of rules. And the one and only time she’d deviated from the path her father had set her on, she’d ended up in the middle of a humiliating workplace scandal.

      But she’d survived because that’s what her late father would have expected her to do. It had been extremely difficult, but she’d picked up the pieces of her shattered pride, became a born-again virgin and found her present job at Skerritt and Crowe. And she’d been—if not happy—content for the past five years.

      Unfortunately, it seemed that contentment had come to an end with the arrival of Caleb Walker. When he’d strolled into her office yesterday afternoon with his good-old-boy attitude and devastating good looks to announce he was taking over the firm, she felt as if she’d been tossed into a vortex. He represented everything in life she’d been taught to approach with caution, if not avoid altogether. He was innovative in the way he approached management and his ideas were unorthodox and, unless she’d missed her guess, for the most part spontaneous.

      So why did her pulse pound and air feel as if it were in short supply whenever they were in the same room? Why did his sexy Southern drawl send sparks of electric current over every nerve in her body? And why did the sight of his wide shoulders and slender hips cause her body to hum with a restlessness like she’d never known before?

      Biting her lower lip to stop its trembling, she hastily reopened the computer file containing her résumé. There was absolutely no question about the matter. She had to find another job as soon as possible or risk losing what little sense she had left.

      The following Tuesday afternoon, Caleb sat at his desk, wondering what on God’s green earth Emerald Larson had gotten him into. He didn’t have the vaguest idea of how he was supposed to deal with one of Sker-ritt and Crowe’s best clients. His night classes at the University of New Mexico weren’t scheduled to start until the end of next month. He somehow doubted the business administration courses he’d signed up for would start out covering the interaction with clientele, anyway.

      He drummed his fingertips on the desk’s polished surface. He hadn’t been able to find anything on conducting meetings with clients in the management manual, either. The damned thing only covered supervising employees and ways to improve their work environment. It was completely useless for learning how to deal with clients.

      But whether Caleb knew what he was doing or not, it didn’t change the fact that Raul Ortiz wanted to meet with him. Caleb had taken over running the financial consulting firm that had helped Ortiz Industries create one of the best employee investment plans in the state, and he suspected that Ortiz wanted to make sure Caleb passed muster.

      When he heard A.J.’s voice through the door connecting their offices, Caleb’s spirits lifted. The woman might be driving him crazy trying to figure out what made her tick, but he’d read her personnel file. She really knew her stuff when it came to financial planning and marketing analysis. He’d also discovered that she’d graduated from high school at the age of fifteen and had acquired her master’s degree in investment banking and business administration by the time she was twenty.

      If he took her with him when he drove down to Roswell, surely the meeting with Ortiz would work out. He was good with people and A.J. was a whiz at any-thing to do with accounting and financial planning. Together they should make a hell of a team.

      Caleb took a deep breath and rose to his feet. He hated feeling inadequate at anything. But he had decided up front that he was going to have to rely on the people working for him until he took courses and got a basic understanding of the business Emerald had given him. It looked as though that reliance was going to have to start sooner than later.

      Opening the door between their offices, he smiled when A.J. glanced at him over the top of her computer screen. “I just got a call from a man down in Roswell,” he said, walking over to slump into the chair in front of her desk. “He claims to be our most satisfied client.”

      “That would be Mr. Ortiz,” she answered, nodding. “He’s one of our most valued patrons.”

      “That’s what he said.” Caleb chuckled. “I get the idea he’s also one of our most outspoken clients.”

      “I’ve never known him to mince words,” she said, pushing her glasses up her pert little nose. The action drew attention