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The Playboy's Protegee
Michele Dunaway
Cats And Dogs, Oil And Water… Harry And MeganTricked! This time Harry Sanders's matchmaking grandfather had gone too far. Assigning Harry to be a mentor in the family company was bad enough–but the old coot had paired Harry with his nemesis, the one woman guaranteed to blow the cagey playboy's cool. Megan MacGregor's know-itall attitude made him see red even as the hint of white lace beneath her boring blazer drove him wild. Megan was smug, starchy…and sexy enough to steal a man's soul.Harry had to play up his bad-boy bachelor image. Because nothing seemed to annoy Megan more. And if they ever stopped arguing and started kissing, Harry just might propose a merger of the most dangerous, permanent kind…



“You want me to refuse to be your mentor. Not going to happen.”
Megan’s mouth dropped open. “What!”
Harry arched an eyebrow. “Did I stutter? It’s not going to happen. You shouldn’t have messed with me when you first came to work here.”
She gestured wildly. “Are you insane? We can’t stand each other! You’ve done nothing but pick apart my performance since I got here. Let me have a different mentor.”
Megan drew a deep breath as if trying to calm herself. Her suit jacket gaped open. She was wearing white lace. Harry’s throat went dry, and his words simply disappeared.
“No.”
The Playboy’s Protégée
Michele Dunaway


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For Uncle Bizz (’cos it already is)

AUTHOR’S NOTE
In the story, Megan’s mother suffers from multiple sclerosis (MS). My cousin Stacey lives daily with MS, and she was an invaluable source of information. Any errors in the story are mine. For more information about this disease, contact The National Multiple Sclerosis Society, 733 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017. www.nmss.org.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
In first grade Michele Dunaway knew she wanted to be a teacher when she grew up, and by second grade she wanted to be an author. By third grade she was determined to be both. Born and raised in a west county suburb of St. Louis, Michele recently moved to five acres in the rolling hills of Labadie. She’s traveled extensively, with the cities and places she visits often becoming settings for her stories.
Michele currently teaches high school English, raises her two young daughters and describes herself as a woman who does too much but doesn’t want to stop.
Michele loves to hear from readers. You can visit her Web site at www.micheledunaway.com (http://www.micheledunaway.com) or write to her at P.O. Box 45, Labadie, MO 63055.

Books by Michele Dunaway
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
848—A LITTLE OFFICE ROMANCE
900—TAMING THE TABLOID HEIRESS
921—THE SIMPLY SCANDALOUS PRINCESS
931—CATCHING THE CORPORATE PLAYBOY
963—SWEEPING THE BRIDE AWAY
988—THE PLAYBOY’S PROTÉGÉE
Jacobsen Stars Program: Corporate Strategy for Future Marital Team as Created by Grandpa Joe
The Key Players:
Megan MacGregor: Ambitious businesswoman, excellent mind, easy on the eyes. Perfect for Harry.
Harry Sanders: My ornery grandson who needs a swift kick (but most of all, a good wife).
Strategy:
Make them work together as a team, thereby encouraging opportunities for covert mingling, which will lead to marriage and happiness.
Obstacle to Strategy:
Megan and Harry hate each other.
Way around Obstacle:
Lock them in a hotel suite together, with all the usual amenities, i.e., champagne, strawberries, chocolate and terry-cloth bathrobes.
Motto:
Grandpa Joe will pave the way for Harry and Megan’s happy day!

Contents
Prologue (#u09c333bc-6f31-5e36-9123-19a321aef3bb)
Chapter One (#ue3a7b230-8955-5e80-a53e-c0f5ee2bd320)
Chapter Two (#uf390f2ca-7a79-5133-9db7-802e4c287590)
Chapter Three (#uca39cb2b-f436-56f7-ba97-ba02e4ae4449)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Prologue
Jacobsen Enterprises Internal Memo
From: Joe Jacobsen, CEO
To: Harry Sanders
CC: Andrew Sanders, president
Re: Jacobsen Stars Program
Harry,
I just wanted to give you a heads up on the newest Jacobsen Enterprises program to recruit and retain upper-level management.
With your sister now in New York for the past year, it is imperative for the overall growth and stability of the firm that we keep any management talent we develop. My proposal will be instituted in two weeks, and a copy is attached. I would like you to personally consider being a mentor. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to contact me.
J.J.
Jacobsen Enterprises Internal Memo
From: Joe Jacobsen, CEO
To: Andrew Sanders, president
Re: Harry/Jacobsen Stars
As you can see from my previous memo, I have informed your son about the Jacobsen Stars program and have indicated that I would like him to be a mentor.
My personal choice for him to mentor is Megan MacGregor. I will drop in on him Monday morning to tell him. She’s in Mergers and Acquisitions.
J.J.
Jacobsen Enterprises Internal Memo
From: Andrew Sanders, president
To: Joe Jacobsen, CEO
Re: Harry/Jacobsen Stars
You old coot. The only merger you really want is for your grandson to get married. But setting up Harry with Megan MacGregor? She’ll eat him alive. Don’t you ever stop matchmaking?
A.S.
Jacobsen Enterprises Internal Memo
From: Joe Jacobsen, CEO
To: Andrew Sanders, president
Re: Harry/Jacobsen Stars
No.
J.J.

Chapter One
Even though it was a Monday, it had all the makings of a wonderful day. As the only person in the executive elevator, Harry Sanders whistled the entire journey to his office on the twenty-second floor of the Jacobsen Enterprises world headquarters.
“You’re chipper this morning,” Peggy, his secretary for the past five years, commented as he strode over the plush carpet. Ten minutes before 9:00 a.m., she had already sorted his memos and mail.
“Absolutely,” Harry said taking the stack of papers without stopping to look through them as he usually did.
He registered Peggy’s words as he entered his office, “There’s one from your grandfather.”
There had better be. Harry smiled as he entered his corner office, and he took a minute to look out the window. Even though it was a beautiful May day, his office faced west and south, giving him a boring view of Highway 40 as it wound toward Jefferson Avenue.
The eastern-facing offices of the Jacobsen Building looked down Market Street, the view encompassing Memorial Plaza, Union Station, the Mississippi riverfront, the Old Courthouse and the Gateway Arch.
No, his office view was not quite the best, or even on the top floor, that was the twenty-fifth floor, but all that was about to change.
And it was about time.
He pushed a strand of blond hair off his face. He’d been waiting for the past two years, and with Darci happily out of the way, it was finally Harry’s time to shine.
He took a minute to think about that. Don’t get him wrong, he loved his academically brilliant sister with the Harvard MBA. However, three years his junior, Darci had held a higher title and position in Jacobsen Enterprises before her resignation and subsequent move to New York City to be with Cameron O’Brien, her now-husband of one year.
Darci’s fast rise through the company still rankled Harry, that and the fact that after she’d resigned, he hadn’t been promoted into her spot. But given his grandfather’s eccentricities and obvious favoritism toward his granddaughters, no one had been too surprised to see Darci’s job left unfilled. The vice president of development position she’d held had just sort of faded away.
“Good, you’re here early.” Speaking of the devil. The voice that startled Harry from his reverie belonged to none other than Joe Jacobsen, and Harry turned to see his grandfather standing in the office doorway.
“I’m always on time,” Harry replied. It was the truth. One thing Harry managed was timeliness.
Standing there looking like a thin version of Santa Claus, Grandpa Joe didn’t even blink at Harry’s answer. Even though the blue-eyed gene was recessive, every Jacobsen grandchild, including Harry, had the same blue eyes with a rim of dark blue that their grandfather had.
“Didn’t say you were late. I know your schedule,” Grandpa Joe said in the tone that meant no excuses, boy. “Did you read my memo yet?”
“No,” Harry said.
So much for it looking to be a good day with a promotion on the horizon. A sense of foreboding filled Harry. He knew his eccentric if not business-brilliant grandfather too well. And although at six foot two Harry often towered over other men, the dynamic Grandpa Joe still made Harry occasionally feel like a small wayward child.
Harry began to sort through the papers Peggy had given him. As he found the memo, he said, “Here it is.”
Grandpa Joe nodded, his thin white beard bobbing slightly. “Why don’t you take a minute to read it.”
As Harry scanned the memo he read the words aloud. “I just wanted to give you a heads up on the newest Jacobsen Enterprises program to recruit and retain upper-level management.”
He looked up at Grandpa Joe, who was staring out the window. Harry’s gaze flew over the rest of the memo outlining the new Jacobsen Stars program. A worried thought started in the pit of his stomach as he looked over at the spiral-bound presentation folder that was with the other mail on his desk. The sinking feeling quickly spread through the rest of his body.
“You want me to be a mentor?”
Grandpa Joe slowly turned around, his face a neutral mask. He gave a curt nod. “Absolutely.”
Harry stared as his grandfather continued. “I quite like my idea, and given your position in the company, it will be a good way to expand your horizons and help out the Jacobsen team. I think it will be a good experience for you.”
“A good experience for me?” Incredulity filled Harry’s voice. “From the way you were talking two days ago, I thought you were going to fill the vice president of development position.”
Grandpa Joe rolled his shoulders. “I’m still not sure about that yet.”
At that moment, business relationship be darned. This was personal, this was family. Whatever his grandfather had up his sleeve a few days ago, it hadn’t been this. “You’re going to promote someone else over my head, aren’t you? How is that a good experience for me?”
The neutral expression on his grandfather’s face never changed. “No one said anything about promoting people. Stop putting words into my mouth. This program is all about keeping top talent in the company. We don’t want them lured away by any of our competitors, especially after we’ve put so much investment into training them.”
“What about me? Where do I fit into all this?”
Grandpa Joe blinked. “That’s obvious, Harry, my boy, you’re going to be a mentor. In fact, that’s why I’m here. I’ve got the perfect person picked out just for you. She’s a recent hire. Well, I guess a year ago isn’t too recent. We hired her after Darci left. You know Megan MacGregor. She’s in Mergers and Acquisitions. An absolute gem that girl is, and I want to make sure she stays with us. She has raw talent, and I think you can help develop it.”
Megan MacGregor. Harry bit back the bile that immediately came to his throat upon hearing her name. He certainly did not want to mentor her. “I develop business opportunities and future growth,” he said. “I do not develop talent in females.”
“Your playboy reputation tells me that you at least try to develop something with females,” Grandpa Joe said. There was hard steel underlining his voice. “And let me remind you that Working Mother named this company one of the best places to work in America. At Jacobsen Enterprises we take pride in knocking down the glass ceiling. But don’t worry. You don’t have to participate, Harry. After all, you are family, and you will always have a place in the company. I made that promise to your mother when you graduated high school and went off to Vanderbilt.”
Wonderful, Harry thought. Grandpa Joe had wanted Harry, his oldest grandson, to go to Princeton. Accepted at both colleges, Harry had wanted to stay closer to Saint Louis. So he’d chosen Vanderbilt in Tennessee instead of the Ivy League Princeton in New Jersey, much to Grandpa Joe’s disappointment. Grandpa Joe had graduated from Princeton.
And by his grandfather bringing up Harry’s choice of alma mater, Harry knew that once again he’d displeased Grandpa Joe.
Which probably meant that Harry was about to be passed over again for a better spot in the company. In reality, being family didn’t even mean that much. Everyone knew that Grandpa Joe favored his granddaughters over his grandsons. Look at poor Shane, the youngest of all the grandchildren. Grandpa Joe didn’t even want him around, and hence Shane didn’t work anywhere in the company. Instead, he lived in his parents’ pool house and sponged off his trust fund. All the grandchildren had gotten a trust fund at age twenty-one, and Harry had tripled its value already.
Not that Grandpa Joe had ever mentioned that feat, a formidable accomplishment given the current stock-market crisis.
Heavy silence fell as Harry contemplated his options. How to get out of this situation gracefully? “I’d prefer that if I was going to mentor someone it be someone other than Megan MacGregor,” Harry said finally. “Someone male preferably. I don’t need to even get close to putting myself into a potential sexual harassment case.”
“So you think Megan MacGregor is a sexual harassment case waiting to happen?” Uh-oh. That tone again.
Harry squared his chin. He knew Megan’s type, but he should have kept his mouth shut about his opinion of her kind. Too late now. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
“Interesting,” Grandpa Joe said. He tilted his head as if he was contemplating a new electronics purchase. “You may be right. I’ll have to see what I can do. I have just about everyone else assigned, so it might take some juggling to move people around. If it won’t work out, you just won’t mentor. Let me get back to you.” And with that said, Grandpa Joe left the office.
Harry blinked. Just like that, Grandpa Joe was really gone. Had Harry missed something? Where had the night-and-day change in his grandfather come from?
Or had there really been a change? Harry leaned forward. The leather chair thumped his back as he picked up the spiral-bound Jacobsen Stars binder. He thumbed through it, skimming the highlights of the program.
He tossed the binder down. The program was like handing Megan MacGregor the keys to the Jacobsen kingdom. Couldn’t his grandfather see through her? She was a piranha both in business and her personal life. Although he hated listening to office gossip, according to the grapevine, she’d landed a man twenty years her senior for her fiancé. He’d been seen in her office.
Even the former floor receptionist, before she’d left, had blasted Megan MacGregor. No, Harry didn’t want anything to do with her. She was the type that would stop at nothing to get what she wanted, even if it meant crawling over his dead body to do it.
The real claw was that Grandpa Joe obviously adored Megan. He’d discovered her, so to speak, and had personally overseen her Jacobsen career. Megan had replaced Darci. That meant Harry really needed to be on his toes. He couldn’t let his guard down, especially when Megan MacGregor was involved.
FOR A MONDAY, it wasn’t really that bad of a day. Megan MacGregor looked around, satisfied. Work that she’d thought would take two days had been miraculously finished in one. Not yet three in the afternoon, Megan discovered she could even see the bottom of her wood inbox.
She slid a report into an interoffice-mail envelope and tossed it into her outbox. A creature of habit, she’d clear that out later, around four.
“Can I come in?”
Megan glanced up, seeing none other than Joe Jacobsen, the company founder and CEO standing at the entrance to her cubicle. A small knot of nerves clenched and she took a breath to calm herself.
“Why, of course, Mr. Jacobsen. I was just finishing up the Montana report.”
“Good, good. Come sit down, and call me Joe. Everyone does.”
Everyone perhaps but her. Megan tried not to appear too flustered as he took a seat at the small table, which was really no bigger than a card table.
“So I bet you wonder what brings me by,” he said.
Megan folded her hands into her lap to keep them from twitching. “Actually, I’ll admit that I do, although in the year that I’ve worked for you, I’ve discovered you do wander your company and pop in on people all the time.”
“Keeps them on their toes and I learn more that way,” Joe said. “Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s bad, but it keeps the company humming.”
“It’s a good company,” she said, mentally kicking herself for how lame and obvious that sounded. Joe Jacobsen didn’t seem to notice.
“Of course it’s a good company. I’ve been building it all my life. Now, as my delightful wife, Henrietta, reminds me, it’s time to start looking toward the future. Not that I’m planning on retiring, mind you. I’m nowhere ready to do that. But what I am doing is starting a new program called Jacobsen Stars. Let me tell you about it.”
Megan listened in fascination as he began to outline the entire program. A flicker of hope began inside her, and bloomed fully as he said the magic words. “I’m going around personally inviting people to participate in the program. You, Megan, have been chosen. What do you say?”
“Yes,” she managed to stammer out. Then her voice became stronger. “I absolutely would be delighted to participate.”
And she was. This was the opportunity of a lifetime, the type of opportunity she’d been slaving for when she’d put in all those years in night school earning her MBA. Her mother and Bill would be so proud.
“Of course, there is a little glitch,” Joe said. His blue-eyed gaze caught hers, and something about the tone of his words brought her back down a little to reality.
“A glitch?”
“A glitch,” Joe repeated. “Right now you are without a mentor.” He sighed and ran his finger thoughtfully against his white beard. “With your credentials and talent I want someone perfect, someone who can bring out the best in you. And I’ve found just that person.”
Lyle McKaskill, Megan thought. The fifty-year-old man was a wizard in the company, and she’d love to pick his brain. He’d forgotten more than she’d ever learned. Maybe the glitch was that Lyle’s wife was having surgery in a month. Lyle would be taking family medical leave to be with her.
Grandpa Joe leaned back in the chair and folded his hands. “But don’t despair. I have to admit I did spring the Jacobsen Stars program on him. Thus I expect that my grandson Harry will see the light in a day or two and agree to be your mentor.”
“Harry?” The word, said in absolute appalled disbelief, came forth from her lips before she could bite it back. Please let her have heard Joe Jacobsen wrong.
Not Harry Sanders. Harry hated her. He’d never seemed to like her, and ever since that meeting a year ago—when she’d questioned the validity and rationale of his ideas—he’d made it perfectly clear that he’d fire her the first moment he could.
“Harry,” Joe confirmed without noticing Megan’s stunned silence. “Now don’t take it personally, but Harry turned down the idea of being your mentor. It has nothing to do with you; he’s just a little bogged down with this New York merger, the chain of Evie’s Pancake Houses that we’re bringing under the Jacobsen Enterprises umbrella.”
Joe paused before continuing. “Harry has agreed to think about it, but if he can’t work you in, then I’m going to find a replacement mentor for you. However, let me be frank, I really don’t want to consider that as an option except as a last resort. I’ve learned in business that when you know a decision you’ve made is the right one, you stick with it.”
Megan forced the smile to remain on her face. So there it was. Joe Jacobsen had handpicked his grandson Harry Sanders to be her mentor. The joy that had originally seeped through Megan had ebbed fully. Then she drew herself up. Lemonade from lemons. If Harry wouldn’t do it, Joe Jacobsen was prepared to find her another mentor. She’d hope for that.
“Anyhow, the program won’t officially start for two weeks. That should give me plenty of time to convince Harry to change his mind. You two could really benefit each other.”
Right. Of course they could. The only benefit Megan could see for Harry is that he could be one step closer to finding reasons to have her fired. As for her, the benefit to her career could be summed up in four words: nada, nothing, zero, zilch.
Joe reached for Megan’s personal copy of the Montana report that she’d placed earlier in the middle of her table. “You know, I thought of sending Harry to Montana once,” Joe said. “Then I wondered what he’d do with all that fresh air. He’s such a city boy. Never wants to stray far from home. But he loves this company, I’ll say that for him. Don’t worry, Megan. He’ll just need a little convincing to be your mentor, that’s all. In fact, why don’t you pay him a little visit today? He never leaves until five, and perhaps if you go personally and tell him how excited you are about having him mentor you, he’ll understand how important I think this is.”
Megan managed a faint smile. She’d go visit Harry all right, but only to convince him to back down so that someone else would have to be her mentor. Now there was a plan. “I could do that.”
“Good.” Joe stood, his business suit hardly wrinkled. She wondered how he managed to do that. Within an hour of arriving at the office, her conservative blue suit had crumpled from simply sitting in her chair and doing her work.
Joe Jacobsen gave her a big encouraging smile. “You’ll find the complete Jacobsen Stars program in a package that will be delivered to you tomorrow morning. I’m glad to have you on board. Have a good afternoon, Megan.”
Megan watched him go. Then a thought hit her. She poked her head out the cubicle and started after his retreating figure. “Mr. Jacobsen!”
He stopped and turned. She caught up to him. “What if Harry refuses and you can’t find someone else? Am I out of the program?”
Joe gave her a reassuring look. “Oh no. I’ll find you someone. But don’t worry. I just know Harry will agree.” He turned and walked away.
As Megan stared at Joe Jacobsen’s retreating back, determination stole over her. She didn’t want Harry Sanders as her mentor probably any more than he wanted her as his protégée. So all she had to do was convince him that it was in his best interest to say no. She went back to her cubicle to begin rehearsing her speech.
GRANDPA JOE WHISTLED as he stepped into the executive elevator. He pushed the button for the twenty-fifth floor. Whereas most corporate headquarters went skyward, Jacobsen Enterprises had sacrificed height for width. Although this was the main building, the complex sprawled several city blocks. It was one of the most valuable pieces of real estate in the city.
Not that he’d want a tall building anyway. He hated elevator rides. The trip to the top of the Sears Tower in Chicago, even though under two minutes, had about done him in. And to think he was a combat veteran.
He stepped out on his floor, and headed toward Andrew’s office. Then thinking twice, he bypassed it. He loved his son-in-law as much as his own son, Blake, but unlike Blake, Andrew thought Grandpa Joe was a constant meddler. Perhaps he was, Grandpa Joe conceded, but after all he was so good at it. Andrew’s marriage to Lilly was a perfect example, as was Darci and Cameron’s.
Megan and Harry were next. He’d watched each for almost the past year. They were perfect for each other. They’d just have to figure it out and needed a nudge in the right direction. He’d given them that nudge, although honestly he knew they’d need more than just one. He glanced at his Rolex, a gift from his wife on their fortieth anniversary. Right now Megan should be on her way to Harry’s office.
How Grandpa Joe wished he could be a fly on the wall for that conversation. He didn’t expect it to go well, but that was okay. He had quite a few aces left to play.
HARRY KNEW MEGAN MacGregor had arrived before she even knocked on his office door. He’d been expecting her since that morning, and it hadn’t made his lunch sit well. He hated to wait, especially for one as sneaky and conniving as Megan.
The subtle floral fragrance of her perfume reached him as she approached. His nose wrinkled as his brain registered the pleasant scent. Harry steeled himself. It was imperative that he remain in control of the situation. Thus, he deliberately chose not to look away from the e-mail he was reading on the computer screen. “A bit tardy, aren’t you? Come to bring me the Montana report? It is complete, isn’t it?”
Her tone hid her defensiveness well, but he still heard the echo of it. “Yes, as a matter of fact it is. Early, I might add. I put your copy into interoffice mail. I’m sure you’ll receive it tomorrow.”
Harry knew she stood right on the other side of his desk. “And let’s cut to the chase. As for tardy, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.
Harry turned around from his computer and took a moment to study her. Deliberately he ran his gaze up and down her figure, taking in the rumpled blue suit, the plain white cotton shirt that revealed nothing, not even the swell of her breasts.
He’d guess she wore sensible pumps, but he couldn’t tell because his desk blocked his view of her feet. Even her brown hair was conservative, a short cut that framed her face. He returned his gaze to connect with hers. Despite a slight telltale flush that indicated that she hadn’t liked his perusal, her haughty expression hadn’t changed.
But she was flushed. Good. He liked that he had an effect on her. Whereas she might be able to fool everyone else, he was one man that could see right through her pretenses. While she might be pretty in an Ivory-soap sort of way, she definitely was not nice or pure.
“No, you’re right,” he said as he began his verbal offensive. “As for being tardy, you may not know what I’m talking about. Let me see if I can fill you in. Joe Jacobsen. Jacobsen Stars. Me not mentoring you even if my life depended on it.” He watched her expression turn angry. “I expected you early this morning.”
She placed her hands on her hips. “Your grandfather just came to see me a half hour ago to tell me about the program.”
“Ah, that explains it. I’m surprised he didn’t hit you first thing in the morning. I guess he’s slipping. But let me see if I’ve got the rest correct. You’re here because he told you I’m not planning on being your mentor. Don’t even bother trying to convince me otherwise.”
Megan gave a mock laugh. “Since we’ve already cut to the chase, let me continue to follow suit. As if I want you to be my mentor. Do I have a tattoo marked Desperate on my head? If so, tell me, I need to have it removed.”
Harry clapped his hands together and laughed. Quick on the comeback. He liked that. But of course, so was he. His lips pursed together before he spoke. “Score one for Megan. Tell you what though—” Harry gestured with the back of his hand toward the open door “—why don’t you close that before you embarrass yourself. You’d hate for everyone to hear what you’re really like.”
“What I’m really like?” Megan walked to the door. Harry caught a brief vision of Peggy’s surprised face as Megan shut the door with a decisive click. “Now that we’re alone, Harry Sanders, why don’t you explain to me just what you are talking about?”
“I’m sure you know exactly what you are really like, which means that I have nothing to explain to you,” Harry said. He’d been rehearsing this all day, and it was actually going quite well. “Let me just say that your entry into the Jacobsen Stars program is not one of my grandfather’s better ideas.”
“You just wish you could fire me like you threatened to do.”
Now there was a good idea. Too bad she was Grandpa Joe’s pet. Harry shrugged as if the issue was of little concern. “Someday I will.”
Megan gave a haughty laugh. “Maybe if you ever get promoted you might get a chance. Of course, if the day ever comes that you get promoted, I’m sure I’ll want to find another job before you run the company into the ground.”
“Oh, you’ve taken the gloves off, haven’t you, Megan? I wondered if you would. So since you’re here, let’s get down to why you came in the first place. You want me to refuse to be your mentor so that my grandfather chooses someone else for you. Not going to happen. He’s not going to change his mind, and neither will I.”
“What?!” Her mouth dropped open.
He arched an eyebrow. “Did I stutter? It’s not going to happen.”
She gestured wildly for a moment. “Are you insane? Look at us! We can’t stand each other. You’ve done nothing but pick apart my performance since I got here a year ago. I’m sorry. Well, no I’m not. You made yourself look foolish in that meeting, Harry, not me.”
Perhaps, but that didn’t matter. He’d forgotten how intense she could be when angry. He shoved that intriguing thought aside. He had to stay focused.
“That meeting long ago is irrelevant. You are not good for Jacobsen, Megan. You are not a good fit for this company. But since it is not my company until such time that my grandfather and my father both step down and retire, I have little say in the matter.”
This was going better than he thought. He knew she’d come in prepared to fight, to prove they were incompatible. She’d played right into his hands. Megan drew herself up and leaned over his desk. “So step aside and let me have a different mentor.”
“No. You know what they say about your past mistakes coming back to haunt you, don’t you, Megan? That was your mistake, messing with me when you first came to work for Jacobsen Enterprises.”
“I did no such thing as what, messing with you? I came here on a professional basis. You and I may not be able to stand each other, but we can be professional. Why don’t you just step aside so we can get past this issue and move on with our lives.”
She drew a deep breath, as if trying to calm herself. The movement made her breasts press forward. The suit jacket gaped open. She was wearing white lace.
Harry’s throat went dry, and his next words simply disappeared. What was it about a clue train, or conversation train, or something like that derailing? He felt poleaxed. Come on! From seeing catalogs to actually removing women’s clothing during lovemaking, he’d certainly seen lace-covered breasts before. But something about Megan and lace had just caused him to come unglued.
He blinked in order to yank his gaze away from staring at her breasts. He’d totally lost where he was, oh yeah, his office. And what he was saying or about to say? To regain control he stood, his six-foot-two height towering over her by six inches.
“I told my grandfather I’d make my decision soon. Who knows, maybe I just will be your mentor. After all, you’re right. I need to be professional about this.”
“You are such a, you are…”
“Oh spit it out, Megan. You can do better than that. Everyone knows how you enjoy making me look foolish. No one else is listening or even here. You don’t have to pretend to be perfect. Let the real you hang out for once.”
She tossed a hand though her short hair as if she was trying to regain control, and then the words spit forth. “You are a cad!”
Harry laughed. Boy, was she cute when she was angry. “Bravo. Impressive. You could have called me so much worse.”
“You are impossible!” Her brown eyes flashed venom at him.
“Yes,” he said. “I am. I take pride in that attribute.”
“This was a waste of time.” Megan strode over to the door, giving Harry a view of her shoes: plain, sensible blue pumps that matched her suit.
But she had nice ankles. Nice, thin, and not too bony. Just about perfect.
He stared at those perfect ankles as she stormed out of his office, her brown hair tossing around her head.
Peggy suddenly hovered at the doorway. “You got a call from Peters in New York while Ms. MacGregor was here. I didn’t want to disturb you and send it through.”
“Thanks, Peggy. Ms. MacGregor is disturbing enough. Go ahead and redial him for me, won’t you?”
“Certainly.” Peggy went back to her desk.
Harry sat back down, surprised to find himself so oddly invigorated. Megan was disturbing.
Arguing with her, how to describe it? The thought that it had been better than some of the sex he’d ever had, and man had he had some sex, came into his mind. She was feisty, mind-blowing, difficult, temperamental, and yet she faced him down and went where most men would even fear to tread. Hmm.
She was an intriguing woman. No wonder men found her a siren. Maybe he should be her mentor just to spar with her again. It had been the most fun he’d had in several weeks.
He laughed at the foolishness of that idea as Peggy sent the call through.

Chapter Two
“Megan? Is that you?”
“It’s me.” Megan’s purse landed with a thump on the side table. She took a moment to calm herself down. The meeting with Harry still had her totally keyed up.
The look on his face! Never in her life had she wanted to slap someone as much as she had wanted to smack Harry Sanders. Heck, she’d have kissed him if it would have given her back the control she’d lost in that meeting.
Of course, kissing him…Control. Harry always made her so furious, mostly at herself for being so unprofessional and out of control.
She strode into the living room of the shotgun flat she shared with her mother down in the area of Saint Louis known as the Hill. Her mother, propped up by pillows, was watching the evening news. Megan leaned and kissed her on the cheek. “How are you feeling today?”
Barbara MacGregor smiled weakly. “Okay. Today is much better than yesterday,” she said. “I’m not as numb in my legs as I was.”
“Then that’s good news,” Megan said. She pushed the wheelchair aside and took a seat next to her mother. “Maybe the medicine is working.”
“I hope so,” Barbara said, her face clouding for a moment. Megan felt the familiar pang shoot through her. Her mother, the bravest woman she knew, did not deserve to have a primary-progressive case of multiple sclerosis. It had left Barbara needing a wheelchair most of the time. While her mother could still walk, her muscles were so weak that she used the wheelchair mostly to conserve precious energy.
“You just missed Bill. He brought me dinner before he went in to work.” Barbara mentioned her fiancé of the past year. “He’s tending bar tonight.”
Ironically, her mother’s fiancé, a wonderful retired gentleman with lots of spare time on his hands, worked for mad money at Henrietta’s, Jacobsen’s five-star, five-diamond restaurant.
Located only a few blocks away on Southwest Avenue, Bill often brought Barbara gourmet carryout dinners since she rarely left the house herself except for a doctor’s appointment. It was just too much effort to go anywhere besides the general area of her home.
“So how was work?”
If one forgot about Harry Sanders, it was, “Great,” Megan answered. “Mr. Jacobsen came by to tell me about a new program he’s launching in two weeks called Jacobsen Stars. He wants me to participate.”
“Honey! That’s fantastic! Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” Megan replied as she told her mother about it, except of course, about Harry.
“I’m so proud of you,” her mother said. She moved her hand slowly and finally covered Megan’s. “You’re the best daughter I could have asked for.”
“Mom,” Megan said. Tears brimmed in Megan’s eyes and she bit her lower lip to keep from crying.
Barbara’s voice suddenly sounded weary. “You shouldn’t be having to take care of me, Megan. I’m only fifty. I should be fine.”
A lump lodged in Megan’s throat. She tried to lighten the moment. “Well, set a date with Bill and I’ll pass you off on him.”
Her mother’s features clouded. “You know I can’t do that. He’s been too terrific and I can’t take advantage of him. I’m thinking of calling off the engagement. He needs a woman who can get around, not one that is bedridden.”
“Mom! He loves you!”
“Sometimes love isn’t enough.” A tear went down Barbara’s cheek. Megan reached for a tissue and wiped it away.
Her mother was referring to Megan’s father, who had dumped Barbara when she’d first been diagnosed with MS fifteen years ago. Barbara smiled brightly, as if the matter was concluded.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” her mother said. “There’s some dinner for you too. Bill even brought you some of that five-layer chocolate suicide cake you love so much.”
“He’s going to make me fat. I’ll split it with you,” Megan said. She rose to her feet. “In fact, I think I’ll go get it and eat it first.”
“You’re not fat,” Barbara called after her. “Girls who are five-foot-eight like you need a few pounds on them or they look too scrawny. But you are perfect. Any man would be thrilled to have you.”
Maybe, until they learned that her mother came with the package. Not many men wanted to date her after discovering her invalid mother lived with her.
Personally, though, after seeing how Bill loved her mother, Megan wanted no part of any shallow, superficial man either. So, in essence, she’d given up dating. Right now, working at Jacobsen Enterprises and supporting her mother were much more important priorities.
Megan went into the tiny kitchen and took the carryout container from the refrigerator. She lifted the lid, her mouth watering at the sight of five layers of chocolate cake with milk chocolate frosting sandwiched between each layer. A dark chocolate frosting, sprinkled with grated chocolate, covered the entire cake. Nestled in the corner of the white container was a small cup containing the special chocolate sauce.
As always, Henrietta’s chef had been more than generous with the portion. Megan took out a fork. Nothing like chocolate to make a girl feel better. She took a bite and walked back into the living room. Delicious.
“No offense, Mom, but you need to keep Bill just so we can keep getting this cake.”
“I guess he does have his uses.” Megan heard the love in her mom’s voice, meaning that Barbara’s early melancholy had lifted. She was one of the most up people Megan knew, but even her mother did get depressed occasionally. How she remained as chipper, after needing to sell her home and move in with her daughter, was beyond Megan. Her mother was her hero.
“So any idea who is to be your mentor?” her mother asked after Megan fed her a piece of cake.
Megan wished she could lie, but she’d never been able to, especially to her mother. “Harry Sanders.”
Barbara looked impressed. “The grandson?”
“One and the same.”
“You don’t sound so thrilled about it.”
“I’m not. He hates me.” Megan filled her mother in.
Barbara ate another bite of cake. “Actually,” she said finally, “I think he will be a perfect choice for you. If you can deal with him, then you can deal with anyone.”
Her optimistic mother would see the silver lining. “As usual, you’re probably right,” Megan said. “I didn’t think about it that way.”
Barbara smiled. “Joe Jacobsen must really think you’re special if he gave you his grandson as a mentor. I think you’ll discover that this works out better than you had ever hoped.”
Megan forked the last bite of cake into her mouth to keep from answering. That remained to be seen.
TWO WEEKS LATER Megan stepped out of her cubicle and one last time attempted to smooth the wrinkles out of her skirt. It was her best suit, but the stubborn wrinkle at midthigh refused to budge.
“Good luck,” Cheryl, the floor receptionist, called as Megan stepped into the elevator that would take her upstairs and to her first executive-level meeting as part of the Jacobsen Stars program.
“Megan, welcome,” Joe Jacobsen greeted her as she stepped off the elevator. “We’re in the large conference room. Just follow Sally.”
And Joe passed Megan off on Sally as he waited for the next person.
Megan made a quick mental note. This was why Jacobsen was one of the best places to work. It was class personified. Knowing each “Star” would probably be nervous, Joe Jacobsen had greeted them personally and then had his secretary show them to their respective seats. His foresight eliminated what could have been many awkward moments.
Sally showed Megan to a seat between Jill Benedict and Alan Dalen, other Jacobsen Stars. Harry was across the table from her. His eyes narrowed as she pulled her chair out. “Harry,” she said as she sat.
“Megan,” he acknowledged before he reengaged the executive sitting to his right. It was the first time she’d seen him since their ill-fated meeting two weeks ago.
“I’m too excited,” Jill confided to Megan.
“I know. It’s a great opportunity,” Megan replied as Joe Jacobsen came to the head of the table.
“Welcome, everyone. I’m excited to announce that this meeting marks the first of many for our new Jacobsen Stars. Today’s session is a think tank on the acquisition of Evie’s Pancake Houses that we are planning. The information is in the folders in front of you.”
Like everyone else, Megan opened the folder and studied the pages as Joe Jacobsen kept talking. “We’ve run into a problem, though.” Everyone turned their heads to look at their boss.
“We never went after this as a merger. Evie’s is a privately held chain of ten restaurants in the New York City market. Most of their value is in the actual real estate of the buildings themselves. Anyway, we now have competition. Odyssey Holdings has come along and proposed a merger. Whereas we would have been refurbishing the restaurants and replacing the Evie’s name, they’ve proposed to keep it. Thoughts?”
Conversation began flying as people began tossing out ideas. Megan half listened but at the same time she started to really study the portfolio in front of her. Evie’s, named for the owner’s wife, was only being sold because the owner wanted to retire and none of his children wanted the business. Whereas Jacobsen Enterprises wasn’t offering any stock, just cash, Odyssey had proposed stock options in its company as well. Odyssey had also proposed to keep all the restaurants open.
“I think we need to offer them more money,” Harry said. “After all, we only want half of the locations and the rest can be sold to recoup some of our initial investment. Several of the restaurants are actually not showing a profit anymore.”
Megan tapped her pen on the binder. She was missing something.
“That idea has merit,” someone else said. “Some of the neighborhoods are not experiencing urban renewal. We should get out while we can before property value drops further.”
Megan watched Harry nod his agreement, a strand of blond hair falling into his face. He pushed it back. “Exactly what we should do,” he said.
“But it’s the wrong thing to do.” The room got quiet and Megan realized she’d spoken her thoughts aloud.
“And just why is that? Do you have a reason to back your thoughts up?” The words, of course, came from Harry.
Megan glared at him. She would not let him get to her. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
She turned and directed her comments to where Joe Jacobsen sat. “Mr. Jacobsen, Evie’s is a chain of restaurants named after the owner’s wife. It’s her legacy. No amount of money is going to sway him. Sure he wants financial freedom for the rest of his life, but not at the expense of his wife. It would have been like Dave Thomas selling Wendy’s and it suddenly being called Sandy’s. You have name recognition. That comforts people. It’s why travelers on highways often go to McDonald’s instead of the truck stop. They know what they’re getting.”
“And how is this important?”
Megan shot Harry another dirty look. Hopefully he’d get the message and keep his mouth closed, although she doubted it. “It would be like Grandpa Joe’s Good Eats suddenly being called something else. Mr. Jacobsen, could you just give up Grandpa Joe’s knowing it was going to be torn down or sold for something else?” She looked back at Joe Jacobsen. He looked thoughtful. “It was your very first business venture, the one that gave you the capital to launch Henrietta’s and Jacobsen. It’s the company cornerstone. Well, could you give it up? Sir?”
Grandpa Joe shook his head. “No, which is why I haven’t even considered the option even though the land value has quadrupled. The restaurant is like a baby. It even predates my children.” He leaned back in his chair, his blue gaze fixating on her as he waited for her reply.
“Exactly. I’m sure neither can Mr.—” she checked the folder “—Althoff. While he wants out, he also has a bond with these neighborhoods. It’s a private company, not public. It has no stockholders but himself and people he chose to sell shares to.”
“But what about the restaurants that are losing money?” Harry asked. “What proposal do you have for them?”
Megan tapped her pen on the folder again. “We need to see why they are losing money. Is it that the neighborhood is in decline? Maybe there is too much competition in the area. Maybe the factory has closed. That’s research we need to do. We may be able to move an Evie’s restaurant down the block a ways and discover that it becomes an overnight sensation in its new home.”
“Can you prove that works?” Harry asked.
“Absolutely,” Megan turned back to Harry. If looks could kill. She pressed on anyway. “Remember when the Chicken Clatch found it wasn’t successful in Eureka’s fast-food row? So the company closed the store and built one five miles west in Pacific. It’s a runaway success. We need to consider these types of things before we up our offer, or decide to kill the Evie’s name.”
Joe Jacobsen signaled his approval by nodding. “Excellent thoughts, Megan. Those are points we need to consider. Keeping ten successful venues, even if we have to move some down the block as Megan says, would be more income to Jacobsen than five. Jill, will you look into those possibilities?”
“Yes, sir,” Jill replied. “I’d be delighted.”
“Good,” Joe said. “Next item.”
As his grandfather moved on to the next item, Harry wanted to spit. Perfect little Megan MacGregor. Even though a brainstorming meeting wasn’t a competition, once again she’d bested him. He brushed aside the begrudging respect he had for her performance. Her performance didn’t matter. His did.
Would his grandfather ever see him as a valid player? Harry fumed, hating himself for even taking a moment to wallow in self-pity. But after all, when had he been good enough? He’d gone to the wrong college, failed Grandpa Joe’s indoctrination into the company—no way had Harry wanted to spend two weeks cooking in Grandpa Joe’s Good Eats—and now he hadn’t even had decent ideas in a brainstorming session.
Megan’s ideas were dead on, and what miffed Harry was that they’d come from her, not him. If he didn’t get his act together, despite his MBA and being family, he’d never get promoted to any type of vice president. Too bad he was too driven and actually wanted to work. If not, he could have just lived off his trust fund and been a playboy like his cousin Shane.
He suddenly realized he hadn’t been paying attention to what was going on. Panic filled him and he tried to focus. The last thing he needed was to be caught off guard in a meeting. Thankfully everyone was still talking about the New York trip. Jacobsen Enterprises was sending a team in one week to hopefully finish and wrap up the negotiations with Smith and Bethesda, the legal firm representing Evie’s Pancake Houses.
“And of course, Megan, I want you as part of the team.”
The chair hit Harry in the back as he sat up. Megan had just been added to the negotiation team? He had missed something. He was leading the team, and his nemesis had just thorned her way into his side.
To conceal his irritation, Harry focused on an oil painting on the wall above Megan’s head. Suddenly everyone began clapping. Great. Obviously not his day. Now what had he missed?
Something major from the way everyone was smiling at him. Harry smiled automatically, hiding his lack of a clue.
“Congratulations,” someone said.
“What a great pairing,” the executive to his right said. “You and Megan MacGregor. She’s talent extraordinare. Think of what you two can accomplish.”
“Thank you,” Harry said. He glanced up at his grandfather. Grandpa Joe looked smug and instantly Harry knew what he’d missed. Grandpa Joe had just announced at the meeting that he, Harry, was Megan’s mentor. His beloved grandfather had just caught him in a corner and used it to his advantage. There was no way Harry could retaliate or back out now. He was stuck. Grandpa Joe arched his white eyebrows at Harry, the movement and his twinkling blue eyes saying what words could not.
Harry had been had. He was stuck. He’d have to play along. His sister’s words came into his head. They were the ones she’d often repeated when frustrated during her tenure at Jacobsen’s, “If I didn’t love Grandpa Joe.”
His grandfather came over to his seat and leaned down to speak just so Harry could hear. “It’s for your own good, and that of Jacobsen’s. Keep that in mind. I will expect you to accomplish this with no problems.”
“I understand,” Harry replied. He watched his grandfather leave the conference room. Four years of acting in high school theater allowed Harry to keep his face schooled into a neutral mask that hid all of his raging anger.
His only consolation was that across the table Megan looked shell-shocked. And for once she was speechless as people began leaving the meeting, each telling her congratulations as they walked by.
“HOW’D IT GO?” Cheryl looked up from sorting the mail as Megan returned to her office.
“Great,” Megan lied as she walked toward her cubicle. “Just great.”
Normally she would stop and chat with Cheryl. As a co-worker, she liked Cheryl. Because of poor performance, Megan had needed to fire the previous receptionist.
“I’m glad it went great,” Cheryl called after her.
Yeah, Megan thought. Most of the meeting had gone great.
The meeting had been going well, even after she’d made the major blunder of opening her mouth and blurting out her opinion of Harry’s idea.
After all, the meeting had been a brainstorming and that’s what think-tank brainstorming was, a shouting out of ideas so that people could look at all sides of the issues.
But she’d crossed Harry Sanders, again. Why did she keep doing that? This was the second time her politically incorrect semantics had discredited his ideas.
And then Joe Jacobsen announced to everyone that Harry was her mentor.
“I didn’t accept the job, you know.”
She’d recognize his voice anywhere. Its husky baritone washed over her, and she whirled around in her chair, finding Harry Sanders standing at the entrance to her cubicle, his presence filling the small opening. “So we can find some common ground and manage to work together on this project, know that he poleaxed me too.”
“I see,” Megan said. She bit back her anger. If he’d only backed out when she’d asked. But that didn’t matter now. They were stuck. Fighting like at their last encounter in his office would do both little good.
So instead she took a good look at him. Tiny hints of strain etched lines around his blue eyes. They were Jacobsen blue eyes, just like his grandfather’s. The only thing missing was the warmth Joe Jacobsen always had in his.
But there was no doubt about it, Harry Sanders was a beautiful man. His hair, almost the color of wheat with natural highlights washed through, was short and cropped into the latest fashion. His eyes were set deep—the top lid hidden, sunken into his face like Paul Newman’s or Simon Baker’s. And his lips, Megan didn’t want to think about those, or the number of women they’d kissed. Everyone at Jacobsen knew Harry’s playboy reputation. While he never dated anyone at work, the switchboard fielded enough of his calls, more than triple anyone else’s.
He smiled suddenly, and it lit up his whole face. Laugh lines creased around those generous lips, and Megan sucked in her breath. If he looked like that when he smiled politely, what would he look like when he really smiled, smiled with pleasure or wanting?
That was dangerous ground she didn’t need to tread. Harry Sanders was business, that was all. Averting her gaze from his straight white teeth, she tried to concentrate on what he was saying as he sat in a chair at her small table. Instead she saw paisley socks that perfectly matched both his suit and his shoes. The man knew how to dress. She blinked.
“…so my grandfather again gets what he wants. I’ll expect you to have the full proposal read by tomorrow. Even though Jill is researching your ideas, you need to be certain she gives you a full report before you board the plane. And lastly, buy yourself an updated wardrobe. Those clothes need to go.”
“What?” Had she heard him correctly? Her mouth opened a little in surprise.
“Clothes,” Harry said without missing a beat. She had heard him correctly. “You look like a dowager duchess. Prim. Proper. Not quite the look we want. You’re what, twenty-something?”
“Twenty-seven.” Her voice was indignant.
“Right. Well you should dress sleek. Young. Professional. Not frumpy. We’re going into the fashion capital of America and you aren’t sixty.”
“There is nothing wrong with my clothes,” Megan repeated, reining in her anger. After all, her clothes were designer labels, she’d just found them in an upscale consignment shop.
Harry folded his hands into his lap and leaned forward. The movement allowed her to glimpse the muscles under the suit jacket and her mouth went dry. “I’ve been given the task of being your mentor. Why don’t you assume I do know some things and follow my advice. Since I am your mentor, you are now a reflection of me and my tutelage. Thus, I’d prefer you listen.”
He leaned back and put his hands behind his head. That movement emphasized other muscles. Megan resisted the urge to lick her lips.
What was it about him? Other men had sat in her cubicle, but why was Harry’s presence affecting her like this? Megan attempted to focus, her gaze instead watching Harry as he shrugged, his jaw flexing as he spoke.
“But, if you don’t want to update your wardrobe I suppose that’s fine. When you discover I’m right, it will come at your expense.”
She attempted to regain control of the situation. Harry Sanders, who always looked perfect, was in her cubicle telling her how to dress. The thought rankled, giving her some of the bite she needed. “I’ll see what I can do. Anything else?”
Harry took what seemed like forever to study her. Megan felt her body heat as his blue-eyed gaze roved over her. It took all her mettle not to move a muscle. Whatever this test was, she would pass.
He finally spoke, his voice a bit lower, huskier, than before. “No. There’s nothing else. Everything else, hair, makeup, is fine. Just fine. Make sure you lose the frumpy clothes. My sister usually shops at…”
He rattled off the names of some stores and then he was gone.
Megan stared at the empty chair. Had he really been there at all? She knew he had, but it seemed so improbable. Harry Sanders, extending an olive branch of sorts?
If that’s what it actually was? And if it was an olive branch, it was probably only because he was stuck with her, and her with him. But he was correct about one thing. He did know how to dress, and he always looked impeccable no matter what designer suit he wore
New clothes. Buying clothes would break her tight budget, but as much as she hated to admit it, Harry was right. She needed a young professional wardrobe.
New York, here I come.

Chapter Three
Jacobsen Enterprises Internal Memo
From: Joe Jacobsen, CEO
To: Andrew Sanders, president
Re: Harry/Jacobsen Stars
The meeting went well. Of course, both Harry and Megan looked a little upset that neither got what they wanted, but they covered well. Both have learned that first rule in business, never let them see you cry. Anyhow, I’m sending Megan to New York with Harry. Her ideas in the meeting were fantastic, and a full transcript will be on your desk by tomorrow morning.
J.J.
Jacobsen Enterprises Internal Memo
From: Andrew Sanders, president
To: Joe Jacobsen, CEO
Re: Harry/Jacobsen Stars
You truly are a crazy old coot. Do you really think forcing the two into some unhappy togetherness is going to spark romance? You’ll be lucky you get any type of merger out of this mess you’ve created.
A.S.
Jacobsen Enterprises Internal Memo
From: Joe Jacobsen, CEO
To: Andrew Sanders, president
Re: Harry/Jacobsen Stars
It’s an acquisition, and of course everything will work out. I have a gift, a natural talent, for both business and romance. Want to bet on it? Didn’t we say double or nothing on Harry?
J.J.
Jacobsen Enterprises Internal Memo
From: Andrew Sanders, president
To: Joe Jacobsen, CEO
Re: Harry/Jacobsen Stars
Here we go again.
A.S.
“LAST CALL FOR Flight 690 to LaGuardia.”
“Here,” Megan rushed up to the counter, her new designer blue Italian pumps already rubbing a blister on her heel. She handed the clerk her boarding pass and began digging for her driver’s license.
So much for being on time for her flight. She’d left home late, traffic through the city on Highway 70 had been terrible, and the only long-term parking had been in lot A, the farthest one away.
To make matters worse, her gate in Lambert International’s D-concourse had been all the way at the end, and she’d been practically running the whole way, including on the speed walks. It seemed that everyone had a flight out of the Saint Louis international airport at 8:00 a.m. on a Tuesday morning.
“Has your luggage been with you at all times?” the counter clerk asked.
“What? Oh yes,” Megan said, snapping her attention to the task at hand, getting on the plane. Within moments she was walking down the gangway to the Boeing 757 for the 882 mile flight to New York.
This was her first time flying as a requirement of her job. She’d always known Joe Jacobsen refused to hire charter flights or even purchase his own jet, so it surprised her to discover that instead of coach, her seat was in first class. The few times she’d ever flown before had all been in coach where she was lucky to even get beverage service.
“Welcome,” the flight attendant said as she took Megan’s boarding pass. “Second row, which is actually the first one on your left, the aisle seat. You’ll need to put your carry-on luggage under the seat. The overhead bins are full.”
“Thanks,” Megan said. She walked the few feet toward her seat.
“About time.”
“Oh. You.” Megan’s breath exhaled into a sigh of resignation as she saw Harry. He was already seated by the window, a partially full glass of orange juice in his left hand.
“Hello to you too, seatmate. Let me tell you how delighted and excited I am to share this two-hour flight with you.” His blue eyes narrowed. “But at least you followed my advice. New clothes. Nice.”
Her new V-neck silk blouse gaped open as she attempted to shove her carry-on bag under the seat. She wrestled with keeping her shirt closed while she tried to shove the bag into the small space.
“New underthings too?”
Great. So much for success with her shirt. He’d been staring at her breasts. She covered her mortification by remaining flippant. “You said new clothes. I bought new everything.”
She gave one last irritated shove and the carry-on bag slid into place. Her purse she shoved into the space in front of her. She took her seat and strapped herself in.
“Orange juice or V8?”
“Orange juice,” Megan replied, taking the plastic cup the flight attendant handed her. She let the cold juice roll over her tongue. Just what she needed.
Harry’s voice came out of nowhere. “I would have pegged you for a V8 girl. All those vegetables.”
“You would peg me for a lot of things that I’m not,” Megan said. She looked ahead at the wall in front of her. The fabric was an interesting pattern of blue. Please don’t let him be a chatty seatmate.
“So tell me then about the real Megan MacGregor. You know, the things that aren’t on your résumé.”
“Most of them are none of your business.” To her delight she realized that sitting in first class meant having an extra-wide armrest. At least she wouldn’t need to jostle with Harry for that.
Next to her, Harry shrugged. “We have two hours to kill.”
Megan heard the rumbling of the engine as the plane began to back away from the gate. “Didn’t you bring a magazine? Business paperwork? My briefcase is in my carry-on. I have plenty to do.”
“Like you’ll be able to pull that out and get to it. ’Course, the show was pretty good.”
She felt her face flush. There never was a dull moment with Harry, was there? “I have a magazine in my purse.”
“Let me guess. Vogue? Mademoiselle?”
From his tone she knew he was poking fun at her. “For your information it’s U.S. News and World Report. I also have a book.”
His blue eyes twinkled. “A romance?”
“No, a mystery by Sue Grafton.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think it would be romance. Although with your prim-and-proper facade you could secretly harbor stacks of those sweep-me-off-my-feet historicals at home. You know, the ones with the half-naked guy on the cover.”
“I do not,” Megan retorted. She preferred contemporary romance, not that she’d tell him that.
“Do you even have a romantic bone in your body?”
“Harry!”
“She calls my name.”
The plane began to accelerate down the runway, thrusting them back into their seats. So engrossed in their conversation, they’d missed the security lecture. She made a mental note to remember where the exits were, something she’d been taught to do on an Oprah show on surviving disasters. But Oprah hadn’t known about Harry Sanders. He could have been a show all by himself.
“It won’t crash,” Harry said as if reading her mind. “I’ve never had a bad flight.”
Of course the golden boy wouldn’t. The skies wouldn’t dare misbehave for him. “Yes, but with my bad luck, today might be the first. Look at the proof. We got stuck with each other, didn’t we?”
He smiled, giving her the grin that she knew had melted hearts for miles. “The more I think of that, the more I think how lucky you are, in the good sense. I’m a Jacobsen.”
“So? That just means you got your foot in the door. Personally, I would have rather had Lyle McKaskill.”
“Really? He’s fifty. But then, I forget you like them older.” Harry’s smile had faded.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
But the plane had launched itself into the air, and, instead of answering, Harry turned his attention out the window as the city of Saint Louis began fading from view.
Megan fumed. Dig and rip. What did he mean anyway with that crack? Did he know how absolutely infuriating he was? He was a cad. A jerk. A first-class…Mentally she ripped on him, but it did nothing to assuage the conflicting feelings now going through her.
She’d always avoided being this close to Harry Sanders. The man was a walking pheromone, a womanizer. And she wasn’t as immune to him as she’d always thought she was. Sitting next to him she could smell his cologne. He smelled of wilderness, of something wild and primal. His short blond hair looked silken, eminently touchable. She could picture running her hands into the golden strands, and grabbing hunks of his beautiful hair as he thrust into her. She’d pull his lips back down to hers and…
Stop right there! That was not a picture or a fantasy she needed. The last thing she needed was to have any type of sexual harassment charges drummed up on her, or for her to send any sort of subliminal sexual messages to Harry.
The man was one hundred percent pure playboy. He ran through women like water.
The last thing she needed was to lose her focus. Harry Sanders was, for better or worse, her mentor. This was business. That was all. Her career could be made or broken on this trip. She couldn’t screw it up with thoughts she didn’t need to be having about Harry Sanders.
HARRY WATCHED Saint Louis fade into the ground below. They’d gone westward, and then circled back, heading east over the northern end of the city on their way to New York. From his seat by the window he was able to look southward and see the Gateway Arch as the plane cut through the scattered remnants of high cirrus clouds. It was a beautiful day for flying.
So focused on his thoughts, he barely heard the captain’s announcement that they’d reached their cruising altitude of thirty-something thousand feet. Had it been thirty-two or thirty-four? Maybe it had been thirty-six. The ground could be seen intermittently. He thought about asking the flight attendant for a moment, but then dismissed that idea. There was no point.
He knew the damage to his psyche and concentration was already complete. The irritating Megan MacGregor had wormed her way under his skin.
He couldn’t believe it when she’d almost missed the plane, and worse, he had actually found himself worried about her! What was wrong with him? He’d been glad to see her! Her missing the plane would have been a godsend; she would have proven once and for all how irresponsible she truly was, and how she wasn’t what she seemed. But she’d made it just in time.
And she’d taken his advice. She’d bought new clothes. The saleslady who’d helped her ought to be shot. Megan had gone from a prim, proper and frumpy man-eater to a sexy, irresistible siren in a blue suit. And underneath her silk deep-V shirt she’d worn cream-colored lace.
No man needed to see that, and Harry had been only inches from being able to bury his face right into the ripe breasts that the lace did nothing to conceal.
Thank goodness she hadn’t gotten Lyle McKaskill for her mentor. The man was married, but that wouldn’t have stopped Megan. Harry winced slightly. No guy stood a chance, not even him.
Maybe Megan was the type that a man needed to sleep with once. Not that Harry planned on sleeping with her, of course, but he comforted himself on knowing what she’d be like—a quick fling. Then afterward he would discover that she wasn’t worth it—that the fire was in the chase, not the capture.
But it was tempting. He’d told Grandpa Joe that Megan was a sexual harassment case waiting to happen. He had to make sure it wasn’t with him.
“Are you going to explain your comment from earlier?”
Her voice cut through the haze of his thoughts and he turned to face her. She sat a scant eighteen or so inches from him. To kiss her, all he’d have to do was lean over. “What comment?”
She sighed, her full red lips puckering with mild distaste. “Never mind. Perhaps we should discuss the upcoming meetings. Why don’t you give me your thoughts on what we’re up against.”
“I could,” Harry said, and then he drew himself up. “Why not?”
After all, they did have two hours to kill. He proceeded to fill her in. She listened attentively, her expression never changing as he outlined the new Jacobsen Enterprises strategy.
“Who came up with that?” she asked.
“Jill Benedict and Alan Dalen. If you want to discuss the presentation with them, they’re right behind us, three rows back, right before the partition. Their mentors are seated across from them. Aisle five.”
“No. I don’t need to talk to them.” The shake of Megan’s head sent her brown hair into her face. She pushed the loose strands behind her ears. Along with her new clothes, she’d gotten her hair cut. Harry resisted the urge to tuck a wayward strand back behind her right ear. Her face scrunched into cute ridges across her forehead, indicating she was deep in thought.
“You don’t like the idea,” Harry observed.
Megan gestured. “No, I don’t. It’s still limited. It’s missing something.”
“Jill researched everything you discussed at the meeting. You remember the meeting.”
Megan sidestepped that question as if that meeting was now irrelevant. “I should have done the research on this myself. I hate delegating. Something’s always missing whenever I do.”
“Nothing’s missing. It’s a great plan. Betty is going to do the presentations. We’ll be meeting in the conference room of Smith and Bethesda, the legal firm that Evie’s hired to act as intermediaries for the sale. It’s as close to neutral ground as we can get. Evie’s legal team, and some representatives from Evie’s, will be there.”
“The presentation is still wrong. It’s missing something,” Megan repeated. Her face still showed her concentration. She took a sip of juice.
“You said it was missing something in the meeting too,” Harry reminded her. “We’ve fixed that.”
“No, we haven’t. We’ve simply found out why the restaurants were losing money, and that the problems that they’re having are easily correctable. We can keep the establishments open, which eliminates one of Evie’s complaints against our bid. But we didn’t address Evie’s main concern. What is it that makes our presentation better? Why are we a better company than Odyssey Holdings? Why should they sell to us instead of merge with Odyssey?”
Harry looked at Megan. Her face had become more animated, and he found his gaze drawn to her full lips as she spoke. Those lips were eminently kissable. “What makes Jacobsen better, Harry?”
“Grandpa Joe.” The words were the first thing to his mind and they shot off his tongue before he even thought to think about and perhaps stop them.
“Exactly!” Megan looked triumphant. “That’s it! Grandpa Joe, well, to me, Joe Jacobsen. He’s what we need to sell to Evie’s. Grandpa Joe cares. That’s what makes us better than Odyssey Holdings, why Evie’s should take our bid over Odyssey’s. Jacobsen Enterprises is a family company. Sure, it’s a public company with publicly traded stock, but the family holds the majority of the stock. You’ve got a trust fund full of it, don’t you?”
“That’s irrelevant.”
“Harry…” Her tone protested his vague answer. “This is important.”
He exhaled. He’d been raised not to talk about how much money he had. “Only thirty percent of the stock is owned by nonfamily members.”
“Evie’s is a private company, based on a man’s love for his wife. What we need to sell, Harry, is your family. Your family firm will take care of Evie’s. It won’t be lost somewhere in the corporate shuffle of some large, anonymous holding company. Jacobsen will take care of Evie’s, just like it was a Grandpa Joe’s Good Eats.”
Harry thought about that for a moment. She had a point. An excellent point, in fact. “I’ll have Betty work it into the presentation.”
“No.” Again Megan’s firm tone stopped him. “She’s not going to make the presentation. You are.”
“What? That’s not my role on the team. While it’s under my leadership, Betty is a better presenter.”
“It doesn’t matter. You are going to present the proposal, Harry. Look at the image you’ll bring to the floor. Grandpa Joe cares about this acquisition so much that he sent his grandson, a stockholder, to personally oversee it. You need to make the presentation, and run the negotiations. You’re not the new car manager but the salesman on the floor. I’ll help.”
Harry wasn’t sure he liked this idea. His sister Darci had always been the negotiator. Even Kyle, Alan’s mentor, was a much better negotiator than Harry was. Harry always handled the public relations end of things, the spit-polish so to speak. He calmed nerves, smoothed over ruffled feelings, made transitions flawless. As Megan had just put it, he was the new car manager. He cemented the deals but was never in the forefront.
“And how will you help?” he asked.
“I’m going to write your presentation.” Megan reached into her purse and pulled out a Palm Pilot. Within a moment she’d set up a little keyboard attachment to the unit and had the whole thing sitting on her fold-out tray. “It shouldn’t be too hard. It’s not like we have to redo any of our visual aids or acquisition folders.”
“Breakfast,” the attendant interrupted. She handed over a plate of what looked like bagels, bacon, and scrambled eggs.
“No, thanks,” Megan said. “I ate already. But I’ll take more orange juice when you have a moment.”
“Certainly,” the attendant said as she moved down the aisle.
Harry munched on a piece of bacon. Not too bad. Like Megan, he’d eaten earlier as well, but some snack food never hurt. They’d be starting the negotiation meeting at one, right after lunch. He spread some cream cheese and strawberry jam on the bagel, took a bite, and watched as Megan’s fingers flew over the small keyboard. She’d just amazed him.
Maybe there was a little substance to her after all.
It wasn’t as if he couldn’t do the presentation, he just never had been the front man before. But with Megan writing the proposal, suddenly he felt confident. They could make a good team.
Strictly business, of course.
But she challenged him. She rubbed him raw. His grandfather’s favorite phrase—as iron sharpens iron—came into his head.
He finished off the bagel and listened to her outline her proposal. And then he grilled her within an inch of her life over it. She managed to hit each one of his concerns, diffuse them. “It’s good,” he finally said.
She smiled, and suddenly Harry needed to clench his right armrest. How easy it would have been to simply shift to his left, put his left hand on the back of her neck, bring her face to his and kiss her.
She’s a siren. A siren who’s engaged to a man twenty years her senior. That thought threw a bucket of cold water over him. Twenty years her senior. There was no way her engagement could be true love. Distaste filled Harry’s mouth. But at least he and Megan had proven that they could work together. They could be a team. But that was probably all. He doubted they could even be friends.
“You know,” Megan said, “I used to think you didn’t know very much about business, but in reality you really do.”
“I have an MBA that I did work for,” Harry snapped. “I did graduate magna cum laude from Vanderbilt.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Don’t be so touchy. You’re the grandson, though. Everyone knows you’ll always have a job.”
Maybe a job, and a trust fund, but Harry knew that because he was family the need to prove himself was even greater. Grandpa Joe was an eccentric where his family was concerned. He’d wanted both Harry and his sister Darci to be indoctrinated into the company by serving two weeks in every “aspect” of the company. Harry had drawn the line at being a cook at Grandpa Joe’s Good Eats. Darci, however, had survived her waitressing gig. Megan didn’t know about Grandpa Joe’s crazy indoctrination schemes into the family business, or that Grandpa Joe favored his granddaughters. Even Harry’s cousin, Nick Jacobsen, who at twenty-seven headed the East Coast Jacobsen restaurant-supply business out of the Chicago office, only seemed to please Grandpa Joe about half of the time.
“Here’s your juice.” The flight attendant was back, pouring each of them refills from a clear plastic carafe.
Time to take a break. “I think we’ve covered enough business,” Harry said to Megan as he passed the attendant his plate. He hadn’t eaten the eggs. “We’ve got about another hour before we land. Why don’t you read your book.” He pulled the airline company magazine out of the seat pocket and opened it.
“Sure,” Megan said. She folded up her keyboard and put her Palm Pilot away. Disappointment etched her features but Harry didn’t notice.
For once Megan was glad that Harry’s nose was buried deep in the magazine. She didn’t need him reading her current thoughts. Her opinion of him had definitely gone up.
Well, not much, but definitely a change for the better. She’d always viewed Harry as an alpha male, but never as a skilled alpha male businessman. While Harry certainly looked the part of a businessman, in her opinion he had never before acted the part. In her presence he’d always been cutting, perhaps even bordering on cruel. His actions and business lore had never inspired her to greatness, nor had any of his ideas. His ideas, at best, had been lame and textbook.

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